Rescue Ink

Carlisle Cullen is a pillar of the community. He's a humane veterinarian/philanthropist who owns an animal hospital and shelter. He's a loving husband, a devout father, and his three sons follow in his footsteps as well as on his Harley. They're tattooed bad boys who right the wrong to protect and save. They have hearts that fall in love with the blink of an eye. Well, except for the middle one, Edward.

Disclaimer: I own nothing Twilight.

I am still blessed with my beta, Fran, as we begin a new adventure. Hopefully, I will have my quad squad too. I have two so far.

Chapter One: The Take Down


Riding my bike through the gusty wind, I maneuver easily from one lane to the other. It's a brisk night as the full moon bathes a path of light across the Crescent City Bridge to the Westbank. I have my jacket collar up, gloves on and I keep my head low.

I look over at my dad next to me always in sync with my every movement. He nods his head and we continue on.

Shadowing the both of us, Jasper and Emmett follow behind; a solid square of Harleys.

Within fifteen minutes, we arrive at our destination and cut our engines.

"Garrett and the guys are spread throughout the crowd, so keep your eyes up and open. We don't need any chance for error." Dad looks at Jazz. "And Jasper, when I signal to you, you lay one upward."

Jasper nods. "Yes, sir."

"Emmett?" Dad questions.

"Yeah, Dad?"

He shakes his head. "Just be you, son."

He smirks dimples deep, tilts his head to the side and whispers, "Oh, you don't have to worry about that."

Dad chuckles then glances at me. "Just don't hit anyone unless it's necessary, Edward."

We each take off in different directions for the mosh pit of bulls.

The deeper I head into the Bayou, the louder the crowd roars and the quieter nature becomes.

People stand around or sit in sports chairs drinking beer or a Hurricane.* The women flaunt their fur coats, stiletto Louboutins and dripping Tiffany bobbles. Their smug nose jobs, fake boobs and Botox injections tighten their faces to where they can barely lift their lips to smile with bugged eyes. Their partners are either a boy-toy barely legal to a fat-cat, potbellied, balding wad of dough.

I slide through the crowd eyeing the situation. There are piles of sandbags that form a square fighting ring. On one side, a large male pit bull stands at attention with the owner or trainer in full protective gloves. They face another pit bull and handler waiting for the beginning of the match. It's a smaller dog that's leaner and younger. I can imagine the quickness and experience of the older dog ripping this pup to shreds.

I laugh to myself and mumble, "Fat chance that's going to happen."

To the side, there are cages stacked in the corner with panting dogs whining from the cold.

I glance to my right and see Dad signal Jasper. Jazz pulls his Glock upward and fires.

The crowd freezes and stares. The silence deafens.

Dad walks closer to the sandbags and announces, pacing back and forth, "I apologize for the interruption, ladies and gentlemen." He clears his throat and scans the masses. "But we can't allow any matches, tonight … or any night."

The uprising begins and Dad still stands his ground. Garrett and five of our guys with protective gear grab the dogs' leashes and cages and begin to take them away to our hospital van. One of the handlers doesn't resist, but the other pulls out a gun and orders, "If you leave now, I won't harm any of you."

Some of the crowd becomes rowdy, shouting obscenities and pushing one another.

Our men aim their guns and cock their barrels in domino timing ...

One …

after …

the …

other …

surrounding the crowd.

Dad calmly instructs, "Look, Ricky." The handler looks surprised. "Yeah, I know who you are. If you just put down your gun, we won't harm you."

The handler slowly places his gun on the ground and surrenders with his hands up as he stands.

Emmett comes around the corner, picks up the firearm and boldly laughs. "It's good for you I'm the one retrieving your piece." He gestures towards me. "You don't want to rile up my little brother."

I smirk as I stand with my nunchucks in my hands.

Dad continues with the death stare, "Now, you want to beat up one another, be my guest, go right ahead and make more money, but heed my warning. If I have to come back here because of cruelty to any animal, I will drag your ass off and treat you with the same care. And believe me; you don't want to get Edward angry."

Dad pulls on his collar, starts to walk away and stops. "Don't try anything funny … You are surrounded. My boys don't fucking miss."

He walks out from the crowd with the rest following behind.

A gun cocks and Jasper turns in lightning speed and fires at the perp's feet. "Now, that was a warning shot. I will go higher." He points his gun at the guy's crotch.

As we walk away, we leave them all in utter silence.


We arrange to meet up at Saints and Sinners on Bourbon. I'm hungry, thirsty and need to wind down.

Dad and Emmett remain outside waiting for the others while Jazz and I enter the bar. Jazz rubs his hands together smiling. "I'm gonna eat me some shrimp and grits and a piece of that red velvet cake with a huge glass of Abita beer."

"Whatever floats your boat, brother!" I approach a waitress to get the back room since there are twenty-five of us. It's a relatively quiet Wednesday night and the room is available.

Dad and the rest of the guys walk back and take their seats. They are all abuzz with the victory. Everyone has a beer in hand; Dad stands and raises his glass. "No dog went down tonight."

Someone shouts out, "And Edward didn't beat anyone."

All laugh.

"Hey, there was no need," my arrogance shows in my words. "If I have to play the badass, so be it."

Emmett roars, "He's still cocky and he didn't do a fucking thing."

I shrug. "Sometimes I don't have to."

Dad smiles and rubs my shoulder. "You did great. You all did. Best takedown in a long time. We got the dogs and no one got hurt."

Jazz giggles, "Well, I could have shot me off a cock."

More laughter.

"You didn't need to Jazz, he pissed himself," Emmett points out.

Dad shakes his head. "Well, your mama said she was really proud, so eat up and get moving. I want to get home to my lady."

Emmett hoots, "Yeah. I want to go home to my Rose and give her some loving from my fine self."

I huff, "And you call me arrogant."

Emmett points. "I didn't call you arrogant. You're cocky."

Jazz chuckles, "A big dick."

I laugh. "You've been looking at my dick, again?"

Everyone roars.

Jasper throws up his arms. "Hey, I'm always on your side."

"Just don't be looking at my front side," I tease.

Jasper gets all red in the face; I grab him in a headlock and kiss the top of his head. "Love you, Jazz."

He relaxes as I let him go and he pops me one. "Don't fucking kid around about that."

I raise my hands to surrender.

"Looks like baby brother has a hot head like Edward," Emmett booms.

Jasper shrugs and gives Emmett a death stare. "And don't you forget that, Em."

"Hey, I'm the cute, funny one. You're the gunslinger and Edward's the stick basher," he playfully chuckles.

"Nunchucks," I yell at him.

"Don't get your panties in a knot, Ninja Bro, I know." He smiles.

Dad shakes his head. "Let's order and eat."

We settle down to our meals. I watch my little brother eat two huge helpings of barbecued shrimp and grits, as I woof down Miss Lulu's Classic Jambalaya. Emmett has a passion for the appetizers and eats all six on the menu while not sharing a bite. Dad sits at the other side of the table, but I can bet he's got a huge bowl of rice and beans.

We finish with dessert and head out our separate ways. Jazz and I go to the animal hospital to check on the dogs, while Dad heads home to Mom and Emmett to Rosalie. She's scarier than a pit bull.

Jazz and I ride towards the hospital's rear entrance and see two burly guys at the door. We pass by quickly, ride to the front and carefully make our way to the back. I trigger the automatic lights and blind them in their spot.

Jasper stands to one side with both hands on his Glock, feet wide apart and arms extended ready to fire.

I slowly approach them, swinging my nunchucks from shoulder to shoulder. "Now, what do we have here? It's almost three a. m. and you don't have any animals to bring in, so I can only surmise that you are trying to break in and help yourselves to one of ours?"

The taller one smugly spits, "Cullen, you took our dogs."

"You want to take this up with the police, Ricky?" He says nothing. "I didn't think so." I sigh. "And I thought it was going to be an easy takedown."

"You and your group …"

I interrupt, "Gang. We are a biker gang."

"You and your gang are a pain in my ass," Ricky complains.

I smart mouth, "I was thinking the same thing about you and your dog abusers."

Ricky pulls out his gun and Jazz cocks his. "Oh, I wouldn't do that, Ricky. I was itching to blow away someone's dick tonight."

"I want my dogs," he threatens.

I shake my head and frown. "That's not going to happen. You either leave or we help you leave."

"I want my dogs, Cullen," he roars and lifts his gun.

Well, that was enough for Jazz and he shoots Ricky's weapon out of his hand. The other guy runs.

I pick up the gun while Ricky rolls around on the ground, screaming he's going to kill us.

"You can't find good hired help these days."

Jasper's on his cell to the police and within minutes, they take a very unhappy Ricky away.

We finally walk into the all-night clinic area. Jessica and Angela are at the receiving desk all smiles.

Angela asks, "I already checked out the dogs."

Jasper asks, "How bad?"

"All seventeen are malnourished. Yes, we fed them and started them on vitamins. Two, we couldn't handle. They were very high-strung in behavior, so we left a bowl in their cage. And there one that's very pregnant. We have her separated from the rest," Angela reports.

"Where's Lauren?" I ask.

Angela answers with her face down, "She went home."

Jasper sighs. "What was her excuse this time?"

"As soon as the dogs were brought in she developed a headache," Jessica adds.

I say, "Well, three strikes she's out. I'm sick of her coming in late and going home early, Angela."

"I'll find a replacement," Angela answers.

"Thank you." I look at Jazz. "Let's do it."

I put my arm around his shoulder and we walk to the holding area. God knows what we will indeed find.



White Rum 2 oz.

Dark Rum 2 oz.

Lime juice 1 oz

Orange juice 1 oz

Passion Fruit juice 2 oz

Simple syrup .5 oz

Grenadine .5 oz

For garnish 1 orange wheel and a cherry

Glass: Hurricane


Add all the ingredients to a shaker and fill with ice.

Shake, and strain into a large Hurricane glass filled with fresh ice.

Garnish with an orange half-wheel and a cherry.


And go check out Fran's FF page for our friend, Meli. 'Words of Love for Meli' id: 7714837

Multiple stories in honor of this wonderful girl and her plight.

Many of the authors are on my list below.

Time for recs: Authors with one of their stories.

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