5,561AN: The first chapter was replaced with the NEW one, but no alerts could be sent out. Make sure you read that before you start this chapter. Thank you and enjoy.
Punch Me, Love Me, Save Me
Chapter Two—The Target
Emmett and Jasper were sitting in an unmarked white van outside of the Cullen residence on the outskirts of Seattle. Jasper couldn't help but smile; he knew that sweet woman at the hospital would call his boss. She loved her brother, despite everything he had done, everyone he had hurt.
It was time for a change, and Bellawas the only answer.
It angered him to think of how close it could've been. Alice Cullen had lost a considerable amount of blood in her attempt to save her brother, and if her father and uncle hadn't arrived in time, she would've died. That was going to be one hell of a wakeup call for the rich boy Edward Cullen.
Jasper's cell phone vibrated, causing the corners of his lips to twitch into another smile. He looked over at Emmett, his partner for all their fishing expeditions. His body builder strength helped considerably for what they were about to do.
Jasper answered the phone in the drone drawl he knew his boss would appreciate. Emmett sent him a grin, his hands rubbed together. He liked when he could get a little action, and going after the target was a bit fun. It was, to Jasper, the easiest part of all.
Jasper and Bella exchanged the usually greeting and she went into details of what to expect with the asshole inside the house. Though Jasper was worried about her working mostly alone with the target, he knew she could handle it. If not, the rest of the team would be there to back her up.
During the call, his boss hung up before she answered Jasper's question about Alice. Ten seconds later, he received a text with the Alice's contact information. Score!
Along with the information was the code for the alarm to get inside the house. It would technically made the job easier, but had taken some of the fun away. Emmett loved disarming an alarm.
Jasper turned to Emmett, who was eyeing him suspiciously. Where Emmett was built like a tree trunk, Jasper was lanky, but similar in height at just over six feet each. With a cock of his head toward the house, Emmett grabbed a duffel bag from the back of the van.
It was time.
They put on their disguises – as electricians – and parked in front of the house. With a practiced hand, Jasper picked the lock quickly before any of the neighbors noticed them taking too long at the side entrance.
They entered the home undetected, and as Jasper put in the alarm code on a small panel near the door, Emmett entered behind him. Jasper signaled to remain silent in case the target had awakened already. They moved through the foyer and looked around, and Emmett had to fight back the need to whistle.
The house was one of the swankiest places they'd ever been to, leaving them both questioning Edward's issues. What a drove a man with money and a family that obviously loved him, to destroy himself slowly with alcohol.
Emmett and Jasper shared a look, both wondering if Bella had thought something similar before she saved them from their addictions years earlier. They ascended to the top floor. On the landing, Jasper saw a door ajar, and he presumed it was the target's room. He double-checked the notes in his pockets and nodded toward Emmett, who took the lead. Pulling ski masks over their heads and faces, they walked into the dark bedroom.
As Jasper's eyes tried to adjust to the darkness, he pulled out the moist cloth from his pocket, hoping they wouldn't have to use it in the target's condition. If he still any alcohol in his system, it could prove dangerous to use this method of sedation. It had been more than twenty-four hours, so he hoped for the best.
The room was rather large, and LP's and CD's lined the west wall– Jasper figured over a few hundred. The target was better equipped than most music stores in the area. The heavy dark curtains, hanging over the bank of windows, kept the sunlight out.
Christ, this fucker is loaded, and he still chooses to waste it away and hurt his family.
Exchanging a look at the sound of a groan, Emmett and Jasper quickly circled the king-size wrought iron bed in the center of the room. The gold plush rug muffled their footsteps as they crept up to the sleeping figure tangled in black and gold sheets. The occupant stirred slightly with a slurred word when Emmett cursed aloud after he stepped onto some broken glass.
A tuft of bronze hair appeared suddenly from underneath a large pillow. Wide green eyes went wide. "What the fuck?" His voice garbled.
He seemed disoriented, perhaps still under whatever his father gave him. His father did indicate he was recovering. Before the target could even attempt to say anything further, Emmett literally body slammed him on the bed.
Pillows flew right and left, a few failing limbs accompanied the target's screams of protests. Once he was upright, Jasper stuffed a rag in his mouth. His green eyes bugged out in complete shock, confusion, and fear.
Yeah, bet this wakes you right up, asshole.
"Edward Cullen, you have been targeted," Jasper stated firmly. He drew a dark cloth bag over Edward's head, plunging him into darkness. "Next time you see the light, you will meet your savior." It was dramatic, but with targets like Edward, the shock and fear were a needed wake up call.
Edward continued to struggle furiously against Emmett's constricting arms, but he was no match for his brute strength. Emmett managed to get Edward off the bed easily.
"Damn, he's fucking naked!" Emmett growled as Edward kept kicking. Jasper laughed as Emmett tried to close his eyes, so he wouldn't have to get another eyeful.
"Keep still, friend, or I'll put you to sleep," Jasper said loud enough for his target to hear over his shrill screams. Edward's movements stopped suddenly, his bare chest heaving. "Good." Jasper pulled open a drawer in a nearby dresser, extracting a pair of boxers, socks, and a muscle shirt. He found a pair of jeans and Chucks in the closet.
"Hurry the fuck up, man!" Emmett complained, his arms constricting the target against his chest. "The fucker still has his morning wood."
"At least it's not pointing at you" Jasper snickered. Emmett laughed, and the target growled at them. "I don't think it's for us, either. B has her work cut out for her." Their teasing had the target renewing his attempts of escape. "Edward, sorry, but it looks like we're going to have to put you to sleep after all, since we've got to dress you."
There was no way Jasper would trust Edward to dress himself. He was sure he would attempt to escape them, and as much as the idiot deserved for someone to kick his ass, Jasper knew his boss would not be happy if he were hurt.
Edward's muffled screams died down once Jasper's pressed the white cloth over his nose and mouth. As his eyes rolled back, Jasper groaned at the thought of dressing the fucker. "Here, Emmett," he stated, handing over a pair boxers to him. "You put these on."
"I'm not going to put them on."
"Someone has to do it."
"Just put his jeans on and forget them."
"Does that mean you're willing to zip up the asshole sans underwear?"
Emmett saw Jasper's point but managed to avoid doing the job himself. Who else was going hold the asshole up?
Twenty-four hours later
"He's still sleeping. We had to put him under three times on the way up here. Sorry."
The same fucking southern accent Edward had been hearing for the past day was talking to someone new, by the sound of it. He knew that he was still in the dark bag, and he wanted to keep as still as he could. He wanted to hear what the fuck was going on and hoped it helped determine where he was. It was obviously a kidnapping and he was sure that the assholes would soon be asking for ransom.
His parents would get him out of this one.
They always bailed him out of trouble. This shouldn't be any different. Then his father would have everyone involved in his kidnappers arrested. With the help of his father's lawyer friend, Edward would slap a civil suit on their asses afterward.
"God damn it, J. Fuck. Do you have any idea how sick he's going to be once he wakes up?"
That was a female voice, but her words seemed to have a measure of control Edward hadn't expected. His immediate thought was that she was the brains of this whole fucking operation since her men sure were in short supply of them.
How the fuck does this kind of shit happen to me? Don't they know who I am?
"You've got to be kidding me," the woman said in a hiss. "He pissed himself."
What the fuck did she expect since the fucking assholes wouldn't let him take a damn leak after the first time? Edward wanted to shout and growl at the idiots. They'd pay for the humiliation.
"Well, we tried to get him to take a leak once on the way here, but he tried to piss on us." The other Neanderthal said.
"So we told him he'd have to lay in his own filth from now on," the other said. The same voice did most of the talking during the long drive. To add insult to his inane topics during the conversations Edward overheard, the asshole had a southern accent and a love of country music.
At first, Edward thought it was a form of torture and had asked for more of whatever sedative they'd given him to knock him out of his misery. They did not take his smart-ass comment well, the return of the gag and the tightness of his binds were a testament to that.
"What the hell else did he do?"
Edward snickered under his breath at the hazy memory of finally taking a leak that one time they allowed him to and he accidently aimed toward his right. He had no idea that he'd actually hit something. The man with the southern drawl had screamed like a fucking little girl.
After that, there didn't seem much to remember, since everything went black. The other stupid motherfucker probably knocked him out. It would explain the throbbing headache Edward had, and combined with whatever drug they used, and probably alcohol; he was suffering a major hangover.
The day before his kidnapping was a blur, only remembering that his uncle Garrett was fucking pissed as fuck at him, and probably his father, too. Edward would make it up to him later. Maybe buy him a motorcycle when his quarterly stipend from his trust fund came in, or maybe a nice Rolex.
Edward's throat and lungs felt fucking raw, as if he'd been breathing toxic air. He had no idea what caused that.
"Did he drink anything?" The female's voice was sweeter and much softer than those who kidnapped him. She sounded as if she was worried about him. Of course she was, the stupid bitch, he thought. He wasn't worth shit if he was dead.
"We managed to get him to drink some water a few times, but he always would start screaming and spitting at us. So we had to cut it short each time."
Edward nearly growled at the man's description. He did not scream. It was more like a fucking roar.
The female sighed, and asked, "Any trouble at the border?"
Edward's ears perked at that tidbit of information. Did she say border? he asked himself, trying to focus. That meant he was no longer in Washington or maybe even the Untied States. Considering how long they'd been on the road, and the fact that it was nearly dark when he awoke the first time, he didn't think he was in Canada.
He listened closely because he didn't remember shit about a border during the drive. It could have happened while he was asleep or under the sedative.
"Nah, Mike was working like you expected, and he got us through without any problems," a much deeper voice answered. "Your target was asleep when we crossed." That explained why Edward had no memory of it.
"Fine, get him in the bathroom and then leave," the female instructed. "Make sure you hose down the back of the van before you go. It fucking stinks."
Seconds after the woman issued the instructions, Edward felt two pairs of arms grasp both of his, hauling him up and dragging him out of the vehicle.
Wherever Edward was, he noticed that it was somewhere bright since some light filtered through the dark bag. The air felt dry and dusty, the latter sticking to his skin. Possibly a desert, he realized. It was then that he knew he was in fucking trouble; the kind that maybe money couldn't help with, and allow Edward to escape with his life and a virgin ass.
He'd like to keep that way, thank you very much.
"I know you're awake, Mr. Cullen," the voice stated from in front of him. It was the woman again. He flinched like a little bitch, he realized a little too late. He couldn't be help it, considering his current situation. How the fuck did she know?
"Your head should be drooping, not held up slightly," she said, answering his unspoken question. They entered a much cooler area; a building, since he no longer felt the heat of the sun baking his skin.
Edward offered no assistance as they carried his heavy ass somewhere. It wasn't as if he'd help make it easier. He refused to dwell on the fact that he was as weak a puppy. The fact the woman knew he was bluffing, galled him. It also provided something that sent a fissure of fear through his mind.
This—kidnapping someone— was routine for her, and he had no clue what that could mean.
"Okay, remove one of the cuffs and attach him to the bar," she instructed someone.
Edward was aware that she was damn close, because he could smell a softly scented perfume. It barely overpowered his stench. Fucking hell, that shit was embarrassing, feeling bile rise in his throat at the smell. How could she stand it? He hadn't eaten anything in a damn day; so thankfully, he didn't get sick at their feet when he gagged.
Then again, that might have just made his fucking day. The bitch would deserve for him to get sick all over her. She huffed and barked out an order for some water as she removed the rag in his mouth from beneath the dark bag. Seconds after, she offered him a drink, lifting the bag from his mouth only. It should have pissed him off to have her feed him, but he was grateful nonetheless. His mouth tasted like ass and his throat felt as if it was on fire, the water was cold and eased his discomfort.
"Throw some over my head and shoulders," he stated. He wanted some relief from some of the stickiness that the heat of the day coated his skin with sweat. It was damn hot to him. Without a word, she complied; at least, he assumed it was the woman. He swore her scent became more potent as the cool water poured over him, which meant she was close.
He could try to overpower her, and considering his six-three height, it shouldn't take much. However, every one of his limbs felt like lead and he didn't think he'd be able to lift them high enough to do much, much less form a fist.
Someone pulled his hands, jerking him forward and forcing him to walk several feet. Twice, they turned once right, another left, until finally they stopped. It was a room where their voices carried and echoed throughout the space. Soon after, someone removed one of the handcuffs around his wrists. Before his lethargic mind could react, he felt it attach to something else. Still blind, he felt around with his free hand.
Tile. Cold, hard tile was under his palm and fingertips.
Instinctively, Edward pulled at the restraint and met resistance, checking to find it attached to some kind of metal bar. Suddenly, he felt someone tugging at the bag over his head. The relief of not having to smell his own bad breath was palpable by the deep breaths he took of the fresh, clean air.
His eyes didn't open at first, because from behind his lids, he could tell the room was bright. He blinked several times before his eyes opened slowly, trying to adjust to the light. He'd been in the darkness for over a day, and it was disorienting.
"Over here, Mr. Cullen," her voice said somewhere to his left. Edward automatically turned to the voice.
"Where the fuck am I?" His voice was raw and hoarse, probably from screaming whenever he could during the entire ordeal. The bile was starting to rise again. It wasn't the time to get sick, he told himself. It wouldn't be good to look like a pussy to his kidnappers.
"Rehab."
He snorted, "I don't think so."
After a minute, Edward was finally able to make out a shape, as he continued to stare at the woman. Her face and body became sharper and clearer as he became accustomed to the light. Laughter filtered through like muffled sounds until he opened his jaw several times, popping the stuffiness in his ears.
"This is not your typical facility, Mr. Cullen."
Edward took in his surroundings. It was a large white restroom, and he was standing in a shower enclosure. "Why?" he asked, completely confused by what she had said.
"Your sister called me," she answered firmly.
That perfume wafted toward him nose, causing the nausea to hit him again. "Fucking hell," he groaned. "I should've eaten something when I drank the other night."
At the time, he hadn't even thought about food. Only about his next round of drinks and getting his dick sucked.
It was then that her words sunk in and he looked back at her in disbelief. She had a smug smile on her heart-shaped face. She was beautiful, in the girl-next-door kind of way, and definitely fuckable. He realized he lost his original train of thought, again.
Edward smirked, hoping to come across as good-looking to her as he was to most of the female population back home. Maybe a little side trip to her bed would not only satisfy his lack-luster sex life as of late, but also get her to let him go. If not, he could overpower the little witch the second she let her guard down.
Something in his face must have clued her into what he was thinking, because she nearly growled at him. She had to be attracted to him. He was a fucking prize, as women often said to him. Then he remembered he smelled like a truck stop men's restroom.
Maybe he could charm her with words instead of his looks. It was certainly worth a try. However, his head throbbed, reminding him that the bitch had him kidnapped and was responsible for the damn pain.
His eyes roamed over her again. She had a sinful as fuck smile on her plump lips. He took the time to eye-fuck the rest of her. She wore a snug, dark green tank top and tiny black shorts that contrasted nicely with her porcelain skin. It was hot wherever they were staying, but he believed that she dressed especially nice for him. After all, he was worth a fortune.
She's definitely fuckable, he thought. With a chest he could stick his cock between, and a tiny waist and long legs that he would lick if given the chance. She was small and probably didn't weigh much. An against the wall fuck wouldn't be a problem for him to handle.
What the fuck is wrong with me? She kidnapped me.
After another tense minute, Edward realized that was she was waiting for him to respond. It took a moment longer to remember what they were discussing. "Why would my sister call you?"
"Well, Edward, she called me from her room at the hospital." She punctuated each word as if he was a child or an idiot.
Did she say hospital?
Suddenly, he started to panic as all his breath left his lungs in a rush of words. "Ali? My baby sister's in the hospital!" He tried to wrap his sluggish mind around the words she was saying, but none of it made any sense.
"Relax, Edward. She's fine. She saved you."
"What the hell happened?" he gasped, looking into her brown eyes.
"She returned from shopping and had found you passed out in the garage." She sighed for a moment. "The garage door was closed, and your car was on. You could've died if your sister, father, and uncle hadn't gotten to you."
Edward could've cared less about himself, but his sister was another story. "That doesn't explain what my sister is doing in the fucking hospital!" he spat angrily. If he could wrap his hands around her shoulders, he'd shake the truth out of her.
She only quirked an eyebrow until he quieted down; the bitch left him hanging. After another few moments, she answered. "Your sister had to break the window of your car and cut her wrist and arm trying to open the door to drag your body out. She lost a lot of blood, but luckily, your father arrived just in time."
"Fuck!" He pounded his free fist into the tile, the clink of his shackled hand rattling against the metal bar. He fucked up again, and this time, he brought his sister down with him.
Not again.
"No more questions until you get cleaned up," she said, cocking an eyebrow before continuing, "Because frankly, you reek."
Edward tugged on his handcuff several times. The metal against metal clanking almost made his ears bleed. "I hardly can remove my clothing and shower when I'm chained up."
"I know," she said with a shrug.
What the fuck was her name? Had she told him? His mind was having serious issues catching up. Whatever was in that white cloth that Texas asshole had used did a damn number on him, and depending on the dose, could have had adverse effects on his body and mind. That combined with alcohol; yeah, not fucking good at all.
The woman climbed over the tub's short edge and she was suddenly behind him. "Don't make any sudden movements. I don't have the key on me right now. It's in another room, so it will do you no good to hurt me right now. And if I scream, my guys will come in and kick your ass."
Edward laughed, wanting to rattle her. "Scared?"
"You should be," she stated in the same authoritative tone she used with her men.
He felt her small hands brush along his arms and then to the hem of the muscle shirt he wore. She pulled it over his left shoulder and head. He tried to hide his smirk, because he realized she couldn't get it off unless she released him. Then he heard the snip of scissors. His head snapped around to see, regretting it instantly, the movement causing him to gag again. As the fabric of his shirt fell away, he tried to get it under control. She slowly bent down to pick it up, her eyes locked on his.
She had dark brown eyes that were easy to read, but it was obvious it was a two-way street inside them, able to read your deepest thoughts. Not many people had that capability, to read others so easily, but she was one of them. He looked away first; unable to hold his gaze any longer.
She threw the tattered remains out onto the floor of the bathroom, a pair of scissors hidden among the pile. "God, you smell. Hot or cold?" she asked.
Edward felt her breath glide down his spine, she was so fucking close, a part of him wanted to lick her, the other wanted to knock her out and run.
"Hot." He nearly grinned when he realized something. She would have to get a lot closer to get to the handles of the shower. He was about to put his free hand on her shoulder when suddenly, his left arm was brought up his back, and his face was pressed against the cold tile.
"Get off me, bitch!" he growled. He tried to pry himself from her grasp, but she pushed his arm up higher, causing a shooting pain in his shoulder. "Fuck!" The little thing was strong enough to dislocate his shoulder and that would be painful as shit. He highly doubted they'd give him some good painkillers there, either.
"I may be small, Edward, but I can handle myself," she hissed in his ear, her hot breath sending a shiver down his spine again. Jesus, he had issues if he seriously had a case of Stockholm syndrome going on with this bitch.
"Now, I'm turning on the water. Can you handle taking your pants off?" He growled but nodded, he'd do anything to stop the pain. "Don't move until I step out of the shower."
Edward obeyed and stayed against the tile until she released his arm, but then he swung back quickly, connecting to her chin. She staggered backward, cursing.
"Fucking asshole!" she screamed before he could turn around. Suddenly, he felt her fist connect with his back in between two ribs. She knew what the fuck she was doing, enough to disable someone and bring them to their knees.
Fuck.
Two more hits to his back and then another to his right calf. That made him fall on his knees, grunting from the pain. Her fingernails scratched through his hair and pulled hard to bring his head back to look up at her. Her lip was bleeding as her tongue licked her wound.
Shit, I hit a woman. What the fuck am I doing?
"You don't seem to understand, Edward," she bit out, inches from his face. Despite her anger, Edward still wanted to taste her. He grinned at the thought, making her growl at him. "I'm here to save you. I'm here to help you. That doesn't mean I have to make it easy for you. Your family called me because I was the last desperate attempt at saving you."
"My family wouldn't do this shit to me," he snarled. His neck was already straining and hurting, his knees painfully ached. It didn't helped matters that'd he'd been bowing to the porcelain throne a few times in the past couple of days.
Her dark eyes narrowed, she was so pissed she was nearly spitting at him. "You put your sister in the hospital. She found you minutes from certain death. You have been to rehab five times in three years, and each time, you fell off the fucking wagon. You have two DUI convictions, three assault charges, and assaulting a police officer, all because you keep drowning your fucking troubles away."
"What the fuck do you know?" Edward glared at her, surprised that he didn't scare her one bit. She looked like some Xena-Buffy wannabe, huffing at him, ready for the fight and kill. She knew things about him, but he didn't know shit about her, not even her name.
"I know that your car had a dent in it, and human blood was found on the hood," she whispered gravely, her eyes widening as his own did the same. He could tell that she hadn't meant to disclose that to him yet.
His head spun at the thought of blood on his car. "No." He shook his head, ignoring his protesting head and stomach. "No, I hadn't hit someone."
"So far, no bodies or injuries have been reported. Yet." She sighed, releasing his hair. "There was a lot of blood, from what your father told me. I have people looking into it."
Edward's breathing was coming in gasps, and all he could see was dark spots in front of his eyes. He might have killed someone. It was too much as the walls soon started to spin around him.
"Breathe, Edward," she whispered. Her voice sounded far off, and then he felt warm water hit him from above. "Get up."
He followed her instructions as if he was on autopilot. Her hands fumbled with the button of his jeans as he stared at the cold tile ahead of him. Numbed by the information she'd given him, he didn't even react to her pulling off his jeans and boxers. He had no clue where his shoes were, but vaguely remember throwing them at one of the dickheads from earlier.
"Edward, I need to explain things. Nod if you understand." He nodded, automatically stepping out of remainder of his clothing and heard them fall on the bathroom floor a second later.
"I am here to help you through the first month of withdrawal. Do you understand?" He nodded, aware of her hands running a bar of soap across his chest, but only barely.
"We're in the middle of desert. There is nothing for almost sixty miles all around us. There are no vehicles accessible here to you. There is no means of escape but on foot. For your safety, I would not try that approach. Yes, you can take water from here, but since it's the middle of the summer and over a hundred plus degrees in the day, and sometimes the temperature drops to thirty degrees at night, I do not recommend it. And we're in Mexico. You have no papers. For someone like you, in this country, it wouldn't be safe. Do you understand so far?"
Edward nodded again, watching as her small hand caressed his shoulders, suds slipping down his body. His eyes drifted, her lips were damn kissable, even with the tiny spot of blood on them. It was good to know that his libido was still intact since she decimated his pride with how fast she brought him down. The fact that it was a woman didn't help matters. If anyone he knew found out, he'd never live that shit down.
"Most containers here are less than half a gallon, and each one has a hole on the bottom so that it leaks, so you're stuck here. We have more than enough food to last us thirty days. Once the first thirty days is up, we do a supply run."
"I'm going to be here longer than thirty days?" he asked, finally finding his voice again.
"Yes. Rehab in the traditional sense has not worked for you in the past. Once your body is cleansed of the toxins and the alcohol that is plaguing your body, I will set to work on the rest of you."
His eyes narrowed, it sounded like she planned to get into his head. No one had ever been successful in doing it. She would be no different. "But you're holding me against my will."
"Yes, but it's for your own good."
Maybe, he thought. He nodded in agreement at her words for the moment, still too numb to argue with her.
"You might find me attractive, considering how you're reacting to my touch," she said, her skin blushing around her cheeks. "But soon, you will hate me."
Her hands and the soap glided across his body. He couldn't help his reaction anymore, but did she have to rub it his face? She was fucking gorgeous, and she was cleaning him up, her hands were on his body. What did she expect? He wasn't a fucking monk.
Edward rested his free hand against the tiled wall, wanting to get closer for reasons he had yet to understand, much less control. She looked up at him since she was a tiny little thing, and he towered over her. Her eyes met his, watching him closely.
"Why would I hate you?"
She shrugged, rolling her eyes. "Because tomorrow, I'll have to tell all of this to you again."
"You won't," he stated, still looking into her too perceptive eyes. There was something else within them. It was something he recognized and had seen in his own reflection, when he could stand to.
"I always do," she said with confidence.
"Can you really help me?" he asked, because he was suddenly desperate. His drinking had led to someone he loved getting hurt; that shit was unacceptable.
"I can. But once you return to the States, I don't know what will happen."
"What do you mean?"
"If there is a body or a hit-and-run, you will have to be turned in to the authorities."
Her words hit him fully for the first time since he laid eyes on her.
"What have I done?" Edward fell to his knees again. The crazy woman followed him, kneeling, too, her body glistening from the beads of water from overhead.
"You've hit rock bottom from the height of thirty thousand feet," she said with her hands cupping his face, her eyes almost tender.
"Is my sister really okay?" he asked, looking into her eyes again, finding tiny flecks of green and gold within them.
"Yes, she was lucky. So were you. If you had been that garage for a few more minutes, you would be dead." Her warm soft hands caressed his stubble-covered jaw.
"I should be dead after causing her pain," he admitted gruffly. "After I may have, oh God, I may have killed someone." He groaned, trying to catch his breath and to move past another wave of nausea.
"Edward, look at me."
It took a moment for him to gather the strength to obey. He opened his eyes and looked into her expressive gaze again.
"Focus on your recovery first. I will keep me posted if there is anything to find."
She was so fucking close. Though he should hate her, he couldn't help but wonder about her. "What's your name?" he asked though he also wanted to know why, too.
"Bella."
He wanted to taste her name on his tongue. "Why are you doing this, Bella?"
Edward was sure she wouldn't answer, but she surprised him.
"I've seen addiction firsthand," she said softly. "My mother hit rock bottom, only she didn't get back up." Her wet hair was dark, and her eyes glazed with tears. If they fell, he couldn't tell. They mingled with the water that trickled down from above them.
Her hands brushed his hair from his face, washing it was gentle fingers. There was a unique push and pull war inside him because of the woman before him. He wanted to run from her because she was everything that scared him. He also wanted to gravitate toward her for the same reason.
With his mind in such chaos, there would be no victor – for now.
"Do I have a choice?"
"No."
AN: Betaed by kyla713. Updating every Tuesday and once I'm done writing, more often. I'll be posting pictures and quotes as teasers via Pinterest under my pen name if you're interested.