4,622DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc., are the intellectual property of the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer. No copyright infringement is intended.
-Chapter Fifty-Five-
Edward wasn't satisfied with a little bite here or a tender kiss there. Instead, he was making up for our lost time, set and determined to put his mouth and hands on every inch of my skin, and nothing was off-limits to him.
Edward had no limits.
He didn't follow the law.
He made up his own rules and guidelines.
My wants and happiness were his only priority.
Except for right now, he was declaring selfishness.
I tried to remind him of the ticking clock, but he wouldn't hear it.
"Two more minutes," he said, moving from my neck and down to my breasts.
I lifted my head and watched him kissing and sucking, creating deeper purple clusters along my flushed skin. Finally, he gazed up at me, eyes locking with mine, and took my right nipple into his mouth, biting and flicking it with his tongue. My head dropped back, and I let out a soft gasp.
Whatever fight I had left in me was gone.
All I could do was lie there and try to control my breathing. It wasn't easy. Ragged and shallow, my body tensed and surrendered to Edward's touch. He put a firm hand on my stomach, keeping me in place as he rocked his hips into me.
Oh, fuck, he was hard again.
Is he trying to kill me?
"Baby…" I ran my hands over his head, the prickly, short hair scratching into my palms. Then, sensing my protest, he shifted in the bed and silenced me with a deep, rough, and persuasive kiss. It took a lot of will for me to pull away from him. "Edward," I panted, "we can't..."
"Why can't we?" He had my bottom lip between his teeth. Another ploy, just a classic form of distraction. A clever tool to steer my focus away from his wandering hand, edging lower and lower down my body, his fingers ghosting over my legs.
My breathing was uncontrolled, becoming more and more labored, intolerable even. "Because…" I closed my eyes and tried to think of a reason, "…we're wanted and there are cops out there..."
"Fuck the cops!" he growled, shoving my thighs apart and plunging two of his fingers inside me.
He muffled my moan with his mouth, firm lips, and forceful tongue. He pushed his fingers into me as deep as he could, touching every ridge and corner, and curled them upwards. He slid them in and out, in and out, fast and hard. I grasped his shoulders and rode his hand, rubbing my aching clit against his palm, needing that extra friction.
And when he buried his face in my neck, whispering, low and gruff, how much he fucking loved me and how he needed to make me come.
"I want to see it."
I was lost to him, overcome with a rush of sensations. A strong pulsation in my clit and pussy, muscles clenched, and toes curled. My thighs were shaking, clamping shut on Edward's arm and keeping him there, but it only made him kiss me deeper, finger-fuck me harder, and igniting another quivering wave. My breathing ceased. I arched my back off the bed and clung to him as it exploded all around me.
I released my death grip on his shoulders and fell back into the mattress.
"So fucking beautiful," Edward said, kissing my neck and gently stroking away the tingles.
His love and adoration always had a way of turning me into an emotional basket-case, adding in a mind-blowing orgasm, and I was nothing but a trembling, incoherent mess. The prickly annoyance was reaching the corner of my eyes, and it was only a matter of seconds before it flooded out of me. I flipped over to my side and buried my face into Edward's chest, forcing the tears to stay behind my tightly closed lids.
It was my voice that betrayed me. "I love you."
"Love you, too, baby." He held me tight, crushing our bodies together, entangling his legs with mine.
I listened to his heartbeat, strong and thundering.
He was perfect.
It was an unusual moment, a period of calm, and neither of us bothered to move, afraid the littlest thing would disrupt it.
It was fate, of course, who had other ideas.
A shrill ringing and dull buzzing of a phone, barely audible and muffled by layers of cloth, brought reality to the forefront. My eyes went wide, and my blood ran cold. It was the warning call—the one we dreaded getting. We had a decent twenty minutes away from a life that promised incarceration, but now that shit was over.
"Fuck," Edward said, and we both sprang out of bed like the sheets were on fire. He fumbled with the crumpled jumpsuits, dug through the pockets, and pulled out his phone. It was new, a touch screen, and Edward jabbed at it with his finger before getting it to work. He pressed it to his ear and went to the window, parting the curtains slightly and taking a furtive glance out. "Yeah?"
I was on my knees, tearing through the duffel bag and putting on random clothes. Nothing matched. My bra and panties were a lost cause, and I was wearing one of Edward's t-shirts. It didn't fucking matter, not in the least. I had mere seconds to be dressed and ready, plain and simple.
"Jasper?" Edward said, letting out a heavy sigh. "Jesus, I told you not to call me on this phone."
It wasn't Emmett. There were sirens. No cops. We weren't surrounded. We were safe. I let myself fall back on my hands as my heart slowly got back into a steady rhythm. A laugh, one of relief, escaped my lips, and I shook my head.
Will we ever learn to stop pushing our luck?
"I don't—I told you….Well, are you fucking bleeding out of your chest?" Edward asked, sitting down in the chair. "Then why are you fucking calling me?" I handed him his boxers and a pair of jeans. He put them on and rolled his eyes as he listened to Jasper ramble on and on. "Wait, what? Say that again...Are you checking up on me? What are you, my fucking wife?"
My fingers stilled on my shoelaces. The mere mention of the word wife on Edward's lips struck a feeling in me, an intense craving. It was something that I wanted more than anything, but I would never admit that shit out loud. There was a time, pretend or not, when I was his wife. I had a ring to prove it, but the fucking assholes in Chicago took it away. They said it was evidence. I would much rather it went back to the owner, that sweet, old, and fucking crazy lady in Iowa.
She was alive and talkative.
Edward's quick intervention got her to the hospital in time. I watched her on the news a few days ago. After everything we put her through, robbing her store and pistol-whipping her, she still told people what an attractive couple we were, how it was unfair that the police were targeting us, and how we should be left alone.
"They're just two kids in love."
Edward must have hit her head fucking hard.
"We're fine, Jazz," he said, bent over with his elbows on his knees and rubbing the creases out of his forehead. "Why don't you worry about yourself and how you're going to get across the border, alright?" He nodded, taking in whatever wise advice was said and dismissing it. "Yeah, I got it. You better not fucking call me on this line again." He pressed a button, but when nothing happened, he opted to slam it face down on the table. "What a fucking hassle," he said, slouching down in the chair and leaning his head against the wall. He was trying to run his hands through hair that was no longer there.
I snorted. "I bet now you're regretting shaving it now, huh?"
"Yeah," he said with a weak smile. "I didn't handle my time well."
Rising to my knees, I shuffled across the room towards him and wedged my body between his legs. I peered up at him. "Is it later?"
"I don't know what to tell you, baby," he groaned, bending forward and gazing down at my hands resting on his knees. My bruised and swollen knuckles were in his direct line of sight, and I tried to snatch them away, but it was too late. "What the fuck happened to you?"
"It's nothing," I said, getting up from my squat.
"Bullshit," he said, grabbing my waist and yanking me down into his lap, inspecting my battle wounds more thoroughly. "Jesus, baby," he murmured, kissing each knuckle. Then, he looked back up, his eyes brimming with pride. "Who did you clock?"
I smiled, suddenly bashful under his doting gaze, as blood rose to the surface of my skin, heating my face and neck. "It was some bitch in holding that was going off at the mouth." Those memories were dark. Life without him was dark. "I didn't handle my time very well, either."
Edward nodded, draping his arms over me and resting his forehead on my shoulder. "I fucking lost it."
Those days spent apart were far worse for him. He told me that coming off the coke the first night made him edgy and paranoid. The feds were taunting him about me to get him to crack and confess to the crimes. It was the same tactic what's-his-name used on me, except they were dirty comments laced with sexual innuendos, and Edward, being his possessive and hot-tempered self when it came to me, exploded a mass of violence upon each one of those guards' faces.
"I just wanted them to shut the fuck up." He had my shirt twisted and bunched in his fists.
The butchering of his hair occurred two days before they transferred us to Phoenix. The guards removed the restraints, and all seemed calm. A guard took him down to the showers to get washed up and changed into orange jumpsuits. Everything he had on his back was to be collected and stored as evidence. On the way out, Edward caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, sparking recognition of his father, and asked the guard to buzz it for him. The guard refused, and Edward attacked, nearly killing the man. He managed to shave it all off before anyone could reach him.
By the end of his stay there, he'd put four federal officers in the hospital with minor injuries, and one was in a coma. The charges against him were multiplied and stacked. There was no hope for him to gain leniency from the courts with his violent behaviors. He was labeled unpredictable and dangerous. It was unsafe to release him to the outside world. Life in federal prison was his future.
"I would have been more than happy going to jail for the both of us. I even proposed death, if that is what they wanted, and all I asked in return was for those assholes in suits to grant you full clemency. I signed confession," he said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Everything was set."
I couldn't breathe, shocked and horrified by his admission. I pushed away from him. "You fucking—why did you do that?"
"Because," he grasped my wrists, tightly keeping me restrained in his lap, "I was trying to give you back your fucking life! I couldn't just sit there and let you rot in jail." He shook his head and squeezed me. "No, fuck that! I would rather die than fucking let that happen."
"I never asked you to sacrifice yourself for me!" I twisted my arms and pulled them back, trying vainly to free myself from his stronghold.
"You don't have to ask," he said, tightening his grip and jerking me close. "Jesus, why are you mad at me? It's not like any of this shit fucking matters now."
"I'm not mad at you," I said, keeping my outward voice calm, but on the inside, I was screaming at the top of my lungs at him.
He scoffed. "You're lying."
"No, I'm not."
"I just watched you fucking come all over my fingers." I bit my lip and smothered a groan. The cocky asshole smirked and pulled my frustration away from my teeth. "You don't think I know every curve and facet of your face?"
"Okay, fine, Edward, you're right—but I'm not just mad, I am fucking furious with you."
He shrugged, avoiding my intense and heated gaze. "I did what I had to do."
"Yeah, and it was fucking stupid."
He snapped his head back and glared. "How is keeping your ass out of jail stupid?"
"You were supposed to keep your God damn mouth shut, remember? That was what we agreed on—and what do you go and fucking do? You trade in your life for mine and offer up a confession?"
"It was a lapse in judgment. I thought those fuckers would keep their word."
I laughed, but it wasn't funny. It was unbelievable. "Yeah, well, guess what, Edward, they didn't, all right? They took your confession and used it against me. You helped them build their whole fucking case."
"Yeah, I know," he said with a pained face, his eyebrows bunching and gathering. "When I found out they were going to lock you up and throw away the key…." His eyes, severe and passionate, captured mine. "I had to do something to get you."
Edward would die for my freedom, no questions asked, and I would've done the same for him. It was hard to understand my hypocritical anger, but the thought of him gone from this earth scared the shit out of me. I couldn't live five fucking days without him, but even in those darkest hours, I knew he was out there breathing, somewhere safe and alive. That hope kept me reasonably sane and functioning. Then he tells me that he was planning to take that all away. He was going to commit fucking suicide.
God, I hated him so much for that, but despite rational thinking, it made me love him all the more.
"Ugh," I said, slumping into his chest and breathing him in deeply. "You're so stupid!"
"Yeah," he laughed, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug. He rocked us back and forth. "And you're beautiful."
"Marcus called," Emmett said as Edward and I descended the stairs, our hour of alone time was officially over, and it was back to business.
"Oh, yeah?" Edward replied, only half-interested, throwing the duffel bag into the trunk.
He was again looking like his old self with his leather jacket and black jeans. The sweater hoodie was pulled over his head, highlighting his strong jaw and facial piercings. It was almost like last week didn't happen.
"He's going to be at a private airport ten miles from here in about thirty minutes," Emmett said.
My relaxed posture stiffened. "We're flying?"
"Yeah, how else did you think we were going to get across the border?" He tilted his head to the side, reading my panicked expression. "Wait…Are you afraid to fly?"
"No, not really, per say," I said, a nervous lump rising in my throat. "I just saw the movie Alive once and it..."
Edward narrowed his eyes, confused. "Alive?"
"You know," I said, gesturing with my hands and emulating a plane, "that one movie where they crash into the Argentina Mountains and eat each other."
Emmett nodded and leaned against the hood of the car. "Sounds like a righteous porn."
"It's not porn, okay?" I rolled my eyes. "Ethan Hawke was in it."
Emmett blinked. "Who?"
"Ethan Hawke?" I said, and he continued to stare at me like I was speaking Chinese with a slight shake of the head. "He played in Reality Bites, Gattaca, Daybreakers…." Still nothing. I sighed, "Training Day?"
Recognition, finally, his eyes lit up, and he snapped his fingers. "He's that skinny dude who was patrolin' with Denzel, right?" I nodded. "Man, that movie was badass."
Edward was rubbing his mouth, trying not to laugh. "You watch too many damn movies, Kid."
"Yeah, well, anyway, that's why flying freaks me out." I put my arms around his waist and gazed up at him, pure sincerity in my voice. "I don't want to be forced to eat you."
Emmett snickered his mind forever in the gutter.
"Nothing like that is going to happen, all right?" he said, kissing the top of my head to appease me. "Besides, people tend not to survive over-the-water plane crashes."
"What?" I glared and jabbed him in the stomach. "Really, Edward? You can't say that kind of shit to me."
"Aww, come here, baby." He laughed, reaching out for my shirt. "I was just fucking with you."
"No, no, it's fine," I said, brushing him off and taking a significant step back, edging further away from his grasp. "You can go ahead and fly on your death plane. I'll just walk."
"All the way to Mexico City?" He cocked a skeptical eyebrow, stalking after me.
"Sure, why not?" I said, walking backward with my hands raised in front of me as protection. But, unfortunately, he was still close enough to grab me.
Emmett had gone inside to return the hotel key and left us alone—which was never a smart thing to do.
"That's over two thousand miles, Kid. It would take you a month to fucking get there," he said, eyes darkening, a sly smile curling his lips. "And who knows, by the time you do get there, I might be shacked up with the local cuisine."
I scowled. "You better be talking about opening a fucking restaurant, Cullen."
Because Lord knows, if he were talking about another woman, she wouldn't be alive after I got there.
"Baby," he stopped, scratching the scruff along his jaw, "don't make me force you into the car."
"Are you threatening me?" I chewed on the inner part of my cheek, curbing a smile. My legs twitched, ready to turn around at a moment's notice and run for it.
"It's not a threat, it's a fucking promise. How do you want to play this?" He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "It's your call."
"Well, I choose—" but I couldn't finish that sentence because he sprang for me.
I was quick, managing to duck under his arm and run to the other side of the car. He blocked my escape at every turn. Finally, after a tense minute of back and forth, bob and weave, he grew impatient and gunned it around the front of the car. I bolted, and he chased me all over the parking lot. My legs were burning with each strenuous stride, and by the fourth lap, he reached out and grabbed me.
"Gotcha!"
"Let go of me!" I screamed and kicked, trying to free myself, but he was strong, tugging me back and spinning me around.
"Never," he said, thrusting me into his chest and capturing my lips. I went limp, entirely absorbed by his kiss. He loosened his grip on my waist, our mouths never disengaging, and moved his hands to my face to hold me still.
Nothing outside of him mattered in those moments. I didn't hear anything around us. I couldn't sense when danger was coming. It faded into the background, a dim humming in my ears. He had that effect on me, all too dangerous and ill-fated ignorance.
It was Edward's job to keep tabs on the outside world.
"What the fuck, Eddie?" Emmett said, shoving him in the back and breaking our kiss. "Do you guys not hear that shit?"
Then, brought back to earth, I noticed the police sirens in the distance and a helicopter overhead. The radio in the car was alerting all available units in the area of our location. They were en route, and the estimated arrival time was less than five minutes. But they were closer than that by the loud screeching of the sirens and white light from the sky.
Edward failed miserably. He was hopeless and ignorant, just like me.
"Yeah, I hear it," Edward grunted, annoyed, but his eyes were steely and calm. He seized my chin and gave me a quick peck on the lips. "Get in the car, baby."
I nodded, glancing over my shoulder and noticing forty sets of eyes on me. Several people were coming out of their rooms to investigate the sudden commotion. I wonder if they knew who we were or what was going on, but they got a good look at our vehicle. It wasn't ideal circumstances, but a typical occurrence for two outlaws with the worst fucking luck.
At this point, I was so used to having my heart flutter with anxiety that I didn't even bother to rush to get into the car.
"You buckled in?" Edward asked, sliding into the seat next to me a few seconds later.
"Yup," I said, tugging the belt across my chest.
Emmett hopped into the front and started the car. It roared to life, a powerful engine. He was antsy and panicked, glancing out the rearview mirror, waiting for hell to be unleashed upon me. "If we get caught…."
"We won't," Edward said, giving Emmett's headrest a gentle nudge. "Just drive us to the airport."
Emmett shifted the car in reverse and punched the gas. The tires spun and smoked, leaving a rubber tread as he sped the Mercedes out of the parking lot. The car was going fifty when we reached the road, nearly fishtailing and crashing into a ditch. He was driving like a fucking maniac.
I grasped Edward's thigh for stability and turned around to look out the back window. Numerous police cars were coming up from the north, about a mile and a half behind us. Their lights, red and blue, a fucking justice rainbow, flickered and lit up the night. The ghetto bird, chop, chop, chop, hovered over the hotel, its bright spotlight illuminating the tile roof.
It wouldn't take them long to track us down, and Emmett, sweating their proximity, stepped on the gas. We were doing over a hundred now. It was nuts. I was more afraid of a fiery crash and mangled metal than the dozen police two miles down the road.
Edward's soothing voice and encouraging words were the only things that calmed him, but he didn't fully relax until he turned right onto another street and removed all the lights from his rearview mirror.
"Jesus, what a fucking rush," Emmett said with disbelief and relief. He turned back in the seat and grinned, fucking ear to ear. "Never a dull moment with you two, is there?"
Edward and I laughed, stealing a glance at each other.
He didn't even know half of it.
It was 9:55 on a Thursday night, and Edward and I were sitting in the car at a private airport between South Phoenix and Casa Grande, waiting for Marcus' plane to land. It was four minutes out. Emmett was sitting on the car's hood, chugging back water and talking to Rosalie on his phone. She was with Alice in Mexico. They didn't make the trip to break Edward and me out of jail. Their men wouldn't let them. Too dangerous, they said. I would love to see Edward try to tell me that.
Guerrero Municipal Airport was where we planned to meet Marcus. A wealthy business tycoon owned it with dirty endeavors. There have been countless drug runs on the planes that landed there. It was kept quiet, and no one advertised it. The only people who knew of the existence of this airport were the ones doing all the smuggling and transporting, and this was where Marcus had his merchandise flown in. They were small, unregistered Cessna aircraft. The thought of flying in those made me nervous, but Edward assured me that Marcus was arriving in his Learjet 85 model.
"That's bigger than the Cessna, right?" I asked, biting the shit out of the corner of my thumbnail.
"Yes, it's bigger." Edward smiled and eased my hand away from my mouth. "The plane is worth seventeen million dollars."
My heart stopped and then went pitter-patter.
"Are you kidding me?"
He shook his head.
"How in the hell can he afford seventeen million dollars for a plane, but you lived in a shitty two bedroom apartment in West Phoenix?" I asked him, trying to add up all his expenses in my head. Nothing he owned would make him seem that fucking broke. It didn't make sense.
"We preferred to keep things low key in the States."
"Yeah, that's an understatement," I said, a thought occurring. "Wait, I thought you two were in business together."
"No, we did business with each other and that was it. I had my connections and he had his. It just so happens, his merchandise was far better than anything being trafficked in Mexico. He liked me and the services I provided because I was good getting the shit past the border and distributed in America." He fumbled with the door panel in the car, pulling back the clear, plastic covering. "It was a sweet partnership…while it lasted."
I didn't know things about him and Marcus, and it may be my fault for not asking. It made me feel like we were on two completely different islands separated by water that extended for miles. I tried to bridge the gap and got closer every day with my stones and tweed rope, but it wasn't fast enough for me. I was growing impatient.
"It's funny," I said, idly picking the small lint off his jeans, "but I always feel like you don't tell me everything. Like there is this whole other world to you that I don't know about."
"I know," he said, running his hand over his face and flipping the hoodie off his head. There was something he wanted to tell me. I could see it in the way he gnawed on his lip ring. If he didn't come out soon, he would be outside this car puffing away on a cigarette. His nervous and anxious habits had a cycle. I knew them well.
"The terms we agreed on in Chicago still stands," I said, plucking that fucking lip from his teeth.
"Exclusivity, I know. I remember," Edward said, taking my hand and tracing the rough cuts on my knuckles. He smiled. "And it's yours. All of it."
There was this knot manifesting in my stomach, tense and uneasy. I lowered my head to get a better look at his face, narrowing my eyes. "What are you not telling me?"
He was a blank slate, gazing down at the clock on his phone and waiting for the neon numbers to change. It was rare for him to ignore me this way. I didn't want to keep pushing him, but he was hiding something from me—and after everything, we've been through? I felt flushed, not in a good way, and yanked away from his grasp, folding my hands on my lap. I scooted across the seat and crossed my legs, pressing my knees into the door. My back was turned to him, and he couldn't see how pissed off I was, but I'm sure he felt it.
"Bella," he said after one minute and thirty-four seconds of uncomfortable silence. He rubbed my back, and I jerked away. He got closer, putting his arms around me and resting his chin on my shoulder. "Can you trust me enough to believe that I'll tell you things when you need to know them?"
I turned around just enough to meet his gaze. "Can the same go for me?" I raised my eyebrow, testing him. "Do you trust me enough to keep things from you?"
"God, woman," he groaned, biting my shoulder hard, and rolled away to the other side of the car. "You're fucking impossible!"
"Yeah, well, you're no picnic yourself," I said, going over to my corner of the car and back to ignoring him.
When Emmett got off the phone to tell us the plane was about to land, he could see the mood between Edward and me had shifted and changed for the worse. He was a smart guy and didn't ask. He backed away slowly and unloaded the car, handing the keys to one of Marcus' guys.
"Let's go," Edward said, getting out of the car. He didn't wait for me, slamming the door.
The Learjet came in and landed a few yards from where we all stood. It was loud, white, and beautiful. It was the most incredible plane I'd ever seen. It wasn't big like a 747, but it wasn't tiny like a cracked-out Cessna. It was perfect, and I could see seventeen million dollars being well-spent.
I stared in fascination as the hatch opened and the stairs came down. A man appeared in the lighted doorway, and I squinted, unable to see him clearly.
"Marcus!" Emmett shouted, jogging up to greet him.
I watched them interact in a simple matter. Emmett was animated and cracking jokes with him. In all the times I thought of this scary man, the many forms I'd imagined the devil to be, this was not it. He looked nothing like his brother Caius. Marcus was tall, handsome, and dressed to the nines in a black suit. I was stunned and nervous.
"Come on," Edward said, putting his arm over my shoulders and leading me towards the plane.
Marcus didn't seem dangerous with his kind smile and fluid movements, but that was my assessment from a distance. When I met him and heard him speak, I was more than convinced that he would never hurt a fly.
"Edward," he said, shaking his hand. "Glad to see you're alive and intact…." He stood back and took in Edward's rough appearance. "Well, mostly intact, anyway."
"I can't thank you enough for doing this for us," Edward said, and it was genuine.
Marcus waved him off. "It was nothing. I owe you, remember?"
"Yes, but I do believe you paid me in full with the Chicago trip."
Marcus' eyes brightened, and he smiled. "That was a fun trip. I hadn't done that in years."
I stood there, glancing back and forth between the two men. They were speaking in code. What business did Marcus have in Chicago? The only thing I could think of was Ramon and the Wildcat. The mere thought of that white powder made my stomach churn in disgust.
"Which reminds me," Marcus said, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit and pulling out an old Polaroid. "I took this for you. Forgive the poor quality. Old habits die hard."
Edward took the picture and stared down at it. There was no emotion in his eyes. Instead, he gave a firm nod and a silent thanks to Marcus, and all too quickly, he was shoving it into his back pocket until I stopped him.
"What is that? Let me see," I said, standing on my tip-toes and peering over his shoulder. He had it face up in his palm, and I gasped. "Is that..."
"Yup," Edward said. "It's done."
It was a gruesome picture and depiction of Senator Carlisle Cullen with a single gunshot wound between the eyes. Marcus' business in Chicago, I now realized, was a hit. He killed Edward's father as payment and thanks for Caius.
Tit for tat, both men, had accomplished for each other what the other one couldn't do on his own.
"It's Isabella, correct?" Marcus asked, and my head snapped to the sound.
"It's Bella," I said, holding my hand out for him to shake, but he grabbed it tightly and firmly, turning it over and kissing it. I watched from the corner of my eyes for Edward's reaction, but he just smiled. No possessive rage or a compulsive eye twitch. He didn't even go for his gun.
Nada.
"It's lovely to finally meet you," he said, his smile never fading. "I've heard so much about you."
I laughed, thinking only of two sources he may have had that spoke about me, and both were biased. "Only believe the good stuff, right?"
"I've heard nothing but good things," he said, dark eyes flitting up and gazing over my head. "Well, well, it seems your reputation precedes you."
Edward and I spun around to see those persistent red and blue lights flashing and coming up fast in the distance. This shit was getting annoying. I'm not sure when I lost that natural panic response a fugitive on the run should have every time a cop was near. Maybe I was tired, but I couldn't find it in me to care.
"How long before you can have this thing up in the air?" Edward asked, eyeing the mobile stairs underneath the belly of the plane and the man pumping gas into the tank.
"Ah, Carlos should be done now, and it shouldn't take longer than a minute to get her off the ground," Marcus stepped aside and, with a broad sweep of his arm, ushered us forward. "We should board."
"I couldn't fucking agree more," Edward said, placing his hand on my lower back to steady me as I climbed the narrow steps.
Once inside the plane, we sat in the plush, cream-colored leather seats and buckled our belts. Emmett sat behind me with earphones, unfazed and oblivious, singing and drumming his fingers on the back of my headrest. I leaned forward and stared out at the oval window. The law was descending upon the airport. There were ten patrol cars and four SUVs. The helicopter was gone, unable to fly over restricted airspace. Yet, even from here, I could sense their urgency. They knew their two fugitives were close to getting away.
They would do anything to stop that from happening.
Edward said something to Marcus, placing a comforting hand on my knee as the door closed and locked. He was disinterested in the drama unfolding outside, unlike me. I was fucking enthralled.
My eyes reflected every tense moment.
The jet rolled forward slowly, lining up with the runway for takeoff. The cops in the airport were frantic. I could see them pacing inside, yelling and demanding the tower to stop the pilot from leaving, but the pilot was a pure-bred Mexican hired directly by Marcus, and he didn't adhere to American laws.
Given the go-ahead from the tower, the pilot propelled the jet forward and increased the speed. Police cars broke through the gate and rode alongside the plane on the tarmac. It was madness. They hung out their windows, showing their guns and badges, but it was pointless. The jet was racing down the runway at nearly a hundred miles an hour. The cops couldn't keep up, and I lost sight of them, blocked by the wing.
I sat back and closed my eyes, clutching the armrests on my seat. There was a sense of excitement coursing through me, not one of fear, but one of triumphant. For the first time, I knew, without a fucking doubt, that I was going to get my happily ever after.
"This is my favorite part," Edward said into my ear, placing his hand over mine and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. Then, the jet tilted back almost vertically and lifted off the land. There was a loud whine and hard thud of the wheels being tucked into the plane, causing my pulse to quicken again. It was when we gained altitude and leveled off that my body relaxed.
"Where's the fucking flight attendant," I said, snapping my eyes open and sitting straight up in my seat. "I need a drink."
"Yeah, I could use one, too," Edward said, glancing around and helping me look.
Marcus unbuckled his belt and stood up. He pulled out a bottle of champagne or wine sitting on ice and poured it into a crystal flute.
"Here," he said, handing Edward and me a glass. "¡Salud!"
"¡Salud!" we both said, clinking our glasses with Marcus.
I put it to my lips and sipped on it. Edward didn't even try it, setting the glass down on the table in front of him. I think he was hoping for a beer, but this was a private jet with a fucking crystal chandelier hanging over our heads. When in Rome, you drink expensive, bubbly shit.
"So, this must be the infamous Isabella?" a deep female voice with a heavy Hispanic accent said, and I turned in my seat to see a stunning woman with dark olive skin and black hair standing behind Marcus. She was smiling at me, genuine and kind. There were no ill intentions behind her sea-green eyes.
"Umm, yes…well, it's Bella." I floundered, not knowing what to say. She wasn't intimidating, more elegant and fragile looking if anything. It was her sudden emergence that caught me by surprise.
"Bella, for beautiful," she said, taking the glass out of Marcus' hand and sitting on his lap. "My name is Didyme."
"Oh, of course," I said, everything coming back to me in a flash. "It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise," she said, studying me for a moment. "You're very young."
"Yeah, so I've been told," I said, giving Edward a sideways glance and a wink. He laughed, shaking his head.
"I'm curious, Bella," Didyme said, tilting her head. "Was Caius your first hit?"
The glass flute was at my lips, and I froze, gulping down the champagne. "Yes."
"Did you enjoy it, my dear?" Marcus asked.
"Oh, um…" I slowly set the glass down in front of me. It was uncomfortable. Everyone was staring at me—Edward especially. He had his eyebrow raised and a crooked smirk on his lips. He was curious more than anyone to hear my answer. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts."Well, it happened so fast. I didn't really have time to reflect on it."
Didyme nodded, but Marcus was not satisfied with my answer. "Do you have nightmares?"
I only ever dreamed of Edward and my nightmares involved him. Nothing else. That wasn't what Marcus was asking. He wanted to know if I regretted taking his brother's life—the man who raped the lovely woman on his lap with striking eyes.
"No," I said, and my voice was strong and confident. "No, I don't."
Marcus was pleased, taking a sip from his glass, slow and deliberate. "I think you enjoyed it more than you think." He was right but didn't wait for me to confirm it before shifting his gears and redirecting the conversation. I was all for the subject change. "So, Edward, have you told your Bella the good news?"
"Yeah," Edward cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, "in so many words."
I folded my arms over my chest. "What's the good news?"
Edward lowered his head, speaking to me in a low and rushed voice. "Please trust me."
"What?" I leaned away from him, confused.
"We're going into business together!" Marcus said, clapping his hands together, redirecting my attention. Didyme smiled, rising from his lap and taking a seat beside him. "I've wanted him and his family to come to Mexico and work with me, but he was so attached to America."
"That wasn't the only reason," Edward said, picking up his champagne for the first time since setting it down and tipping it back. He drank it all in one gulp.
"Oh, I know, you've had your own thing going in Arizona, and I've respected that. But I'm thrilled you're willing to try this new venture. I need a man like you to help me expand my growing business," Marcus said, and the enthusiasm was contagious. Yet, somewhat put on for show.
Their combined partnership was straightforward and was explained to me, down to every detail, over an hour. Edward was at the front. His job was to get Marcus' drugs across the border and distribute them throughout Arizona and California. He had connections in those states that Marcus wanted and needed. But, he couldn't get the type of money he craved through the infamous Mexican cartel running around. They were sloppy, and Marcus needed precision.
There was also something else he wanted, a type of marijuana that Jasper had been growing in Mexico for the last year and a half. It was kept quiet for a long time, and Edward's family knew about it, but Marcus was resourceful. It didn't take him much to find out about the greenhouses in Mazatlan.
It was a partnership that would benefit all parties involved, or so he wanted me to believe.
The conversation lulled after a while, and we watched a movie on the big screen. My mind was all over the place, and I couldn't concentrate on the story or fucking anything.
"I'm going to show Bella around the plane," Edward said out of nowhere, standing up from his seat. "She's never been on a Learjet before."
"Oh, of course," Marcus said, not even glancing at Edward's way, waving his hand dismissively. "Make it quick, though. We land in twenty minutes."
"Yeah, no problem," Edward said, grabbing my hand and helping me. "We won't be long."
I followed behind him as he showed me around. We passed by a wet bar, and he pointed to the bathrooms. He commented on becoming a part of mile high club and then pushed me against the nearest wall. He kissed my lips and tempted me with his hands as he found his way underneath my shirt. I was breathless, eagerly tugging on the buckle of his belt and close to becoming a member, when Emmett's loud, overbearing voice and laughter boomed from the front of the cabin. It ruined the mood damn near instantly.
"Come on, Kid," Edward said, hooking the pocket of my jeans and yanking me away from the wall.
The tour was limited. Not much to it. Finally, we reached the plane's tail, a few more seats, but that was it. I turned around to head back toward the front when Edward grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.
"What are you doing?"
"Bella, don't freak out," he said, pressing his body to mine, leaning his head down, almost as if he was going to kiss me. Instead, he whispered into my ear. "But he plans to kill us."
"What?! Who?!" I shouted.
"Fuck," Edward hissed, covering my big, fat mouth. He got closer, overwhelming close. He spoke even lower than a whisper. "Marcus, all right? Listen to me, I've got a plan, but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?" I nodded. "Good. He wants to take over all my connections and Jasper's hippy weed. Once he's got that, he won't need us." Edward's stare was intense, fevered, and cold. The green eyes, clear and mesmerizing, turned black. "I'm going to kill him." My breath caught, taken back by his honesty. "But I can't let him know I'm on to him." He pulled his hand away from my mouth. "I need your help."
"What do you want me to do?" I whispered.
"I'll let you know when the time comes."
"Sure," I scoffed. It was typical of Edward and his need-to-know basis. "And what does the family think of all this?"
"I didn't tell them," he said, his stern expression softening. "It's just you and me, kid."
For the first time, I'd seen how deadly he was and how close I'd come to him blowing off my head blown the night we met. I thought people were exaggerating about him, but they were right. He could've killed me and probably would have, but he didn't. Instead, every minute of every hour of every day since then, he has done nothing but protect and shelter me. He's given me more love in our three months together than I'd ever had in my entire eighteen years of life.
I leaned back and stared at him, awestricken.
"What?" He blinked, confused, and took a step back.
"I can't believe you're with me. That's all. I've been nothing but a pain the ass since the first day we met. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be running from the law or sucked into such bullshit. I'm reckless and immature and moody and crazy and..." I paused. He was smiling at me, and nothing I was saying was getting through to him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Here, let me show you something," he said, taking my hand and putting it next to his. Side by side, there were two sets of bloodied knuckles. "Do you see how they match?" It was eerie how closely the wounds resembled each other. "That's all the proof I need to know you fucking belong with me."
I closed my eyes and nodded, clutching the bottom of his shirt and tugging him into me. "I love you…so, so fucking much."
"I live and die for you," he said, reaching up and palming my face with his rough hands and scorching touch. He kissed me forcefully and deeply. He pulled away, panting against my lips, and tilted his head to the side to glance down the long aisle. There was no one in sight. We were alone in our bubble of exclusivity. "Now, what do you say, kid? Are you going to help me kill this motherfucker or what?"