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.
-Epilogue-
The funny thing about American people as they are fickle with short attention spans. By the time a new year rolled around, the news had stopped talking about this generation Bonnie and Clyde. The result wasn't the expected bloody ambush, and according to everyone invested in the story, Edward Cullen and Bella Swan were a couple of two-bit wannabes. So they downplayed our exploits, and it wasn't long until they moved on to the next big thing.
That was fine by me. I wanted to get lost in the shadows of obscurity. It wasn't fame or recognition that made me do those things with Edward. It was him.
It was always about him.
He was the constant thing in my life and made everything fun and exciting.
I enjoyed the rush of being the bad girl to his bad boy.
But things changed, and life evolved, becoming somewhat different.
Doing crazy shit on a whim and for the hell of it was a thing of the past. Edward said we had to be better, learn to respond, and not react. Marcus was a big fish. You can't catch a big fish diving in and swatting at the water, hoping to get lucky. So instead, you must plan and plot, make a sturdy fishing pole and wait for that nibble.
Patience was the key.
For the first week after we landed in Mexico, it was nothing to be patient. Forgetting about Marcus and the business he hoped to dominate was easy for me. Those seven days were undisturbed and incredible. Edward and I stayed in a beautiful hotel room and toured Mexico City. I stuffed myself silly with chips and salsa. We drove out to the Gulf of Mexico and made love in the surf—which, quickly after that, we were caught and forbidden ever to step foot on that beach again.
It was our honeymoon.
The law, once a burden, was no longer hanging over our heads. We didn't have to look over our shoulders every two seconds, fearing the evil doers would snatch our freedom away. It was like a breath of fresh air, effortless. It was an uncomplicated moment in time.
We relished in it for a while, but as the days progressed and weeks passed, no thrill or kill in sight, Edward and I grew bored of the routine, straight life. We were antsy, needing a release, and it was getting harder to curb our instincts.
Edward decided the only way to satiate the devil inside was by doing all of Marcus' dirty work together and as a team. We would smuggle the drugs and kill anyone who caused a problem. I was the unexpected element thrown into the mix, innocent and sweet. My petite and demure features would distract people from the gun tucked in my waistband.
I was a diversion, the pure and deadly white swan.
It worked like a charm, things ran smoothly, and Edward and I rarely did anything separately.
The latest trip was the exception. It was a more significant shipment of coke, passing through the city of Juarez and up to the border on the outskirts of El Paso. Edward and Jasper were meeting with old contacts, but these men were paranoid and had an extreme fondness for young girls. My presence would only stress Edward out.
He was already taking a massive risk by crossing the border. He was a well-known fugitive with an unforgettable name and face. The last thing he needed was the extra attention on him when he reacted violently, blowing off some fucker's head for looking at me the wrong way.
I agreed to stay back with Emmett as my bodyguard-slash-babysitter. It wasn't necessary, but Edward wouldn't leave me without that extra protection.
He would worry non-stop, but he trusted his boys to take good care of his girl. Nobody outside our family was allowed to go near me, especially when he was gone.
If anyone got remotely close:
"You fucking kill them, kid."
A little later, off the coast of Mexico, I sat on the beach with my toes in the sand. The sun beat down on me, turning my once-pale skin into a blushing shade of pink. The drink in my hand was a margarita, fresh lime, blended and delicious. It was homemade with a tinge of too much Tequila. It burned my throat and warmed my chest.
I needed the extra kick.
The house behind me with the old wooden deck, massive den, and a spectacular kitchen was my home—well, mine and Edward's.
We paid it in full with a wad of cash, no checks or bank loans, just nothing but twenty-dollar bills. Some of it was in quarters, rolled quarters, in a plastic bag.
It still made me giggle.
Leaning back on my elbows, I took a deep breath.
There was nothing but the smell of the ocean in the air. A cool breeze came in from the west, whirling and whipping my hair around my face. The waves were crashing and lapping at my feet. The tide would roll in in two hours, and I would have to get up. But right now, I was content, enjoying the sounds of the coast and the feeling of freedom.
It was peaceful and almost perfect. The only thing missing was Edward.
He'd been gone for four horrible, lifeless days, the longest separation between us since Chicago.
I thought about him every second. The daily calls he made to me, every hour on the hour, barely eased the distance, but above all else, they were necessary for our sanity. We've learned the hard way that being apart was unhealthy and dangerous—for everyone.
Sitting up and glancing over at my phone, I realized that Edward hadn't called me in a few hours. The last time we spoke was around ten this morning. Jasper and Edward were leaving Juarez and would be home tomorrow. The sadness of sleeping another night without Edward put me in a mood. After sulking for two hours, I decided to get out of the house and get some sun—anything to take my mind off him.
But like everything else I'd done since he left to help me forget, the self-imposed exile was short-lived.
I picked up my phone and opened the contacts. My finger hovered over my old man's name, debating whether or not to call him. I promised him that I wouldn't unless there was a life-or-death emergency, and this wasn't one of those times, but I missed hearing his voice. I needed that much, even if it was just a hello and goodbye conversation.
"Fuck it," I said, a decision in place, pressing down on the send button and putting the phone to my ear. It rang once and went straight to voicemail. The asshole didn't even personalize it. I listened to the automated, robotic voice message for less than a second before hanging up. "Damn it!"
There was no use in redialing. Either Edward had his phone off, or worse, he ignored my call. I didn't want to resort to calling Jasper, but it's been over four hours, and my mind was coming up with scenarios of why he hadn't called me.
Things were so horrid and twisted, and I didn't even want to think about it.
Pushing the wayward hair from my face, I scrolled through my phone and found Jasper's number. It rang once, twice, four times, and so on.
My heart sank with dread with every ring. I chewed the hell out of my lip and tried not to overreact.
"Come on, come on, pick up, pick up," I said to no one, but someone was listening, their strong arm around my neck and a gun forced to my left temple. I froze, and my breath stilled, eyes wide, staring out into the vast ocean. The ringing of Jasper's line was still loud in my ears.
"Not a fucking word." A deep, rough voice overwhelmed me. The man smelled like cigarettes and peppermint. I bet he tasted like sin. "You understand?"
I nodded with a knowing smile, my hand dropping and setting my phone down.
He tightened his bicep around my throat, lessening the pressure of the gun's muzzle against my forehead, slowly moving it down towards my chest. "Where's that piece of a shit boyfriend of yours?"
"Gone," I said and peered down at the Colt as it descended across my sweat-covered skin, teetering on the outer hem of my bikini top. "He left me."
"He left you?" he asked, slipping the gun underneath the fabric and swirling the tip of the barrel around my nipple, hardening it.
My eyes fluttered closed. "Yes."
"What a fucking idiot," he said in a low, possessive growl, gripping my face and yanking my head to the side. Breathing me in, he trailed his nose along the pulsating vein in my neck. "If you were my girl, I would bury my face between your legs..." I reached behind and grasped onto his thighs, pulling him closer into my back, "…and fucking lick the shit out of that pussy, every second of the day."
The thought of his tongue flicking and plunging into me, his teeth grazing and nibbling my clit, caused my heart to race. The blood rose to the surface and rushed down to my lower lips, throbbing and tingling with need.
"Then do it," I said, shifting my hips up, begging to be touched. "Put your fucking mouth on me."
"Christ," he groaned, his will crumbling fast, and within the next second, I was on my back, and Edward was on top, pinning me down with his weight. He held my face in his hands, and I wrapped my fingers around his wrists, lifting myself as he bent down, our lips crashing together.
Edward's kisses were passionate and unyielding. He was everywhere and invaded me from the inside out. I felt the impression of his touch deep in my bones. I couldn't think or speak. Escaping his hold on me would be impossible.
"Damn, baby," he rolled off me and chuckled, "if we didn't have a house full of people, I'd fucking make good on my word."
"Kick them out," I said, running my fingers through his hair and getting a good grip. It'd grown into a shaggy, chaotic mess, and I stared at him, mesmerized, as the sun reflected the red and golden hues in each stand.
"Believe me, I want to..." he slipped his hand under my top and shamelessly groped me, "...fuck you so hard right now..." he sighed, "...but we can't."
Jutting my lip out in a pout, I reached down between our tightly conformed bodies and tugged on the buckle of his belt.
"God, woman," he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine, "don't fucking tempt me, all right? It's all I've been thinking about these four days." Then, pinching my nipple for good measure, he removed his hand from underneath my top and sat up. "It's been fucking Hell."
Rebuffed and frustrated, my mouth started moving before my brain could intervene and shut it down. "I've probably touched myself a million times since you left, but nothing seemed to help. Now, that's Hell."
He was fucking with his gun, cocking it and popping the bullet out of the chamber, but everything stopped when I said that, and he shot me a heated, almost lustful, glare. "That wasn't nice."
"Yeah, well, getting me all riled up, knowing that you couldn't finish what you started—"
"Oh, I'll fucking finish it," he interrupted, putting his hand on my thigh and squeezing it.
"When?" I asked, jerking my leg away from him. He smirked. "Exactly."
"Okay, you're right. It was a dick thing to do."
"Yeah, it was," I said, gathering up all my belongings and stuffing them in an oversized beach bag.
"But when I saw you sitting out here in that fucking string bikini," he brushed my hair away and kissed my sun burnt shoulder, "I couldn't help myself."
I ignored his mouth by going about my business, pouring out the margarita, and picking up my phone. It reminded me how he was here kissing me and not somewhere else dodging my calls.
"Wait a minute," I said, pulling my shoulder away from his lips. "What are you doing at home? You said you wouldn't get in until tomorrow."
"Yeah, about that," he said, scraping his teeth over his lip ring and sucking it into his mouth. "I kind of have a surprise for you."
It was not the answer I expected, but it made me curious and slightly giddy. "What kind of surprise?"
Tucking his gun into his back waistband, he stood up and held out his hand. "Come on, I'll show you."
"Okay," I said, and with a firm grasp, his long fingers dwarfing my hand, he yanked me to my feet. Bending down, he picked me up off the ground, holding me close to his chest as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He placed his hands, firmly and protectively, on my ass and walked us toward the house. I smiled a shit-eating grin. "You're carrying me?"
"I don't want you peeking," he said, shifting me higher in his arms to get a better grip. Then, he gazed up at me with a stern look. "Shut your eyes."
"Fine," I said, burrowing my face into the crook of his neck, letting the blackness engulf me.
I listened to the sounds around me: the crashing waves in the distance, Edward's heavy footsteps in the sand, music thumping from the house, and Emmet's loud and abrasive voice, screaming out, 'Line up the shots.'
A party was brewing inside, and I tried not to groan outwardly. I knew my family. They were going to stay forever and a day. Getting any alone time with Edward was going to be nearly impossible now.
Thus far, my surprise wasn't going so well.
"Damn," Edward grunted, scaling the stairs to the deck.
My mind's eye followed his path. I knew the layout of this house like the back of my hand. He didn't go inside, heading straight to the front porch. I strained my ears, hoping to catch a hint of something to clue me in on the surprise. There was the crunching of his shoes on the gravel and the whistling wind ruffling my hair, but nothing else. It drove me nuts. I was getting more and more anxious by the minute.
"Can I open my eyes now?"
"Hold on," he said, stopping and setting me back down on my feet. "Keep those fucking eyes closed, Bella."
"They're closed, okay? Jesus." I'd about reached my limit on this little game of his, and my annoyance was shining through.
He spun me around, his hands on my arms, and directed my every step forward. I counted them because what the hell was I supposed to do? It took five steps and one spin. My heart was pounding so hard and fast it felt like I was going to die.
"Alright," Edward said, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his chin on my shoulder. "You can open your eyes now."
The sun blinded me, my sight taking a moment to adjust to the brightness. I saw a deep cherry red when the white haze lifted and dispersed. The glossy paint and sleek lines didn't register at first. It was like trying to remember a fading dream, grasping onto every single detail and not getting the whole picture, but then all at once and without warning, it fucking hits you.
"Is that…" I couldn't articulate words, my tongue fumbling in my mouth. Finally, I stumbled forward to touch it. "This can't be real. She was taken away. I saw it happen." My fingers reached out and ghosted over the side. The car was smooth yet dusty. "Fucking Tanya…" I turned back to Edward; he was smiling at me, one so genuine and happy that it reached his eyes. "How did you get her back?"
"Alice found her. It was auctioned off a few months ago and sold to a guy who lives in El Paso. So, I decided to drive up there and make him an offer."
The way he made it sound like it was an inside joke, I knew what he'd done.
"You fucking killed him," I said, shaking my head. "Didn't you?"
He shrugged, a sly smile breaking through his indifference.
"You know, not every transaction needs to result in murder, Edward," I said, trying hard not to laugh, but his thought process was brutal and deadly. It turned me on far more than it should.
"Some assholes need to be persuaded with violence."
That was his answer for everything.
"Right…wait," I said, snapping my head up and narrowing my eyes at him. "So you lied to me? There was no shipment for Marcus in El Paso."
"No," he said, putting his hands on my hips and gripping me tight. "You know I don't do that fucking shit without you, kid. I was so sure that you would see straight through my bullshit."
"Hmm, well, I believed you because I fucking trust you," I said, grabbing and twisting the fabric of his shirt in my fists.
He frowned. "You're not mad, are you?"
"No," I said, rising to my tip-toes and kissing him on those beautiful lips. "This was a nice surprise. Thank you."
"This wasn't your surprise."
I leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"Here," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out some keys. It was a singular brass key, worn and bent, hooked to a keychain with a large diamond-studded B attached to it. "These are your keys to our car."
The word 'our' didn't get missed by me.
"Tanya is mine, too?" I couldn't breathe. "Are you fucking serious?"
"Everything that's mine has always been yours," he said, bending down to kiss me. He pulled away, only slightly, and whispered. "But that's not your surprise."
"Ugh, I can't take anymore."
"Oh, sure you can," he said, taking my hand and leading me toward the back of the car. He smiled and did a sideways nod at the trunk. "Open it."
My heart pulsed and thumped with excitement. The anticipation behind door number three made me nervous. I stood there, key in hand, and shook with trepidation. I took a deep breath, bravely facing my final surprise, shoving the key into the lock and twisting my wrist. It clicked and unlocked. The trunk crept open, slow and dragging, inch by tedious inch. It revealed the last thing I'd ever expected to see.
My jaw dropped, the keys fell to the ground, and a small dust cloud rose from the impact.
A bounded and gagged Renee and Phil lay on the floor of the cramped trunk. Edward didn't have to say it, and his intent was clear.
My old man brought them home to die.
"Oh, yes, this is a very good surprise," I said, bending down to get eye level with the sobbing, pitiful excuse for a woman. "Hello, Mother." I flicked a few strands of bleached hair from her face. "Have you missed me?"
She whimpered. The rag in her mouth with duct tape to secure her screams was hindering her speech. I imagined she said, "Yes, I did miss you, my wonderful daughter."
Phil was grunting and struggling, making himself a nuisance, and bile for this man rose in my throat. All these memories of when he would eye-fuck me across the room and secretly plot ways to touch me came flooding back. It made my blood boil. I would've popped one off his skull if I had my gun.
Edward cleared his throat. "Bella, you're going to fucking hate me, but this isn't your surprise."
I stood back up and shook my head, fucking confused. "What? No! Seriously, Edward, what else is there? This is perfect."
"There is just one more thing," he said, gazing down at her. "Renee, you're up."
She cried, her shoulders shaking, tears streaming down her blotchy cheeks. I hadn't noticed that she was holding something in her hands. It was a single, white piece of paper. She clutched it with her nails, trembling with fear as she raised her arms. She got it halfway before letting it fall back down into her lap. Another round of appalling sobs rocked her body.
"Renee," Edward said, pulling out his gun and pressing it to the center of her forehead. "What did we fucking discuss?"
With a muffled response and tightly closed eyes, she lifted her shaky hands and showed me the paper's front page. It had a familiar scribbling handwriting I'd only seen once before in a birthday card, but the message written there, bold and potent, made my fucking heart stop.
Marry me.
To be continued…