“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” Quinn ran down the handful of steps into the garage as their contingent arrived home. “Have you seen a doctor?”
Edward shook his head, gripping Quinn’s shoulder before he could throw his arms around him. “It’s not my blood.”
The quiet statement rang hollowly through Edward’s soul. Not this time, it’s not, that nagging voice said. But maybe next time. Or maybe it would be his wife, or his children, or one of his brothers-in-arms.
“Maeve and Cat will freak out, Dad.” Quinn took Edward’s duffel bag from his hands. “Better shower in the basement.”
Bella took a second to hug Quinn before she disappeared. Sighing, Edward accepted his son’s suggestion and trudged down the stairs. It could be said the game was nearly finished, if they didn't mind the end result of death and destruction. The tracker on the bomb confirmed they were holding it in an office building near the waterfront, one devoid of human life but protected by automated weapons as though it were Fort Knox.
Despite the hot water running down his body, his muscles wouldn't relax. Rivers of red washed down the drain, and Edward envisioned it as his own. What would the future look like for his family if he were gone? They’d be fine, if he were honest. Sure, they’d miss him, but they were all smart and strong enough to proceed with their lives. Bella had a business of her own, and his will was concise in who inherited what. Nobody would hurt for money, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that was all he brought to their lives. He represented more than safety and security, of course, but when the fate of the world rested in his hands, he couldn't allow his ego to impede his decisions.
Toweling off, he found the clothes he left in the linen cabinet for that exact purpose and slipped them on. Sweatpants were more comfortable than Crye pants and Kevlar vests, that was for certain, but his discomfort ran further than skin deep. Bella was ready to sacrifice her life for the greater good, and he had forbidden her in no uncertain terms. But perhaps the answer was for him to make a sacrifice instead, in order to save everyone else’s life. If a bullet was coming their way, he’d jump in front of it without hesitation. Wasn't the bomb threat the same situation, if not slower and more diabolical?
He couldn't get the image of Kiernan’s lifeless eyes out of his head. Obviously not the first man to die in front of him, the agent’s death was nonetheless a harsh reminder of what they were up against. Emmett could have died. Jasper could have died. Both of them were right there in the line of fire.
Climbing the stairs, Edward locked the basement door behind him before reaching the second door, going through the motions to push aside the false wall and replace all of it. The basement no longer held the secrets it once did, but it was helpful to lock everything behind him, anyway.
Eleazar and Afton had stayed out of the war to focus on their business, and Edward couldn't blame them. It kept Renee safe, not to mention Eleazar and Carmen’s girls and their families. Safe was a relative term at that point, but he felt better knowing they didn't have to worry about the immediate danger unless he failed.
And then he’d have to explain how they’d all die in a powerful, atom-sucking void because he couldn't do his job. There was simply too much stress clouding his mind to figure out what to do next. If he thought he could sleep, he’d lay down, but that was out of the question. He’d taken to sleeping on the couch in his office for more than one reason. First, he stayed up all hours of the night trying to find the answers, so it was easier to catch a nap right there after being awake until four in the morning. Two, his wife was pissed at him, and he felt certain she didn't want him warming her bed anytime soon.
Anxiety had settled on each of them like a shroud. Tempers ran higher than usual and dispositions were a bit skewed. But he couldn't abide the accusations she’d thrown at him, her audacity in ordering him around. At a time when they should come together, he wanted to send her away. If she wasn't there, he could do what needed to be done without worrying about hurting her feelings or watching his back. Gianna had information, and he’d done what was necessary to coax it out of her.
As Edward passed through the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee, Tyler stood at his usual place at the stove. Clean mugs lined the marble countertop, and the coffeepot gurgled with a fresh batch of his personal favorite. That first sip always sent a warmth through his veins, like coming home at the end of a long day. It was about the only constant thing in his life at the moment.
“Thanks for keeping this place running, Ty.”
“Oh, um, you’re welcome, sir.”
Rare was the day Edward remembered to compliment his chef. “I apologize for not telling you more often, but I appreciate the effort you put in.”
“Absolutely.”
Mug in hand, Edward wandered toward the living room. Rose’s sobs could be heard far down the hall, and Edward’s heart clenched at the sound. He listened to Emmett soothe his wife and recalled the many times they’d been in that situation over the years. Though she’d learned to accept the danger in their lives, there’d been enough time without it that they’d all grown complacent. Safety was something they took for granted most days; maybe they were being punished for their lax approach to life.
Passing the doorway, he decided to continue down the hall instead of joining them. Normally, he’d be right there to console everyone, but he simply didn't have enough empathy left inside him. Before he reached the door to his office, he heard Garrett calling his name.
“Yeah?”
The two men entered the office together, sitting in chairs on opposite sides of the desk.
“Katie wants to come back.”
Edward’s brows rose, and he set his mug down. “She’s safer in Vancouver.”
“That’s what I told her, but we both know it’s a lie.”
Sitting back, Edward steepled his fingers. “The danger is here in Seattle.”
“No, the danger is in the world-ending bomb we just gave to the terrorists. Let’s face it, it’s not looking good for us. We’d rather be together in what little time we have left.”
Not that he would tell Garrett he couldn't bring his wife home, but Edward wanted to shout at him that the battle may be lost, but the war was far from over. Instead, he said, “You know we’ll protect her the best we can.”
“Of course, boss.”
“Thanks, Garrett. For everything. For blocking my father at the gate a million years ago, for being a brother to me, and for putting your ass on the line for me over and over.”
“It’s more than just my job, Edward.”
“I know.”
Watching the large man leave the room, Edward considered their conversation. He suddenly felt the need to tell everyone what he’d neglected to say over the years, but he expected them to feel as if nothing was wrong. As if they had everything under control, when in reality they were careening down a steep incline with no brakes on two burning tires.
Someone knocked on the door Garrett had just closed. “Come in.”
Jasper stormed in, banging the door against the wall. “We’ve had a message from Zion, and it’s not good.”
“What now?”
“First, they’re mocking us for thinking they didn't know we’re working with the CIA.”
Edward massaged his temples. “Somehow, I’m not surprised they knew.”
“They’re also mocking us for the tracker we placed on the bomb.”
“Jesus, are we ever one tiny fucking step ahead?” He drained the remains of his lukewarm coffee, feeling his blood pressure spike. “It was supposed to be untraceable, according to the fuckwits at the godforsaken agency.”
“There’s more.”
When Jasper didn't continue, Edward made a get on with it motion with his hand.
“They want us to hand over someone they’re calling Lebed.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“For now, they aren't saying. They’re just warning us that before it’s all over, they’ll ask for Lebed, and we’ll hand them over willingly.”
“That’s just more cat and mouse games, so who the fuck cares?”
“That wasn't the worst of it.”
Dropping his hands with a thud, Edward barked, “For fuck’s sake, spit it out already.”
“It’s Renee.”
Shoving his chair back, Edward stood and braced his palms on the desk. “What about her?”
“I haven't called Afton or El to confirm, but Zion claims to have targeted Renee.”
Jasper’s calm voice did nothing to quell the sickness in Edward’s gut. He’d tried to keep the Denalis out of their mess as much as possible. It wasn't their fight.
“Why, because we’re allies?” Not knowing where to expel his excess energy, he paced. “Because I sign off on their activities under the Cullen name to keep some Italian motherfucker from calling Omertà on my ass?”
“They haven't exactly given a reason.”
“What do they want? Assuming we call Afton and find out something tragic has happened to his wife’s guards, what are they demanding for her return?”
Jasper wouldn't lift his gaze, and an icy feeling formed in the pit of Edward’s stomach.
“What?”
“They claim she’s already dead.”
“I have to sit down.” The nearest armchair made a home for his ass when his knees gave out. Renee was his children’s grandmother. His wife would not survive him telling her that her mother had died because he failed. His mother-in-law had become a warm, compassionate woman in the years since they’d been related. It had to be a mistake. If this was still about Laurent and Gianna, Renee Denali had absolutely zero connection to Edward except through his wife. It was a brutal way to exact revenge.
“Edward.”
“Dammit, shut up for a second!”
“Would you rather I sugarcoat it? Outright lie?” Jasper’s tone was patient, but Edward was ready to punch him. “We can’t sit on this.”
“I’d rather have honesty any time, any day, but give me a few minutes to digest the truth when it’s this hard to accept.”
A minute ticked by. “Assuming they aren’t lying, how do you want me to proceed?”
“Fuck me.” Wiping his mouth, Edward stared at his oldest friend. “I need proof before I tell anyone.”
“Understandable.”
“Call . . . someone. You have contacts within the Denali organization. Find out where Afton is, where they think Renee is. Find out the truth, Jasper, and tell me immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alone again, Edward tried to process his feelings. If it was true, what would they do? Dare he say he loved her, when he typically reserved that emotion for his wife and kids? Had he grown enough as a man over time that he could admit he loved his mother-in-law rather than just having feelings of affection for her?
God, it was his fault. He’d ordered the hit on Laurent, he’d mocked Gianna’s feelings when he didn't want to honor the arranged marriage. He’d essentially told Heidi to fend for herself because Laurent had provoked him. Of course, the provocation was trying to kill him and Bella, but he’d been unsuccessful. No matter how much he wished it, there were no second chances in the end. He could only make peace with his mistakes.
That mistake might have cost his wife her only living parent.
When word came back from within the Denali organization, Edward learned that Afton and Renee had been together with a few of their guards. There was nothing more to do, no one to chase down and rescue, no remains other than ashes and mangled metal. His ally’s brother had paid the price for Edward’s shortcomings. Afton had died for nothing, his wife . . . for nothing.
With lead feet, Edward climbed the stairs to his bedroom. Bella slept, and he nearly took the coward’s way out. In the end, he had to bite the bullet and tell her. Resting a hand on her shoulder, he felt the rise and fall of her breathing as her eyes fluttered open.
The words wouldn't come to him. Unmoving, she gazed up at him with confusion on her face. His mouth opened and closed, then reopened. “I have bad news.”
She sat up, the sheet falling to her lap. “The kids?”
“No, they’re fine.”
“Is it Zion?”
“Yes.”
Her head fell, and he watched a tear fall onto the back of her hand. “What have they done now?”
“It’s, ah . . .”
“Just tell me already.” Her head came up. “What else could they possibly take from me that they haven't already?”
“Your mother.”
The words hung in the empty space between them, her jaw dropping and her eyes going wide. It was obvious she wanted to deny the truth, but it was right there in front of her.
“It’s your fault.”
There was another truth he wished he could deny.
“All of this, it’s your fault. You should have never slept with me, never gotten me pregnant, never married me.”
Understanding her grief was one thing, but hearing the words spoken out loud was another. They were armor piercing words. The shield around his heart hardened in defense.
The only sound between them was her harsh breathing. Then she clenched her fists and screamed at him, garbled sounds accompanying her blows to his face, his shoulders, his chest. As her strength waned, she wept into her hands, slumping forward. Grief could turn to anger in a moment, and he was left without recourse in the aftermath of her assault. There was no greater punishment to levy than the death of her mother, and a reprimand would have been cruel.
Thinking to find Rose or Angela, he rose from the bed he knew he’d not sleep in. Her parting words reached their intended target.
“I'm not even angry, I'm just disappointed.”
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| Crye Pants |
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