SBC #3 Chap 1 2 13:01

Summary: When the youngest Cullen finds himself in danger of a cold blooded killer, the FBI hire one of the most dedicated and ruthless protectors out there. What will happen when an attempted murder forces mousy, invisible "Marie Dwyer" to kidnap the popular bad-boy?

Hey, everybody! I was in front of the computer, and this suddenly came from my fingertips. I wasn't going to publish it, because it was going nowhere, when all of a sudden I had, like, eight chapters and a plot! So here it is!

Chapter One: BPOV 2nd person

She paused before leaving, sending a cursory glance at her reflection in the mirror on Mr. Dwyer's hallway wall. Hair, check. No brown roots showing. Face, check. Just a few pimples, some light freckles. Colored lenses in. Clothes, check. Dull grays and blacks, nondescript, unnoticeable. She quickly lifted her shirt, double-checking to make sure her new "love-handles" were strapped on properly. Check.

She was ready to go.

Her body was coiled with anticipation. She grinned slightly at herself. There was a reason Carlisle Cullen had called her in for this job.

She was the best.

She had barely reached the school parking lot when her phone rang. She reached into her bag and dug it out, flipping it open and reversing into an empty space easily.

"Hello?"

"It's me. Are you at the school yet?"

"I just pulled in."

"Okay, from here on out, no more calls made to my phone unless it's an emergency. Don't—"

"As touching as your concern is, Black, I do not need someone to hold my hand while I cross the street."

"No?"

"Was there something in specific you wanted, Black?"

"You, darling."

"I'm hanging up now." And she did.

Three seconds later, her phone rang again. "What?" she answered.

"Just wishing you good luck."

"Luck is your forte, Black, not mine. I do appreciate the gesture, though."

"I knew you would. If you don't mind me asking—actually, even if you do—what exactly is your forte, Swan?"

She smirked, knowing exactly what he wanted and having no intention of giving it to him.

"Winning."

She'd had a terrible first day, not that you could tell by looking at her. As if being forced to relive high school wasn't nauseating enough, she was also being forced to relive high school with power-hungry ladder-climbers out for her blood.

It was okay though. It was just taunting. 'Marie Antoinette' was popular. So was 'Dyke Dwyer'. She shrugged mentally, smiling at the immaturity of it all. She missed those days. The days where your biggest problem was that English essay due tomorrow that you hadn't started or that kid on the playground who yanked your metaphorical pigtails.

God, she missed those days.

"Get over it, Swan," she muttered to herself. "'Cause those days are long gone."

She got into bed in a bad mood.

Her skin, so used to silk and satin, had screamed in protest as she yanked on flannel pajamas. The clasp of her "stomach" was pushing into her back, but she knew taking it off could prove a fatal mistake. She rolled onto her side, trying to get comfortable, but Marie Dwyer's hard bed grated on her nerves. Finally, she stilled, seething.

God, Swan! You need to start sleeping with gophers again, she remonstrated herself. When had she become so…so pampered?

She growled softly. A knock sounded at her door. In a flash, she had snatched up the gun in her nightstand, tucked it into her fake belly—out of sight and easily accessible—and reached the door.

"Charlie."

CPOV

He ran a hand through his hair, trying not to let it show how unnerved he was. The girl scared him. She looked a lot like Marie had the last time he'd seen her, but that ramrod-straight back and too-calm eyes gave away the foreignness of the girl in his daughter's room.

He knew how important this was. He was Chief of Police, after all. And when the FBI asks for a favor you don't exactly say, sorry, I'm busy.

He hadn't been told all the details, but what he had been told was that Isabella Swan, an infamous high-profile bodyguard, renowned for her lack of conscience, had been saddled with an FBI agent and sent to Forks for one reason or another. She'd needed a cover, so the FBI had asked him to pretend like she was his daughter (who lived with her mom in Florida).

He'd agreed to this. But it didn't mean he had no qualms about it.

"Can I help you?" she asked quietly, arching an eyebrow. "J—just came to check if everything's…cool." He wondered if he should tell her that the FBI had asked him to keep tabs on her. She laughed softly. "I'd already guessed, Charlie, but thanks for trying to keep my…dignity…intact." He was sure he looked startled. Had she read his mind? "No, I read your eyes," she said in a lilting voice. Another thing that didn't match his daughter. "They're very expressive," she explained, laughing that tinkling, bell-like laugh again. "Um, okay? Well, I guess I'll let you, um, get to sleep, then." He stuttered. God, this woman made him feel like a seventh-grader again!

"You do that."

"Goodnight, Isa—" She sent him a vicious glare, and he broke off, realizing his mistake a split second late. "Goodnight, Marie," he tried again, his face twisting into a grimace as he spat out the name. He hated calling this…this creature Marie. She was not his daughter! She smirked at him. "I'm afraid this habit of wrenching up your face like you've smelt a lemon every time you say my name must stop, Charlie. People will talk! Goodnight."

And with that, she closed the door in his face.

He now understood why some of the FBI guys had been placing bets on how long he would last.

He didn't think it would be much longer.

Please excuse any mistakes, I haven't checked it. So the POV thing goes like this:

Sometimes, I write Bella 2nd person, and sometimes I write in the 1st person. That's why I have BPOV 2nd person written at the top, to distinguish it from BPOV 1st person. Every other POV is in the 1st person.

I can't read your mind (seeing as I'm not a super hot, sparkly vampire, with disheveled bronze hair *sigh* the world is so unfair) so you'll have to review to tell me what you think.

(p.s. if this chapter is confusing, I promise I'll explain everything as well as I can in the next chapter)