Chapter One

"Hello, Sam."

The tall, dark man spun around to confront the voice of his guilt. Icy fear slithered down his spine as his one-time friend stepped from the shadows.

"Edward Cullen, wh—what are you doing in Prague?" Sam sputtered as he took a step back.

"I think we can dispense with the pretense, Sam. We lost a crew of good men, yet here you stand." Cullen's eyes hardened to stone as he cocked his head. "Interesting."

Sam took another step back and bumped into the hard chest of one of Cullen's goons who patted him down, removed the gun tucked in his belt.

"I think we need to get reacquainted, Sam. From what I understand, you've been busy making new friends." Cullen threw his arm over the shoulder of his former trusted soldier and continued. "Well now, any friend of yours will surely be a friend of mine."

Sam winced as Cullen squeezed his shoulder. The large shadow fell in behind his boss and the traitor as the procession made their way to the Fiat Scudo waiting at the end of the street.

As the van maneuvered the narrow streets of Prague, Cullen watched the street lights flicker over this stranger sitting across from him.

Carlisle had sent Sam Uley and a team of four to Prague to heist diamonds for a London dealer with the promise of a significant cut; both the loot and the team had disappeared. Carlisle sent Cullen with two men to get answers and retribution.

As Cullen watched sweat roll down the temple of his nervous prey, he knew Sam was the key.

~o0o~

In the early morning haze, no one noticed the petite brunette lingering in front of the St. John of Nepomuk monument on the Charles Bridge. Isa looked longingly at the loving guard resting his hand on the head of a faithful dog. She reached out to touch the polished gold dog, feeling the kinship with the pup before lifting her finger to reverently touch the face of the man standing in the place of protective love.

She sighed deeply and moved to the resting place of the fallen saint. She touched his garment and whispered the same prayerful wish like so many mornings before. "That I might have place—family—again." she breathed as she dropped her hand and stepped away.

Late to work, Isa scurried through the staff locker room, avoiding eye contact with the floor manager as she made her way to her post at the reception desk of Hotel Bishop's House. She had been hired two years ago because of the recommendation from her former boss and her fluency in both Czech and English.

It gave her the work visa that would allow her to stay in the city she loved, but she felt the daily resentment of the other staff toward the foreigner who occupied the coveted position.

~o0o~

Edward sat on a bench below the Charles Bridge as the sky lightened behind the shops flanking the bridge.

It had been a long night.

In an abandoned building on the outskirts of Prague, Edward had watched Jared and Paul tag team Sam Uley.

As the birds began to chatter in the tree over his bench, Edward leaned his elbows on his knees and ran his slender fingers through his hair.

Friends since middle school, Edward had seen Sam safely into the organization, had vouched for him.

He sighed as he reached into his pocket, uploaded the picture of proof, and forced his hand to cease its trembling.

"Ah, fuck, Sam," he murmured and closed his eyes as memories of the night rolled over him.

After one more punch to the gut, Sam vomited down the front of his torn and bloody shirt, and Cullen motioned for the men to step back.

"No more—let me talk—fuck—Edward—just let me talk!" Sam wheezed and gagged.

Cullen sat and leaned his elbows on his knees bringing his mouth close to the sobbing man's ear.

"Talk."

Sam jumped at his nearness and began taking deep breaths to find his courage.

In broken speech interrupted by retching, Sam told how Felix had contacted him and had offered him money and position on his crew to let the deal go down Felix's way. What were a few diamonds? Carlisle was never going to let him advance beyond where he was in the organization. Here, he had thought he'd be as big as Edward. He swore he had no idea Felix would execute the men.

Cullen had stood and paced as Sam spewed forth his own demise. He stopped mid-step as Sam stopped speaking.

"One remains, Edward—Seth." Sam's hope for redemption flickered and died as Cullen pulled his Walther p22 and rested it against his thigh.

Seth was the youngest of the group. The diamond heist had been his first big job after making his bones. Cullen had questioned it, but Carlisle had said the boy had to learn sometime. Now it was clear to Cullen why Sam had picked Seth. He would be too green to see what was coming—the poor bastard.

"Where is he?"

"Pankrac," Sam said.

"Prison?!"

Sam flinched at Cullen's fury. "Felix needed a fall guy to distract the police."

Cullen's hand tightened on the grip and nodded grimly. "We're done here, Sam."

Sam slumped with fatigue and resignation.

Cullen stepped toward him. "Who am I, Sam Uley?"

Sam sat up straighter and looked into his eyes. "You're The Gun, Edward."

"For your crimes against the oaths you made to the Cullen Organization, is this action justified?" Cullen asked as he checked the silencer and released the safety.

Sam swallowed thickly and rasped, "Yes."

Cullen lifted the extended barrel to Sam's head. "Go with God, Samuel Uley."

Edward shook his head against the memory and attached a text to the picture before hitting send.

Done-small rabbit snared

He deleted the message and returned his phone to his pocket. He stood rubbing his face with his hands as he began walking across the bridge to Hotel Bishop's House. Edward fought to keep his eyes straight forward as he ran the gauntlet under the watchful eyes of the saints, but at The Lamentation of the Christ, he looked into the face of a sorrowful Mary Magdalene.

Who would cry for him when his time came? He had no women who would grieve for him—no mother, no sister, no friend, no lover.

He touched Mary Magdalene's hem. "Pray for me, a sinner, Maggie," he whispered. He dropped his burner phone and gun through the railing to the water below. With a sniff, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and blended into the current of people flowing past the holy witnesses.

~o0o~

With sunbeams slanting through the glass doors, Isa took her first sip of coffee in the quiet stillness of the early morning lobby.

She looked up as the front doors slid open, and froze with her cup midway to her mouth as broad shoulders and mussed auburn hair sauntered in with keen, emerald eyes darting to all exits.

This man looks trained to manage trouble, she thought and lowered her coffee to the counter. As he approached, she noticed black ink peeking out from the collar and cuffs of his black cashmere coat.

"Dobré den, pane, jak vám mohu pomoci?" (Good morning, sir, how may I assist you?)

Sharp, discerning eyes locked on her, and her breath caught.

He rested his hands flat on the desk as he leaned in. "Do I have any messages—zprávy? " he asked with a rich, smoky voice.

"American?"

He gave her a short nod. "You?"

"No, expat-Canadian," she said.

"How long you been here?"

She cocked her head to determine if he really wanted her life story and he lifted one eyebrow expectantly.

She gave him a shy smile. "About four years. Prague is a beautiful city."

"It is at that," he said with a glance out the window.

While he was distracted, she studied the black ink decorating his hands. There was a spider web over a knuckle and a die with five dots on his left hand with barbed wire running a piercing circuit around his right wrist.

She pulled herself away from his art and blushed at the amused twinkle in his hawk-like eyes.

She gave a little shrug, "Your work is pretty," she said as she fiddled with the mouse of her computer.

"That's not pretty. That's hard living."

Her gaze shot up to a cold stare and she swallowed thickly before nodding. "I stand corrected," she murmured as she typed on her keyboard.

His hand ran along hers stilling her movement. "Forgive me; I'm travel weary. I'm glad you like my ink. Most women get the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea?" she asked quietly.

He pulled his hand back to his side of the desk. "Yeah, they think it would be fun to flirt with the devil, to ride a bad boy."

"Oh." She peeked through her eyelashes to see him grinning at her discomfort.

She straightened. "What name and room number, sir?"

"Black, Jacob Black, room 17."

"Sedmnáct," she murmured as she typed. "No messages, but this was delivered," she said holding up an envelope. "Will you be joining us for breakfast?" she asked as she motioned to the buffet on the far side of the lobby.

"No, but thank you, miss …"

"Isa, Isabella," she said and felt her neck heat as he took the sealed envelope while his fingers trailed over her hand.

"Well, Isa," he said with a wolfish grin, "I hope your day is as sweet as you've already made mine."

She smiled shyly, "Thank you, Mr. Black."

With a wistful grin, he rapped the counter with his knuckles and made his way to the lift. Waiting for the doors to close, he willed her to look up, to turn her attention back to him. As the doors closed, she caught his eye and smiled. This little beauty was nothing more than a warm, curvy distraction. He rubbed his stinging eyes. Sleep—he needed sleep not a little bombshell with haunting, dark doe eyes.

A vibration had him pull his next phone from his pocket. He read the text and laid his head back against the wall of the lift.

Cut off the branch.

Affirmative he texted back and deleted the messages as the door to the lift opened to his floor.

~o0o~

His phone dancing on his nightstand had him flinging back bedclothes and reaching to silence it.

Men love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil, he thought as he rubbed his face in the dark room.

With a groan, Edward threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He rubbed his thumb over the St Dismas pendant on his bracelet as he asked for wisdom and strength for the day. He had stopped confessing years ago—no use rehashing what time had set in stone.

Running his hands through his thick, russet hair, he stood and straightened, causing his back to crack.

"Fuckin' hell," he moaned.

He stretched his arms over his head as he walked toward the bathroom and felt each protest of his tight muscles. As he stepped under the hot spray, his groan echoed off the tiled walls.

~o0o~

Not willing to risk being seen, Cullen slipped out the employees' entrance which spilled out onto a back alley. Dressed in black, he blended into the shadows of the night. His message from Aro weighed heavily in his pocket as he maneuvered through back streets to the rendezvous.

Delighted to know such an esteemed guest is visiting our fair city—AS

What was that old man playing at? Two Balkan organizations fought for dominance over Prague. The Cullens didn't have a beef with Aro Šarić or his family, but Marcus Drašković and his son, Felix, were another matter. Carlisle's text marked Felix as a dead man walking—a declaration of war against the Drašković family.

He rounded the corner of the wall that divided the old and new parts of the city and saw his men leaning against the van.

The men straightened as he approached.

"Job done?" he asked.

Paul spoke up first. "Clean and thorough, sir."

"Good. We have new orders. Let's get out of this wind."

~o0o~

Jared drove through the darkened back streets of old Prague as Cullen and Paul ran through the plan again, checking their weapons and supplies as they spoke. Sam had given him all he knew of Felix Drašković and Cullen had found the window of opportunity he needed to get the jump on his enemy.

"We have one chance at surprise. Does anyone have any questions?" Cullen asked as he clicked the safety on his Berretta M9A3 before sliding it into its holster.

"No sir, we're ready to issue some payback," Paul said as he sheathed his knife in his boot.

Jared parked behind a wall of overgrown bushes, and Cullen's voice broke the silence.

"Tonight, we send the message to Marcus Drašković. No one disrespects our house."

"Fuckin' A!" Paul said as Jared gave him a high five and nodded.

Cullen led the men behind the building. Jared stepped forward to pick the locks, and the soldiers followed their boss through the door.

The group moved past the cavernous room of the Drašković chop-shop.

At Cullen's signal, Jared and Paul moved in opposite directions to cover him. A movement on the staircase along the wall caught Cullen's eye. He reached the top of the stairs as the door to an office slammed shut. He busted through the door in time to see Felix slam a safe door and dive behind a massive desk.

Cullen felt a searing heat rip through his left arm before he registered hearing the gunfire. Furious, Cullen charged and shot Felix, hitting him in the right shoulder.

As Felix's gun clattered to the floor, Cullen dragged him from behind the desk and roared, "ON YOUR KNEES!"

Felix growled as he dropped to his knees. "You're not getting out of here alive, Zbraň. (Gun) This building will be swarming with the Drašković any minute now," Felix spat with a twisted laugh.

"Well you'll lead the way, motherfucker," Cullen said as he placed the gun to Felix's head and pulled the trigger.

Cullen patted him down and pocketed his knife and gun as the floor below erupted with the noise of gunfire and men's shouts.

Noticing the safe door was cracked, he opened it to find a satchel with the stolen diamonds and a keyring of flash drives. He grabbed it and slipped downstairs. Silence and the bodies of Drašković men greeted him at the bottom of the stairs. Jared and Paul had done a good job.

He rounded the wall to find Viktor Dobransky waiting with his gun leveled at Cullen's chest and the bodies of Paul and Jared lying at his feet.

"Welcome back, Zbraň."