A/N: Hello again. Almost there; the end to this madness. I'll tell you when exactly.

Here are the highlights so far: Jenks and Bella are in this odd partnership. Bella is still skeptical, but trying it out. She figured out her way to have a seat in the Cullen business ... using Edward's authority to do it. He was pisssssed. She made it up to him when she paid him a little visit at his penthouse. That went ... well. She didn't find the ledgers, but she sure as hell found out who killed her Mother. Memories are coming back in a rush, and Sue had news about her shop.

Just a bit more tension geared toward the end.

Love you for coming back. Thank you. More soon.

Chapter 13 – Paper Bag

"All that time and you couldn't get off his dick long enough to look?" Jenks yells. Jenks is pissed.

I shift, pressing my thighs together unnoticeably. The ache there, I feel all of him still.

"Fuck you," I spit.

"No, thank you. I think we both know you've done enough of that!"

"Hey! I'm not at your service here, okay? You want proof, why don't you fucking seduce him yourself?"

He glares.

I wave a hand, bring it to my lips. "I can't. I … I'm not strong enough. I can't do this." My throat clogs up. I try to hold back the tears. There's no way I'm telling him what I dreamed—remembered? Who knows what that was?

Jenks sighs. He weaves his fingers together and combs over his head in a frustrated sweep.

"Bella…"

I motion him to stop. "I'm not a fucking FED, all right?"

His head hangs low, hands on hips. "I apologize."

"You're damn right, you should."

He looks like he's about to have a coronary, so I throw him a bone. "Look, I'll give you one thing. It seems they have many people manage their … income. I might be able to get in contact with one, very fine, very wealthy broker who might know a thing or two. But I have no clue what's involved. I just overheard."

Riley's father is ruthless, just like his son was. I don't believe he'll give anything away, but anything to get Jenks out of my hair. I need time.

Jenks gives me a side eye, skeptical. I shrug like take it or leave it. He snatches his hat off the deli table and walks to the back door by the dumpsters. He turns, ready to say something smart but doesn't. He walks out.

I sigh.

My heels clack back to Sue's shop down the street. A better outfit to please her today. But my stomach drops in an instant.

Edward's car is parked up front.

Fuck. I have no peace.

I take inventory of what's in my hands; the uneaten salad I bought for lunch. I dump it in a trash bin as I pass.

When I get to the car, I look inside; a guard sits behind the wheel, waiting. Edward must be inside. The bell chimes on the door above me, and he turns and looks serious. Sue is herself, but she's not showering him with compliments. She's a little wide-eyed.

"Ready to go?" he asks.

"I'm not exactly done here." I let my hands fall at my sides.

He's annoyed when nothing's at his pace. He comes close and asks with grit, "You haven't told her, have you?" I'm caught. I don't respond. "Do it now," he orders.

He walks outside.

Claire watches from her desk. She blinks like she hasn't for hours, rapt with all the tension. She looks away. Yet, this time, she isn't full of disdain but shows a tinge of fear.

Then I wonder what he said when he came in here.

Sue is pulling on a client's sleeve. The shop has a few people milling about as she gets a fitting done.

I clear my throat, pull at my hair uncomfortably. "Um, Sue. Could I possibly have a few minutes?"

She tugs harder on the fabric.

"Honey, I get it. He has wonderful opportunities and offices all over the city. You can learn and excel. Go on, Mr. Cullen is waiting," she says, but she doesn't look at me. I purse my lips and nod.

"I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. I'll … continue our work as freelance. I want to see this through."

She looks at me. "I don't think you'd have time for two jobs, honey. It seems like he'll take up all of it. This will be a new career challenge for you." Her hand cups my chin. "It's all right. This is your chance."

My chance to fuck this up, or take them all down. She's right one way or the other.

She lets go and sighs. "I knew this was temporary. I guess you've spoiled me, that's all. I need smart, hardworking people around me, something I never knew I lacked here. This is good. I'll be making changes to my life just like you." I glance at Claire from over her shoulder.

I hold back a laugh. Sue rolls her eyes and chuckles.

"You'll do great," I say.

"So will you." She nods once.

"But you're angry with me," I point.

She shakes her head, her hands moving as she works. Tugging here or there on the model. "No. Just … worried for you, like any mother would be." She says this with a glance outside the windows. She turns to me. "Just be careful. Use your gut instinct and go with it. I'll always be here to fall back on." She smiles.

I kiss her cheek hard and grab my stuff.

"Don't forget the package you received this morning," she reminds as she presses a few pins between her lips.

I wedge the bulky envelope under my arm and kiss her again. "I love you," I say. Her demeanor changes. She smiles, warmly. The fabric in her hands drops, and she hugs me tightly. I have never said those words to her out loud.

"Dinner this week? Yes, your father included." She bops my nose with a finger.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Perfect!"

I roll my eyes and hear her chuckles all the way to the door.

"What the hell did you say to her?" I ask when the door to the SUV shuts behind me. Edward is reading a newspaper.

My next protest dies at my lips when I notice him. Glasses sit over his nose to help him read the newsprint.

I lean in. The frames are dark rimmed. He looks …

"Glasses? To read? Since when?"

"I just inquired about you, nothing else," he answers, ignoring my question.

I pull off the glasses. His eyes turn to ice with his glare, and he lets the newspaper sag. I place them on my nose and look at him, a slightly-magnified, angry Edward through the lenses.

I slowly give them back.

He snatches them away to slide them on. "First things first," he says, flipping a page. "I'd care for you to be punctual, respectful, and professional." He starts to lecture. A new hire orientation?

I sit back and straighten my spine. "Yes, sir." I utter softly.

He cuts his chilly eyes to me. I feel the weight, so I look over. "That wasn't sarcasm," I clarify.

He flicks the newspaper in his hands and continues to browse and rattle his discourse. "Respect at all times is vital. No games, no flirting, no giving me smart looks …"

"Flirting?" I scoff, jumping in.

"And definitely none of that smart mouth," he points out. "There are consequences just like with any other employee."

I'm watching the streets go by out my window when I feel him pull me.

"I will hurt you, Bella," he enunciates by my ear. "Understood?"

My eyes widen, watching his dark ones through his Clark Kent glasses. I yank my elbow away. "Understood," I mirror.

His lips catch mine without warning. "Good." He brings his thumb to my lips to dampen the tip and turns a page on the newspaper.

"Lunch?" he asks.

"I already ate," I lie. My stomach twists on cue.

"Watch me eat then."

We sit at a deli downtown, and I'm surprised he chose this place and not a restaurant he owns. The back table cleared out before we walked in; others don't seem to notice they have a cruel mobster in their midst. I guess we blend in with other patrons in work clothes stopping in for lunch.

He sits, jacket off, sleeves rolled up to elbows as he bites into a sandwich. I do watch him eat.

My damn stomach growling. I sip on coffee.

"Whatare we doing today, boss?" I lean on knuckles.

He rubs a few fingers to rid perfectly toasted buttery bread crumbs. I watch them land on the brown paper wrap. I drum my fingers on the tabletop close by, holding myself back from dabbing at them and licking my fingers clean.

"We? You mean you," he says after swallowing a mouth full. His tongue makes an appearance with a swipe. I watch that.

"Okay. So what, then?"

He shakes his head slightly. "Always so eager." He takes a bite.

I observe him. The memory of me getting in his car in the middle of the night for the first time to see what he reallydoes, filters back.

"Yes, I remember," I say.

"Do you?"

"The woman in charge of that building we went to. The one you used to sleep with." I jab with a smirk.

He pauses in the middle of chewing. He thinks. Then he continues with a hum, remembering.

"Older women." He mutters.

I chuckle. I was right. The bastard was sleeping with her. I was definitely the domestic, naive girlfriend.

"Was I just your backup, your … constant?" I ask. "What was I?"

"You called yourself my girlfriend, so I went with that."

I laugh incredulously. "You mother fucker."

"They came at me. Let's make that clear."

I roll my eyes. I'm bothered, but I don't show it. I watch the customers. The girl behind the register ringing people up. The middle-aged man who passes by and pats her shoulder. She smiles at him. I'm guessing it's her father; their nose the same shape, though it looks best on her delicate profile as she looks back. A jar sits by the register with tape around it. 'College fund' written on it, and folks drop bills into it. I catch her glancing over once in a while, hopeful, as the jar fills. It'll likely fill up to the rim by the time lunch ends. She's happy.

Edward starts on the second half of his delicious sandwich. He points an index toward the counter. "Monthly tax collection. Go. I'll wait here."

I'm confused. I raise my brows at him. "What?"

"Go ask the man behind the counter for the collection."

I do a double take. "You mean they give up money? To you?" I point a thumb.

He gives me an annoyed look.

"How do you think we run business in this town? It's always been done. No questions asked. Go and do what I've asked."

My heart speeds. I look over at the girl behind the register. My stomach is lead.

"Wait, wait," I pause. "You mean to tell me you guys have always done this? Monthly? Since when? How many establishments?"

He doesn't respond.

"You do this yourself?" I push.

He tilts his head. "You actually think I personally make these rounds? Don't be ridiculous, Bella. I have better things to do. I have employees who do this. One of them being you—right now. Stand and go do what I've said."

I'm frozen in place.

"This is what you did in high school," I deadpan. "Your first job. You'd hurt them if they didn't pay up." This explains all the scabs and marks he always had on him. He'd lift his shirt in class to wipe his face, and I'd get a peek at all the ominous marks on his skin.

He takes a bite of his sandwich. I suddenly feel nauseated. I watch the family up front as they go about their hard-working day, completely oblivious; trying to make a living.

"I'll take you back to Sue's," he says with a wipe of his mouth on a napkin.

I give him a look.

"When was the last … pickup?" I ask.

"Last week."

My eyes widen. "You're asking two payments from them … in one month?"

He sighs. "Bella, either get your ass in the car or do what I've asked. Don't waste my time."

This is his introduction into his … mess. A test. My loyalty, his validation.

I tremble. I feel angry, sick, devastated.

He throws his napkin on the table and begins to stand. I beat him to it as I rattle the chair under me.

I walk up to the counter, surpassing all the people in line.

"Get your father," I tell the girl. She's taken aback. She hesitates. I point. "Your dad. Get him." She flinches at the sharpness.

The man is bewildered, but there's a familiar dread in his eyes. "What can I do for Mr. Cullen? Soup to go with his lunch? We have refreshments."

I sigh. I look over my shoulder. Edward is nonchalantly popping the last bite into his mouth.

"Collection," is all I say.

He pales. "Forgive me, maybe you're mistaken. A young man came in just last week. He counted every bill."

"You're saying Mr. Cullen is mistaken?" I ask. He goes red. "Shall I have him come over and clear up the confusion?"

He lifts his palms. "No, no. No need to. Uh …" He fumbles. He scratches his balding head, looks around. He quickly takes the jar and pulls out the bills.

The girl sucks in a breath. She takes a step. He pushes her back with an arm. He raises his voice at her to go to the back and get more supplies. She swallows up all the protest and keeps silent. But she doesn't leave until she gives me a look that could kill, and I respect her all the more. I keep my face straight and stare her down even though I die inside.

He dips from the cash register as well and stuffs it all in a paper bag.

He hands it over.

"Next in line, please?" he says, dismissing me. He's angry. As he should be. The crowd barely notices our transaction with the orders being shouted and the noise in the deli. But I'm shaken. I know exactly what this was; an invasion, terrorism.

I turn to the table, and it's empty. I head out the door expecting him to already be in the car.

I throw the bag on his lap and sit back.

"Your chump change," I say.

He gives it back. "Your reward for a job well done." I don't touch it, but he does touch me; my cheek. A feathered graze. Edward is soft.

"Easy," he murmurs. I take a deep breath so I won't kill him. "And just for the record, you took up all my time back then. When we were together, we were together. Don't insult me." He says about older women.

I let that sink in, just like my hand against the cushion between us. He holds on, fingers woven through mine, the entire car ride.

He makes me collect all afternoon. Paper bags pile up on the floorboards by my heels. My heart among them as I remember the shock of every face when I asked.

I remember every face.

….

The piles of tape and envelope paper are on my bed. The package sent to Sue's shop was for me today, and I know what it is.

Today was a long day. My heart is heavy. I didn't speak to Edward after the first collection in that deli. I'd hop out of the car as he waited and I'd walk into a shop, a bodega or gas station; All under the thumb of the Cullen family. Don't even try having a business without making it the business of the Cullen men.

He dropped me off at home by dinner time, no further comments or orders from him. I couldn't look at his face.

It's silly to have thought the things he does aren't horrible. That's the job; to intimidate, to gain power. Mom's warnings and arguments about this weighs on me now.

Deep regret.

The phone in my hand is new, straight out of the package. Jasper said he would send it to me to contact them if I ever have questions. Well, I do.

All questions, and all from a very vivid dream.

I recognize the first saved contact. Edward's guard. I won't be making that call. The second has to be the one.

One ring. Two. The line is alive.

"We need to talk," I say. He's quiet on the other end. "I'll come to you, but either way it'll be tonight."

"No," he says calmly. "I'll come to you." He hangs up.

My nerves are spiked. I pull on some shoes and walk out of my apartment. I won't have him come into my place.

I watch pedestrians walk about, and I'm numb. The sun is setting, and my heart feels the same. Just dimming with life.

A limo pulls up and stops in the middle of the street as a dark tinted window rolls down. I see a masculine hand emerge from shadows, beckoning me to come with a few fingers.

I hop in.

The air is full of tension and expensive cologne. He keeps quiet after directing the driver to just drive.

The limo is long. He sits on the side, a glass of liquor in his hand, wrist resting on the shiny mahogany mini bar beside him. His watch glimmers under the crisp white cuff of his shirt, the link there is onyx, surrounded by diamonds that glimmer, too.

I end up at the end; the throne to this luxury. I look around. A monitor in mute broadcasts foreign news; the stock exchange as a ticker at the bottom of the screen moves. A hoisted tablet by my chair. It's dark, and I wonder if this is where he does his work.

He crosses a leg over the other, and he swishes an ice cube in his mouth until it seems to dissolve. He gazes out the window, his tongue sweeping over his teeth. He finally looks over, skeptically observing me; head to toe.

"You never planned on telling me anything," I say.

He sucks his teeth. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"That's been the front, hasn't it? All these years. But I remembered. I … don't know what I did remember," I say with a pause. "But it's clear that the dream had a lot of you in it."

"I cannot imagine you evoked me just to get interpretations of dreams. I suggest you get to the point, Isabella," he says.

"You killed your father. You had no choice."

Jasper's stare is blank. He lets his eyes close as he averts mine. He finds an interest outside.

"This is when you tell me everything," I push, leaving room for his response. He doesn't budge.

"Why did you keep it from everyone?" I ask.

"Not Emmett," he finally says. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

"And now me," I add with a nod. He confessed it. I watch the streets go by just as he does and we're in this sinking silence.

"Don't make me beg," I utter.

"What do you want to know?" He suddenly remarks. "That I'm ashamed of my father? That I had an inclination, from the beginning, about a younger brother coming into the family suspiciously. Yet, there he was, taking up an old crib, eating at our dinner table; a part of us. I was a fool to let that oddity slip, so was my mother for allowing it. All because no one could ever question my father." He trails away.

"So, Emmett knows about his ... family."

"He was his little helper," he begins to say. "He did all the hushed jobs we didn't know about. The victimized, brooding boy feeling like the outsider, made to feel important, useful.

"He was Major's connection to the McCarthy family. Anything he needed. And that family watched their own from afar, being raised by the enemy. The times they begged to get him back. His mother …" He looks forlorn, sighing. "She was a beauty. Of course, my mother figured who she was after learning about a death during labor; town gossip. What else would she have done when she made the connection? She kept it quiet and took in the infant," he says. "She told Emmett. She couldn't live with herself."

"Hushed jobs like sending people after me?" I confirm.

He takes a drink and swallows. "Just like those."

My heart pounds. Of course, Emmett would be the one to plan hits against me. I can hardly believe it. I don't know what to think, really.

"Why my mother? Why not just me?"

He quirks his neck.

"The intent was always you. That, I knew. But your mother …," he says in wonder. "She was the fierce protector of her cub." He chuckles once. "Always so brave, but unpredictable." He looks to me.

He raises a brow. "Major didn't like it. I tried my hardest to avert his eye away from Renee. Boy, did I try. I couldn't possibly do that to her and her child, but I was outnumbered.

"We kept it from Edward. We would all have a target on our backs if he knew. All for a silly girl … with a mind so sharp, opinionated, and so poisoned. Really, we feared you more than our nephew. You were the tendons to his neck; turning his head this way or that. We couldn't have that. Major couldn't have that.

"That was the plan. And I stopped that plan," he finishes.

I watch him intently. He swirls his glass with liquid, mind elsewhere.

"You came too late," I add.

"And not a day goes by I don't regret," he says right back.

My eyes blur. My throat constricts. "What the hell took you so long?"

He shakes his head. "God only knows. I had just learned about Emmett when Major told you. You, with a gun pointed at him in his chair. I thought you'd pull the trigger. I hoped you would.

"I was furious. It was hell on wheels to find Emmett and confirm it, or kill him myself. I don't know what I would have done if I'd found him." He pauses, swallows the bitter taste of the contents of his glass and his story. "I drove back the moment I realized my impulsive mistake."

I let the tears fall. "I watched her die," I say angrily.

"I did too," he gives me a pointed look. His laments were loud in my memories, pouring over her. "Two offspring watching their respective parent bleed out, only you didn't have to kill yours," he adds.

"Maybe I did," I utter at my hands on my lap. All my bad choices put her through that.

He scoffs. "Don't be ridiculous. The culprit was a terrible, old man with an authority complex. I've lived with my decision because I don't regret it. You should have no misgivings; you fought hard to the end."

I peek up at him from under my lashes. He said that with grit. Years have taught him to be at peace.

"How did your brothers and Edward take it then?"

He pours himself a few more fingers tall of liquor. The new ice cubes clink sharply as he tosses them in.

"Not well. Edward was worst off, but I figured he just mourned you, not entirely his grandfather."

Like sparks, details come back in memory. Edward's act as a crazy man derived from losing me, not his grandfather. The robe he wore was just a convenient detail.

I blink away remnant tears. "What did you tell them?"

He breathes deeply, not wanting to reply. I let the weight of silence settle right in for the long haul. I'll wait.

"I put my father back in his chair in our living room, declared the driver the paid assassin, and prayed it would all make sense."

I'm speechless. All of that to cover the truth.

"Why all the lies?" I finally conjure up the nerve to ask.

His stare sticks. Audacity in his expression. Ridiculous question.

"You did it for her," I say. "You planned to do it anyway, the day he set eyes on her."

He remains silent.

I sigh. I guess it was inevitable. Mom's days were counted. No matter what I would have done, they would've killed her anyway. He knew. He spared me because I was lucky enough to lose the memory of it all.

"We all did our part," he says as if he can hear my thoughts. "You avenged her long ago, I did also." He spears me with his words. "So, whatever you're looking for, planning, slithering your way in; forget it. Take the freedom you've acquired, and move on with your life. It's what she would've liked," he says of Mom.

I sniff up a cry and dry my tears with my thumbs. No more from this moment on. I'm done. "If you ever loved her, you'd know that's a lie. She'd tell me to fight like hell, just like she did."

"What I do know, Isabella, is your course. And you've been through this path before. Question is, do you want it to end the same? I won't be there to save you this time. Especially not your loving stepmother and father."

My stomach knots. I glare at him, his insinuation.

He nods. Takes another long drink until the very last drop. He places the glass on mahogany, taps a few knuckles against the privacy barrier so the driver can hear, and leans toward me.

"It would be a shame to ruin her career, the shop's expansion…" he tsks. "Everything she has worked hard for.

"I could tell her, one phone call away, that her signatures actually gave up all revenues to the Cullen family. And If I wanted, I could sell off her brand to the highest bidder. I knew you'd come eventually. It was easy to charm her with an offer I knew she sought for so long. One step ahead of you, sweetheart.

"And if you think that's terrible, just wait and see what I'd do to my old pal Charlie." He waves a wrist toward me. "It's up to you. History can repeat itself."

The car door opens, and I'm dragged out by my collar. I don't get the chance to react. I kick my legs as I try to find my bearings. Night has fallen, but under the dim street lights above, I recognize him. He never was a fan of mine. I know this now.

Emmett sees me eye to eye, but only because he dangles me off the ground.

Jenks just stands there watching.

…