Hihi…Again.

For those who don't know, this is my official third story that I'm writing…Yeah, I don't really have much to say, sorry.

Disclaim: I obviously do not own Twilight

Summary: An onslaught horrifies the lives of Seattle, as one person per week seem to be violently murdered. FBI agents Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen are thrown into the case together, is there something that can push these two opposites together? AH

Chapter one

I can't believe I got roped into this…

Standing in front of the body length mirror I can't help but feel utterly stupid and self conscious of myself wearing the atrocious outfit the manager's making me wear. I'm supposed to be a detective! A detective damnit! Detectives are supposed to be a super cool Sherlock Holmes person who can find and put away any slug they find! Not wearing a tiny outfit and are about to go dance on a pole!

I guess I shouldn't complain, considering that I begged for this case. Who wouldn't? It's the biggest case that's happened in the city of Seattle for the past six years. So far this mass murderer has massacred five people, and tonight, the sixth. Or at least, that's what I'm trying to prevent from happening.

My hands went to the bottom of the non-existing skirt, trying my best to pull it down as much I can without actually letting my ass flop out of the back. I sighed, I can't believe I'm actually doing this. At the time I thought this was the best idea, dancing on a stage couldn't be that hard right? I didn't seem to realize that that would mean I'm wearing six inch stilettos and a fantasy cop uniform that could barely be counted as underwear! If I were smart enough, I would have just dressed up as a man and pretended to be a part of the audience.

"And now for your pleasure and our featuring act! Constable Jane Harder!" The manager introduced.

I sighed, better get out there and do this, though I couldn't help but feel disgusted at the stage name he gave me. Walking onto the stage, I made double sure that I wouldn't fall or trip over a step I didn't realize was there or even a speck of dust that is capable of making me trip while still making myself look like a professional exotic dancer. Walking straight up to the pole I twirled around on it, while scanning the room for any possible suspects.

For all I know, they all could. The FBI have no idea what the suspect could look like, or even any trace of anything. He's been randomly killing around the city, though in a pattern. Like he's making a trail for us to follow him, a sickening thrill that seems to drive this guy on adrenalin. Other than that pattern it's been simple. Boy, girl, boy, girl, boy, and tonight, I want to stop him from letting him take the life of one of the show girls.

So far none of them stood out. I needed to get a better look. I took a big intake of air before releasing myself from the pole and stood near the edge of the stage, doing the infamous dip that I remember Jessica teaching me one day she begged me to go clubbing with her…I get the goose bumps just thinking of those hazardous moves. Surprisingly, I did the dip AND managed to do the pop while going back up.

All the men whistled or yelled out inappropriate words. That's when I noticed the new comer.

The most handsome man I've ever seen walked through the heavy steel doors, wearing a business suit with the five front buttons undone showing off his amazingly toned chest, and I could see them well from the other side of the club! His bronze hair styled up in the only way described as sex hair, his eyes searching the room for what's most likely a group of friends. Though he went and sat down at a table in the back, by himself.

I don't know why, but I got the whip that the manager said came with the outfit and lashed it out, the rubber sending a loud crack through the air, managing to grab the attention of the sun kissed haired man sitting in the back. I could feel his eyes burning into my back as I slowly bent my legs, swaying my butt along with the appropriate music; the only thing keeping me up right is the pole that I have a death grip on.

Once again, I scanned the room. The man in the back still eyeing me, though so was every eye in the club. I couldn't even pin point the possible suspect. Every other case I'd normally get a good sense of the characters' that I meet, though in this one, everyone is a suspect, no one could be trusted.

Money was being thrown at me in every direction. I didn't find any interest in the paper though, I became fixated on the audience, my eyes still occasionally getting stuck on the red head in the back. I didn't think it was possible to be so…attractive. I guess I'm wrong. I pray to god that the man isn't the murderer. Not the beautiful angel. Why not the obnoxious brunette in the front?

Just as the music stopped, I bowed and headed off the stage, earning a standing ovation from most of the men in the bar. Walking off the stage, I passed the next girl going out; I wished her a good luck. No one but the manager knows that I'm an FBI agent and the next suspicion is here, in this club. It would not only scare these girls, but it would also spread and the club will lose business, but also the murderer would hide and leave the bar before I could even have a chance to find him.

The manager, Elliot, grinned, "Hey kid! You did great for business! If you ever want to quit your job down at the bureau, I'd be honored to have you!"

I smiled politely, "Sorry, Elliot, but I doubt I'm leaving the bureau anytime soon."

He huffed before handing me a metal tray, "Here, you can wait tables; you'll get a better look at the faces. Just, make sure if you arrest anyone, that you don't do it inside the bar. I don't want to lose any business."

"Sure." I nodded; I could never understand the mind of a club owner. A murderer could be drinking amongst the men he allows in every night, yet he doesn't think about the lives of those and his employees', no, he thinks about his pay check and business. Typical.

Walking around the curtain and slowly down the stairs, watching my feet as I walked down the five steps. Once I got to the floor I went over to the bar, grabbing the drinks that the men ordered to serve them. The bartender, Kate, was nice. She pointed out to me the table that each drink was to go to and the man, wishing me good luck after sending me on my way.

Serving the men, I made sure to keep a metal picture of each face while they looked down my shirt. After serving the last of the drinks, I only had one left, and it went to the drop dead gorgeous man in the back. I walked over to him, his intense green eyes stared at me every step of the way.

I smiled, "Hi sir, here is your drink." I handed him his beer.

"Thank you." He smiled politely back.

"No problem." I replied, getting his metal picture, though it would be hard to forget the face.

As I turned around to go grab the new serving of drinks the man grabbed hold of my elbow, I almost turned around and slapped him, though I heard that this came with the job…"Yes?" I asked.

His expression turned serious, "I was wondering if you wouldn't happen to notice anything suspicious around the club tonight?"

I shook my head, damn, this is probably the killer, "Sorry sir, business around here is the same as any."

The man frowned, "Thank you for answering."

"May I ask why you asked?"

He shook his head, "Sorry, classified details."

"Sorry for asking." Damn! He is the killer. Of course he is. He nodded and let go of my arm, letting me turn and walk away. I went back to the bar and asked for the phone, Kate pointing to the back room.

"Yeah, it's on the wall in the back." She replied.

"Thank you." I said, putting the tray down and walking into the back room, looking over to the red head one last time before vanishing into the room. As far as I could tell, it was sound proof, which made it heaven for my ears. I saw the phone instantly and called for back-up, they told me they'd be there in less than five minutes, so I had to keep watch on the culprit and make sure he doesn't try to make a leave.

Great.

This couldn't be any more perfect. It was obvious as soon as he said 'classified details' that he's the killer. Leering in the victim –in this case, me- by making them seem like he's in the law enforcement, making it seem like they'd be safe, when in reality, they're walking into the arms of the hunter. I didn't know what sort of motive that sick man could think, but it's sickening. How could someone kill so mercilessly?

Walking back out of the small room, I took one last glance at my charge, only to have my heart suddenly pound and sunk. He's gone. No! Where could he have gone?! I just went into the room for not even a minute and he's gone! I'm so going to be fried for this!

I rushed over to the bar, "Hay Kate! Do you know where that man that sat over there has gone?" I pointed at the table he once occupied.

She nodded, "Yeah, he's just left, he's pretty cut- Hey! Where are you going?"

"I've just got to go ask him something!" I yelled over my shoulder, rushing to the door.

"Get his number for me!" She yelled. I rolled my eyes, yeah, doubt I'm gonna do that anytime soon.

Rushing out of the club, I saw him, following someone down the alley. I got my gun out of my holder, the only reason I agreed to dress up in this atrocious outfit is that I can wear the gun hoister without making it look too obvious. I turned the safety off and started to creep down the alley, making sure that I don't trip or slip over any puddles of water on the concrete or any rock that might be big enough to trip on, which for me, is anything that's seeable.

My feet sped up, I now only ten feet away from the god-like murderer. Just as I was about a few steps away to tackle him, with my luck, I slipped. I didn't fall, it just made a loud noise that echoed through the whole alley and made my present for both the murderer and the pray to notice.

"Run!" I yelled to the victim, before using all my weight and tackled the suspect to the ground, pinning him down. I heard the person's footsteps run out of the alley until they were out of sight. I didn't notice how strong the man was until he threw me to the ground and now pinned me down. His expression murderous.

"Why did you do that?!" He yelled. I didn't answer his question; I just mustered all of my energy into pushing his off of me. It didn't really work so well. His legs straddled mine, his feet pinning down my knees so I couldn't move them, his hands on either of mine above my head, his chest crushing mine. The perfect pin down, why didn't I do that?! Even though it's an entirely unrelated situation, my cheeks still blushed at the fact that I'm basically in my underwear and a god-like –murderer- is pinning me to the ground.

I stayed pinned under the man who is quit potentially the murderer that I am assigned to capture until the back-up came.

"Over here!" I yelled, though confused why the man hasn't killed me, nor shut me up for the whole few minutes I stayed pinned under him. The back-up run over to us, their guns in hand, Jeremy Reynolds, my boss, running with them.

The man hopped off of me, though gripped my arm and pulled me up with him, "Sir, this dancer let the suspect get away." He said, pushing me forward.

"I didn't let anyone get away! You're the suspect!" I yelled at him, ripping my arm from his grasp.

"Hey, hey, hey! Calm yourselves, now, what happened?" Reynolds asked, as if the man behind me isn't the suspect.

"I went around reviewing the customers, and found him." I pointed my thumb at the red-head.

"Hey!" He yelled.

"That's enough! Cullen! You tell me what happened?" Jeremy ordered.

How did he know who this man is? "I got there and sat in the back, watching for any suspects, until I saw a man looking at me weirdly and left the bar. I went after him only to have my cover blown by the dancer!"

I opened my mouth to yell at him, but Reynolds cut me off, "She's not a dancer."

His expression became confused, "But she-"

"Was doing everything she could to do her job. Isabella Swan, meet Edward Cullen, you're new partner on this assignment." Reynolds filled in.

"What?!"