Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by HollettLA

Offbeat

Chapter Twenty: Bird

Thursday, during our break, I took a trip to the bank and withdrew $1,600 from my account.

Before I could second-guess myself, I handed it over to Jacob—my hopeful new roommate. He needed to deposit it into his own account so his check wouldn't bounce on Saturday.

He saw the ad last week for another kick-ass, affordable, two-bedroom apartment. It's only three measly blocks from the one I'm sharing with Emmett now.

Initially, I hadn't thought of including Bella in the process, but then Whitlock mentioned it . . .

And he was correct.

After all, Bella would be spending a lot of time here.

Especially, and considering, it's two miles closer to her school.

Why not stay with me a few nights a week?

Jacob and Bella are cordial. He hasn't overstepped or checked her out. Not since I told him to back off and that Bella was mine.

There's no reason why she can't stay with me.

She could have her own key and be in bed by the time I get home from work. It wouldn't be how it'd been last semester—disturbing her at midnight, waking her up when she had class the following morning.

Unfortunately, Charlie is still in New York, and I had to act like it was all gravy, cool that he'd tag along, too. He's so fucking nosy, but the old man'll be on his way back to Washington in just two days.

Thank God.

Jasper has been thinking the same as I have.

The chief is a huge cockblock.

I'm pretty sure my girl has gotten over being mad at me. Because I don't want her father meeting my family. She hasn't harped on me, or bitched me out.

We just let it go?

I haven't seen Bella without Charlie this week. Therefore, I don't really know if the subject has been dropped or not.

I've since spoken to my mother, who did shriek at me for handcuffing Carlisle.

Like I did the world some horrible injustice.

Even if he'd spend a night in jail, who fucking cares?

Apparently, my mother.

I just let her talk when we spoke, tired of the same song and dance. I don't need a crystal ball or to be clairvoyant to know what'll happen in a few weeks, maybe a month. At most.

If she doesn't care, why should I?

She swears he's not the same old Carlisle, and for her sake, I do hope she's correct. I won't be betting money on that, but I'll hope for the best while also knowing the inevitable.

Anyway, we were really lucky to get the apartment when we did. The landlord, Joel, had said something about two couples coming to check the place out. But he liked us, which we knew was half-bullshit.

Joel also gave us the keys without waiting for the check to clear. He didn't even run background and credit checks on us. He's either trustworthy, stupid and doesn't give a fuck, or Black spilled the beans—told him we were cops.

Nevertheless, on this hot-as-fuck Monday morning, we were already moving in. Honestly, I didn't have much to pack and transfer. Emmett hauled it all over in one trip with his truck, and my girlfriend wanted to…make a day of it, an outing.

Bella needs to plan everything, or have a plan, and she made sure everything was planned to perfection.

She invited Alice, Whitlock, and Charlie along with us.

I wasn't sure if Jacob was being nice about it all, or nothing bothered him, but he never commented on anything—not when Bella and Alice arranged every piece of furniture, not when they started hanging curtains, and then I caught Bella with a screwdriver changing the toilet seat cover.

Because you never know if it's new or just cleaned.

Personally, I was grateful for their help. Especially since Bella was nesting, making the place more livable for herself. I'd told her to do whatever so she'd be comfortable, but that only implied my bedroom.

My new roommate had to rent a U-Haul for the day. He kept making trips back and forth from his grandfather's place. He had a couch and a TV, and I provided the coffee table, two small bookshelves, and my keyboard stand to fill in the living room.

It was all coming together very quickly.

Neither of us had anything for the kitchen—including things like plates and silverware—but Black and I would be shopping for some on our day off.

We'd started moving and unpacking at 6 a.m., and we had to be at work for 3 p.m. My only intention was to get all my shit from point A to point B today, but with everyone's help we were almost finished.

Whitlock and Alice had taken off with Jacob right after lunch. He had one more trip, and we all needed to get ready for our tour.

Since I'm not my new roommate's keeper, I didn't bother to call him before I left for the precinct.

Bella, Charlie, and I were just leaving our new building when Black rolled up in his car. It seemed he'd gotten rid of the truck, as he grabbed a decent-sized cage from the backseat.

"Uh…" I pointed, dumbly, wondering what was under the sheet.

While it was covered, I could see it was a birdcage.

"Oh, I have a bird." Jacob kicked the back door closed. "Youse wanna ride? Hang out a sec." He ran past us into the hallway.

"A bird?" Bella whispered, furrowing her brow.

I wasn't sure what she was thinking, but…I'm not exactly a pet person.

Are birds considered pets? I wasn't even sure of that.

Jacob pulled the sheet back to reveal a big-ass fucking bird—one that might nip at an eyeball and blind ya.

Christ.

I was taken aback, staring at its yellow, blue, and green feathers, and the one beady eye I could see from this angle.

"Does he bite?" Bella asked.

Jacob shook his head. "His talons can scratch you, but it's not like he can help that—it's not intentional." His gaze flew to me. "His wings are clipped—he can't get too far." He pursed his lips, looking back to his…bird. "At my grandpa's house, we had a bar where he'd hang—he'd never be in a cage." He stuck his finger in there to pet its head. "I promise…I'll only let him loose in my bedroom."

I had nothing to say.

"He a macaw?" Charlie seems to be an expert on wildlife, although this bird looked to belong in a rainforest.

"Yeah…he's a parrot." Jacob shrugged and then tilted his head to the street. "Go 'head. Get in the car and lemme bring him inside."

"What's his name?" Bella smiled, interested by the way she was eyeing that thing now.

"Um…Bird," Jacob said, disappearing down the hall.

"Bird?" Bella laughed.

Black turned to her. "Yeah…I'm not hung up on names."

"Bird…eerp!"

I gasped and jumped back, since the bird fucking spoke.

"He talks, too, can say things, but he's not that noisy. You won't even notice he's here." Jacob chuckled, bringing Bird into the apartment.

"That thing belongs in a fucking zoo," I muttered, massaging my forehead.

Bella rubbed my bicep. "Or…just not in a stuffy apartment." She kept her tone low. "But, he's a pretty bird, seems tame, housebroken." Her brow quirked again.

I remained silent as I opened the back door to Jacob's car, letting Charlie have shotgun.

Why couldn't he have a cat, or even a fucking hamster?

Also, why hadn't he mentioned having a pet?

If that thing even comes at me…I get the idea it's aiming for my eyes, or to claw my face off, I'll shoot it.

Bella giggled, breaking me from my thoughts. "It won't be that bad. The apartment is great…be happy about that." She squeezed my thigh.

I kissed her temple, hoping she was correct.

After dropping Bella and Charlie off, we rode to the station in collective silence. There were many things I wanted to inquire about—mostly about Big Bird—but I didn't. And Jacob took my quietness as some sort of cue.

"I knew you'd nix the moving in together thing…if you knew." He pulled into his parking spot.

I nodded.

"You'll love him once you get to know him. I promise."

"Yeah…" I grabbed my duffle and left his car, still upset by the whole ordeal.

But what was I going to do? Admit to being afraid of the fucking thing?

Hell no.

During roll call, it was announced that Morris—our foot patrolman—was now on short-term disability for whatever reason. I wasn't paying that much attention. Our roles and partnerships were to be the same as they've been the past couple of days.

Emmett, newly trained in sensitivity, would be walking the beat. Jasper, with the most seniority and experience, would man 78-Alpha by his lonesome while Jacob and I were 78-Beta. Basically, we're Whitlock's backup since he'll need it on most calls, making us more like a threesome with Emmett out in the heat.

Bella sent me a text, saying she'd made an early dinner—spaghetti sans meatballs, and that sounded awesome. Sadly, I was hungry but it wasn't time for my break yet. The guys said they'd cover for me, and I had maybe a good twenty minutes before they'd call me back down.

I kept my radio on just in case, and I was nearly finished with my meal when I noticed we were alone.

"Where's your pops?" I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

Bella hummed, twirling her fingers into my damp, sweaty hair. It's hot as fuck out today. "We ran outta beer. He's down at the bar again."

"Isn't it a little early?" I paused in my movements, peeking up at her. "Again…? Twilight Lounge?" This was the first time I'd heard about it.

"They're showing a game on a channel we don't have." She reached for my plate. "Would you like some more? I thought you might dislike it without the meatballs—"

I shook my head. "You know that's my father's hangout." Whether he's living with Esme or not, on or off the wagon, Carlisle makes his way to Twilight—to Hank's—daily.

Her eyes widened. "And I didn't—I never mentioned that because I didn't want it to become an issue. My dad has a few beers and watches whatever game." She waved a hand. "He keeps to himself."

I snorted, knowing that wasn't true.

Charlie tends to strike up conversations with random people. He's not overly talkative to those he doesn't know, but it'd be just my luck…he'd run in to Carlisle.

"How can a city with as many damn people be so small?" I asked no one in particular, even if I already knew the answer.

This is my sector.

My girlfriend also happens to live on it, thus…my world consists of an eight-block radius.

"The Twilight Lounge is within walking distance. He can't get lost, and he can watch his sports crap without hogging the big TV." Bella wouldn't look at me. "Today, we simply don't have the channel they're watching at the bar." Her tone was incredulous, and I knew she was about to answer my rhetorical question…in detail.

However, that's a part of her charm, and I had about ten minutes left of my break since I'd eaten rapidly.

"The fact that you happen to cover the Twilight Lounge, it's on your beat…that's probably coincidence. And this city isn't that small because I've lived here nearly four years, you've been working these streets for almost two years, and we never met before…you know. That whole mess, when you rescued me." She was getting excited, her voice rising.

"I'd like to think we would have gotten together in some capacity—somehow, somewhere within our travels, anyway." Bella was now animated as she spoke, waving my empty plate around. "That it's kismet, fate…we're soul mates, even though this isn't a fairy tale, and you're fairly cynical on a daily basis." Her eyes darted to mine.

Throughout her rant, I wore a smile.

"I'm rambling. Sorry." She turned for the kitchen.

"Don't be sorry." I watched her go, admiring her ass and the sway of her hips.

My girl was right, to an extent, and yet I continued to think about the rest of it. She was correct because we cops essentially just do our jobs. Besides going to school, Bella and Alice are homebodies—no matter how friendly—and they don't cause any trouble.

Meeting them could be attributed to that motherfucker James, and no one wants to thank him. I'm sure Bella would trade me in just to not have had that experience.

Regardless...

Following Bella, I cornered her by the sink. "Bella—"

She whipped to me after placing the dish down, but she also cut me off. Bella kissed me fiercely, wrapping her arms around my neck—the intense lip-lock and embrace I'd been missing this past week.

I groaned into her mouth, my hands spanning her ass while I lifted her—sat her on the sink's ledge and spread her legs wide.

Bella whimpered, slightly pushing me away. "Your belt's all bulky."

My eyes were still closed as I reached to undo it. I didn't want the pouch I have in the center that carries my gloves, my mag-light, my fucking baton, and everything else—to bruise her pussy or thighs.

She stopped my hand, which made me look to her face. "You only have five minutes left."

I raised a brow, smirking and refusing to say what I was thinking.

After a whole week without her—and without jacking it in the shower, I could work with five minutes if Bella cooperated.

I was confident I'd get her off in three and hold on to my load for the whole five.

Bella smiled wide, a twinkle in her eyes. "He'll be gone the day after tomorrow." She kissed me softly, her mouth trailing down to my neck. "I've missed you. I just saw you two hours ago, but I miss you—us—like this." She nibbled on my earlobe.

I pushed into her, seeking…her again, but my belt hit the sink before my cock. "Me too, baby." She had no idea how much I missed just…being us.

The simplicity, the happiness, feeling at ease—Bella does that.

She straightened my tie, her breathing labored. "He's asked a few times now…and I never know what to say." One of her fingers scratched at my shirt; I probably had a stain. "Crusty, dried tomato sauce—came right off."

I leaned my forehead to hers, our noses touched. "I love you." I gave her another gentle, too-short kiss, and then pulled away. Even if I knew exactly what she was talking about, I didn't want to acknowledge it. If it were just my mother, sister, and nieces, I probably wouldn't give a fuck, yet that still remains uncertain. "Text me…I'll come by later or before shift tomorrow."

Bella jumped from the sink to grasp my forearm. "We've been pussyfooting around this subject for nearly a week already. Edward—"

"Bella…?" I widened my eyes, mostly to be an asshole while hoping she'd drop it.

She let go of me. "Charlie has asked you and me—separately and while we're together—about your family, and I haven't said a word to you. I haven't been pestering you, against all my better instincts." She wrang her hands together. "Alice told me I should back off, but I hate listening to her." Bella brought her voice down, but I hadn't seen her cousin, nor inquired about her absence since I arrived. "She doesn't know anything—never had a boyfriend before…not really." Bella scrunched her nose. "Maybe she knows more about men, but I know you." She poked my chest.

I nodded. "I know you haven't stressed the subject. Thank you for that." Between a rock and hard place, between wanting her to drop it and get it all off her chest, I didn't elaborate about Alice or the current discussion.

"This bothers me. I wish you'd deal with—"

"—my issues instead of ignoring them." I finished for her, looking down to my watch. "I gotta go."

"Then, go." She shooed me toward the door with her hand.

I hung my head, knowing there'd be a shitload of animosity if I left now. "If I tell Charlie why…will you drop it?" I asked.

She nodded, studying her toes. "I will." Bella was holding something back, and I just waited for it.

One.

Two…

Three . . .

"You just—you saw them more before we started dating. That's definitely because of Carlisle, and not because of me, right?" She rushed her words.

"Carlisle," I said. "It's him, has nothing to do with you."

Bella nodded. "I know you can't tell because he'd never show it or admit it, but Charlie adores you. I don't think there's anything your father can do that would make mine judge you." She pointed to me, and I knew she was about to talk at me again, which is something I usually don't mind.

But I wished she'd let the shit with my family go.

"Furthermore, your mother—Edward, she's amazing and kind, and I know she misses you. You were their rock, the glue that held your family together for a very long time. With or without Carlisle in the picture, you held your family together."

"Hey, they have Carlisle now. They don't need me." It's not as if Mom and Katie are banging down my door, or nagging me to visit. Carlisle's around and I'm not—I'm out of sight and out of mind.

Bella disagreed. "Edward, you're condemning them!" she nearly shouted.

I was taken aback, staring at her now.

"You're condemning your sister for simply loving her father and your mother for being in love with him—it's just wrong. And if I can look past the crap Kate told you…" She trailed off, inhaling a deep breath.

I placed my finger to her lips. "You shouldn't have to look past anything."

"That's not what—"

"I know," I sighed, replacing my finger with my lips, hoping she'd stop.

"One day, Edward…" she mumbled into my mouth, and I backed away. "One day…" Bella refused to meet my gaze, frowning. "Carlisle might not be around anymore, and I hate to be this blunt…When he dies, that's when you'll realize how stupid all of this is. One day, he's not going to be around, and you'll have all these things you'll wanna tell him, questions that you won't have answers to." Tears filled her eyes. "There will be things you'll wish you'd told him."

I wiped her tears away. "Is this really about Carlisle, or do you miss your mom?" My tone was soft, and I hated that she was sad.

"No," she rasped, clearing her throat. "I mean, I miss my mother every day, but it's gotten easier…My mother and I were close, best friends. I knew she loved me, and she knew I loved her. I don't have any regrets, but you will…If you don't fix things, the guilt might eat at you."

I snorted. "A fuck like Carlisle'll probably live forever."

She didn't think my words funny. "No one lives forever."

"I was…being sarcastic," I explained.

"Oh…I knew that." She folded her arms across her chest. "My point is that he's trying now. Why not let go of the past? Why not enjoy this time together?"

"Carlisle is nothing like Charlie, Bella." I grasped her hand, trying to rein in all my aggravation. "I know it's hard for you to understand—"

"It's not," she said.

I shook my head, knowing she doesn't get it.

Bella let go of my hand, taking a step back, and her demeanor changed.

My eyes riveted to hers. "What's up?"

Her cheeks were red, and she stared at the floor. "You're underestimating my intelligence—"

"Whoa!" I exclaimed.

"I'm not stupid and—"

I yanked her into my arms. "I never said that." I made her look at me, and I searched her eyes. "Look at me."

She stared at my chin, her lip quivering. "Everyone else can think what they think, but you can't."

"Look at me, baby," I whispered, palming her cheeks.

Her gaze slowly met mine.

"I don't give a fuck what other people think. I love you—I love everything about you." I placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You're fucking perfect, wonderful, and—"

A little giggle escaped her, and she became less rigid within my embrace.

"I could go on and on…" I smiled, holding her closer. "And I learned a long time ago…not to underestimate you."

"I misunderstood, I guess." Her hands ran up my shoulders.

I nodded, wanting and needing to explain. "No…You jumped to some conclusion and you need to have more faith in me." For the life of me, I couldn't understand why anyone would think Bella stupid, or how anyone could judge her.

"You're right," she admitted.

I blew out a large breath. "Even if your parents were divorced, and you lived states away from Charlie…Bella, he was still there." I pushed her hair behind her ears. "I didn't mean that you couldn't comprehend, or maybe I did. But it has nothing to do with your…ability to…process whatever." I wasn't sure if my words were coming out correctly. "You're brilliant and I love how smart you are." I kissed her forehead. "But your childhood was nothing like mine. That's all I was trying to say."

She gave me one solemn nod.

"Every time I let him back in here—" I placed her hand on my chest "—he leaves, disappoints, and he's always…taking something else with him. I'd be a masochist if I let that happen again. I swore I wouldn't let him hurt me anymore. It's done. End of story."

"But—"

"No." I was adamant. "Please. No more about Carlisle. That bridge burned a long time ago."

Bella had no rebuttal this time. I knew she wanted to argue, that she might just be disappointed in me. But I just couldn't fucking devote any more time to thinking about Carlisle.

"I love you." A part of me needed to hear her say it back. That despite my faults, all this shit, and if she might be upset with me, she loves me, too…anyway.

"I love you, too." She grabbed my hands.

"Good." With one last, forceful kiss, I turned for the door. "I'll see you later."

"You should stop by the bar," she said, her tone teasing now.

I waved, not bothering to turn around. "You're pushing it."

"I always do, and you love me anyway."

Smiling brightly, I turned right in time to see the door close. "I do!" I hoped she heard me.

"I know!" she hollered.

Feeling lighter, impossibly happier, I left her building, only to deflate when I saw 78-Alpha and Beta parked at the corner. Whitlock, McCarty, and Black were all leaning back against the cars, a mere skip, a short sprint to the Twilight Lounge.

As I got closer, McCarty decided to explain, "Ireland is playing England as we speak—you know, one of those occasions where they try to unite two countries with a fuckin' ball and two nets?" I chuckled at him. Those "friendly" games usually end with bloodshed instead. "I know my pops has a lotta money on this game." He jerked a thumb. "We might as well park here a while," he laughed, grilling Whitlock, who didn't look happy. "Game's almost over, and then…hopefully we can grab dinner before the golden hour."

The game will end by 6 p.m. the latest. We'll try to keep the peace, depending on which team wins, and then they'll either drown their sorrows or celebrate—until around eight or nine, when those who've been drinking all afternoon start dropping like flies.

"Isn't this an Irish bar?" Black asked; I nodded in confirmation. "Then why would anyone who roots for England set foot in there?"

"To start trouble," McCarty sighed, and I agreed with him.

"Bella's pops is in there." I didn't comment about my own father, who'd never miss a game like that.

Whitlock winced. "I know. And he doesn't know how you Micks get—"

"Oi!" McCarty shouted, which made me crack up.

Whitlock had wide, amused eyes, but I saw the distress behind them. "There might be a fucking riot. I can't believe they didn't tell us at roll call. You kiddin' me?" He walked to the bar to stare into the tinted window.

Jasper looked anxious about more than a possible stout-fueled brawl, which Charlie could probably handle.

I bet he sees as many drunks duking it out as he sees bears looking for honey.

What the fuck else is there to do over by him?

I blew out a breath, resting on my laurels a bit—figuring Charlie won't get into any trouble, probably doesn't care about that shit.

"It's soccer but they call it football?" Black raised a brow.

We all gave him a nod.

"Everyone has their favorite players, and the ones they hate," McCarty went on. "Like with any sport. Even if they're all fans of Ireland, one drunk makes a crack about someone else's favorite player…" He made a slicing gesture by his neck.

Whitlock stared at the bar again. "Ali's in there, too."

"What?" I shook my head.

"She wanted to have a beer with her uncle!" he all but shouted at me. "Once I saw that was on the tube, I told Alice she should go home—"

McCarty laughed, placing his hand on Whitlock's chest to interrupt. "He—" Emmett cackled like a hyena "—this motherfucker told her she had to go. Went as far as to 'escort' her out of there, and the Chief—" he rolled his eyes "—your future father-in-law told him to get the fuck off his niece." He placed his arm over Jasper's shoulders. "Now, he's trying to give Alice some space."

Whitlock pinched the bridge of his nose and held it as his eyes trailed up to meet my own. "And, yes…Alice introduced Carlisle to Charlie." He meant as my father.

Slack-jawed, mouth open to say something…nothing came out.

"We're just gonna park here?" Black wasn't sold on the idea. "I get lookin' out for your girl, but we can't all stay here when there's a whole perimeter un'trolled. By all means, if something happens, we'll be back in a flash." He was trying to level with our fellow patrolmen.

And that was the best idea I'd heard all night.

"They never caught that burglar on PCP. Excuse me. Armed-robber, and he hit up another place last night," I added. "We get heavy on the feelers we got out there—hey, maybe we could bring him in tonight. We focus on that."

Jasper stared at me, and he knew my aspirations were crap. There's a fucking city-wide APB out on this guy. The detectives are all over it, looking for him, and if he's not caught soon and continues, the Feds might just be brought in. But no one wants that. If it's happening within our precinct, we wanna bust this guy.

I mean, we can't locate and apprehend some trigger-happy dust-head? It's been five days already. However, with the exception of last night, he'd been laying low.

We know who he is, his identity.

We just don't know where he is, or what his next target might be.

"You want us to stay?" I asked, because I would absolutely stay—no matter my personal qualms with this dive bar—if Jasper wanted me to.

"Black's right," he admitted, glancing over his shoulder before walking over to 78-Alpha.

"I'll…be here, kicking rocks." Emmett gave us the finger as he started pacing.

"McCarty—" Jasper stopped himself from entering the car.

"I'll look out for her." Emmett nodded.

I patted Jacob's back. "Let's go."

From there, we drove around the neighborhood.

Surprisingly, once we got out there, it was kind of like old times. Whitlock, always ready and willing to respond to anything—answered so many calls. Jasper and I had let Jacob take the lead on a few, so he got a couple of collars, but it was nothing major.

What was truly fascinating was…I'd never given much thought to how much time Black and I would be spending together. Once Morris comes back, I'll be with Whitlock again, but until then…I'd be the OIC within our pair.

When they went on break, I finally broke away from my partner—seeking refuge. Eh, they all convened at the Chinese spot below Bella's apartment building, and I stood by the Twilight Lounge with my eyes and ears open.

I heard the disgruntled shouts when the Brits won, but nothing happened. It remained uneventful.

Once Whitlock and McCarty were back on duty, I took off with Black.

We stopped for coffee. Well, I stopped for coffee. I'd previously dropped Black off down the street. He could issue parking citations while I made the pit stop.

Nonetheless, we had police-work to do. Answering calls, just doing our jobs is fine, but why not go the extra distance?

"Where we goin'?" Black asked.

I was steadily driving out of our sector, but my destination wasn't too far off course. "Back when I was first on the job, there was a bust, and 78-Alpha was called in to back up vice." I tilted my head, pulling up to the sidewalk. "The place was clean. Whoever had obviously been tipped off." I shrugged, shutting down the engine. "I never heard any more about it, but this dude still works here…" I left the RMP, and Black followed.

"I bet a detective already hit him up for info, but who knows." I grabbed one of the three mug shots from my pocket. "This guy's slick, although he's not the Slick we're looking for. Everyone knows he slings—or at least gets people into contact with the right people—but we've never been able to get anything to stick. Not me. Personally, I've never had any run-ins with him." I sipped my coffee. "I know who he is from around the way. Now, you will, too." I tossed my cup into the trash before entering the Hispanic food joint.

Just like I knew he would be, Julio was behind the counter but his back was turned.

I knocked on the counter.

Once Julio saw us, he widened his arms, wearing a big smile. "Hey!" He sounded awfully cheery before his lips drew a tight line, walking closer. "What do youse want?" His latter tone was more like it.

I chuckled. "I want some mofungo. What the fuck you think I want?"

Julio sucked his teeth. "Lemme see your badge."

In lieu of his request, I showed him the picture. Holding it up, I said, "I'm not interested in what you do. I'm looking for this guy."

"Whole 'hood's lookin' for him, man." Julio shrugged. "We ain't peoples so I dunno how I can help." He faced his boys.

I nodded, trying to place faces to names as I stared at his friends, too. "All of youse…take a good look. He's someone's customer, but I don't care how or where he gets his shit. Understand?"

No one had anything to say.

"I bet Slick knows better than to hit up your joint. But your fellow small business owners around the area…some haven't been as lucky. He was busy last week and then went off the grid, but I know he's gotta habit to feed. Unfortunately, that cost a bodega clerk his life last night. Now, he's a murderer." I raised a brow, my stance unwavering, my hand still holding the mug shot for all of them to see.

Julio looked to his friends and back to me.

"Trust me. Youse want the heat on him," I said, meeting their gazes, which might not have been the smartest move but a decent one. "Maybe none of youse are holding, but I'm sure a few are on parole—a few, including you, might not appreciate the extra attention." I smiled.

"Look, I ain't seen him in a minute," Julio admitted, and he might be telling the truth. This guy had been in Attica a while before his release. "If I see him, I'll call Whitlock." Jasper's the friendliest cop within the precinct. And he's who I'd learned to do this from.

We may not be able to arrest every law-breaker, but those who aren't affiliated—in a gang or otherwise, those who aren't loyal to each other—give us a lot of feedback. They're not always forthcoming. Like, right now, with all of Julio's friends around, he's reluctant to say something, or he will say just about anything to get me off his ass.

If he was alone, I might have gotten more out of him.

"That's all I was asking. If he comes here looking to party, you call somebody…" I smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate it…I mean, your families live in this neighborhood, too. Why not keep it safe?" If I could clean up the Lower East Side, where I grew up, I'd do that in a heartbeat—no matter my occupation.

Julio nodded, as did a few of his boys.

"Have a good night and be safe." I stepped away, turning only when Julio did, and Black followed me back to the RMP.

Once inside the car, we hauled ass to our sector. God forbid I was wasting time talking to Julio and them, and we could have prevented a crime. Then again, we hadn't been pinged by dispatch within the last twenty minutes.

"Is this thing even on?" Black stared at his radio. "It's quiet—too slow for this time'a day."

I cringed. "You did not just say that."

"What?" He had wide eyes.

I shook my head as I continued to drive around.

"What's the big deal?" he asked.

"You never say it's slow. Just wait…You jinxed us. God knows what we'll be hit with," I grumbled, going back toward the bar to see where Whitlock and McCarty were.

A minute later, we discovered that they were right where we'd left them. Only, McCarty was giving someone a ticket in the avenue while Whitlock and Alice seemed to be having a heated discussion.

With a little less than four hours left in our shift, and Black's words haunting me, I waited for the inevitable calls that were bound to be nightmarish.

I was about to take off again, drive around, when I spotted Charlie leaving the bar.

Quite a few people spilled out with him, adding to those who'd already convened on the sidewalk, and none of them looked very happy. Some faces were painted orange and green while others wore Ireland's flag like a cape.

And all of that had my attention.

To make sure the crowd dispersed peacefully, I parked the car and got out. Of course, Black followed as I peeped Jasper hurrying Alice over to her door, yet he didn't grab Charlie.

So far, the chief seemed to be in good spirits, talking to some random drunk.

These big games always prove to be interesting events, which gets doubly amplified when the Hispanic bar across the street has something going on the same night. Once people leave the bars, they're drunk and disorderly. But with the two kinds of bars on our beat being so diverse, it turns into West Side Story…only on the East Side, and no one's dancing, nor are there any star-crossed lovers.

It turns into a huge angry mob that can't understand each other while bottles and fists get thrown.

Thankfully, nothing like that would happen tonight because Las Burbujas was quiet; meanwhile, the crowd leaving Twilight was not. There was shouting by dismayed fans, cursing English wankers because Ireland lost the game.

I told Black to keep his eyes on the curbs around us, those who'd been drinking and might try to get behind the wheel. Knowing Hank's good about taking keys away, I wasn't too worried about that, but it's still early enough for some to try and get away with it.

With my hand on my gun—to shield it—I walked farther into the small sea of people. Careful not to escalate the situation, I asked the man who was pissing on a picture of the Queen to put his cock away.

"You know who's'a cock?" He slurred his words, taking a step toward me.

"Those Southie Pigs!" McCarty shouted beside me.

"Yeah!" Dude forgot about his dick to raise his arms, getting urine on my boot.

I chuckled without humor.

"Be easy, Ed." Emmett smiled at me, ushering people away from the bar.

I scratched my cheek with my middle finger, coming face-to-face with Charlie. He placed his arm around me, a lot more drunk than I'd originally thought. "Your father sure can drink." He leaned on me.

"If I had a nickel for every time someone told me that…" I tried to remain lighthearted.

"I don't usually drink the hard stuff, but we went shot for shot…and I've been having beers with Carlisle a few nights now." It sounded like they were old friends, however unlikely. "Why didn't you tell me he was your dad?"

"Can you see Whitlock?" I pointed to where his niece was also standing.

Charlie smoothed down his t-shirt, suddenly sober—sort of. "Yes. Yes, I can, Edward. Th-Thank you." He waved and started walking in a zigzag toward Jasper.

I gave the chief a salute, focusing back on the task at hand—getting rid of the crowd that had formed.

My father emerged from the bar, obviously trying to catch Charlie before he took off. He didn't notice me at first, but I was close enough to hear him. "You and your sweet daughter come to my house for supper tomorrow night."

"You got it!" Bella's pops hollered back.

Refusing to think about that, I kept my mind on what I was doing—trying to watch many people at the same time—when my father stared right at me.

At first, I thought he'd try to be my buddy, like he has been.

But he didn't say anything or acknowledge me, quickly disappearing back into the pub—his haven.

The game had ended; however, it wasn't last call just yet—not by a long shot. Maybe Charlie couldn't hang, had to go home and sleep it off, but the bar still held a lot of people.

When everything quieted down a bit, the drunks went home or back into Twilight, it was okay for us to leave. If anything happened, dispatch would let us know.

Maybe I'd jumped the gun, being too hard on Jacob. The rest of our tour wasn't the hell I'd expected.

With only twenty minutes until we had to go back to the station house, we just drove around.

Just like I try not to bring the job home with me, I tried to keep personal matters out of my job—not think about any of it.

When Bella's name flashed on my phone, I almost ignored her call. "Yeah…?"

"My father is plastered, Alice keeps puking," she giggled. "Maybe coming by after work isn't such a good idea…?"

"No, I'm-uh, exhausted," I lied, and it might have been the first lie I'd ever told Bella. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry. "You don't sound okay."

Her inquiry made me feel like I was about to explode. "I'm perfect."

She hummed. "Now...you just sound angry."

"Nope. I'm fine...long night."

"You can talk to me..." She waited for something, for me to spill. Finally, after a few beats of silence, she sighed. "I love you, Edward, and I'll miss you tonight."

I nodded, wanting to get off the phone.

"I...um, I love you," Bella said.

I winced, just now recalling that she'd said that before. "I love you, too, baby. Goodnight." I ended the call.

"You know…" Black started. "You can talk to Bella all night—every shift. Just let me drive." He's been aching to get behind the wheel.

Since I was about to burst at the seams, I pulled over to leave the car. "Drive us back to the house. No funny business."

Black caught the keys before dancing toward the driver's side.

Two things happened at once just then. We heard a loud pop, which was only—just slightly—masked by our back windshield shattering. Instinctively, I'd dropped to the ground, drawing my gun, and trying my best to get behind the passenger's side door.

When another shot was fired, it became abundantly clear we were the target. I grabbed my radio to make the distress call. "10-13. Shots fired. 96th and Lex."

I'd barely heard their reply while I tried to assess shit—figure out where they were firing from. By the sound, it was an automatic, maybe a 9mm.

By now, it was dark. There were barely any people on this street, and it all happened so fast.

I was crawling around to the front of the car while I heard sirens in the distance. A third and fourth shot rang through the air—a bullet cracking someone's tail light, which was a whopping six inches from my head.

I dove, doing a belly crawl to Black.

Still, it'd only been less than a minute, but I hadn't heard a peep from him.

That's because Jacob was half-hiding underneath the RMP with his hands covering his head.

"Get the fuck outta there!" I pulled him out. "Where is it coming from?"

Black opened and closed his mouth.

I placed my hand on his cheek. "You're fine. Okay? I need you to focus." Chancing a glance, I tried to use the rearview mirror to see the windows of the apartment building we were in front of.

It was too dark, the lights of other police vehicles bouncing off of it.

"Shit."

"Second floor, I think." Jacob was shaking. "I was wal-walking over, and in the corner of my eye, I saw movement. Second floor, second window."

I nodded, my heart nearly beating out of my chest. "Okay—"

When a fifth shot took out our front windshield, I poked my head out, and Black was correct. There was movement in a second-story window, but I didn't have a clear shot to fire back.

That was when people started running, screaming out of the building. Whoever had been shooting at us had probably fled the scene. At least, I sort of hoped they had, just a bit…because I couldn't be a sitting duck while others were at risk.

The street was now being surrounded by other police officers and our bosses.

Keeping low, I got to my feet and pulled Black up alongside me.

McCarty had met up with us, using the car parked in front of us as cover. "Was he hit?"

"No," I said, turning to Jacob. "Get the tape outta the trunk and seal off the perimeter."

He nodded but didn't move.

"Black, he's gone. You can do this." We had to start talking to people, figuring out who the fuck it was and where they were. There was no time for Black to go into shock or be in shock, although being shot at is shocking. I sympathized, but I wished he'd file it away for later.

"I got it," McCarty informed me, and then handed Black the signature tape.

I blew out a breath, standing taller, staring up and aiming to the window.

"Someone's playing sniper?" Whitlock wore a smirk. "You and McCarty take the front, and I'll head around back." Then he spoke into his radio to others who were near us but not within hearing range. Two officers flanked Jasper, running behind the building, as McCarty and I advanced to the entrance.

"Don't let any of these people leave," I told Jacob, but others were already on that task.

He wouldn't let me go, holding my forearm tightly. "I can't move." His eyes trailed down, and mine followed his to see he'd pissed his pants.

"It's dark. No one'll see, or stay in the car." I shrugged him off of me, quickly continuing into the building.

There were still people trailing out, and one totally fucking distraught girl caught my attention. She was panicking, looked worse off than Jacob, and McCarty noticed it, too.

"He's up there. He's crazy." She stumbled, and I caught her. "He's in my bathroom, gonna kill himself."

"Which apartment?" I asked.

"2E," she sobbed. "I don't know him. I swear. I was having a small party while my parents are—"

"Just get outside." McCarty gave her a steady nudge to further her along while I whispered the new information into the radio. Whitlock confirmed that he'd heard me, and was already on the second floor.

Soon, we were able to see Jasper at the opposite end of the hall.

I pointed to the apartment.

Jasper and those with him entered while McCarty and I stood back. We'd noticed a window in the hallway, one that led to the roof of the store we were on top of and other windows.

Specifically, we could see into 2E's bathroom.

Careful not to make a sound, McCarty and I walked out on the roof, keeping our backs against the wall. We had Slick within our sights, watching while he paced, and listening as Jasper introduced himself.

The door was closed.

We couldn't see Whitlock, but PCP dude didn't have a gun within his grasp.

He threatened to kill himself if they didn't leave, which made me smile.

Dead or alive, we were gonna take this guy—preferably before he shot one of us—but Jasper felt the need to talk him down.

Whitlock's tone was soothing, calm, and I almost felt the need to surrender. Slick insisted there was no use helping him, he'd killed that clerk, and his life was over. He also expressed his hatred for law enforcement; Slick thought we were there for him, which was why he'd shot up our RMP.

Meanwhile, if he hadn't...Black and I would have headed back to the precinct none the wiser.

Jasper argued with Slick, kept emphasizing that he'd made a mistake. This wasn't the end for him; Jasper would do everything he could to help, and blah, blah, blah. However, Jasper's bullshit words weren't working on this guy. He only became more agitated as the seconds ticked by, and then Slick grabbed that gun again.

Only, he wasn't placing it to his head.

He had it aimed at the door.

McCarty dropped down to his knees, angling his piece to get a clear shot.

"We're coming in at the count of three, and you put your weapon down!" Jasper shouted.

"No!" Slick yelled, cocking the slide back to load his gun.

Emmett took the shot, breaking the window and getting Slick in the shoulder. All of which only held his attention for a few seconds before he started firing back…at the door, at the window…bullets were flying in a few directions, and I ran forward.

Just a few feet away, I managed to tackle the motherfucker. That might not have been the smartest move—since I clocked my head on the damn toilet—but Slick dropped his nine.

At the same time, I heard McCarty hollering to high heaven so I wouldn't get hit with friendly fire.

My fight-or-flight response must have kicked in because I managed to wrangle him and handcuff him without thinking too much about it.

After lying, saying I was perfectly fine, I went back to the station house instead of getting my head checked. I knew I was all right, but I had a nice-sized lump and a small headache, and there was no way I was getting out of filing my reports.

This was big, and yet…I didn't feel proud of myself.

In a lot of ways, I saw myself as stupid, having acted like such a cowboy.

Still, when I entered the locker room to change into my street clothes, I noticed it was only going on one a.m. Only ten minutes had passed between the first shot fired and arresting that douche, but everything else...

I just couldn't believe all of that had transpired within two measly hours.

Emmett used his weapon. I was shot at and subsequently apprehended our precinct's most wanted asshole of the week. So, we both got the day off tomorrow—today, whatever.

Regardless of written reports, I knew we'd have to relive and go over the entire ordeal when we came back on Wednesday. 1PP needs to make sure everything was legit, which it was…

I just couldn't believe I'd taken such a dumb risk.

McCarty's whistle made me look up. "Cullen's the big-shot now." He started to undress, Jasper trailing in after him. "Had to keep all the glory for yourself, huh?" he laughed. "It's not enough I shot the guy. No one cares about what I did. You're the hero." He was having a good time, teasing me, and I gave him a placating smile.

"You okay?" Whitlock punched my bicep.

I chuckled, mostly at myself. "I'll let you know when my asshole un-puckers."

Jasper and Emmett laughed their asses off, and then I peeped Jacob leaving the shower, wearing a towel. "Hey…" he said.

The room quieted down, and I had no idea what to say either. I felt horrible for him, nor did I see myself as this hero because I'd been scared.

Was I scared?

I…I had no idea.

Half confused, unable to think clearly, and half cocked on this anger I have toward Carlisle, I'd done something very careless.

"The first time someone shot at me," Jasper touched his chest, "I ran." He shrugged and started laughing. "I screamed for someone to call 9-1-1."

"You didn't." Emmett was about to piss himself this time, laughing so hard.

"Oh…I did," Whitlock confirmed. "Yo, someone fucking shot you. That is shocking. Especially the first time." He patted Jacob's back. "This one's a fucking jarhead—ain't scared of dick." He jerked a thumb to Emmett. "And Cullen…?" He narrowed his eyes at me.

Again, I wasn't proud and dropped my gaze.

"We'd seen some shit together, but he grew up in the ghetto—the projects," he told the truth. "Gang wars and all that. Gunfire might be like a soft lullaby to him." Whitlock rested his cheek to my head, having fun teasing me as well.

Ready to leave, I got to my feet. "You did good," I spoke to Jacob.

After all, no one needed to tell him what he'd done wrong.

He already knew, and I didn't know what to say that might make him feel better.

Vasquez shook my hand before I left.

Rosalie called me a moron, and I agreed with her.

I went toward the bus stop, but decided against it—not ready to go back to my new home, where it'd feel empty. My gut led me to Bella's apartment, but I didn't want to disturb her. The incident happened quite a few blocks away, so she probably hadn't heard anything. I sent her a short text, telling her I was all right and on my way home. Just in case she woke up and saw it on the news, she'd know I was okay.

Something still didn't feel right, though, and it had nothing to do with what just happened.

Well, it sort of did.

I found myself going straight for the Twilight Lounge, so much angrier than I'd been earlier.

Tonight—right before the man leaves New York—I'm finding out about how Charlie's been Hank's best customer? Suddenly chummy with my pops? Bella just happened to bring all that shit up again? Alice had to introduce them? They're all having dinner tomorrow?

Coincidental? I think not.

I'd bet money Charlie was introduced to Carlisle days ago.

I didn't know what was going on with that shit, but I was livid.

I didn't know who I was angry with, or maybe I was pissed at the lot of them, feeling as though they'd kept everything from me.

Alice, for not minding her business.

Bella, for not respecting my wishes.

Carlisle, for…

Who the fuck was he to invite them to dinner? Charlie's gotta see the projects—of Alphabet City—on his New York City tour, too, the place where I grew up? The halls that stink of urine and the dealers on every corner?

I'm trying to gain this guy's respect, his trust. Not have him start trouble for me, thinking Bella isn't safe, wanting to haul her back to Washington. He'll try to persuade her, tell her she could do a whole lot better, which is the absolute truth.

He can't take her.

For once in my life, I had someone in my corner, someone who I loved, adored, and cherished, and the thought of losing her…it was scarier than five Slicks with automatic weapons, scarier than tackling ten armed perps.

If push came to shove and he really wanted to meet my family, and I mean really, I would have agreed to what Bella had suggested—all of us getting together at her place.

Sans Carlisle.

Arriving at Twilight, I noticed it was practically empty. Hank stood with his back to me, drying glasses. The lone drunk at the bar was nodding out. The lights were dim; it smelled like stale beer and cigarettes, and the floor was as sticky as ever.

Despite the statewide ordinance, Carlisle stood stout-in-hand and toward the back smoking a cigarette with a few of his buddies. They were laughing, talking about some bullshit.

Their faces were very happy.

This time, when his eyes landed on me, I threw my fist out to bop him on the chin.

My feelings had shifted a bit.

He wasn't home, sleeping.

He more than likely knew about the shooting, and he just didn't care.

No…

My old man was too far gone to know what'd, or who'd hit him. He staggered back and fell to the filthy floor. I'd put all the aggression I'd had into that punch, which was oh-so gratifying. It felt amazing, but Hank accosted me before I could do it again.

"Get out!" Hank pointed to the door.

I firmly intended to follow his instructions, waiting a few seconds longer to see if Carlisle would notice me now.

But he was passed out, out cold.

"He dead?" I asked.

Hank bent low while two other dudes helped to get my father up. "No…put him in the back," he instructed, turning to face me. "He'll sleep it off . . . I better call your ma."

"No," I said. "Just let her know he's here—safe, sound, and sleeping it off." A shuddering breath escaped me. "Like the million other times...She's not to waste money on a cab coming all the way up here."

"Did that feel good?" he asked.

I didn't answer him.

As I left the bar, I hoped neither would remember their plans for the next day.

Then, I headed toward my new home.

Thank you for reading.

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