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Books » Twilight » Bounty
Skeezon
Author of 3 Stories
Rated: M - English - Drama/Humor - Bella & Edward - Reviews: 1,005 - Updated: 06-07-10 - Published: 02-28-10 - Complete - id:5784035
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And so, a new adventure begins. This is very different from my previous stories, but check it out, you just might like it.

Thanks to Zona, the best BETA in Chucks.

I own a wrecked car and a calendar with March 12th circled...SM owns Twilight.


I sat in my parked car, sipping stale coffee and willing my tired eyes to stay open. I'd been here all night, waiting for her to emerge. My gaze had been glued to that deceptively innocent house with white siding and dark blue shutters for almost fourteen hours now. During the night, I'd watched the lights go on in one room, only to go off moments later. I wondered what she was up to in that house, and with whom. Had she charmed some middle-aged man into taking her in for the night? Had she used her enchanting sweet-talk and feminine wiles to secure a bed to sleep in?

Since the sun had risen, there had been no movement from the house. I was bitter and jealous that she'd gotten any sleep while I sat, festering in the very familiar interior of this car. The neighborhood finally woke and I watched as kids rode their bikes, mothers pushed strollers while spoiled children sucked on their pacifiers and the dutiful husband walked the dog through other people's yards. The mailman came and went, but that front door hadn't budged an inch.

Under normal circumstances, I'd have one of my lackeys do this shit for me. I'd have them tail the target and alert me when she was in their sights. I'd swoop in for the capture and secure my status as "the best" at what I do. Personally, I don't ever spend this much time and effort on a case, but this girl was special. I'd followed her across four states in the past month. Fifteen hundred miles and always one day too late.

She knew I was getting closer now and she was getting frantic. In the beginning, she would hitchhike with truckers or anyone else who would pick her up. Always heading north, so I assumed she was running to Canada. I wasn't sure how she was getting money. My guess was that she'd been relying on the kindness of strangers, but now, she was becoming impulsive and sloppy. She had started stealing cars and snatching purses to survive. It never surprised me how people changed along the way, letting their desperation override any existing morals and values.

I didn't know why there was a bounty on her head and I didn't care. It wasn't part of my job to care. My job was to find her and bring her in. I never wanted to know the target's crime. I always feared that it would influence me and I couldn't afford to invest any emotion. That would be stupid and dangerous for all parties involved.

In all my years of doing this, I'd never let it get personal. I'd receive my assignment and do my job. And I was good at it, too. My reputation in the business was unmatched. I'd never failed to bring in anyone I'd set my sights on. Because I was so good, I had enough money saved to live the rest of my life comfortably. Instead of lounging in my condo, sipping scotch while some random girl goes down on me, I'm here chasing a fucking ghost. This Isabella Swan was to be my last job. I'll be damned if I let some little girl get the best of me.

So, here I sit, amongst the designer vehicles and white picket fences of suburbia, stalking like a black cloud. All I had to do was wait for her to come out, but my patience was wearing thin. I was beginning to resent the very idea of her and it was clear that in the past four weeks she'd crawled beneath my skin, leaving acidic and spiteful bruises. If I didn't get to her soon, I felt like I was going to snap. That's why I keep my gun out of reach when I drove and left it in the car when I ate at fast food restaurants. I was one car honk or missing ketchup packet away from blowing someone's face off.

My only comfort was that I knew how to hold out for the ideal circumstance. I had a plan and was certain that if I stuck to it, this would go down with minimal damage. I needed to get her alone and corner her. It was then, when they had nowhere to run, that you saw the truly primitive side of people. Fight or flight was instinctual and it resided in every human being. They resembled ferocious trapped animals and I always approached these situations mentally prepared for a fight. I assumed that Isabella would be no different.

I'd spoken to dozens of people in the past month that had any interaction with her and she'd left a deep impression on all of them. Most couldn't or wouldn't believe that the innocent, brown-eyed girl could have done anything worthy of arrest and usually that meant they wouldn't help me track her. She seemed to possess a certain sweetness and charm that mortals weren't immune to. I hadn't discovered yet if it was who she really was or an act to aid in her journey towards freedom. It was only when I pulled out monetary persuasion that people caved and offered information on her whereabouts. As much as it disgusted me and made me lose faith in the human race, I heavily relied on people's selfish greed to get what I wanted.

I'll admit now that my obsession with Isabella was completely out of character and unprofessional. She unknowingly had a hold on me that I cursed on a daily basis. The one photo I had of her, now clipped to my visor, was worn and tattered. It showed a beautiful young girl, her eyes void of any ill intentions and full of hope for a promising future. Obviously, it had been taken before whatever incident landed her in this game of cat and mouse. I closed my eyes and sighed, wondering what those eyes looked like now. Would they be hard and full of guilt? Would they guard her secrets or say everything out loud?

Slam.

My eyes shot open just in time to see her skipping down the steps of the front porch and taking off on foot down the sidewalk. My pulse quickened as I exited the car, tucking my pistol in the waistband of my jeans.

I gave her a wide berth as I followed her down the sidewalk and was thrilled that she seemed to be oblivious to my presence. Of course, I'd been trained that it was always best to remain invisible until the opportune moment. My mentor had often said I was a stunning ninja that could charm the panties off of Mother Theresa. I had no idea what that meant, but I'd always taken it as a compliment.

Isabella wore a black hoodie, coupled with jeans and high top Converse. If I hadn't known better, I'd say she looked about seventeen or eighteen years old. Her ponytail swung back and forth as she walked, sometimes flying about wildly when the wind whipped around her. She turned left at the end of the block and ducked into a convenience store. I watched through the front window as she purchased a pack of cigarettes before heading out again.

This time, I stayed in front of her. She retraced her path, heading back towards the house she came from and I knew this was my opportunity. I could barely contain the evil smile that tugged at my lips. I could practically taste victory. It heatedly pooled in my mouth like venom as I paused to strike.

I ducked into an alley and waited for her to come to me. My heartbeat was echoing in my ears, my breathing erratic. As soon as her shadow crossed the alley, I lunged at her, wrapping one arm around her waist and clasping my other hand over her mouth. She kicked and tried to scream and fought me with everything she had, but she was no match for me, high on adrenaline.

I drug her into the shadows of the alley and pressed her against the rough brick there.

"Please don't hurt me. Please," she begged after I removed my hand.

I forced her hands behind her back and pulled out my handcuffs.

"I'm not here to harm you Miss Swan, I'm here to bring you back to Phoenix."

I heard her exhale loudly. She seemed to relax and that confused the hell out of me.

"Finally," she whispered as I clicked the handcuffs closed over her wrists.

I turned her around so that she faced me now and finally looked into the eyes of Isabella Swan. They weren't cold and hard as I had thought they might be. They were warm and relieved and wet with unshed tears.

I patted her down, sliding my hands over her petite form and checking all of her pockets. I took her cigarettes and placed them in my pocket. I padded down her right leg, then her left, finding a switchblade tucked into her tennis shoe. I slid that into my pocket as well and wondered what she'd had to do to get her hands on a knife like that.

Without another word, I escorted her back to my car and placed her in the back seat, being sure to put the child locks on. I slid into the driver's seat and removed my pistol, laying it on the passenger seat.

I pulled out my phone, took a picture of Isabella and sent a text to my employer, Target acquired.

"Four weeks. Four fucking weeks I've been chasing you." I watched her in the rear view mirror as she stared back at me, never wavering in her gaze. "It'll be good to get home again, sleep in my own god damned bed and not have to worry about where your ass is."

"Yeah, well, now that you've got my ass, what are you going to do with it?" She asked with a flirtatious smile. I knew her game and was too sharp to become a pawn in it.

"Don't start that shit. You and I both know how this trip ends, Isabella."

I watched as she huffed and slumped back against the seat, letting her head loll back and her eyes fix on the ceiling. I navigated my way through the city, finally reaching I-5 and heading south. Phoenix was about twenty-three hours from Seattle and I was hoping to make it there in two days. The sooner I can get her back to where she belongs, the sooner I can be done with this bullshit.

My phone beeped with a new message, See you in 2 days.

"Bella," I heard her whisper after almost thirty minutes of silence.

"What?"

"My name is Bella. Isabella was my grandmother."

I nodded and returned my eyes to the road, praying like hell that this drive would be uneventful and over soon.


Well, there it is... let me know what you think. I can take it.
Reviews are better than handcuffs...

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