Training the Swan
Chapter One – The Trainer
It was another boring day in Forks, and of course, it was fucking raining. I was living in the lap of luxury, in a large three-story home on the outskirts of the tiny town. I was only twenty-eight years old and I'd managed to retire already.
How, you ask? Easy, I trained the hit men and thugs of one of the biggest crime bosses in Seattle.
Charlie fucking Swan.
Eight years earlier, I had stumbled across the asshole, outside of a restaurant. It'd been an accident, because I sure as shit didn't mean to drop the man on his ass. However, his bodyguards hadn't seen it that way and were on me in a split second.
Who knew that the Swan had a heart? Though, since then, I found that it was usually shriveled up and black as coal, but nevertheless, he stopped his men from killing me. That was how it all started. I charmed my way into his way of life. At first, I just ran errands and delivered "packages."
Eventually, after working out with Emmett, Charlie's right hand man, I managed to move up to a "collector." I didn't enjoy that aspect of the job; beating the shit out of others, but I got paid well. Then again, most of them were fucking assholes that deserved their fates.
That led to the how I could afford to retire, then there was the why. I was tired—exhausted, really. Plus, I deserved to wallow in my self-fucking-loathing. It happened while I was on duty for Charlie. I had accidently killed someone, a damn innocent. It had been enough for me to say that I couldn't handle it anymore.
Charlie had understood and let me walk away, but with one condition. I still had to train his men. Emmett usually handled training, but since I'd been able to take him down during sparring sessions nine times out of ten, I'd been given the job.
The good thing was that I still got paid well, and there was also the advantage that I was no longer doing the dirty work, at least not directly. New thugs were few and far between. I hadn't seen a newbie in over three months, and I was fine with that. I enjoyed living alone and didn't like the chitchat that came along with the assholes that Charlie sent my way.
Take Mike Newton, for instance. How could anyone believe that he was capable of hurting anyone? He'd come into my gym looking like a little lost puppy, with a fucking round face and a beer gut. But no, his dad ran shipments and Charlie had wanted him fit and able to cock a gun as if his life depended on it. The kid had looked like he could barely handle stroking his own cock, much less a gun.
But fuck it, for three months I'd trained the fucker and not even his mother had recognized him. He'd gone from the round face and beer gut to slim and strong with a six pack. I'd even made him cut the mop of his hair. He'd wanted to keep it long, but fuck, it just kept flopping over his eyes. So I'd given him a buzz cut in his sleep.
Well, after I'd knocked him out cold for giving me lip. Fucker. I hadn't seen his ass for three months and I hadn't heard from Charlie, either. Did I dare say that I actually missed the asshole? Nah…
I tried to concentrate on my workout, barely recognizing the man in the mirror across from me. I still looked the same, annoying ass copper and shit-colored hair that never cooperated, and perpetual scowl, dark slashes for eyebrows. A lean but muscular body riddled with old wounds, an old bullet wound in my right shoulder, a thin six inch scar between my fifth and sixth rib on my left side, the four cigarette burns near my navel from a fucking rival named Davis that I later stuffed into the trunk of my car – dead. It was the only time I took pleasure in someone's demise. He deserved it since the asshole had tortured me for hours. It was my eyes that weren't the same; the color was similar but seemed hollow, empty.
I needed to stop watching Dr. Phil.
My phone started ringing while I was on the fifth repetition on my weights. I cursed at it from across the room. Reluctantly, I put my arm weights down and jogged to the phone. "Hello?" I answered.
"Edward, guess who?" a cold voice asked. Yeah, like I needed to guess, considering he was the only one allowed to call me.
"I've got one for you." he grunted. I grumbled under my breath, hoping it wasn't another fucking rookie like Mike.
"I'm listening," I said.
"It's my daughter."
The boss man said what? The man had no kids. He'd always said that he didn't want any, because he knew his enemies would come after them.
"This doesn't get repeated to anyone," Charlie demanded. "No one knows who she really is. This is between you, me and her. You're going to treat this one like Rosalie. You got me?"
Rosalie used to be the girlfriend of the infamous Royce King. He'd been beating her almost daily and she'd wanted out. She had asked for help three years ago in exchange for information. Charlie couldn't say no, since King had been leading in shipments along the harbor. He needed the asshole's operations to come to a stop.
We'd helped train her to fight back. Emmett had the largest hand in helping her. The following week, once we deemed her ready, Royce was dead from a fall out of a window after she'd beaten the crap out of him. The police called it self-defense, since she'd been sporting a black eye and bruises around her neck. Emmett had her by his side ever since.
"Charlie. What the fuck? I don't do women," I answered back, sort of glad that the conversation wasn't taking place face to face.
"Yes, we're all still questioning your sexual orientation, but now is not the time. Listen to me, you little prick. Her mother is Renee, and I know you've heard that story. I fucking saved her from the Dwyer Family when I was in Florida. I had no fucking clue when I put her up in hiding in Phoenix that she was pregnant with my child. If I had known –"
He was hurt. If he had known, he would have done anything to make sure that she had everything her heart desired and more. Renee was the love of his life, but since he was the leader of his operations, there was no way that she could stay with him. If the Dwyers' would've found her, she'd be dead.
"Fine, but what the fuck is her story?"
"First of all, you little shit, you watch it around my girls. You got that," Charlie said in that, 'don't give me shit or I'll kill you' tone. "Her story is that she married a fucking asshole named James Adler. He's got money, looks and a wicked right hook. She came in with her five year old daughter with a fucking black eye, bloody lip and bruises covering every inch of skin I could see. She's recovering right now, but I'm sending them both to you in a week. Prepare yourself."
I sighed. A mother and a kid would be living in my house for God-knew-how long. Not good. And I didn't have a choice. "I'll be ready."
"And one more thing. If you touch my daughter, and you know what I mean, Cullen, I'll kill you." Then, the bastard hung up. Fuck my life.
It'd been a week since Charlie's first call. I had gone from bored half to death and had nothing to do but ready my home for guests. Charlie had mentioned that his daughter loved to cook, so I'd gone to Port Angeles and stocked up my kitchen with all the gadgets a cook could need. Then I'd gone and prepared two rooms on the second floor.
There was one for the little girl, not that I knew what the fuck to get her, but thankfully, Rosalie had helped by ordering everything online. All I had to do was pick the stuff up and put it together. As for the other bedroom, I'd had no idea what to do there. I'd just used my favorite colors; dark blue as the accent, with matching comforter and pillows.
I was waiting impatiently in my living room, tapping a pen on my thigh while willing the time to go faster. From what they'd told me, the woman was in serious trouble; not only had the guy beaten her, but she'd also managed to get their daughter away, too. From what Charlie had said the few times he had called since, it sounded like that James would do anything to get what belonged to him. She had managed to stay in hiding on her own for almost six months, but he'd caught up to her. After barely getting away from him a second time, she'd come to her father. Charlie had been her last hope.
Twenty minutes later, I heard the familiar roar of Emmett's jeep pulling into the driveway. I took a deep breath, ready to greet them. When I opened my front door, a little girl with big brown curls bounced up the steps of my porch and took hold of my leg.
"Are you the one that's going to keep the monster away?" she whispered, looking at me with light brown eyes and a toothy grin. She stepped back, blushing when I smiled down at her.
"Elizabeth!" a woman chimed after her. I looked up to see the face that belonged to the sexy voice. Cursing under my breath, my heart pounded in my chest and my poor celibate dick hardened.
Fuck, I was so fucking dead.
AN: Chapters 1-11 were betaed by kyla713, 12-50 by harleys01. Thank you for your help and encouragement to finish this story.