Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight!
"Ow! Watch where you're going, jerk!" I screeched.
Some retard stepped on my foot with their big honking shoes. He turned around, seeming surprised.
"Oh, sorry." He muttered, flatly, ignoring me. I clenched my teeth together to keep from verbally bashing him.
My therapist would call this "unhealthy behaviour" I rolled my eyes at the hyperbole.
Instead of stalking up behind him to give him a wedgie or something, I turned on my heel and stormed in the other direction. New York City subways were not only convenient, they were also dirty and crowded—and for some reason I didn't want to know, it always smelled like pee.
The only reason I used the subway was because my office was all the way downtown, and my apartment was at the opposite side of the city. Cab fares were too expensive, and I would need to catch it twice a day. The subway was my only choice, as I didn't drive anymore. Who would want to in the gridlock traffic?
That was another plus to travelling on the Subway—it was quick. But then you had days when people would stand on you, trample over you, push you out of the way—just because I wasn't a big person, they felt they could nudge me off to the side. Like the guy who just stood on my foot.
He was tall, really tall, and he wore a grey jacket with jeans—his hair was a peculiar shade of bronze.
But, his most prominent feature was his eyes. Beautiful and deadly with their golden tone. But that's exactly why I hated him even more, he was good looking, and he seemed to know it—heck he was smug about it. That just made him look like he had his head even further up his own ass.
I took a deep breath, pulled my long coat around my body and sat down next to a young man wearing a suit. Grand Central Station was a mecca for regular commuters. The shiny, polished floors and gold ticket booths made it look pretty classy. But the trains themselves—blech.
My Dad—Charlie—had reminded me before I moved here, never to touch the subway poles or the hand railings, they were teaming with bacteria. I rolled my eyes at him then, but as I stared at the people I would be riding with, I dug out my woollen gloves and pulled them on. An old red headed woman with five kids sat down next to me. I inched away...not liking the possibility of being puked on by one of her trolls.
I averted my attention, trying not to stare at them with a disgusted expression painted on my face. My eyes landed on a small group of three men.
They were all relatively young, and they were all wearing suits and sunglasses. Men in Black much? I couldn't help but stare. The shortest one, the one that was closest to me started muttering in a foreign language. " Temos que fazer a batida esta noite!" He hissed to his friends.
"O que aconteceu com a troca de Jacob?" the other one asked in a voice that suggested he was trying for reason. The name caught me off guard. Jacob? As in, my boss, Jacob? No, of course not. I told myself. There were bound to be tonnes of people with that name around here. I shouldn't be worried. One started whispering in English.
I found myself leaning closer to hear what they were saying. "Listen," he began, his voice thick with a Portuguese accent.
"Mr. Black said we do it tonight, the exchange cannot go forward until after we have done our job." My eyes popped out of their sockets. My boss, Jacob Black, couldn't be involved in mob business, could he?
I quickly looked away when they broke apart, fanning out in other directions.
What could they mean by 'job'? And, if they were talking about the Jacob Black I knew—and worked for—what could he possibly have to do with it? I mulled silently over this as I lined up to cram into the subway cart. There weren't as many people this trip, a lot better than this morning.
I was grateful for that. This time I actually got a seat. Jacob must be working with an international affairs case. I worked as an intern at his Law firm in Manhattan. I had known Jacob for a year now, he was a wonderful boss, always accommodating to me and my co-workers.
I couldn't fathom another side of him, one that wasn't so squeaky clean. I realised I was at my stop.
I needed to walk from here to Lancaster road where I lived in Ridgefield. By then, the subway was pretty much deserted—except for that guy in the suit that I had sat next to, and the one that had stood on my foot. I scowled at the tiled walls of the underground subway as I stepped out, after seeing he was too. I held grudges, I couldn't help it.
I accidentally tripped over my own feet as I started up the staircase. Someone grabbed me before I could kiss the concrete. "Oh," I exhaled loudly. "Thanks," I turned to see the suited man behind me. I smiled apologetically. "I'm Mike." He introduced himself. I nodded, holding out a hand for him to shake. "I'm Bella, Mike." I smiled.
"Sorry about that." He shrugged. "Forget about it. I always like to help a beautiful woman." I blushed, flattered. He was quite cute with his baby face, blonde spiky hair and blue eyes. He smiled shyly once more then took off in a hurry up the stairs before me. I blinked then started up them again, being careful with my footing this time.
He wasn't there to catch me. I ground my teeth together when that ass stalked past me as I stepped out into the crisp night.
I sighed and muttered curses at him, turning down the street that led onto mine. I had travelled on foot down this street every night for the past year, coming home from an eight hour day at work. And I had always felt fine, safe, capable. But now, there was an uneasiness settling around me.
I stuffed my left hand in my pocket, clutching onto the strap of my handbag. I walked briskly, the cold air stinging my cheeks.
My hair blew against my face, temporarily blinding me. I pulled my glove off and brushed my hand across my forehead, my hair was falling out of it's bun.
I was quickly and quietly making my way under the generic, flickering street lights when I heard a scream. My eyes bugged open and I jumped, my eyes searching around me for danger. I listened intently, whilst simultaneously searching my bag for my cell phone. The gutters were clogged with leaves, brackish water flooding the sidewalk.
I gingerly stepped over it, hoping I wouldn't slip. I held my cell phone, ready to dial 911 if need be. I hesitantly leaned around the corner of the closest ally way.
Another scream erupted from down the farthest end. I cupped my hand to my mouth. The men—the Portuguese men—were crowded around Mike, the one who had introduced himself to me just moments ago. Their offensive stance around his lone figure made my stomach flip. What were they doing? "Please!" Mike begged.
"Jacob wants his money? I can get it to you, easily. You don't have to do this!" he cried, grasping at straws obviously.
I gawked, my heart hammering noisily in my chest. I hid in the shadows, afraid of being found, but terrified of moving and calling attention to myself. So, I stayed frozen, my feet glued to the pavement beneath me. "We don't take orders from lower employees." One sneered, the one that spoke English in the subway tunnel.
He produced a handgun from a holster inside his jacket. My body was trembling, horrified at what I was witnessing.
He aimed the barrel at Mike's head. I cringed, gasping. The gun fired, a sickening splatter of liquid landed on the ground. They just killed him, just like that. As if he were nothing more than an animal. I fought back the bile rising in my throat. There was nothing but silence then.
I glanced back there, tears in my eyes. I took a step backwards, my shaky hand unable to keep hold of my cell phone.
It dropped with a loud clatter to the wet concrete. I caught a glimpse of one of the mobsters' head flicking around in my direction.
I quickly bent to retrieve it. "Shit! We have company!" he hissed. I gasped, trying to find the strength to move my frozen limbs.
I spun on my heel, pounding down the dimly lit street, scared and upset. I didn't dare look behind me, afraid that I would find one of them just on my heels. I heard shots fired behind me, they hit windows around me, shattering. One hit a car—setting the alarm off. I made the corner, almost falling over.
I ran until I couldn't hear them anymore. I remembered with horrified certainty that my phone was still back there. I gulped, my lungs aching from exhaustion. I had my keys ready, fiddling with the lock on the gate out front. My shaking hands kept dropping them on the ground. "Come on!" I whispered, my voice shaky and broken.
"Come on!" I repeated, my whole body reacting to the adrenaline. I heard footsteps behind me, they were getting closer.
I just about collapsed in surrender. They started running towards me. I sucked in a breath, readying my scream.
They grabbed me around the waist, hoisting me forward with them. "Let go of me!" I screeched.
"I've already called the police!" "Shh!" the hissed, pulling me roughly, their hand moving to just above my elbow.
The deranged stranger spun me around the corner of my building, down the alley beside it, pushing me up against the side of the building, my head cracking against the hard brick wall. My heart pounded in my ears, icy splinters of fear lodged themselves in my stomach.
"Get away from me!" I hissed, struggling against their hold. "Do you want to die?" he hissed back venomously.
I shut my mouth, resigning myself to the fact I wasn't going to live through the night. This man would be responsible. I hoped they fry him. May as well at least try to get someone's attention. "Help!" I cried out. His hand clapped over my mouth.
"What are you fucking crazy?" he growled in his lowest tone. He leaned his face into the moonlight and thats when I saw who it was. Tears sprouted in my eyes. "Please!" I begged, just like Mike had. "Please let me go!" I pleaded in a weak whisper. His eyes softened infinitesimally.
"Just keep quiet, okay?" He warned under his breath, taking his hand away from my mouth.
His bronze hair lit up dramatically in the moonlight, shimmering hypnotically. He was leaning his head around the corner of the brick building, his hand still on my arm. "You're lucky you got away." He said suddenly. "What?" I squeaked. Without a word, he reached into his jacket.
I flinched, cringing against the wall. Instead of the gun I was expecting, he pulled out a police badge. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." He whispered, letting go of my arm fully.
"I'm Detective Cullen of the NYPD, working undercover. And you, you just witnessed something." I nodded, unable to tell him the words, relive the horror of watching someone get executed. I was shivering in my coat, not from the cold, only from the fear. "They killed him." I finally choked out.
The bushy plants behind us rustled in the breeze. He stared down at me and sighed sadly.
"I should have stopped it...I didn't get there in time." I gulped, at least he didn't have to watch it.
"Why did you grab me?" I asked, my voice still high and shaky. "They were coming this way, I had to make sure you were okay." He explained, a little breathless.
To my instant horror, I heard footsteps again from the road. He put a finger to his lips, silently telling me to shut up.
I kept my mouth closed, afraid of making even the smallest of noises. I heard voices then, muted but still recognisable as the men from the alley.
They stalked past my building, still walking down the street. Neither of us said anything until their noises became silent. My chest was rising and falling rapidly with each strangled breath. My head throbbed painfully, my vision going blurry. "This isn't happening." I tried to reason with myself.
"Who are they?" I demanded. Detective Cullen glanced back at me, stepping closer, out of the moonlight.
"They work for Jacob Black, a crooked Lawyer from Manhattan. A mob boss by trade. Usually people who get caught up in a mess like you just did, don't live more than a few seconds."
Jacob? Jacob Black, the lawyer, my boss, my co-worker, my friend?
It was all getting too much. There was too much information to process and too quickly. My boss was a dirty mob boss/possible drug dealer or something and I had almost become one of his mob's victims. My shaking came to a stop, my eyes rolled back in my head.
"Ma'am?" the detective asked, worriedly. I could no longer see anything but blackness, his melodic voice ringing in my ears.
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