Anne Express: Virtuoso ~ Chapter-7

A/N: Hope all of you had a great weekend. I know I did. Got my post-graduation degree this weekend. 🙂

On another note, I’d like to thank Tarbecca for rec’ing this little story of mine in the ADifferentForest Fic Dive.

Anyway, let’s see what Virtuoso is up to.

Chp7


Chapter-7: A Key


EPOV


I sit in my bed with my head in my hands as I hear Esme list all the reasons why I should go into hiding. “According to the cops, you were the one Simmons was last seen with,” she says.

“That’s not right,” I protest. “I delivered him to the hotel he requested to be delivered and then I got out of there. I even bought that bastard dinner before leaving him.”

“What did you pay with?”

Esme’s question makes me roll my eyes. “Es, I’m no ametuer. I paid with cash as always. No paper trail, you know that.”

“That’s good,” Esme says, letting out a sigh of relief. “But …”

“But?”

“A paper was found next to Simmons’ body.”

“Okay,” I reply slowly. “What about it?”

“It’s got your code name and email address written on it.”

“Fuck!” I swear. “No wonder the cops think I have something to do with it.” A sudden thought crosses my mind, and I ask, “Esme?”

“Yes, Kid?”

“Do you know the name of my employer? The one who asked me to get Isabella’s DNA?”

“Why? You never want to know who’s employing you. That’s the reason we get paid higher than most mercenaries.” I can feel the surprise in her voice when she asks, “Why do you want to know who hired you all of a sudden?”

I run my fingers through my hair, pulling them in frustration. “Think about it, Esme. The person, whoever it is, asked me to find out more about her. And while I was busy with that, another subject of mine drops dead? Isn’t it too convenient?”

“You think you’re being framed?” Esme’s voice rises an octave.

I nod, knowing she’ll be able to see me. “It does seem like that, do you think?”

“That asshole!” she swears.

“Ha!” I say, “You called him an asshole. So it’s a guy!” Narrowing my eyes at the screen, I ask, “You’ve tracked him down already, haven’t you?”

“I may have.”

I sit up straighter. “And? Who is it?”

“You know that big time TV reporter, Carlisle Cullen?” When I draw a blank, she huffs. “Honestly, Kid, it won’t kill you to watch the news once in awhile, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. What about that guy?”

“He’s the one who borrowed your services.”

I can’t help but frown. “Why would a reporter need the services of a mercenary? And more importantly, why is he so interested in Isabella?”

“Why indeed,” Esme echos. “Do you think there’s something off about him?”

I nod. “I’m sure of it. But it’s like I’m missing a key to this mystery.”

Who is this Carlisle Cullen?


BPOV


The sun light hits my eyes, making me groan. “Someone shut off the sun,” I mumble as I turn over in my sleepy state.

I feel a hand shake me awake lightly. “Wake up, honey.”

“Mom,” I groan, positively sounding like a petulant teenager. “I wanna sleep in.”

“Your phone has been ringing nonstop for over an hour, honey,” mom tells me in a sympathetic voice. “Maybe it’s something important.”

I open an eye and look at her, shielding my eyes with my hand. “Who is it?”

“Leah.”

In an instance, my sleep evaporates, and I’m sitting up in my bed as if electrocuted. “I must be late! Shit!” Blindly, I reach for my phone and pick up the call. “Leah, I’m so sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be when I get my hands on you, Barone!” From the other side of the call, Leah barks. “You better have a damn good explanation.”

For being a little late? I frown. This pregnancy thing has turned her into a dictator!

“I know, I know. I’m late,” I say, hoping to pacify her. “I’m already out of the door as we speak.”

“Late? Late?” she repeats, sounding like she’s at a loss for words. “You think I care about you being late after you published an article on the tabloid without so much as a consult with me?”

“Article …?” I start and then it hits me. Rosalie! I published an article about Rosalie’s story in my drunken stupor last night!

“L-Leah, I …” She cuts me off and says in severe tone, “Get your ass here right now, Barone. You owe me a damage control.” And then, she hangs up on me, leaving me gaping like a fish out of water.

Oh Budweiser, why didn’t you leave me a little wiser? I want to cry out as I get ready to face the consequences of my actions.


A/N: So … thoughts?

Share them with me and leave a review.

Thanks for reading.

 

See you on Wednesday.

Love,

Ann

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