While You Were Gone Ch 4 Teaser

Hey, all. I submitted this to Fictionators for Teaser Monday but waited a day to post it here so that I wasn't completely spamming with updates yesterday.

So here it is... as soon as Stratan and I finish the chapter, it'll be posted!

--

The rain started to fall harder, so I rushed up the stoop and into the house before I could get any wetter. Charlie rushed through the kitchen doorway and into the living room with a can of Vitamin R in one hand and his gun, pointing toward me, in the other.

“You scared me,” he said sternly. “I didn’t know who was stupid enough to break into the Chief of Police’s house, but they weren’t going to get away with it.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled.

He sat the can of beer down and reached over to mute the cheers of the crowd in the baseball stadium so that he could talk to me.

“What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be home until tomorrow.”

“I know.” I shrugged, hoping to play it off until Edward came inside. “But I’m here.”

He stared at me for a moment before walking toward me. The intensity of his gaze had me fidgeting nervously and wondering if this was what made him such a good cop. I felt like squealing like a stuck pig and spilling all the secrets I was holding on my tongue without him so much as uttering a single sound.

The gun in his hand didn’t help matters any, even though rationally, I knew he would never consider using it on me.

“You look different, Bells. Good, but different. Did you do something to your hair?”

A relieved laugh burst out of my chest, causing him to cock his head to the side questioningly. Leave it to Charlie to think that the reason for me looking so different could be explained by a change of my hair.

“Yeah. Angela and I got bored one night and played around with it.”

“Oh.” He glanced back at the floor behind me. “Where are your bags? Did you leave them in the car?”

“Um, no, not exactly…”

“Then where are they?”

“They’re… Well…”

I heard Edward turning the knob and moved aside so that he had room to come in. He was hunched over from the rain, pretending to act as if it bothered him — like a human would. He started through the door just as I heard the loud boom from Charlie’s gun and felt a streak of wind rush past my cheek.

The bullet pierced Edward’s coat and ricocheted off his stone shoulder, immediately lodging itself in the wall across from him and sending a trail of drywall dust down to the floor.

“Hmm. I was actually pretty fond of this coat,” he said casually, examining the hole in the fabric with an annoyed expression.