From the latest chapter

"Isabella Swan!"Charlie sucked air deep into his chest and exhaled, letting his words reverberate inside his chest in the menacing manner only a police officer or a drill sergeant could muster.

One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Three-one thousand. Damn! I. Can't. Believe. She's. Going. To. Make. Me. Drag. Her. In. The. House.

When Charlie saw Bella and Edward moving toward the house, he stepped away from the door. He had already broadcast his displeasure to the entire neighborhood, but he wanted to let them wonder what might be awaiting them inside the house. Edward stepped up on the porch behind Bella. He bent forward and reached for the door. He pulled it open for Bella, who marched resolutely inside, but stopped short, barely allowing Edward sufficient room to close the door behind himself.

Charlie glared. "In the kitchen," he barked as he wheeled away from the couple.

Charlie heard Bella shuffle toward the specified destination, but couldn't detect Edward's footfall. Sneaky little prick. Charlie had decided that tightening Bella's restriction on the grounds that hiding the motorcycle at La Push, even if she hadn't been riding it recently, was a crime that deserved a more stringent punishment and, correspondingly, a stiffer sentence than she was now serving. Consecutive sentences. Fifteen to life.

Charlie was ready to lynch Bella and Edward the second they set foot in the kitchen. Charlie noted that the arm that had been wrapped protectively around Bella when they walked in the house, had not moved.

"Edward, I want to see your hands. In your pockets. In the air. Or folded in prayer. I don't care. I just want to see your hands anyplace but on Bella."