Fatal Beauty (4 page)

Chapter 7

She wakes slowly, to the
feel of fingertips pressing against her. For a heartbeat, caught in the haze of
sleep and dreams, desire spools through her, and everything fades. Lips brush
against her throat as a soft finger brushes against the silk of her panties,
sliding along the wet heat there and she sighs. Lips close over her nipple, and
she moans.

A low laugh has her body jerking
and she fights down a scream as he rips aside her panties, thrusting two
fingers deep into her while he bites down against her breast. She shudders as
he circles her clit, maddening pressure that has her back arching against the
bed.

Spots of light dance behind
her closed eyelids, and Charlie grips his hair, twisting just a little as she
drags him up to her lips, nipping at his lips as he kisses her.

“You woke me up,” she
murmurs against his lips and he grins. Bright brown eyes. A wide, laughing smile
that can turn cruel in an instant. The body of a god, and the stamina of a
fucking high school senior. He slides deep, his cock dragging along her
sensitive pussy, and she moans, arching into the thrust.

“Sorry, babe.” He grunts,
pinching her nipple and earning a gasp of pleasure. “Needed that pretty cunt
again.”

He shifts, lifting one leg
to his shoulder and pressing a kiss against her calf before he thrust deep,
deep enough that she bites her fist to silence the scream in her throat, and
the intense pleasure in her body. His face contorts, and she goes still,
watching in fascination as he shudders against her. His expression crunches,
something close to pain.

“Christ, Charlie,” he
groans and she twists her hips. His eyes fly wide as she uses her weight to
switch their position. Smiles down at him triumphantly.

Teasingly, she rocks
against his cock. Until his gaze is cloudy with desire, his hips thrusting to
meet ever slow slide of her pussy around him. His hands are on her tits,
squeezing as he fucks her, dancing along the edge of orgasm.

Then she slides off him,
and laughs against his lips as he curses. “You woke me up,” she whispers.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,”
he grits out and her eyes go wide, mock offended.

“What can that dirty mouth
do to make it up to me,” she muses, and his eyes go wide.

She kisses him, reaching
between their bodies to grasp his thick shaft.
Lets
him fuck into her once. Twice. The she crawls up his body, ignoring his furious
curses.

Kneeling over him, she
smirks down. “Show me,” she orders.

*

She wanders down to the
pool a few hours later, after waking from her nap. EJ is lounging by the pool,
and Charlie can feel her gaze, crawling over her as she approaches with a
mimosa.

“Late night, Charlie?”

She shrugs, sips the drink
and stares at the pool. She feels lazy and anxious—Daddy used to call it itchy,
when she felt cooped up, her skin too tight despite the pleasant drunk feeling
from the sex earlier, and the weed she smoked when she woke up, her thighs
still sore from Geoff’s morning scruff.

“This is the third night in
a row for Geoff,” EJ says, reaching for a Bloody Mary sweating on the table
next to a book she discarded when Charlie opened the patio door.

Charlie shrugs. “He’s a
good fuck.”

EJ’s eyebrows raise and she
scoffs, “He’s an asshole, and you know it.”

Charlie’s grin turns sharp
and just a little bitter. “Maybe I have a type.”

EJ inhales sharply and
Charlie gives a tiny shrug. Shifts enough to snag a strawberry from the plate
Ziva
provided. She ignores the probing stare from her
friend as she nibbles at the fruit and watches the pool. “What do you want to
do today?” she asks. Already, she wants out of the oversized, too empty house.

It’s too many questioning
stares from the quietly judgmental housekeeper, too many empty hours to fill
with worry and thought—and it’s too damn close to EJ.

It’s been almost a week
since they arrived in New Orleans, and there is still no word from Jacob. There
is only so many afternoons to be filled high and getting drunk in the Quarter.

“Nothing,” EJ says,
stretching back in her chair. She’s dressed down in a pair of tiny shorts and a
thin tank top. Faintly, Charlie can see the outline of her nipples, and she
looks away.

“Ok,” she agrees, quietly,
standing.

EJ watches pensively as
Charlie walks away. She’s been borderline self-destructive since they arrived.
Stumbled home drunk with a new toy every night, until she found the current
boy.

They both have been
impatient for the arrival of Jacob. It doesn’t matter how much they drink or
who they fuck, with that hanging over them. Everything is suspended until he
arrives or the cops do.

She lets out a huff and
sits up.

He will arrive—she has full
faith that Jacobs will do just as he promised. When he is finished there will
be no way to implicate the girls.

But what then? That’s the
real tease. When the body is gone and the dust has settled—what will Jacobs
demand for his help? Fear tears through her, and she rubs her arms, swinging to
stand up. Enough. She stalks into the house, shouting for Charlie.

She’s in the library,
headphones on as she listens to some music too loud, her head back and eyes
closed.

Charlie snags one earbud,
tugs it free. “Change of plans,” she says shortly. Charlie blinks up at her, lips
glossy and red and for a heartbeat, they’re kissing in the club, sharp teeth
digging—

“We’re going out,” EJ says
turning.

And stills. Charlie sits up
behind her and she hears, distantly, the soft curse that slips from her friend.

“No, we aren’t,” Jacobs says, his eyes cold and furious as he
lounges against the doorway.

Chapter 8

Ella stands too still, almost like a wild animal who has caught
the gaze of a predator and is trying to avoid its attention.

Why the fuck does Jacobs always reduce her to this? Why can he
when no one else has ever been able to get under her skin quite like this?

“Ladies.” He drawls, “I don’t think you’ve been doing what you
were told.”

Charlie shifts, and EJ’s hand, on her shoulder, tightens. She
speaks before Charlie can. “Were we told something? I was under the impression
you didn’t care what the hell we did—isn’t that why you left us here for over a
week?”

He stares at her for a moment, and then his gaze slips past her,
landing on Charlotte. And it makes EJ shake, how easily dismissed she is.

“You made quite a fuss, disappearing like you did, young lady.”

“I usually make a fuss, whatever I’m doing,” she says, her voice
even. EJ smirks, and wipes the expression from her face before Jacobs can catch
it there. She might find the amusement in Charlie growing some fangs when it
comes to Jacobs, but he wouldn’t.

He’s a bit of a ruthless bastard.

“EJ, I would like a word,” he says abruptly, turning and leaving.
Trusting that she will fall in line.

Charlie’s hand catches hers, squeezing and EJ glances down at her
friend. There is fear there, in her big eyes, fear that she would hate to show.
For a heartbeat, EJ wants to exploit it—play on that fear until it makes her
shake and her eyes go glassy. Instead, she shakes the thought, squeezes her
hand, and says only, “Get dressed and stay in your room.”

Then she follows Jacobs out of the study. He’s climbing the
stairs, and he looks at her as he comes around the slight curve. She shivers at
the look in his eyes, the fury and hunger.

He’s stripping off his tie when she reaches the open doors and he
flicks a glance at her. Then refocuses on the she shirt he’s unbuttoning.

“You were asked to wait. What happened?”

She smiles, and shrugs, stalking into the room and sliding past
him. She drops onto the bed and leans back on her hands. “I got bored. Really,
you had to know that I would.”

“Ella Jane, do you think we’re playing a game? That I am playing a
game, helping you?”

She laughs, and his eyes flash to hers. A smile is on her lips,
but it’s so cold. “Jacobs, you’re always playing a game. Don’t be
pissy
because I decided I didn’t like your rules.”

He reacts just as she planned, his eyes darkening before he lunges
for her. Pinned to the bed beneath him, she can't quite stop the shudder of
pleasure that works through her. His lips cover hers, teeth nipping at her and
she tangles her fingers in his dark hair,

For just a moment, she forgets how furious she is and how he's
made them wait. With his body covering hers, and his tongue twisting away all
logic--she jerks on his hair, pulling him back just enough that she can meet
his furious gaze.

"What the hell did you expect us to do, Jacobs? Waiting has
never been my style."

HIs eyes clear and he gives her a dark stare. She holds her
breath, waiting, wondering—playing with Jacobs is like playing with fire. It's
not a question of if you'll get burned, but when and how badly.

He pushes of the bed with liquid grace and she lets out the breath
she's holding, slowly. Straightens. Not today.

"You asked me to leave my business behind and help you cover
a felony. You do understand that it takes a little time, even for me, to
arrange shit."

She shrugs. "No one forced your hand. You could have said no,
and I would never have brought it up again."

Jacobs laughs as he unbuttons his grey suit pants and steps out of
them. He's almost naked and she doesn't hide her lazy appreciation.

"You knew I wouldn’t walk away from that."

A satisfied smile tugs her lips and Jacobs smirks, almost pleased.
"Very well played, sweetheart."

She allows herself just a moment to savor the tiny victory before
she shifts to sit up on the bed, and asks, "What's next?"

"Next, I go to a meeting with some of my people. And you wait.
I should have everything in place by tonight.”

Fury licks through her, and she makes a low scoff. “You want me to
wait. Again? Fuck you, Jacobs.”

She stands and stalks past him and his hand closes over her arm,
too tight and painful. “My way. That was what you and the pretty little bitch
downstairs agreed to. I make it go away and you do what you’re fucking told.
And right now, that means stay here until I’m ready for you.”

“And if we don’t?” she asks, her voice shaking with anger.

Jacobs releases her, and steps away. She stands still, fascinated
as he tugs on a pair of faded jeans. Pulls a dark blue t-shirt over his head.
He has a gun in his hand when he finally turns to her, and she watches it
warily before he slides it into a holster and tucks it at his hip.

“You can clean this mess up on your own. I’m sure the Charleston
police will have plenty of questions.”

Her lips tighten, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest
any more as he kisses her cheek, the parody of a loving couple, gives her one
last smirk, and stalks out of the bedroom.

She’s still standing there when the door slams and he’s gone.

Chapter 9

The day crawls past. Maybe because they know things will change
after, or because there is a sense of anticipation that wasn’t there before.
And, also, a sour taste of fear that lingers in Jacobs’ wake. EJ changes out of
her bikini and curls up in her room with a bag of weed and a bottle of red
wine, and ignores Charlie when the other girl wanders in to find her.

Not that her silence does anything to dissuade Charlie. She merely
disappears to find another bottle of wine and then crawls into bed next to EJ.

For a long time, they smoke and drink in silence, and she almost
thinks EJ is sleeping, except for the subtle tension that keeps her stiff and
too alert on her side of the bed. And the occasional spark of the lighter.

“What happens when this is over?” EJ asks and Charlie blinks.

Of the many things she’s considered, the aftermath isn’t one of them.
“We go home,” she says slowly.

EJ twists to stare at her, long black hair spreading across the
pillow like midnight. “And then what? Can you find a pretty little boy that
daddy will approve of, go to the parties and club, live your whole boring life
knowing that you took Tre’s?”

She flinches and EJ smirks. Coldly amused. Ruthless when she asks,
“Do you think Jacobs will let us just leave? Now, with everything he has on
us?”

“Don’t be a bitch, EJ,” Charlie says and takes another sip of
wine. Ella laughs, and grins up at her friend. The wine and weed is doing its
work—she’s relaxed the way she was before Jacobs arrived, loose and happy like
she was at the pool this morning.

“Why do you work with him, if you hate him so much?” Charlie asks,
and Ella shrugs.

“I told you. It’s complicated.”

There’s a story there. History that she wants to pick at, but she
doesn’t. Instead she take another sip of wine before abandoning it and the
remains of her joint, and scoots down the bed. Ella snuggles against her back,
soft puffs of breath tickling Charlie’s neck as she falls asleep.

*

She wakes to voices. Jacobs and a male voice she can’t quite
place. She carefully slips out of the tangle of EJ’s limbs, and creeps to the
door of her room.

Jacobs is standing in the hallway with a man she doesn’t know.
Blonde hair dusts along the collar of his t-shirt. Broad shoulders and an ass
that snags her attention despite her unease.

“Charlie, come here.”

She freezes, and the guy looks back at her. Bright, curious blue
eyes that are a little bit jaded. His gaze skims her and she wishes she had
thought to change before she eavesdropped. Especially since she hadn’t learned
anything and she’s being called out in a pair of tiny shorts and a thin tank
top without a bra.

“This is Josh, Charlie.” Jacobs says, and she glances at him,
sidelong. Then offers Josh a slightly cool smile.

“He’s helping us tonight. Where is EJ?”

Fear slithers down her spine at the thought of having someone else
involved, but she shoves it down and shrugs. “Sleeping.”

“Wake her. We’re leaving in an hour.”

She arches an eyebrow, but nods.

She ducks back into the bedroom, ignoring the way Josh is watching
her, and crawls into the bed next to EJ. She’s awake, staring at the ceiling.

“You heard,” Charlie says. EJ nods silently, and for a few
minutes, all either of them do is sit in silence. Listening to the men moving
through the house.

“Hey, EJ?” she whispers.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry. For dragging you into this.”

EJ rolls to sit up and leans against Charlie, resting her head on
the other girl’s shoulder. “Don’t be. Now get up. Jacobs gets bitchy when he’s
kept waiting.”

*

The water slips along the boat in mesmerizing waves. It looks,
from where she sits, like white-capped oil. There is a part of her, a small
part, that
wants nothing more than to sit here, leaning
against Charlie and the side of the boat, and drift away until they find a
shore where no one knows them.

It's a ridiculous thought. She knows that, and she dismisses the
idea before it's fully formed.

The craft is a dark speedboat, and it skips silently across the
water under the easy hands of Jacobs’ business partner. He's been mostly quiet,
treating the girls with careful distance, but the wary caution is slipping the
farther out they go.

She still doesn't know what Jacobs has planned, but she isn't
stupid. They're getting rid of a body. A giggle works its way up her throat and
she reaches over to Charlie, snagging the little flask of vodka she's been
nursing.

They've been on the boat for almost an hour, moving fast enough
that the wind rips away her voice before anyone can hear her. Jacobs is sitting
across from them, staring into nothing. He's wearing a suit, without a jacket,
and looks fucking edible.

Except that he's dangerous as hell and she should be staying far
away. It's hard to remember that sometimes. He makes her want to bend her
rules--boys are for using and losing. The only person to get hurt should be the
other party.

Jacobs always had been good at slipping past her rules.

"How much farther?" she yells and Jacobs flicks a look
at her. Glances around.
It’s
pitch black. The moon
hides behind clouds, or maybe the moon is still new and won't rise tonight.

There is nothing but water and silence and the most dangerous man
she's ever met. And a dead body. It occurs to her that this was a stupid
fucking decision.

Jacobs holds up a hand and Josh pulls back on the throttle,
slowing the boat until it idles in near silence, pulled along by the waves. For
a long moment, no one says anything.

"Now what?" Charlie murmurs.

Jacobs
smiles, and stands. Even
on a boat in the middle of the fucking swampy bayou, he moves with a grace that
makes her want to claw his eyes out or fuck him. Or perhaps fuck him, and then claw
his eyes out. A tiny smirk turns her lips, and then it slips, vanishing as she
looks at the coolers he stops near.

"Now we get rid of that pesky fiancé, sweetheart."

Charlie pales, visible even in the darkness. EJ jerks out of her
seat, and takes a stumbling step forward. "What the hell, Jacobs?"
she snaps.

"Sit down, Ella. This isn't for you to do."

His gaze stays on Charlie and he holds out a hand. "Come on,
Charlie."

EJ watches, fascinated, and a little sick to her stomach as
Charlie takes a deep breath and walks to the end of the boat. She's wearing a
mint green sundress that flutters around her thighs. With big curls that hang
around her shoulders and kitten heels, she should be at an afternoon tea or a
brunch at the
Burningtree
. Anywhere but this boat,
where a drug lord and his business partner watch while she opens the three
coolers.

EJ hisses a curse when the stench hits her and Charlie recoils. At
the front of the boat, Josh shifts.

Jacobs
waits, eternally patient,
his eyes almost dead as he watches her. Charlie looks ready to bolt, and EJ
tenses for it, ready to catch her and step in.

Charlie kicks off her heels and reaches for the first cooler. It's
heavy, and full. Too full for her to lift. Making a face, she reaches in and
grabs a chopped up arm.

EJ gags when the meat hits the water, and she looks away. Straight
into the curious blue eyes of Jacobs’ partner. "What is this?" he
asks, and she shrugs. There's a rhythm to the noise now. The rustle of ice in
the cooler, the soft grunt of Charlie throwing, and the splash of the—she gags
again, and Josh moves, handing her a bottle of beer.

She hates beer, but she drinks it down greedily, praying like hell
it will settle her stomach as the noise continues.

"Who was he?" Josh asks, his gaze slipping past her to
where Charlie is.

EJ shudders, and finishes the beer. Drops it into the cooler at
Josh's side, and gags at the sound of it hitting the ice. "No one,"
she mutters.

His face is in shadows, and she can't see the expression, but she
can feel the doubtful look he's giving her, even as he chooses not to push.
There's a lull in the noise behind her, and then Jacobs says, "All of it,
Charlie. Empty it all."

EJ hears her friend huff out a laugh, her voice strained when she
says,
"
Shut up, Jacobs."

Then the next cooler opens, and the rhythmic throwing begins
again, and EJ nods at the beer. "Another."

*

She’s shivering, and covered in blood, and Jacobs is watching her.
Distantly, she can hear EJ and Josh, over the roar of the wind and the water.
Three empty coolers are sitting by her feet and her arms ache, in that bone
deep way she always feels after a particularly strenuous tennis match. He moves
and Charlie flinches, almost afraid as he slips along the bench to sit next to
her.

Too close. Her eyes dart to him and then to EJ, but she doesn’t
say anything. Only curls tighter into herself, into the blood coating her hands
and the stench of it on her dress.

She wants, very badly, to get drunk, and to throw up.

“You surprised me,” he says and she shivers. Looks at him from the
corner of her eye. “From everything I knew of you, Charlotte, I expected a
spoiled mouse, who would run as soon as things got messy.”

She laughs, and straightens. Hearing that helps, somehow.

She’s always loved being stronger than people expect. Being the
one thing they underestimate.

“Why?” she asks.

“Because that is all Ella has ever known,” he says, simply.

She stares at him for a long minute, a puzzle piece clicking into
place. Whoever Jacobs is to Ella, he has been a part of her life for a long
time. Longer than Charlie wants to consider. He’s dangerous and tied so closely
to her best friend.

And he’s looking at her now, with something in those dead eyes.

Something she’s seen in a thousand boys.

Hunger.

A smile, coy and girlish, turns her lips, and she sits back,
primly. Ignoring him completely as they slip across the black water.

Jacobs laughs, a small dry noise that tells her he knows—of course
he knows. He’s Anthony Jacobs, and he plays this game so much better than she
could ever hope to.

Josh is leaning into EJ, one hand low and curved around her waist.
She’s drunk, and it pisses Charlie off.

She just tossed three coolers full of chopped up Tre into the
fucking
swano
, and EJ is the one drunk and doing
stupid shit.

Because flirting with Josh in front of Jacobs—that’s the very
definition of stupid shit.

EJ giggles and Charlie twists to look at Jacobs. “Don’t put me in
a box simply because it’s what she’s used to,” she says quietly. There’s a soft
whimper from the front of the boat, and a perverse part of her is thrilled at
the shadow of anger that flares in Jacobs’ gaze. Then Charlie is kissing him
and she can’t see his jealousy or feel her own.

Just his lips, so incomprehensibly soft against hers. How
can a man
as cold and hard as Jacobs is, be this soft? She
swallows her startled gasp, and he drags a hand through her hair, into her
messy ponytail, and pulls her closer, his tongue licking into her mouth. He’s
everywhere, his hands on her hips a delicious pressure. He catches her lip with
his bottom teeth and sucks it softly, his hand sliding up her thigh. She
catches it with her own, and pulls back.

“No.” Charlie whispers

A laugh spills from him. “No?”
Jacobs
echoes, amused.

The boat is slowing and EJ is pulling away from Josh. A pang of
guilt runs through her, and she shifts. Stands.

“No,” she repeats.

*

They move across the lawn silently. EJ is aware of the tension
vibrating through Charlie, making her bloody hands shake just a little. Jacobs
and Josh are still by the boat.

For a heartbeat, she wants to ask about that kiss, but she
doesn’t. “Shower?”

“God, yes,” Charlie says fervently, and she swallows a giggle. How
different is today compared to the night she found Charlie standing over Tre’s
bloody body. Then, she had been a terrified mess. As they climb the stairs to
Charlie’s room, EJ realizes just how much has changed—Charlie isn’t terrified
right now. Her cheeks are flush and she’s a mess, but she’s got a gleam in her
eyes that EJ recognizes, and she’s almost smiling.

“You like this,” she says softly.

Charlie looks at her, eyes wide. “Like what?”

“All of this,” EJ shoots back. “Being here. Jacobs, for fucks
sake.”

Charlie laughs, and stalks into her bathroom, unzipping her dress
and stepping out of it. EJ stops in the doorway. “What am I supposed to
dislike, EJ? I hate the fact that we’re in this situation. But being seen? As
more than a fucking socialite? Yeah. I love that.”