Femme Fatale

Chapter Two: The Best Way To Celebrate

It was twelve a.m. and Jo was unlocking the front door to her apartment when her work phone pinged. Jo kicked off her black sneakers, specifically designed to be silent, shook out her French braid, and made a beeline to her wine cabinet.

As she poured herself a glass of pinot noir, every muscle in her body instantly relaxed. Jo always needed a drink after completing a mission. That, or the warm body of the opposite sex, and after the evening she just had, she would definitely need both.

Jo placed her wine glass on the mirrored coffee table and plopped down on her royal blue couch. She pulled out her work phone from the pocket of her nondescript black hoodie and smiled.

Just as she suspected, the earlier ping was a notification from her bank account. State Representative, Joshua Harrison, had just wired her thirty thousand dollars for preventing what would have been a major political crisis. That was more than enough reason to celebrate.

Johanna Bennett was one the best kept secrets in high society and political circles. For a large sum, she would clean up their messes or find out coveted information. To be perfectly frank, there were very few things she couldn't do given her extensive training and skill set.

Earlier, Joshua Harrison's people had contacted her in a complete state of panic. His mistress, Riley Hunter, threatened to go public with their very explicit sex tape unless she was paid an ungodly amount of money.

Fortunately for him, Jo respected the State Representative as a politician. He was one of the few that actually cared for the people. It was a shame he couldn't keep it in his pants, but that didn't negate all the good he was doing, so she agreed to help him.

From the comfort of her own home office, Jo was able to delete the explicit video from the mistress's phone and computer, as well as the Cloud. Hacking into systems was the easy part. Getting rid of the physical copy of the sex tape was the hard part.

Well, not hard, but it required leaving her apartment. Jo had spent her evening breaking into Riley's home, sneaking around unnoticed, and destroying every piece of physical evidence of the affair.

Jo savored the complex notes of her wine as she admired the abstract gold leaf painting on the wall. There was no shortage of beautiful artwork in her apartment, but this one, with its blues and grays and golds, was Jo's favorite.

She swirled the pinot noir around her tongue before pulling out her monogrammed phone.

Jo: Meet me at Lucky's in 30?

Brandon: Yes, ma'am.

* * * * * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Jo entered the quiet, dimly lit bar known as Lucky's. She had swapped her sneakers for suede over-the-knee boots, and her hoodie for a loose silk blouse. As soon as she took a seat, the attentive Lucky's bartender placed a glass on a napkin in front of her. "Hey, Alex. Tequila on the rocks."    

She smiled. "Thanks, Scott."

Jo was fond of Lucky's for several reasons, and one of those reasons was Scott. She took a sip of tequila and admired him over the rim of her glass. His light eyes were framed by thick eyelashes that most women could only dream about, but his buzzcut and jawline were markedly masculine.

As Jo and Scott made light-hearted conversation, Brandon walked into Lucky's. He immediately recognized Jo's luscious head of dark hair and perfect figure. There was an elegance in the way she carried herself, and also in the way she dressed.

The majority of his revolving door of female students wore teeny tiny minidresses and stuffed their bras when they went out drinking - as if to say "I'm ready and willing! Me, pick me!" - but not Jo. She had a carefully understated presence about her.