Femme Fatale

Chapter Thirteen: Two Steps Ahead

Jo was still sprawled out on the floor as Jax started to get dressed. He gingerly pulled on his t-shirt and winced. The blood from Jax's scratched up back soaked through the cloth, leaving a red stain.

"Sorry," Jo said, sitting up.

She didn't look apologetic at all.

Jax shook his head. "Okay, so what was the second good reason?" he asked as Jo searched for her own clothes.

Jo finished putting on her black satin bra, then tousled her long, wavy hair with one hand. She looked at him as he admired her, knowing full well that killing her was the furthest thing from his mind.

Jo took a deep breath. "Reason number two: because I'm worth more than five million."

Jax raised his eyebrows as her words sunk in. "I'm listening," he said. "Go on."

"I'm invaluable alive because, well, I'm the best." Jo shrugged. "I'm sure Corey is really good at what he does, but I was drunk off my ass when I hacked into your account. It was easy."

Jax just stood there, stunned.

"The security was really well done. My brother couldn't even locate your digital wallet," Jo continued. "He didn't steal your money. I did."

The shock on Jax's face was quickly replaced by anger. "Are you fucking kidding me? If anything, that's a reason why I should kill you."

Jo swallowed. "I know. I'm actually sorry about that. I shouldn't have gotten involved," she admitted. This time, she actually looked remorseful.

And she was remorseful.

Jo was angry at herself for participating in an Agency-sanctioned mission. The Agency hadn't changed at all - they still treated their own like cogs in a machine as opposed to real human beings. They had no regard for the safety of their Agents.

She looked at Jax. "If you keep me alive, I'll pay you back and then some. Otherwise, you won't see a dime of that money."

Jax was floored by the revelation. He studied Jo for a moment, then walked out of the room without a word. The door locked behind him. 

Jo sighed a breath of relief. He had actually taken the news relatively well, just as she had hoped.

Jo was well aware that sex releases a flood of endorphins and oxytocin, which is why she had timed her confession and proposal accordingly.

*        *        *        *        *        *

"Tap out, Jo," Thomas instructed his little sister.

Jo just gurgled in response. She was lying on the sparring mat with Thomas's foot pressed on her throat. She clawed at her brother's ankle, but he was far stronger than she was. He looked down at Jo sympathetically, but he didn't remove his foot. Thomas wasn't allowed to go easy on his younger sister, or else they'd both be punished. He had made that mistake before.

Jo's face was getting redder by the second and she was sure her head might pop like an overinflated balloon. Finally, she gave up. She smacked her hand against the mat three times, admitting defeat. Thomas removed his foot and tried to help Jo up, but she just glared at him angrily as she rubbed her throat.

"I hate you!" she yelled at Thomas. Jo didn't actually hate her brother, but she did hate losing.

She wiped away her tears and ran to her parents, who had been watching nearby. She wrapped her little arms around her father and cried into his shirt. Noah patted the young girl's head.

"There, there, Johanna," he said gently. He crouched down to be at his daughter's eye level and wiped away her tears with his thumbs.

"He always beats me," Jo sniffled. "It's not fair!"

"You're right, Johanna. It's not fair," Noah said. "You're not as strong as the boys. If you want to beat them, you must train harder than they do. Okay?"

Jo nodded. "Will you train me?" she asked.

Noah smiled warmly. "Of course," he said, giving her a reassuring hug. "We can start extra training sessions tomorrow, if you'd like."

Sophia squeezed her husband's shoulder. "Noah, go comfort Thomas. Tell him he did a good job. He looks absolutely crestfallen," Sophia instructed, interrupting their sweet embrace.

"Yes, dear," Noah said. He gave his daughter one last pat on the head before walking over to his son, who was watching Jo sadly. The children's sparring instructor was congratulating Thomas but the praise fell on deaf ears.

It was Sophia's turn to crouch down and talk to her daughter. She grabbed Jo's shoulders with both hands. "Little one, look at me," Sophia said sternly. "Stop crying."

Jo looked at her mother in shock, surprised by the harsh words coming from her mouth. Her sniffling eventually subsided, and she blinked away the last of her tears.

"Good girl," her mother said. "Now listen to me carefully. Your father is only half right. You do have to train harder if you want to beat the boys. But you can't rely on physical ability alone. You have to use this, too." Sophia tapped on the side of Jo's head.

"My brain?" Jo asked.

"Yes. You won't always be faster or stronger than your opponent. But you can be smarter than he is. Find out his weaknesses, and exploit them. Always be two steps ahead."

"How do I do that?" Jo asked.

Sophia smiled at her inquisitive daughter. "You must learn to read people," she said. "For example, your father and brother are big softies. Did you see their faces when they saw you cry?"

Jo nodded.

"Your tears are their weakness. Use that to your advantage," Sophia told her daughter. "Other men can be manipulated in different ways. But that's a discussion for a different day."

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