Femme Fatale

Chapter Sixteen: Pablo Picasso

​Once again, Jax found himself in Jo's bed. She was sleepily resting her head on his bare chest, and he traced his index finger down her spine, causing her to shiver. Jax was drawn to her like a moth to a fatal flame. Her pull was irresistible. As he sighed to himself, there was a knock on the bedroom door.

After a beat, the door clicked open and in walked Michael. "Ah, there you are. I was looking for you everywhere," he said to Jax. Michael rubbed his beard in an attempt to cover a smile, but the laughter in his blue-grey eyes gave him away.

Jo clutched the sheets to her naked body and searched for her clothes strewn about the bed.

Jax greeted his friend, unfazed and unashamed. "What's up?"

Jo got dressed and quickly made her way to her bathroom.

"Your dear friend, Pierre Arseneau, is back in the States," Michael said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "He wants to see me this weekend."

Jax grimaced upon hearing the name. It was apparent that there was no love lost between the two of them.

Jo paused and turned to look at Michael. "Did you say Pierre Arseneau?"

"Yes. Why?" Michael asked curiously. Pierre was a career criminal, notorious in underground circles, but unknown to the general public.

"He was the man behind the Musée d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris heist, was he not?" she asked in a perfect accent.

The two men stared at her, floored by the words that had just come out of her mouth.

"How did you know that?" Michael demanded.

She just shrugged her shoulders. "I have my ways."

Jo's most cherished childhood memories were of her father taking her to art museums. They would spend hours indulging in their shared passion, with her perched on Noah's shoulders as he explained the story behind his favorite paintings. He knew everything, and she was convinced her father was the smartest man in the world.

For Jo's sixteenth birthday, he surprised her with an art tour through Paris. It was the last trip they took together before he died. The Musée d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, or the Paris Museum of Modern Art, was one of the many museums that they had visited.

She still remembered the utter joy in her father's voice as they stood before Picasso's Le Pigeon Aux Petits Pois. "This piece is from Picasso's cubism period," he explained, giving Jo's hand a squeeze.

Noah was obsessed with the cubism movement. He loved that it challenged conventional forms of representation. "Johanna, always look at the world from different viewpoints and angles, like Picasso," he had lectured her.

Not long after her parents' death, the Paris Museum of Modern Art was burglarized. Five paintings were stolen from the museum, including the Picasso, and Jo felt as though her last memories of her father were stolen as well.

The Museum's alarm system had malfunctioned the night of the theft, and Jo discovered that the security system operator had been paid off. Although money trail was deeply attenuated, it eventually led to Pierre Arseneau.

"What did Arsenau do with the artwork?" she asked Michael, trying to ignore the pangs of sadness that always accompanied memories of her father.

"He has a wing of his American property dedicated to the paintings," Michael said.

"I see," Jo said, the wheels in her head spinning. "I'm going to shower now."

She turned on her heel and made her way to the bathroom. As hot water washed over her, she came up with a plan.

* * * * * *

Jo walked out of her personal bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body. Michael had already left and Jax was pulling a shirt over his head. She plopped down on the foot of her bed and watched the buff figure before her get dressed.

When Jax spotted her, he grinned. "I didn't even hear you," he marveled.

"Here, let me help you with that," he said, reaching for her towel.

Jo smacked his hands away. The man was insatiable. She thanked her lucky stars, no, she thanked Sophia Bennett for her IUD. Her mother's "sex talk" spanned the course of an entire week and left no stone unturned.

"Awh, come on," Jax pleaded.

"So... Pierre just has over a hundred million dollars of artwork sitting in his house?" Jo asked, ignoring his advances.

"Apparently," Jax shrugged. "It's not like he's ever invited me over."

"But he and Michael are close?"

Jax sat beside Jo, then lowered himself backwards onto the bed. He pulled her down with him.

"They used to be partners back in the day. It's a long story."

"What if-" Jo paused for dramatic effect. "I was able to get you those stolen paintings?"

Jax laughed at her absurd statement.

"I'm serious!" she said, poking him in the ribs.

Jax flinched and grabbed her hand. "You can't steal from Pierre Arseneau," he informed her.

"You want to make a bet?" Jo asked.

Jax sat up and looked at her. "You are serious," he said in disbelief.

"How about this: I help you get those paintings, and you let me walk out of here alive."

Jax was silent, but she could tell he was tempted by the offer.

Jo continued, "I'll need your word that you won't come after me or my people."

He was still deep in thought.

"Jax, those paintings are worth over one hundred million," she reiterated.

"That's an interesting proposal," Jax said, rubbing his beard. "I'll discuss it with the boys."

* * * * * *

The men were sitting around the table in their study, discussing Jo's proposal from earlier in the day. Frank was the first to speak. "No. Absolutely not. As soon as we let that girl off her leash, she'll bolt."

"That's possible," Michael countered. "But there's no denying she's got talent. She one-upped Corey over here, nearly shot one of us when we kidnapped her, and Lord only knows how she found out about Arseneau."

Corey grimaced and sat deeper in his chair, his body hot with embarrassment.

"That's the problem. She's too talented. Like I said, she's going to run," Frank argued.

"We'd need leverage then," Michael said.

Jax sat quietly at the head of the table, listening to his men argue. They both had valid points. He looked at the youngest who was squirming about in his chair. "What do you think, Corey?" Jax asked.

Corey straightened up upon hearing his name. "Well... She comes from money. I think her parents left her a few million. Maybe she could, I don't know, pay her own ransom, and then we kill her?" he suggested hopefully. Working with Jo was the last thing Corey wanted to do. She had made him look like a big enough fool already.

"I like where your head is at," Frank said to Corey. "But a few million dollars and her life isn't enough. We are out five million, and she and her scumbag brother both deserve to die."

Jax clenched his jaw. He no longer had the urge to kill Jo, but he wasn't about to admit that to his men. "Gentlemen, I believe that a man is only as good as his word. When I make a deal, I intend to keep it. Even if it's a deal with a thieving bitch."

The other men nodded in agreement.

"That being said, I'd let Hitler live for one hundred million dollars," Jax said.

The other men roared with laughter, and Jax smirked. "Let's sleep on this. We have a lot to think about."

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