Femme Fatale

Chapter Twenty-Three: Nothing Good Happens After Two A.M.

When Jo and Michael arrived home, there was a noticeable shift in their body language. Something had happened between them, and the change wasn't purely from sex. It was something else that Jax couldn't quite place, but he quickly brushed it off.

"Everything went off without a hitch," Jax said with a grin. He held out his hand to Jo. "Come see our spoils."

Jo was exhausted and jittery from the day's events. It was a conflicting mixture of feelings, and all she wanted to do was shower and crawl into bed. Nevertheless, she took Jax's hand and followed him to the study.

Jo gasped at the sight before her. The five stolen paintings from the Paris Museum of Modern Art were laid out on a table, each more beautiful than the next. They had successfully recovered the lost works of Léger, Braque, Modigliani, Matisse, and Picasso.

Jo stared down at Picasso's Le Pigeon Aux Petits Pois. The blues and yellows of the abstract painting started to shift and merge together under her gaze. She suddenly realized tears were forming in her eyes, blurring her vision. Jo sniffled and tried to collect herself.

The painting brought back vivid memories of her father. So vivid, in fact, that Jo felt his presence in the room. She could hear his deep voice in her ear, and the hairs on the nape of her neck stood up. She felt the warmth of his large hand engulfing hers, and she whipped her head around to see if he really beside her. He wasn't. 

She was just hallucinating.

Jo just stood there, staring at the painting in quiet despair. The cold chill of loneliness spread through her chest like cancer, making it hard to breathe. Oh, how she longed to be home and with her family again. She missed her parents. She missed Thomas and Jake. 

She missed how things used to be. 

Jax wrapped his arms around her. She had been speechless for some time, and he misread her contemplative mood as satisfaction with a job well done.

"Jo," he said, clearing his throat.

"Hm?"

"You should stay here."

Jo's body stiffened, and panic flooded through her body like ice water. Jax could feel the shift in her mood, and he let her go. She turned around to face him.

"Jax..."

"I'm serious. We make a good team."

Jo's jaw clenched. She was not in the mood for this right now. "That wasn't the deal," she replied. As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted how cold she sounded.

It was Jax's turn to harden, his face stony with rage. "So is that it?" he asked. "I didn't mean anything to you, did I?"

Jo remained silent. She knew she should say something, but her tongue felt heavy and her mouth was dry. She was feeling strange and off her game. The alcohol, drugs, nerves, and foreign emotions that had been battling in her body were coming to a head.

"I'm a fucking idiot," Jax laughed coldly as he shook his head. "I'm just some poor schmuck you seduced into doing your bidding." 

"Excuse me? My bidding?" Jo couldn't contain the anger in her voice. "You kidnapped me, remember? You brought me here, and you got a hundred million out of it."

Jo and Jax glared at each other, their pupils turning to tiny pinpricks and their nostrils flaring.

"Right," Jax said sarcastically. He stormed out of the study, cursing to himself.

"Fucking asshole," Jo muttered, balling up her fists. She exhaled slowly in an attempt to cool down. Bed. She needed bed.

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Michael, Frank, and Corey were eating late night snacks in the kitchen when they heard Jax and Jo yelling at each other. They were unbothered at first, assuming that angry hate sex would soon follow the lovers' tiff.

But when Jax and Jo stormed out at different times and in different directions, they exchanged glances. Jax slammed his bedroom door shut, and the harsh sounds of breaking glass and loud curse words echoed through the house.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Frank asked.

"I'll go check on him," Michael said. He tossed his half-eaten apple into the trash and made his way upstairs.

Corey was holding a sandwich to his face with his elbows on the table. He stared at it as if it had the answers to all his pressing questions. He sighed at the sandwich, then put it back on its plate.

"Jax is really into her," Corey said.

"Yeah, he's into fucking her," Frank scoffed.

"No, it's more than that."

Frank looked at the curly-headed blonde curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I'll show you," Corey said as he stood up from the table.

Frank followed Corey into the surveillance room, and the two men sat in front of the expansive computer screen showcasing footage from their property.

Corey pointed to one of the squares on the computer screen, showing Jo fast asleep in her bed.

"This is Jo's room," he said. 

Corey rewound the footage to the previous night and hit play. Jax was sitting on the couch with Jo straddling him, both naked. His hands gripped her hips, maneuvering her up and down rhythmically onto him. But it was the look in Jax's eyes that disgusted Frank: he was gazing at Jo with adoration.

"Jesus," Frank said, shaking his head.

Corey rewound the footage again and stopped at Jo lying on top of her bed sheets with just a bra on. Jax's face was buried between her legs, and her fingers were tangled in his shaggy blonde hair.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Frank said. This was not the same boss he had grown to fear and respect. This was a weak man pussy-whipped by a Jezebel. 

"We're going back to the original plan. We have to kill her. She's not good for Jax - or us for that matter."

"But... what about the deal?" Corey stammered.

"We can't let her go, you dumb shit. She knows too much. And who's to say she won't fuck with us once we let her go?"

Corey was processing Frank's words, but he agreed. They had to get rid of her. She had created nothing but problems for him since entering their lives. 

"What about Jax? And Michael?" Corey asked.

"I'll come up with something," Frank replied. He observed Jo in the throes of passion with a dark look on his face. 

"I always do."

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