Fatal Beauty (18 page)

Chapter 27

They arrive at the MGM Grand with no fanfare. For them, it’s
almost anticlimactic. A valet takes the Nova and their bags, and Charlie and EJ
get a few curious glances, but this isn’t Charleston. They aren’t the biggest fish
in the pond, not here.

Here, they’re barely afloat.

And neither are terribly bothered. Charlie waits at EJ’s side as
she uses her fake IDs and Charlie’s credit cards to get a room. The
receptionist is polite and distant—they aren’t making an impression.

It’s strange, and perfect.

The hotel room has a gorgeous view of the Strip, sprawled out like
a glittering rug of sex and distraction. Charlie stares at it for a moment.

Tre loved Vegas. It was one of the only things he and Hayes both
liked, and she can remember a time—the summer after her junior year at
Vandy
—when she was still convinced that he hung the moon
and stars—that they had taken a week to hit the city.

It was a blur in her memory of drunk nights, gambling too much and
hot sex. Hayes had fucked his way through nameless girls they dragged home from
the casino, and one night, Tre had agreed to take her to a Cirque show,
although he’d bitched through most of it.

They had been so crazy stupid in love, then. It had almost been
enough.

“What are you thinking about?” EJ asks, quietly.

Charlie releases the sheer curtains and they call to cover the
window, clouding over the lights outside.

“How fast everything can change. Last time I was in Vegas
,
 
I
was in love with
Tre and couldn’t imagine life without him.”

EJ makes a low dismissive noise in her throat, and it annoys
Charlie. Even knowing she agrees on one level, even knowing that Tre was toxic
and would likely kill her one day with his abuse—even with that, it annoys her.

Because it reminds her that there has always been a disparity
between them. She needs EJ, more than EJ will ever need her.

And she isn’t comfortable needing anyone.

“I’m going out,” she says, abruptly, and EJ looks at her, eyes
slightly startled. “You
wanna
come?” she offers.
Nerves dance in her belly, unfamiliar and almost painful.

“I need to do this,” EJ says, nodding at the open computer.

This.

Cripple Jacobs, and get out.

A tiny smile turns her lips, and she nods as she turns away. “Then
I’ll be back in a few hours.”

EJ watches the door swing shut behind Charlie. She’s been quiet
and distant, even after she’s started talking again, a small part of her
wonders if she’s going to bolt.

They can’t go home. That ship sailed in Memphis, when she shot
Marco and
Pax
.

But there is a very good chance Charlie hasn’t realized it yet.

*

 
Nerves are clawing at her
as she walks through the casino. No one
ID’d
her,
which is good because she doesn’t have one. Not yet. She considers approaching one
of the tables, but decides against it. She doesn’t need to play, and her heart
isn’t in it, not tonight. It’s more about being present than anything.

She can feel the curious eyes of other patrons at the bar--a few
older men with lecherous smiles that make her want to wear a burlap sack, a
girl younger than she is sitting next to one with a bored expression. And a few
guys her age. One is being a little too obvious--he reminds her a little of the
guy EJ seduced at the bar in Santa Fe, before everything went to hell.

A little too eager, a little too desperate. A sweet, disposable
puppy.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asks, his gaze
trailing down her neck to the wash of cleavage, before he drags his eyes back
to hers and gives her an appreciative smirk. She arches an eyebrow.

"Whiskey sour," she says and his eyebrows hitch just a
little before he reaches for a glass. He doesn't talk while he makes her drink,
and she's happy to be left alone, watching the horse race on the screen and
trying to shake the memories that won't leave her the fuck alone.

"Here you go," he says and offers a final friendly
smile.

Charlie nods and slips off the stool after laying a tip on the
shiny bar. He whisks it away and she sips her drink as she
sways
away, into the crowd of machines and desperate humanity and gaming tables.

"Ma'am?"

She glances back as a hand touches her elbow, and swallows hard.

From across the bar, surrounded by his friends, the puppy looked
cute, but nothing to write home about. But now he's standing in front of her, a
hopeful sort of smile on his face and she has to admit that he's delicious. Not
just cute and desperate, but jaw
droppingly
handsome,
with a strong jaw, bright blue eyes, and dark scruff that gives the impression
of someone harder. He's smiling, almost tentative, almost amused.

"You left your phone."

"My phone?" she says. He wiggles it slightly, and she
flushes, a tiny laugh bubbling up. Stupid, stupid girl. "I did. Thank you
so much!" He grins at her, and starts to step back, and Charlie speaks
before she can talk herself out of it. "Let me say thanks."

It stops him, but a smile is twisting his lips. "You
did," he points out.

"Let me take you to dinner," she says, a shy smile
turning her lips.

It's stupid. She'll be gone in a few days, and dinner with this
lost little boy—it's not in the plan to clean out Jacobs’ accounts and leave.
It's not in any plan. But he's grinning at her in that wholesome way that she
has always loved and hated. The same way that Tre smiled at her, at the very
beginning of their whirlwind courtship, before things went so off the rails.

The way
Pax
had, in college when she
agreed to marry him, and even after, when she told him she was going to marry
Tre. It's adoring and a little bit idiotic, and she smiles, sweet and innocent,
as a tiny thrill of triumph rushes through her.

"How about you let me take you to dinner?" he says,
closing the space between them, until he's standing in her space, watching her
with those bright
bright
eyes shadowed with desire,
and she has a heartbeat of fear, of blinding panic that she felt in Santa Fe,
and the empty pit she plunged into when Jason--she shoves the memory down,
violently, and nods.

"I'd like that."

"Tomorrow?" he murmurs and she nods. He takes the phone
from her and keys in a number. In his pocket, his own phone rings before he
kills the call. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Charlotte," she murmurs.

He smiles then, a wide thing that makes her heart jerk.

The high of getting a guy to fall for her will never. Ever. Lose
it's
appeal. It's better than
pills or coke or weed. It's fucking intoxicating, even when she's utterly
sober.

"I'm Jasper. Try to hold on to that, ok?" He closes her
hand around the phone and his palm is warm and rough on hers, and she wonders what
he does, to have a hand so rough. "I'll call you tomorrow,
sweetheart."

She nods, and he falls back a step, glancing back at his friends.
A hesitance, telling her he doesn't want to go.

So she goes first, slipping away while he's distracted.

Chapter 28

EJ is drinking when Charlie returns, smelling of whiskey and
smoke. There’s a triumphant flush to the other girl’s cheeks that she wants to
ask about but knows she doesn’t have the right to, so she remains quiet,
tapping at the computer and sipping her vodka.

She can feel Charlie eyeing her but the other girl doesn’t say
anything. She makes a tiny huff, annoyed or a quiet call for attention,
something EJ ignores, and then she slips into the bathroom. The shower turns on
a few minutes later, and some of the tension gathers at the base of EJ’s spine,
curling a tight fist of pain into her shoulders and up into her throbbing head.

They shouldn’t still be this fucking awkward together. Sometimes
she wonders how they function at all, and how the hell they’ll manage in a
fucking Irish castle, with nothing but books and copious amounts of wine to
distract them.

Either the best idea she’s ever had, or the worst.

Probably the worst.

She’s done working, but she’s too tired to move—and it’s comfy here,
in this oversized leather chair that reminds her of the one Grant—stepfather
number two and the one that lasted the longest—had kept in his home office. She
used to sit at it when she was coloring, while Mom read and Grant dozed, his
head in her lap.

It was, she realizes abruptly, one of the happier times of her
life. She’d been young enough to not realize that it was too good to last.

“You’re smiling,” Charlie murmurs. EJ doesn’t even tense at the
sound of her friend. Maybe she’s too drunk—or maybe it doesn’t matter because
what happens between them is the only thing she’s never been able to control.

The variable she didn’t expect.

“Why are you smiling?” Charlie asks, her voice a whisper that she
feels as well as hears. The brush of it against her skin tells her how close
Charlie is, even without her turning to look. They’re a hazy picture in the
glass and gauze curtain, Charlie leaning against the chair that could be a
throne.

“Just thinking about a time I was happy,” she says, her voice
hoarse and wistful.

There’s a long moment where Charlie is quiet, and then, “Are you
happy now?”

Is she? The freedom of her mother’s expectations, of Jacobs’
control, even of the business she’s built for herself—it’s been intoxicating to
be away from that. To be bound by nothing but her own whims. Even with the
pitfalls and danger and the dead bodies—“Yes,” she murmurs.

Because you are
here.

The words hang unspoken and unacknowledged, in the back of her
mind. They settle there, elusive and anxious, but she won’t voice them. Not to
Charlie.

There are some elements of control she won’t give up.

“Everything changes soon,” Charlie murmurs. EJ swallows the urge
to snort softly. Stupid, beautiful girl. Everything has already changed.

She shifts and stands, and Charlie, already close, is suddenly
pressed against her, all of her curves and the thin silk of her robe. Charlie’s
hands close over EJ’s hips, holding her steady and close when EJ would step
back.

This should be easy. So easy. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist
to know what Charlie wants—it’s all there in the pert hard nipples pressed to
the silk robe, the glassy eyes and nervous way she nibbles at her lip, and the
grip on her hip that turns hard so quickly.

“Charlie,” she whispers, and Charlie is kissing her, and she
doesn’t have a fucking chance at control. It’s shattered, breaking under the
soft assault of her lips, slanted over EJ’s, tongue licking into EJ’s mouth.

Her shy, hesitant girl is nowhere to be found, and that thought is
almost as intriguing as the robe that’s parting like water to reveal Charlie,
all soft skin that she wants to spend hours exploring. Charlie’s mouth is still
on hers, catching every stupid noise she makes, and she hates that she’s making
them, that Charlie is playing her so damn well.

She strokes up the other girl’s body until her palms are cupping
Charlie’s breasts, her thumbs stroking over hard nipples. EJ catches one, and
pinches, sharply enough that Charlie cries out, and she drops her head, her
tongue tracing the other nipple, pale pink in the soft light of the room, and
Charlie’s cry this time is breathy and startled, and almost begging for more.

She wants to hear Charlie beg. Until now, hearing the soft whimpers
and the half formed words that spill like nonsense from her, she hadn’t
realized how much she wants to reduce the other girl to a whimpering, begging
wreck of sensation.

EJ smiles, and pulls Charlie to the bed. And despite everything,
there isn’t any hesitation in Charlie as she lays back, only hungry impatience
as she watches EJ strip slowly, until she’s wearing only a pair of lace panties
and she crawls onto the bed, kissing Charlie hard and deep, petting her until
the girl is panting, and then sinking down her body and settling between her
thighs.

“I told you I would finish what I’d started,” she murmured, the
breath of her words brushing against Charlie’s wet pussy. A choked sob answers
her and she smirks, a private thing the other girl doesn’t see, and then EJ
lowers her head and makes Charlie beg.

Chapter 29

EJ hangs up the phone and rolls onto her back. Charlie curls into
her side, warm skin and tousled hair. “Who was it?” she asks, her voice sleep
tinged.

“Frenchie. He’s done. He’ll be here soon to drop everything off.”

Charlie makes a low pouting noise. “Does that mean we have to get
up?”

EJ laughs softly and kisses her forehead before digging her
fingers into Charlie’s sides. The other girl shrieks in protest and flails
away.

“Get up, Charlie,” she says with a grin. “Frenchie is gay but he
isn’t blind.” She ducks into the shower, washing and dressing quickly before
turning her attention to her hair.

Something she’s discovered she loves about short hair is the very
minimal effort she need put into it.

“How do you know Frenchie?” Charlie asks, when she’s out of the
shower and dressed in a sundress, a pale green thing that has a vintage,
innocent sexy look to it.

The dress amuses EJ, because there is nothing innocent about her.

“Jacobs likes to collect people who can be useful. He knows
someone in almost every field. But I met Frenchie when I was in New York City a
few years ago, a business trip Mom’s husband at the time wanted her to go on.
Frenchie was his PA for the trip, and completely wasted at the position. I was
underage, but he made me some fake IDs to get into a club with him while Mom
was out with Barry. We had so much fun, and I realized just how useful he could
be. So I introduced him to Jacobs when we got home. And in a few months, he
quit working for my stepfather and was doing fake IDs and forgeries. He moves
around a lot, to keep his client base growing and away from the authorities,
and also—he likes it. He likes being in new places.”

“If he works for Jacobs, how do you know he won’t turn you over to
him?” Charlie asks.

“Because he knew me first. Frenchie is loyal. Intensely so. But
that loyalty came to me first, and I’m paying him now. He won’t fuck me over.”

Charlie makes a noise in her throat, not quite disbelieving. EJ
ignores her and fluffs her hair as a knock comes at the front door.

Frenchie is on time. Her flighty, irresponsible friend is nothing
but professional efficiency when it comes to his business. Even now, stepping
into the room, he's serious and restrained, that effusive charm she likes so
much reined in while he walks by and sets his briefcase on the hotel desk. He
lays out four manila folders and nods at the girls. "Everything you asked
for."

Charlie glances at EJ who nods once.

The envelopes contain birth certificates,
drivers
licenses from Nevada, Social Security cards, and passports, all so perfectly
done that they could be real. Two sets, for each of them.

“The money is in your account,” EJ says, and Frenchie glances at his
cell phone briefly. Nods.

“Thanks, Frenchie,” EJ says, softly, and his professional demeanor
melts away.

“Be careful,
lil
sis. He’s mad and he’s
dangerous.”

She nods, and Frenchie hugs her quickly before stepping back. “I’m
getting out of town by the end of the week—if you need me, you know how to get
in touch.”

“Of course.”

He studies her for a long moment, before he smiles, and it’s a
little sad. “I won’t see you again, will I?”

Her heart squeezes, a kind of painful thing she didn’t expect.

Walking away is supposed to be easy. No one warned her that when
she did, it would be from friends as well.

“We had a good run, Ellie. Be good.”

She laughs then, and the noise is all wicked and amused. “Where
the hell is the fun in that?”

It happens very quickly, when he’s gone. EJ packs while Charlie
makes flight arrangements. Four tickets in EJ’s names, all
to
different locations. Four in her own. It won’t buy them a lot of time, but
it’ll be enough that if things with Jacobs don’t play out the way the girls
have planned, they have a little time and space to go to ground.

“Did you make the reservations at the Palace?”

Charlie looks up from booking the final flight and nods. “Just go
to the front desk and show
your
ID. It’s authorized
for both of us.”

EJ nods, and types something in her phone. She glances at Charlie.
“When is your flight?”

“Tomorrow afternoon. Yours is tonight—so don’t waste time with
this shit, ok?” A thread of command colors her tone and EJ arches an eyebrow.
There is the not unreasonable fear that EJ will back out, the elephant in the
room that they’re both ignoring.

“Are you ok?” she asks, suddenly. EJ blinks at her and Charlie
flushes.

“You’re going to shoot him.”

“Do you see another way to make this happen?” EJ asks coolly, her
hands shaking slightly at her side. Charlie eyes her.

She looks flawless, utterly gorgeous and dangerously remote.

She looks exactly like she had the day she walked into Charlie’s
office with a cut of the profits from the drugs they sold.

She could still be in Charleston, for all that she’s changed. Her
hair is shorter, and she looks tired, but that’s the extent of the changes.

“Can you do this?”

EJ’s eyes narrow. “What about last night made you think I’m not in
this?”

Charlie flushes, remembering the way EJ’s hands had stroked over
her, fingers digging into her thighs as her mouth moved over her with such
gentle skill she was reduced to begging faster than she had ever thought
possible.

And that was before—she clears her throat and shakes her head. “This
isn’t about last night. This is about right now and you having the balls to go
through with it.”

EJ smiles at her, a tight little thing, and tosses her bag on the
bed. She pulls Charlie to her feet and kisses her, a long deep thing that has
Charlie remembering every fucking thing EJ had done to her last night, and the
way she had looked, so smug and self-satisfied as she coaxed orgasm after
orgasm from Charlie, the way she had looked when she straddled Charlie and
palmed her breasts while Charlie fingered her wet pussy.

“I don’t want you to go alone.” She murmurs against EJ’s lips.

The other girl laughs. “You know why. I need to do this. He
deserves at least this from me. And if things do go bad—you’re safe.”

She’s quiet. There is the fear, deep down that she doesn’t want to
acknowledge. That EJ will change her mind. She’s run before.

“Hey,” EJ murmurs, pulling her chin up until Charlie is staring
into her big green eyes. “Stop thinking so loud. It’s two days—three max. And
then we’re in Ireland, and we’ve got a castle and each other and no one gets to
change that. All the freedom we could ever want. Ok?” She kisses Charlie
quickly before she steps back and grabs her bag. “Now. Get in public and do
your thing. Be safe. And I’ll see you in a few days.”

Charlie nods and EJ stalks to the door. She glances back at her
once, with the door propped open, and smirks. “See you soon, baby girl.”

And then she’s gone and Charlie is left standing in a hotel room
alone, panic and loneliness clawing at her.

Three days.