Wicked Intentions (9 page)

CHAPTER 10

“I vote we sprinkle holy water on it and then set it on fire,” London suggested.

“I don’t think it would burn if we poured water on it,” Shakira reasoned though she didn’t take her eyes off the object of their attention.
It
was now seated, comfortable as you please, in the trash can next to the door where she’d dropped it a few hours ago while she was cleaning up the house.

“Not if we get…” London paused to throw another chip into her mouth. The crunching sound filled the kitchen before she finished, “…that good Jesus juice! I bet Miss Wendy has some stocked up.”

“I think we should read it.” Though the name on the envelope was Charlie’s, the handwriting was also his. Why would Charlie send himself a letter to her apartment?

“Uh uh!” London, who was seated on the kitchen counter next to a standing Shakira, shook her head. “My mama always says don’t step on nobody’s grave, and that sure looks like Charlie’s grave.”

“You don’t even know your mama!”

“You. Are. A. Bitch.” London emphasized each word with a crunch of a crisp. “Fine, go on then…” Crunch. “…Pick it up.”

Shakira didn’t move.

“Ooh, you scared, ain’t you?” London taunted.

“I am not.”

“Pick it up, bitch.” The amusement in London’s voice was clear as day. Shakira regretted even telling her about the letter in the first place. She’d only done it to stem London’s teasing about her moving in with her ‘boy-toy’. Shakira had briefly considered packing up and leaving, but it seemed ungrateful especially considering how Nathan had reacted to her last hasty exit. She was willing to wait and talk.

“Fine, I’ll pick it up.” Shakira threw at London.

“Fine.”

“I’m going in.” Shakira straightened from the counter.

“Wait, wait!” London hopped off the counter and rushed to the door leading to the outside balcony. “I want to be near an exit point when Charlie’s ghost jumps out of it.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Shakira rolled her eyes as she walked towards the basket. She couldn’t really see London jumping from the second floor balcony – but then again it was the little ones who could surprise you.

“Taran taran, taran, taran taran taran, taran taraaaaan tararan,” London hummed the ominous Pink Panther danger tune under her breath.

Shakira bent and picked up the envelope, holding it gingerly between her thumb and index finger. She almost dropped it when something moved inside the envelope, running from its top to the bottom. When she had it firmly in her grasp again, she turned and waved the envelope at London. “See, no ghosts.”

“You need to watch more horror movies.” London made no move to get back into the kitchen. “It’s when you open the letter that they jump out.”

“Okay, let’s open it then.” Shakira tore off the top of the letter – no ghosts sprung out. She pulled out a folded sheet of plain paper and then set the envelope on the counter.

London was by her side in the blink of an eye. “What’s it say?”

“I thought you were afraid of his ghost?” Shakira unfolded the paper.

Ignoring Shakira’s question, London read the only two words on the paper. “Free card.” Her brow wrinkled, echoing the confusion that Shakira was feeling. “What does that mean?”

“I have no idea.”

London kissed her teeth, “He wastes his time writing from the grave and all he has to say is ‘Free card’? This nigga! He should have at least sent his teeth or something.”

“Ew.” Shakira winced as she reached for the envelope. That better
not
be Charlie’s tooth that had moved in there. Cautiously she peeked in, her head bumping against London’s, and spotted the small rectangular metal encased in blue transparent plastic.

London gasped, “Ghosts know how to use thumb drives?”

“When did you get so superstitious?” Shakira asked as she shook out the thumb drive. It dropped onto her palm soundlessly.

“I’m from New Orleans, baby. It’s in the genes,” London said. “Well, are we going to check it out or what?”

“What if the ghosts jump out the computer screen?” Shakira teased as they walked to the living room where she’d set up her laptop.

“You’re right!” London agreed. “We need to pray first.”

She launched into enthusiastic prayer that was punctuated with plenty of yeses and calls for the Lord to protect them from Charlie’s sweater-vest clad demon. By the time she was done, Shakira was holding her stomach as her body heaved in unrestrained laughter. London merely gave her a raised eyebrow then snatched the thumb-drive from Shakira’s hand. She plugged the drive into the laptop.

It took a while for the computer to recognize the foreign object. When it did, Shakira tapped on it. Instead of revealing its contents a dialogue box opened up requesting a password.

“O-okay!” Shakira stared at the screen in puzzlement.

“Try guessing,” London suggested.

“I have no idea what it is,” Shakira said but she typed in Charlie’s middle name. The dialogue password immediately returned a ‘wrong password. She tried his birthday, his birth sign, his mother’s name – same result.

London also helpfully offered up some suggestions. “Imacheater” “Rochelleisaslut.” “Thatbitchprobablykilledme” “orgavemeanSTD”

Shakira laughed. “I don’t think any of those will work.”

Hours later they still hadn’t figured it out. It was a struggle to get London out of the house and on her way to the salon but the girl needed money. If Amani and Farah kicked her out of their shared house because of her pending rent, Shakira couldn’t help her out. Once London was gone, Shakira logged into her freelance account.

“Yes.” She pumped her fists up in excitement when she found that one of the bids she’d made had come through. It was only a one hundred and thirty dollar contract to help some guy out with his tax forms, but in her current situation one hundred and thirty dollars was like stumbling on a gold mine.

She was three quarter way done with the work when she looked up at the clock, only to realize that in about an hour Nathan would be back home. Her heart lurched in excitement as her lips curled in an instinctive smile. She couldn’t wait to see him again. Hopping to her feet, she headed to the kitchen. Supper was the least she could make for him considering all that he’d done for her.

The delicious smell of chicken cooking hailed Nathan as soon as he opened the door. It taunted and tempted him, niggling at his senses and wetting his appetite. His belly growled in hunger as the rest of his body lit up in excitement. She was still here.

Shakira!

He knew he shouldn’t have been so excited. Having her so close to him was dangerous when she was who she was. She shouldn’t be here and he shouldn’t be glad she was. But if there was switch to control his emotions, he still hadn’t found it. He couldn’t stop the instinctive urge to protect her when he’d found her in her car or the need to soothe away her tears. It would’ve taken a bulldozer to keep him from holding her through the night and making sure she was safe.

He’d watched the shows where people talked of being cat-fished and he’d always laughed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. This is how it happened. The only plus side about this situation was that he was aware of what was going on. Maybe Shakira’s staying here wasn’t such a bad thing after all. Bringing her to his house had been instinct, but he could turn it into strategy.

Finally he could have his fill of her and seduce the truth from her at the same time. Men and women were built different. While women formed an emotional connection after sex, men just got bored – so the experts said. He would satiate himself until he had her out of his system. When she finally showed her cards, he’d be watching, thinking straight and ready to take her down. And he’d be able to walk away when the time came.

Yes! He’d be able to walk away!

He shrugged out of his leather jacket throwing it on the couch before making his way to the kitchen. Her back was to the door as she flipped the sizzling meat on the pan. She didn’t hear him and it gave him a chance to observe her.

Damn, she was beautiful! Shakira was the only woman he knew who could make a grey t-shirt, yellow short-shorts and bare feet look even sexier than the frilliest of lingerie. He knew how pliable the body underneath all those clothes was, how her small waist felt in his hands and how it felt to have those long legs wrapped around his flanks. His fingers itched to unravel the ponytail braid that she’d drawn her thick hair into and spread it across her naked skin. He settled for crossing the expanse of the kitchen to stand behind her.

She jumped when he pressed his chest to her shoulder blades. She pressed a palm to her breast while her head turned sharply and anxious eyes met his. Taking in a sharp breath, she gasped, “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” His attention was on her lush lips. Today at work, they were all he could think of, along with the warmth of her body and how right it felt to be near her.

“I didn’t even know you were back,” she said.

“I’m back.” He bent his head to place his lips on hers. It was only meant to be a quick ‘hello’ kiss but then she turned in his arms it morphed into so much more. He took her mouth, enjoying the slight taste of chicken and lemon that lingered on her breath and her quick response to him. Her tongue darted into his mouth to tango with his in a mating dance. The more he tasted her, the more he wanted and his lips hardened on hers.

Her whimper of response and the seductive smoothing of her palm along his arms and shoulders were enough to make him gather her tightly against him. Her breasts were sealed so tightly against his broad chest that he could feel the aroused points digging into him.
Jesus
. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His cock lengthened in response and he pressed it against her stomach. Her response was a roll of her taut tummy that had him groaning in her mouth. “Shakira,”

He lowered his hands to her ass, ready to carry her somewhere where he could strip her of her clothes and have his fill of her. If it wasn’t for the sudden popping sound behind them, he probably would have too. Shakira yanked her mouth from his and turned. “The food.”

“Damn,” he mumbled in disappointment. He kept his hands on her hips even as she turned to full face the cooker and fiddle with the chicken.

Maybe she could push away her passion that easily but Nathan couldn’t. Burning with need, he buried his forehead in her hair and pressed his swollen dick on the small of her back.

“Nathan,” she protested. “I’m cooking.”

He wasn’t beyond begging. “Please, baby!”

“Later,” she said but she didn’t swat his hand away when he fit it beneath the waist band of her shorts and panties or as he smoothed his palm over the tight curls covering her mound. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp when he fit two fingers between her pussy lips.

“You’re already wet for me,” he whispered when her slick heat covered his fingers. Only a shrapnel of common sense made him reach towards the cooker with his free hand and switch off the burner. He was hungry but not for food.

“Nathan, stop,” she whimpered but spread her legs to give him easier access. He flicked her nub and earned himself a slow twirl of her hips. He bent his knees, needing to feel that movement. When the rounded globes of her ass rubbed against his cock, Nathan nearly came in his pants.

This was insanity. What was it about this woman that had him behaving like a young school-boy, frantic to get in her pants and holding on by only a thin thread? What was it about her that made him want to hold her – made him want to crawl into her skin and become a part of her? He needed her out of his system.

Her erotic movements and pussy opening up under his ministrations chased away any rational thoughts. He inched his hand beneath her t-shirt and up to her tit, molding the firm flesh and worrying her clit as she ground against his cock. The moment he pushed one finger into her tight pussy, she arched her back, pressing her head into his shoulder.

“Shit,” he groaned. She was so tight, so warm, so wet. He needed to get in there.

Her body was on her fire. The flames of desire licked at her, unforgiving in their determination to break down any thoughts she might’ve had of stopping him. Shakira was too far gone to protest when Nathan dragged her shorts and her panties down her legs and threw them to the corner of the kitchen or when he carried her away from the cooker and towards the counter. She propped her arms on the cold marble only vaguely hearing the sound of a zipper being lowered.

“Shit,” Nathan cuss drew her hazy attention to him. He looked as desperate as she felt. His lips were drawn in a tight line as he stared at his wallet, while his cock jutted out of his pants, the deep red and purple veins pulsing in need. He bent to the floor to pick up the condom that must’ve dropped in his haste to get to her. Standing up he threw his wallet to the counter but it landed on the floor. He didn’t bother to pick it up. His fingers shook and his movements were jerky as he tore open the packet and then sheathed the long hard pillar of his desire.

Shifting closer to her and bracketing her in his arms, he tilted her head to the side and then pressed his lips against hers in a heady kiss. Shakira opened up her mouth, taking his tongue and everything else he had to give. Their kiss was as frantic as it was heated, fanning the desire between them like gasoline to an already raging fire. The sheathed head of his cock bumped against her ass and Shakira rose to her toes. It slipped in between her legs easily and Nathan took over. He pushed into her.