Wicked Intentions (14 page)

A message from Nathan beeped on her phone.
Where are you?

Store. On my way tho.
She tapped out her reply as she pushed the trolley forward with her leg.

Want me to come get you?

Nah. S’okay. Just a few minutes anyway.
She sent it then arranged her shopping on the cashier’s counter. Her phone beeped indicating another message but Shakira ignored as she kept her eye on the calculator. She’d never gotten over the habit of watching over every cent she spent.

“That will be thirty seven fifty,” the cashier said with a smile. Shakira handed her the money. With a few quick key strokes her bill was paid.

“Thank you,” Shakira said as she dropped a healthy tip in the Red Cross jar. While she waited for the attendant to pack up her bag, she swiped her phone again to check Nathan’s message.

OK. Hurry home. Miss you :-)

She smiled and typed out her answer.
‘kay.

Lugging the heavy bag in one hand, Shakira exited the store. It was only once she stepped outside that she realized how dark it really was. There were no stars or moon to lighten the dark skies. With very few people on foot, there was only the streetlights above and ominous silence punctuated by patchy sounds of cars flying by to keep her company. Shakira had walked this way a lot of times so it didn’t really bother her.

That is, until she felt it!

Her senses prickled and the hairs on the nape of her neck rose in sudden alarm.

Shakira whipped her head backwards in automatic response, but noticed nothing strange except for a black SUV slowing down behind her.

It’s just my imagination
.

But the feeling wouldn’t go away if anything it intensified with goose-bumps crowding on her skin even though she was wrapped up in a jacket and jeans. When she turned again, the truck was still there, driving slowly behind her.

Was it following her?

She watched it uneasily. With darkness fully fallen and its windows tinted, she couldn’t see inside it. She stood still, waiting for it to pass by but SUV stopped moving. Her heart started pounding faster then. Ignoring its furious beat, she started walking again. The car started moving too.

Her footsteps sped up. It sped up too.

Shakira started running.

CHAPTER 15

Shakira sprung forward with quick steps. She could taste her own fear on her tongue. Its bitter pungent taste sent rippling alarms through her nerves and activated her body into flight response. Her pulse accelerated with each running step she took, heat pooled on her skin and her breath came in short sharp quiet gulps as her breasts rose and fell with the vigor of her movements.

And the black truck matched her step for step.

One more building. One more building.

She desperately urged her body not to give in as she pumped her legs faster. Her muscles screamed with pain, the sting further exacerbated by the constant and painful knock of the heavy shopping bag against her right leg as she ran.

The black truck sped up too, tracking her with the intensity of a predator toying with its prey. Who was in there? Why were they following her? Shakira didn’t have the time to care; her only aim was to get away from the car prowling hungrily behind her.

Her breath came out in whoosh of relief when she turned the corner that led to their building giving renewed energy to her body. With a few speedy steps and a gulp of victorious air, Shakira lunged forward through the entrance – and hurtled straight into someone else.

“Oomph!” Shakira staggered backwards.

“Watch it!” The prissy blonde from number fifteen warded her off with raised hands and a scowl.

“Sorry,” Shakira gasped, only barely noticing that the blonde was in running gear, as she scooted further into the well-lit foyer. Pulse still pounding fast, she turned to stare into the darkness in search of the SUV. It pulled up in a spot just in front of the building.

Noticing Shakira’s furtive actions, the blonde’s face creased in concern. “Are you okay?”

Shakira didn’t answer. She darted towards the wall adjacent to the entrance so that whoever was in the car wouldn’t see her. The blonde mimicked her movements, coming to stand behind Shakira. They both cocked their bodies, the better to peer around the corner.

“What are we watching for?” the blonde whispered.

“That black truck,” Shakira pointed out with a finger as she deliberately relaxed her still taut muscles. The blonde strained to see the truck. Shakira added, “It’s been following me.”

“Oh, shit! The window’s coming down,” the blonde gasped. It sure was. With menacing sluggishness, the driver-side window dipped downwards revealing a dark head of hair – and then a familiar face!

“That’s it!” Wayne pointed a threatening finger at Agent Ruxton. “He’s done.”

“I’m sorry.” Karyn winced as if in physical pain as she added, “I don’t know what he was thinking-”

“I don’t care what the hell he was thinking.” Wayne exploded out of his seat, then began to pace behind it. “All I care about is the fact that he was skulking around in the dark like a fucking stalker scaring Shakira.”

“I’m sorry,” Karyn apologized again. Shakira, who was seated on the couch watching the tense interaction between the two, couldn’t help but muse that that was all Karyn ever seemed to do; apologize for her partner’s indiscretions. The female agent pleaded, “Look, Wayne. You can’t take this forward. The higher-ups already think he’s crazy with this Fenton thing and he’s on his last leg. Please-”

“Why the hell should I care if he’s on his last leg?” Wayne’s face grew red. “My client is the one being harassed. If Gates thinks he’s going to get away with this bullshit he’s got a long thing coming his way and as well as a stint in county.”

Shakira almost clapped in appreciation at his performance. Wayne’s anger seemed so real – considering that they’d rehearsed it before Karyn’s arrival. As soon as she’d gotten home and diverted Nathan’s concern with an excuse that her anxiety was only because of the darkness, she’d called Wayne. He was even more irritated than she was that Gates was following her around. He’d urged her to come to his office in the morning and when she did, suggested that instead of going straight to the FBI, they use it as leverage to resolve her case.

Karyn’s eyes widened in alarm at Wayne’s threat. “You can’t do that. He’ll be fired.”

“He deserves worse.”Wayne’s eyes glittered darkly before he began reeling in Karyn, “But I could be convinced to postpone our visit your offices.”

Karyn’s eyes turned to slits. “What do you mean
convinced
?”

“Shakira, why don’t you give the agent and I a minute?”

Soundlessly and without protest, Shakira exited the office and walked to the reception. She already knew how the conversation between Wayne and Karyn was going to go. As much as the encounter last night had been scary, at least it was good for something.

While the storm brewed in Wayne’s office, she sat on the white leather couch observing the firm’s bustle. As she watched the sharply dressed lawyers march by her, engrossed in their tasks and their expressions alternating between intent and exhausted, she realized that she didn’t miss the busyness that came with working a nine to five.

Her life before incarceration had been a monotonous cycle of wake up, eat, make money, sleep, wake up, eat, make money… on and on with maybe a break here and there to socialize. The numbers she loved so much had lined up in front of her eyes every day blurred one into another until one accounting assignment was just the same as the next and just a way to pad her bank account.

Even Charlie had become just another part of that tedious cycle; pre-scheduled two times a week dates and a text message or a phone call each night to recap the unexciting day she’d had. Maybe that was what had led him into Rochelle’s arms. The monotony and boredom!

Shakira had been living on auto-pilot with no real passions.

Losing her job had been like a breath of fresh air. Necessity being the mother of invention, it’d forced her to look for other sources of income and now she got to choose jobs that excited her. Monday she’d helped a restaurant align their accounts and create new budgets so they wouldn’t have to cut back on staff. Today she was working on helping a recently graduated Wall Street woman figure out how to work her money so that she could make her payments as quick as possible. Who knew what she’d be doing tomorrow.

Numbers were fun again.

Combined with the entrance of Nathan in her life and the unpredictability of their relationship, Shakira had to admit that her days had become more interesting. All she had to do now was find a passion for herself to fill up the free time that her new career direction provided. London had her music – maybe hers was theater. Nah! Writing? Boring! Adrenalin sports? Bloody hell no! She was too young to die.

She smiled. She’d find it. Just as soon as she got her money back.

I might even get it back today.

Her hopes of that happening were sent smashing to the ground as soon as she walked back into Wayne’s office.

“Karyn doesn’t have that kind of clout,” Wayne explained as he sat down at his desk. “Only her supervisor can authorize the unfreezing of your account.”

“Oh.” Shakira’s soft sigh of disappointment filled the room.

“But she assures me that she’ll keep Gates away from you,”

“I guess that’s something.” She nodded despondently.

With a grin at her, Wayne said, “It’s nothing compared to all the information she gave me.” He took a deep breath before he plunged in, “A few months ago, the FBI stumbled on a baseball match-fixing case. There was no real proof or even faces to match into it, only the voices of disgruntled players. Most law enforcement agencies took it as just the whining of sore losers but the FBI was sufficiently intrigued to send in Gates and his partner, Fenton.

With Gates acting as support, Fenton went in undercover as the head honcho of a gambling ring interested in getting a few matches fixed. Through Fenton’s street contacts they got an address. The FBI thought they were onto something and authorized an exchange and grab. Fenton went in carrying three hundred thousand dollars. He never came back out. His contact disappeared so did he and the money,” Wayne finished.

Surprised, Shakira asked, “He was killed?”

“Or so Gates claims,” he said. “But there’s no proof. Their supervisors think it’s more likely that Fenton simply took the money and ran. Apparently, he was in some serious mortgage debt and owed his ex a couple months child support. Some think that Gates is involved too because how could he possibly not know that his partner was dirty. I figure that Karyn’s as much his babysitter as she is a spy for management.”

Shakira searched his face, “How…why do they think that I’m even connected to this?”

“The money was marked.” Wayne paused before plunging the knife in. “They found sixteen thousand of it in Charlie’s account and four thousand in yours. Since Charlie had more of the money, they were preparing to bring him in when he oh so conveniently died.”

Her eyes widened at the realization that Charlie had repaid her with dirty money.

“So they th…the…” she stumbled at the thought even crossing her mind. It was not possible. She swallowed. “So they think that Charlie and I were involved with this…this match fixing ring?”

“That’s one theory. Considering the evidence presented during your trial, FBI think Fenton killed Charlie then walked out with the money and left you holding the bag for their sins.” Wayne’s gaze scoured her face as he added, “Gates says you killed both Fenton so you could keep the money and then Charlie to shut him up.”

Good God! Somehow Shakira managed not to faint. All the information being shoved at her was so unbelievable. Any which way she looked at it, she came out smelling like a villain. And it was all because of her connection to Charlie

She chose her words carefully. “Do you think Charlie and Fenton were involved?”

“How could they not be?” Wayne shrugged. “Otherwise how could he have gotten the money? Rochelle had agreed to talk to the FBI, but she’s also disappeared.”

This was all too much for Shakira. Multiple questions played on her mind as she drove home but primary of them was:

Charlie?

Involved in a match fixing ring?

Impossible.
An image of him smiling at her shyly as he adjusted his glasses and then straightened out his sweater vest filled her mind.
No way.
There was just no way he was capable of something so wicked.

But then again she’d never thought he was capable of cheating on her, had she?

CHAPTER 16

As soon as Shakira got home, she headed straight for her room. Opening her duffel bag she patted the bottom until she found Charlie’s thumb-drive. She had to find out what was on that drive. Maybe it would explain what the hell was going on and what Charlie had been involved in.

Logic said to give the thumb-drive to the FBI but she didn’t really trust them. As far as she was concerned they were neck-deep in this thing, what with one agent on the lamb and another having turned psycho stalker. No! Even if she was giving it to them she needed to know what was on it and if possible make a copy to protect herself if things went south. She settled in the living room with a laptop and a notepad, keying in every password she could think of.

She tried his birthday.
51085

She tried his mother’s name.
Louisa.

She tried his middle name.
Ambrose.

She tried his mother’s name and his birthday.
Louisa51085

Zilch. Nada. No results. Anything she could think of she threw at the thumb-drive but it was unyielding, determined to keep its secrets to itself. By the time five p.m. came, she was ready to throw her laptop….okay, not her laptop because she needed it for money…Charlie’s stupid thumb-drive against the wall.

On edge, she placed her laptop on the coffee table and stood with the intention of getting herself on energy drink. She was just about to head for the kitchen when her phone vibrated on the table. Bending to pick it, she was surprised to see that the number lighting up the screen was a foreign one. Her face screwed in confusion, she swiped the screen and pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Baby,” an excited voice squealed into the phone.

Shakira was too shocked to respond.

“Guess where I am,” her mother shrieked over the line.

“Eve?” Shakira asked tentatively not quite believing that it was her.

“I’m in Jamaica. Jaaaaaamaica,” Eve hooted gleefully. From the unnatural pep in her voice, it was more like ‘high in Jamaica’. She added, “Damon’s shooting the video for his next song over here and wanted me to star in it.”

Shakira was quiet for a whole five seconds. When she finally spoke, her voice was deathly calm. “You’re in Jamaica?”

“Can you imagine these niggas wanted me to act as the mother of the girl being hit on?” Eve complained. “You know I ain’t old enough to be nobody’s mother. I kicked up a fuss, told Damon’s yellow ass that he could blow himself for the rest of the trip and all that. Eventually they cast me as her friend. The video’s being released in December. Yas.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Shakira said though her voice sounded anything but happy.

“Thank you.” Eve was oblivious to Shakira’s cold responses. “Honey, you should see the beaches here. They’re amazing. You should come.”

Was Eve serious or joking because this conversation seemed too surreal to be reality. Shakira looked around the room to see if there were any hidden cameras because this had to be a gag Eve was playing on her. When no Ashton Kutchers jumped out from behind the sofa, she stared at her phone like it’d grown wings.

“Honey, I’m serious.” Eve drew Shakira’s attention back to the phone call. “Take the next flight. You could be here by tomorrow.”

“I don’t have any money to go anywhere, least of all Jamaica.” Shakira was shocked that she managed to even choke out that number of words because all she wanted to do was reach through the phone and smack Eve.

“Why?” Eve sounded confused. “I thought you were doing that job as a…” She paused as if racking her brains for an answer. She must have pulled her next words out of her ass because she airily finished with, “…as a salesgirl.”

“No, I wasn’t.” Shakira didn’t even bother to correct her. Her mother would probably forget her profession by the time this call was over anyway.

“You work too hard.” Eve clucked like a mother hen. “You deserve a holiday.”

“Eve…” Despite her urge to scream bloody murder, Shakira kept her voice even as she asked, “…why don’t you send me my money first so I can take that holiday?”

“What money?” Eve’s voice rose like she was genuinely shocked. But before Shakira could call her out for her nonsense, she rushed to add, “Anyway, Damon says hi. I just wanted to check up on you. I’ll buy you a bikini. Bye.”

With that the woman ended the phone call.

That did not just happen
. Shakira stared at the now inactive phone in shock expecting it to light up and then her mother to come back on screaming ‘
Psyche. Just kidding
’. No such thing happened. The phone stayed silent and when she tried to call the number it went straight to voicemail.

Eve was
not
serious.

Shakira clapped her hands repeatedly as she paced the length of the living room. “Jamaica? Jamaica? Jamaica?” Her voice rose with each word.

Eve was in Jamaica getting her video vixen on and getting high on God knows what while Shakira was practically homeless. What about that heartfelt apology letter? What about the promises to get Shakira her money as soon as possible? Shakira knew that this was just standard Eve, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. By the time Nathan got home she was still angrily cussing Eve out to the empty house.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he set his car keys on the side-table.

“Eve called.” Shakira pointed to the screen of her phone. The disbelief in her voice was obvious as she added, “She’s in Jamaica.”

Nathan’s eyes widened. “She is?”

“I’m going to kill her,” Shakira ranted as she threw her phone on the couch. “I’m not even kidding, Nathan, I’m going to kill her.” She was so angry that the words just poured out unchecked. “She leases my house out. Then runs off with practically every cent panting after some stupid rapper, leaving me here homeless and scrambling to find your money. Now she has the balls to call me and brag about being on a beach in JAMAICA?”

Shakira chuckled but it sounded more like an angry grunt.

“Calm down, baby,” Nathan made a step towards her but Shakira waved him away. She didn’t want to be touched – not when she was feeling this way. There was every chance she’d take out her anger on him and this was not his fault.

“Ooh!” She fanned herself in a bid to cool the heat that her anger had built. It didn’t work and she peeled her tank top over her head and threw it on the couch. “Eve?”

“Did she say if she was coming back?”

Shakira didn’t answer him. Instead she crossed over to the couch and sat on it. Tapping her bare feet on the carpeted floor, she muttered, “Eve. Eve. Eve. EVE.”

Nathan was having one of those stare-at-the-cracks-in-the-ceiling nights, only there were no cracks on the ceiling, just those on his theory about Shakira being a part of her mother’s scheme. Her anger at Eve had been undeniable and he knew that if he checked the footage from the surveillance it would show that she wasn’t lying about the phone-call. She’d been telling the truth all along. She was just as much a victim as he was, if not more.

To say he felt like a fool – a callous fool - was an understatement.

Shakira’s breath fanned over his skin, her head rising and falling with the movement of his chest. It’d taken a while for her anger to run its course and by the time she let him touch her, she’d tired out herself. She’d sluggishly let him put her to bed still muttering Eve’s name.

Considering that he’d gone to bed without dinner, Nathan should’ve been hungry. However, the only pangs beating down at his door at this hour were the guilty ones wrenching on his conscious. He felt like an asshole for misreading Shakira like that. Scratch that – he was an asshole. While she was trying to make the best out of the situation they’d found themselves in, he was busy scheming and plotting.

“Mm.” Shakira shifted in her sleep tucking her nose into the crook of his neck and fitting her leg between his. Nathan’s arm tightened protectively around her. Though the room was shrouded in shadows, he could still see her face. He traced the lines with his gaze before lowering his head and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

How could he have been so wrong?

He should’ve known that she was innocent! He’d let his ego guide his actions instead of his instincts and they’d misled him. The only saving grace was that Shakira had no idea about the extent of his suspicion and everything he’d done to satisfy it. He didn’t even want to think of what would’ve happened if she knew.

Maybe I should come clean.

Nah!
He nixed the idea as soon as it popped up. If her reaction to the handbag incident was any indication, Shakira wouldn’t take it well. There was no good way to spin everything he’d done. It looked bad on and
off
paper. From deliberately engineering their one night stand, setting a PI on her, dating her to dig for more information, bringing her into his house so that he could seduce the truth from her, planting cameras around the house –
Shit
!

It looked nasty as hell.

No sane woman would take it well. Shakira would be out the door before he even finished telling the truth. No! At this point the truth would only hurt her and that was the last thing he wanted to do.

“We’ll start afresh,” his whispered words floated in the dark.

As soon as morning came, he was going to make sure Randall took out the cameras. Any following the PI did from now on was only for protection, not investigation. If he wanted information he’d ask Shakira and get the answers he needed straight from her.

Yes, that was what he’d do.

But he’d never tell Shakira, after all what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

No harm done.

What was going on with Nathan?

Shakira wondered three days later as she stood in the shower. The warm water jetted from the shower head above, soothing over her body but not her thoughts.

Really, what was going on with him?

Ever since the day her mother had called, he’d been…different. Something seemed to have subtly shifted in their relationship. There were more dates, flower and gift deliveries, more touching…and the sharing. Where before she was always the one sharing bits of her past with him, these days he was the one doing all opening up, from his childhood memories, to being part of such a prolific family, to his dreams for
Extreme Expressions
.

Not that she didn’t appreciate it - she did - but it set her antennae on edge.

From her experience most people behaved extra nicely when they were over-compensating for their sins. What did Nathan feel guilty about? Sifting through her purse. She didn’t think so. There was a lot more to this than just getting caught with his hand in the proverbial cooking jar.

Then there was also the little details in the stories, he shared. He’d acted like he didn’t know anything about New York during their previous dates, yet from his stories it was obvious he was as much a native as she was. In fact their family home was in Long Island. It was just a small fact but it kept niggling at her. Though she hid it well, her woman’s instincts were flaring like fire alarms sending warning signals. Something was going on here.

She was so intent on her thoughts that she didn’t hear the shower door opening. She only felt the cold breeze wafting in and opened her eyes. Nathan stood at the door, a flush mantling his cheeks, his nose flaring slightly as his eyes caroused down her body and then up again.

“Mind if I join you?”

She stood there and stared at him with the yellow washcloth pressed against her upper chest. She felt caught, fascinated by the expanse of his naked chest, the line of hair that licked his taut stomach, the powerful muscular thighs that framed the black triangle of hair encircling his cock. She licked her suddenly dry lips.

Shakira really wanted to deny him but she couldn’t have refused even if she wanted to. Her body had already started humming, intent on ignoring all the signals her mind was sending it.
You can be suspicious and still get some
, her already weeping pussy convinced. She verbalized her body’s needs. “I don’t mind.”

Nathan strode naked towards hers.

“I love your body,” he said thickly, his eyes intent on her breasts whose tips had already puckered up in arousal. “I love how you react to me.” Tagging the washcloth from her fist and hanging it on the rail, he dragged her arms away from her body, opening her up for his observation. “Let me see.”

His expression was blindly sensual as his eyes devoured her body.

Reaching for the soap, he soaped his hands and then threw it back to enclave on the wall. His soapy hands closed on her breasts. Shakira inhaled sharply, jerking with shock as his grasp on her flesh tightened.

“Nathan.” She closed her eyes and arched backwards at the indescribable sensations that shot through her as Nathan’s hands moved over her breasts massaging and then gently pinching the tips. With one hand he drew her away from the water’s path while his other continued to wreak havoc on her body.

This was wrong – so wrong. How could she be so suspicious of him yet still be so turned on by him? Her body should be shutting him out but it couldn’t, she couldn’t. Nathan seemed to have some hidden knowledge of what she wanted and needed even before she did, befuddling her common sense.