Female Intuition

A/N: ok.. here's chapter 2. someone commented that they were confused by the end of the last chapter.. GOOD! you were supposed to be. hopefully chapter two can clear it up a little. Again.. i own nothing. Don't sue me.


Shea sat up with a start. Her body was icy cold, but sweaty. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness slowly and she remembered where she was. It was near daybreak and bluish light came through the French doors. Turning over, she could see that there was a depression in the sheets beside her, but no Jackson, though she could smell his cigarette smoke still lingering in the air. Shea yawned and threw the covers back. As she rose from the bed, she pulled Jackson’s discarded shirt around her shoulders, pausing briefly to smell his spiced shampoo-y scent that was impregnated into the fabric. It comforted her now, when her thoughts were so dark.

Something was wrong. This terrible feeling of dread was washing over her, the more awake she became. Remnants of the her nightmare lingered in the recesses of her consciousness and refused to let go. Most nightmares were nearly forgotten by the time you opened your eyes, but this one seemed to grow in detail and daunting. She crossed to the French doors and opened them wide, stepping onto the balcony. The rising sun made crackled sparkles on the lake outside Masterson’s house. She could see Jackson standing on the end of the dock, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the early morning gloam. She had seen this enough times to recognize the ripples in the middle of the water. Masterson was properly sleeping with the fishes. Now all they had to do was clean up their mess, lock the door behind them, and take separate cars to separate planes. She knew the drill. Everything was just as it should be. Only this hollow fear of dying held her in it’s grasp.

As soon as the ripples disappeared, Jackson turned, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the lake as he made his way back up the hill to the house. Shea watched him for a minute, examining every stride, predicting every brush of his hands through his hair in the breeze coming off of the water.

She turned and began stripping the sheets off of the bed. Everything had to look as it was before they got there. Not that they would ever be caught-- their clients were well connected and had money to burn. They could leave fingerprints and a picture ID at the house and no one would even question them. But that was part of the deal, no traces. Nothing out of place.

“Finally… I thought I was going to have to get the ice bucket,” Jackson said, coming through the bedroom door. “We have to get out of here before someone notices us. I mean, I don’t know if you saw Masterson, but we look nothing alike. And with a mug like that, I’m sure he wasn’t doing much entertaining of the opposite sex.”

“Probably not,” she replied, her tone low and expressionless.

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked, flopping down in a chair by the balcony doors. “You sound weird.”

“Weird how?” she asked, folding pillowcases.

“Why are you folding those? We’re just going to throw them in the lake on the way out. “ He lit another cigarette and dragged deeply on it. “Weird like you’re all serious. Again. Lighten up, Shea. I hate it when you get like this.”

“Yeah. Okay.” she replied, balling up the sheets and throwing them into the corner. “Whatever you say, Jackson.” She stopped, looking at him quizzically. “I’m just-- I’m just going to take a shower.”

“Sounds fabulous. I’ll be in there in a while.”

“No,” she said, a little too forcefully. “I’d just -- I’d rather be alone for a while.”

Jackson gave a sort of halfway, confused smile and stood up, walking over and blocking the doorway to the bathroom. “Are you keeping something from me, Shea?”

Shea backed up a little, looking up at him through lowered lids. “No,” she croaked., swallowing a lump in her throat. “I--- I’m--” She wanted to tell him what was on her mind, but she just couldn’t figure out how to say it without sounding completely out of her tree. And even after all this time, Jackson still scared the shit out of her sometimes. “I’m just tired. That’s all. I didn’t sleep very well and its just been one job after another.”

He looked sympathetic and smoothed her longish curls out of her eyes. “I know. You’ve been going non-stop for weeks. But after tomorrow, it’ll all be over. One last job, Shea, and we’re out. For good.” He hugged her tightly against him, kissing the top of her head affectionately. “Hang on just a little while longer, baby.”

“Listen, Jackson, about that--” She pulled back from him and sat down on the freshly-made bed, holding his hands and looking up at him. “Couldn’t someone else take care of it?”

“Not really… why do you ask?”

“I -- I have a really bad feeling about this. I just… I don’t think you should go through with it. You personally. Donovan could take care of it. And we’ve been apart for so long… I’d really like for us to be done and alone. Lying on the beach. Mimosas and cigarettes for breakfast.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his stomach.

“And we will be… after tomorrow. But everything will be fine. You’ll see. I have everything under control. Like I always do.”

“That’s just it, Jackson. Something is wrong here-- something you can‘t control.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know it. Its just a feeling. Call it female intuition.” She looked up at him, her green eyes pleading, “Please, Jackson. For me?”

“I can’t do that, Shea. I have to be the one to mark Riseart’s daughter. I’m the only one that knows her. I’ve been following her for weeks.”

“I’ve read her file, Jackson. Let me go. I’ll do it.”

Jackson laughed and turned away from her, going to the door to throw the smoldering cigarette butt out the window. “It wouldn’t work, Shea. She wouldn’t respond to you the same way.”

“Are you saying that I can’t be a sadistic bitch?” Shea raised her eyebrow and smirked.

“No, I’m saying you can’t be a boy. She has to like me. Trust me. I have to seduce her into doing what I want. Otherwise, everything will go to shit fast. Holding someone hostage in public without a gun is a very delicate business, Shea. It has to be me. Everything will be fine. Trust me.”

“It’s so easy to say that, Jackson. But harder to do.” She pushed past him, knocking into his shoulder intentionally. “Your arrogance is going to get you in trouble someday. He moved to follow her, but she slammed the door to the bathroom in his face, clicking the lock audibly.

“As long as it’s not tomorrow,” he shouted through the door.

*******************************************************

Shea fumbled with her keys, trying to pull them out of her shoulder bag one-handed. She could hear her and Jackson’s dog going out of his mind on the other side of the door. “Damn… if only we could teach Igor to open the door..” She finally had to drop one of the bags on the stoop to get the door open. As soon as the door was open, the enormous Dalmatian jumped up on her, his paws on either shoulder. “Igor--” she groaned, trying to push him down, “you have to let me in the house.”

Shea dragged the rest of the bags into the foyer and kicked the front door closed, sighing with contentment. Home. Finally. She immediately sat down on the floor, rolling around with Igor. “Did Elke come everyday to feed you?” she asked the dog in a babyish voice. She laughed as the dog licked her face. She could hear her cell phone ringing in her bag, somewhere in the mess of bags strewn by the door. Igor ran over to the bag and began rooting through the pockets for the offending ringing. “Find the phone, Igor… find the phone.” She laughed as the dog retrieved the phone and held it between his teeth. Pulling the phone away, she flipped it open and held it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Shea? Is that you?” Jackson’s smooth voice purrred through the earpiece.

“Who else would it be, darling? Igor?”

“Funny. What took you so long?”

“I had to dig the phone out of my bag. What’s up?” She clutched the phone between her ear and shoulder as she walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Where are you? I‘m at home.”

“Sitting in a Tex-Mex having a drink.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” she asked, pouring water from the filter pitcher into a glass.

“I am. I’ve already talked to her. And I must say, I can be really charming in a pinch.”

“I have suspected this all along. How are things with Keefe?”

“On schedule. Now if we can get Lisa on board, everything goes off without a hitch.”

“You think she’ll do it?” Shea jumped up on the countertop, crossing her legs and sipping the icy water.

“She has no choice, if she wants dear old Daddy to live. I mean, what would you do?”

“If it were my Dad? Probably ask if I could do the job myself.”

“Not everyone loathes their father, Shea.

“Yeah, you’ve never once offered to kill MY father, Jackson.”

“Look, I’d love to continue this incredibly neurotic conversation about offing one’s parents, but I think I see our heroine coming towards the bar. Gotta go.”

“Hey Jackson…”

“Yeah? Make it quick.”

“Don’t have sex with the mark.”

He groaned, “She’s not my type, Shea. And I never get personal. Getting personal gets you killed. I have to go.”

“Jackson--”

“What?” he asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

“Please be careful. I have the weirdest feeling about this job.”

“Let’s not go through this again. Please.” She heard him say something to the bartender. “I’m fine. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Before she could say another word, she heard the disconnection click.

“I love you,” she whispered into the receiver before pressing the TALK button to break the connection, “ass monkey…”

TBC...