Chapter Twenty-Six

"Being a woman is a terribly difficult task, since its consists principally in dealing with men."
-Joseph Conrad

"You're not just a simple prostitute, are you?"

I smile. "Actually, I'm not a prostitute at all."

Hilary looks me over from head to toe, still trying to figure things out as I press my ear to the door, listening for any sings of a presence out in the hall. Sharper senses are also a perk to holding Athena's curse.

"Who are you hiding from?" Hilary asks.

Not hearing or sensing anyone, I turn around to face her with dark hair framing my face and bright hazel eyes. "Maisie. There is a man with her back in one of the rooms. I heard them talking about me. Hilary, from what I heard, it's possible that they could have been the ones who killed Tara."

Her eyes go wide. "What?" I let this information sink in as her facial expressions change from shocked to confused to disbelieving. "Why would you say that?"

"They were talking about killing me. They said I knew too much, and were planning on 'taking care' of Rodney," I explain quietly. "What does that say to you, that they want to start a book club?"

"But Maisie is Tara's best friend!"

"Was. She was Tara's best friend. Look Hilary, I know it may be hard to believe, but from what I overheard, Maisie most definitely had something to do with those murders. Tara's dead, and I don't think we should let them get away with it."

Hilary's brow creases on her pretty, comely face. "But why would she do that? Kill someone, I mean. Someone that close to her?"

I shrug. "Perhaps they were not as close as you thought they were."

Hilary shakes her head. "I don't think so. This doesn't add up."

She looks so confident in this statement that I can't help but consider that there is more to discover. "I'll look into it, all right? Just try to trust me on this one. And please don't say anything to anyone. This is between me and you."

I turn to leave the room, eager to find Rodney, but stop when Hilary suddenly reaches out and grabs my arm. I turn back around to meet her confused eyes, noticing the way her petal lips are turned downwards. "I want to go with you."

"Excuse me?" I ask, thinking that maybe I mistook these words for something else.

"If Maisie really did kill Tara, I want to watch her go down for it. And if she didn't, well, I want to be there to tell you I told you so."

Suddenly, a memory of Jack Sparrow and Kamella Kay in that kitchen back in Port Royal suddenly flashes past my eyes, the way she arched into him and curled her fingers against his shoulder. And then, as they broke apart and I could have crumbled to the floor like fragile glass, the way Kamella walked past me with such confidence and mirth. I told you so, she said into my ear, looking back over her shoulder to throw Jack a seductive, charming smile.

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I can see a young man walk past the stairwell, a look on concentration pulling at his brow. He must be looking for me. "Rodney!" I call, running towards him.

"There you are," he says, his eyes lighting up as I approach him. "Abegail keeps asking why I'm hanging around so much." But I have more pressing matter to deal with than Abegail's questions. I look around to see if anyone else is around, and seeing several, I pull him back into a corner in the hall, holding him by his arm. "What's this about?" he asks, gazing as Hilary follows us without a word.

"Maisie," I whisper. "I think she's in on the murder. She had a man in her room, and they were talking about us. They said I knew too much and that she was going to 'deal' with you."

He raises an eyebrow. "Sound suspicious enough to me. What about her?" he questions, nodding towards Hilary, all pretty in pink with her blue eyes and blonde hair.

"She kind of walked in on the middle of the conversation," I explain. "She wants to help."

"Or rather mock," Hilary defends.

I ignore her. "Rodney, stay away from Maisie. We don't know what she's capable of. And she seemed more than confident that she could and would do to you whatever it is that was on her mind."

"Do you think she'll turn to mist like that other woman did?" he asks boyishly.

"What woman?" Hilary throws in.

"The woman who was trying to kill Andie's brother," he explains to her as though she had any clue I had a brother or what women he was speaking of, before turning back to me. "Ebony or whatever her name was."

"Ivory," I conclude. "And I don't think so. Maisie seems very much human to me. Nothing supernatural here, except maybe her ego."

Hilary's eyes go wide. "She wasn't human?"

I skip past the entire mentioning of Ivory all together. "Look, the man, Maxwell, who Maisie had in the room with her. He was the same one you pulled me away from the other day."

"The sailor?" Rodney asks.

I nod. "Well, at least he looked like a sailor. He said he was going to get close to me, but he was going to be sure you weren't around. So, I need you to get out of here."

His eyes go wide. "What? But Andie, if he doesn't want me around, then-"

"Then he's going to try and get close to me."

"I thought I told you, revenge is not going to help you get over Jack."

Hilary suddenly pipes up, more than confused. "Who's Jack?"

I once again ignore her. "I have to get information out of him, Rodney, I'm not using him to forget about Jack. If I wanted to do that, I would just come to you," I explain, saying this as though he should have known all along.

"Really?" he replies, his eyes wide.

I laugh. "Get out of here."

Hilary frowns. "What about me?"

I look at Rodney. "Well, she obviously can't go with me."

He sighs. "What am I supposed to do with her?"

She smiles, her right hand snaking over his shoulder. "I have a few ideas."

But Rodney seems to care less about Hilary's advances, gently prying her long, pretty fingers from his coat. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" he asks her.

She shakes her head. "No, not really."

Rodney gives me a sideward glance. "Can I talk to you for a second?" he questions before reaching out and taking me by the arm, leading me down the hall a ways and away from the prostitute. "Why me?"

I laugh. "I don't know, perhaps she likes you."

"But she likes you too. Why can't you watch over her?"

I'm finding this shy, boyish humor more than cute and amusing. "Because she wants you to, Rodney. Besides, how am I supposed to get close to Maxwell if there is a woman watching over my shoulder? What, you're scared she's going to kiss you?"

His eyes narrow at me. "For a fee, maybe."

I shake my head at him. "What's your problem?"

He sighs. "Nothing. I don't know what I was even thinking. Come find me if you need me, I'll be trying to ignore the whore batting her eyelashes at me."

I grab him by the elbow as he tries to turn away, giving him the most charming, flirtatious look I can. "Rodney, don't be angry."

He tries not to, but he smiles down at me despite himself. "Listen, you planning on doing any forgetting anytime tonight?"

I'm laughing, but shake my head at him. "Maybe later."

"Promise?" he asks.

"Get gone," I tell him.

His face is very close to mine, I realize suddenly, but before any of us say or do a thing, Rodney's eyes catch something over my shoulder, and his eyes quickly turn to something more of annoyance and anger more than joyful, as they had been.

"Rodney?" I say.

He steps away from me. "I'll get out of your hair."

I narrow my eyes at him, curious as to the sudden change in his mood. "You're not angry about Hilary, are you? Because-"

Rodney rolls those blue eyes at me. "It's fine, Andie."

"Rodney-"

He bats me away from him. "It's fine." Then, he nods towards something at the door. "Go. It seems you have a visitor."

Confused at this and slightly hurt by his sudden angry and forceful tone, I turn towards the front in order to see what he's speaking of. And then, as soon as my eyes meet another's and survey what, or who, is before me, I have to keeping myself from gasping. Because there, not even ten feet away, is standing the Captain of the Black Pearl.

I turn quicky back around, wondering if Jack's presence was what has mad Rodney turn so cold towards me, and curious as to why such a thing would make him this way. He gives me one last look, seemingly not caring about the confusion and shock as my expression as he leads Hilary down the opposite way. "Who is that?" she asks him, turning to gaze at the pirate with interested and curious eyes.

"No one," Rodney tells her. "It's no one."

I turn back around, carefully looking him over. Jack is speaking with Abegail but his russet eyes are cast over her shoulder and are leering at me, that slight golden grin pulling at the side of his mouth. The way he's looking at me makes me feel utterly exposed, as though he can see right through my clothing and every lie I've ever told him. It's like he can see through my anger and hatred for him, all of my secrets. It's as if he knows I still love him, despite what I tried to tell him that day on the docks.

"...About this tall," he tells Abegail, raising his hand in the air about five foot, three inches, "Dark hair, fair skin. General air of aggression about her?"

Abegail nearly jumps up in down with the sheer possibility of more money to add to her fortune. "I've got the perfect girl for you, Captain! The perfect girl." Turning to her left, she looks up and down before turning and doing the same on her right, her eyes searching in all the wrong places. "Dammit, where is that girl? Never where she is supposed to be..." she murmurs. Then, she looks up at Jack, following his eyes to me. "Andie! There you are, my dove! Come here, won't you?"

"Actually-"

But Abegail grabs me by the arm before I can argue, pulling me over and shoving me in front of Jack. "She's a pretty one, is she not, Captain?" she asks.

His eyes, moving agonizingly slow, venture from my hazel eyes, over every curve, over every piece of me that he has ever touched or kissed, to my boots and back, just as slow, to meet my gaze once again. His eyes are so dark and intense that I feel my stomach clench. "Aye," he replies. "Stunning."

I give him a look of warning. Don't you dare start with me, Jack Sparrow...

"Splendid!" Abegail chimes, and opens my palm to place a key in my hand. "You take Captain Sparrow to the nicest room in the back, Andie, and make this night worth his while."

"But-" I begin, but by the strict look she is giving me, I have to shut my mouth and roll my eyes in frustration. This woman can be impossible if you get between her and her business. "Fine."

She nods, accepting this, but gives me one last look of warning and smiles at Jack none the less. "Now, Captain, if you have any problems or complaints, you just let me know."

It seems he is incapable of looking at anything, or anyone, else. "You won't hear a peep out of me," he tells her, that amused glint in his eye.

"Let's hope so," Abegail says, more to me than him, and walks off to annoy a group of sailors that walk through the doors.

"What are you doing here, Jack?" I ask instantly, my alto voice clearly agitated.

He smiles. "You heard the lady; aren't you supposed to be taking me to the finest room in the back? And it's Captain."

I roll my eyes. "I'm not in the mood to be playing games with you tonight."

"Maybe later then?"

"You're hopeless," I sigh, turning back in order to make some excuse to Abegail as to why she should call a guard to escort him out.

He grabs me tightly by my shoulders, his long, slider fingers curling against the bare skin of my arms. "Listen, Andie, we need to talk. And I know I am probably the last person you want to be locked in a room with in a place like this, but it needs to be done. I won't rest until some things are clear."

"You mean a whorehouse?" I reply.

"What?"

"You said 'in a place like this'. That's where we are; a brothel. Can't you say it out loud by now? You've been to them enough," I bite. All right, so I know these words and insults are completely wrong for me to say, but I'm angry. What does he expect me to do, welcome him with open arms and take him back, just like that? No. This will take some effort. Maybe I'll even make him beg. Begging sounds nice, right?

"That's not fair," Jack says, wagging a finger at me. "After all, you're the one who's being employed by one. Strange, I remember you telling me repeatedly the first few weeks after our first encounter how you weren't a whore."

I swear, if I could only bring myself to raise my first and punch him right in the nose, I would. But something is stopping me. Bloody fuzzy feelings! "That's not what I'm doing here."

"It's not?" he asks. "That's strange, I swear I saw that Spanish woman place a key in your hand and tell you to make my night worth while."

"I'm trying to stop a murderer," I explain, my jaw clenched. Leave it to Jack to make me hotter than a pistol.

He raises an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he's doing. He wants to make me angry. He always has; he loves getting a rise out of me. I hate him for it, but hate myself even more for provoking him. "And making a few shillings a night while at it?"

That does it; I reach out, my hand in motion to slap that satisfied look right off his face when he suddenly reaches up and catches me by the wrist. I try to pull back, to step away and make him let go, but he only tightens his finger's grip. "I hope you know that I despise you, Jack Sparrow!" I hiss under my breath.

He grins a slow, wretched grin. "Aye, love, I know. Now why don't you lead the way to that room, hmm?"

"Fine," I snap. "But only if you let go of me first."

"You're really not in any position to be attempting to bargain, love. Tell ye what; I promise to let ye go when we're behind that locked door. And the key is in my pocket."

"I don't-"

"I just want to talk to ye, I swear it on the King's Navy, darling."

I shake my head at him. "And the talking leads to contact, and the contact leads to kissing, and the kissing leads to sex. I know how this works, Jack. I know how you work."

He grins. "Then I suppose you're very much aware of all the times I've proved how much you love how I work, just as much as I love showing you."

I can feel the anger boiling inside me, deeper than thick skin and flowing adrenaline. "You're pushing my patience, Captain."

"Let's not waste time, then. Lead the way, Miss Bryant," he quips, nodding his head down the long corridor.

I frown and narrow my eyes at him, but do as he says. I'd rather be able to shout and pummel him as I wish in privacy, anyway. The hall is nearly empty, save for passing costumers and girls seeking out Abegail to fix a problem in the saloon or to search for someone new to keep them company (a.k.a. pay for a new dress) for the night. I try my best to keep my eyes off of Jack and to ignore anytime we come in contact, ignoring his rough, familiar fingers that are still wrapped around my wrist. And then, as I unlock the door and lead him inside, my annoyance with him only seems to heighten.

Jack holds out his dark, scratched palm. "Give it to me, then."

I roll my eyes. "Are you serious? What do you think I'm going to do, run out on you?"

"You've done it before," he informs.

Sighing, I drop the key into his open hand. What am I to do, argue with him about that for another ten minutes? I'd rather not. In fact, I just want to get this over with. "You had something to say?" I ask, stepping away from him. No touching, that's the only rule I have here. Not in a way other then my kicking his ass, that is.

"Aye," he says. "We need to discuss what you think you saw back in Port Royal."

"What I think I saw?" I scoff. "What I saw, Jack. I'm not blind, nor am I stupid. You were kissing Kamella. Or she was kissing you, I don't know. All I know is that I walked in on you kissing another woman, and you weren't complaining. I don't care if she did it to tear us apart or not, you weren't thinking of throwing her off you anytime soon."

For the first time in a long time, I see a look of hurt in his chocolate eyes. "You're right," he admits. "She kissed me, and I didn't do anything about it. But it doesn't mean anything, Andie. She doesn't mean anything to me."

"You can skip the apologies and the 'I would do anything for you' crap. I don't want to hear it."

He takes a step towards me. "I don't know what you want me to do, love, to convince you. I can't chase you forever."

I open my mouth to reply, but his words catch me off guard. I can't chase you forever. I close my eyes, remembering a dream I once had where Jack was chasing me through a forest, snow on my lashes and his skin brittle and cold.

When my eyes flutter open, he is standing right in front of me. "Tell me what to do."

Suddenly, Jack dropping to his knees and begging me for his forgiveness doesn't seem as amusing and satisfying as the thought of it had before. Now it just seems silly and pointless. What do I want him to do? What do I want him to do? I want him to never allow me to leave again. I want him to convince me that everything happens for a reason, that we met and were together for a reason, that my opening up to him and falling in love with him wasn't just another reason for the Powers That Be to once again laugh in face.

He decides for me. Stepping forward once again, Jack takes my face in his hands, giving me not much time to struggle or fight against him but goes in for the kill, instantly numbing my body with the warmth and the strength his tongue sends through my body like a shockwave. I'm surprised at myself as I kiss him back, reaching forward to pull him flush against me, twisting the fabric of his blue coat between my fingers.

I lead him further into the room, more than happy that Jack is not allowing our kiss to fall apart and pressing him against the nearest wall, feeling some sort of dominance as he allows me to take the lead, curious as to what I will do next.

"I thought you said no contact," he pants, grinning at me as he breaks our kiss but still cupping my cheek in one hand. "Apparently it leads to kissing and kissing leads to-"

I reach up to pull his mouth down on mine once again. "Less talk and more contact."

Grinning, Jack obliges. He tastes, he feels, just as I remembered. His scars are still rough beneath my fingertips, his skin still hot and golden from the Caribbean sun. I can't get enough of him. And suddenly, although my anger is still there, just beneath the surface, an intense feeling of abandon and want is there as well, controlling my will to push him away and tell him to go to hell. It controls me as he lifts me up, urging my legs to wrap around his waist and mouth to continue the ever-waging war with his.

I feel drunk, all blissful and happy as his fingers find their way to the bodice of the low-cut dress I'm wearing, and as he pulls it off me and throws it without a thought to the floor. I feel intoxicated as I'm chanting his name as he lowers me down to the bed, his mouth at my neck and his knee pushing my legs apart.

I'm pulling and peeling every inch of fabric on his body, trying to keep his mouth moving against mine and his hands from never ceasing their ministrations on my flesh. Jack's breath, hot and heavy against my neck and breasts is crucial, driving me even more into my destruction. I'm moving against him, trying to feel him through every layer of clothing and nearly tearing them off him before the tension becomes too much and I realize what I'm doing.

Jack reaches back, pulling his shirt off over strong, firm shoulders before leaning back down to kiss me again, driving me insane with the warmth and the lust and the agony that I'm panting, fumbling with the buckle of his belt because of the caress of his fingers on my thighs, his teeth behind my ear and the sheer knowing that I can have him again, that I can take what I want and allow myself to enjoy it, that I can love him in this moment and not be angry at myself for doing so.

Nothing more between us, I am aware as he moves over me like a cat in the night, graceful and dangerous. His eyes meet mine, finding no fear where he looks, just above and slightly below the surface, before burrowing himself inside me in one torturesome movement, catching me with palms against my back as I arch against him, clear off the mattress of the bed. Jack watches me, an unusual emotion in his eyes that I've never before seen. There is a wild abandon, a hazardous glint that drives me to take him further, a wise look of cognition, and of course that deep, dark knowing of adoration that I see every time his eyes darken, every time he kisses or whispers or makes love to me.

Jack takes this time to deny me of any control or dominance I offer. He wants to be the one making love to me, I realize, as he apologizes with a kiss to my neck, pressing my hips down onto the bed as I try to move against him, taking him deeper within my body. He wants to take this slow, wants to make it last.

I mewl at this, trying to sway my hips against his despite my battle has already been lost. He shushes me, nuzzling my neck and throat with his nose and lips, a tender gesture that both does and does not surprise me. He waits, revealing a patience I never knew existed within him, until I am quiet and calm, allowing him to take me as he wishes, to make his move despite the ache inside my stomach that refuses to be quenched unless I can have him now, how I want, fast and crucial, the selfish young woman I am. But Jack moves inside me slowly, deeply, prolonging every striking emotion that's pounding through our veins that much longer.

Soon his hands leave my hips, trusting me to join his rhythm and surrender beneath his touch. His fingertips trace my lips and I tremble, wanting him to kiss me, but he refuses. And it's now that I understand. He's showing me a lesson. He's so close but far away, giving me what I want but refusing me what I need. I do the same to him, in a slightly different context, and he's decided he's not going to take it any longer. He's calling the shots. And I'm allowing him to. I have to.

"Please," I plead, reaching up with a hand to touch his face, "Let me-" He cuts me off, however, leaning down so I can brush my lips to his, passionately, tasting him as I see fit until he begins picking up his speed, only slightly, that is, before breaking off again, teasing me as the sway of his hips begins to slow once more. "No," I whimper, reaching down to touch him, to press my fingers into his hip, anything, but he gathers my hands into one of his, holding them above my head and pressing them into the mattress, just below the two pillows on the bed. "I can't-" take this anymore.

But despite my frustration at him for his teasing, seductive ways, I don't want him to stop what he's doing. My head is reeling, my gasps and moans leaking from between my lips without my knowledge, only driving Jack further. I can see, however, when I open my eyes that his jaw is clenched, and his eyes are tightly closed, his self preservation being overpowered by his need for release.

Suddenly I can move my hands as his fingers move down my arm to my shoulder and neck, Jack's lips moving to kiss the flesh the pads of his fingertips move past. His other arm is around my waist, holding and pulling me against him as his movements turn abrupt and powerful, causing my back to arch into him again, my head falling back in complete and utter bliss. All of my thoughts are short and sharp, all of Jack and how I never want this to end.

I can feel the tension tightening in my stomach and in my thighs and I know Jack can too as suddenly his hand disappears between my thighs and his breathing is harsh on my lips, his eyes closed in perfect concentration as my body begins to tense around his in it's wake for release of it all. And finally, when I fall down onto the bed, panting and utterly spent, I feel Jack fall over the edge as well as he collapses against me, his skin moist and feverish.

When we catch our breath, I am surprised to hear Jack chuckle. "Do I have to start paying you now?" he asks.

"There's blood in my mouth cause I've been biting my tongue all week
I keep talking trash but I never say anything
And the talking leads to touching
And the touching leads to sex
And then there is no mystery left
And it's bad news, baby, I'm bad news
I'm just bad news, bad news, bad news."
"Portions for Foxes" -Rilo Kiley

Got this chapter written really fast. Making up for the last chapter being so bloody short. I was inspired and got most of it written all in one evening. Don't know where it all came from, but I can't wait for another sudden burst of inspiration to hit me again because this is probably one of my favorite chapters. Jack is so charming, haha.

Reviews would be lovely and inspire me even more!

Hugs and kisses to you all: Sandragoon, Sentinel Sparrow, alonefreehearted, inus blue eyed miko, VooDooJayneSmith, mirandler43, Depps1andOnly, johnnyluver4ever, Renajah, SilenceHereIAm.