'Sleeping with the enemy'

Arcadia’s eyes flitted open, and soon she was struck by the realisation of where she was. A stranger's bed. Not that it was unusual for her, but she usually never fell asleep. She would make a bolt for the door not long after the ‘final strokes’. The man of the evening lay sleeping beside her, the sheet barely covering his tall, muscular naked frame—only the light from the en-suite slithered through the half-open door. Chad must have forgotten to turn it off. Chad. That was his name. She reminded herself. She could still feel pleasurable shivers, coursing up and down her body, like thin tendrils, brushing just beneath the surface of her skin. As she silently sat up in bed, flashes of each caress of his hand across her body.  His hot breath on her skin teased up and down every last inch of her. And how her inner thighs quaked with every thrust. His kisses continued to linger upon her lips.

She took one last glance over him before sliding from the bed, as quietly as possible.

It was, as luck would have it, fortunate that the bathroom light was on; it allowed enough illumination for her to find each item of clothing that had been discarded upon the bedroom floor upon their arrival; a mix of limbs flailing and their bodies grinding together.  Scooping them up, Arcadia snuck into the bathroom and slipped back into her clothes. 

Her thoughts drifted to the start of the evening and all the possibilities it had to offer.

The club was loud; it had a boisterous air…And although most of its patrons were currently behaving, trouble was lingering, as always, in every corner. A far cry from her sister's club. Arcadia had been sitting at the bar for at least the length of three tequilas. About to down her fourth, her gaze wandered idly around the venue, stopping short when it collided with his. Unwavering green orbs, intensely fixated on him as she emptied the contents of the glass. It no longer had the same effect as the trail of heat from the first, sliding down her throat. She licked her lips and flashed him a seductive smile.

They talked. They flirted. Each without giving away much information about who they really were, or the secrets they hid. Her instincts, all the while, were screaming at her to walk away, but Arcadia dabbled with danger for a living, and so she shoved aside the persistent nagging of her inner voice and allowed the alcohol to take her deeper into the warm, reckless haze of uninhibited abandon. 

All of which had led her here. Standing in the man's en-suite, at 5 am. 

She took a deep exhalation of breath and ran her fingers through her tousled hair. Glancing briefly at herself in the mirror, before turning and heading silently back into the bedroom. Scanning the floor once more to be sure she had everything. She glanced toward the bed. Good. He looked like he was still sleeping. This afforded Arcadia a clean ‘escape’. 

Now she just needed her shoes and purse. Which she soon found in the living room next to a coffee table. This time, it was the moon's rays that lit her way. Also, casting a light onto a thick manila folder, casually resting on top of the glass table. Something about it unexpectedly piqued her curiosity. At first, she suppressed the urge to look; however, something got the better of her, and she snatched the file from where it lay on the table. This movement jarred something loose from within, and it fell to the floor. Picking it up, she saw that it was a photo. Suddenly, a sour taste welled up in her throat, and the copious amount of alcohol had suddenly evaporated, leaving behind a cold reality. Staring back at her was Micah Jacobs. Her Brother, and leader of the Blood Cartel. With some urgency, she opened the file, thumbing through its contents. It was full of names, dates, and surveillance shots. All related to the cartel. Micah was its main focus. Which stood to reason, he was the head after all. But she was there too. Her name was emboldened on page three.

Again, the voices were screaming at her to get the hell as far away as possible. But the calculated and collected aspect of her personality won out, and her curiosity took precedence, even before self-preservation. Besides, she was a Jacobs and could take care of herself.