Young Love Murder

by April Brookshire

  She brushes my hands off of her waist, clearly annoyed. “You don’t understand. What I do isn’t wrong. I was born to be what I am. I don’t hurt innocent people. Hell, I probably save innocent people.”

  I ignore her attempt to put distance between us and cup her jaw, using my thumb to stroke her cheek. “Help me understand, Anna. I believe that you believe you kill only those who deserve it. With the exception of my father, who was a mistake.”

  She opens her mouth as if to say something but I cut off her words, not wanting to hear her call my father a drug dealing murderer again. She’s wrong. She may not have known the mistake she was making, but a mistake it was.

  “I don’t want to hear it, Annabelle.” It may make me a bad person, a bad son, but I selfishly want to find a way around our dilemma. I want her more than I want revenge.

  She closes her mouth, staring at me silently, thoughtfully. “Fine, I won’t say it again. I know it hurts you.”

  With my free hand, I grab one of hers. “Will you answer a few questions truthfully for me?”

  “Depends on what they are. I’ll answer truthfully, if I can answer them at all,” she explains.

  “Okay, I can handle that, the truth or no answer at all. First question, have you been with anyone else since you left Miami?”

  Her guarded eyes soften and she says softly, “There’s been no one but you, Gabriel.”

  A rush of satisfaction surges through me and I somehow manage not to grin like an idiot. My thoughts turn serious. “Do you love me?”

  She smiles shyly, well shyly for Anna. “More than anything.”

  God, I want so much to believe her. Past hurts and betrayals rear their ugly heads. “Who hired you to kill my dad?”

  “I can’t answer that because I don’t know,” she says somberly.

  “But, when you . . . shot him, you honestly believed that he was the bad guy?”

  “Yes,” she firmly says.

  Can I deal with that? Can I ever forgive her for that? Is Annabelle not a monster after all, but instead a misinformed assassin? Can I forgive her for the mistake that cost me my father? I don’t know. My heart is telling me I can. My head is telling me I can’t, that it would be a betrayal to my family. My grief is telling me to seek vengeance.

  At the thought of family, another question pops into my head. “Where’s your family? Where are your parents?”

  “They’re dead.” Her eyes are guarded, as if she doesn’t like the subject. Before I can come up with another question she asks me, “Can I ask you a few questions now?” She squeezes my hand.

  “Sure.”

  “Are you still planning to kill me?” she calmly asks. More calmly than about ninety-nine percent of the world population would.

  I look into her face for a few moments, searching it and searching myself. “I don’t think I am. No.” The last word is less doubtful.

  Her smile is big until she starts chewing on her bottom lip and fidgeting nervously. I sense another question coming. She has that rare vulnerable look on her face while speaking in a small voice, “Do you still love me?”

  I groan at the messed up misery that’s my life. Removing my hand from hers, I place my face in my palms. Running my hands roughly through my hair and looking down at the paisley pattern in the airplane carpet, I answer, “For some odd, totally unexplainable and messed up reason, yes, I do still love you.”

  Hearing her gasp in happiness, I look up just in time to see her pounce towards me. I find myself on my back, with her straddling me and raining kisses all over my face and neck. What’s a guy to do but take advantage? I grab her ass and press her more tightly against me.

  “I love you. I love you. I love you,” Anna is repeating in between her sweet kisses. Now, if only she’d move those kisses further south . . . .

  She pulls her face back to look me in the eyes and I’m startled by the hope I see in there and an openness that I’ve never before witnessed on her face. “Gabriel?” she whispers.

  “Yes?” I whisper back, teasing her.

  “Is there a chance for us?”

  I reach up to weave my fingers through her blonde hair. Enjoying its texture, for a brief moment the thought flashes through my mind of using it to hurt her. I shake away the violent image, not liking it. Instead, I pull her head down so that our foreheads are touching. “I don’t know, Anna. Make me understand you. Show me that you aren’t a monster. Show me that I can trust you with my heart again.”

  “I love you so much, Gabriel. And I swear that I’ll do exactly what you ask. Tell me what I need to do.”

  “Take me on your next assignment. Let me see you in action. Prove to me that you aren’t bad.”

  She sits up and is once again straddling me in just the right position. She exhales loudly. “I don’t know who my target is yet. I’ll get that information once I’m in Sydney.” I can see the indecision on her face and finally she says, “I don’t want you to get hurt, Gabriel, but I suppose you can watch me work from a distance.”

  I grab her by the neck of her purple Hello Kitty shirt and pull her down for a kiss. “Not too far of a distance.”

  She laughs, agreeing, “Okay, not too far.”

  Kissing her again, more deeply, I move one hand to the more interesting parts of her body.

  She practically moans the words, “Gabriel, what are you doing?”

  My hand continues its journey. “I’m going to make love to you.”

  She sighs. “And I’m going to let you.”

  Eighteen hours later and a few continents away, we’re de-boarding the plane in Sydney. I have the stupid grin on my face that I managed to avoid earlier when she told me she hadn’t slept with anyone but me. But this time she did sleep with someone, me. I figure that’s okay, because eighteen hours of off and on sex will put that grin on any man’s face.

  The grin disappears while we’re exiting the airport and standing on the sidewalk is the fake Russian, Dexter, Mr. Not Cool No Name. He’s leaning against a square concrete pillar, standing under the overhang of the taxi and pickup area on this side of the airport.

  I feel Anna stiffen under the arm I have wrapped around her shoulders. “What are you doing here?” Her tone isn’t what you’d call friendly

  I can’t see his eyes through the dark sunglasses he’s wearing, but I do see one eyebrow arch from behind them. “Watching out for your reckless ass,” he answers. Wearing a black suit with a suitcase propped next to him on the sidewalk, he blends in with the other traveling businessmen, the real ones. His hair is black now, his skin a shade paler than before, giving him a sinister look.

  “Dammit! I don’t need a babysitter. Why don’t you just tell-” Anna stops what she was about to say and darts a glance at me. “I have everything under control,” she grits through clenched teeth.

  “I can see that,” he states sarcastically. “I just thought it would be diplomatic of me to give loverboy a warning.”

  “Fuck off prick. The only person who needs to be warned is you,” I tell him. “Anna isn’t your concern anymore. She belongs to me.”

  He laughs at my possessive declaration. “Right,” he says slowly. “And something I didn’t need to hear, by the way.” He visibly shakes himself, continuing, “Anyways, as I was saying before you so rudely interrupted, I’m being the nice guy here and warning you that you’ll pay dearly for hurting her in any way. Any. Way.”

  Anna grunts from beside me and asks him with hostility, “Are you done now?”

  If I knew him better, I’d say that he’s trying to piss her off when he smiles tauntingly and says, “I’m done with him, but now there’s the matter of dealing with you.”

  Her fists clench and her face is a mask of outrage. “You don’t need to deal with me. Go find someone else to bug.”

  “But Annie, you know that you’re my favorite victim,” he articulates sweetly. As a co-worker of hers, I’m sure he has many victims.

  “You’re such a loser,” she mutters.


  “And you’re a dork,” he says casually and continues with, “But that’s beside the point. I’m just asking you to behave. Don’t get into any more trouble on the job.”

  I’m surprised when her cheeks blush a sweet pink color and she looks embarrassed. “I’m not going to do that anymore. Don’t worry about me.”

  “Right,” he says again. “Despite your assurances, I’m still skeptical. Just remember, I’ll be watching both of you.” He then lifts up his sunglasses so that I can get the full effect of his steely glare. “Be careful Annie. Love you.”

  She smiles reluctantly and I get jealous when she says, “Love you too, loser.” Well, sort of jealous. Behind my jealousy, something else is nagging at me. Oh well, I’ll just ask Anna about it when I figure out what it is.

  We watch him climb into a taxi and once he’s gone, I turn to Anna. “What was that all about? What sort of trouble have you been getting into, besides the obvious?”

  She looks embarrassed again, not meeting my eyes. “It’s sort of a long story, involving nine different countries and a lot of alcohol.”

  “Well, it’s a long drive to the hotel,” I speak sternly, unwilling to back off the subject.

  As we’re pulling into the parking garage of our hotel forty-five minutes later, I’m stunned and more than a little disturbed. “Anna, I don’t like the idea of you handling poisonous snakes.” The stories she’s told me of her kills for the past six months are alarming.

  “Well then, maybe you shouldn’t have shown me the Kill Bill movies then.” Oh yeah, how dumb of me, this is my fault.

  “Anna,” I say warningly.

  “Okay, okay,” she agrees, “No more snakes.”

  “Or machetes?” I add.

  “No problem there, no more machetes.” She shivers and says, “Ew,” giving me some hope that I’m not dating the female Dexter.

  “I love you, Anna.” After pulling the rental car into a parking spot on the third concrete level, I grab her face for a kiss.

  “Love you too, Gabriel,” she murmurs, happily accepting my lips.

  While getting our luggage out of the car, I have another question for her, “So when do you get the information you need?”

  “It’ll be delivered to the hotel by tonight.”

  “Can’t wait,” I mumble under my breath.

  Chapter 27

  Annabelle

  Giggling, something I’ve been doing a lot in the past twenty-four hours, I jump out of the shower. Gabriel makes a move to grab me, but I’m too quick, assassin reflexes and all that. Shrugging on a white robe I find hanging on the back of the bathroom door, I leave the steamy bathroom and Gabriel to finish his shower all by his lonesome.

  Walking through the bedroom, decorated in modern and stylish but comfortable furnishings of a teal blue and brown color scheme, I sigh happily at how great things are between us. Checking into the hotel situated on the Wharf at Woolloomooloo together was kind of romantic, despite the crazy name Australians gave the area we’re staying in. The balcony off the living room area of the suite looks out onto the Royal Botanical Gardens next door. With it being late May and almost winter in Australia, we have the doors firmly closed to keep out the chilly sixty degree weather.

  Before I have the chance to get some clothes on, there are two fast knocks on the hotel room door. Grabbing my pistol off the nightstand, I grip it in my hand and tuck it into the pocket of the oversized terry cloth robe. Leaning against the door to look out the peephole, I spot someone totally unexpected. Someone totally unwanted. I glance over my shoulder at the master bedroom door where the shower is still running. I so don’t need the bullshit that is about to go down right now.

  Resigned to my fate, I open the door and ask my unwelcome visitor, “What the hell are you doing in Sydney?”

  Not even looking at my face, but instead up and down my robe-shrouded body, as if fluffy is sexy, Brent asks me, “Annabelle, is that any way to greet an old flame? By the way, please tell me that you aren’t wearing anything under that robe.”

  Yep, so don’t need this right now. “The only flame between me and you, Brent, is the one that I’m going to set you on fire with.”

  With a chuckle, he walks past me and into the hotel room. It’s then that I notice the manila envelope he’s holding in his right hand. Okay, something’s going on. I hope Brent isn’t going to ask for another favor. They’re usually just ruses to force me into spending time with him.

  Brushing off my insult, he says, “Annabelle, my love, don’t you know that you set my blood on fire every time you’re near?”

  I hold back a smile, because that would only encourage him. “Really, just your blood? I must be losing my touch. The last guy that I set on fire didn’t survive to bother me again.”

  He laughs, not a bit deterred. “Knowing you, I’d totally believe it. Since I’m still alive it must mean that my love isn’t unrequited.”

  His wanting the rare female who resists his charms is Brent’s thing. Bastard knows he’s good-looking with wavy, light brown hair and dark blue eyes on his pretty boy face. A lean, muscular body and confidence only add to the man I consider a plague on womankind. It’s a good thing I’m immune.

  Rolling my eyes, I point to the folder in his hand. “I’m too busy right now to do you any favors, Brent.”

  He waves the folder in the air. “Annabelle, love of my life, this time it’s me who will be doing the favor for you.”

  “No thanks, I’ll pass,” I interrupt rudely.

  “Anna-” Brent begins, stops, gets an intense look on his face, eyes my wet hair and asks, “Why is your shower running? Is Jackson here with you?”

  Oh my god. I can feel the blush spreading over my face. “No.”

  Brent has an amazed look on his face. “You’re blushing.” Then he narrows his eyes at me, asking, “Why are you blushing, Annabelle?”

  I hear the shower turn off and am at a loss as what to do in this situation. I have nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about. But jeez, a fellow assassin who’s had the hots for me for the past two years walks into my hotel room, where my boyfriend is in the shower after doing lots of intimate things with me. Okay, just a tad embarrassing. But still, no reason to feel ashamed.

  “Well . . . ,” I begin as Gabriel steps out of the bedroom, holding a white towel in front of his crotch.

  Grinning and not yet noticing Brent, he asks, “Why’d you run out of the shower so fast, Anna? I wasn’t done with you yet.”

  “Um,” I mumble dumbly.

  Brent clears his throat with a sour look on his scrunched up face. Gabriel’s head jerks in Brent’s direction. “What the fuck?” Wrapping the towel around his waist, Gabriel shoots Brent a dirty look. “Who the hell are you?”

  Brent smiles wickedly. “An old flame of Annabelle’s.”

  “Dammit, Brent! One date doesn’t count as an old flame!” I yell at him in an attempt to cover up how uncomfortable I am.

  Still grinning, Brent replies, “It does if you do the date right. And didn’t you just agree with me that there was fire between us?”

  Gabriel’s clenching his fists and his green eyes are shooting darts at Brent. With a tick in his jaw, he asks, “When exactly was this date?”

  “A long time ago,” I rush to say, “Over a year ago.”

  Gabriel takes a deep breath and lets it out, staring down Brent. “It couldn’t have been that great of a date if you didn’t even have sex with her.”

  “Gabriel!” I just know that I’m blushing all over again.

  Brent loses the smile and glares at Gabriel in return. “How would you know whether or not we had sex?”

  This situation is getting out of hand, “For-”

  I’m cut off by Gabriel, who has a satisfied smirk on his face. “Because up until eight months ago, Anna was still a virgin.”

  Way out of hand! “Would-”

  Brent cuts in before I can finish, “I take it you had the honors?”

  Gabriel shrugs, rela
xing slightly. “Not to brag, but-”

  “Shut the fuck up, both of you!” I yell at the top of my lungs.

  Their heads swivel in my direction and I’m trying to decide which one I want to knock out first. Keeping a reign on my temper, I take a few steps towards Brent and snatch the envelope angrily out of his hand then walk to the table, slap it down and open it to spread its contents across the glass.

  “What’s this?” I glance up at Brent, who’s taken a seat at the table across from me.

  “The favor,” he replies with both eyebrows lifted.

  Gabriel comes up behind me and whispers in my ear, “Who is this guy, Anna?”

  You know what? I could handle this situation a little better fully clothed. I eye Brent and command, “Stay.” Then I grab Gabriel’s hand and pull him behind me to the bedroom.

  As soon as the door is shut behind us, he asks hopefully, only half joking, “Do we need to kill him?”

  I almost laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “Maybe later, let’s get dressed first.”

  Two minutes later and less naked, with my hand on the doorknob, Gabriel stops me. Wrapping me up in his arms, he moves my long hair out of the way and kisses me on the side of my neck. “Do you love me, Anna?”

  “You know it.” Leaning my head back against his chest, I soak in this moment of contentment.

  “Tell me about him,” Gabriel prods. Already saw this coming.

  “Well,” I begin slowly, “He’s sort of a co-worker.”

  “Ex-boyfriend?”

  “Definitely not. One date doesn’t equal a boyfriend.”

  “Do you still have feelings for him?” Gabriel’s sounds calm, trying to act mature about it, but the wrong answer would set him off.

  “I never had feelings for him to begin with.” Totally true, the date was a let’s see type of deal. All I saw was that Brent and I were better off as friends.

  “Is he going to try to kill us?”

  “It’s unlikely,” I tease Gabriel.