Young Love Murder

by April Brookshire

  Getting off the phone a minute later, her gaze zeros in on me. “What are you still doing here?”

  I casually shrug one shoulder. “This is where you are.”

  “You should go, Annie,” Jackson says quietly from where he’s leaning against the far wall.

  “I can handle it, Jackson,” she says harshly, shooting him a glare.

  “Maybe I don’t want you to.” He takes a step forward and I feel as if I’m missing something. “You know what the victim’s family is going to ask for. They’ve made it clear from the beginning.”

  “And I can do it.” She doesn’t back down.

  “Do what?” They both ignore me.

  “Can you?” Jackson looks oddly condescending, but tender at the same time. “Simon will agree with me. Their specific demands aren’t what you’re used to.”

  “And you are?” She crosses her arms over the chest of her trench coat.

  “Dammit, Anna! You’re still a female, and my sister! I won’t put this on you!” Jackson is becoming more agitated and I have a feeling that whatever they’re arguing about, I’d probably be on his side.

  Anna opens her mouth to yell back, but is interrupted by her phone ringing. Narrowing her eyes at Jackson, she answers, “Yeah?” Long pause. “That’s what I figured.” She runs her free hand across her forehead, looking stressed. “I’ll do it.” When she begins to look mad, I’m guessing she doesn’t like what Simon’s telling her. “You’re treating me like a child!” Long pause, then she shouts, “Fine!” and hangs up.

  While she throws objects back inside the victim’s purse, she tells Jackson, “I’m out of here. Simon says for you to do it. This other purse and wallet must be another victim of his because the woman has been missing for the past six months. I’ll leave her stuff for the police to find. I’m taking Therese Sealy’s belongings to send them back to her family. They don’t want her connected with this place, even if it’s where she died.”

  She stomps out of the room, with me following her first, but I can sense Jackson right behind me. She kicks William Coster as she passes him. “Piece of crap!” Spinning around at the door, she glowers at Jackson. “For the record, I wanted to spare you from having to do it.”

  Jackson doesn’t respond, but walks over to a shelf to pick up a ball gag. Then, going over to William Coster, he leans over and places it into the target’s mouth, securing it over his head. Crouching over William, Jackson doesn’t look up at her while he says, “Thank you for that Anna, but I’m better able to handle it afterwards. Go now, and take loverboy with you.”

  Annabelle gives the top of her brother’s head a sad look then turns to leave. “He should wake up soon, Jackson. See you back at the hotel.”

  Before following her out, I have to ask Jackson, “What are you going to do?” Even though I have a feeling I already know the answer.

  He glances up at me, looking almost sick at the thought of the task ahead of him. “Her family’s requested that he meet his end the same way their daughter did. They want him tortured and beaten to death.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble inadequately and get out of there, closing the door firmly behind me. I hear Jackson lock the deadbolt as I walk down the dingy hallway. Catching up with Anna on the steps outside the building, I point my thumb over to my bike parked a block down. “I’ll give you a ride back to your hotel.”

  Looking preoccupied, she just nods.

  Chapter 40

  Annabelle

  Already upset about what Jackson is going through, the fact that Gabriel insists on accompanying me up to my hotel room has me feeling even more off balance. Following me into the suite as I take off my trench coat, he moves away from the door and his heavy boots thud on the patterned carpet when he takes them off.

  I slowly turn around, unsure how to proceed, aware that I’m dressed like a hooker. Seeing the bulge in his jeans, I give him a cold, pointed glare. “We’re not having sex, Gabriel.”

  Unashamed, he smiles. “Maybe, maybe not.” Damn, he looks good. It didn’t escape my attention yesterday and last night that he’s packed on more muscle in the past couple of years. He also grew another inch.

  My coat gets tossed over the desk chair and, slinking his way, I give him a seductive look. When I’m just inches from him, I place both hands on his pecs, making his eyes go wide at my forward behavior. Lips mere centimeters apart, I bring my knee up hard into his crotch. As his face registers what I just did with a mixture of shock and pain, I back away. “Like I said, we’re not having sex.”

  He drops to his knees, now giving me a dirty look. Still not talking because of the pain, he’s cupping himself intimately. After breathing in and out a few times, he wheezes out his next words, “A simple ‘no’ would have worked.”

  I bring up one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I like my method more. Your face was priceless.” Feeling filthy from the club and that creep’s place, I spin around, walking towards my bedroom. I stop to unzip both boots and fling them into a corner. Then, before I go through the doors, with my back to Gabriel, I slip off my shorts and corset, giving him a view of me from behind in nothing but a black G-string. I know I’m being a royal bitch, but the boy has it coming. Fucker shot me.

  I hear him groan, but in a different kind of pain this time, and slam the door shut behind my mostly naked self. Mentally, I’m chortling evilly right now. Once in the bathroom, I strip out of my remaining garment, the now infamous G-string, and turn on the shower. When the temperature is as warm as I can get it without the risk of being scalded, I step in.

  Unfortunately, I still haven’t had time to stop at a drugstore and pick up real shampoo and conditioner, so I’m stuck using the crappy hotel stuff. That always puts me in a bad mood. I’m contemplating what color to dye my hair next, maybe a dark red, when the shower door is swung open.

  Due to my ingrained sense of defense, because I never know when someone’s going to try to kill me, my elbow shoots out sideways. Gabriel catches it with one hand, making a tsking sound. “Baby, now you’re just getting predictable.”

  I swing my free fist towards his gut but he catches that one with the other hand then spreads our arms wide, gazing down at my wet body. “Beautiful, baby. But you forgot to give me the full frontal out there. Thought I’d correct your mistake. Wouldn’t want you losing sleep over it later.”

  “I locked the door.” I don’t bother faking false modesty, let him look. Nothing he hasn’t seen before.

  “No, you didn’t,” he disagrees, dropping my arms and moving away. Surprisingly, he’s looking at my face while conversing. “Subconsciously, you wanted me to come in here and join you.” His clothes start coming off and I can’t help but take a peek at his naked form. Talk about hot. He’s making the steaming shower look bad. I lean my head back under the water and bring my hands up to rinse the conditioner out of my hair.

  When I feel his hands on my hips and hear the soft slam of the shower door closing, I shiver despite the warmth of the water. His hips move against mine and I can feel down below that he’s recovered from the injury I inflicted earlier. Opening my eyes, I look up to stare directly into his. They’re hot with desire. For this one moment, everything freezes and I’m brought back to a time in the past. A time when we loved each other and when I so foolishly made him my world.

  “Annabelle,” he whispers roughly, leaning down. His lips meet mine in a desperate kiss, soft and rough at the same time. I allow it, allow myself to have just this. My arms come up around his neck. Our wet chests are pressing against each other. Skin to skin, there’s no part of our bodies that isn’t touching. I haven’t felt this need in so long. Damn him.

  He lifts me up off the porcelain floor so that my feet no longer touch the ground, with the water spraying my back. I’m encased in heat on both sides. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I grip his muscular back. His lips leave mine and run down my chin and throat. One night won’t hurt . . . .

  “I love you so much, baby. I’ve been so lost wit
hout you. Please say it, I need to hear it. Tell me you still love me, Annabelle.” His pleading words of love cut into a wall that I thought I’d made impenetrable.

  The sob escapes my throat before I can stop it, before I can stop the wracking tears. That quickly, the moment turns from one of arousal to one of pain, regret and sadness. Leaning against the shower wall, Gabriel holds me until the water starts to run cold. I vaguely perceive his words of sorrow, “I didn’t mean it, baby. I’m so sorry I hurt you. Never again. Please forgive me, Anna. I need you so much.”

  The jolt of cold water hitting my back pulls me out of my vulnerable daze and I slowly return my feet to the floor. He releases me and, not meeting his gaze, I pull a fluffy white towel off the bar, wrapping it around myself. Grabbing another one, I wrap it around my dripping wet hair. The sound of the water shutting off comes from behind me.

  Reentering the bedroom, I throw off the towel and grab a powder blue short pajama set out of my suitcase. I’m dressed by the time Gabriel comes out of the bathroom, wearing only the black boxer briefs he had on before. We just look at each other for a minute or two. Standing with his feet slightly apart, he clears his throat, looking unsure. “What now?”

  “Now you leave,” I softly say, ignoring the pain in my chest. Ignoring the pain in his green eyes.

  “Baby, I can’t,” he replies hoarsely.

  Not wanting to acknowledge his feelings, I walk over to the bed and start pulling down the comforter and sheets. Throwing off five of the Eiderdown pillows, because really, no one needs six pillows on a bed, I pretend that I’m not bothered by his presence. I grab a small loaded gun out of my suitcase, check the safety and place it under the pillow. “My flight is tomorrow at noon, Gabriel. Even if you don’t leave now, I’ll be leaving then.”

  He walks over to the pillows on the floor at the end of the bed, picks one up off the ground and places it next to mine. “I’m going with you.” Meeting his piercing stare, I see his resolution.

  “No.” Simple and to the point. The last thing either of us needs is the other. We’re just too . . . combustible together.

  “Why?” he stubbornly asks, crossing his arms over a well-defined chest.

  “Uh, I don’t know, maybe because you shot me.” I climb onto the bed on my knees, facing where he’s standing.

  “I love you.”

  “And I don’t believe you.” Lifting up the comforter, I lay down underneath it.

  “Forgive me.” Dropping his arms from the defensive position, he circles around the bed to stand over me.

  “I do.” Turning my head to the side, I look up at him.

  “No you don’t, not really. Forgive me, Annabelle.” Always seeing things I don’t want him to, he’s been trouble from the start.

  “Fine, I don’t and I can’t.” Will it make him happier to hear the truth?

  His hand digs under my pillow, pulling out the gun. Staring up at him, the thought briefly crosses my mind that he’s going to shoot me again. The memory of him doing it the first time is still fresh, like it happened two days ago, not two years ago. The emotional pain didn’t fade the way the physical did.

  He holds it out to me. “Take it.”

  Cautiously, I do. “What now?” I mimic his earlier question.

  He holds his arms out wide, taking a few steps back. “Shoot me.” Stopping when he comes up against an armchair, he stands there with expectation written all over his handsome features.

  Gabriel

  Anna glances down at the gun thoughtfully, her brows drawn together. “Why?”

  Knowing it’s going to hurt like hell, I go on, “The way I see it, for us to be together again, you need to forgive me.” I gesture to the gun. “So, do it. Shoot me. It’ll put us on equal footing. I love you enough to prove it to you in this way.” Tapping an index finger on my torso, where I think one of my lungs is, I tell Anna, “Right here.”

  Her eyes go to the spot on my skin where I pointed. She looks sad, but slightly intrigued at the same time. “I don’t want to.”

  “Anna,” I urge recklessly, “I need you to do this.”

  Her face crumbles and a few tears stream down. “I can’t.” She swallows visibly. “You see, I do love you. More than you ever did me, obviously. Unlike you, I’m not capable of pulling the trigger.”

  At her words, I rush forward, climbing onto and over the bed. Sliding under the blanket with her, I pull her up against me, kissing her wherever my lips happen to land. Her tears taste salty on my lips. She’s soft in my arms, smells so fresh and sweet.

  As she shakes her head, I pull my head back to look at her face. “No, Gabriel. I can’t do that with you.”

  “I know, I understand. I’ll just hold you tonight, baby.” And I do. She falls asleep moments later after letting out a shuddering sigh. I blissfully hold her while contemplating tying her up to make sure she’s still here in the morning. I’m afraid to fall asleep, you never know with this one. At least an hour later, as I drift off to sleep myself, I feel optimistic about us. She admitted that she still loves me and, even though I already knew it, hearing her speak it out loud is momentous.

  The next morning, open curtains are letting an annoying amount of sunlight shine on my face. It takes only a second of consciousness for me to remember where I am and why. But most importantly, who I’m with. Turning to the side, I swing out a searching arm for Anna.

  She’s gone.

  Lifting my head up just enough to utilize both ears, the hotel suite is quiet. I curse my ability to sleep so heavily and jump out of bed. Gripping the bedroom doorknob, I yank the door open, making it slam into the wall. I’m sure my expression is one of surprise to find Anna and Jackson standing in the living room of the suite, dressed like young professionals. Suitcases are neatly lined up next to them with the handles raised.

  Anna raises the gun she’s holding.

  “I love you. Goodbye Gabriel.” Familiar words.

  She fires. Something I was so not expecting. My body jerks back from where I’m standing. The sound of the shot is deafening for a moment. Or maybe that’s my shock.

  “And now I really do forgive you,” I hear her say, sounding far away.

  At first, I don’t even understand where I’ve been shot. Standing there, looking dumbly down at my chest, I wait for the blood to appear. Not seeing a hole, I wonder if she missed me.

  Jackson’s the next person to speak, his deep voice rumbling with amusement, “A little higher, boy toy.” My hand whips up to my throat, but comes back dry. I hear Jackson mumble, “Dumbass.” Yeah, because when he’s been shot, he’s so sharp.

  The pain hits me suddenly in my left shoulder. This time my hand comes back red with blood. “Holy shit, Anna.” I know it’s unlikely to kill me in that spot, but damn.

  Leaning back against the wall, I slide down so I’m sitting on the ground, keeping eye contact with Anna the entire time. I’m relieved to see the pain in her eyes, that this wasn’t easy for her. She walks closer to me, the carpet muffling the sound of her heels. Jackson leaves the room then returns with a white hand towel, handing it to me with a bland look on his face.

  Anna looks about ready to cry as she looks down on me, biting her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. The tough front only makes me love her all the more. I’m holding the towel against my shoulder now because it’s not like Jackson was offering to do it for me. I’m trying to keep in what’s left of the blood in my body. Hurts like a bitch. Glancing at the suitcases, I grunt out, “Where are we going?”

  “I’m going to Paris. Jackson’s off to Mexico City.” She’s regained her control and getting an unfocused look in her eyes, as if mentally somewhere else.

  I raise one eyebrow, attempting to give her a look of sarcastic disbelief, but probably failing miserably. “You’re actually telling me? Does that mean I’m invited?”

  She slowly shakes her head. “No, Gabriel. You see, I finally do forgive you, but the cycle needs to end now. We’re over.” With that, she walks
over to her suitcase and grips the handle. Jackson’s already opening the suite door, rolling his own suitcase away.

  As I watch her leave me once again, I shout out after her before the heavy door slowly closes itself, “You shot me in the shoulder, Annabelle! I know what that means! And I love you too, baby!”

  Somehow, I manage to smile through my pain. She really does love me.

  And that little tidbit about Paris was no goodbye.

  That was an invitation.

  Chapter 41

  Gabriel

  Paris, France - two weeks later

  I’d thought that all I needed to do was get to Paris to be with Annabelle. Wrong. It’s not like I expected her to be waiting at the airport for me, but I figured she’d find me as she had before. I’ve been here for a week and for all I know she could have already moved on by now. Visiting Marie Perrot again didn’t do any good, considering her burly butler won’t even let me past the front door.

  Max came with me to Paris since I’m still healing from my gunshot wound. That I wear like a badge of honor. My baby gave me this injury. ‘Cause she loves me. If she didn’t truly love me, she would have walked away from me in New York without shooting me, revealing indifference. Shooting me was her way of saying that she was willing to give us another shot. Pun intended. A crime of passion is what it was, and it showed just how passionate she still feels towards me. Maybe when the wound is all the way healed and just a scar, I’ll have the outline of a heart tattooed around it. Then I’ll make her kiss it all better every day.

  If I ever find her.

  Max, of course, thinks I’m insane. Crazy in love is what I tell him. ‘Cause that’s how Anna and I roll. It was just a love cap. Max is not amused when I tell him these things. He usually mumbles something about us deserving each other, with the word ‘loco’ thrown in somewhere.

  So, here I am again, trying to find Anna in Paris. I swear I’m going to find someone who can implant a GPS chip in that girl. It’d take a satellite to keep track of her. I wonder if Porky’s still around . . . .