Young Love Murder

by April Brookshire

  He contemplates my question then points to the right. “That way is mostly residential for quite a few blocks.” Then he turns on his heel, expecting me to follow. “She would have gone in the direction of the shops.” He doesn’t hesitate in his assertion, but I get the feeling that he’s now masking his worry with false bravado.

  The street is mostly empty, with people in their homes for dinner, relaxing for the coming evening. Not even a block away, we come across a mess on the sidewalk of spilled groceries. Vegetables are scattered out of the brown paper bag and a jar of sauce is cracked on the sidewalk.

  Jackson withdrawing his gun has me doing the same, keeping it low against my thigh as a kid passes us riding a bike. “Jackson, it doesn’t mean it’s her.” But I know that the dread on his face is reflected on mine. He crouches down before the items on the ground and pulls something out from them, holding it up for me to see. It looks like a dart.

  Then I realize what it is. Anyone who’s seen enough action flicks or played enough video games would. A tranquilizer dart is not your normal grocery store merchandise. Helpless rage overcomes me and, with a yell, I lash out by kicking some random item on the ground into the street.

  Jackson calmly stands and starts walking back in the direction of the house. Knowing that I have no choice but to let him take the lead in this situation, I follow him down the street and back inside the house. “What now?” I ask almost belligerently.

  He pulls out his phone. “Now, we call Simon.” His tone is controlled, in a way that tells me he’s holding onto what little control he possesses by a thread.

  I listen to his side of the phone conversation, half lost in my own thoughts. Our journey to Athens must have not been as undetected as we thought. Jackson gets off the phone, unhappier than he was before.

  “What now?” I repeat.

  He grimly replies, “Now, we wait.”

  Chapter 47

  Gabriel

  So we waited all night and into the morning.

  At one point late last night, while Jackson was dozing in and out of sleep on the couch and I was trying to do the same on a divan, I cried. I’m man enough not to be ashamed of it. All I could think about was whether or not she was still alive, praying that she was. Willing to sell my soul to save her, but not knowing who to offer it up to.

  In the morning Jackson showers first, while I man the phones. Then it’s my turn to shower. As I’m in there, I think about our situation. Simon will be arriving at the airport late tonight. Brent should be here in just a few hours. Porky is supposedly close to confirming the identity of the nameless enemy behind all of this.

  Two years of emptiness just to find her and maybe lose her again. But this time I won’t be able to handle my grief. I’d go insane. I’ve loved Anna the girl and I’ve loved Anna the woman. I’ve loved Anna the high school student and I’ve loved Anna the assassin. And I’ll kill anyone who hurts her. I punch the shower tile only to hurt my hand. My life was nothing before I met her. I was nothing without her. Together, we’re something amazing.

  Death brought us together, death tore us apart. Now, it seems as if more death is destined to bring us together once again. Let it not be our own.

  Rinsing the blood off my knuckles, I turn off the shower and dry myself. Once dressed, I enter the living room to see a silent and still Jackson looking out the window. “The call came to the landline.”

  Anxious, I ask, “And?”

  “We won’t be able to wait for Simon, but thankfully Brent will be here before we have to go.” Jackson looks like shit, not getting much sleep himself. His normal antagonizing behavior is absent.

  I let out a long breath. “Annabelle told me about your parents. I can’t help but think that it’s like history playing itself out all over again.”

  A pained expression flashes across Jackson’s face. “It’s not the same. My father went in alone, without Simon.”

  “We’ll be going in without Simon.” Not that I’d be willing to wait.

  He nods jerkily. “Yes, but we’ll have Brent with us.”

  “It’s professionals, isn’t it? Not like before.”

  He nods again. “Maybe, but even amateurs can get their hands on tranquilizer darts.”

  “They want me.” It’s a statement of fact, not a question.

  “Yes.” His eyes flicker to mine. The color is so like Annabelle’s.

  “I’m willing.” A trade would be worth it to save her.

  “Won’t matter, they’d just kill you both.”

  “I love her.” It explains so much but solves nothing.

  He looks at me for a long time, neither of us speaks until he finally murmurs, “I know.” Then he laughs, shaking his head. “Good luck with that.”

  I grin wryly. “I don’t need luck, just her.”

  “You’re such a girl.” Jackson gives me a genuine smile, perhaps a first, but he quickly sobers up as both of our thoughts return to Annabelle.

  “Jackson, I can’t lose her again,” I tell him somberly.

  His face strained, he leaves the room.

  Brent shows up several hours later, taking a taxi from the airport, looking much the same as he did when we last met. Really, his concern is appreciated, but you’d think it was his sister or future wife in danger. Jackson finally shuts him up and explains what’s to come.

  When his attention shifts from Jackson to me, I brace myself for a fight. “You,” he pauses, breathing hard. “You aren’t going with us.”

  Standing in the entryway, I defiantly cross my arms over my chest. “Not up to you.”

  He makes a scoffing noise. “You’d be just as likely to shoot Annabelle as save her.”

  I take a step forward, intending to put my fist in his face, but Jackson steps between us. “Settle the fuck down, both of you, or you’ll be staying here.” Empty threat, of course, he needs us.

  Deciding that I’ll get violent if I have to look at Brent’s face any longer, I storm off to the kitchen to scrounge up something to eat. As I’m about to lift the banana to my mouth, I wonder if Anna is being fed. No longer having an appetite, I have to force myself to eat the banana and a sandwich. The last thing Anna needs is for me faint at the moment I’m supposed to be rescuing her.

  We have so little information. We don’t know who took her, other than they’re using her to get to me. Probably saw us together yesterday and took the opportunity to snatch her when she went to the market by herself.

  We’re to meet them at sunset in Rafina, a small town outside of Athens less than an hour’s drive away. The address provided over the phone is residential, from what Porky’s been able to find out. The place is listed as being owned by a Greek businessman who’s currently out of the country. So, the question is, is it locals that took Anna or some person or group who followed us here to Greece?’

  I suppose it doesn’t really matter because they’ll all end up dead either way.

  Annabelle

  Through a cloudy haze, I slowly gain consciousness. Vague memories come back to me. Going to the market, the dart, the annoyance.

  My first instinct upon realization is to lash out. Doesn’t happen since I find my wrists lashed together. My next instinct has me taking in my surroundings. I’m trying to focus on what’s around me, but there’s a dazed feeling to my senses. I’m still incredibly groggy from the drugs in my system. My vision is fuzzy and my head feels numb.

  Rapidly blinking my eyes, I squeeze them shut before opening them again. Oh my god, I must have been abducted by homeless people. At the very least, they’re really poor people. I’m thinking about what a dump the place is when I realize that I’m in a steel shed. Quit being a dumbass Annabelle, focus.

  Still feeling a little loopy from the aftereffects of the dart I remember yanking out, I realize that I need to use common sense. The tranquilizer must have knocked me out for a good while because I’ve never had to pee so badly in my life. Rocking slightly in place, I test the sturdiness of the chair I’m slumped
in. Damn, sturdy and metal. Not that I’m exactly sure wood would have been any better. The only light in the place is coming through the small windows near the low ceiling, which I suppose I could crawl out of, using the chair, if my wrists and ankles weren’t tied together. The shed is actually large, the size of a small bedroom, but empty of anything but me, my chair and the dirt below us.

  One thing’s for sure, I need more information and a weapon. Having only one option at the moment, I start screaming for help. It even helps to clear my head of the remainder of the drugs in my system. But I feel a headache coming on. My yelling is of course rewarded when I hear the scrape of metal as one of the doors is slid open. I get my first look at my captors. Older than me by at least a decade or two, they’re olive skinned with dark hair and eyes. Maybe Greek, maybe Italian, but soon to be dead.

  They stand there looking at me curiously, as if not sure what to do with me. I decide to make a suggestion, “I need to use the bathroom.”

  One says something in Greek to the other then walks over to lean down and start untying my ankles. Hmm, to kick or not to kick? These dudes don’t even have their guns out, which means they probably think I’m harmless. Tsk-tsk, shame on them. Shame on me if I act out of impatience and don’t wait for the right time.

  The one who did the untying grabs me by the arm, not too roughly, but I want to elbow him all the same. As they lead me out of the shed and into the sunlight, I get a good look at our location. Hearing waves crash and smelling the salt of the ocean, I realize that we’re on the coast. The large white house they’re leading me to has me wondering why I was trussed up in a shack out back. Scare tactic? I’m shaking in my flip flops.

  Going through a back entrance, we run into another man. He’s younger, probably late twenties. Fucker checks me out. That one better not get any ideas in his greasy head. On the criminal social ladder, he is so beneath me. He says something in Greek to the two men leading me down the narrow hallway and they all start laughing. Just to startle them, I begin laughing along with them.

  The men give me a weird look and the one holding my arm says something to me. He’s probably asking if I speak the language. Note to self: Learn Greek. He rolls his eyes at the blank look on my face and starts hustling me down the hallway again. Abruptly stopping, he pushes me through a dark doorway then flips a switch. Praise the lord, it’s a bathroom. Spinning on my heel, I hold my tied wrists in his face, lifting my eyebrows in an ‘I’m waiting’ manner.

  He shakes his head and pushes me further into the bright room to slam the door shut. First things first, I take care of business. With my freaking wrists tied together. What an experience. I clumsily wash my hands and leave the water running while I look in the cabinet. It’s empty of anything useful, dammit.

  Leaning against the white porcelain sink, I take the time to think about my situation. Most likely, I was taken as bait for Gabriel. It’s a good thing I was caught instead of Gabriel, because if they’d gotten him he’d be dead already. Of course, that means they plan to lure him here. But do they realize that’ll bring Jackson also? Do they know who we are? Not me, obviously, otherwise they’d be taking more precautions. My guess is they’re Greeks who heard about the contract and found out that we were in Athens. How the hell did they find us?

  Time’s up. The door starts opening and my patience has run out. I reach up to grab the back of the guy’s head and ram my knee into his face. He drops to the floor, but won’t be out for long. Before anyone else can rush in at me, I put my back against the wall adjacent to the doorway. After ten seconds there’s no shout of alarm, so I lean down and feel around the waistband of the guy’s jeans until I find a gun at his hip. Checking for bullets, I see that I’ve got four shots. As much as I want to shoot this guy in the back of the head, there’s no silencer.

  “I’ll be back for you,” I promise the unconscious man, kicking him in the head for pissing me off. Too bad I’m wearing flip flops. Dragging his body into the bathroom, I shut the door quietly behind me.

  Easing down the empty hallway, I listen for any sounds coming from the rooms I pass. Deciding that I may as well take care of the threat while I’m here, with my back against the wall, I make my way further into the house. Choosing the direction I can hear male voices coming from, I inch along the wall. Running into a kitchen first would be nice, to find a knife for the rope around my wrists. I’m about to turn a corner when I feel a sting on my left shoulder. Whipping my head to the left, I see the young guy grinning at me from about ten feet away and glance down at the dart sticking out of me. Jeez, I really hate that creep. He better not . . . .

  Gabriel

  As requested by Annabelle’s kidnappers, at sunset I’m walking alone up to the front door of the large white house. Jackson’s hiding behind a copse of bushes about thirty feet away and Brent is somewhere out back. When Jackson pretended to be me over the phone he was told to come alone and unarmed, without the police. Well I’ve got something better than cops, trained assassins. Jackson said the man on the phone spoke broken English, but was clear enough about coming unarmed. So my weapons are hidden.

  Climbing the front steps, the door opens before I can use the metal knocker and a large man is standing there with a gun pointed at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t manage to utter one syllable before there’s a bullet-shaped hole in his forehead. Later, I’ll reflect quietly on a bullet traveling so closely to my own head. Jackson’s so lucky I’m in love with his sister. The guy’s body falls onto the planks of the front porch with a thud as I hastily get out of the crossfire. Pulling out one of my guns, I take shelter against the stucco wall. Jackson should be joining me momentarily.

  Jackson eases out from behind the bushes with the rifle swinging at his hip from a strap around his neck and a pistol pointed in the direction of the front door. He reaches my position and leans against the wall next to me. Shots coming from the back of the house let us know Brent’s status. Jackson is about to push off the wall and storm in when I put my hand on his chest, holding him back. “I go first.”

  He gives me a long look before nodding.

  With my gun out, I flip around the corner and into the house, to come almost face to face with a man holding a slumped, sleeping Annabelle in front of him. Using her as a shield, he has a gun to her head. No, she’s not sleeping, but passed out. Well, doesn’t that make me want to kill him slowly? The sound of more gunfire can be heard from the back of the house. Guess Brent’s not having such an easy time of it.

  “Throw down your gun,” he orders in heavily accented English. The guy’s huge, dwarfing Annabelle, but not so large that she isn’t an effective shield.

  Jackson’s still around the corner, so I know I’m not completely defenseless as I lower my weapon to the tiled floor. Especially since I have another one tucked at my lower back. He looks over his shoulder, as if searching for his backup. With an aggravated noise, he turns back to me. Slowly, he backs against the yellow wall behind him while still pointing the gun at me. He lets Anna drop to the floor like a rag doll. My first instinct is to rush to her, but I know I’ll be dead before I get there. The man gives me a malicious smile that I’ve never before seen on Anna or Jackson’s face and I realize the difference between him and them. He’s enjoying this and relishing the thought of killing me. Jeez man, I don’t even know you.

  “You are worth a lot of money,” he says.

  “Priceless,” I comment wryly.

  Confusion flashes in his dark eyes, but when his evil grin returns I know I’m about to die. Glancing down at Annabelle, I feel immense regret for what could have been. Where the hell is Jackson?

  The sound of glass shattering is accompanied by bullets spraying into the small entryway. Shards of glass, from a window to our left, fall to the ground and shatter. It’s over in a matter of seconds. The guy is dead before he lands on the floor. His body is bullet-ridden, bloodstains spreading on his white button-down shirt and gray dress pants. Apparently, he didn’t know Jackson wa
s outside. I can’t believe I owe that jerk now. The fact that I just risked my life to save his sister is irrelevant. She means everything to me and I would have done it regardless.

  I fall on my knees by Annabelle, praying that she’s just knocked out and not dead. A thought I didn’t let myself contemplate when I first entered the house. Grabbing her and pulling her onto my lap, I hear someone running down the hallway just ahead. Pulling out my other gun, I point it in the direction the noise is coming from.

  Brent comes to a stop at the entrance of the foyer. “Is that all of them?” With blood on his arm, he’s breathing hard, eyes roving around wildly.

  With my world narrowing down to the girl in my arms, I vaguely hear Jackson tell him that he’ll help him sweep the house and grounds. While they do that, I sit with my back against the wall and hold Annabelle in my lap, my weapon ready in case anyone else needs to be killed.

  Chapter 48

  Gabriel

  Exhausted from carrying Annabelle to the van, and refusing to let anyone else take over, I still manage to climb in and gently lay her down on the back seat. She hasn’t come to yet and after checking her for injuries, the only thing we can guess is that she’s still drugged. Or drugged again. Maybe they’ve kept her like this since they took her. So glad they’re dead, but I wish I’d had a chance to take out at least one of them myself.

  Brent takes a seat on the passenger side, while Jackson drives us back to Athens. The plan is to stay there long enough to grab our things and allow Anna to wake up before heading to the airport. Brent informs us that he took out one guy out back and another in the house, which makes four total. The one in the house had enough warning to cause some trouble for Brent. He was wounded, but not badly, just a bullet that grazed his arm. The cut is deep so he’ll need stitches. Surprisingly, I’m relieved. Brent’s her friend and Anna would have been upset had he been seriously injured or killed.