Young Love Murder Part 37

That makes me lose my appet.i.te. I push my half-eaten food away, taking a drink of water. Gabriel grabs onto my hand and squeezes it. Nice, but it doesn't rea.s.sure me of anything but his affection for me.

Back in the cabin, we all fall asleep in the clothes we're wearing. There are only two seats to lie down on, so Gabriel makes a bed on the floor next to where I'm sleeping on the padded bench. Other than reaching up to pinch me on the b.u.t.t once, he behaves himself.

When we wake up hours later, we're at to the first stop. Pa.s.sengers get off and others get on. From here on out, we'll have to be more alert. The next stop is only an hour and a half away and then the s.h.i.+p is on its way to the final destination of Patras. After the second stop of the morning, we make our way back to the restaurant for some breakfast. We still have six more hours on this boat and kill most of the time out on the deck, checking out the pa.s.sing scenery.

It really is beautiful here. I tell myself that in no way am I to think of this as romantic in any way. The ferry is taking a route between some of the Greek islands and the view of the rocky sh.o.r.es in the distance is amazing.

Jackson gets off first in Patras, acting as a scout. He's scoping for people who are just asking for us to shoot them, while also procuring a taxi for us. It's a short taxi ride to the train station. The train will take us all the way to Athens, where I will in no way think of me and Gabriel as being on a romantic getaway. Look what happened after Barbados, Annabelle.

From the way Gabriel keeps smiling at me and trying to hold my hand, he's obviously thinking of things that way. To get his mind out of the gutter and the bed he's probably picturing in Athens, I announce at the train station, "Jackson and I have decided that we're charging you for your protection." Jackson does a little choke-laugh and I pretend not to notice.

Gabriel just gives me an unconcerned look. "Okay."

"Fifty thousand each," I quickly say.

He scowls, pointing at Jackson. "In that case, can I fire him? I'd really prefer to be alone with you and it'd cut the cost in half."

Smiling smugly at him, I shake my head. "Sorry, we're a packaged deal on this job."

"Thank G.o.d he doesn't want to be alone with me," Jackson jokes. "I'd have to charge triple for that."

Chapter 46.

Gabriel Sitting across the small round table from Anna, alone for the first time in days, she avoids my stare. My cooking isn't that good, but she's digging into her omelet like it's laced with crack. Eat away woman, I can be patient. Especially if I get to watch Anna wearing that robe while I fantasize that nothing's underneath it but skin.

We arrived in Athens yesterday and settled into the mysterious Uncle Simon's home. Anna locked herself into her room almost immediately, claiming that she had contacts to call, emails to send, murders to plot, nails to paint. You know, the usual. It was plainly all a ploy to avoid me. Like I said, I'm patient.

When I woke this morning, I heard the shower running from the hall bathroom. After a quick walk through the house, I realized it was just me and the person in the shower. I started making breakfast for myself and whoever was in there. When Anna was the one to walk out of the bathroom, I had to hide my smirk, happy to see her and happy not to be forced to give the extra omelet to her brother. When I asked, she didn't know where Jackson had gone off to. My hope is that he won't be back anytime soon, or this week.

When she finishes, grabbing her dishes and mine, she mumbles, "I'll wash these, then I have to make some more calls."

"I'm bored," I say in a petulant tone before she can escape.

She's already halfway to the sink when she turns around, still holding one dirty dish in each hand, with cups and silverware balancing on top of them. "Watch TV."

As she puts them in the sink, I talk to her back, "It's mostly in Greek."

"Go online," she suggests, turning on the water.

"I want to get out of the house. I've never been to Greece." The plan is to do normal couple things with her today, as if this was a planned vacation, not a hasty getaway.

She's silent as she does her work. Once the forks, silverware and cups are all on the drying rack, she finally turns around, leaning back against the sink, gripping the countertop behind her and biting her full bottom lip. "You can't go out alone." She already looks resigned, and too d.a.m.n beautiful even without any makeup on.

I manage to hold back a triumphant smile. "I know."

With an irritated huff, she walks out of the kitchen. "Give me twenty minutes to get ready."

Rus.h.i.+ng back to my room, I take a quick shower and get dressed. Not knowing where to hide my weapons, I settle on slipping my gun in the back waistband of my jeans and pulling my black t-s.h.i.+rt over it. I also stuff a sheathed knife into my boots, wriggling it around into a comfortable position. We were careful while traveling here, staying low-key, so unlikely to have been followed. But you never know.

I run into Anna in the hallway and grab her hand before she moves away, pulling her along with me out the door. Smiling at her while she locks the front door, I yank on her skirt. "You look adorable."

She gives me an 'Are you serious?' look, lifts up the hem of her skirt to show me a glimpse of the blades strapped around her thighs, then nonchalantly descends down the steps. I've always had a weakness for a woman who carries weapons so close to her most dangerous one of all. If I said that out loud, she'd probably smack me.

The city is crowded, with this time of year being big for tourism. It's also the warmest time of year, hence Anna's summery outfit. I'm guessing her other weapons are in that bag she has draped over her shoulder. She explains that an area called Thission is within walking distance. Not caring less where we go, as long as she's with me, I tell her to lead the way. Her attempt at act as if she isn't just crazy about me as I am her is amusing. But at the same time it's frustrating. It's a good thing I'm so d.a.m.n patient.

Surprisingly, even with the heat and the sweat pooling at my lower back where the gun is against my skin, it ends up being one of the best days I've had in a long time. Independent as she is, I still try to treat her like a lady whenever she'll let me get away with it, by opening doors and picking up the tab. We don't do anything particularly special. Just browse in some shops, stop at a small restaurant for lunch and walk off the calories in a park. It's great to have time alone with her.

Throughout the day I subtly steal a touch here and there. At first, it's just the brush of my body against hers. Later, I move up to placing my hand on her lower back. When she stiffens under my touch, I pretend not to notice and she gradually relaxes. By the time we're leaving the park, she's finally let her guard down and is laughing at my jokes.

The sidewalk in front of a line of shops a couple blocks from Simon's house is crowded. Taking the opportunity, and excuse, I grab onto her hand and pull her along with me as I wind my way through the tourists. Once past the people, and once again on a residential street, I keep a firm hold on her hand.

We're still holding hands as we reach the steps of our temporary residence. Jackson's sitting there with an annoyed look on his face. He glances down at our joined hands and rolls his eyes. "Not this c.r.a.p all over again. All I know is, n.o.body better shoot me this time around."

Anna slides her hand from mine, looking uncomfortable. Jackson's not helping my cause. "Shut up, Jackie, before I shoot you in the a.s.s."

Ignoring us and bypa.s.sing Jackson, Anna calls out over her shoulder, "I need to check my email."

Jackson gives me a smug smile. "So, how you liking Athens?"

"I'm liking," I answer casually, adding, "Very romantic."

"Wonder who wants to kill you." Jackson shrugs negligently. "Not that I can't understand why they would want you dead."

"You're an a.s.s."

He chuckles. "I know."

Walking up the stairs past him, I ignore the urge to kick him in the ribs. The house is quiet and after knocking on Anna's door, all I get is an, "I'm busy!"

Realizing that there's nothing for me to do now, I shut myself in my room and lay down on the bed. Drifting off to sleep, I hope it takes a really long time to figure out who wants me dead. I could go on the run and hide out with Annabelle forever.

Annabelle Peeking into Gabriel's room, I see that he's napping. Quietly, I close the door and grab my bag on my way to the front door. With my hand on the doork.n.o.b, I hear Jackson call out, "Running away?"

I stop but don't turn around. "I need air."

"Open a window." The amus.e.m.e.nt in his voice makes me grind my teeth.

Reluctantly, I turn to face him. "I'll be back later."

Jackson is standing there in cargo shorts, no s.h.i.+rt and bare feet. "You don't have to be here, Annie." He motions back towards the hallway with the hand he's holding a gun in. "I can keep loverboy alive and you can get away from here. Go back to Paris, spend time with Marie."

Not wanting to meet his eyes, I glance down the hallway over his shoulder. "He's not your responsibility."

"He's not yours either," Jackson states matter-of-factly.

Spinning around and opening the door, before it shuts, I tell Jackson, "Yes he is." To the empty street, I say, "He's more than that." Then, as if someone is shooting bullets at my feet, I'm out of there.

The closest market is only five blocks away, so I figure that's as good a destination as any. It's not really air that I needed, but s.p.a.ce. Locked in my room, with Gabriel on the other side of the wall gives me no room to think. No air to breathe. d.a.m.n, I need Simon to figure out the client's ident.i.ty so we can end this.

No matter what's happened in the past, I've never wanted Gabriel dead. It would kill me too. Not that I see a future or second chance for us. h.e.l.l, make that a tenth chance. If I weren't so constantly heartbroken by our volatile romance, I'd laugh at the events of the past few years. A bullet to both of our brains would put us out of our misery.

But despite everything, I still love him. It's too bad I can't trust in having my love returned. Like the saying, there's a thin line between love and hate, and for Gabriel, it's a tightrope. Which side he'll fall off of at any given moment is unpredictable.

What's the worst for me is that I've only grown to love him more over the years. No separation or bullet seems to make it fade. All this time spent with him is making it worse. Doing the tourist thing with him today was like some sort of fantasy. The holding hands, the getting along and the love in his eyes. It was like a glimpse of what could have been. What's impossible and stupid of me is to pretend for even a single day. Jackson's presence on the steps was the slap in the face I badly needed, a reminder that it isn't real.

At the market, I only grab enough items to make dinner. Besides the fact that I have to carry it back, I also don't want to get so much I won't be able to use going to the market as an excuse to get away tomorrow.

Walking back to the house, my cell rings. It's Simon, so I answer. "I'm here."

"I'm closing in on the information we need. Porky only has to verify and it'll be taken care of." The authority in his voice and guidance when needed is something I know I can always count on.

"I'll make the hit." I want to be the one to end any threat against Gabriel.

"No, you'll stay where you are."

"Brent then?" I ask. I'm annoyed at being told what to do, but at the same time know that he's the boss. I tend to not like his authority when I don't agree with it.

"No, Annabelle. I'll handle the matter personally."

"Who?"

"When I have confirmation, then you'll know."

"That's it?" I ask, exasperated as always by his vagueness.

"Bye, Annabelle."

As I round the corner to our block, I drop the phone back into my bag. The feel of a sting on my arm has me about to curse summer weather and the mosquitoes that roam. That is, until my vision starts to gray and I pull a dart out of my arm near my shoulder. Then I'm just cursing my own stupidity. Then . . . nothing.

Gabriel The shadows in my room tell me that I've slept till dusk. Feeling groggy from the aftereffects of an afternoon nap, I roll off the bed and come to my feet. My first thought is bathroom and a minute or so later, I'm following through with my second thought, Annabelle.

Her bedroom door is partway open and a gentle push on it shows me that she's not there. Of course not, if she was, the door would be locked to keep me out. Laughing to myself, I saunter down the hallway and practically b.u.mp into Jackson. "What the f.u.c.k, man?"

Ignoring me, he nudges past and stalks to the front door. I notice his tension and my instincts say that he's looking for a fight. I'm kinda feeling relaxed right now, but I guess I could humor him. After standing in the doorway, looking both ways down the street, he grunts and slams it shut. He starts to pace and I a.s.sume that's what I interrupted when we ran into each other.

"What's the matter with you?" I ask, starting to feel his irritation rub off on me.

He barely spares me a glance. "She's not back yet."

Well, there's only one 'she' he could be speaking of. "Anna?"

"She's not answering her cell either." He opens the door again, as if expecting her to magically appear.

Now I'm feeling his worry, a whole lot of it. "Where the h.e.l.l is she?"

He gives me a 'You're a r.e.t.a.r.d' look. "Don't you think I'd be there looking for her, if I knew? Instead of babysitting your helpless a.s.s?"

Not wanting to fight with him when we should be concentrating on Anna, I try to think rationally. "Well, she can't have been gone more than a few hours. I'm sure she'll be back soon."

Again, he seems to not be paying attention to me. He walks to a side table and starts picking up items off it. He tucks a gun into the back waistband of his pants. Extra clips and a wallet are shoved into his pockets. He stares down at a big a.s.s knife as if unsure where to stuff it. It ends up going into his boot, under his pant leg. Finally, he answers, "I have a bad feeling. We're going looking." I'm feeling something similar in my gut.

Before he turns back around, I'm heading down the hallway back to my room. Off the dresser, I grab my gun, a couple clips and a smaller version of the knife Jackson is sporting. Overcompensating much, Jackson? He's texting on his cell phone on the front steps when I exit the wide open front door. My weapons are as concealed as his in cargo pockets and under a baggy t-s.h.i.+rt.

I lock the front door, don't want any surprises when we return, then join him down on the sidewalk. "Which way would she have gone?"

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 a.s.sertion, 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 pa.s.ses 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.