Young Love Murder Part 38

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 ident.i.ty 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 a.s.sa.s.sin. 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 s.h.i.+t, 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 s.h.i.+fts 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 f.u.c.k 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 appet.i.te, 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 s.n.a.t.c.h 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 G.o.d, 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 dumba.s.s 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 st.u.r.diness of the chair I'm slumped in. d.a.m.n, st.u.r.dy 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 sc.r.a.pe 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. f.u.c.ker 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 h.e.l.l 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 p.i.s.sing 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 pa.s.s. 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 a.s.sa.s.sins. 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 s.h.i.+eld, he has a gun to her head. No, she's not sleeping, but pa.s.sed 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 s.h.i.+eld.

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 relis.h.i.+ng 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 h.e.l.l is Jackson?

The sound of gla.s.s shattering is accompanied by bullets spraying into the small entryway. Shards of gla.s.s, 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 b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt and gray dress pants. Apparently, he didn't know Jackson was 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 pa.s.senger 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 st.i.tches. Surprisingly, I'm relieved. Brent's her friend and Anna would have been upset had he been seriously injured or killed.

From the looks of the inside of the house, the four kidnappers were squatting at the vacation home of the Greek businessman. Won't he be in for a surprise when he's contacted about the dead bodies? The house was a little outside of town, but the nearest neighbor lived down the beach. Someone probably heard the shots.

Anna's head is resting on my lap for the drive, but no matter how long I stare at her face, she's still unresponsive. No slight movement like in normal sleep, but dead weight. Again, I wish I'd had the opportunity to shoot one of those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds for doing this to her. Unfortunately, I was the bait. She would hate this, being helpless. Plus, she missed all the action. Like any good predator, Anna had to be taken down from a distance with sedatives. I can't imagine any other way they could have taken her alive.

Brus.h.i.+ng back the hair from her face, I lean down and kiss her softly on the lips. Sitting in the back of the dark van, I finally let the immense relief wash over me. She's safe and within the next twenty-four hours, we'll be on a plane to somewhere else. It doesn't matter where because we'll be together. And maybe having Jackson along for the ride isn't so bad after all. To think what would've happened had he not been in Greece with us. Perhaps our story would have ended as Annabelle's parents' did, with both of us dead.

Driving through Athens, a phone starts ringing with a ringtone of Adam Ant's "Goody Two Shoes". It doesn't wake Annabelle unfortunately. Brent answers with a, "h.e.l.lo?" Must be Simon from what he's saying, confirming that we have Anna and that everyone's alright. He ends the conversation with, "Okay, see you then."

Stroking Anna's hair, I realize I'm about to meet her parent, uncle, whatever. Wonder if he'll have a shotgun with him. Instead of the normal fatherly warning of owning a shotgun, Simon will probably just promise to make me disappear if I hurt her. Maybe he'll be creative and throw in a torture threat for good measure. I'd like to think that Annabelle and I are done hurting each other. I'll do everything in my power to never hurt this girl again. Cupping her cheek, I lean down to give her another soft kiss on the forehead. Yeah, we're done with all that aren't we, baby?

Jackson barely manages to squeeze the van into a tight s.p.a.ce just down the street from the house. Brent gets out to slide open the door for me. Gathering Anna in my arms, I climb out of the van and start walking to the house. Through the windows I see that the lights are on inside. Jackson jogs ahead of me and opens the front door, holding it for me. Brent is at my back and I can feel his alertness to everything going on around us. We don't know who else may be in Athens gunning for us. Relieved that I didn't just take a sniper bullet to the back of the head while walking to the front door, I step into the entryway.

Stopping in my tracks, I just stare at the man a few feet in front of me. Strange, I pictured him looking differently, maybe taller. Don't get me wrong, the guy is in great shape for being middle-aged and not bad looking either. But I guess I was expecting an elegant James Bond type, wearing a tux or something. This guy is more inconspicuous. He has curly medium brown hair and brown eyes. He's of average height and dressed in plain clothing. Attractive, but not movie star handsome. He returns my stare, as if giving me time to take in his presence. Perhaps he's also taking in mine.

Brent pa.s.ses me, heading for the kitchen, probably to patch up his wound. I s.h.i.+ft Annabelle in my arms and Simon steps forward, reaching out to take her from me. Keeping eye contact with him, I shake my head and walk down the narrow hallway to her room. The sound of the shower already running clues me in Jackson's whereabouts. Using the toe of my boot to nudge her door open, I enter and lay her down over the comforter.

Not turning around, because I can feel him behind me, I just stand there looking down at her. "Do you know yet who's doing this?"

"I think you know who it is," he answers.

Feeling a sense of despair, because I can no longer live in ignorant bliss, my chin drops. "I was hoping it wasn't, but I couldn't think of anyone else it could be, at least not anyone else that I know of."

"I'm leaving on a plane tonight to take care of it."

Resigned to what must to be done, I nod wearily. Looking over my shoulder, I meet his gaze. "Thank you."

His eyes s.h.i.+ft from my face to the girl on the bed. "If you hurt her again-"

"Then I'll shoot myself," I say honestly.

A thoughtful expression crosses his face. "Yes, I believe you would." With that remark, Simon is gone. And a few seconds after that, the front door slams shut. Feeling relief and hope at the same time, I just stand there, watching the rise and fall of her chest.

Liking Jackson's shower idea, but not wanting to be separated from Annabelle, even by a wall, I sit down at the foot of the bed. The mattress bounces but still she sleeps. Reaching down, I tug off my boots and strip out of my cargo pants and t-s.h.i.+rt. Crawling up the bed, I pull her into my arms and fall asleep almost immediately.

Annabelle Holy c.r.a.p, my head hurts. This is worse than the time I drank an entire bottle of Irish whiskey in Dublin. This is even worse than the time when Jackson kicked me in the head during training. Someone get me some drugs, please! Of course, that's what has me feeling like s.h.i.+t in the first place.

Groaning, I blink open my eyes, only to look into a green pair not a foot away. Okay, what happened to me being kidnapped? Bad dream? Feeling ultra-dehydrated, I rasp out, "What happened?"

He chuckles softly. "I saved the day, with minimal help, and got the girl."

"Did you now?" Glancing over his head, squinting, I see the pale morning light s.h.i.+ning through the white curtains. "d.a.m.n, it's a new day again isn't it?"

He grabs both of my hands in his. "A new beginning."

Raising my eyebrows, I give him my best skeptical look. "Is it now?"

His smile falters. "I love you, Annabelle." His eyes plead with me to believe him.

Reaching out to cup his jaw, I whisper, "I know."

Pulling me closer, until my body is flush with his, he attempts to kiss me but I avert my face. Uncertainly, he says my name, "Annabelle?"

"No offense, Gabriel, but I haven't brushed my teeth or showered in two days, so your amorous attentions will have to wait."

His laugh is louder this time, heartfelt, and I find myself being carried into the bathroom. He gently sets me down on the counter. "Wait right there, baby." Leaning over the tub, he starts the shower and fiddles with the k.n.o.bs until he's satisfied with the temperature.

Feeling awkward and grimy, I start pulling off my tank top. He's only wearing a pair of boxer briefs and smirks at me as he strips them off. I roll my eyes and twist around to grab my toothbrush and apply some toothpaste to it. Then I get to work preventing cavities. Not that the a.s.sholes gave me any food while in their care. Food is definitely next on the agenda after a shower. Finis.h.i.+ng up, I wipe my mouth with a hand towel. When I turn back around, Gabriel is there ready to a.s.sist me with the rest of my clothing. He's so helpful. Stepping in, I'm pampered and washed in the shower, then watch as Gabriel soaps himself up.

Once clean, I'm not surprised when I find myself against the shower wall with my legs wrapped around him, being made love to. But I am enjoying his amorous attentions. Gabriel m.u.f.fles the sound of my enjoyment with his lips on mine. I return the favor when he groans into my mouth. Hugging his body to mine, I know that I'll never let him go again.

"I love you too, Gabriel," I whisper into his neck. "Forever."

In response, he kisses me like it'll be our last. Wanting to rea.s.sure him that nothing will tear us apart again, I rub my hand up and down his wet back as he pulls his lips away from mine. Shutting off the water, he dries both of us off, quiet the entire time. Following me into the bedroom, he says from behind me, "I'll go make you something to eat."

Turning around, I wrap my arms around his waist. "Thanks. They didn't feed me."

A hand cups my chin, lifting my face to this. I'm startled by the intensity in his eyes, the pain. "I thought I'd lost you again, Annabelle."