Young Love Murder (35 page)

That only makes me laugh harder. “Mm-hmm,” I say, giving him a skeptical look, as if I question whether or not he would.

He rolls his eyes. “Stop it Anna. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

“Mm-hmm. Sure.”

He lets out a little growl and lunges for me, grabbing both of my arms and pinning me against the back of the couch. “Now I gotcha.”

“Oh no,” I say in fake dismay, throwing my head back, “You got me now.”

He grins triumphantly. 

“But, Gabriel?”

He leans his head down and starts kissing my neck. “Huh?”

“How are you planning on keeping me pinned down while you unzip your pants?”

He nibbles on my earlobe, making me suppress a shiver. “You’re going to unzip for me.”

“No I’m not. I don’t do ex-boyfriends.”

“You
did
me in Paris,” he reminds me, lifting his head so I can see his raised eyebrows.

“I thought we were getting back together,” I grind out through a clenched jaw. “I won’t make
that
mistake again.”

Gabriel sighs in defeat, letting his weight drop onto me. The sigh transforms halfway through into a frustrated grunt. “You’re killing me, Anna.”

I graze my lips against his ear and nibble a little in retaliation. “You’re killing me too, Gabriel.”

His head rears back so that he can look me in the eyes. “There’s no going back, Anna.”

I glare at him. “As if I’d get back together with you after I caught you with that dirty slut.”

He glowers back at me. “I’m not going to apologize for that, Annabelle. I think what
you did
was way worse.”

“Depends on how you look at it.”

Gabriel slowly lifts off me, putting up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “You are such a sociopath, Annabelle.”

Believe it or not, his words hurt. I’m so sick of being so vulnerable to him. “Well, you are such a . . .  stupid boy!”

The stupid boy has the nerve to laugh. I sit up and punch him in the gut. Stupid boy ain’t laughing now. Now he’s too busy grunting in pain.

As I stand up, I brush my black skirt down over my thighs and, head held high, walk back to the open door of the tiny bedroom area of the plane. On my way there, I grab the gun and blade that I left on the bar. Without turning around, I tell Gabriel, stupid boy extraordinaire, “I’m taking a nap. Don’t bother me unless you want a knife in your gut next time.”

I hear him mumble, “Bitch,” and am glad that he can’t see me flinch. While changing into more comfortable clothes, I think about how nice it would be if circumstances were different between us. That he wasn’t such a stupid boy.

Gabriel

God, that girl drives me crazy. My desires keep alternating between wanting to strangle her neck and wanting to put my mouth on it. This is going to be a long flight. Adjusting the crotch area of my black jeans, I try to get comfortable again in my seat.

Less than an hour after Anna went to the room, I’m stripped down to my boxer briefs on the couch, staring at the plastic door that separates us. I’m definitely not liking the word ‘impossible’.

Should I?
Probably not.
Will I?
Probably. 

With the decision made, I get up off the couch and quietly open the small cherry wood bedroom door. After stepping inside, I slowly shut the door behind me. Of course, at the worst moment, turbulence jolts the plane and the door shuts more loudly than I’d planned. I quickly glance over at the bed, but Anna only tosses over from her side to her back and continues to doze. 

Almost in slow motion, I gently lay down on my side next to Anna. Some assassin, she still hasn’t woken up. I decide not to disturb her rest, but I do watch her sleep. The whole “appearances can be deceiving” phrase must have been created for people like Annabelle. She looks like any normal, but beautiful, eighteen-year-old girl. She’s even wearing a Hello Kitty pajama set for Christ’s sake. 

Annabelle reminds me of a deceptively beautiful, poisonous flower. The kind that will kill you with just one taste. Or maybe she’s like the opium flower, highly addictive. God damn, the girl has me using metaphors! I’d tie her up just to piss her off, but no way in hell will she sleep through
that
. I’ll just stare and at her and maybe put my arm around her. 

Well that does it! As soon as I lay my arm across her waist, she jolts awake, pouncing on top of me, straddling me with a knife at my throat.
How the hell did she grab that so fast? Where the hell was she hiding it?

Her face matches her suspicious tone. “What are you doing in here, Gabriel?”

How to answer?
Rude and sarcastic?
Probably.
Truthfully?
Maybe. 

Suddenly, I realize just how weary I feel. Hunting her down, hating her, fighting with her. I’m so tired of all the conflict. A suggestion comes to mind, but I plan to tread carefully. Annabelle’s already moved the knife away from my Adam’s apple and is now sitting cross legged next to where I’m lying. She still looks suspicious, but her facial expression has softened. “Seriously, Gabriel, what do you want now?”

I sigh and stare up at her. “How about a temporary truce?”

“A temporary truce . . . ,” she repeats and trails off, prompting me to elaborate. 

I cautiously put my hand on her knee, squeezing it. “For as long as this flight lasts.”

“What then?” she asks warily.

“Then things are back to, uh, what’s normal for us.”

She shoots me a dirty look. “Are you just trying to get laid?”

I choke on a laugh. Clearing my throat, I tell her, “Well as nice as that would be, that’s not really my, um, main goal. Although, it’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any pus-,” I choke on the word, clearing my throat again. “I mean, it’s been a long time since I’ve had sex with you.”

She grins mischievously, knowingly. “You are such a teenage boy.”

“Go figure,” I say, rolling my eyes. Then I pat my bare chest with the palm of my hand. “Come here, Anna.”

Looking down at me, she stiffens, then tears well in her eyes and she bites her trembling bottom lip. Slowly, cautiously, she moves her body towards mine and lays her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her and damn if it doesn’t feel good. Peaceful. I never realized that wrapping my arms around another person could bring comfort to me. Didn’t even realize I needed to be comforted.

When I feel her tears wetting my chest, I start running my fingers through her hair, hoping to comfort her back. “It’s okay, Anna. We’ll figure this out later. For now, while were on this plane, let’s just forget about everything else. It’s just you and me, baby.”

And I’ll admit that I may have shed one or two tears myself before falling asleep. 

Chapter 26

Gabriel

When we wake up from our nap I have no idea how long we’ve been sleeping. My guess would be two or three hours because I feel refreshed. Our flight left early in the morning from Miami and it’ll take a total of twenty-two hours to reach Sydney. 

I glance down to see the top of Anna’s head where it’s resting on my chest. It’s so peaceful, her sleeping on me, no fighting and no conflict. No her blowing peoples brains out. With her face in repose she looks so deceptively innocent, so freaking beautiful with her full lips slightly open and her eyelashes fanning out just above her cheeks.

Then her eyes flutter open and in them I see something that I don’t know
how
I could have missed before.
Knowledge
. Not the kind found in books, but the kind learned by living a hard life. Annabelle’s lived and seen things that most other people our age couldn’t even imagine outside of movies. 

She smiles tentatively at me and I see not Annabelle, but Anna, the girl I fell in love with. It seems like a lifetime ago, but was in reality only eight months ago. I can easily admit to myself that I still love that girl, Anna. But what about Annabelle? Do I love
her
? Do I even really know her? I watched Annabelle shoot my father then so easily slip out of my life. Leaving me to deal with the pain and shock all alone. 

Am I willing to deal with Annabelle in order to be near Anna? Did Anna really exist or was it all an act? The uncertainty is driving me crazy. Most importantly, should Anna die for the sins of Annabelle? Do I have the right to decide that?

“Why are you looking at me like that, Gabriel?” she asks as she pulls herself off my chest and into a sitting position, with one knee drawn up and her arms wrapped around it. 

“Just trying to figure out what’s real and what isn’t,” I say cautiously. 

Her eyes are downcast as she answers, “You basically know all of it now.”

“Tell me more,” I insist. 

Her big golden brown eyes dart up to mine. “What do you want to know?”
      My next words come out more forcefully than I’d intended, “Who the hell is the fake Russian?”

She rolls her eyes. “Him again? Forget about him, Gabriel. Trust me when I say that you have
absolutely
nothing to worry about when it comes to him. Unless you try to hurt me physically. But then again, if you hurt me emotionally, he may have the right to be upset too.”

“Why would he have a right to anything? Did you guys ever date?”

She makes a gagging sound, “Hell no. He’s gross.” I’d have to agree.

Giving her a skeptical look, I prop myself up on one elbow. “I’m the farthest thing from gay that a guy can be, but even I have to admit that most girls would find him mildly attractive.” Understatement, the asshole looks like he belongs on the cover of GQ.

The gagging sound comes again from Anna. “Believe me, I know. I’ve been unfortunate enough to witness it. And while in
no way
do I understand it, in no way do I agree with them either.”

“So you guys are just friends. But why is he so protective of you?”

“‘Cause he’s annoying and I’ve known him for a long time,” she mumbles, looking down at the tan bedspread. 

“What’s his name?” I at least want to know that much. 

She purses her lips, making me want to nibble on them. “What did he tell you?”

I laugh at the memory. “He told me to call him
Cool
.”

“Dweeb.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Sorry Gabriel, I can’t tell you his real name.”

“How about I call him Dexter? He seems to be enough of a sociopath for that name,” I say resentfully. I don’t like the fact that Anna has another male in her life that she’s close to, whether they’re just friends or not. 

Her face is all scrunched up in confusion. “Dexter? What do you mean?”

I forgot that she knows almost nothing about pop culture outside of music. I’m not in the mood to explain to her right now about the television show
Dexter
where a serial killer kills other killers. “Never mind,” I change the subject, “So, who are we on our way to kill this time?”

She scoots off the bed and I take the opportunity to check out her ass. “Are we fighting again, Gabriel?”

Sitting up, I rest my arms on my knees. “No, I meant it about the truce.”

Her frown is doubtful. “What’s the point, Gabriel? It’s a waste of time. You hate me, why pretend for a few hours that things are different?”

“You don’t know how much I wish things were different, Annabelle.” I grab her by the waist and pull her back onto the bed next to me. “How did this happen to you? How did you become a killer?”