Young Love Murder Part 19

Yeah, Annabelle going MIA after the death of my father is widely known. Obviously my self-imposed celibacy may also be just as widely known. At least people don't know what a fool she made of me. "Get lost, Carmen."

Abruptly, her demeanor changes and she puts on a sympathetic face, which I don't buy for an instant. "Oh, do you have a broken heart?"

I look at her suspiciously. "Not likely."

My scowl doesn't deter her from the topic and she takes a step closer, pressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against my chest. "I could make you forget about her, Gabriel."

I think about the dude who was just doing her and decide that I definitely don't want to go there. But maybe she could help me forget about Annabelle. The fling that Carmen and I had last summer was fun, until she started whining the words commitment and exclusive, causing me to end it.

Determined to stop being a fool for a girl who doesn't give a s.h.i.t about me, I decide to take Carmen up on her offer. Leaning back against the side of the house, I spread out my arms. "Well then?"

She presses against me again and tries to kiss my lips. I turn my head to the side to avoid her lips and say, "No kissing."

She pouts, using that whining tone I remember so well, "Well, what can I kiss?"

"Use your imagination."

She gets a wicked smile and starts to unb.u.t.ton my navy shirt, kissing her way down. I see where this is going. Through my drunken mind, a voice is screaming for me to stop. It's screaming that I don't really want Carmen. That it isn't going to help me forget Anna. I recognize that voice and tell my heart to shut the h.e.l.l up.

Finishing with my shirt, she unzips my black dress pants and starts to stick her hand past the elastic waist band of my boxer briefs. Suddenly, her whole body goes limp and collapses against mine. What the h.e.l.l? I barely manage to catch her before looking up into the enraged brown eyes of the girl standing behind her. Even with lighter hair, it's easy to recognize Anna. Somehow, I think it always will be.

In shock, I begin, "It wasn't-" Then I stop myself, squashing down the irrational guilt that I'm feeling at Anna catching me with another girl. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing here, Annabelle?"

"What the f.u.c.k are you doing, f.u.c.king someone else?" she yells, slapping me on the shoulder.

"I wasn't going to screw her," I say calmly, surprisingly happy with the drama unfolding. She's actually jealous. She may not love me, but she can feel some emotions, jealousy being the current one. Daringly, I add, "I was just gonna let her suck me off."

She lets out an enraged huff and glares down at the girl that I still have propped up by her armpits. "I should kill her."

"That is your way," I say, as I gently lay Carmen down on the gra.s.s. Girl's gonna wake up with one h.e.l.l of a headache, especially if she's been drinking. "What did you do to her?"

"Pressure point," she says distractedly, then slashes her hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. "She'll be fine."

"I know all about that," I mutter bitterly.

She looks up at me with a guilty expression, which I don't buy. Then her familiar blank mask returns as she starts to back away. "I shouldn't have come here. It was a mistake. I just thought . . . ." She looks away in thought before gazing back to me. "Goodbye, Gabriel."

I can hear the finality in her voice. She means it. She turns around and starts to walk away. Panic consumes me as I follow her. It seems like I'm always chasing her, across distances short and long. I catch up with her in the near darkness of the front yard.

Grabbing her from behind, I wrap my arms around her, clasping tightly. Leaning my face into now blonde hair, I can smell fruity shampoo. Coconut? Keeping Anna in my grip with one arm around her front and that hand clasped onto her bicep, I run the opposite hand across ribs and down a jean-clad hip. The dark tank top and jean skirt she's wearing aren't much of a barrier against what I have in mind. I want to see her in the light so I pull her into the driveway, under the lights attached to the right of the garage doors.

Figuring that tomorrow I'll get to blame my actions on being drunk, I continue to hold her. She's stiff in my arms when I turn her around. Cupping a tensed chin with one hand, I lift her face up to the light. Tears are streaking her soft skin. Now I stiffen, asking, "What game are you playing, Annabelle?"

She clears her throat and whispers, "I'm not playing any game, Gabriel."

"Why the tears?" I ask skeptically.

She lets out a derisive noise. "Why do you think, Gabriel? How would you feel if you caught me with another guy?"

Laughing humorlessly, I shake her body gently. "Like I'm going to believe there haven't been other guys in the last six months." Pretending indifference doesn't stop me from holding my breath while waiting for her answer. The thought of another guy touching her kills me.

She places her palms on my chest two seconds before pushing me away. I stumble back against the metal garage door with a bang, hearing her say, "Of course there haven't been other guys. There's only you, jacka.s.s. Why the h.e.l.l would I be here otherwise?" Okay, the thrill I get from that information is inappropriate since I shouldn't care. But d.a.m.n, I do care. Her jealousy and hurt are making me feel things I shouldn't be feeling in regards to her. Love. Hope. Tenderness. Guilt.

Obviously more p.i.s.sed than hurt again, she stalks down the long driveway, most likely to where she's parked this battle's getaway vehicle. I have no idea what she'd even be driving. The police informed me that the yellow Lamborghinis her and the fake Russian had were both rentals.

Once again, and probably not for the last time, I chase after her, catching up on the sidewalk in front of the house next door. I start speed-walking alongside her, intent on not to let her escape again. "Where are you going?"

"Elsewhere," she responds in an unfriendly tone.

Undaunted, I refuse to give up. "Can I give you a ride there?" What the h.e.l.l is wrong with me? I want to kill her, not keep her close.

"I have a ride." She points to the taxi parked near us and I notice the driver waiting patiently in the dark interior. His scruffy face is glowing faintly from the light being cast off the cell phone he's looking down at.

Grabbing her hand in both of mine, I halt her. "We need to talk."

She stops and tilts her face up to mine. "There's nothing left to talk about, Gabriel. I just want to be alone right now." Her voice starts to tremble at the end and I resist the urge to pull her into my arms. But I want her to hurt . . . don't I?

I repeat more firmly, "We need to talk."

For almost a full minute, she's silent, then she sighs wearily. "Alright, just let me pay the taxi driver." Walking over to where the driver has the pa.s.senger window rolled down, she reaches into her bag and leans through the window to hand him some money. Wonder what else she has in there. Turning to face me, she just stares, wiping her cheeks simultaneously with both hands.

Even though I know I can't trust her or this show of emotion, I still feel awkward about what she witnessed between me and Carmen. But I refuse to feel guilty. Stepping forward, I place my hand on her lower back and guide her in the direction of my car parked down the street. Max will just have to find a ride home. It shouldn't be a problem.

Neither one of us speaks during the short walk. Once there, I open the driver's side for her, handing over the keys. Though our encounter was sobering, the alcohol is still rampant in my bloodstream, so it's best that she take the wheel. Going around to the pa.s.senger side, I slide into the leather seat. As she silently drives away, I wonder where we'll go. We definitely won't go to my house, where she killed my father. It seems inappropriate. For some reason, I don't want our encounter solely focused on the past. My hands clench thinking about the f.u.c.ked up situation we're in.

"Where are we going?" she asks, turning to look at me with a cold mask in place.

Trying to read her thoughts, I ask, "What do you suggest?"

She returns her attention back to the road. "This is your city." Memories of her saying similar words last October flash through my mind. How innocent things were back then, at least from my perspective.

I make a decision, knowing exactly where to take her. "The beach house."

She winces just enough for me to notice. "Okay."

It's a stupid idea, the place where we first made love, but I can't help myself. It reminds me of happier times, a time when I had two parents and the most beautiful girlfriend in the world.

Thirty minutes later, I'm locking the front door of the beach house behind us after we enter. Facing away from me, Annabelle asks, "Is this the part where you kill me? Because I gotta say, I'm not really in the mood to die. I'm more in a killing mood."

"Not yet," I answer concisely.

She whirls around and I can see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes again. "What do you want from me, Gabriel?"

I walk towards her, grabbing her by the arms. What do I want? Conflicting needs fight for dominance inside me. Deciding on one, I lean down and whisper, "I want to hurt you."

Chapter 24.

Annabelle Even though Gabriel's words do hurt me, I put on a brave face, forcing my lips to form a smarta.s.s smirk. "Do you really want to hurt me?"

The arms he now has wrapped around me squeeze as he nods his head. "Yes."

Despite my efforts, my brave face falls and my voice cracks, "I love you, Gabriel. And you already hurt me tonight."

He squeezes harder, picks me up off the floor and flings me onto the couch. Having no warning that I was about to be tossed, I don't land gracefully, but instead with an oomph!

Okay, round one goes to Gabriel.

Before I've regained my composure and an erect position, he's hovering over me. I glance into his eyes to see such a mixture of emotions. Yes, hate. Yes, anger. But something else is still there too. I'm convinced it's love.

If only I could have gotten it back before it was too late, before he hurt me too badly.

It's obvious he's trembling with indecision. He wants to hurt me and he wants to love me. I may not be all that experienced with love, but I know all about hate and anger. And I know Gabriel.

Reaching a hand up slowly to cup his face, he flinches and I flinch in response to his loathing. He really thinks that I'm a monster. "You still love me don't you, Gabriel?" As soon as the words are out of my mouth, he rears back as if I slapped him. His eyes go wide before narrowing in anger.

Then he slaps me. Hard, dammit! I'm warring with emotions myself. On one hand, I'm royally p.i.s.sed that he just hit me. On the other, I kind of deserve it. Although his dad deserved to die, Gabriel never deserved to be hurt so badly by me in the process.

I'm cupping my own face now where I know there must be a large red mark, as I stare down at the floor. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

"I'm not going to be sorry that I hit you," he says harshly. It sounds like he's trying to convince himself more than me.

I finally look up into his tormented face. "You know what, Gabriel? Just forget about it." I motion from him to me with the flick of my hand. "This, whatever it is between us, is over anyways."

Starting to stand up, he tries to block me with an arm. I grab it and have him on the floor in two seconds. He lands on his back with a thud and his breath whooshes out of his body. Before he can sit up I'm on top of him, straddling his waist and arms, pinning him beneath my thighs.

Putting my hands on either side of his gorgeous face, I lean down so he won't mistake my next words. I notice that he looks both startled and aroused. Very softly I tell him, "Gabriel, I really do love you. I think a part of you still loves me too. The stubborn teenage girl in me had hope for us. The woman in me knows that it's over."

His face contorting into sadness, he starts to speak, "Ann-"

I place a palm over his mouth. "Shh Gabriel, let me finish." Once he nods, I continue, "Like I was saying, I love you. I had hoped that we'd be able to get past . . . the past. But, I'm not a normal teenage girl. I'm not even a normal woman. One thing that I know we can't get past, that I can't get past . . . ."

I hold off for dramatic effect. True, what I'm saying it completely real. My feelings are no game. However, I'm an a.s.sa.s.sin, an actress of the real world. I want Gabriel to remember this moment for the rest of his life. I want the end of us to make a lasting impression on him. I know it's going to imprint itself on me. I'll never forget Gabriel and I'll never forget my love for him.

He's trying to say something, but it's m.u.f.fled by my hand on his mouth. I remove it and he looks confused, unsure. "What, Anna? What can't you get past?"

My tears are real too. As one drops onto his cheek, I say with all the sorrow of a young girl pained by a broken heart, "You f.u.c.king other girls."

With that, I lift myself off of him and stride towards the back door of the beach house. I can hear him scrambling to get up behind me. I fling open the front door, leaving it wide open for his pursuit, not wanting to take the time to close it. The night welcomes me and I run into it.

Down the beach, over the sand, I hear the waves and smell the sea. I can feel sand getting into my sandals, but I don't care. He's probably not faring any better in dress shoes. "Anna, wait!" I notice that he's calling me Anna again, panic in his tone. If he's suddenly experiencing tender feelings for me, it's too late now. I meant what I said.

Gabriel "Anna, stop!" I shout after her retreating figure. d.a.m.n the girl can run fast, doesn't help that I drank so much tonight. Stopping long enough to toe my dress shoes off, I resume my pursuit. She may be a trained a.s.sa.s.sin, but she's still a girl. Two minutes later, I've caught up with her. Tackling her, I twist our bodies so I take the brunt of the fall. Landing with an oomph, my breath is knocked out of me.

She immediately starts struggling, but I have my arms secured around her waist and I'm not letting go. That's when the screaming begins, "Gabriel, you piece of s.h.i.t, let go of me! Why don't you go back to your wh.o.r.e?" Ah, she's angry again.

Somehow, despite the circ.u.mstances and my aching back, I find this amusing. It's a good thing she can't see my face clearly in the dark. The light from a nearby beach house and the moon reflecting off the water give just enough light so that we can make out each other's shapes and shadowed features. Not paying attention, she catches me off guard with a backwards head-b.u.t.t. "Ow! Dammit, Anna!"

She continues struggling, so I flip her over onto her stomach, with her knees in the sand. She tries to throw her head back into my face again, but I'm not stupid enough to make that mistake again and she hits only air. Anna huffs in annoyance, "Are you going to restrain me to death, Gabriel? Do you plan on drowning me in the ocean?" Her sarcasm is cute. d.a.m.n, I feel like s.h.i.t for hitting her, but I was afraid of what else I might do. I'm so angry with her for hurting me.

"If I let you go, will you behave?" I ask nicely.

She answers with her own false nicety, "Why, of course."

Slowly, I let her up and she does this weird forward somersault thingy and lands in a crouch facing me, about five feet away. I shake my head in wonder. I'll never get used to her being able to do these things. And I thought I was a bada.s.s while taking martial arts growing up and again for the past six months. Perhaps I should have known that she was that skilled since her body is so toned, but I just brushed it off by thinking that she must work out a lot. Sitting in the sand, I bring my knees up to rest my hands on, brushing the sand off my palms.

She gives me a dirty look that I can barely make out in the dark. But if I hadn't, her tone would have clued me in, "I don't like being tackled, Gabriel."

The comment makes me curious and instinctively protective. "That's happened before?"

She shrugs nonchalantly, laughing humorlessly. "That and much more. There were a lot of learning experiences in the beginning of my career."

My emotions have an odd response to that. At the same time that I think it's no less than what she deserves, I feel angry that anyone would ever try to harm her. G.o.d, my life is so messed up. A random thought flits through my mind. "How many people have you killed in the past six months?" Squinting into the darkness, I watch her face.

She gives me a weird look, her face scrunching up as if uncomfortable. "Do you really want to know?"

I swallow hard, nodding. "Yes."

She brings both her hands up to chest level. Staring me in the eyes, she sticks out the thumb on her right hand. "Brazil," she hesitates for just a moment before continuing, "China, Mexico, South Africa, Ireland, India, j.a.pan, Canada, Peru."

Looking from her eyes, down to the nine fingers she's holding out between us, I shout in astonishment, "Nine!" Then I repeat questioningly, looking back up at her, "Nine?"

She shrugs again, not meeting my eyes. "It's what I do."

"That's sick!"

She has a hurt, but p.i.s.sed look on her face. "It's what I f.u.c.king do, Gabriel!" Obviously irritated, she stands up, brushes off her legs and clothes, ridding them of a majority of the clinging sand. With one last look at me, she spins around and takes off again. This time she walks away.

For a long moment, I sit there, a warm breeze I didn't notice before whipping against my face. What the h.e.l.l am I going to do about her? Finally, I scramble to stand up quickly, following just a couple yards behind her on my sock-covered feet. "So that's it? You're just going to walk away?" I close the distance so that she's only inches in front of me.

Without even looking back at me, she mutters loudly, "You've given me no other choice."

I grab onto her shoulder, desperate to hold onto her any way I can. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

She whips around with a smirk on her face. "I don't want to play this game anymore."

My jaw drops. "Game? So this is only a game to you?" She looks amused, but I have to wonder what's an act and what isn't. Is her supposed 'love' an act? Is the amus.e.m.e.nt that she's portraying an act? I have to think so. It's what's driving my revenge. My father deserves to be avenged.

Her face is now devoid of emotion. It's so frustrating! "The only game is you pretending that you're going to kill me, Gabriel."

"I am going to kill you," I say with a waning certainty.

She laughs mockingly. "Sure you are." She starts walking away from me again. I, once again, am following her.