Young Love Murder Part 21

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, "b.i.t.c.h," 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 circ.u.mstances were different between us. That he wasn't such a stupid boy.

Gabriel G.o.d, 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 a.s.sa.s.sin, 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 h.e.l.lo 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. G.o.d d.a.m.n, the girl has me using metaphors! I'd tie her up just to p.i.s.s her off, but no way in h.e.l.l 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 h.e.l.l did she grab that so fast? Where the h.e.l.l 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 s.e.x 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 d.a.m.n 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 h.e.l.l 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, "h.e.l.l 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 a.s.shole 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 a.s.s. "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?"

She brushes my hands off of her waist, clearly annoyed. "You don't understand. What I do isn't wrong. I was born to be what I am. I don't hurt innocent people. h.e.l.l, I probably save innocent people."

I ignore her attempt to put distance between us and cup her jaw, using my thumb to stroke her cheek. "Help me understand, Anna. I believe that you believe you kill only those who deserve it. With the exception of my father, who was a mistake."

She opens her mouth as if to say something but I cut off her words, not wanting to hear her call my father a drug dealing murderer again. She's wrong. She may not have known the mistake she was making, but a mistake it was.

"I don't want to hear it, Annabelle." It may make me a bad person, a bad son, but I selfishly want to find a way around our dilemma. I want her more than I want revenge.

She closes her mouth, staring at me silently, thoughtfully. "Fine, I won't say it again. I know it hurts you."

With my free hand, I grab one of hers. "Will you answer a few questions truthfully for me?"

"Depends on what they are. I'll answer truthfully, if I can answer them at all," she explains.

"Okay, I can handle that, the truth or no answer at all. First question, have you been with anyone else since you left Miami?"

Her guarded eyes soften and she says softly, "There's been no one but you, Gabriel."

A rush of satisfaction surges through me and I somehow manage not to grin like an idiot. My thoughts turn serious. "Do you love me?"

She smiles shyly, well shyly for Anna. "More than anything."

G.o.d, I want so much to believe her. Past hurts and betrayals rear their ugly heads. "Who hired you to kill my dad?"

"I can't answer that because I don't know," she says somberly.

"But, when you . . . shot him, you honestly believed that he was the bad guy?"

"Yes," she firmly says.

Can I deal with that? Can I ever forgive her for that? Is Annabelle not a monster after all, but instead a misinformed a.s.sa.s.sin? Can I forgive her for the mistake that cost me my father? I don't know. My heart is telling me I can. My head is telling me I can't, that it would be a betrayal to my family. My grief is telling me to seek vengeance.

At the thought of family, another question pops into my head. "Where's your family? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead." Her eyes are guarded, as if she doesn't like the subject. Before I can come up with another question she asks me, "Can I ask you a few questions now?" She squeezes my hand.

"Sure."

"Are you still planning to kill me?" she calmly asks. More calmly than about ninety-nine percent of the world population would.

I look into her face for a few moments, searching it and searching myself. "I don't think I am. No." The last word is less doubtful.

Her smile is big until she starts chewing on her bottom lip and fidgeting nervously. I sense another question coming. She has that rare vulnerable look on her face while speaking in a small voice, "Do you still love me?"

I groan at the messed up misery that's my life. Removing my hand from hers, I place my face in my palms. Running my hands roughly through my hair and looking down at the paisley pattern in the airplane carpet, I answer, "For some odd, totally unexplainable and messed up reason, yes, I do still love you."

Hearing her gasp in happiness, I look up just in time to see her pounce towards me. I find myself on my back, with her straddling me and raining kisses all over my face and neck. What's a guy to do but take advantage? I grab her a.s.s and press her more tightly against me.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," Anna is repeating in between her sweet kisses. Now, if only she'd move those kisses further south . . . .

She pulls her face back to look me in the eyes and I'm startled by the hope I see in there and an openness that I've never before witnessed on her face. "Gabriel?" she whispers.

"Yes?" I whisper back, teasing her.

"Is there a chance for us?"

I reach up to weave my fingers through her blonde hair. Enjoying its texture, for a brief moment the thought flashes through my mind of using it to hurt her. I shake away the violent image, not liking it. Instead, I pull her head down so that our foreheads are touching. "I don't know, Anna. Make me understand you. Show me that you aren't a monster. Show me that I can trust you with my heart again."

"I love you so much, Gabriel. And I swear that I'll do exactly what you ask. Tell me what I need to do."

"Take me on your next a.s.signment. Let me see you in action. Prove to me that you aren't bad."

She sits up and is once again straddling me in just the right position. She exhales loudly. "I don't know who my target is yet. I'll get that information once I'm in Sydney." I can see the indecision on her face and finally she says, "I don't want you to get hurt, Gabriel, but I suppose you can watch me work from a distance."

I grab her by the neck of her purple h.e.l.lo Kitty shirt and pull her down for a kiss. "Not too far of a distance."

She laughs, agreeing, "Okay, not too far."

Kissing her again, more deeply, I move one hand to the more interesting parts of her body.

She practically moans the words, "Gabriel, what are you doing?"

My hand continues its journey. "I'm going to make love to you."

She sighs. "And I'm going to let you."