Young Love Murder (21 page)

Last night we left the Lamborghinis in the parking lot of the hotel for the luxury car rental service to pick up. Jackson made a joke that we never got a chance to race them. I didn’t laugh. Taking the city bus from the hotel, we picked up a nondescript family sedan at a car rental place out in the suburbs of Miami. 

With my head leaning against the hard passenger window, my emotions seem to be racing as quickly as the passing scenery. Jackson has tried to talk me into sleeping but I can’t. I feel physically sick and can’t stop crying. Jackson isn’t used to dealing with a crying sister, since we were trained to control our emotions, not wallow in them. I feel totally out of control at the moment. My poor brother is trying his best to comfort me. He sucks at it.

“Do you want me to stop the car in some small town so we can rumble with the locals?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “I’ll take that as a ‘No’.”

“What city are we switching cars in?” I ask in a raspy voice.
You sound pathetic, Annabelle.

“We just entered South Carolina. We’ll switch cars in Columbia,” Jackson answers quietly.

Arriving in Columbia, we abandon the rental car and take a public bus to the outskirts of the city. From there, we walk the residential neighborhoods for a car to steal. Jackson hotwires a minivan with a car seat in it. Some white stickers on the back window represent the family we’re stealing from. If this is the worst thing that ever happens to them, they should consider themselves lucky. We drive the minivan into North Carolina, abandoning it in downtown Raleigh and wiping it clean of any fingerprints. From there we take a taxi to the airport. 

Gabriel is the only witness to the crime and I’m not sure what he’ll say to the cops. The erratic travel measures that Jackson and I have taken should lose any trail we may have. Jackson and I each use a new set of false identification to book a flight from Raleigh to London. The flight is going to be seven and a half hours long so, unfortunately, I’ll have nothing to do but think about Gabriel. Either that or make small talk with whatever normal passenger is seated next to me. I can’t relate to normal, especially right now. 

Jeez, my entire life I’ve never felt sorry for myself. Not about being an orphan. Not about my unusual childhood. But right now, I pity myself for the things I’ve never had and the things that I’ll never have in the future. Love, a real family, Gabriel. Thinking his name squeezes at my heart, making it hard to breath, like a vise on my lungs.

Thankfully the flight is almost full and Jackson and I won’t be sitting together. I don’t think I could take anymore of him trying to cheer me up. It’s useless. Nothing will ever make me happy again. It’s not that I regret killing Xavier Sanchez. That was business. What I regret is losing Gabriel, my first and only love. That was all too personal.

The things he said to me . . .
damn
.

Maybe I deserved his harsh words, maybe I didn’t. It doesn’t matter either way. What matters is the way he feels. He hates me and doesn’t love me anymore. I killed his love when I killed his father. Losing that love hurts worse than any bullet ever could, more than the pain any torture device could extract. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t molded for it and love just isn’t an option for me. Simon was right. Love is a weakness that those in our professions cannot afford. I was an idiot to think differently. You’d think my parents’ tragedy would be lesson enough.

But it was so sweet while it lasted and I’ll always cherish what we shared. I will always love Gabriel.
Always
. The little time we had together will just have to be enough to last me forever. It’s funny that loving him will be both my greatest joy and greatest mistake in life. I can’t regret it, though. I now know how beautiful love can be, but I won’t forget its devastation either. I’ll carry the memories with me into the future. His perspective of the memories may differ from mine, but I hope in his unguarded moments, he can remember how beautiful we were together.

I break down on the plane about an hour after takeoff, the distance between us sinking in, and have to go to the restroom for privacy. As I grip the tiny bathroom sink, I try to push back the despair. I feel so nauseous at the thought of never seeing Gabriel again. Feeling dizzy, I brace one hand against the wall and lean over the metal toilet to empty the meager contents of my stomach. This is one instance where throwing up doesn’t make me feel better. It isn’t a sickness of the body, but a sickness of the heart and soul. Maybe I’m addicted to Gabriel’s love, and without it, I’m like an addict without her fix experiencing severe withdrawals.
You’re pathetic, Annabelle. You don’t deserve his love.

Since that night, I’ve thought over and over again about what I should have done differently. There are so many things. Not finishing the job wasn’t an option, though. Doing a better job at covering my actions was definitely an option. Hindsight is a bitch. I finally paid for my overconfidence in my abilities, the invincible feeling of youth. Why did it have to happen on
this
job?

It’s over. I messed up and it’s all over. I should have used something to put him to sleep. Then he wouldn’t have walked into the study in the middle of my kill. Holy shit, that has to be traumatizing to the average person. It’s like I’ve tainted him by being the one to expose him to the dark realities of life. Better me than his father, though.

When it comes down to it, could I have really given up being an assassin to be with Gabriel? Yes, I suppose I could have and possibly been happier than I’d ever imagined. Maybe not, maybe the loss of my profession would have gnawed at me until I was forced to pick up a gun again. I’ll never know now since I’ve lost my reason to quit. Besides, this is who I am. This is who Simon has made me, who my parent’s legacy has created. What I was born to be.

Leaving the claustrophobic airplane bathroom, I return to my seat. Passing by Jackson on my way back, he gives me a weird look. I ignore him and sit down between a businessman reading a magazine and a sleeping elderly woman. I pull the tape recorder out of my carryon bag, rolling the small device between my palms. I had wanted proof, maybe only for myself, that I wasn’t a monster for killing my boyfriend’s dad. He may have been a husband and father, but I also killed a monster. I did the world a favor. I did the right thing. I’ll just have to live with the consequences. They’ll have to be worth it. Thinking back, no matter what, I would have killed Xavier Sanchez just to protect Gabriel from being turned into his protégé. Saving Gabriel is worth any pain to me.

When Gabriel confronted me at the hotel after the killing, I thought about bringing out the tape and telling him,
See! He was a bad man!
But I saw in Gabriel’s eyes that it would just hurt him more. He doesn’t want to believe that his father was evil and he doesn’t want to know the truth. Not only had his girlfriend killed his father, but to find out on top of it all, that his father was a murdering drug lord? I’m afraid that may just break him. I love him too much to do that to him. Let him have the good memories he has of his father. He’d hate me either way.

Like he said, his hate has killed all of the love he felt for me. So, he’ll get over me. He’ll eventually come to terms with his father’s death. Never letting him know that the man who raised him, the father he loves, is a cold-blooded murderer, is my gift to him. He doesn’t need to know that two of the people he loved most in this world are both killers, just me. That’s a title I’ll carry alone. 

Gabriel will go on with his normal life and I’ll go back to doing what I do best, killing. This is really for the best. Besides, even if I did play the tape for him he would never look at me the same way. He would never love me again. Not after seeing me shoot his father. Not after finding out that I used him from the beginning to get to Xavier. 

I hate myself for hurting him and I deserve for him to hate me. I wish I could have his forgiveness and understanding. I’d sell my soul to have his love again. 

Does he even understand how much I love him? If I tried to convince him, he’d just laugh in my face. He’d probably slap me in the face. 

Well, no one can stop me from loving him. Not even Gabriel himself. I love you, Gabriel. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

Chapter 16

Gabriel

“Tell us how it happened one more time, Mr. Sanchez. You don’t have to go into as much detail as before, a summary will do.” Detective Valdes glances over at Detective Decker then gives me his serious cop look.

I drop my forehead against the metal table in the interrogation room, showing them how tired I am of this crap. Lightly, of course, I’ve been knocked unconscious enough in the last 24 hours, all courtesy of my girlfriend, uh, ex-girlfriend. I don’t even know what the fuck to call her anymore. Lover?  Deceiver? Assassin? Definitely
Murderer
.

Lifting my head off the table, I give the detectives a tortured look. “Really? Again? How much longer is this going to last? We’ve been going round and round for the past five hours. I need to get home and be with my mother.” Not to mention the gunshot residue test I submitted to before the questioning even began.

“I think my client has answered enough questions, detectives.” My lawyer, Mr. Rogers, announces while tucking his yellow legal pad into a black alligator leather briefcase that matches his shiny shoes. Someone gets paid a ridiculous amount per hour. 

Reluctantly, I hold up my right index finger. “One more time then we’re done?”

The detectives look at each other again but say nothing. More of their telepathic communication bullshit. Detective Decker returns his gaze to me. “One more time.”
      I let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. This is what happened. I was with my girlfriend, Anna Walker, in my room, when we decided to go downstairs for some food.”

“And you two are sexually active?” Decker asks.

“Irrelevant,” I answer with a glare, then continue, “We were passing my dad’s study when we heard a loud
thump
. I thought that maybe my dad had fallen and gotten hurt, so I went inside. Anna followed me into the study where we saw my dad being held at gunpoint by a large man wearing a ski mask and gloves.”

“And you didn’t see the color of his eyes or any other identifying features?” Detective Valdes asks dubiously.

“I already told you I didn’t. It all happened too fast and I was mostly looking at the gun, not the guy holding it.” I stare at both detectives then continue, “Anyways, my father’s bodyguard was already dead on the floor. In front of our eyes, the masked man threw a knife and hit my dad’s wrist. My father had been reaching towards his desk drawer for the gun he keeps in there.”

“We found it,” Detective Valdes informs me.

“Yeah, well, then the man shot my father and I thought for sure we’d be next. The man turned the gun on us. I begged him not to hurt us, especially Anna. You see, she’s a very sensitive girl. I think the shock of seeing something as horrible as murder had her really upset.” I lie through my teeth, not showing outwardly the anger that I’m reining in.

“You love her?” The question comes from Valdes.

“I already told you I do.” The words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. “Even though the gun was on me at that point, I went over to my father’s body to see if he was still breathing. He wasn’t. It also got the gun away from Anna’s direction and solely on me. While I was crouching over my father’s body, I was hit on the back of the head, I’m guessing with the gun. That was the last thing I remember.”

“And that’s when you fell into the crime scene, laying in it while you were unconscious, causing contamination?” Detective Decker asks while perusing his notes as if he has to check on that fact.

“Yes.”

“And that’s why the clothing covered in blood was found in your bathroom and blood was found in your sink?” The question comes from Decker.

“Yes, when I woke up I was lying next to my father’s body in a pool of his blood. Understandably, I was anxious to clean it off me.”

“And Anna Walker was gone?” Valdes asks for the one-hundredth time.

I show my anger at this point, since it fits the bogus story I’m giving the cops. “Yes, like I already told you, Anna was gone. I can only assume the killer took her with him.” It’s true, in a way. The killer did take
my
Anna away. It’s hard for me to come to terms with the fact that the girl I love doesn’t exist.