Young Love Murder (26 page)

I already know what the package is, so I snatch the manila envelope out of Jackson’s hand as soon as the gold elevator doors close. He frowns in disapproval. “Annabelle, you shouldn’t get your hopes up.” 

“Shut up,” I say dismissively. Giving his reflection in the mirror a dirty look, I rip it open, too anxious to wait until we get into our hotel suite. On top of a stack of papers are pictures of Gabriel. It reminds me of when I first got the assignment to kill his father and saw his picture for the first time. This time, though, the effect is a hundred times more intense. Because this time, I’m in withdrawal for him, needing my fix. Like a drug, the sight of him is racing through my blood.

He looks different. The hardness in the lines of his face disturbs me. As though in a constant state of tension. The coldness in his piercing green eyes makes me want to cry. He’s dressed differently too. More mature, like a young exec on Wall Street, not a senior about to graduate high school. From the background, I can tell the picture was taken here in Paris. Obviously recently since he’s been here for only the past week. There’s a man in the picture standing near him. The older man is in his forties with sandy brown hair and a pleasant face, cigarette pressed between his lips. His suit looks less expensive than Gabriel’s, more practical. He must be the private detective, Steven Russo.

I look through the other pictures, mostly of Gabriel in different touristy parts of Paris. A picture of him slouched in a wrought iron chair at an outside cafe makes me smile.
Way to wrinkle your fancy suit, Gabriel.
Some are with Steven Russo, some without. One of the pictures is of Gabriel and Steven Russo, taken on the steps of my old friend and sexual mentor, Marie Perrot’s home.

By the time we enter our large hotel suite, I’m rifling through the paperwork. The stuff Simon sent gives us details on the hotel they’re staying at and all of the places they’ve been spotted at in the past couple of days. I roll my suitcase into one of the bedrooms and return to the living room. Sitting down on a jacquard Victorian loveseat, I curl up to read the remainder of the information. Unbuttoning the top buttons of his wine-colored dress shirt, Jackson grabs the TV remote and opens up the armoire to flip through the channels, stopping on a McDonalds’s commercial.

Ignoring my brother’s sounds of amusement from watching the commercial, I continue reading. The paperwork also gives background information on this Steven Russo person. He’s a well-established and sought-after private investigator in Florida. With experience on cases that have taken him worldwide, a majority of them have been based in Florida and the nearby states. He’s a former Navy Seal and was in the FBI for a number of years before retiring. He also belongs to a network of higher-caliber private investigators in the United States who share information and resources. 

Looks like Gabriel found the right man to hire. Not that Steven Russo stands a chance of finding me if I don’t want to be found. I’m not worried about Marie giving them information about me. She can be as secretive as a spy. A former lover of Simon’s, I know she’s as loyal to me as she is to him. I wouldn’t call her ‘friend’ otherwise.

The first order of business is to do what Simon asked of me and visit with Marie, no hardship there. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen Marie and, while I can’t wait to talk to her, it won’t be a purely social call. Being a Madam gave her an insight into people, particularly men, and I want to know how she interpreted Gabriel’s visit.

Looking down at my jeans and sweater, I figure I need to change before going to see her. Normally, I dress down when I’m not on an assignment, but I have a lot of respect for Marie and she believes that a female should dress to the hilt whenever possible. She’s all about the feminine image. Plus, I don’t want to hear her bitch about it.

Putting on a short silky red dress with black heels, I smooth out my hair and apply full make-up, including red lipstick. Since it’s a chilly spring day out, I throw on over the dress a fitted dressy black leather jacket that reaches just below my ribs. Marie will approve of the siren look. Plus, it’s my birthday. I’m in the mood to look good. My hair is black at present and I apply a little product and a brush to smooth it out, giving it a glossy shine.

Jackson insists on coming with me to see Marie. I'm sure he plans to keep an eye on me and prevent me from sneaking out to find Gabriel. Whatever! I do what I want. It’s not like I haven’t given him the slip numerous times in the past. What makes him think he could really stop me if that’s what I wanted? Of course, when the tables are turned and he’s ditching me that can be pretty damn annoying. 

Do I want to seek out Gabriel? More than anything! I’m dying to see him in the flesh, pictures just aren’t enough. On the plane ride to Paris, I was practically jumping out of my seat. I’m surprised the energy I was giving off didn’t cause turbulence. Will Simon and Jackson be pissed at me? Hell yeah, but I don’t care. 

The thought that Gabriel is scouring the globe for me has me dying to know why. On the taxi ride over to Marie’s home, I turn to Jackson, “Why do you think he’s looking for me?”

Jackson shrugs. “I don’t know. There are many possibilities. Maybe you left a shirt in his car and he wants to return it to you.”
Jackass!

I hit him on the shoulder. “Be serious, Jackson! What do you
really
think?”

He looks at me with a serious expression, arching an eyebrow. “Annie, try to keep in mind that you killed his father.”
      “Believe me when I say that I haven’t forgotten anything. He’s constantly on my mind.” Something I probably shouldn’t admit to, but this is one subject I know my brother won’t tease me about. He feels too damn sorry for me.

Jackson’s expression turns sympathetic. “What if he wants to hurt you?”

My head shakes in denial. “He’s not like that Jacks. He’s too good of a person for that. He loves me.”

“
Loved
you,” Jackson corrects me. I shoot him a dirty look at the reminder. “Remember what he said the last time you saw him.”

Choosing to ignore Jackson, I stare sullenly out the car window. I’ve always loved Paris and the familiar timeworn sights cheer me up a bit. Our father was French and our mother was American. Paris is where they met. I feel closer to them whenever I’m here, like I’m in their company when I’m in this city. 

As soon as the taxi parks in front of Marie’s home, I jump out, leaving Jackson to pay. Running up the steps, I’m anxious to see her. Besides Adala, my former nanny, Marie’s the closest thing to a mother figure I’ve had. Of course, most mothers don’t tutor their daughters in all the ways to pleasure a man or how to use your femininity to reel in the male gender. But perhaps they should. From the teen girl madness I witnessed in Miami, it could be lifesaving, because that affliction is contagious. They could teach a class,
How Not To Act a Fool For a Man 101
.

Glancing up at the gray clouds as I wait for the door to be answered, it looks like it may rain. Her house is in a posh area of Paris. Pimping paid off well for Marie. She’s old school, so a butler opens the door. Ralph recognizes me even though it’s been months and my hair is a new color. He knows I speak French, but he addresses me in accented English, “Miss Annabelle, Marie has been expecting you. Please wait in the front salon and she will be down in a moment.”

“Jackson’s here too,” I tell him as I step into the elegant foyer, hearing my brother pound up the steps behind me. Ralph’s worked for Marie for about as long as I’ve graced the earth with my presence and he’s her most trusted confidant. Now in his early fifties, with salt and pepper hair and a craggy face, he’s conservative as can be. But I’ve always known that, in a time of need, he could get down and dirty. The guy’s a closet bruiser. I mean, someone had to keep all of Marie’s admirers on the doorstep. He’s a stocky man and still fit, despite being middle-aged. He’s served as both butler and bodyguard to Marie since her early days as a procurer of women. On more than one occasion, I’ve thought it’d be fun to spar with him. Not in this dress, though, it was kind of pricey.

Marie’s now retired from the Madame business, but at one time, she had over thirty girls working for her. We’re not talking your common French streetwalkers either. Marie’s girls were in high demand and highly paid. From what Simon says, she was good to them as long as they stayed in line. An odd relationship, but it worked. 

I don’t know how serious she and Simon were back in the day. She had many lovers in her younger years, probably still does. Despite being in her forties, she’s still beautiful and can pass for being a decade younger. Although they no longer see each other as lovers that I know of, Marie and Simon are close friends. 

Before leaving the foyer, Marie appears at the top of the stairs. Waiting at the bottom of them, I get the expected hug when she reaches me. “My sweet Annabelle, you have come to see me so quickly. I did not expect you for a couple more days.”

“I’d just finished a job when I got word,” I explain.

The door shuts behind Jackson and Marie looks in his direction. “Jackson, you have also come to see me, huh?”

“Yes, Marie,” Jackson says shyly. I think he’s always had a bit of a crush on her. Don’t know the extent of his “lessons” with her, but I know they were more extensive than mine, with her bringing in one of her girls to assist. He’s my brother, so no way in hell will I ever be asking him the specifics. Disgusting!

Marie leads us to her formal sitting room off to the left of the foyer. The room looks straight out of the 18
^th
century. The walls have velvet wallpaper with an antique fleur-de-lis pattern. The furniture is dainty, but wide, with carved wood and silk upholstery. A large gilded mirror centers over the marble fireplace and gold sconces adorn the walls with ivory candles. Ivory, crème, rose and gold come together to make you think of soft skin and beautiful women. It’s exactly the sitting room you’d expect of a Madame who used to deal in those things.

As soon as we’re seated, Marie goes right into it, “A young man and a private detective came to see me a few days ago.” Marie is direct as always. It’s the male gender that she likes to play games with.

“Gabriel.” Confirming, my heart skips a beat.

She studies my face carefully as she continues, “Yes, I believe it was you that they were looking for, Annabelle. The sketch was alarmingly accurate.”
      I wave off her concern. “It was definitely me.”

She pats her platinum blonde hair with her right palm. “Of course, I told them nothing.”
     “I trust you, Marie,” I assure her with a soft smile. 

“Who is this young man, Annabelle? He seemed very determined to find you.”

My heart flutters from her words and I try to keep my face blank because Marie is really good at reading people. It was a valuable resource in her line of work. “He’s the son of a target from last fall.”

Her face turns serious. “Oh, I see.” Then she turns her attention to Jackson, who’s been standing just inside the doorway, listening. “Jackson dear, could you please give us a moment? I wish to speak with your sister privately.”

He looks annoyed, but leaves the room, mumbling about raiding her kitchen. Once the door closes, Marie leans forward, reaching out with her perfectly manicured hands, wrapping them around mine. “Tell me everything, Annabelle.”

I sigh, knowing it’s a lost cause. “I received the assignment last October from Simon. At first, it was just like any other assignment. Get in, kill the bad man and get out. But Marie, I didn’t expect to fall in love.” My eyes start to water and she reaches over to an end table to grab a tissue. 

“First love is hard,” Marie croons sympathetically, patting my hand.

“It was a more than hard, Marie. It was a freaking disaster.” Resolutely, I pull myself together, using the tools that Simon taught us to control our emotions. Crying should be done in private. Once I’m satisfied, I go on, “He fell in love with me too, Marie. He was so wonderful in every way. I was going to give it all up for him, after I killed his father, of course.”

She nods in understanding even though she’s never been in that exact situation. Marie has lived a full life, though, and has had enough dramatic situations of her own. “So anyways, I killed his father, but not before he walked into the room and saw it all happen. He made it clear that he hates me and doesn’t love me anymore so I did what I had to do. I left, tried to forget him.” I shrug one shoulder helplessly.

“And now he is searching for you,” Marie adds, bringing us to present day.