Young Love Murder (63 page)

The men give me a weird look and the one holding my arm says something to me. He’s probably asking if I speak the language.
Note to self: Learn Greek.
He rolls his eyes at the blank look on my face and starts hustling me down the hallway again. Abruptly stopping, he pushes me through a dark doorway then flips a switch. Praise the lord, it’s a bathroom. Spinning on my heel, I hold my tied wrists in his face, lifting my eyebrows in an ‘I’m waiting’ manner. 

He shakes his head and pushes me further into the bright room to slam the door shut. First things first, I take care of business. With my freaking wrists tied together. What an experience. I clumsily wash my hands and leave the water running while I look in the cabinet. It’s empty of anything useful, dammit. 

Leaning against the white porcelain sink, I take the time to think about my situation. Most likely, I was taken as bait for Gabriel. It’s a good thing I was caught instead of Gabriel, because if they’d gotten him he’d be dead already. Of course, that means they plan to lure him here. But do they realize that’ll bring Jackson also?  Do they know who we are? Not me, obviously, otherwise they’d be taking more precautions. My guess is they’re Greeks who heard about the contract and found out that we were in Athens. How the hell did they find us? 

Time’s up. The door starts opening and my patience has run out. I reach up to grab the back of the guy’s head and ram my knee into his face. He drops to the floor, but won’t be out for long. Before anyone else can rush in at me, I put my back against the wall adjacent to the doorway. After ten seconds there’s no shout of alarm, so I lean down and feel around the waistband of the guy’s jeans until I find a gun at his hip. Checking for bullets, I see that I’ve got four shots. As much as I want to shoot this guy in the back of the head, there’s no silencer.

“I’ll be back for you,” I promise the unconscious man, kicking him in the head for pissing me off. Too bad I’m wearing flip flops. Dragging his body into the bathroom, I shut the door quietly behind me.

Easing down the empty hallway, I listen for any sounds coming from the rooms I pass. Deciding that I may as well take care of the threat while I’m here, with my back against the wall, I make my way further into the house. Choosing the direction I can hear male voices coming from, I inch along the wall. Running into a kitchen first would be nice, to find a knife for the rope around my wrists. I’m about to turn a corner when I feel a sting on my left shoulder. Whipping my head to the left, I see the young guy grinning at me from about ten feet away and glance down at the dart sticking out of me. Jeez, I really hate that creep. He better not . . . .

Gabriel

As requested by Annabelle’s kidnappers, at sunset I’m walking alone up to the front door of the large white house. Jackson’s hiding behind a copse of bushes about thirty feet away and Brent is somewhere out back. When Jackson pretended to be me over the phone he was told to come alone and unarmed, without the police. Well I’ve got something better than cops, trained assassins. Jackson said the man on the phone spoke broken English, but was clear enough about coming unarmed. So my weapons are hidden. 

Climbing the front steps, the door opens before I can use the metal knocker and a large man is standing there with a gun pointed at me. He opens his mouth to speak, but doesn’t manage to utter one syllable before there’s a bullet-shaped hole in his forehead. Later, I’ll reflect quietly on a bullet traveling so closely to my own head. Jackson’s so lucky I’m in love with his sister. The guy’s body falls onto the planks of the front porch with a
thud
as I hastily get out of the crossfire. Pulling out one of my guns, I take shelter against the stucco wall. Jackson should be joining me momentarily.

Jackson eases out from behind the bushes with the rifle swinging at his hip from a strap around his neck and a pistol pointed in the direction of the front door. He reaches my position and leans against the wall next to me. Shots coming from the back of the house let us know Brent’s status. Jackson is about to push off the wall and storm in when I put my hand on his chest, holding him back. “I go first.”

He gives me a long look before nodding. 

With my gun out, I flip around the corner and into the house, to come almost face to face with a man holding a slumped, sleeping Annabelle in front of him. Using her as a shield, he has a gun to her head. No, she’s not sleeping, but passed out. Well, doesn’t that make me want to kill him slowly? The sound of more gunfire can be heard from the back of the house. Guess Brent’s not having such an easy time of it.

“Throw down your gun,” he orders in heavily accented English. The guy’s huge, dwarfing Annabelle, but not so large that she isn’t an effective shield.

Jackson’s still around the corner, so I know I’m not completely defenseless as I lower my weapon to the tiled floor. Especially since I have another one tucked at my lower back. He looks over his shoulder, as if searching for his backup. With an aggravated noise, he turns back to me. Slowly, he backs against the yellow wall behind him while still pointing the gun at me. He lets Anna drop to the floor like a rag doll. My first instinct is to rush to her, but I know I’ll be dead before I get there. The man gives me a malicious smile that I’ve never before seen on Anna or Jackson’s face and I realize the difference between him and them. He’s enjoying this and relishing the thought of killing me.
Jeez man, I don’t even know you.

“You are worth a lot of money,” he says. 

“Priceless,” I comment wryly.

Confusion flashes in his dark eyes, but when his evil grin returns I know I’m about to die. Glancing down at Annabelle, I feel immense regret for what could have been.
Where the hell is Jackson?

The sound of glass shattering is accompanied by bullets spraying into the small entryway. Shards of glass, from a window to our left, fall to the ground and shatter. It’s over in a matter of seconds. The guy is dead before he lands on the floor. His body is bullet-ridden, bloodstains spreading on his white button-down shirt and gray dress pants. Apparently, he didn’t know Jackson was outside. I can’t believe I owe that jerk now. The fact that I just risked my life to save his sister is irrelevant. She means everything to me and I would have done it regardless.

I fall on my knees by Annabelle, praying that she’s just knocked out and not dead. A thought I didn’t let myself contemplate when I first entered the house. Grabbing her and pulling her onto my lap, I hear someone running down the hallway just ahead. Pulling out my other gun, I point it in the direction the noise is coming from. 

Brent comes to a stop at the entrance of the foyer. “Is that all of them?” With blood on his arm, he’s breathing hard, eyes roving around wildly. 

With my world narrowing down to the girl in my arms, I vaguely hear Jackson tell him that he’ll help him sweep the house and grounds. While they do that, I sit with my back against the wall and hold Annabelle in my lap, my weapon ready in case anyone else needs to be killed.

Chapter 48

Gabriel

Exhausted from carrying Annabelle to the van, and refusing to let anyone else take over, I still manage to climb in and gently lay her down on the back seat. She hasn’t come to yet and after checking her for injuries, the only thing we can guess is that she’s still drugged.
Or drugged again
. Maybe they’ve kept her like this since they took her. So glad they’re dead, but I wish I’d had a chance to take out at least one of them myself.

Brent takes a seat on the passenger side, while Jackson drives us back to Athens. The plan is to stay there long enough to grab our things and allow Anna to wake up before heading to the airport. Brent informs us that he took out one guy out back and another in the house, which makes four total. The one in the house had enough warning to cause some trouble for Brent. He was wounded, but not badly, just a bullet that grazed his arm. The cut is deep so he’ll need stitches. Surprisingly, I’m relieved. Brent’s her friend and Anna would have been upset had he been seriously injured or killed.

From the looks of the inside of the house, the four kidnappers were squatting at the vacation home of the Greek businessman. Won’t he be in for a surprise when he’s contacted about the dead bodies? The house was a little outside of town, but the nearest neighbor lived down the beach. Someone probably heard the shots.

Anna’s head is resting on my lap for the drive, but no matter how long I stare at her face, she’s still unresponsive. No slight movement like in normal sleep, but dead weight. Again, I wish I’d had the opportunity to shoot one of those bastards for doing this to her. Unfortunately, I was the bait. She would hate this, being helpless. Plus, she missed all the action. Like any good predator, Anna had to be taken down from a distance with sedatives. I can’t imagine any other way they could have taken her alive.

Brushing back the hair from her face, I lean down and kiss her softly on the lips. Sitting in the back of the dark van, I finally let the immense relief wash over me. She’s safe and within the next twenty-four hours, we’ll be on a plane to somewhere else. It doesn’t matter where because we’ll be together. And maybe having Jackson along for the ride isn’t so bad after all. To think what would’ve happened had he not been in Greece with us. Perhaps our story would have ended as Annabelle’s parents’ did, with both of us dead.

Driving through Athens, a phone starts ringing with a ringtone of Adam Ant’s “Goody Two Shoes”. It doesn’t wake Annabelle unfortunately. Brent answers with a, “Hello?” Must be Simon from what he’s saying, confirming that we have Anna and that everyone’s alright. He ends the conversation with, “Okay, see you then.”

Stroking Anna’s hair, I realize I’m about to meet her parent, uncle, whatever. Wonder if he’ll have a shotgun with him. Instead of the normal fatherly warning of owning a shotgun, Simon will probably just promise to make me disappear if I hurt her. Maybe he’ll be creative and throw in a torture threat for good measure. I’d like to think that Annabelle and I are done hurting each other. I’ll do everything in my power to never hurt this girl again. Cupping her cheek, I lean down to give her another soft kiss on the forehead.
Yeah, we’re done with all that aren’t we, baby?

Jackson barely manages to squeeze the van into a tight space just down the street from the house. Brent gets out to slide open the door for me. Gathering Anna in my arms, I climb out of the van and start walking to the house. Through the windows I see that the lights are on inside. Jackson jogs ahead of me and opens the front door, holding it for me. Brent is at my back and I can feel his alertness to everything going on around us. We don’t know who else may be in Athens gunning for us. Relieved that I didn’t just take a sniper bullet to the back of the head while walking to the front door, I step into the entryway.

Stopping in my tracks, I just stare at the man a few feet in front of me. Strange, I pictured him looking differently, maybe taller. Don’t get me wrong, the guy is in great shape for being middle-aged and not bad looking either. But I guess I was expecting an elegant James Bond type, wearing a tux or something. This guy is more inconspicuous. He has curly medium brown hair and brown eyes. He’s of average height and dressed in plain clothing. Attractive, but not movie star handsome. He returns my stare, as if giving me time to take in his presence. Perhaps he’s also taking in mine.

Brent passes me, heading for the kitchen, probably to patch up his wound. I shift Annabelle in my arms and Simon steps forward, reaching out to take her from me. Keeping eye contact with him, I shake my head and walk down the narrow hallway to her room. The sound of the shower already running clues me in Jackson’s whereabouts. Using the toe of my boot to nudge her door open, I enter and lay her down over the comforter. 

Not turning around, because I can feel him behind me, I just stand there looking down at her. “Do you know yet who’s doing this?”

“I think you know who it is,” he answers.

Feeling a sense of despair, because I can no longer live in ignorant bliss, my chin drops. “I was hoping it wasn’t, but I couldn’t think of anyone else it could be, at least not anyone else that I know of.”

“I’m leaving on a plane tonight to take care of it.”

Resigned to what must to be done, I nod wearily. Looking over my shoulder, I meet his gaze. “Thank you.”

His eyes shift from my face to the girl on the bed. “If you hurt her again-”

“Then I’ll shoot myself,” I say honestly. 

A thoughtful expression crosses his face. “Yes, I believe you would.” With that remark, Simon is gone. And a few seconds after that, the front door slams shut. Feeling relief and hope at the same time, I just stand there, watching the rise and fall of her chest.