Feeling both physically and mentally exhausted, I take a seat at the far end of my big, comfy couch and watch the rumble unfold. Gabriel does have some good moves, though he's a little too technical in his fighting. However, with a little real world experience, he'd improve. Max obviously doesn't have Gabriel's skills, but his technique is straight-up street fighting. Jackson blocks most of his attempts while a few manage to connect.

Sinking back into the cushions, I decide to enjoy the show. Max and Gabriel have the upper hand until Jackson lands an uppercut to Max's chin, taking him out momentarily as he falls to the floor. As soon as Jackson is done executing the punch, Gabriel kicks him in the thigh. Jackson gets a couple good hits on Gabriel following that, but then Max is back in the game.

Seeing that this fight isn't going to have a real winner, I decide it's time to break it up. Coming up behind Jackson, I grab hold of his neck in a chokehold and hook my legs on the inside of his, causing us both to fall to the floor. He's heavy as his weight lands on mine. Straining to keep him in place, I grunt out in his ear, "Rear naked choke." Once he stops fighting it, I finally let go of Jackson, allowing us both to roll to our knees and stand up as I announce, "I win!" Then to Gabriel and Max, I say, "He forgets that I'm a black and red belt too."

Trying to catch his breath, Jackson laughs. "G.o.d d.a.m.n cheater." A girl does what she must. Besides a few bruises, we'll all survive.

Putting my hands on my hips, I stand in a don't-mess-with-me position facing my brother. "Back to business. What the h.e.l.l do you mean, Gabriel's the target?"

Straightening his twisted clothing, Jackson gives me a tired frown. "What I mean, Annabelle, is that we're finally getting rid of him for good." The frown turns up as his lips quirk at the thought.

"Is the contract yours?" I ask, not sure what I'd do in a situation where my brother and ex were trying to kill each other for real. Probably knock them both out and tie them up. After that, well I don't know.

"If it was, he'd already be dead." It's not like Jackson's confidence is misplaced. After all, he's almost as good at killing as me. Poor guy is always living in my shadow.

"How do you even know it's me they're after?" Gabriel asks Jackson suspiciously. Plopping down next to Max on the couch, he uses the sleeve of Max's sweater to wipe his forehead. "And why?" Max yanks his arm back and uses the hood of Gabriel's sweatshirt to wipe at his own sweaty forehead. I'm not even gonna comment.

Jackson shrugs negligently. "Don't know, don't care. Good luck and all though. The door's that way." I reach out to smack at the hand he's using to point at our front door. Jackson gives me a bewildered, 'What'd I do?' look.

Max looks as white as a ghost, still and silent. Oh wait, now he's starting to turn green. Rubbing a hand roughly over his face, he asks, "Is this for real? People are really trying to kill Gabriel?"

"Yep," Jackson says cheerfully, obviously back to his good mood. Mockingly, Jackson asks Max, "Why is it such a surprise?'

Looking at Gabriel like he's some sort of freak, Max sounds baffled, "Why would anyone want to kill my cousin? He's practically a hermit. He doesn't even screw any of the easy chicks I throw at him."

Yeah, Max is so not getting a present from me this Christmas. Unless it contains a time bomb inside of it. Note to self: Something to try in the future. Maybe during a December a.s.signment.

Gabriel smacks Max on the face with one of my throw pillows. "Half of those chicks were your leftovers. No thanks, man." Smiling all lovey-dovey at me, he adds, "Besides, none of them were the love of my life."

"Pathetic," Jackson mutters loudly enough for all present to hear then he laughs evilly. "I can think of three people who'd like to see Gabriel in a casket, but none of us took the hit out on him." With a smug look, he adds, "Of course, all three of us would just do the deed ourselves."

Shoving Jackson, I say, "I don't want him dead."

He rolls his eyes. "Not you, idiot. Me, Simon and Brent."

"Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense," I concede, trying not to think about what I'd do if that really were the case. After Gabriel shot me in Stockholm and Jackson opened his big mouth about it, I had to creatively threaten Brent to prevent him from going after Gabriel.

Gabriel's expression is full of petulant male stubbornness. "I can take care of myself."

"Like I said, the door's that way." Jackson's obvious amus.e.m.e.nt is starting to grate on my nerves. Somehow, I hold myself back from pouncing on him again. I tend to lose our brawls when I attack him in anger.

Sighing dramatically, as if I'm feeling put out, I look at Gabriel. "I guess I'll have to protect you until we find out who wants you dead." Gabriel looks like he has something to say to that, so I quickly turn to Jackson, "Spill. What do you know and how'd you find it out?"

"Simon. Not much else besides the fact that there's a large sum on his head. Simon turned down the contract, knowing it may upset you, but probably not that much." He grins evilly again. "After Simon's rejection, the client put out word that there's an open contract out on Gabriel Pablo Sanchez, age 20, hailing from Miami, Florida. Word gets around fast."

Still annoyed by the attack at the hotel, I tell Jackson, "Yeah, well the amateurs are already making their move. The men who attacked us at the hotel were beginners, but if the money's good, professionals will be on the hunt too."

Gabriel gets up and comes over to stand at my side, wrapping an arm around my waist. "I need to get my cousin home, but after that we can take my dad's plane wherever we want. We'll lay low until this can be figured out. I haven't touched much of my parents' money, but if I have to I'll take a retaliation hit out on whoever wants me dead."

"That could work," Jackson muses, and I can tell from his easy compliance that he always meant to back me up in protecting Gabriel. If that was my decision. Not that I should ever doubt him, because Jackson is the one person I know I can always count on. "Of course, it could backfire. It'd be more efficient to find out who it is and take them out ourselves."

"And fun," I add, really starting to get into the idea. "What information does Simon have through the contact?"

Jackson frowns. "Not much. The client contacted Simon through an untraceable email address."

"s.h.i.t," I mutter. That's not much to go on. "That means we may have to lure him in." Nudging Gabriel with my shoulder, I give him a bratty smile. "Good thing I hunted you down at your hotel earlier, huh?" He just smiles in response.

"I'll be staying with my cousin," Max says stubbornly from where he's sitting on the couch.

Gabriel gives him a hard look. "You'd be safer back in Miami with your mom."

Jackson raises one hand. "I volunteer to knock him out and put him on a plane."

Gabriel grimaces, obviously remembering when Jackson did something similar to him. "No need for that. My cousin will get on a plane or I'll call his mom."

"Aw man, why you gotta bring my mom into this?" Max whines, throwing up his hands with a tortured look on his face.

Clapping his own hands together, Gabriel looks excited. The gleam in his eyes doesn't bode well for me. "It's all settled. We'll take my dad's plane to drop Max off in Miami, then we'll go somewhere to lay low and figure things out." Whispering in my ear just for me to hear, Gabriel adds, "Somewhere that I can see you in a bikini. Remember Barbados?"

Is this the part where I'm supposed to blush? I stomp hard on his foot. "I don't think you're taking this seriously, Gabriel. Where would I hide my weapons in a bikini?"

"Ow," he says on a laugh. "I should have thought of this myself. Whoever took this contract out on me is doing me a favor. Now you can't leave me, baby." He darts out of the way before I can stomp on his foot again.

Jackson does it for me and Gabriel doesn't laugh this time. Ignoring Gabriel's menacing look, Jackson says. "Fine, let's get out of here before they track you here and Annabelle has to clean up the blood."

Grabbing my favorite brown leather backpack, I throw in a change of clothes, weapons, some money and a fake pa.s.sport. Jackson grabs the carryon bag he came home with, leaving the suitcase by the door. Locking up and following the guys down the stairs, I slip my keys in the front zipper and pull on the strap of my backpack.

"Hey Jackson, Gabriel can't travel with his real pa.s.sport anymore. We're gonna need Porky to send him some fake ids and pa.s.sports once we're holed up somewhere for a few days." Jackson nods in agreement, while Gabriel stops on the stairs to wait up for me. Guessing his intentions, I move swiftly past him before he can try anything affectionate with me.

Being in a residential area, we have to wait awhile for a taxi to show, especially this late at night. Asking the taxi service to have a driver meet us at a grocer a few blocks down, the car arrives forty-five minutes later. Jackson sits in front with the driver and directs him to take us to an airport that Gabriel tells us his small jet is waiting at. Jackson then turns sideways in his seat to talk to us, "So, how much is it costing you to store your family's plane here in Paris with pilots on standby?"

"A s.h.i.tload," Gabriel grumbles. "But, I wanted it near in case I needed it."

"To chase after my sister?" Jackson's grin is as smart-aleck as they come. He's quite perfected the look over the years.

Gabriel ignores him and leans his head against my shoulder, saying in a pathetic tone. "I'm scared, Anna. Hold me."

I push him off me, laughing. "Have Max hold you. Better yet, why don't you hold him? He looks like he's about to puke."

Jackson interrupts, "Max would be better off flying commercially. The sooner he can get away from us, the better off he'll be. 'Cause really, I don't think that one would be very helpful in a fight."

"a.s.shole," Max mumbles. "I got in a couple good hits."

Grudgingly, Gabriel agrees with Jackson, "I suppose."

Still turned around in his seat, Jackson narrows his eyes at Gabriel and Max. "Are those my clothes?"

Rubbing his hand down the front of the hoodie, Gabriel says, "Oh yeah, they are. A little too small for me, though. Maybe you should think about working out, Jackie."

"From where I'm sitting, they look too big on you. Especially in the crotch area," Jackson responds arrogantly.

Laughing, I ask Jackson, "Why are you checking out his crotch?" That shuts Jackson up. With a dirty look in my direction, he turns back around. But I hear him muttering darkly under his breath before changing our destination with the taxi driver.

At Charles de Gaulle Airport, we get Max a ticket to Miami. We also buy Gabriel a ticket, hoping to trick any hitmen on our trail. To get past security checkpoints, Jackson and I buy tickets to Madrid. The wait is six hours and Gabriel insists on sitting with Max until his flight boards. It's probably good thinking, considering the amateurs after Gabriel. Gabriel and Max don't look much alike, but mistakes have been made in the past. We kill a couple hours at an airport bar in Terminal 2. Max gets drunk, which isn't a bad thing considering his now calmed nerves.

We had to leave my backpack and Jackson's bag in a locker near one of the entrances to the airport. Gabriel stuffed his borrowed weapons in my backpack. I don't like being without at least a knife, but I'm keeping an eye out for potential contract killers who might be stupid enough to start something in a public place. Messing with me and Jackson, period, would be a mistake. By Jackson's tense expression, I can tell he's thinking similar thoughts.

We put a drunk Max on the plane as dawn peeks over the horizon. This reminds me of kids I've seen at airports who are being flown from one divorced parent to another. Funny, we are sending Max home to his mama in Miami. Jackson was right. Max would be more of a liability in a fight than an a.s.set. He hasn't been broken in to the harsh realities of life like Gabriel.

On the way out of the airport, we pick up hats and sungla.s.ses at a shop and our bags from the locker. The day is gloomy outside, so we probably look r.e.t.a.r.ded in our sungla.s.ses. Or maybe we just look hung over.

After a short shuttle ride, we take a train to the Le Bourget station and another shuttle ride gets us to Le Bourget Airport, where most business jets and private planes fly in and out of Paris. Gabriel called hours ago to have the plane fueled, so we should be good to go. I'm so freaking exhausted from being up the past twenty-four hours that I'm ready to get on that plane and pa.s.s out.

Walking up to the VIP air terminal behind Gabriel, I ask the back of his head, "So, your pilots will be ready?"

He glances back as the gla.s.s automatic doors slide open. "They should be. Said they'd be when I called earlier."

Entering the building, we encounter chaos. People in various uniforms, from the flight attendant kind to the security kind are running around shouting. Through the large gla.s.s windows looking out onto the runway, we see the reason. Gabriel's jaw drops open. I've seen too much in my twenty years to even be surprised.

Jackson states the obvious, with clear enjoyment, "I'm a.s.suming that plane on fire would be yours, Gabriel?" The plane is thoroughly torched, with flames raging and airport fire crew scrambling to put it out. Since the fire seems to be contained to the cabin of the plane, the flight crew is most likely unharmed. Dammit, the bed that I'd planned calling dibs on is now in ashes.

Stunned, Gabriel turns to look at me helplessly. "Now what?"

"Anyone up for a road trip?" I ask with false enthusiasm, not feeling the idea myself. And that fast, Plan B is formed.

Chapter 44.

Gabriel "There they are," Anna announces.

"Spotted them about two seconds before you did, Annie," Jackson remarks in a superior tone.

"Actually, I spotted them thirty seconds before I said anything, which means I spotted them first," Anna shoots back. "But really, Jacks, you don't have to prove yourself to me. I know you try your hardest." She reaches up to pat his back in a condescending gesture as we're walking away from the VIP terminal.

It's a good thing I have my own gun, otherwise I'd be a dead man with all this sibling rivalry going on. But I have to admit that I didn't spot the two men walking parallel to us, on the other side of the baggage claim, until after both Anna and Jackson did. I see them now. One guy is much shorter than the other, but makes up for it in bulk. Both look to be in their mid to late thirties. Can't tell their exact nationality, since I'm no expert, but they do look European.

They're pretending to not notice us, but they look, dress and walk like cliche criminals. Black slacks, black leather jackets, black sungla.s.ses. Not like my criminal buddies here, Anna and Jackson, who follow the criminal school of thought that teaches blending in.

We're nearing a car rental counter when I ask, "What should we do about them?"

"Nada," Jackson answers, obviously unconcerned. Well, if he's not worried, I'm not gonna worry about it.

We get to the counter and Anna starts speaking French to the clerk. Wow, that's hot. Reluctantly, I tune her out in order to stay focused. Jackson leans his back against the counter next to me, keeping his eyes outward, covertly watching the men in black. While we wait for Anna to hash out the details, he holds out his hand to me. "Give me your cell."

Handing it over, I watch him scroll through it. "What are you looking for?"

"What do you have your aunt listed under?"

"Tia Lucy." I read the message over his shoulder that he sends her.

Just put Max on plane to Miami. People trying to kill him. Protect your baby boy.

He hits 'send', grinning unrepentantly.

Sucking on the inside of my cheek, I manage to hold back my laughter. "Man, he is going to be so p.i.s.sed."

"I know. But that's what he gets for trying to throw down with the big boys." Reaching into his coat pocket, he hands a different phone to me. "Take this."

"Why?"

"Because I'm about to get rid of your phone and you'll need a new untraceable one. I almost forgot that you know nothing. First thing you should have done was dump this thing." He throws my old phone over his shoulder and I hear it land somewhere behind the car rental counter at the same time that I glance at Anna to see her taking a set of keys from the clerk.

She smiles at the woman behind the counter. "Merci." Hey, I actually know what that means. Not that I'll ever need the knowledge if I can't return to France. Dead bodies in my hotel room and all.

Walking away from the counter, I tug at the crotch of the jeans I'm wearing, telling them, "Guys, when we get a chance, can we stop to buy me more clothes? These are a little tight on the crotch." I make sure to smirk at Jackson while saying that last part.

Besides rolling her eyes, Anna ignores my remark. But the girl remembers . . . .

With a quick glance behind us, yep, we're still being followed. I'm guessing my future wife and brother-in-law have a plan. The clerk must have told Anna where to find the car because she goes straight to a small blue Mercedes. I hold out my hand for the keys and she shakes her head, getting behind the wheel. I call out, "Shotgun!" But my future douche-in-law is already slipping in my spot. Disgruntled, I get in the backseat. At least I've got lots of leg room.

Anna zips the car out of the s.p.a.ce and drives like a maniac through the parking lot. I turn my head this way and that, but see no sign of our shadows. Instead of taking the turn out of the airport, Anna pulls into a parking garage, going straight to the top level four stories up. Slipping my new cell out of my hoodie pocket, the time says that it's just after ten in the morning. d.a.m.n, I never even went to sleep last night. Maybe the backseat is a blessing since I need a nap.

Anna stops the car and puts it in park. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" Her eyes are on her brother. Her expression is one of eager antic.i.p.ation.

From where I'm sitting, I can see the profile of Jackson's smile when he turns his face towards Annabelle. "Dibs."

Her palm whips out to push against his chest as her eyes flare. "I'm the one who came up with the idea years ago! I get to do it!"

"I get to do it," Jackson says slowly, "Or I won't help you protect loverboy."

"Hey!" I say indignantly, fed up with his use of that nickname. Jackson ignores my outburst. Anna barely spares me a glance.

"Fine," she says through clenched teeth then adds, "Even though I've been waiting forever for the opportunity to do it. And it was my idea."

Jackson clearly doesn't give a d.a.m.n about her whining, woes or anything being her idea. He merely opens his door, while I watch Anna press the b.u.t.ton to pop open the trunk. Taking the opportunity to steal the seat next to my girl, I awkwardly climb between the front seats and over the console to plop down in the pa.s.senger seat. Reaching out, I close the pa.s.senger door that Jackson left open. Before we take off again, I lean over to give Anna a peck on the cheek. She's so cute when she's mad about something and Jackson got her all riled up.

Almost six hours of straight driving later, I'm glad I ate a big breakfast at an airport restaurant early this morning while we waited for Max's flight. As much as I've been craving sleep, I thought it'd be rude of me to nod off, leaving Anna to drive without someone to keep her company. Besides, the past six hours have been great. Anna and I have finally had the chance to really talk. Not about anything deep, just superficial topics, but it's enough to show me that we still click like we used to on a friendship level. She's was wrong when she said we were never friends. We were that and so much more. Plus, I got to watch her for hours while she sat in place behind the wheel. There was no running away from me.

She still laughs at my jokes, that's gotta count for something. I'm in the middle of telling her about my cla.s.ses last term when she excitedly declares, "It's show time!"

Turning around to see what she's looking at in the rearview mirror, I see a gray BMW following closely behind us. And what do you know? Two ugly guys wearing black are in it. Figures they'd show up just as we're nearing Italy's border.

My G.o.d, Anna actually snickers as she pushes the b.u.t.ton to pop the trunk again. She's looks so cute in her evil glee and I'm almost afraid to witness whatever is about to happen. What goes down in the next instant, in a matter of less than a minute, will be filed in my personal history as one of the craziest things I've witnessed thus far.