Gabriel Two hours after arriving at the club, five more times dancing with Anna and four Long Island Iced Teas total for her, I can tell that she's tipsy. I've had only three Coronas, so all I'm feeling is a slight buzz.

"I can't believe I'm drunk!" Anna says excitedly, throwing her arms around my neck, giving me a big kiss. Hmm, stay right where you are. We're up in the VIP section and Max has now joined us with a brunette girl dressed up as a nurse. A hooker nurse is what Anna would call her. Hopefully she won't, though.

I put an arm around Anna's shoulders and sit back into the leather booth, bringing her with me. "And why is that, baby?"

Her cheeks are flushed and she looks adorable with her eyes shining. "I've never been drunk before!"

"What?" Max and I ask at the same time.

"How is it that you've never been drunk before? We met you at a club, Anna. Was that your first time clubbing?" I ask her, thinking her declaration unlikely.

Anna pecks me on the cheek. "Oh baby, that's so cute. You thinking that it was my first time at a club. I got into my first club when I was thirteen in Thailand. At that age in Thailand, it was actually quite easy." She starts giggling and I think her words again unlikely.

I've never seen her speak so freely of her past before. I know that it's her being drunk that's loosening her tongue and I wonder what else I can get out of her. "What were you doing at a club in Thailand, at only thirteen years old?"

She taps me on the nose with her index finger, with challenge in her gaze. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes, I would. So, why don't you tell me?" I prompt her.

"Sorry baby. If I told you, then I'd have to kill you. And believe me, I wouldn't like doing that one bit," she says, the expression on her pretty face turning sad.

"Good to know," I tease her. "How would you kill me?" Glancing across from us, at Max and his nurse, I see they're amused by Anna too.

She stares into my eyes with her slightly dazed golden brown ones. "Something quick and painless would be the only option, maybe in your sleep, so you wouldn't see it coming." Max starts laughing, but something in Anna's demeanor bothers me. I shake it off, thinking that maybe I'm drunker than I realize.

Max's laughter is interrupted by a commotion coming from a table to our right. A guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties has a woman by the arm and is shaking her. The abuser has an enraged visage and the woman looks terrified. I start to stand up, to intervene, but Anna quickly rushes over to them, moving fast for someone so far from being sober. The man grabs the woman by the hair with his other hand and I follow Anna, afraid that she'll get hurt. I can feel Max's presence right behind me.

As I'm coming up on them, I hear Anna say, "Let her go or I'll hurt you."

The man laughs at her and before I can intervene, she pulls back her fist and punches him squarely in the jaw. The guy falls to the ground, losing his hold on his victim. I look at Anna in shock. "You knocked him out!"

Anna is asking the woman if she's alright, stepping over the brute on the floor. When she's satisfied and the girl is walking down the steps out of VIP, she turns to me. "Lucky hit, I guess." But I'm not so sure. Anna being drunk is only adding to her mystery. Not that I don't like the tipsy Anna. Bouncers finally show up to carry the guy out. Bouncers are some of the most efficient employees out there. Troublemakers in clubs are always dealt with quickly.

I grab the hand that Anna used to hit him. "Are you okay?" Checking her hand, I see that it's a little red, so I place a gentle kiss on her knuckles where they'll probably bruise.

She pulls her hand back, looking at me funny. "Yeah, I just need to go to the restroom and run my hand under cold water."

"I can get ice from a bartender," I suggest.

But she's already walking away, almost at the stairs. She shouts over the music, "No, that's okay. I've got it."

I lean against the rail, in the same spot that I was in when I first laid eyes on her. I can see her making her way towards the restrooms near the front of the club. She's almost to the hallway that leads to them when a man grabs her arm. My first instinct is to rush down there to kick his a.s.s, but after what I just saw her do to the guy up here, I'm curious to see if she can do it again. Was it really a lucky hit? Instead of hitting the guy, though, it looks like they're in a heated argument.

About to rush down there anyways, I suddenly recognize the guy. It's that Russian friend of hers. I don't remember if she ever told me his name. What's he doing here and why are they fighting? Still holding her by the arm, he starts dragging her to the exit of the club.

Running down the stairs, I weave my way through the crowd. I pa.s.s by the doormen and look around outside, spinning in all directions on my feet. I can't see them anywhere, so I run under streetlamps towards where Max parked his Mercedes. As I near the car, I see a yellow Lamborghini race down the street past me.

Chapter 10.

Annabelle After Jackson pulls me out of the club, he leads me to where he parked the Lamborghini. He doesn't say a word to me, but I'm not exactly eager myself for the conversation to come. I get into the pa.s.senger side without arguing and Jackson speeds off. My phone starts ringing and I don't even have to look at it to know that it's Gabriel. Does he even know I left the club? He's probably still waiting for me to come back to our booth.

"Don't answer that," Jackson speaks for the first time since leaving the club.

"It's Gabriel. He must be wondering where I've wandered off to. I should at least answer it and let him know I'm not at the club anymore." G.o.d, I miss him already. Get used to it, drunk Annabelle.

Jackson s.n.a.t.c.hes my phone. "You're not doing anything involving him until after we talk about your behavior."

Seriously? He's about to get some aggressive behavior right in the jaw. "Why are you doing this, Jackson?" Dressed so casually, in jeans and a rugby shirt, I'm wondering how he got in the club. He probably bribed the doormen.

"I'm doing it for your own good. Something is seriously wrong with you. I can tell. Until I figure out what that is, this job is temporarily on hold," he says in a bemused tone.

"Nothing is wrong with me," I grit out the lie between clenched teeth.

"Don't try to convince me right now, Annabelle. We'll talk about this when we can sit face to face." Feeling warm, since Jackson didn't put the AC on, I roll down the window. The night's mild weather and the movement of the car produce a cool breeze. Taking a right turn at a green light puts us onto the street that our hotel is located.

"Why face to face?" Unfortunately, I think I already know the answer to my question.

"I want to look you in the eyes when we talk. You're almost as good a liar as I am, but I know you better than anyone else, so I'll be able to tell if you're lying to me. Plus, you being drunk will only work in my favor," he a.s.serts smugly. b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"I'm a better liar than you. Plus, I'm sobering up at an astonishing rate," I retort. Jackson just laughs at me. At least he isn't still mad at me, huffing and puffing and ready to blow all the skysc.r.a.pers down. I giggle at the thought. He shoots me a dirty look out of the corner of his eye. Okay, so I'm still kinda drunk.

Five more minutes driving down the busy street and Jackson's pulling into the hotel parking lot. As soon as he parks, I jump out of the car, not waiting for him. Ditching him to take an elevator up by myself, I head straight for the bathroom upon entering the suite. Jackson can just wait for the talk that he insists upon. I'm taking a shower.

The blast of the water sobers me up a bit more. Wanting to be in something both comfy, for this unavoidable discussion about my behavior, and something that won't hinder my ability to kick Jackson's pompous a.s.s if necessary, I pull on a pair of black yoga pants and a sport tank top. As I exit my bedroom, Jackson's sitting in one of two sitting chairs in the living room. He motions for me to take the other chair, so I sit, putting the coffee table between us lengthwise.

"What?" I ask snidely, giving him a disgruntled look.

"First off, did you have a good time tonight?" That was so not the question I'd expected. And I know he doesn't really care about me having a 'good time'.

I smile sweetly at him, changing my tone to match, "Why yes I did, dear brother. How about you? Any good shows on TV tonight?"

He scowls. "I had thought that it would be a good night. You were supposed to finish this job tonight and we would've been leaving Miami tomorrow. But when you didn't call, I went looking for you. I should have found you at a crime scene, covering your tracks after killing Xavier Sanchez, putting on a good act. Instead, I find you drunk at a club and knocking a guy out in front of witnesses." Jackson is trying to be the calm, reasonable big brother right now, which always makes me want to p.i.s.s him off.

"The guy really needed knocking out," I mutter loudly enough for him to hear, ignoring the other issues he'd brought up.

"Maybe so, but it may not be wise to show off your talents in front of the target's son," his voice rises slightly, patience diminishing.

"His name is Gabriel. You don't have to call him the target's son," I remind him.

He gives me a look, like I've gone insane. "No, I think I do. I think you need reminding of why you're here in the first place and it isn't to have a good time with the target's son." He stops to give me a disapproving look. "Why is Xavier Sanchez still alive?"

So, he's finally asked the big question. "It didn't work out tonight." I look him straight in the eyes while lying, daring him.

"Why didn't it work out?" he prompts.

"The party was too crowded," I lie to him.

"You're lying," he says curtly, glowering at me.

"How do you know?" Countering stubbornly, I glare back.

"Like I'm gonna tell you. You'll just figure out a way to lie better in the future. I'll keep it a secret, since I'll probably need to use it again sometime." He smirks in that superior way that always makes me want to commit violence. That made me commit violence growing up.

I'm starting to get really annoyed. I don't answer to Jackson, he isn't my boss. Until Simon is the one questioning me, I refuse to confess. "Can we get on with this interrogation?"

Jackson rolls his eyes. "It's not an interrogation. I'm just doing what's best for you, Annie."

"What's best for me is for you to give me my phone back. I need to smooth things over with Gabriel. Don't need him breaking up with me and ruining the plan." I tap my foot under the table impatiently to get the point across, but the floor is carpeted and it ruins the effect.

"You can have it back when I find out what's really going on. Why didn't you kill Xavier Sanchez tonight? And I want the truth," he says sternly. Yeah that warning look stopped being intimidating when I was eight.

I'm silent for about a minute while I decide whether or not to tell him the truth. Jackson sits across from me patiently, like he has all the time in the world. Of course he does, not having anything better to do at the moment than bother me. "I was going to."

"And?" He raises one eyebrow and I want to yank the hair out, one at a time.

There's no getting around it, he'll hound me until I spill. "I followed him when he went upstairs alone. I retrieved the weapon hidden in Gabriel's room. I crept up behind him and choked." Resigned, I tell the truth. Well the basics at least.

"Why did you choke?" he asks, sitting forward in his chair. A brief flicker of surprise flashes over his smooth features before the calm facade is back in place. I know how he feels, I surprised myself tonight too.

"It wasn't the right time," I reply lamely.

"I think I know the answer, but I want to hear you say it. You've never choked before, not even your first time. Why wasn't it the right time?" he asks, completely emotionless, except for his eyes. They tell another story. The intensity of his ire and disturbance burns brightly in them.

I sit silently for almost a full minute, contemplating. Maybe I'll feel better, confiding in Jackson. "It wasn't the right time because . . . I want more time with Gabriel. Because . . . I think I'm falling in love with him."

Jackson almost jumps out of his chair, pounding his fists on the table. "G.o.ddammit! What were you thinking, Annabelle? Falling for the target's son?" As I thought, his calm facade was just that.

"It's not like I did it on purpose, Jackson! I couldn't help it!" I yell at him defensively, tears forming in my eyes that I refuse to let spill.

Taking a deep breath, he calms down enough to sit back down. "It's okay. I'll finish the job myself and we'll leave. It can be like it never happened."

Those d.a.m.n tears spill. "But I don't want to leave Gabriel." My throat is so tight I'm surprised I can get the words out. Not to mention the embarra.s.sment of admitting all this to my brother.

Jackson moves over to my side of the table and hugs me. Comforting, but it doesn't solve the problem. "I know Annie, but it's inevitable. Xavier Sanchez has to die and you can't stick around afterwards, whether I do it or you do it. If anyone ever makes the connection you need to be long gone. You know that's how things work."

I wipe my cheeks with my fingers. "I know and I don't need you to finish it for me, Jackson. I always finish my a.s.signments. This one will be no different. That's the best way for me to get my head back on straight." But this job has been so different.

Jackson looks me in the eyes, as if judging the truth of my words. "Are you sure?" His concern is beginning to overshadow his anger, lucky for me.

"I have to be," I say more confidently. I need to face the fact that I can never stay with Gabriel. Jackson is right. Gabriel's father does need to die and staying with Gabriel afterwards would be both risky and unbearable. Perhaps even cruel, since I'd be his father's murderer. It wasn't meant to be.

Jackson's phone starts ringing and he looks at it, muttering darkly. "f.u.c.k. Just what we need right now." He answers it with, "h.e.l.lo, Simon?" Silence. "She's right here." He hands me his cell.

"Yes?" I manage to nervously get out.

"Annabelle, has the job been completed?" he asks right off the bat.

"Not yet. But it will be soon."

"I have information that Xavier Sanchez was in Miami tonight." Of course he would know that. Simon always knows everything. His computer geek ferrets out the information for him.

"Yes, he was, but I was unable to find the opportunity to finish the job. Sanchez was constantly surrounded by people tonight at his home. I'm certain I'll be able to find an opportunity that involves no witnesses." I feel guilty lying to Simon because I've never had to before.

"I trust in your abilities, Annabelle." He should, he taught me most of what I know.

"Please put Jackson back on the phone for me," Simon requests.

"I just have one quick question, Simon."

"What would that be?" He sounds surprised. I don't blame him, I rarely ask questions anymore.