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 passenger side without an argument 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 that I left the club? He is probably still waiting for me to come back to our table.
"Don't answer that," Jackson speaks for the first time since leaving the club.
I look at my phone, "It's Gabriel. He must be wondering where I've gone off to. I should at least answer it and let him know that I'm not at the club anymore."
Jackson grabs my phone, "Not until we talk, you aren't doing anything that has to do with him."
"Why are you doing this, Jackson?" I ask him.
"I'm doing it for your own good. Something is wrong with you, I can tell. Until I figure out what that is, this job is temporarily on hold," he says.
"Nothing is wrong with me," I lie to him.
"Don't try to convince me right now, Annabelle. We'll talk about this when we can sit face to face," he takes a right turn that puts us onto the street that our hotel is on.
"Why face to face?" I think I already know the answer.
"Because I want to look you in the eyes when we talk. You're almost as good of a liar as I am, but I know you better than anyone else. I'll be able to tell if you're lying to me. Plus, you being drunk is only going to work in my favor," he says smugly.
"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, like he was when we left the club.
Five more minutes driving down the busy street and Jackson is pulling into the hotel parking lot. As soon as he parks, I jump out of the car, not waiting for him. I take an elevator up by myself and go to the bathroom to take a shower as soon as I get into the suite. Jackson can just wait for this talk that he insists upon.
When I get out of the shower, I am wearing just a bathrobe. I'd prefer to be clothed, just in case I have to kick my brother's ass, so I change into pajama bottoms and a tank top. When I go into the living room, Jackson is sitting a table and motions me to sit across from him.
I take a seat and belligerently ask, "What?"
"First off, did you have a good time tonight?" That was so not the question that I expected.
I smile sweetly at him, "Why yes I did, dear brother. How about you?"
He scowls, "I had thought that it would be a good night. You were to finish this job and we could have left Miami tomorrow. When you didn't call, I went looking for you. I should have found you at a crime scene, covering your tracks after Xavier Sanchez was dead. Instead, I find you DRUNK at a club and knocking a guy out in front of witnesses."
"The guy really needed knocking out," I ignore the other issues.
"Maybe that's so, but it may not be wise to showcase your talents in front of the target's son," he tells me.
"His name is Gabriel. You don't have to call him the target's son," I remind him.
"No, I think I do. I think you need reminding of why you are here in the first place and it isn't to have a good time with the target's son," he gives me a disapproving look. "Why is Xavier Sanchez still alive?"
YOU ARE READING
Killing Me Softly - Teenage Assassin - aka Young Love MurderTeen Fiction
This isn’t a love story, it’s a love adventure. First love’s a killer, but so is seventeen-year-old Annabelle Blanc. She was raised to be an assassin and taught to never fall in love. She’s at the top of her game until she meets Gabriel Sanchez. Tot...