Free Young Love Murder by April Brookshire

executes a dirty move, causing me to sigh in appreciation. This sort of reminds me of a show I watched on Discovery Channel where male Bengal tigers were fighting over a female in heat. Dumb animals. Not the tigers, but Gabriel and Max
    A teacher comes out and breaks it up, giving them detention tomorrow and a speech about blood being thicker than water. As much blood as I’ve seen in my life, I can attest to that. It oozes, water runs. Of course, sometimes blood sprays too, horribly messy stuff. Max comes up to me before he leaves, placing a hand on my face and says, “I would have treated you good.” He turns on his heel to walk towards his car and I think this is the part where I’m supposed to feel remorse or confusion. He’s implying that Gabriel won’t treat me well. How sweet, but he’s pitying the wrong person. 
    Despite my cynicism, something about his words seems prophetic. Quit being paranoid, Annabelle!
    Gabriel comes up to me and I muster an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about coming between you and your cousin.”
    His smile is at odds with the regret in his eyes. “That’s okay. He always forgives me eventually.”
    “I hope so.” 
    I don’t really feel bad about coming between them. It’s hard to feel guilt over something so trivial with all of things I’ve done in my past. Surprisingly though, I don’t like seeing Gabriel unhappy. That’s weird.
    He smiles more warmly at me, his voice changing to match, “So, I guess you need a ride home? Or do you want to hang out?”
    “Yeah, we could hang out,” I tell him thoughtfully, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to me. Of course it had, it’s part of the plan.
    “So, your place or mine?” he asks, opening the passenger door of his car for me.
    Here is the perfect opportunity to scope out his father’s estate and look for weaknesses in security. “Let’s go to your place? After we stop by my hotel, so I can change.” He agrees with a nod, shutting the door once I’ve pulled my legs in.
    As we head for the hotel, I send a text message to Jackson. Stopping by the suite with Gabriel Sanchez. Make yourself scarce.
    By the first stoplight, I get a reply. Should I stay and chaperone?
    His joke is more on target than he thinks. I text him back as a sister should. Get lost!
    Another text comes from him seconds later. Fine, but no boys in your room young lady!
    I laugh, slipping my phone back into the front of my checkered backpack. Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”
    Watching him shift gears, I shake my head. “Just a retard being retarded.”
    “ Okay ,” he enunciates slowly, obviously not liking my vague explanation. Minutes later, and lots of shifting in gears, we’re pulling into the hotel parking lot.
    We take the elevator up to my suite, with Gabriel stealing a few kisses during the ascent. When I open the suite door and walk inside ahead of him, I come to an abrupt stop. Strewn all over the living room area of the suite are my undergarments. And, I’m not talking just bras and panties, but also garters, stockings and all sorts of sexy lingerie. I’m going to kill him! Only because of my years of training, am I able to keep from blushing. Some of this stuff is not what most teen girls wear.
    Gabriel picks up a G-string that’s hanging from a lampshade and asks, “Couldn’t decide what to wear this morning?”
    “Something like that,” I mumble as I go around picking everything up. I’m going to murder Jackson for this! I’ll take it out on his belongings if I have to, maybe his favorite gun should go MIA. He always tells me that he’s a big brother first, assassin second, as if it’s some sort of responsibility to him. Could he maybe not let the big brother role interfere in my jobs and my love life? Mentally slapping myself, I remind myself that I don’t have a love life. I have a job to do.
    After gathering everything in my arms, I turn to where Gabriel is sitting on the arm of the couch, smirking in