Gun Games (27 page)

And as her body began to loosen up, he felt her becoming wetter and warmer. Her softening flesh made him even harder. Squirming on his lap while she kissed him deeply. Doing all the work for him.

He opened his eyes and was close enough to see her looking back at him. He smiled and so did she. He mouthed “I love you,” and she mouthed it back.

And that’s how he had always dreamed it would be: staring into the eyes of a girl that he worshipped, face-to-face, chest-to-chest, his body pressed against her, melding together as one. The more they kissed, the more she moved. He felt his breath quicken and knew it wouldn’t be much longer. He whispered, “You gotta get off!”

“My period’s due tomorrow,” she whispered back. “It’s probably okay.”

“Yasmine—”

“I love you, Gabriel. It’s okay.”

“Oh God . . .” His body shook with ecstasy, his arms draped around her back as his fingers clutched her shoulders until every drop of his being was squeezed out. Afterward, breathless and spent, he stroked her head while she kissed his tattooed arms, holding her in an embrace, his eyes filled with tears of pleasure and sadness. Because he knew right then and there that no matter what his life may bring, no matter what intimacies lay in his path, there would never be another coupling as perfect as the one he had just experienced.

Chapter Twenty-nine

T
uesday morning, Gabe’s phone buzzed at 5:22, eight minutes before his own phone alarm was supposed to go off. He fumbled for his glasses and then put on the nightstand light and read the text.

Yasmine had written:
had terrible insomnia.

He wrote back:
what’s wrong?

got my period last night. i feel horrible.

Yasmine wasn’t just making small talk. Though they hadn’t talked about it, they both knew that until her period came, an accident, however remote, was a possibility. Of course, the overwhelming emotion was relief. The surprise was that he also felt a tinge of disappointment.

so sorry. anything I can do 4 u?

no. always this way.

feel better. i love u. dream of me when u go back 2 sleep.

There was a long pause. He thought she signed off. But then his phone vibrated.

gabe, what r we gonna do?

He wrote back:
what do u mean?

m obsessed wth u.
it’s not normal.

m obsessed with u 2. that’s what happens when ur in luv.

so what r we gonna do?

Gabe wrote:
what do u wanna do?

i dunno.

so why do anything?

Another long pause.

She texted back:
it’s different now.

Another text from her:
u know what i mean.

He understood exactly what she meant.
do u regret it?

yes n no.

She sent another text:
i don’t want things to be different. i still want u to luv me.

Her words broke his heart. He could feel the tears in her eyes.
of course, i luv u, yasmine. i will always luv u. 2 me, nothing’s changed except i luv u even more if that’s even possible.

A long pause.
what if i don’t want 2 do it again?

He sighed again.
He
wanted to do it again. Over the last two days, it was the only thing he thought about. He wanted her physically and totally—inside out and upside down. But he knew that the sex wouldn’t be sustainable. She was way too much a good girl and way too young. He knew he could force the issue, but that wasn’t him.

No matter. He’d take her on any terms she’d give him.

whatever u want, yasmine. do it or not do it, i will luv u always.
A pause. Then he texted:
i would still die 4 u.

stop saying that. it gives me the creeps.

just proving a point.

i luv u sooooooooooooo much.

He could feel her smile.
i luv u so much with even more oooooooooooooooooooooo.

:)

Gabe wrote:
feeling better?

a lot!

She sent a follow-up text
.

now all i have 2 worry about is my mom finding out.

A third text.

maybe we should skip 2day . . . not b so obvious.

Gabe wrote
: now m really depressed!

Then he wrote:
cn we make out electronically?

how do we do that?

i dunno. how about ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

lol.

go back 2 sleep, yasmine. feel better. I luv u.

i luv u 2. i will always luv u . . . 4ever n ever.

4ever n ever,
Gabe texted back, then shut off his phone.

He turned off the light and lay back in his dark room, staring at nothing. With his glasses on, he could make out shapes and shadows. One part of him was glad to have the extra hour of sleep. The other part missed her terribly. He was thankful that they had done it even if they never did it again. At least he’d have the memory—the ultimate sensation of their bodies melding into one. The image still sent shivers down his spine. Not to mention what it did below the waistline.

The clarity would last for a while, but he knew it would eventually fade, just like his mother’s love. It’s not that his mom didn’t love him; Gabe knew she did. It’s just that without her physical presence and all that went with it, the love was abstract and therefore meaningless to him. It provided no light when he was dark and despondent.

Yasmine was his beacon, but how much longer would that last?

Forever and ever.

Until her mom finds out.

A
fter she hung up the phone, Marge got up and knocked on Decker’s open door.

He looked up. “Come on in.”

“I called Kevin Stanger.” Marge spoke as she leaned against the door frame. “I was hoping he would name names with regard to the gun. But he doesn’t want to talk to us. Furthermore, his mother won’t let us talk to him.”

Decker beckoned her in with a crooked finger. “Can you come in? You’re giving me a crick in my neck.”

She sat across from his desk. “I can’t pry anything more out of these boys. Without names, we’re sunk. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Too bad, because I’ve run out of them,” Decker said. “As much as I hate to admit it, it may be time to close the books on Gregory Hesse and Myra Gelb.”

“Don’t fret,” Marge said. “We still have Gregory Hesse’s stolen computer as an open file. If we get evidence against Dylan or any of his gang, we can always reopen either suicide. Then you can say I told you so.”

Decker said, “I’m aghast that you’d think I’d be out for revenge.”

“You know what they say,” Marge told him. “Revenge is a dish best eaten cold.”

“Hmm . . .” Decker mused. “I have a feeling that if I ate cold revenge, all I’d come away with would be a massive case of reflux.”

W
ith a jaunty step in his walk and his portfolio case tucked under his arm, Gabe felt spiffy in a patch-pocket, brown corduroy coat, white button-down shirt, black jeans, and three-inch snake boots. He especially liked the added height that put him at six three—one inch shorter than his father’s size in stocking feet. He was nicely dressed, casual enough, but not sloppy. He reached up to adjust his glasses.

Then it dawned on him: he shouldn’t be wearing glasses.

The audition today was an important one—people from some prestigious recording label in New York—and Nick told him to look his best. He reversed directions and jogged back home just as dawn was breaking. Yasmine had to be up by now, but she probably hadn’t left the house. He thought about texting her, but then he thought since she was always late, he’d wait for her to text him.

For
once,
he’d be the late one. He knew she’d tease him about it. It made him smile.

They hadn’t seen each other for two days and the anticipation of meeting with her drove him wild with excitement. Although they had been texting words of love and lust, it paled in comparison to a live person: touching her cheek and stroking her hair, his lips against hers, their tongues intertwined, his hand sneaking up under her skirt.

Shit, he was getting hard again.

Made it hard to run.

The detour and the switch from glasses to contacts took about fifteen minutes. When he was on the road again, he texted her.

gonna be a little l8. don’t say a word or i’ll spank u.

He waited for his phone to jump. When a minute passed and she didn’t respond, Gabe texted.

r u there?

Another minute ticked by.

Weird.

Maybe her phone was acting up. Funny because it was fine last night.

His heart began to beat rapidly. As usual he was probably overreacting as he did to everything. No matter, he said to himself. He was just a few minutes away from their trysting place, better known as Coffee Bean.

Maybe he’d actually beat her there even with his being twenty minutes late.

And sure enough when he got there, she was nowhere to be found. The place had just opened, and he was the only patron around. It was still early. But after five minutes passed and she still didn’t show, he began to get a strange perception. He even checked both bathrooms, feeling like a pervert.

Nothing.

His gut kept telling him something wasn’t right.

“Hey, Gabe.”

He turned around. The counter was being manned by Joe today. He and Yasmine had come here so often, the staff knew them by name. “Hey, Joe. Have you seen Yasmine this morning?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

It was approaching six-thirty. A few patrons had come and gone. By now, she usually deigned to make an appearance.

He stepped outside and looked down the empty streets.

He felt an ominous throbbing in his chest. In his heart of hearts, he knew what had happened. Her mother had found out about them. She had taken away her phone.

Shit!

At first, he felt very sorry for himself, but then his thoughts quickly turned to Yasmine.

She was going to get reamed.

It was time to man up.

He had to call her parents, tell them that everything was his fault. He had lied to her, he had duped her, he had seduced her, he had forced himself upon her . . .

Maybe that was too much. He didn’t want them to think he was a rapist.

He knew he probably wouldn’t even get that far. No doubt, her mother would hang up as soon as he introduced himself.

Still, he had to make the effort. Take one for the team.

Then he realized he didn’t know her landline.

The smart thing to do was just to go over to the house.

Her mother would slam the door in his face, but at least he’d make a valiant stab at being noble. But before he made his final appearance, he decided to give Yasmine one last call.

Final appearance. The thought was beyond depressing. All the vitality had suddenly drained from his body. With shaking hands, he punched in her phone number.

He heard the line connect and then he heard the phone ring.

The ringing sounded like it was underneath his feet.

He looked down.

One of the bushes was ringing?

Beyond weird.

When her phone went to her voice message, the ringing stopped.

His eye caught a flash of silver.

He bent down.

It
was
a phone.

Her
phone.

Not only her phone but also the silver watch he had given her.

Confused and panicked, he picked up the items and stowed them in his pocket.

Did her mother catch up with her just as she was about to come inside? Did she drag her away? Did Yasmine lose her phone in the process?

He could understand her dropping the phone in the middle of the fray, but why would she lose her watch?

Standing on the sidewalk, he frantically searched in all directions for a sign of what had happened to her just as the sun rose from the horizon.

Yasmine, where the fuck are you?

Maybe he should just go over to her house and . . .

Why the hell her watch?

Be logical, idiot,
he said to himself.

He thought for a few moments and kept coming to the same conclusion. She had left him her phone and her watch as a sign . . . hoping he’d find them. Her watch especially, something so cherished that she’d never let go of it voluntarily.

She was in deep trouble.

But how could a girl like Yasmine get into deep trouble?

A mugger?

A pervert?

A kidnapper?

His mind was whirling a mile a minute as his heart thumped in his chest.

And then his brain hit upon something, a micro flashback as to what brought him to Coffee Bean in the first place.

Crazy, gun-toting, asshole Dylan and his loony band of followers . . . the way Dylan had acted like he owned the fucking Starbucks, him going nose to nose with him.

But surely Yasmine wouldn’t do anything to offend him. She certainly wouldn’t face off against him.

But he couldn’t get them out of his mind . . . especially the whacko blonde that Dylan had been with . . . the look on her face the day they saw each other at the bus stop . . . the pot in her purse . . . the anger in her eyes when he had turned down getting stoned with her at her house.