She couldn't sleep. Abigail tossed and turned, every once in a while she'd glare at the phone Gabriel had given her accusingly. After closing the photo gallery earlier, she'd set it on her nightstand.
She hadn't expected him to call her soon, but it was already past midnight. How far away did he live anyway?
Can I call you tonight?
His deep gravelly voice haunted her, the memory of his lips and hands sent a cascade of goose bumps over her skin and an uncomfortable clenching throb low in her belly. Abigail hugged herself, clenching her thighs against the ache with a frustrated moan.
"Oh, what have I gotten myself into," she huffed, reaching for the phone again.
As soon as she touched it, it flickered on. With a sigh, she drew her finger over the screen and tapped the gallery again.
Slowly, she scrolled through the pictures until sleep finally did claim her.
Gabriel came to her like the wet dream he was. His mouth clamped over hers as he pressed his body into hers. Again, she felt that obscenely large bulge he had in his jeans press against her abdomen. His kiss tasted like salt water and she gripped his hair to push him away.
Gabriel stared down at her in the darkness.
"Why are you all wet?" she asked as he dripped seawater over her.
His cold fingers traced the contours of her cheeks before moving away from her.
She watched in confusion as he straightened, realizing he was truly soaked down to his biker boots.
"Gabriel?"
He looked sad, the dim moonlight illuminating half of his beautiful face.
Without uttering a single word, he turned on his heel and walked out through the open glass doors of her terrace.
"Gabriel," she called following him out.
Thick fog rolled across the terrace, enveloping him until he was nothing but a barely distinguishable silhouette.
Fear gripped her for him. Where was he going? Why was he soaked to the bone?
"Gabriel, please. Come back. Gabriel?"
Her bare feet descended the terrace steps, but instead of encountering soft grass at the bottom, she winced when her toes touched asphalt.
Through the thick mist, she heard the faint rumble of Gabriel's motorcycle. She could almost make out the shape of it as well as him sitting astride. The headlamps glowed through the fog like a beacon. Loud music cut through the fog.
"Gabriel," she called out again.
As she approached, she heard the sound of another vehicle speeding closer.
He just sat there, his bike idling, as if waiting for her.
There was so much mist, the other person wouldn't see him in time.
Abigail began to run. Or, at least she tried. Her legs felt sluggish.
"Gabriel," she cried out, "get out of the way. There'sβ"
The vehicle smashed into him. Abigail watched, horrified, as the bike skid across the road, sparks flying, and then he sailed over the guardrail in slow motion. She screamed, did her best to reach the now broken guardrail.
The debris the Harley had left behind littered the steep incline. Furious waves pounded the rock a few scant feet from where Gabriel's body lay, twisted and broken.
Abigail sat up in her bed with a terrified gasp. Her heart was pounding against her ribs as she cupped her throat and tried to get her frantic breathing under control.
The sky was already brightening with the first rays of sunlight visible through the glass doors of her room.
She pressed trembling fingers against her mouth to stifle the little sob that was threatening to bubble up her throat.
It had only been a dream.
The sound of loud rock music made her yip in fright, her eyes darting to the phone on her nightstand.
Gabriel?
She knocked over a glass of water in her haste to answer it. There was a picture of Angelo, eyes wide and tongue lolling out of his mouth on the screen with the word Retard underneath.
Abigail frowned and tapped the green phone symbol on the screen.
"H-hello?" she answered shyly.
There was silence for a few seconds.
"Well, shit. Abigail, is that you, sweetheart?" Angelo's gruff voice slurred.
She swallowed. "Um...yeah."
He muttered under his breath and Abigail could make out the sound of rustling bed sheets. "Well I hope I'm not interrupting anything, but tell that horny son-of-a-bitch he'd better call his granma before she has another heart attack."
Abigail's adrenaline shot back up as she shifted to sit at the edge of her king-sized bed. "B-but I don't know where Gabriel is," she blurted.
Angelo moaned, as if stretching. He sighed out loud. "What? Baby, put that idiot on the phone, will-ya."
"Angelo, Gabriel isn't here with me."
Again, silence for a long while. "Why do you have his phone?"
Abigail stood, her hands trembling again. "He said he wanted to call me, but I don't have a phone. He gave me his, but he never called me."
Angelo let out a foul word under his breath. "Listen here, baby-doll. I'll call you in a few minutes, okay?"
Abigail nodded before realizing he couldn't see her. "Yes-yes. Please. Please call me back." She left out the fact that she was scared
The phone went dead and she stared at the screen with a frown.
There were four missed calls. Heart pounding, she tapped on the missed calls symbol.
All four calls were from MamΓ‘. His grandmother?
Abigail looked around her room. It was only half past six in the morning. She'd never be able to go back to sleep. She had planned to go into the nearest town and find a nice church she could attend, but with this mess with Gabriel...she'd have to do it later when he turned up.