by L. L. Foster
Accolades for his work were pouring in. Jimbo read the papers daily—a shocking revelation for Gaby—and he kept her informed without being asked. So far the police chief and even the mayor were heralding Luther as a hero. They said his dedication, professionalism, and cool head under pressure had spared the community further, unspeakable crimes.
Cool head under pressure? Gaby snorted. Yeah, being threatened with prolonged torture would qualify as pressure, for sure.
Luckily Luther had endured a drugged sleep through it all.
And she . . . well, she’d only been pressured to dispatch the abominations without Luther being injured, and without him knowing. By all accounts, she’d succeeded.
And so went the banausic nature of her life.
During cooler nights and quiet days, Gaby completed her novel and mailed it anonymously to Mort. In less than a day he’d read it and now he enthused to any and all who’d listen that this was the best Servant graphic novel yet.
Gaby appreciated his praise, just as she appreciated the purgative effect of writing and illustrating this most recent harrowing segment of her duty.
The artistic nature of the work cleared her head, but not her conscience.
As her biggest fan, Morty now had Bliss reading the novels, when she’d never been much of a reader of any kind. There’d been many changes in Bliss’s life, and Gaby thought it was time for her to leave the streets. The girl needed a job that didn’t involve the flesh trade.
Jimbo wouldn’t like it, but she and Jimbo resided in strained, semi-respectful peace, and he wouldn’t want to disrupt that, not for one hooker.
Bored with herself, Gaby strode to her window and looked out at the night. In such a short time, the weather had changed. Heat still ruled the days, but evening temperatures were more comfortable.
Maybe tonight she’d sleep.
Maybe tonight she’d make a decision—the right decision— and remove herself from Luther’s life.
Turning away from the window, she went into her meager bathroom, washed up, and brushed her teeth. Wearing a tank top and panties, she headed for bed. She had one knee on the mattress when a disturbance erupted in the hall. Before she could reach her door, a fist pounded on it.
Outraged that anyone would dare, Gaby crossed the room with a stomping, barefoot stride. “Who is it?”
“Open up, Gaby. Right now.”
Luther? Had something happened? Jerking the door open, and then seeing him whole and unharmed, Gaby prepared to blast him with her distemper.
Then she noted Bliss fretting behind him, and wide-eyed Mort behind her. Seeing her in her underwear, Mort gave her a surprised once-over. Bliss gave her a look of apology. For what?
“What the hell’s going on?”
“No more.” With that cryptic roar, Luther shoved his way past her attempts at blocking him, and kicked her door with unnecessary force. It didn’t quite shut. Being reinforced made it heavier than Luther had anticipated and he turned with a dark scowl to examine her door.
Gaby gaped at him. He was . . . in her room!
No one got into her room. It was her private sanctum, the one place she could let down her defenses. Here, the signs of her extreme defense toward society, along with her aptitude for writing and illustrating, were evidenced.
In a near panic, Gaby scoured her room. The tools she used for her graphic novels were stored away. But the locks on her bathroom door were obvious to the naked eye. And if Luther looked, as detectives often did, he’d find not only her knife but a gun as well.
“What the hell is this door made of? Solid steel?” He lifted a hand to appraise her many locks.
Apprehension nearly took her breath, making speech strained. “What. Do you think. You’re doing?”
Giving up on the door, Luther transferred his scowl to her. “You’re thinking of running out on me again. And damn it, I’ve had enough of that.” His finger pointed, almost touching her chest. “I have my hands full wrapping up this case, fending off bloodthirsty reporters, and thanks to you, I’ve also got half the city wanting to pat me on the back.”
Feeling smaller, more vulnerable than she ever had in her life, Gaby backed up a step. She kept her gaze glued to Luther, unsure what he might he do, or when he might realize the scope of her anomalous existence. “Thanks to me?” Being surrounded by her own damning evidence left her near to panting. “What do I have to do with anything?”
Luther propped his hands on his hips and surveyed her with a critical eye. Voice less caustic, but still inflexible, he said, “This is unnecessary, you know.”
A knock sounded on her door, and he yelled, “Not now.”
Through the door, Bliss said, “But Luther—”
“I’m handling it.”
“It?” Gaby asked. And what was unnecessary?
“You.” Luther gestured at her room. “This.”
Her heart threatened to punch through her rib cage. “You should get out. Now. While you still can.”
He advanced on her, and by sheer instinct, Gaby reacted, throwing a kick that he blocked, an elbow that he dodged.
She found herself tumbled onto her bed, pinned down, and . . . kissed. And, oh God, she felt starved for it, for him— even knowing she should have already left the area.
She jerked her head to the side, and Luther brought it back around.
“Settle down, Gaby.” He touched his nose to hers. “I have something to tell you.”
Uh-oh. She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “What?”
“I’m going to keep your secret.”
Alarm skittered all along her nerve endings. “What secret?”
He ignored that to trace her choker with one finger. “You’re going to have to learn to trust me, you know.”
How could she? He didn’t realize how she’d fabricated everything just to suit her purpose. She’d protected herself, and lied to him in the bargain.
Luther’s gaze met hers. “It’s not always easy for me, Gaby. It goes against the grain to be drawn into falsehoods.” Luther’s earnest expression never wavered. “I’m not a liar, and even a lie of omission eats at me. But I understand it. Hell, if I hadn’t been so busy trying to catch maniacs, I probably would have seen it sooner. But I see it now.”
Oh God, oh God. She shook her head, words beyond her.
Luther held her face in a gentle hold. “I see this, your apartment. And I see your life, what you’ve done and why and what you’ll still have to do. And most of all, I see you.”
Fear, hope, choked her. Around the tears that tried to escape, Gaby said, “You’re nuts.”
He had to be. If he saw the real her, he’d want nothing to do with her. He couldn’t. He was a law-abiding man, and so much of her life fell outside the law.
One corner of his mouth kicked up in a compassionate smile of acceptance. “It’s okay, Gaby. You’re an admirable woman, a woman I can like despite your . . . individuality.”
She stared at him, saw his grin widen before he said, “And it just so happens that you make me hot as hell, too.”
Another tentative knock sounded on her door.
Luther said, “Not yet, Bliss.”
Mired in a jumble of foreign emotions, Gaby licked her lips. “Why is Bliss here?”
Reaching down, Luther wedged his hand to the inside of her thigh, opening her legs wider so he could settle between. Then he propped himself on his elbows and stared down at her.
“Well, you know she was dead-on about the basement, right?”
“You believe that now?”
Teasing, he bent to kiss her lips. “You don’t?”
She’d always believed. So many things couldn’t be explained by science or logic. “I know Bliss has a gift.”
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page for once. Because that’s why I’m here.”
She didn’t understand any of this. “You’re here to talk nonsense and molest me?”
He laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no, I w
on’t molest you. I won’t have to. We’ll be together whether you like it or not.”
That bold statement pushed her ridiculous reserve to the back and brought out her truer nature. “If you think to force me, cop, think again.”
“Silly.” He pushed off the bed, grabbed her hands and hauled her up. “That bed was far too tempting, and I guess it’s time for you to talk to Bliss anyway.”
“I don’t—”
Luther hauled open the heavy door.
Red-faced and worried, Bliss almost fell inside. It was obvious she’d been trying to listen in.
She wiggled her fingers in a half-hearted wave. “Hi, Gaby.”
Standing behind her, offering silent support, Mort watched them. And now Ann had joined them, too.
Unsure of herself and the situation, Gaby just waited.
Ann said, “Do you know what you’re doing, Luther?”
“For once, yes.” He nodded at Bliss. “Tell her.”
Looking down at her feet, rounded shoulders hunched, Bliss sighed. “I see the two of you together, Gaby. Just as Mort and Ann are meant to be, you and Luther are—”
Gaby slammed the door. No. Bliss couldn’t possibly know that.
Time stood still while she struggled to reconcile the impossible with a dream.
Luther touched her back. “Take a breath, honey.”
“You!” Gaby turned on him. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“Probably, but it doesn’t change anything.”
It hurt. More than anything ever had, it hurt. Gaby shook her head.
“I know you care about me. By now you have to know that I care about you. And Gaby? Nothing else matters.”
He caught her when she would have turned away. Jerking her into his chest, he reiterated, “Nothing.”
“That’s because you don’t know.”
He went solemn, serious. “I know I didn’t kill Oren or his relatives. I know you protected me. And I know I’m glad to be alive.”
Gaby’s brain went blank. How could he . . . ?
He swayed her from side to side. “I know that Bliss confirmed what I’d already suspected.”
“Oh God, Luther, you should stop now, while you can.” If he didn’t stop, she might be convinced, and then they could both be doomed.
“I can’t. We’re an item, Gaby, now and forever.” He kissed the top of her head. “It’s meant to be.”
Desperation clawed at her heart. “Because Bliss said so? You don’t even believe in that stuff!” He didn’t believe in her.
But . . . he hadn’t turned her out for lying about Oren. In fact, he’d almost sounded grateful.
“What can I say, Gaby? You’ve made a believer of me.” Luther set her away from him. “Now, much as I realize you’re pretty superhuman—”
Her mind stalled on that description. Not a freak, but . . . superhuman.
“—I’m still just a man, and I’d prefer we ease into the physical part of this relationship little by little. Perhaps tomorrow works for you? I can get out of the station early. What do you say?”
Her brain was still contemplating the odd compliment he’d given. “What are you talking about?”
“I need to make love with you, Gaby.” His gaze skimmed down her body, and came back to her face. He inhaled. “But I’m throwing a lot at you all at once, so I’m trying to be noble. I want to give you time. I want you with me every step of the way.”
Oh, when it came to the sexual side of their relationship, she was with him. “How much time?”
He smiled. “Tomorrow sounds good to me, after we’ve had a chance to talk things out, figure out how we’re going to do this. But for right now . . . Being this close to you with you dressed like that and a bed right there is testing my control.”
The shock of Luther’s proposition wore off, and the possibility of acceptance presented itself. Gaby looked at her bed. Did she dare?
Luther took her hand. “What do you say, Gaby? Want to go out to dinner with our friends?”
Their friends.
Just like a normal couple.
Gaby turned her back on Luther, desperate for a clear thought. But from the first, he’d kept her thoughts jumbled and skewed her perspective.
And maybe . . . just maybe, that had been God’s plan all along. Was it possible she needed to learn acceptance? And in acceptance, could she have it all?
It was worth the risk. It had to be.
Keeping her back to him, but unable to keep her heart any longer, Gaby nodded. “Okay, Luther. I’d like that.”
FB2 document info
Document ID: 282a0436-c60b-4f33-8666-1747a9485cf5
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 14.7.2012
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