by L. L. Foster
Ann touched his shoulder. “Not now, Luther. Let’s get out of here first.” She shivered. “I’m tired, disgusted with it all, and freezing.”
“At least two of us are human enough to admit that.” He saw Gaby stiffen and almost regretted the verbal jab.
But damn her, she had treated him like a child, like an unskilled buffoon incapable of handling the very fiber of his job. And on top of that, she planned to get a tattoo just to facilitate a closer inspection of Fabian’s tattoo parlor.
Out of habit, and because she was close, Luther put a warming arm around Ann.
As if she had eyes in the back of her head, Gaby stalled in front of them. Slowly, so slowly that Luther could almost hear a drumbeat crescendo accompanying her movement, she turned to stare with deadly intent—at Ann.
Saying nothing, not moving, she stood there until Ann rolled her eyes and inched out of his reach.
“Let’s don’t provoke her,” Ann suggested. She strode ahead of Gaby and opened the car door to get in.
Gaby still glared at Luther, and he met her fury with his own measure. He would not back down from her; not in this, and not with anything else.
Her left eye twitched, and she turned away to join Ann in the car . . . in the backseat.
So he was to play chauffeur?
He’d be damned before he asked her to ride up front with him.
Given her posture, Ann wasn’t at all pleased with the close confines of the backseat. Showing her irritation, she nestled up to her car door, as far away from Gaby as she could get.
For her part, Gaby slouched down and propped her knees on the back of the passenger seat. She looked bored. Pissed off and bored.
Luther handed the drugs to Ann. “Hold on to that, will you? And be careful.”
“What is it?” Ann loosened the tablecloth and peered inside.
“An array of dope I confiscated before Gaby and I left Fabian. I couldn’t blow my cover, but there was no reason to leave it there for others to use. Thanks to Gaby, we just came off as a dysfunctional couple. Grabbing the dope only reinforced our pushiness.” He started the car and jacked up the heat. “Be careful with that until I can book it into the evidence room.”
“We are a dysfunctional couple, and I am pushy.” Gaby picked at a fingernail. “No stretch of the imagination there.”
At least she called them a couple, Luther thought. “I should get to the station to do my paperwork. But there’s no reason for us both to go.”
“I’m your partner,” Ann said. “That’s reason enough. And besides”—she gave a meaningful glance toward Gaby—“you have other stuff to see to tonight. I’ll take care of it. Drop me at Mort’s so I can grab my car first.”
He didn’t relish the idea of leaving Gaby home alone, knowing she might take off again. But neither did he want to drag her along to the station. He could only imagine the questions that would crop up if everyone witnessed her prickly temper.
“You’re soaked.”
“So are you. But I have a change of clothes in my locker at work. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Ann located her purse, found a tissue, and tried to repair her makeup. “And this way, you’ll owe me.”
Relieved, Luther nodded agreement. “Gaby, tell us more about Fabian. You think he’s our man?”
“He’s something.” Staring at nothing but the darkness, Gaby kept her gaze out the window. “Definitely a killer, definitely a psycho lunatic. His stench was all over those bags.” She looked at Ann, and in infuriating and unnecessary fashion, added, “The bags of inedible human parts.”
“Of course.” Ann slapped her purse down beside her on the seat. “What others bags would you possibly mean?”
Fearing a real conflict might erupt, Luther said, “Knock it off, Gaby.”
Gaby slouched more. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Gaby . . .” Luther warned.
Insulted, Gaby said, “She’s all scrunched up over there like she thinks I’m planning to hurt her. I don’t fucking hurt women.” She rethought that and added, “Well, unless it’s for their own good.”
Luther let out an aggrieved sigh, and explained to Ann, “She slapped around the little skirt who was hanging on me, basically just to scare some sense into her.”
“I’m sure her tactics worked just fine,” Ann said to Luther, and then to Gaby: “But I have plenty of sense already, so I don’t need you—or anyone else—trying to bully me.”
“When did I?” Gaby asked.
Incredulous, Ann swung around to stare at her in disbelief. “Just before! You know good and well that you threatened me with a look.”
Her brow went up. “I was threatening Luther, actually.”
“You were looking at me.”
Gaby smirked. “Yeah, so Luther would know why I was threatening him.”
“Of all the ridiculous . . . ” Ann reached out to touch her arm. “That is not how a woman shows a man that she cares.”
On alert now, Luther kept his mouth shut and just listened.
Gaby pressed the heels of her hands to her eye sockets. “Look, Ann, I have nothing against you except that Luther likes you so much and you’re so fucking perfect. But you can take your advice and—”
“Perfect?” Luther and Ann said at almost the same time.
Ann scowled at Luther, and then said to Gaby, “That’s absurd. I’m far from perfect.”
Gaby dropped her hands and crossed her arms over her chest. “Bull. You’re a fucking saint, and everyone knows it.”
Discomfited, Ann tried a different tack. “Gaby, Luther and I are only—”
“Friends, yeah I know.” She looked out the window again. “Saint that you are, you wouldn’t cheat on Morty, and Luther isn’t the type to poach. But for whatever reason, it doesn’t seem to matter to me.”
Ann and Luther shared a glance before Ann said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Gaby’s sigh was long and exaggerated. “Look, I know you two wouldn’t fool around. But I still don’t like how close you are.” She sawed her teeth together, gave up her scrutiny of the darkness to glare at Ann. “If you want me to spill my guts, then I guess I’m fucking jealous, and isn’t that a kick in the backside?”
Always so honest, Luther thought. A modicum of irritation eased, pushed out by warm sentiment.
Knowing Gaby cared enough to be jealous lent him a certain peace of mind, and gave him confidence that eventually things would work out with her.
Pleased with her, Luther drove out of the alley and headed toward Mort’s without saying a word.
Ann cleared her throat. “There’s no reason to be jealous of me, Gaby.”
“Jesus, pay attention will you? I just told you that you’re perfect.” Gaby reached behind her and pulled out her knife. As she polished it against the denim of her jeans, she extolled Ann’s virtues. “You’re classy, anyone can see that. And smart. And even though you’re really pretty, you’re still kind.” Voice dropping to a mumble, Gaby added, “Even to a mutation like me.”
Ann scooted closer to her. “We’ve discussed this before, Gaby. You’re not a mutation, so don’t say that. I think you’re brave and honorable—”
“And freakish.” She lifted the knife to inspect it. “Admit it. I scare the shit out of you.”
“You’re unpredictable and I know your ability, so yes, you can make me nervous. But nervousness is a long way from fear.”
Letting that go, Gaby made an abrupt change of topic. “Getting a tattoo is a good idea. It’ll give me time to dissect the crazy fuck, maybe figure him out. He’s our guy, I’m almost sure of it, but there’s something about him that’s throwing me off.”
Since that was something new for Gaby, Luther didn’t like it. Usually she saw things in clear-cut, unwavering precision. “Throwing you off how?”
“It’s hard to explain. He has the sickest aura I’ve ever seen. It even lingers around his tattoo
parlor, this thick smog filled with pain and misery. But he’s got smarts, too. And a higher frequency of light and power. And . . . ” She stopped, going introspective.
“What?” Ann asked.
“He knows me.” Voice faint with bewilderment, Gaby said, “Somehow, I think the bastard recognized me.”
“From the previous crime scene?” Luther shook his head against that possibility. “We were careful. And you stayed in the cruiser . . . ”
“No.” She shook her head. “I meant that he saw me, who I really am. It was in his eyes, in that messed-up aura of his. When I got near him, it sparked, almost . . . almost like we were connected somehow.”
Very glad now that Ann would take care of business so he could get Gaby home, Luther said, “All the more reason for you not to let him tattoo you.” Hell, he didn’t want to let her anywhere near the lunatic, much less have him stick a needle in her.
Gaby shook off her brooding contemplation. “That’s a dead issue, Luther. Let it go.” She showed Ann her arm. “Besides giving me a chance to dissect his psyche, the tattoo will cover this scar.”
Ann studied her arm with concern. “Is that from a gunshot?”
“Bullet just grazed me, no big deal. But you see, everyone knows what a gunshot wound looks like, so I need to cover it up. People are too damn nosy as it is. I don’t need to go around advertising my life with scars.”
“Damn it, Gaby—” Luther started.
Again changing the subject, she said to Ann, “You have a really bright aura.”
“I do?”
Luther snarled. “Gaby, we’re not done discussing this.”
“I’m done, but, hey, if you want to talk to yourself about it, feel free.”
Ann’s curiosity overrode Luther’s irritation. “What does my aura look like?”
Momentarily giving up, Luther glanced from the road to the rearview mirror to see Gaby studying Ann.
“Everyone has an aura, but usually it extends out pretty far until it sort of fades away.” Lifting her hands, Gaby moved them slowly around Ann. “Yours is real close to your body, intense and bright, like you’re protecting yourself.” She sat back again. “You sure you’re not afraid of me?”
“I’m not afraid,” Ann stressed. “I trust in your ethical nature.”
“My ethical . . . ” Gaby snorted, as if attributing such an asset to her was asinine. “Then it’s Mort. I hope you’re not leading him on.” She pitched her voice low in warning. “I wouldn’t like that.”
“Neither would I.” Ann went silent for several seconds as she searched for the right words. “In all relationships, there’s a certain amount of uncertainty. The more important the relationship, the worse it is.”
“And your relationship with Mort is important?”
“I’ve never really been in love before,” Ann explained. “At least, not like this. I don’t want to rush into anything.”
“Especially since you and Mort are so different?”
“I don’t think we are. Not when it comes to core values, and that’s where it really matters.”
Ann relaxed, sounding more like herself, and like the woman Luther knew and respected.
And trusted.
She could be a valuable friend to Gaby if only Gaby didn’t feel so threatened by her.
“Understand, Gaby, I’ve dated pretty boys before, guys who spend the best part of their free time in a gym and salon, ensuring they always look their best. And I’ve been with wealthy businessmen who live under an umbrella of entitlement. None of them have gotten to me like Mort has.” A smile sounded in her tone. “He’s very special, and he makes me feel special.”
It occurred to Luther that, when not skittish from Ga by’s volatile nature, Ann treated Gaby as she did everyone. While Gaby was well used to fear, deference, and distanced caution from those who came into contact with her, Ann spoke to her as she might a close girlfriend.
She even leaned in to bump shoulders with Gaby, startling her and causing Gaby to scowl.
“Mort is the kindest and most sincere man I know.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Love is new to me. And I’m only a woman. I need time to adjust, that’s all.”
A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed Gaby’s reaction to that. She didn’t understand Ann, didn’t trust the openness and acceptance. And she knew jack-shit about love.
But with any luck, Luther would change that.
Though tension still hummed in her body, Gaby slouched back in a deceptive pose. “Yeah, well. Time won’t make any difference. When people are lovers and in love, you can see them both in the same aura. I see Mort’s aura when I look at you and yours when I look at him.”
Did Gaby have an aura? Luther wondered. And if so, did it show in his aura? She mentioned his many times, but never with any connection to hers.
“It’s like Bliss said.” Gaby rolled her head toward Ann and gave her a meaningful look. “You’re meant to be together, so you might as well stop shying away from it.”
“And you, Gaby?” Ann studied her. “Will you stop shying away?”
Luther pulled up in front of Mort’s and let the car idle. He was anxious to hear what Gaby had to say, but she disappointed him by saying nothing pertinent.
“Here he comes.” She rolled down her window to greet Mort as he rushed out the front door and into the dark night. “Take a breath, Mort. She’s in one piece.”
“And you?” Mort asked. A streetlamp lent crazy shadows to his features, amplifying his obvious concern. “How’d you fare?”
“Don’t ask stupid questions. Who could hurt me?”
It was that attitude that often put Luther into a cold sweat.
Gaby rolled the window back up and glanced behind the car through the rear window.
As Ann hustled out of the car, the bundled drugs in hand, she said to Luther, “We need to make this quick, because we were followed.”
“You saw the tail?” Gaby asked, surprised.
“Did you?” Luther repeated.
Gaby rolled her eyes. “Apparently we all did. You lost him a few blocks back, but Ann’s right, we shouldn’t hang around or we risk compromising Mort.” She crawled over the seat to sit up front. “Wait until it’s clear before you take off again, Ann. Be cautious. And if anything happens, call.”
Wearing an indulgent half-grin, Ann nodded agreement. “Thanks, Gaby. But remember, I am a trained professional.” She winked, snuggled close under Mort’s arm, and walked away.
Luther squeezed the steering wheel. “News flash, Gaby. You aren’t in charge.”
“No?” She hooked her seat belt and settled back. “Well, Ann and Mort are already up the steps to the front door, and it really wouldn’t be smart to hang around. But, hey, do whatever you want. If some bozo shows up starting shit, I’m sure I can handle it.”
Frustration drove heat up his neck. “You’re in rare form tonight, aren’t you?”
“If by rare form, you mean majorly pissed off at you, then yes.”
“Why the hell are you mad?” She was the one who’d crashed his cover and taken over, treating him like a nitwit in the bargain. Because of her, he and Ann were breaking protocol by not taking the drugs directly to the station. If anyone got wind of their roundabout trip . . .
“I’m furious because you snuck off without me!” She turned toward him, and added with venom, “And you were schmoozing with Ann.”
It’d take a while to get used to her jealousy. “We were undercover, that’s all.”
Her voice rose to match the rage sparking in her eyes. She leaned nearer to give him the full blast of her temper. “And being undercover meant you had to lie to me?”
“I did not lie.” Luther jerked the car into gear and sped out into the street. The momentum thrust Gaby back in her seat. “I just didn’t tell you because I knew you’d take over. And you did.”
“Spin it however you want, cop. It was a lie of omission, and if that’s the way w
e’re playing it still, then fine.” She propped her feet on the dash and crossed her arms. “I can play.”
Damn it. Every time it felt like he’d made headway, Luther found himself falling back two steps again. Frustrated, he shot through a yellow light, then turned a corner too fast.
After several minutes of steaming silence, Gaby looked at him with pity. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer holding all that rancor inside.”
He glanced toward her—and noticed something odd about her features. The fury remained etched in her demeanor, but now something else was there, too.
Something hotter than rage.
As he continued tossing wary glances at her, she made a sound of annoyance. “For cryin’ out loud, Luther, I won’t crumple, you know. You can blast me if you need to.” Her beautiful blue eyes went darker, more intense. “But if you are going to blast me, I suggest you hurry it up.”
“Why?” Luther stiffened in dread. Was she about to get a calling? Is that what had so subtly transformed her?
Dark eyelashes shadowed her eyes. “Because once we get to your place, I have other plans.”
That did it. “What other plans?” If she thought to take off again tonight, he’d damn well tie her down if he had to. He’d lock her in a room. He’d—
“Thanks to you, I’m tense.” She flexed her fingers, rolled her neck. “Earlier today I had to pound on two punks who tried to waylay me.”
Dear God. “How bad?”
She shrugged off his concern. “Other than a broken nose, busted knee, and maybe a rib fracture, they’re okay.”
His nostrils flared as he dug deep for flagging control. “You’re starting to make a habit of fighting in the street.”
“We were on the sidewalk, smart-ass, and my method of dealing with assholes is nothing new. But since I didn’t massacre them, I’ve still got all this pent-up energy. And then Mort let it slip about that stupid party—”
“Rave,” he corrected.
“Orgy,” she clarified with a black scowl. “I saw more kinky sex tonight than I did when I lived with a gaggle of hookers.”
Luther tried and failed to calm the rush of his temper. He knew what she’d seen, because he’d seen it, too. Damn it, he had wanted to protect her, not drive her further away. “And now you’re angry, and you want to punish me by taking off again?”