by L. L. Foster
Ann hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
“Ann.” Coming closer, note in hand, Gaby said, “You’re into fashion, right?”
“Uh . . . ” Ann looked between them, fearful of a trap but unsure how to avoid it. She smoothed a hand over the front of her expensive, tailored suit. The almond color made her skin glow and showed off the highlights in her blonde hair. “Yes, I like to think so.”
Amazed, Luther watched as Gaby reeled her in.
“You probably even enjoy shopping, don’t you?”
“Sometimes . . . ” Unwilling to commit, Ann dragged out the word and then flung her distrust at Luther. “What’s going on?”
Luther opened his arms toward Gaby. “You’ll have to ask her, because I haven’t a clue.”
Gaby handed Ann the list. “How about you pick up that stuff for me?”
Ann glanced at the list, and her eyes widened. “All of it?”
“Yeah. We’re starting at ground zero here. The girls have what’s on their backs, and a pathetic bundle of rags. But don’t worry, I’ll pay you back. Oh, and the sooner you can get on that, the better.”
She started past Ann as if that decided it.
Luther caught her arm and swung her back around. “Hold up, Gaby.”
“Don’t you have some detecting to do?”
It was unfortunate that Ann stood there, still too stumped to remember etiquette and extend them a measure of privacy. She just stared at the note, tallying, perhaps, all that her shopping trip would entail.
“Tell me about the girls.”
Gaby folded her arms and met his gaze. “Sure. I’m keeping them.”
“Keeping them?”
“Yeah. They can stay with Bliss for now. She’s good with kids. But I’ll provide for them.”
“Gaby—”
“You are not going to call social services, Luther. I forbid it.”
That snapped Ann out of her trance. “Oh, perhaps I should wait outside.” She made as if to do that, but didn’t quite leave the room.
“When you get the stuff,” Gaby told her, “drop it off for Bliss, okay? The girls could really use a bath and all, but they need something clean to change into first.”
She turned back to Luther. “I won’t have them put into a flawed system, separated, and left with . . . with . . . ”
“With the kind of foster homes you had?”
Her chin shot up. “They wouldn’t. I was—am—a scary oddity. But the girls are sweet-natured and easy to be around. It’s just . . . ”
“You won’t take the chance.”
“Stop finishing my sentences for me!”
Instead of obliging her, Luther hauled in close. “I know you, Gaby. I understand how your mind works.” He took a deep breath. “And I promise you, we’ll work this out together to find the best solution for the girls. Okay?”
If she’d expected real resistance, Luther surprised her.
“How?”
“I know people. I have friends who run social services. We can do a lot off the radar, maybe even find the perfect adoptive parents for them.” She wanted to protest, but he didn’t give her the chance. “The names sounded Hispanic.”
“They are, I think. Dacia has an accent. I haven’t heard Malinal say much yet.” A fond smile showed in her eyes, if not on her mouth. “She’s pretty shy.”
Always amazed with Gaby’s capacity for caring, Luther hugged her close. “So the kids would probably like a surrounding of their own culture, don’t you think? It’s something to consider.”
Skeptical, she nonetheless shrugged. “I guess.”
“Either way, I can ensure that they stay close, so you can still watch over them. What do you say?”
The idea had merit with her, given her lack of complaint. “You promise you won’t let them go unless we know for sure—”
“That they’ll be safe, cared for, and loved? What do you think?”
She glanced at Ann, let out a huff. “Yeah, you wouldn’t. You’re too nice for that.”
“Thank you.”
Ann stepped into the discussion. “You know, Gaby, the girls will need school. It’s important for them to be around other kids their own age. But if you’re doing things outside the law, you can’t enroll them.”
Gaby put a hand to her head. “Shit.” She paced away, turned back. “I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“At least for now, they’re someplace warm and safe, right?” Ann squeezed her shoulder. “You did a very good thing, Gaby.”
Her eyes softened, a direct contrast to the words that left her mouth. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to let those drug dealers get to them.”
Luther did a double take. “More drug dealers?”
“A brother, and an even bigger asshole than the one I cut up.”
Luther groaned; Ann cleared her throat.
Gaby paid no attention.
“His name is Whit, and I’m sure I’ll have to deal with him again, but don’t worry. I didn’t tear out his spine yet—even though I wanted to.” She kissed Luther quick and hard. “And thanks to you, I no longer have the urge to go back and find him and do it even though you asked me not to. So thanks.”
Left floundering in his own mixed emotions, Luther watched her go.
Folding the list, Ann whistled. “She’s something else.”
“I know.”
“I think I’ll take off early while you finish studying those arson reports.”
“Shopping?”
She shrugged. “I have my own soft spot for kids.” She paused. “Does Gaby really have money to pay me back?”
“Yeah, she does.” Luther thought of her graphic novels and wondered if she’d be writing again soon. Feeling his own amazement, he said, “She’s a lot more resourceful than you’d ever imagine.”
“I doubt that, Luther. With that one, my imagination is always on overdrive.” Ann grinned while tapping the list on her thigh. “I’ll take care of the shopping, and then be ready by tonight.”
Luther wished for some way to have backup handy when he and Gaby went to see Fabian. His gut told him the night would not end well, might in fact be even worse than Gaby foretold.
But he didn’t have legal grounds to call out the SWAT team, and with Gaby around it was always dangerous to involve other law enforcement anyway. Few would back her on her slash-and-dash-them philosophy of fighting crime.
The plan was for Ann to stay nearby outside the tattoo parlor, her radio in hand, and at the first indication of mayhem, she’d call it in.
Luther hoped it’d be enough. Gaby, naturally, would consider Ann’s presence overkill. “I have a real bad feeling about this, Ann. You have to be extra careful. If Gaby is right, Fabian is beyond unbalanced. And we still don’t know if he’s working alone, or with someone.”
“Don’t worry about me. If it does go down, you better have an explanation ready because the lieutenant won’t be happy that you kept him in the dark.”
Having no reason to delay leaving the conference room, Luther held the door for Ann. “Yeah, well, it’s not like he’ll get a chuckle if another body shows up, either. This is the only way I know to stop him, to nail him, so let’s just hope it works.”
Chapter 16
Gaby had to admit, the cell phone was handy as she touched base with the girls time and again. She felt like a fool, pretending to have mothering qualities when she didn’t, but the girls played on her mind, and talking to them alleviated the clamoring in her brain.
She also talked to Bliss. She wanted to ensure that, if something should happen to her, Bliss would see to the kids’ safety. Bliss thought her nuts, but then, her friend didn’t know about her planned meeting in less than an hour.
Dread was yet another new sensation for Gaby, and she didn’t like it worth a damn. Especially since the dread was diluted with anticipation. She wanted to meet with Fabian, to expose his noxious lunacy and then dispatch him with appropriate, grinding finality.
But
not knowing how or why Fabian felt familiar hung like a harbinger of sinister proportions over her head, clouding her perspective and her judgment.
“You okay?” Luther asked as he parked far enough away from the tattoo shop that Fabian wouldn’t be able to read his plates.
“Just ducky.” Keenly aware of their surroundings, Gaby stared out the window and studied every shadow, every shift in the wind. “Why?”
“I feel your tension.” He cupped a warm hand to the back of her neck, underneath the fall of her hair. “Remember, Gaby, I care, and in caring I can’t control my concern for you.”
“Yeah, I got it.” She studied two women sitting on steps, smoking cigarettes and bemoaning circumstances. “I care for you, too, so if I could do this without you, I would.”
He went very still, as if unsure what to say.
Gaby glanced his way. “I’m trying to work with you here, Luther.”
“I know.”
“Then what has you all shell-shocked?”
A slow smile tilted his sexy mouth. “You admitted that you care.”
“Haven’t I before?”
“I don’t think so, but if you did, it wasn’t this sincere.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come on. Get the lead out. I’ve got a tattoo waiting.”
He opened the car door. “I still think it’s a stupid idea to mark your body just to hide a scar that’s damn near gone already.”
“Noted.”
“The way you heal is . . . ”
“Incredible, I know. Just another of my many talents.” Gaby stepped out to the sidewalk. She breathed in the air, held out her arms, and let her senses pick up each small clue.
Hands on his hips beneath a light jacket, Luther cocked a brow. “We’re a block away.”
“And that means what?” Sensing nothing amiss, just the usual misery and despair, Gaby started down the sidewalk. “You think he’s too stupid to be as cautious as us? Not likely. Don’t underestimate him, Luther. It could cost you.”
“I would never risk you that way. Believe me, I’m on guard for anything that might happen.”
He fell into step beside her, and it felt . . . right.
Comfortable.
To be doing this with Luther, to have him with her, changed everything. His impressive size and strength, his unwavering integrity edged by badass determination to see good prevail, lent Gaby a fresh perception on everything she saw, all that she touched and felt, wanted and needed.
She could do what had to be done. Always, without fail.
But she could also retrench, she could stay in herself instead of drowning in the zone. Because of Luther’s nearness.
The ways he effected constructive change in her used to alarm her. But not anymore. Not now.
While she’d always felt akin to a lethal tool used to bludgeon evil, now she sensed her own humanity. She remained an aberration, but hand in hand with that, she was a woman with a mind of her own, making her own decisions.
Looking to the sky, hoping He heard her, she whispered, “This feels as right as anything could. This is the path I choose for myself now.”
The sky didn’t fall on her, so Gaby accepted that God allowed her the growth. With Luther.
It had probably been His plan all along, and if she hadn’t remained so stubborn, she might have realized it sooner.
Gratitude, for what He had bestowed, and what Luther shared, burst inside her, leaving her chest tight again. Emotion could be a son of a bitch when it came at the wrong times.
Headlights hit them and Luther turned, walking backward, as he verified Ann’s arrival. “Right on time,” he whispered.
Gaby glanced back, too. Ann didn’t look at either of them, didn’t in any way give up her association or her purpose in being there.
“I like her,” Gaby confided.
“Since when?”
“Since she showed up at Bliss’s with several bags of necessary and not-so-necessary stuff for the girls. Dacia was speechless, disbelieving in that way of hers because not much good fortune has come her way. But Mali . . . she turned into a chatterbox. I could hear her laughing over the phone, so loud that Bliss got drowned out.”
“When this is done,” Luther told her, “we can take them to the park. And the movies, and the zoo. I’d love to see you at an arcade. You’d probably break the machines with your reflexes.”
Gaby didn’t know anything about an arcade, and just then, she didn’t care. She nodded ahead of them.
Luther turned back around and the tattoo parlor came into sight.
“Everything okay?”
Gaby nodded. “Yeah, I’m just adjusting to the idea of doing this your way.”
“As opposed to your way, which would be . . . what?”
He didn’t need to ask, and they both knew it. “I’d kill him, no questions asked. I look at him, and I see his black soul, the ugliness of his purpose, the sickness of his pleasures.” She put her hands in the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. “If shit doesn’t roll out right, I’ll kill him still. Gladly.”
Luther waited.
“But I’m willing to give it a shot your way first.”
“That means a lot, Gaby.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Luther grinned, but the show of humor faded under the weight of the task before them.
Through drawn blinds, a faint light shone in the front window of the tattoo parlor. It gave the illusion of warmth inside.
But outside, shrouding the tidy brick-and-mortar building, a brume of depravity slunk and swirled, shifted and regrouped.
“He’s inside, plotting, anxious.” Gaby shook her head. “The sick fuck is giddy about something.”
Because Luther looked ready to drag her away, Gaby changed the subject. Luther didn’t understand about auras, or about her special sight that showed things even he, an intuitive cop, couldn’t see.
“I asked around about tattoos so I’d know the process. I don’t want him to slip something into my skin that could poison me.”
Far from bolstered, Luther drew up short. “I hadn’t even considered that.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll know if he tries that.” Gaby kept walking, giving Luther no choice but to keep up. The sepulchral thudding of his boots on the pavement echoed over tall brick façades and crumbling stucco, faded into alleyways.
Gaby made no noise at all. “Stay here.”
Luther started to protest, and she said, “I’m trying it your way, but you’ve got to compromise a little.”
He nodded. “If you’re not back around front in one minute, I’m coming after you.”
Gaby left without further discussion. She followed the perimeter of the building to the side, where she checked an old window and found it secure. In the back, she twisted the doorknob. Locked. The other side of the building didn’t have a window. Back around front, she told Luther, “Everything looks fine.”
The front door opened. Palest light radiated from inside, backlighting Fabian’s body, casting a sinister glow around his cadaverous form. “Of course.” White teeth shone in the darkness. “Were you expecting a trap?”
“Still am,” Gaby told him as she took the lead up the stoop and to the door. “So don’t fuck up—or I’ll kill you.”
* * *
Luther acquainted himself with the shop under the pretext of awe. Dark green paint and wood trim accented yellow walls. Padded stools, a special chair, and wood cabinets had been organized efficiently.
Image suggestions lined each wall, and glass cases displayed a variety of body jewelry. Some of it was beautiful, but some of the heavier pieces looked deliberately painful.
“I had no idea tattoo parlors were so heavily equipped.” On shelves, he saw tattooing guns, inks, sterilization machines, a copying machine, and a supply of alcohol, swabs, and bandages.
A more private room, possibly an office, jutted out toward the rear, leaving a narrow hallway that led to the back door. On the other side of the hall, a closed door
indicated a storage room.
Luther listened, but heard nothing more than his own breathing. The room smelled mostly sterile, with only a faint hint of ink.
Fabian had set out a tattooing apparatus and sealed needle, along with a selection of paints.
Ignoring Luther, he gestured to the chair. “Sit, Gaby.”
She bestowed on him the most noncompliant look imaginable.
Fabian amended the order with, “Please.”
Gaby sat. She eyed the many ink bottles and said, “Just black. Nothing fancy.”
“I understand. But I thought we could edge it in blue or purple—”
“No.”
Shooting for pragmatism, Fabian crossed his arms behind his back and took a breath. “I am not without experience in this. I know what will look best, how to give the tattoo depth and light and movement.”
“Just. Black.”
Luther stood behind Gaby, staring down at her head. She was so cold, so distant, he didn’t know what to think. Was it part of the act, or a real reaction to Fabian?
“Yeah,” Luther said, “I like the idea of simplicity, myself.”
Jaw clenched, Fabian nodded. “As you wish.”
To lighten the mood, Luther asked, “Is that your license on the wall?”
“I display it for the comfort of patrons. Getting a tattoo can be a big decision. I want them to know they’re in good hands.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Luther grinned, but the bite remained in the words.
Fabian took his seat. “Remove the sweatshirt, please.”
Gaby pulled it off over her head and handed it to Luther. Left in a thin T-shirt, she retook her seat and said, “Can we get on with this?”
“In a hurry?”
“Let’s just say I’m not one for idle chitchat.”
Fabian studied her. “You’re worried about the pain? I hadn’t expected that.”
“She’s not,” Luther told him with great certainty. Gaby couldn’t care less about a little pain. But he couldn’t very well tell Fabian that it was his black soul disturbing her.
Unconvinced, Fabian broke into what sounded like a rehearsed speech for his customers.
“Pain tolerance is a unique thing. Everyone reacts differently. In case you didn’t know, the ink is injected into the dermis, the deeper second layer of skin, not just the top layer. I can liken the sensation to being stung hundreds of times by a hornet. Some find the pain nearly unbearable.”