What the hell? “Mort? Is that really you?”
Using the back of his hand, he swiped away a tear. Of happiness? Shit.
“Of course it’s me,” he said around a robust laugh, and he didn’t look the least bit self-conscious about weeping like an infant. “Luther called to say you were finally coming over, so I hurried out to meet you.”
“Luther called you?”
Ignoring her question, he let his gaze roam all over her. “I almost didn’t recognize you, Gaby, you look so different!” He held her at arm’s length. “Look at you!”
Feeling like a freak with the way he gawked, she shook him off. “Stop it.” Two gangly youths walking by tried to mean mug them, but one vengeful glance from her and they kept on going.
Mort beamed. “Same old Gaby where it counts, I see.”
Now what the hell did he mean by that? “I altered the façade a little, that’s all.” Changing clothes and hair had been necessary camouflage to help her blend in. “It’s nothing.”
“You have nice legs.”
Without even meaning to, Gaby surged up nose to nose with him, oozing menace and prickly beyond all measure. “Do you want me to demolish you?”
To her shock, he kissed her nose. “No.” Then he bear-hugged her again, and all Gaby could do was stand there, arms and legs stiff, head back as far as her neck would allow, as she suffered his excess of affection.
“Come on,” he said as he finally turned her loose. He clasped her hand. “Let’s go to my place so we can catch up.”
She didn’t budge. “I’m going to kill you, Mort.”
He laughed, held his hands out in surrender. “I’m sorry, Gaby. I really am. I know you’re not into public displays. It’s just that I really have missed you. Where did you go? Why did you leave me?”
Leave him? He smiled as he spoke, but a shitload of hurt shone in his pale blue eyes. He’d been her first friend.
Her only friend. Because he’d insisted. Little by little he’d forced his way in, and now he thought she’d abandoned him.
Gaby’s stomach burned with guilt, and she hated it. With all she’d done—the people she’d dismembered— hurting one landlord’s insignificant feelings shouldn’t factor in.
But it did.
Father was a confidante, a teacher, pseudo-family. But he hadn’t been as compassionate and caring, as . . . affectionate, as Mort.
Damn him for doing this to her.
Taking a cocky stance, she rolled her eyes. She meant to sound flippant, but instead, at the last second, the words emerged rife with aching loss. “I thought you were dead.”
He blinked hard and fast. “Dead?”
Out of her element, Gaby lashed out, thwacking him on the shoulder and turning to walk a wide circle. “You were caught in that damned abandoned hospital. It exploded. I saw you go down, Mort.”
“You’d already left.”
She shot around to face him. “I came back for you!”
“You did?”
It was too much. She hadn’t expected to feel this . . . this . . . whatever. She didn’t like it. And it was Mort’s fault.
“Fuck it.” She strode away, her long legs eating up the pavement—until Mort rushed around in front of her.
“I’m sorry.” His feet braced apart, expression forbidding, he blocked her. “I didn’t know.”
She couldn’t believe it. Had the world gone topsy-turvy on her? Composure slipping, she snarled, “Get out of my way.”
“No.”
Mort’s scrawny chest expanded on a deep inhalation. “But Gaby, even if I had known what you thought, I couldn’t have done anything about it, could I? You walked away and I had no idea where to find you. I thought you had taken off for good.”
Still incredulous, she repeated, “No?”
He shook his head. “Please. Let’s go to my place and talk. Your room is still there. You can move back in —”
The groan erupted with volcanic force. Worse and worse. She didn’t want to hurt Mort again, but moving back was out of the question. Disgusted, she grabbed his hand and dragged him to the curb to sit. “Park it, Mort.”
He parked.
Pacing behind him didn’t do one damn thing for her temper, so she finally dropped down beside him. The short skirt, always an annoyance, rode up. But what the hell? It was too dark for anyone to see, and she didn’t give a flip anyway.
Putting her elbows on her knees, she let out a breath. “I can’t come back, Mort.”
“Why?”
Being questioned by anyone was as new as friendship. But she supposed it came hand in hand, so she cut Mort some slack. “I can visit, but I can’t live there. And no, don’t grill me. I can’t, and that’s that.”
“Where are you living now?”
“Over at the corner of Fifth and Elm.”
He drew back. “But that’s—”
Eyes narrowing, Gaby said, “Yes?”
With new insight, Mort took in her hair, the length of her exposed thigh, and he blanched. “No way.”
She punched his shoulder hard enough to nearly topple him off the curb. “Of course not.”
“It’s a disguise?”
“It’s me, a freak of nature, fitting in the best I can.” The only real disguise was her pretending to be a normal human.
“Oh, Gaby.” He started to hug her again, and she warned him off with a single look. He settled back and smiled. “You’re special, but you’re not a freak.”
“Says the dork.” She gave him a fond look. “I’m not sure you’re in a position to know a freak if you see one.”
“Maybe,” he agreed, accepting that he wasn’t a popular figure himself. “What I don’t get is, if you’ve been so close, how come Luther didn’t find you sooner? He’s sure been looking.”
“I know.”
It wouldn’t hurt to tell Mort a little about what she did, how she’d secured new quarters and a modicum of anonymity. Before they’d parted ways, Mort had witnessed some of what she did. He didn’t understand it all. He couldn’t. But he knew that she killed only when ordered to.
In whatever way necessary.
“You remember when I asked you about sex?”
Mort stiffened, looked around, scooted a few inches away. “Yeah, uh . . .”
“Oh, for crying out loud. Stop squirming. I already know what I need to know now, no thanks to you.”
His gulp could be heard above the normal night sounds.
Rolling her eyes, Gaby cut to the chase. “I was looking for a place to hole up when I heard a hooker fighting some guy. He’d tried to take the goods without paying, and she wasn’t happy about it.”
“Oh God.”
“I made him pay, that’s all.” Given her mood at the time, she’d reveled in the punishment more than she should have. The show had impressed the woman and later her friends, left them awed and feeling empowered. They saw her as their own superhero—and Gaby, in need of cover, hadn’t dissuaded them of that absurd notion.
To simplify all that, she said, “The woman appreciated my help.”
Mort’s incredulity hit her in waves. “I’ll just bet she did.”
“I don’t think anyone had defended her, in anything, for a very long time.”
