He rolled to his back, a hand to his forehead.
Now standing over his supine form, Gaby said, “I could destroy you, you arrogant bastard, and
He lay there, a forearm covering his eyes. Even his breathing seemed to still.
Oh hell. “Luther?” Had she knocked him out?
Gaby nudged him with her foot. “Say something, damn it.”
He dropped his arm. “What do you want me to say? That I’m sorry? Fine.” His gaze bored into hers; his voice softened with rueful sincerity. “I’m sorry.”
No! She would not be drawn in so easily. “Get up, damn it.”
“To fight with you? No thanks.” At his leisure, he propped himself on an elbow. A swelling knot showed on his forehead.
“Why not? Chicken?”
His lips twitched. “You know, if you don’t lower your voice, my neighbors will call the police.” He looked struck with that possibility. “Or they might call me—since I
Her heartache swelled to impossible proportion. “You think this is funny?”
“I think I’m bewitched. There’s a difference.” He patted the ground beside him. “Come here, Gaby.”
“No.”
“Why? You were enjoying the grass.” His expression remained impassive. “And the tree.”
Oh God. “How do you know that?”
“I could see it on your face.” His gaze ranged over her, head to toes and back again. “It’s not just danger, or evil, or . . . bad things that transform you. You’re like a chameleon, forever changing on me, always unpredictable.”
After many vicissitudes of disappointment, she’d had no choice but to change in order to survive. “That’s nonsense.”
“You’re a beautiful woman, Gaby. Not in the typical sense of shallow society standards. You’re more striking than that.”
“I must’ve hit your head too hard.”
“Even when you alter—”
“Morph?”
“Semantics. But even then, your looks are compelling. And sexy.” He patted the grass again. “Now don’t be cowardly. Accept the compliments as truth.”
“How can I when you’re delusional?”
“Possibly. But I’m trying hard to see things clearly. With you, that’s always a challenge.” He held up a hand. “Come down here so we can talk more comfortably.”
Instead, she took a step back. She didn’t trust him in this awkward, sensual mood. “What do we have to talk about anymore?” Far as she was concerned, it had all been said.
“Life,” he offered. “And possibilities—for the past and the present and the future—”
She almost kicked him. “There
“For us, you mean? I think you’re wrong.”
That stymied her, so she addressed his most recent insult. “I am not a coward.”
“Not usually, no. But I scare you.”
He did. So much. Resistance fading, Gaby said, “The ground is wet.”
“And mosquitoes are likely feasting on me in hordes.” He sat up, brushed off his arms and the back of his head. “Okay. How about we just sit in the grass, then? You can lean against the tree. What do you think?”
Gaby couldn’t get herself to move. Filled with skepticism, she asked, “What are you sorry about?”
“A lot of things. Let’s start with I’m sorry for being a cop, and therefore being bound to certain types of conduct and practices.”
“Meaning the edicts that would have you arrest anyone suspicious.”
“Yes.”
“You think I’m suspicious.”
“Tell me what really happened, and then I’ll decide.”
Putting her chin in the air, she said, “Fine.” She dropped down to sit yoga-style and leaned her back against the tree. “I hear the insects.”
“They’re hungry little bastards.” One finger moved up her arm. “And you’re tasty.”
Gaby snatched her arm away. “Some deranged asshole hurt Marie.”
“But he wasn’t the guy we want?”
“No. Just a cretin with an abusive streak.”
Luther didn’t question her authority on that. “How badly did he hurt her?”
Feelings, visions, demitted her cloak of bravado. “It was awful, Luther,” she whispered. “He knocked out one of her teeth, beat on her, and . . .” Her throat hurt, and it seemed impossible to swallow. Gaby touched the choker Luther had given her, the choker she never removed, as if that could relieve the restriction. “He burned her with his cigarette. Twice.”
Comforting, lending strength, Luther’s hand rested on her thigh. “And you being a champion of all the little people, delivered your unique form of retribution?”
Her muscles tightened all over again. “Mock me all you want. I don’t care.”
“Actually, that was my asinine way of accepting you for who you are. You are a champion, Gaby. A defender. You know and care about Marie, but you’d have done the same for anyone you considered an underdog. I know that.”
“Well, whatever you want to call it, I pulverized him.”
“Describe pulverize, please.”
“His arm was broken beneath his elbow.”
“You’re sure?”
“The bone was sticking out.”
Luther made a face. “Definitely broken.”
“When I finished with him, he was pretty bloodied and battered. I only stopped because he couldn’t fight anymore. But before I left him, I told him that if he ever again hurt anyone to get his jollies, I’d cut out his heart and remove his balls.”
Luther winced. “But you didn’t kill him.”
“No, I didn’t.” She picked at a sweet blade of grass, brought it to her mouth. “There were a lot of people there. Jimbo, the hookers, shop owners, renters. Any spectacle is entertaining.”
“What happened to the guy?”
“Jimbo had a friend take him home where we both assumed he’d have someone take him to the hospital.”
“And you think it’s possible that our guy got to him instead, and killed him to set you up?”
Dropping back against the rough tree trunk, Gaby shook her head. “I think he killed him because he gets his rocks off that way. Setting me up is just a bonus.”
While contemplating that, Luther began stroking the bare skin of her leg, over her knee, higher on her thigh. “You’re especially sensitive about anyone hurting women, aren’t you?”
“Or kids.”
Using his hold on her knee for leverage, Luther sat up, moved closer. Whenever he touched her, the size of his hands struck her. He was a large man all over—a large, capable man who helped society without walking the fine line between corruption and morality.
He cupped her face, making her feel small, fragile.
“Tell me, Gaby. Is that because, at some point in your life, someone hurt you?”
Chapter 15
