remained so transparent that she almost pitied them.
Almost.
“Everyone has a choice,” she told them. “You see life, see the injustice, and you can either mimic it or you can do better.” Giving them a fair shot, she said, “Now, decide.”
After sharing a look, one of them said, “What the fuck is she talking about?”
They laughed as one, finding strength in unity. “Bitch, are you loco?”
The darker and more handsome of the two slid a suggestive gaze over her. “She’s butchin’ it up, for sure, ain’t you, girl?” His sleazy grin matched his sleazy perusal. “Wearin’ them ragtag clothes and hiding all the good stuff. But underneath there, mama’s got all the right parts, don’t ya?”
Mustering serene but disdainful mockery, Gaby said, “Just spit it out already. What is it that you fuck-heads want?”
The other boy was taller and looked like a basketball player with his long, lean, muscular physique. Laughing at her, he said, “The skinny cat has claws.” He crowded into her space with cocky obnoxiousness. “I like it. What d’ya say, girl?” He cupped a hand over his package. “You know you want some of this.”
She snorted. “Yeah—just like I want my eyeballs clawed out with an ice pick.”
He got closer still, and now she could smell him, the scent of testosterone, pot, and nervousness.
Oh yeah, he was nervous. And high. His pupils were so dilated, his eyes looked black. Even in the cool air, sweat popped on his forehead and upper lip.
Idiot.
At her insult, his chin jutted and his chest puffed up. “Check that fuckin’ mouth, woman, or I’ll take you right here, right now.”
Next to him, Gaby felt short but not in the least threatened. She leaned in, saying with ominous threat, “Are you really so anxious to lose your cherry that you want to take me on?”
“Lose my cherry? Bitch, you’re trippin’!” His voice shook with fury and insult. “I get laid anytime I want.”
“Using force, I’m guessing.” Gaby stifled a yawn. “No woman would lie down with the likes of you otherwise.”
His clouded eyes narrowed. “Using force,” he agreed on a snarl. “When the mood strikes me.”
Gaby considered giving him some slack for being a moron, for being a product of his bleak environment, but she said aloud, “Nah.” His bragging agreement that he wasn’t above forcing a woman, whether true or not, hit a nerve.
And with that, she punched him in the face, hard and fast. A direct hit from her equaled the same force as getting plowed by a baseball bat. His nose shattered, his head snapped around, and bright red blood sprayed out in a wide arc.
Her victim staggered into a crumbling brick wall and barely managed to stay upright. He clutched a broken pipe for balance while cursing her in lurid terms.
Wide-eyed with disbelief, the darker boy stared toward her.
Gaby flexed her knuckles. Oh yeah. That felt awesome. But she wanted more. A lot more.
“Well, c’mon, girls.” She taunted them both with a
“Un-fucking-believable,” the second boy muttered through bared teeth as he raised his fists.
He lunged forward and Gaby kicked out the knee on his lead leg. He buckled in surprise, yelled out, and fell to the ground.
Amused, Gaby raised a brow. “Well? Is that it?”
The bloody-faced fellow, whose nose now looked like a football it was so swollen and discolored, pulled a switchblade. It snapped open with a quiet snick.
So dumb. He held it wrong, Gaby noted, and a pellucid aura of fear undulated around him.
Why did the biggest cowards always think they had more to prove?
She tsked—and withdrew her own knife. “Mine’s bigger, sweet cheeks. And I’m willing to bet it’s been used a whole lot more than yours ever has.”
His eyes rounded as comprehension sank in. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Your worst nightmare. Your conscience. Or maybe just the one who’s going to put you on a different path. Up to you.”
Instead of taking the offer, the idiot jabbed out, trying to gig her. Gaby dodged his lame attempt with ease and retaliated with a series of fast, flawless slices along his arm, his chest, and low on his abdomen. The cuts were superficial, but still they had to burn.
“Now,” she said, as he stared in horror at the blood seeping through his clothes. “I don’t like abuse of any kind, but I especially fucking hate men who abuse women. So the next cut will be your dick. Tell me, boy, you ready to lose that useless appendage?”
Dumbfounded, he dropped the knife and put a hand to his stomach to staunch the trickle of blood.
Wounded Knee lunged forward with a frustrated cry.
Talk about stupid . . .
Gaby tripped him, took him down to his back hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs, and then dug her knee into the base of his throat. He tried to gasp for air, but could get none past the calculated restriction she inflicted.
Blood oozing from between his fingers, the last man standing pleaded with her. “Hey! He can’t breathe!”
“That’s the point, moron.” Caught on a whirlwind of discordant emotions, Gaby dug her knee in harder.
She needed to hurt him, she really did.
But . . . she didn’t want to.
Panicked, the youth came forward. “Lady, please. You’re gonna kill him!”
“Yeah, so?” She nodded to his knife, still open, lying on the sidewalk. “I suppose you just wanted to trim my hair with that switchblade, right?”
He ran a bloody hand over his face, adding a sinister taint to his punkish appearance. “We were just messin’ with you. Honest. We ain’t never killed no one before.”
“You guys bragged about forcing women. You expect me to just forget that?”
“It was bullshit, I swear. We . . . we took some shit that fucked us up, that’s all. We weren’t thinking straight.”
At his pleading, Gaby eased a little. “I’ll say you weren’t.”
Panic added an urgent edge to his pleading tone. “It was a fucking stupid mistake, okay? We didn’t mean no real harm.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Unwilling to give an inch, Gaby said, “What if you’d harassed someone other than me? What if you’d pulled this shit on a”—she almost said “normal person”—“a woman less skilled?”
“I’m sorry. We’re both sorry.” His voice went high and shrill.
Gaby had a soft spot for siblings—since she had none. But the mention of drugs intrigued her. “What are you high on? What’d you take?”
“I don’t know. Some strong shit. Stuff we bought earlier.”
Huh. “Stronger than usual?”
“Yeah.” He shifted his stance. “Usually that shit is cut, ya know? This might be, too, but not as much.”
Gaby returned the pressure of her knee into his brother’s chest. “Where’d you get it?”
Fear flashed over his ashen face, and he shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.”
That exacerbated Gaby’s already pissy mood.
“Don’t make me ask twice, you dolt.” She did all she could to suppress her fury, marshalling her remaining control to keep the rage at bay.
“But . . . ”
“I want to kill him,” Gaby explained, and it was only a partial lie. She didn’t want the boy’s death on her conscience, but the need for violence churned within her. “Be smart and don’t push me.”
The guy blanched. “We . . . we used to buy from some dude named Bogg. But someone ’bout killed Bogg and left him for the Five-O. They hauled his sorry ass off to some high-security hospital hellhole. His brother stepped up
