The Acceptance s-2 Page 10

  After gaining that purchase, the rest of the climb was easy.

  Ascending higher and higher, Gaby made it to the correct floor, crawled in through an open window, and passed through a home of devastation and apathy. She closed her ears to the crying babies, the blaring television, the drunken revelry in the kitchen. Without anyone paying notice, she walked on through and went out the front door into the hallway.

  Two doors down, her knife in her hand, she knocked on Carver’s hideaway.

  The door opened to a bulldog of a guy prepped to grapple.

  Gaby watched him display his discolored teeth in an earnest smile of anticipation—and she slugged him in the temple with the hilt of her knife. He collapsed forward, she moved, and he fell into the hallway. Behind him, Carver stood in frozen disbelief.

  Gaby narrowed her eyes at him. “If you run, I will catch you, and then I’ll make you a choirboy. Do we understand each other?”

  He backed up, hit a wall, and looked around for assistance. Finding none, he nodded.

  Hilarious.

  If only Luther had even an ounce of this man’s reverence for her ability. But he didn’t. He accounted her no proficiency at all.

  Gaby shoved the bodyguard’s heavy legs out of her way, shut the apartment door, and locked it. Still holding her knife, she glanced at Carver and pointed toward the tattered sofa. “Sit.”

  Seething, Carver swallowed hard and moved to park himself on faded, flowery damask. “Haven’t you done enough? What the fuck do you want now?”

  Silvery scars showed on his ruddy skin.

  Scars she’d given him.

  It was nothing compared to the hurt he’d inflicted on women throughout his miserable life. “I want answers. I want the truth. If you lie, I’ll know it. Do you believe me?”

  “Yeah.” His nostrils flared. His mouth pinched. “I believe you.”

  “Did you murder Lucy?”

  His face went pasty white. He croaked, “Lucy’s dead?”

  Tapping her knife blade against her thigh, Gaby stalked closer while measuring his honest response. “Dead, tortured, diced, and thrown in the river.”

  Eyes bulging with fear, Carver shook his head. “I never touched her.” Just as quickly, he blanched and recanted that statement. “No, wait! That wasn’t a lie.”

  “Sure sounded like one to me.”

  He rushed into garbled speech. “I didn’t kill her. I swear it. I’ve slapped her around—you already know that. But I didn’t want her dead. I wouldn’t. I swear.”

  Gaby tipped her head, studying him, but . . . she believed him. More than that, she knew he was telling the truth. “What about Bliss?”

  Like a fish out of water, his mouth flapped open and closed until he managed to whisper, “She’s dead, too?”

  Almost, Gaby thought. So close. In the marrow of her bones, she knew the person who’d tried to take Bliss, the person Bliss had somehow managed to escape, was the same who’d murdered Lucy.

  Gaby inhaled deeply.

  So why was she bothering Carver?

  Because she’d desperately wanted it to be him? Because, in the end, she had wanted it to be that simple?

  Rubbing her eyes, Gaby said, “She’s not dead. Someone stuck a needle in her neck and tried to kidnap her. She escaped.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know.” Sheathing her knife, Gaby said, “You had nothing to do with any of it, did you?”

  “No.”

  Of course not. She’d known it, but damn it . . . well, at least now she had it verified. “You still plotting against me, Carver?”

  “No!” He shook his head hard. “I just want to be left alone. I don’t—”

  A prickle slithered down Gaby’s spine, belying his words. She gave Carver a gentle study, and tsked. “Now you’re lying.”

  Panicked, Carver lurched to his feet and held out both meaty hands. “Okay, okay, so I had wanted to get to you. You cut me all up! But . . . I don’t anymore. I consider us even. I swear.”

  “Stop swearing.”

  Losing control, he lunged for her. Gaby went to the ground with him, rolled, and buried her knee in his gut. He let out a “woof” but didn’t slow. With the palm of her hand, she smashed his nose, and at almost the same time, drew her knife.

  That gave Carver pause. Quick and easy, Gaby put three additional slices on him—one on his right forearm, one on his chest, and one over his abdomen.

  “You wanna play now, Carver? You feeling froggy enough to take me on? Well, come on then.” She egged him forward. “Let’s play. I’m more than ready.”

  He wiped the blood from his nose, stared at the blood seeping into his clothes, and crumpled down on his ass to sit on the threadbare carpet. “No. No, I don’t want to . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Damn you, woman, can’t you just leave me alone?”

  Yeah, she should. She was wasting her time here. “Maybe. If you leave me alone.”

  Before Carver could reply, someone pounded a heavy fist against his door. “Carver? Open up right now or I’m knocking down the door.”

  Luther.

  Damn, he was good. Impressed, Gaby bent close to Carver, snaring him in her gaze. “Tell the cop nothing about me, and then we’re even. You got that?”

  “Cop?” He stared with horror at the rattling door. “But I don’t want to talk to no cop!”

  “Tough tittie. He’s here, and you can take my word for it, he won’t be leaving until you’ve answered all his questions. Unfortunately for you, he won’t be nearly as easy to convince as I am.” Gaby grabbed his chin. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Yeah, sure. You weren’t here.” Carver looked back at the door, turned again, and said, “But what if . . . Hey, where’d you go?”

  Out on the ledge, Gaby listened, almost smiling. The door crashed in, Luther’s booming voice shouted her name, and Carver, true to his word, said, “There’s no one else here. What do you want? What do you mean, breaking in my door?”

  As Gaby scampered back down the bricks, she didn’t hear anything else. But she pictured Luther’s red face, his hot temper.

  Then she pictured him holding Bliss in his arms. A whore with puke in her hair. A woman bleeding.

  And Luther had held her like a delicate child.

  Gaby’s feet touched the pavement and she sighed. There weren’t many men like Detective Luther Cross, and it sure made him hard to resist.

  But until she figured out what evil incarnate had tried to hurt Bliss, until she destroyed that evil, she’d do well to stay clear of the good detective.

  Sometimes, most times, her life really sucked.

  Chapter 7

  Still seething, but also . . . scared, Gaby strode into the hospital. She wasn’t afraid for herself.

  She feared for Bliss.

  From the day she’d met the young girl, she’d felt compelled toward protectiveness. Gaby had first saved Bliss from a despicable john who had grossly abused her, and wasn’t done.

  One look at Bliss, and anyone could see the lifelong sadness in her blue eyes, the despondency emanating from her smiles. Her life had been hell—much like Gaby’s.

  Gaby had felt an immediate affinity to her.

  But whereas Gaby had strength of purpose, Bliss still wandered, clinging, needing . . . as yet unloved.

  Until Gaby, no one had ever protected Bliss. No one had ever really cared for her at all.

  How Gaby knew that, she couldn’t say, except that when she looked at Bliss, she saw herself.

  And it hurt.

  Now Bliss needed her more than ever, but she’d found out nothing. The animus remained at large, out there somewhere, pursuing, conspiring.

  Unless Luther had better luck with witnesses, which she doubted, they’d have zilch to go on.

  A dark car.

  An attack.

  Nothing more.

  Gaby’s head pounded, her guts churned, and her eyes burned. She would not let anyone or anything hurt Bliss. She wouldn’t.

&n
bsp; Somehow, some way, she’d—

  “’Bout time you showed up.”

  At that carefully even voice, Gaby spun around, and there stood Luther, tall, powerful.

  Furious, despite the lack of venom in his words.

  Unconcerned with his mood swings, Gaby turned and headed toward him. “How’s Bliss?”

  His nostrils flared. His gaze all but seared her. Turning sideways and indicating a hallway, Luther said, “This way.”

  Well . . . regardless of how he’d modulated his voice, his aura burned scorching hot, so Gaby didn’t know if she wanted to follow him. More cautious now, she asked, “Are you taking me to see Bliss?”

  He didn’t look at her. His hands landed on his hips and his chest expanded. Fury worked his jaw. “Come. With. Me.”

  Uh-oh. Sounded like he meant business. Truthfully, she was too damned enervated to spar with him right now. Never, not once, had she ever feared Luther. She sure wouldn’t start now.

  “Fine. Whatever.” Gaby sauntered past him. “Don’t get your boxers in a bunch.”

  Her sarcasm must’ve tipped the scales, because Luther imploded. Snatching up her arm, he lifted her to the tips of her toes and propelled her forward before she could even think to object. When they reached a private room, he practically slammed her inside.

  “Hey!”

  He shut the door and with theatric temper, lifted his hands up and off her as if he thought touching her would inspire mayhem.

  Something had gotten to him, and that worried her. An invisible fist clenched her heart and compressed her lungs. “Is Bliss okay?”

  Scorn distorted his features. “Do you even care?”

  The rancor slapped her with blinding force, almost bringing tears to Gaby’s eyes. It almost hurt too much to speak, forcing her to a whisper. “You miserable prick.”

  God, how she wished she didn’t care.

  Wanting to escape, to be alone with her detestable self, she reached for the door.

  Luther wrenched her back around. “Don’t.”

  Keeping her head down, Gaby didn’t dare look at him. Usually she’d be in fighting form. Under different circumstances, Luther’s audacity would find him flat on the floor.

  But this time . . . she didn’t have it in her.

  Everything she knew herself to be—her only purpose in life—did her no good right now. Bliss was vulnerable, and she couldn’t figure out how to help her.

  “If you care, why the hell did you run off and leave her? Why did you abandon her?”

  Explanations weren’t her strong suit, but for some reason, Gaby needed Luther to understand. “I wanted to find whoever tried to take her.”

  “That’s my job.”

  A pressing weight stooped her shoulders. “Then . . . that leaves me with no purpose at all.”

  He edged closer, vibrating with rage, ready to lose his control. Leaning down, each word sharp with contempt, he said, “You could have consoled her. You could have been her friend.”

  Damn, those tears were determined to spill over. Gaby shook her head—and felt like a fool. “The thing is . . . I don’t know how to do that.”

  Silence stretched out. Muffled voices drifted over the intercom. People passed by in the hallway. In the distance, a faint siren intruded.

  Luther’s hand tangled in her hair, smarting a little, but so what? He sounded hoarse and despondent as he cursed her. “Damn you, Gaby.”

  Yeah right. “I was damned long before I met you, cop.”

  Bending down, he touched his forehead to hers. His breath rushed against her cheek. His voice softened. “Don’t say that.”

  Fine. She’d say nothing at all.

  “Damn it.” He pushed her head to his chest and held it there, then locked his free arm around her.

  She’d gone from accepting his scorn to caught in his secure embrace. He held her tight, crushed her close. His heartbeat pumped against her cheek. Heat, scented by his big body, wafted around her.

  Why did he want to comfort her now? He’d been so angry, on the verge of truest rage. What event could possibly inspire both emotions . . .

  Oh God.

  Thoughts and images raced through Gaby’s consciousness. Had Bliss . . . died?

  Bliss had shown a bad reaction to the drug used on her. People died from adverse drug reactions all the time. Who knew what had been injected into her, how much, or how toxic it might be?

  Just as Gaby started to collapse, Luther set her back from him. “She’s fine, Gaby.”

  She heard him, but after such numbing fear, she had a hard time grasping the truth. “You’re sure?”

  “As sure as I can be at the moment. I stayed with her until she was in the ambulance.”

  Gaby’s eyelids sank shut. Luther said she was fine. Hurt, certainly, but not expired as he’d made her think.

  Fury replaced the remorse, and Gaby slugged him in the ribs with enough force to repay him for that awful panic. “Thanks for scaring me half to death!”

  He barely grunted. “I can’t make any guarantees on how she fared after she reached the hospital, because I had to chase after you.”

  So now it was her fault that he was so nosy? “No,” Gaby said, “you didn’t.”

  “Yes,” Luther said, grabbing her shoulders and rattling her witless, “I did.”

  Being manhandled didn’t sit well with Gaby’s temper at the best of times. This sure as hell wasn’t the best of times. “Get your mitts off me right now.” She tried to shrug him away, but he didn’t budge.

  “Oh no you don’t, not this time.” Luther’s grip held her secure.

  “I’m warning you . . .”

  “You want a battle, Gaby?” He released her and stepped back. “Well, come on, lady. Bring it. I’m more than fucking ready.”

  Wow. Gaby eyed Luther up and down. Seeing that his temper was more frayed than her own, she no longer had any desire to pulverize him. “Did you drag me in here for a reason, or just to expend some anger?”

  Luther’s pointing finger nearly poked her in the nose. “We’re coming to an agreement, you and I, one you’ll abide by.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Damn straight it is, or so help me, I’ll—”

  “Arrest me, I know.” Gaby flapped a dismissive hand at him. His threats had never carried much weight, and right now, they meant less than nothing to her. “That’s your answer to every damn thing that happens, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll arrest you,” Luther confirmed, “and you won’t get a chance to visit with Bliss.” He stared her in the eyes, unrelenting, firm in his resolve. “How do you think that’ll make Bliss feel? Or do you even care how she feels?”

  Low blow. “Bastard,” she hissed.

  “Sticks and stones, Gaby.”

  Her biceps twitched with the urge to brain him. Just one solid sock, right in his handsome face. He might not be so appealing with a crooked nose.

  But no, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that. Even now with his fury boiling over and red-hot anger tingeing the outer perimeter of his aura, shades of pure altruism encompassed him.

  Luther epitomized all that was good and pure.

  She, on the other hand, epitomized the cold slam of justice. “So tell me the damn terms of this agreement, and make it fast, before I lose my good humor and flatten you.”

  Luther took a calming breath. “I want you to work with me on this, not on your own. That means that whatever you know, I want to know.”

  Huh. He wanted to play partners? Ridiculous. “And vice versa?”

  He surprised her by saying, “Yes.”

  Dropping back against the wall, her eyebrows raised, Gaby blinked at him. “No shit?”

  Running a hand through his hair, Luther paced away from her. For the first time, Gaby noticed his disheveled state. Wrinkles marred his untucked and sweat-stained shirt. Dirt splotched his slacks. He looked haggard and tired and fed up.

  Guilt gnawed on her. But what could she have done to make any of this easier
on him? She had her own hardships to deal with.

  “It sickened me,” Luther said, “to find Bliss in that shape, drugged and hurt and scared half to death.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I keep seeing that tortured corpse on the riverbank, knowing how badly the woman suffered.”

  “Me, too.”

  He caught Gaby in his gaze. “I know it’s going to happen again.”

  Gaby wasn’t a mind reader, but this time, she didn’t need to be. “Hold up a minute. You’re thinking it could happen to me?”

  “If you keep charging in without caution—”

  “I don’t do that, but even if I did, you don’t need to worry about me. It’s Bliss, and women like her—”

  “Like her?”

  “Helpless.” Ordinary. Normal. Real. Gaby choked down the damning words. “Women who, because of their lifestyles, are vulnerable to sick pervs like our guy who’s still running loose.” Because she’d failed.

  “If it’s a guy,” Luther pointed out. “Bliss was pretty confused about it all.”

  “She’ll be able to tell us more when she’s recovered.” Gaby was counting on it.

  “Maybe.” Luther waved that away. “But unless I stop it, we’re going to be finding more corpses.”

  “Yeah.” More likely, Gaby thought, she’d be the one to put an end to things, but she didn’t want to devalue Luther’s contribution, or his sincerity. “I take it you have something in mind?”

  “If we work together, me in my official capacity, you with your street information, we have a better chance to catch the guy responsible before anyone else gets hurt, or killed.”

  Hell no. Gaby’s eventual success depended largely on Luther staying unaware of the scope of her metaphysical, even supernatural, ability. But she couldn’t tell him that. “Sounds like a plan.”

  He straightened, moved closer to her again. “You said I didn’t trust you. Well, I’m going to trust your word that you’ll tell me everything you find out.”

  Shit. “Luther . . .”

  “I’ll trust you to be careful. I’ll trust you—but you have to trust me, too.”

  Damn it, did he have to drag her nonexistent integrity into this?

  A voice over the PA called for Detective Cross. Luther didn’t move. He waited, and Gaby, seeing so few choices, accepted his offer. “Fine.”