The Acceptance s-2 Read online

  All she needed now was an ending, but she couldn’t write the ending until things . . . ended.

  Knowing what she would do to ensnare and extirpate the menace, she’d already depicted herself as a haphazard hooker who, as the graphic novel progressed, dealt harsh commination with grisly precision.

  Satisfied with her latest efforts, she sat back on her stool and stretched her cramped muscles. When she relaxed again, her eyes caught on her last sketch.

  Lush, colorful details were nonetheless menacing. Looking more closely at the scene of conflict between a looming, hyperbolized version of herself, and a bloodcurdling depictionof her nemesis, she saw Luther’s faint outline in the background.

  His usually compassionate eyes watched her with nocent intent.

  What the hell? Gaby picked up the page. She didn’t even recall putting him there. Even in her imagination, he intruded.

  Laying that page aside, she stood and picked up each visual for the novel. Like a dark, heralded sidekick, she found Luther’s form repeatedly interwoven into the story and graphics.

  Damn it. Somehow, regardless of how she tried to block him, he appeared on almost every page, sometimes advising, sometimes protecting, sometimes . . . enticing.

  And a few times, his presence served to portend her demise.

  Slapping the pages aside, needful of fresh air, Gaby stood and crossed to a window. Night had fallen with atramentous gravity, enshrouding the moon and stars, smothering the weak illumination of streetlamps and blinking neon bar signs.

  Pressing a fist to her chest, Gaby tried to deny the growing ache there, but the severity of it refused to be modified. Luther had no place in her novels.

  He had no place in her head or heart either.

  And yet, she couldn’t rid herself of him. Luther might believe her show of feigned indifference, but Gaby never lied to herself.

  He meant far too much to her.

  In her dreams, Luther emblematized a desperate craving for normalcy. For caring.

  And love.

  He was everything she wanted to be, but wasn’t.

  Well, except that Luther was all male, and given his preposterous attraction to her, she was thankful for the femaleness she’d often scorned.

  Leaving the window, Gaby went into the bathroom and did her best to scrub the ink stains from her fingers. She trimmed her nails, cleaned her teeth, combed her hair, inspected her rumpled clothing and, with a shrug, found her ankle boots. She stepped into them and left her room.

  On her way out, to the hookers who greeted her, Gaby said, “I’ll be working tonight, too, just so you know.”

  Betty paused in comical confusion. “Workin’ on what, sugar?”

  Gesturing down her own body with her hand, Gaby said, “You know. What you do.”

  Betty’s eyes widened. “The hell ya say.”

  Posy twittered a laugh, saw Gaby remained unsmiling, and coughed. “But, Gaby, you ain’t never . . . well, you know. You ain’t never done that.”

  Gaby examined a nail. “Yeah, so? How hard can it be?”

  Opal stepped in front of the other women. “What are you up to, girl?”

  “Don’t worry about it. We all know I’m not competition. But I have my reasons, so just tell me where I should stand.”

  “I won’t. Jimbo would skin me.”

  Rolling her eyes, Gaby surveyed them all. “None of you has reason to fear him. If he gives you any problems, just let me know.”

  “There’ll be problems, all right, if you traipse out there all set on sellin’ yourself.” Opal shook her head. “We’ll all catch hell, and that’s the truth.”

  “Fine. I’ll clear it with Jimbo first. Happy?”

  They all stared at her.

  Giving up, Gaby asked, “Where is he right now?”

  “Down the corner, takin’ care of some business.”

  The way Opal said that left Gaby leery. Jimbo did a lot of business: drugs, stolen goods, arms. But something in Opal’s tone didn’t sound right.

  Gaby put her hands on her hips. “What kind of business?”

  Opal clammed up. Posy looked to Betty, and tried to slip away.

  “Not another step.” Gaby closed in on them, and as one, they crowded back against the peeling wallpaper. She looked at them each in turn. “No one leaves until I know what’s going on.”

  Betty let out a long, aggrieved sigh. “It ain’t nothin’ for you to get involved in, Gaby.”

  “How about you let me make that decision, okay?”

  “But it’s the truth, you sometimes overreact,” Posy confided.

  “I won’t this time.”

  Opal snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m headin’ to sainthood.”

  The three of them guffawed.

  Gaby tapped the toe of her boot. Damn it, if she was going to carry through with this farce, and she was, despite her personal dread, then she wanted to get on with it. “If we stand here all night, none of you can work. Then how happy will Jimbo be?”

  That possibility stifled their humor. Another minute passed before finding results.

  “Oh, for Chrissake,” Posy blurted. “A john roughed up one of the girls. He paid extra for it, though, Gaby.” She wrung her hands. “You know some of ’em enjoy doing that sort of thing.”

  “It gets ’em off,” Opal added.

  Oh God. Gaby felt ill. While she’d been writing, a woman had been hurt. Damn her selfish need for expression. Of course, that type of abuse wasn’t the sort of thing that ignited her senses. She should have been on the street, where she’d have seen the trouble.

  Ice filled her veins. “How bad was she hurt?”

  The women shared a pained look. Posy said quietly, “He knocked one of her teeth out, left some welts on her back, and . . .”

  Opal cleared her throat. “He burned her a couple times with his cigarette.”

  Tension snapped Gaby’s back straight. For only a moment, her vision blurred. Honing her anger inward, she focused on retaliation. “Who was it?”

  “Marie.”

  Her heart squeezed. Poor old Marie. She was more mature than the others, heavier, homelier. Because of that, Jimbo often ridiculed her. She never made as much as the younger women, and often took the riskier propositions—with Jimbo’s blessing.

  This time, he’d be sorry for his lack of defense.

  Gaby nodded to the women. “Thanks for telling me. Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

  Opal grabbed her arm, but whatever she felt had her snatching back her hand with alacrity. She blinked twice before getting the words out. “Gaby, please. We don’t need no more trouble.”

  “He’s payin’ Jimbo extra for the problems he caused,” Posy offered.

  Sick bastard. Fuck that.

  Gaby felt no deep calling, so he wasn’t the one who’d killed Lucy and tried to take Bliss.

  But for now, he’d do.

  “Yeah, he’ll pay,” Gaby agreed. “Now all of you, get to work before Jimbo suspects you of ratting to me.”

  And just like that, they scattered, leaving Gaby alone on the steps.

  She couldn’t butcher the man, although she wanted to, although she could. Not out of pleasure, but out of justice. Some people didn’t deserve to take up space on Earth.

  Anyone who would abuse a woman, even a woman for sale, fit the category of unworthy.

  Sex was one thing. Physical maltreatment was something else entirely.

  Under burning intendment, Gaby went down the flight of stairs, out the front door, and to the walkway. Even the blackness of the night couldn’t conceal Jimbo’s loathsome dealings. Gaby saw him a block up, with another man, and a cowering woman.

  Marie.

  She didn’t realize she’d moved until she found herself a mere yard from the men.

  “How can she work like that?” Jimbo demanded. “It’ll be two days before those burns heal.”

  “I ain’t paying you more’n that,” the man raged. “Fifty bucks extra is compensation enough f
or the likes of her.”

  Under implied threat, Jimbo scowled at him. “Well I say it isn’t.”

  Gaby strode into the middle of the fray. “For once, Jimbo, we’re in agreement.”

  All eyes turned to her. Marie’s poor face sported multiple bruises. Her lips were bloodied. On her neck, a small round burn, haloed by inflamed red flesh, still oozed. Dried blood encrusted her swollen nose. Her hair hung in matted tangles. Torn clothes barely kept her covered.

  Gaby inhaled a slow, steadying breath—and it didn’t help. Not one iota.

  Anxious to dissuade her of involvement, Jimbo snarled. “Butt out, Gaby.”

  He was as insignificant as a gnat—so Gaby ignored him. “Where else are you burned, Marie?”

  Quivering all over, Marie said, “I’m . . . I’m okay, Gaby.”

  “Show me.”

  Marie sent a nervous glance toward the two towering men.

  Gaby hardened her resolve. “Show me now.”

  Cringing, Marie lifted her torn blouse to display a worse, deeper burn on her ribs, right below her left breast. Bruises and welts surrounded that wound.

  Fierce rage fulgurated.

  Rock-steady, primed to contravene the sight of mistreatment, Gaby turned to the man. “You hurt her pretty damn bad.”

  Beefy in the way of a street brute, he stood at least five inches taller than Gaby. Thick brown hair hung over his ears, and bright green eyes twinkled with mirth. “She’s a whore, so what do you care?”

  Tipping her head to the side, Gaby smiled.

  Jimbo sucked in air. “Oh shit.” He rushed closer. “God damn it, Gaby,” he hissed low, “I’m warning you—”

  Without looking at him, Gaby struck out with her elbow, and hit Jimbo square in the nose.

  He exploded, cursing, stomping, threatening her with evil retribution that they both knew carried no weight, not against her.

  Gaby spared him a glance. “You let this happen, Jimbo. For all you know, he could be the same perverted asshole who murdered Lucy.”

  The man snorted. “What are you talking about? I ain’t murdered no one.”

  Holding his bleeding nose, Jimbo frowned at Gaby. “Well, he’s not, now is he?”

  “No, he’s not. But you didn’t know that, and you did squat to stop him. Far as I’m concerned, that makes you as guilty as him.”

  Trying to sound reasonable, Jimbo explained, “I wasn’t there, bitch, so how could I have stopped him? And if you’d stop nosing in, you’d see that I’m trying to settle it with him right now.”

  “Oh no.” Gaby shook her head. “You’re trying to compensate off Marie’s pain. That’s not the same thing.”

  Desperate, Jimbo grabbed her arm and spoke low. “Money is the only thing most people understand. If it costs him, he’ll be less inclined to ever do it again.”

  Realization struck Gaby. Huh. Maybe Jimbo wasn’t as inhuman as she’d always thought. “Okay, so you get an A for effort.”

  “Hallelujah.”

  “But this time,” she continued, “the cost of money isn’t near enough.”

  Shaking with his anger, Jimbo tried to take her attention off the man. “It’s none of your damn business, Gaby.”

  Slowly, Gaby looked down at his hand on her arm, then into his eyes. “I’d suggest you back off, Jimbo, and let me do my thing. I’m done playing with you right now, and if you don’t let me vent where I most want to, I’m going to vent on you next.”

  Just that quick, he released her. Exasperated, he threw up his arms, turned his back on her, and marched a few— safer—feet away.

  The man in front of Gaby roared with hilarity. “I’ll be damned. He’s afraid of you, ain’t he?”

  Just below the surface, Gaby’s savage temper bared its teeth. “He’s not as stupid as he looks.”

  The man continued to chuckle. “Little sis, you sure talk a long line of shit, I’ll give you that. But I wonder if you can—”

  Gaby struck out hard and fast, using the heel of her palm to punch him in the throat. With his larynx traumatized, he gargled and choked, reeling back in utter shock. While he remained off balance, she landed a solid, dead-on kick of her boot heel against his head.

  The blow felled him and, dazed, he dropped to the side. But he was a hardy one, and after a second of choking, he shook his head to clear it. In slow motion, he lifted his bruising face to glare up at her. “Just who the hell are you?”

  “Tonight,” Gaby told him as she advanced, “I’m vengeance. And that, you sadistic pervert, makes me your worst fucking nightmare.”

  Issuing a roar, the man lumbered back to his feet and charged her.

  Braced for the attack, Gaby went with the impact of his brawny body, rolled to her back, and kicked him away in one adroit move. It never even dawned on her to draw her knife. She needed physical release, and this was as close as she’d get.

  Gutting him would end things too soon. She’d rather beat the shit out of him.

  And so she did.

  While he tried to get back to his feet, bracing up on one arm, Gaby kicked out his elbow. It snapped, and a splintered section of bone sliced through the skin. Blood poured out. The man screamed in agony.

  In glacial hostility, Gaby stepped over him. “Get up, you pussy.”

  Sweat bathed his face as he lolled to the side in agony. “You broke my fucking arm, you crazy cunt.”

  Again making use of the heels on her boots, she stomped his solar plexus. “Sticks and stones, buddy. Now stand up.”

  It took him a minute, but he got awkwardly to his feet. Holding his arm, he snarled at her. “If my arm wasn’t broke—”

  “What?” Gaby taunted. She folded her arms behind her back. “Now we’re on even ground.” And so saying, she kicked his thigh, almost buckling his leg. Before he could recover his balance, she kicked his knee, and he went back down again.

  Screaming at the pain it caused his broken arm, he curled into himself.

  Heaving, Gaby kept her pose, arms behind her. “I’m not done.”

  Horrified, he looked at Gaby. “What the hell do you want? I can’t fight. I can’t do anything.”

  “Wanna bet?” She stomped his ankle, wrenching another raw scream from him. He had powerful lungs, and soon a large group of local denizens converged to watch the entertainment. Gaby paid them no mind. “Get up, or I’ll break your jaw.”

  Tucking his uninjured arm over his face, he cringed tight. “I can’t, I tell you.”

  Her fury made that unsatisfactory. “Stand up or so help me, I’ll destroy you where you are.”

  He tried, she’d give him that. But while he was still on his knees, shaking badly, white as a ghost, Gaby accepted that he’d be no challenge now.

  Disgusted, she put her boot to his face and shoved him back down. He sank backward, and she delivered one last debilitating blow to his nuts.

  Maybe that, more than anything, would encourage him to think twice before hurting another woman.

  “Jesus.” Jimbo dared to muscle his way in front of her. “Stop already. You’re going to kill him.”

  Redirecting her wrath, Gaby fired on Jimbo. “And you fucking care? After what he did to Marie?”

  Jimbo backpedaled.

  Shaking all over, Gaby looked at the fallen man, at the blood splayed around him, his battered face and cowered position—and it didn’t help. Not even a little.

  Softer now, her voice strained, she asked of no one in particular, “Do you really think I should fucking care?”

  Marie touched her shoulder, and flinched when Gaby whirled to face her.

  Through swollen lips, Marie tried a tremulous smile. “Thank you, Gaby. I’m okay now. I promise. You did more’n enough.”

  Unseeing, heaving in her anger, Gaby put her head back and howled like a wild animal until her lungs hurt and her throat felt raw.

  Why? Why did it not help?

  But she knew. This pathetic excuse for a human being was only a poor substitute for her real target. God
hadn’t even bothered to direct her to his misdeeds. What he had done, others did every day to women.

  But that changed nothing.

  Just like the guy who’d tortured Lucy, he deserved nothing less than death, but . . . Gaby turned away from him and went to Jimbo.

  Again he backed up, then caught himself and withdrew a knife.

  Gaby kicked it out of his hand without even thinking about it. “Ever pull a knife on me again, and you’ll regret it, Jimbo, do you understand?”

  Red-faced and rigid, he refused to reply.

  Gaby bumped her chest into his, so close that she breathed in his foul air, and smelled his acidic fear. “From now on, there will be no corrupt deviants who take pleasure in causing pain. You got that?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Does that include you?”

  Struck, Gaby locked her jaw.

  Sensing that he’d hit a nerve, Jimbo pushed into her, backing her up a few steps. “Cuz bitch, it sure looked to me like you enjoyed yourself.”

  “Shut up.”

  Jimbo laughed. “I gotta tell ya, Gaby, I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen you smile.”

  The truth of that pierced Gaby, hurting her and leaving her sickened. She never had much reason for smiling—but taking on a sadist . . . yeah, that gave her pleasure.

  She looked Jimbo dead in the eyes. “Maybe you should take that as a warning, huh?”

  “Yeah, sure.” He shoved his way around her and went to the man on the ground. “Now who the hell is going to take care of this?”

  “I can have a cop here in two minutes.” Just to piss off Jimbo, she fashioned another smile out of her starched lips. “Will that make you happy?”

  “Fuck no.” He turned to Marie, looked her over with a frown. “Go fetch a few of the ladies. Get them up here real quick.” As she started to go, he stopped her with a hold on her arm. Ill at ease, he frowned some more before saying, “After you send them here, go on to your room and soak in the tub or something.”

  Surprised, Marie nodded. “Okay, Jimbo.”

  Awkward, Jimbo still hesitated. He dropped her arm and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, if you think you need a doctor or something . . .”

  “I don’t.”