The Kindred s-3 Read online

  Ann put the car in park at the curb out in front of Luther’s house. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t need to. He knew what she thought. They’d been partners—and friends—too long for it to be any other way.

  “What will you do if she takes off again?”

  Staring out the wet windshield to the dark street, Luther shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “She’s involved, Luther. Again.”

  “I know that. But she’s not the one draining those poor bastards.”

  “I realize that. Gaby is many things, but she doesn’t hurt innocent people.”

  Luther’s muscles tensed. “She puts herself at risk all the damned time, trying to protect people.”

  “Yes, she does. But that doesn’t change anything. Her involvement puts you at risk, too, you know. She crosses the line—”

  “Our line, not hers.”

  Ann touched his arm. “Luther, our line is the one that matters. Whatever Gaby is, whatever her reasons for playing vigilante, she’s on the wrong side of the law.” Ann sat back. “And that’s a complication for me.”

  Turning only his head, Luther met her gaze. “What do you want from me, Ann?”

  “The truth.”

  “Fine. I think Gaby is . . . otherworldly. I think she sees and feels and understands things that we don’t.” Putting his head back and closing his eyes, Luther gave Ann what she wanted. “I don’t understand it. But I trust Gaby, as much, maybe more, than I’ve learned to trust you.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  His eyes opened again. “I’ve seen her . . . pick up on stuff. It affects her physically. And somehow, I swear to you, she just knows when shit happens.”

  It was Ann’s turn to look away. “Maybe she knows because she takes part in some way. No, I’m not saying Gaby is bad. I wouldn’t. There’s something about her . . . ”

  “The same something that draws you to Mort?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But only after his involvement with Gaby. I saw him before that, Ann, and I swear, you’d have felt nothing but pity for him.” He let out a long breath. “You’ve seen the change in Bliss, right?”

  Ann smiled. “She’s a darling girl. It breaks my heart to think of anyone abusing her. Somewhere she has a family who threw her away. Their loss.”

  “Bliss is bright and cheerful and she’s getting her life together—because of Gaby.”

  “How did they meet?”

  Luther smiled, though the first acknowledgment of the tale had filled him with rage, both at Gaby’s audacity and the danger she’d put herself in. “Gaby saw a guy abusing Bliss, and she stopped him.”

  “Dare I ask how?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing worse than what you’re already imagining. She sank her knife into his shoulder and then threatened to castrate him if he ever again hurt a woman.”

  “Wow.” Ann took a moment to assimilate that, then she, too, shrugged. “Effective.”

  “Gaby does what we’d like to do. And somehow she always gets away with it. But that particular time, she’d only happened onto the conflict. She hadn’t . . . ” He refused to say she hadn’t been summoned. “She didn’t have any intuition or anything. She was strolling with Mort and saw what was happening.”

  “Mort was in on this?”

  “If you haven’t already figured it out, Mort always covers for Gaby. They have a special bond of sorts.” Luther studied Ann. “And Mort is a better man for it.”

  “Maybe.” Ann flattened her mouth in consideration. “She does seem to inspire him to improve himself. Not that I approve of her methods—”

  “Insulting him with ease.”

  “Yes. But Mort cares deeply for her.” She tipped her head. “As do you.”

  No longer in denial, Luther just nodded. “As do I.”

  “So that brings us back around to where we started. How do you think you’re going to work a relationship with Gaby when you’re still a cop, and she gets on the wrong side of the law with alarming regularity?”

  Unwilling to share all of Gaby’s secrets, Luther didn’t mention his affect on her perception of evil. Gaby detested any form of softness or weakness, and she wouldn’t want others to know how his nearness blunted her ability to focus on malignant immorality.

  But if he could keep her near enough to him, if he could get her to trust him, then maybe they could work together. Gaby would point him in the right direction, and he would handle things for her—within the boundaries of the legal system.

  He said only, “I have a few ideas.”

  “That you won’t share?”

  “Not yet.” Time to quit stalling. Getting his sack of purchases from the floor of the car, Luther opened the door and got out. He didn’t want to acknowledge the dark windows and apparent emptiness of his house. “Just know that I’m on it, okay? I won’t let you get caught in the backlash, I promise.”

  Bending to see Luther through the open door, Ann huffed out a breath. “I’m here if you need me, Luther. I have a feeling that this is going to be an uphill battle all the way.”

  Luther knew she was right, just as he had known all day that Gaby wouldn’t be there when he returned.

  And still he’d held out hope.

  After checking the entire house and the backyard, he went in, slammed the door, and threw the bag on the kitchen counter. Purchases spilled out, including two videos and a boxed cell phone with extra charging cords.

  It was only eight o’clock. Not late, but later than he’d intended for his return. Had Gaby been here, and then left? Or had she been out and about, doing God only knew what, all day long?

  He’d called her at least a dozen times, but she hadn’t answered at the house, and she didn’t have a cell phone.

  That’s why he’d stopped on his way home and bought her one. She’d be pissed, but for him, it was like a leash, a way to stay in touch with her for his own peace of mind. If she liked it half as much as she liked the digital music player, she’d carry it with her always.

  The two popular horror movies had been an impulse buy. He figured they would entertain her.

  For certain, he wasn’t enough to do the job.

  His head hurt and his guts cramped. He needed to get a handle on himself before she got in.

  She would return tonight.

  She had to.

  He needed her to come back to him.

  Hands fisted, Luther went upstairs for a shower. When he saw the closed door to the room Gaby had commandeered, he hesitated.

  But if he so much as stuck a toe in there, she’d know it. Then what little headway he’d made would be shattered, and he’d have to start all over with her.

  Storming past the room, he went into his bedroom, threw off his clothes with an uncharacteristic lack of concern, and turned on the shower in the bathroom. The evening was cool enough that steam immediately fogged the air.

  Luther stepped under the spray, hoping it would help to dissipate his disgust.

  Praying it would help to ease the awful gnawing worry.

  A fucking bloodsucker.

  That’s what Gaby had claimed, and of course she was right—as always. Some sick fucks were playing vampire, preying on the innocent and . . .

  He squeezed his eyes shut. God, to even think it made him feel foul. He’d seen a lot in his lifetime, but now, knowing Gaby’s involvement, it all felt worse, more dangerous. Scarier.

  How could he keep her safe, from herself and her warped sense of duty, if she wouldn’t even give in enough to be at his house when he got home?

  Head back, Luther let the hot water pound on his skin, easing his cramped muscles but not doing shit for his oppressive mood.

  Come home, Gaby.

  But she didn’t miraculously appear.

  And Luther accepted that it was going to be a very long night.

  * * *

  Staying in the shadows, Gaby kept hidden until it was time for Sin Addictions to close. At nine o’clock, the daylight had long faded, aided
by the ominous storm clouds that skirted an eerie half-moon. The wretched chill in the air would bring gooseflesh to most, but not to Gaby.

  Her honed senses had fashioned a hermetic shield against mundane matters.

  This place was her only lead, the only clue she could follow. One way or another, she would protect the child that Bliss saw in her vision and that Gaby had produced in her novel.

  In a small, secret, pathetically wimpy and female part of her, she wished she had Luther with her. But that was an impossibility. His presence fucked with her instincts in a big way, and as much as she wanted him, she couldn’t risk that.

  She had to move forward with care. Demanding particulars on cannibalism would only alert the fruitcakes to her involvement. If that happened, they might scuttle off to places unknown, possibly out of her reach, to carry out their sick plans unhindered.

  She’d die before she let that happen.

  Her eyes burned as she stared at the shadows through the closed shades over the big front window. When the light in that room went out, Gaby slipped around to the back entrance. A young man came out, laughing at a comment said by someone unseen. He had tattoos everywhere, including his shaved head.

  He wasn’t the one Gaby wanted.

  She made no move to detain him as he got on a motorcycle and drove away.

  Hell of a night to be on a bike, Gaby thought, watching without concern as taillights faded into the foggy darkness and the rumble of the engine grew dim.

  Oblivious to the peril lurking, a young woman stepped out next. As she kept her back to the alley to lock the door, Gaby approached her. Standing only a few inches behind the woman, Gaby asked, “Anybody else inside?”

  The woman jumped and let out a small screech. Pivoting to face Gaby, a hand at her throat and her other arm laden with a large satchel, she took in Gaby’s looming proximity with barefaced terror. “Who are you? What do you want?”

  A shroud of bitter disappointment settled over Gaby.

  Accepting defeat—for now—she moved back a step. This woman had no audacity. At a very young age, Gaby had learned not to judge people by appearances.

  The rankest immorality could exist beneath the most angelic veneer, just as hideous, distorted features could conceal a heart of gold.

  Gaby rather admired this girl’s appearance. She decorated herself in a way designed to draw attention: ornate tattoos colored her throat, one shoulder, and her collarbone, while her pierced ears, eyebrows, and one nostril sported silver jewelry. Despite outward appearances, she carried a grayish blue aura of timidity, defensiveness, and fragility.

  “Who else works here?”

  The girl’s dark eyes blinked fast in a display of nervous fatalism. She expected abuse, but wasn’t used to it.

  Hugging her purse to herself, she tried to press backward into the locked door. She was so worried about surviving the moment, Gaby knew she wouldn’t lie.

  “There are five of us who take shifts. I do bookkeeping only, but we have two tattoo artists and two body-piercing specialists.”

  None of those hit a chord with Gaby. Even standing on a step below the girl, she looked her in the eyes. “Who else?”

  “There . . . there’s the owner, Fabian. It’s his shop.”

  Fabian. Gaby tasted the name in her mind, let it bring forth a vision, and knew he was the one she wanted.

  “When will Fabian work again?”

  Fear had the girl glancing left and right before offering a response. “He, uh . . . he’ll probably be in tomorrow. Usually midafternoon.”

  Gaby smiled. “You can tell him to expect me.”

  Breath expended, it took the girl a moment to realize the import of those words—that she’d have to live to relay the message. “Oh. Yes, yes, I will. I swear.”

  Taking a step back before her quarry fainted, Gaby asked, “One more thing.”

  Voice tremulous, she asked, “Yes?”

  Gaby pulled up a sleeve and dragged aside the bandage covering her wound. “How soon can I get a tattoo around this?”

  Chapter 6

  After stowing her car a few blocks away in an area unnoticed by most, Gaby started walking and found herself in front of Luther’s house. No way could she have parked her disreputable looking Ford Falcon amidst the middle-class family sedans visible in driveways and along the curb.

  Primer in key places, dents and scratches aplenty, led most to believe that the car was a junker. That ruse had allowed her occasional transportation to blend into the neighborhoods where she’d always lived.

  It wouldn’t blend in here.

  Hiding it nearby would have to suffice; if she needed the car, she could get to it fast.

  Now she had nothing more to do than to turn in for the night. But where?

  Undecided on her welcome, she gazed at Luther’s cozy, clean home, making note of the normalcy, the lived-in, welcoming feel of it. Yearning pulled at her, urging her forward. Sick at heart, she dug in and held back.

  Uncertainty was a new affliction for her, and she didn’t like it worth a damn.

  Trying for reason, she reminded herself that Luther had told her to return, had all but pleaded with her. But now . . . did he still feel the same?

  Had he heard about the drug dealers? If not, she’d have to tell him, and that would surely negate any hospitality he had extended.

  Darkness shrouded the house.

  Had Luther gone on to bed? Was he, even now, sound asleep?

  And did she, a paladin who fought evil without fear, have what it took to go in, climb those stairs, and disturb him from his rest?

  Gaby clenched her jaw, despising indecision as much as she did vulnerability.

  Maybe she should just curl up on the porch. God knew she’d slept in worse places. Then she and Luther could sort things out in the—

  Her thoughts shattered as the front door opened and Luther filled the space. He stared right at her as if he’d known, as if . . . he’d been watching and waiting for her.

  Gaby’s sharply inhaled breath burned her lungs.

  The sudden furious pounding of her heart made her sway.

  Even from the street, with only the faintest yellow glow of a streetlamp that barely reached him, she could see that Luther wore nothing more than unsnapped jeans. He didn’t shiver in the cold breeze that ruffled his already untidy hair.

  It didn’t take a paladin’s acute vision or limitless intuition to read his dark mood. Relief, rage, and something so much softer, all churned the bright aura limning his powerful, seductive, and comforting presence.

  For an indeterminate amount of time they remained that way, separated by space but connected just the same, each unwilling to make the first move. The longer Gaby delayed, the more she hurt. Not the pain of a devout calling, but pain from sharp need, a need she’d seldom experienced before Luther had forced his way into her melancholic life.

  A need she had long ago denied existed.

  “Fuck it.” Gaby took one step, then another. Her heartbeat and the racing of her pulse sent a cacophonous echoing through her brain. Each step grew harder, faster—and she saw an infinitesimal relaxing of Luther’s broad shoulders.

  The closer she got to him, the more she convinced herself that she had more reason to be disgruntled than he did.

  Hadn’t he left her high and dry earlier that day, after getting her all hot and bothered? Sure he had to work. She understood that.

  But knowing he might have to leave, he’d still gotten her primed to experience new depths of sensuality—and then he’d walked away from her.

  Because of her anger, he’d left her with a promise, a carnal tease about intimate matters to be completed.

  And, by God, she would demand he fulfill that promise tonight.

  Carried forward by resentment, Gaby bypassed the walkway and stomped over the dew-wet lawn. A stiff, cool breeze moved through the heavy branches of the trees in his front yard, shaking loose raindrops to dampen her hair and skin.

  Gaby didn�
�t feel the chill.

  Focused only on Luther, her gaze locked on his, she marched up the porch steps and to the open doorway where he waited with crossed arms and copious macho attitude.

  Close enough that their breaths mingled, she stopped. He stood there in austere inflexibility, his brown-eyed gaze locking onto hers with such strong, conflicted feeling that her knees went rubbery.

  Today, she had been forced to kill two beautiful animals.

  Today, she had seen misery in a young girl’s face and learned the intended fate of an innocent child.

  All in all, it’d been a super-sucky day.

  Gaby didn’t want Luther to start chastising her. She didn’t want to argue with him. The past few hours had been so fraught with fears and disappointments that she wanted only the unique, opulent contentment he could give.

  He didn’t reach for her, but so fucking what?

  She was used to taking matters into her own hands. And this time, she would do so . . . literally.

  * * *

  Luther felt every punching beat of his heart as forcefully as he felt Gaby’s resolve.

  But resolve to do what?

  His lungs labored for air, but a pressure on his chest kept the deep breath at bay.

  “I came home,” she told him with her chin in the air and a sour tone of accusation.

  His chest grew so tight that speaking proved impossible, so he only nodded.

  Then Gaby grabbed his crotch.

  That got his air moving in a strangling inhalation. His arms fell to his sides, his stomach knotted.

  She put her mouth to his throat. “No games, Luther. No lectures or long inquisition. I need you. I need everything you promised.” She bit him, but then soothed the sting of her sharp teeth with the damp stroke of her tongue. “In all my twenty-one years, you’re the only person who’s ever made me forget the ugliness.”

  Leaning back, she demanded from him with glittering blue eyes, her features already shifting in that anomalous and hotly appealing way of hers.

  “Help me forget, Luther. Right now.”

  A thousand thoughts rushed through his mind; with Gaby’s propensity for finding the goriest of evil, anything might have occurred. He needed to know details; he needed to talk with her.