The Acceptance

Chapter 8

Tonight, one way or another, Luther knew he had to get some answers. Women’s lives were on the line, and somehow Gaby was involved.

He didn’t know how, but he knew he had to keep her safe—whether she wanted his help or not.

Gaby kept her back to him, but she paused.

Luther didn’t push her. He just waited, and after a moment of visibly churning thoughts, she said, “I’ve heard that most cops have intuition. Do you?”

It wasn’t what he’d expected, but the answer was easy enough. “Sometimes.”

Rubbing the back of her neck and flexing her shoulders, Gaby considered his response. “Sometimes, huh?”

“It’s not the same as what you’re saying, Gaby. I get a bad feeling, but I don’t see things clearly. They aren’t spelled out for me.”

“No, of course not.” Glancing over her shoulder at him, Gaby said, “But do you get that kick in your gut, that churning sensation in your blood when you just know something is wrong?”

Damn it, he did. But not the way it seemed she had.

Her light blue eyes pinned him. “Do you trust your instincts?”

No need to hesitate on that one. “Yes.” Luther had never ignored his own instincts. They were sharper than most, which is why he made a damn good cop.

His instincts insisted that Gaby was up to something. If only he knew what.

“Well, so do I,” she told him. “You want the truth, Luther? Fine. I knew something was wrong.” She emphasized, “Something. Not that it involved Bliss, and not what it might be.”

Luther could usually spot a liar, but with Gaby . . . he just didn’t know. She appeared truthful, sincere.

Believable.

A small part of his subconscious insisted that the mentally insane often used sound logic as well.

No. He wouldn’t think that. Gaby was, despite her upbringing and lack of formal education, more intelligent and lucid than almost anyone he knew. It was her astute perception of her surroundings that colored everything.

“My stomach cramped and my muscles burned and everything that’s a part of me screamed that I had to hurry.” Gaby didn’t blink. “So I did.”

What she described matched the way she’d looked. And that scared him. For her. “Does that happen to you often?”

“Often enough that I hate it.” She started walking again, but the burst of energy was gone, leaving her to plod along tiredly. “But not often enough for me to make a real difference in anything.”

What the hell did that mean? Why would Gaby, an orphan, an eccentric loner, want to make a difference to the society she so openly scorned?

Seeing the droop to her normally proud shoulders, Luther decided not to ask her, not right now. He’d pushed enough for one night. Although he knew she’d deny it, she looked exhausted enough to keel over.

“We both need sleep.” Luther slipped an arm around her supple waist. “Come on. Stewing over this won’t help Bliss. The hospital staff will keep her safe tonight, and tomorrow, we’ll come back to see her to Mort’s together. She’ll be fine.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Gaby said nothing on the way out of the hospital. That worried Luther. He was used to her mouthy ways, her caustic wit, and her never-ending harassment.

She was likely plotting, maybe not against him, specifically, but for certain she wasn’t including him, as per their agreement.

“Listen up, Gaby.” When she turned tired eyes toward him, Luther almost softened. Only the need to know she’d be unharmed kept him from retrenching. “I’m going to drop you off at your apartment, and I damn well expect you to stay there.”

She looked away. “I don’t have any plans to leave.”

“Then how about making plans to stay?”

She shrugged. “I watch over the women, Luther. Some of them work throughout the night. If something happens—”

“You’d know it?”

“Maybe. But not necessarily.”

Luther still wasn’t sure about her supposed exceptional intuition, but he wouldn’t discount it. Throughout his career as a cop, he’d seen a lot of inexplicable things, and too many times his instincts had saved his ass. If Gaby had those same instincts, only amplified to an extreme level, then that would explain a lot.

And maybe he was just grasping at straws, wanting to trust her, to believe in her, in any way possible.

While heading across the parking lot, she moved closer. Her hand bumped Luther’s, so he laced his fingers with hers.

The lot was quiet, dark. A fat silvery moon was poised low in the sky, surrounded by a million illumined stars.

It could have been a romantic night. From Luther’s perspective, any time alone with Gaby lent itself to sexual thoughts tempered by emotional need.

She brought out the extremes in him. He couldn’t understand it, and he couldn’t fight it.

They’d almost reached his car at the farthest end of the lot when she said, “Most of the johns can be cruel, you know. They hurt the women just because they can. They’re mean, nasty, and sometimes they cross the line. But they’re not necessarily evil, just wretched human beings.”

So her intuition didn’t allow for mundane, ordinary, everyday evil? Realizing his own thoughts, Luther shook his head. He’d believe in her—to a point. But he wasn’t ready to buy in hook, line, and sinker.

He decided she needed a little clarification on her observations. “Men who pay for sex are not the best of men, Gaby. Don’t judge everyone by them.”

“I wouldn’t.” At his car, she circled around to the passenger’s side, then stopped and turned to face him. “But I can’t judge all men by you, either.”

Luther told himself to get in the car, to take her to her room so she could get the rest she needed. But his feet wouldn’t budge. There was a magnetic pull to Gaby, and he always felt helpless against it.

They stood in shadows, the chill evening air still around them.

She tipped her head and looked . . . around him. “You’re aroused,” she said.

Like a moth light-struck in her glow, Luther braced his hands on the car around her, caging her in. “You think so, do you?”

Totally relaxed and almost sleepy, Gaby rested against the car. Her expression never changed as she nodded. “I see your aura, so I know you are.”

“Ah. Yeah, I’d almost forgotten.” Many times now, Gaby had commented on auras—always, for him, in a complimentary way.

“Your raw energy is really dancing, Luther. It’s shimmering around you, all excited and jittery and warm.”

Damn. She seduced him, destroyed his better intentions, without even trying. “It’s been established, honey, that I always want you.”

Not one for shyness, Gaby stared into his eyes. “It’s pretty frustrating for me. I don’t want to have sex with you. Hell, I’m still not entirely sure I understand the lure of sex. If you want the truth, what I’ve seen is interesting, but also a little disgusting.”

“What you’ve seen is the dregs of society copulating.” Luther couldn’t keep his gaze off her small breasts. “That’s nothing like a man and woman making love.”

“Oh please. Don’t even mention love. I don’t know what it is, don’t even believe in it, and it sure as hell has nothing to do with a man sticking his dick into a woman until he grunts and moans.”

Luther pulled back. Damn it, her coarse ways weren’t new to him. But her porn-star descriptions still had the power to shock him clean down to his toes.

She rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I can see I said too much. My point is that I want something, but I’m not sure what, and it’s all pretty damned confusing and annoying and I don’t like losing sleep over it.”

An idea came to Luther.

A horrible, wonderful, masochistic idea. His heart thumped; his dick got hard. He licked his lips, leaned in a little closer, and said, “How about I prove a point to you, Gaby? We won’t have intercourse, since you say you aren’t ready. But . . .”

Her brows knit together. “But what? What are you thinking?”

To regain his calm, Luther closed his eyes for just a moment. It didn’t help. His plans became visual, and he saw Gaby, what he wanted to do to her, what he eventually planned to do to her.

And the end result: Her blue eyes glazed with amazement, her body warm and fluid and . . . wet.

Shit. He had it bad, no denying that.

When Luther opened his eyes it was to take a quick look around the empty parking lot while he considered their isolated position. Even if someone did show up at this ungodly hour, his car would block any view of them, of what he’d be doing to her.

He inhaled, girding himself.

“Oh for crying out loud!” Gaby exploded. “Are you planning a murder or worse? What the hell are you up to, cop?”

In response, Luther put his fingertips on the inside of her right knee.

Her eyes widened.

“I can ease your frustration, Gaby. I can make you feel things you didn’t know existed.” As he spoke, he trailed his fingertips higher—under the edge of her skirt, and up to the elastic leg band of her panties.

The cotton was soft, but unadorned—like Gaby. But then, what else would he expect her to wear? Lace? Silk? Not likely.

She held herself perfectly still, watching his face the way a trapped mouse would watch a cat.

“You already feel it, don’t you, honey?”

She swallowed, lifted her chin. “Maybe.”

Yeah, she felt it. His chest expanded with satisfaction— and his body hurt with lust. “Put your arms around my neck.”

With a surprising eagerness, Gaby did as he instructed. Luther kept his right hand between her legs, and with his left, tipped her face up more to accommodate a devouring kiss. She stood only three inches shorter than him, and he knew her to be a very capable woman.

But now, right this moment, she felt fragile and very delicate. Her compliance filled him with steam. With their mouths melded together, her tongue came out to mate with his, urging him on, easing the way for his lesson.

Against her lips, Luther said, “Men who care about women don’t just rut with them. They take the time to enjoy them. I’m going to enjoy you a little, Gaby.”

“Yeah, okay.” She closed the small space between their lips with an insistent kiss.

So eager.

And so easy to sway when aroused.

It was a novel thing to have Gaby in an agreeable mood. He liked it. But then, he liked her even when she was contrary and antagonistic. At times, Luther felt that if he didn’t have her, he’d go mad with the wanting.

When his hand cupped her small breast, she started and pulled her mouth away.

Their gazes met. Watching her, Luther skimmed his thumb over her tightly beaded nipple.

Her breath caught. “What are you doing?”

“Enjoying you.”

Her lips parted and her eyelids went heavy. “Why . . . why does that feel so good?”

Oh God, it was the sweetest torture. “Because you’re enjoying me, too.”

Leaning into his hand, she said again, “Okay.”

Against his wrist, Luther felt the static beat of her heart. Her flesh was soft, her nipple supple. She had sensitive breasts. He liked that. A lot.

After playing with both breasts, tweaking, tugging on her nipples, Luther cupped his other hand over her crotch.

She shot to her tiptoes in surprise.

“Shhh.” Taking her mouth to silence her, to share with her, Luther began stroking. His touch was light and easy, teasing, over the now damp cotton of her panties.

Gaby panted, her breath coming fast and harsh. Her strong fingers sank into his shoulder muscles, almost to the point of pain, definitely with demand. She rocked her hips once, then stilled herself.

“No,” Luther whispered, “don’t stop. Move as you want to move, Gaby. It’ll make it even nicer for you.”

“I don’t know about this.”

“I do.”

Her hands clutched at him. “I feel like a wire being tightened.”

Luther bit her bottom lip, her chin, her throat as he made his way down to her chest. By her nipple, he said, “I want you pulled so tight, you snap.” And then he drew her nipple into his mouth.

She cried out, curled herself around him, moaned.

No reserve for Gaby. In this, she couldn’t be more honest.

“Lift your shirt for me, Gaby.” As he said it, Luther worked his hand up and over into the waistband of her panties. He felt her soft pubic curls, her hot flesh.

She didn’t move and he raised his face to look at her.

From the time he’d known Gabrielle Cody, he’d noticed some affliction that altered her appearance through strong emotion.

Now her blue eyes were diamond bright, somehow more catlike in shape, very exotic. Her cheekbones looked sharper, her mouth more lush.

She looked like Gaby, but different, and she was sexy as hell.

Holding her gaze captive, Luther parted her slick lips by gliding two fingers back and forth, back and forth.

Her expression constricted even more.

Slick moisture bathed his fingers.

Luther gently opened her, and with inexorable pressure, worked both fingers into her. She was small, but he couldn’t imagine Gaby ever taking half measures.

She’d want to be filled.

And he wanted to fill her.

Her virgin flesh stretched, and he felt the strain of her entire body.

A sharp breath parted her lips. A mix of pain and pleasure made her eyes flare.

“You are so damn tight,” he murmured, turned on by the knowledge of being the first to do this to her.

The first to do everything with her, wanting to be the only man to ever—no.

He wouldn’t allow himself to think that way. Not now, not with so many unanswered questions. Not while she remained such an enigma.

As Luther pressed his fingers deeper into her, her eyelids drooped—and she lifted her shirt.

Needing no more invitation than that, he lowered his head and drew one taut nipple into his mouth. Her fingers sank into his hair, holding him to her. Heat, scented by her heightened desire, filled the air.

Luther switched to the other nipple, nipping with his teeth, tugging till she moaned and then lathing with his tongue to soothe her.

Just as she relaxed, he closed his mouth around her again and sucked hard.

A tearing groan escaped her. Her body stiffened, and knowing she was close, he brought his thumb up to her distended clitoris. Pressing, fretting her most sensitive flesh with a delicious friction, Luther pushed her—and far too quickly, she came.

Thank God they were alone in the big lot, given her savage scream. Her short nails drew blood on his shoulders. Her strong muscles clenched, quivered, then went lax.

Damn. He’d known it from the moment he saw her, how explosive she’d be, how unique and special and mind-blowing.

He couldn’t wait to be inside her, to share that pleasure with her. But for now, he’d have to.

Gaby was so limp, in another second she’d be sleeping.

With her most immediate problem resolved, he needed to get back on track.

Now the real fireworks would begin.

Resting the side of her face on his shoulder, letting him support her weight, Gaby yawned. Man, oh man. Talk about taking the stress away. She felt so lethargic, more than anything, she wanted her bed.

Luther’s hand moved up and down her back, comforting, intimate.

They’d just shared something monumental. She knew it, but she didn’t have the energy to react to it.

Yet.

In a minute, she’d figure out what she needed to do to reciprocate. She wanted Luther to feel what she’d just felt.

Oh sure, she knew he’d done that plenty of times. The man had surely practiced to be so good at it. But she wanted him to feel it with her.

She yawned again, nuzzled closer to his big, hard chest, and wondered how he’d feel in her hands, if it’d be the same for him.

“You still awake?” Luther asked her.

“Mmm. I just need a minute.” Or five or ten.

He kissed her temple. “I can pick you up tomorrow. We’ll have breakfast, talk, and then visit Bliss again. She should be dismissed early.”

Was he nuts? Held upright by the constriction of his strong arms around her, Gaby lifted her head to stare at him.

Oh, he was ripe with sensation, his aura so bright and molten it was a wonder they weren’t both singed.

When he only smoothed her hair, she asked, “What about you?”

“What about me?” He kissed her mouth, smiled like a conqueror. He even touched the end of her nose. “I got what I wanted.”

He had to be kidding. “So what was it you wanted?” The repletion of muscles and sinew kept her loose and limp. Gaby struggled to stiffen her knees.

This confrontation demanded a little strength on her part, not Jell-O limbs.

“I wanted you to see that it’s not always about men stickingt heir dicks in women. For men who pay to get their rocks off, sure, that might be it. But between us—”

“There’s an us?” Stupid question. He’d just rocked her entire world in a very big way.

And it had only taken him a few minutes.

In a parking lot.

Out in the open.

He squeezed her bottom and said, “Whether you want to admit it or not, yeah, there is. Eventually, I’ll be on top of you, Gaby. I’ll be inside you—and I don’t mean my fingers either.”

Because she suspected it’d put a stop to his cocky assurances of what sounded vaguely like domination to her, Gaby cupped her hand over his crotch.

Sure enough, he went mute, still, even pained. His gaze froze as he stared at her, held in suspense, unsure what she’d do, and probably hoping she’d do it.

Gaby almost smiled over the feeling of power.

A different type of power from what she was used to.

A more satisfying type of power.

“This,” she told him, squeezing a little, measuring the length of his cock by slowly stroking base to tip and back again, “is noticeably bigger than two fingers. I’m not sure it’d work.”

Muscles tensed and voice rough, Luther said, “I know I hurt you—”

“Ha. Let me tell you something, Luther. That wasn’t pain. Not even close. In fact . . .” While keeping him captive in her hand, Gaby let loose a wide-jawed yawn. “It was relaxing.”

He closed his eyes against a private struggle. “Trust me, honey, when it happens, you’re going to love it.”

“More than I enjoyed that?” She wouldn’t use the “L” word in any context, so he could forget it.

His big hand covered hers, but not to move her hand away. He pressed her closer. “How much did you enjoy it?”

“You want honesty, right?”

Disquiet nudged aside the sexual voracity on his face. “Always.”

She inhaled, then exhaled long and slow. “I’m familiar with pain, ya know? It’s a part of my daily life, coming and going in varying degrees, emotionally and physically.”

“Gaby.” He touched his forehead to hers.

A lump formed in Gaby’s throat, and she had one hell of a time swallowing. “What you just gave to me . . . well, it’s startling because I didn’t know anything could feel like that. For a split second of time, I don’t think I was aware of anything other than what I felt.”

“That bothers you?”

“It makes me vulnerable.”

“Not when you’re with me. Never with me.” He pulled her hand away and enclosed her in his arms. “When you’re with me, you’re always safe.”

Gaby didn’t tell him how absurdly naïve he had to be to believe such a thing. Truth was, Luther was safer with her, not the other way around.

But she supposed a big macho cop who’d just given a woman that kind of pleasure really didn’t want to hear reality.

He kissed her ear. “I can tell you don’t believe me, and that’s okay, because I can’t convince you right now. We need time enough and place proper to get naked and be at our leisure. Then you’ll truly see what I mean.” He smoothed her hair. “But until then, don’t judge all men by the fools using prostitutes, and don’t go frustrated, now that you know I can help.”

Gaby eyed him up and down. Just what the hell was he offering? “So when I need you, there you are?” She snapped her fingers. “Ready and willing?”

“Don’t push it, woman.” His smile took the insult out of his warning. Tugging her away from the car, he opened the car door and gestured for her to get in. “Time for us to go.”

In a stupor of newfound information and physical repletion, Gaby dropped inside.

When Luther got behind the wheel, he said again, “I’ll pick you up for breakfast tomorrow morning. Is eight good for you?”

Time frames didn’t mean the same to her as they did to ordinary people. Unlike most of society, she didn’t feel the need to keep regular hours. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what regular hours might be.

Sure, she knew that people wanted to be awake with the sun, and to sleep with the moon. But for her, life wasn’t that simple. Immorality erupted with an eternity of determination. For evil, the clock didn’t tick, the sun didn’t set.

For evil, there was no respite.

For one who fought evil, the same rules applied.

Gaby had adjusted by waking when she woke, acting when necessary, and sleeping when her conscience, and God, allowed.

“Gaby?” Luther pressed. “Is eight o’clock good for you?”

Shaking off the morbid substantiality of her existence, Gaby made a face. “I’m not a big eater, as you can tell by my prominent bones.”

“I like your bones.” He winked at her. “But you could stand to gain a little weight.”

“Yeah, well, since leaving Mort’s, breakfast has been way down there on my list of things to do.”

“We can change that—starting tomorrow.”

“We’ll see.” She looked back at the tall brick structure, well lit but still dreary. With the taint of Gaby’s discordant memories, the hospital looked more like a gnarled head-stone than a place of sanctuary. “I hate hospitals.”

“I know, but she’ll be safe here. They’ll take care of her.”

Gaby shook her head. “I don’t know, Luther. It doesn’t seem right to let her out of my sight. I have a very bad feeling about all this.”

When Luther stared at her for an extended time, Gaby turned to him and said, “What?”

“You really think something will happen to her here?”

She shrugged. “I think something can happen to her here. That’s enough for me.”

After another second of contemplation, he nodded. “All right then.” To Gaby’s surprise, Luther pulled out his cell and put in a call, requesting a uniformed cop to stand watch.

He’d taken her concerns seriously?

Another first for her, and just as satisfying as what he’d done to her with his fingers.

“Someone will be here within five minutes.” Luther dug out a card and held it toward her. “I hope that puts you more at ease.”

She eyed the card, but didn’t take it. “It helps.”

Exasperated, Luther lifted her hand, pressed the card to her palm, and folded her fingers around it. “Promise me that if the bad feeling sticks with you, you’ll call me.”

Studying the card, Gaby read Luther’s name, his phone numbers. “If someone’s already watching over her, then why would I call and bother you?”

He didn’t laugh at her. “It’s what friends do, Gaby. They lean on each other in times of worry.”

Friends.

Yeah, she was collecting them like cooties these days.

She could deal with it now, but somehow she figured that she and Luther were more than friends. What, she couldn’t say. But even before her sexual instruction, she’d accepted that being with him was not the same as being with Morty or Bliss.

Headlights cut through the dark night, and a car pulled into the parking lot. Luther went on alert, watching the car but also studying the rest of the lot. Gaby did the same, unwilling to let a distraction with one car cause distraction over a bigger concern.

The car parked, the driver got out, and with a single click that sounded a beep and flashed his lights, locked the BMW. He’d parked in the doctor’s section, and hurried inside.

Dismissing him as a threat, Luther’s keen gaze studied the rest of the surrounding area.

Gaby didn’t tell him that no enmity lurked. If it did, she’d know it. “I hate to break this to you, cop, but I don’t have a phone.”

Settling back in his seat, Luther made a face of long-suffering acceptance. “Course you don’t. Why would I think you did?”

“I don’t know. You’re strange that way.” Another car pulled in, this one a police cruiser. “Who would I call, anyway?”

Luther waited until he saw a uniformed officer get out and enter the building. “Want to go in and make sure he’s set up?”

“No need.” Tiredness pulled at Gaby, and she wanted to drop. While the evil rested, she needed to rest, too—because it wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Again, Luther believed in her. He started the car and pulled out of the hospital parking lot onto the deserted streets. On the drive back to her room, he said very little.

For her part, Gaby dozed in her seat, rethinking what Luther had done to her, and how easy it had been for him. When he pulled up in front of the building, she unfastened her seat belt, anxious to be alone.

Luther reached over and caught her arm. “You should know, Gaby, the women have been warned of a problem.”

She accepted that—and how futile such a warning would be. “It won’t stop them from doing what they do. It’s how they survive.”

“It could be how they die.”

“I know.” Just because she wanted to, because she needed to, Gaby leaned across the seat and kissed him. “They don’t have any choice, though.”

“I know.” He touched her cheek with a heartbreaking intimacy. “I’m determined to do my best to figure this out, and fast. Until then, please be careful.”

If he didn’t stop fretting over her, she was going to start liking it. And then where would she be? “I keep telling you, cop, you don’t have to worry about me.”

He pulled her in for one more taste, and Gaby’s toes curled inside her boots. “I’m trying.”

“Breakfast,” she reminded him, just to change the subject. “I’ll see you then.”

Gaby left the car and strode up to the building. Dawn would break all too soon, and still a few women stood outside, washed out, tired, and working toward their quota.

By way of a greeting, they made a few lewd comments about Luther. Amused, Gaby looked back, and Luther still waited, wanting to see her inside.

Bizarre.

Unnecessary.

But damn if it didn’t rekindle that odd tingling deep in her belly.

Anticipating breakfast with him in the morning, she went up the stairs—and then it struck her what an idiotic fool she’d become.

For whatever anomaly of circumstances might exist, being with Luther had always desensitized her faculties, depriving her awareness of a necessary superiority. For a single moment of time, Gaby gave in to cowardly panic, wondering if, in fact, Bliss was safe, or if Luther’s presence had blunted her ability to know the truth.

Opening locks with haste, she went into her apartment and to the window to look out.

Luther was gone—and still she felt no discernment of foul play. Her relief, on top of so much expended emotion, left her exhausted.

Following her basic evening ritual, Gaby cleaned her teeth and stripped off her clothes. Left in her plain, colorless panties, she again thought of Luther, of what he’d done, what she’d enjoyed.

Insane.

Wonderful.

After double-checking her locks, she fell into her bed.

Oppressive evening air engulfed her body. No breeze stirred through the open window; only cries and crashes and other emblematic sounds of the neighboring slums filtered through.

Flat on her back, her arms folded over her middle, Gaby stared at the stained and crumbling ceiling—and pondered Luther: his hands, his mouth, his warmth and caring.

She was about to doze off when the verisimilitude of the ravaged corpse, discolored, swelled with river water, skulked past her exhaustion to disrupt her thoughts. The images integrated with those of Bliss’s pale face, her tangible trepidation.

For one of the few times in her life, Gaby craved something other than a normal life.

She craved Luther.

But duty demanded she defend Bliss, and that meant she’d have to cool things with Luther in order to keep her God-given advantage.

Being near him meant she risked a loss of her remarkable acumen toward evil, evil that meant to harm Bliss.

There’d be no restful breakfast for them.

For now, until she destroyed the wickedness, she couldn’t let Luther drown her in that prodigious pleasure.

Her duty was a burden, but she wouldn’t forsake it.

Somehow, all wants and needs aside, she had to accomplish the impossible—again.