Oren smiled at her through the rearview mirror—and she gagged.
Outrage coursed through him. “Don’t you dare!” Frantically searching for the window release while still watching her, Oren lowered the window. “Hang your head out, you stupid pig. Hang it out!”
Oh God, she didn’t.
Through the mirror, Oren watched in disbelief as she swayed away from the door and gagged again, this time more convulsively.
“You listen to me, you detestable tramp. If you dare vomit in my car, I swear to you, I’ll—”
She hurled, not just in the car, but all over the back of Oren’s head.
Shock stripped him of thought and reaction. He felt the hot, loamy ooze dripping down his hair, seeping into his neck, his ear cavities, slipping over his shoulders and on to his chest.
It almost made him vomit as well.
Slamming on the brakes, he knew he’d kill her now, right now—and in the next second, she toppled out the open window and hit the street hard.
Oren’s mouth fell open. No. She didn’t.
How dare she?
Bliss screamed even as she pushed herself up to her feet.
Two thugs on the corner looked up.
Screeching, her voice raw and weak, Bliss made a haphazard race down the street. She didn’t even care that puke stained the front of her clothes, or that she babbled like a drugged idiot.
Men in front of a bar started toward her.
Fury made Oren see red. Damn her, he had no choice but to drive away now, before anyone approached him with questions. The stupid bitch had robbed him. Because of her and her weak stomach, he’d have to go home empty-handed.
With puke on his neck.
Seething, he made a vow to return, soon, and when he did, he’d make sure she paid. They’d all pay.
In the most painful ways he could devise.
Chapter 6
“Tell me what happened with Carver.”
Walking away from him, Gaby went to the building and slumped down to sit with her back against it, her knees up.
Even in the dim light, Luther could see the crotch of her plain white panties, her long calves, her pale thighs. Salacious heat set his blood to boiling. His dick twitched, but then, around Gaby, twitchy was a way of life.
But more than that, more than anything carnal, he felt Gaby’s isolation, and he hated it.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t give in to it. Not yet. Not now, with a murder to be solved.
Standing over her helped Luther keep the emotional distance he needed to think with clarity. “Tell me what happened, Gaby.”
“Fine.” She scratched at a bug bite on her shoulder. “Carver hurt one of the women.” She shrugged. “So I hurt him.”
Luther had known the facts, but still, the dispassionate, almost flippant way Gaby retold the story bothered him. He wanted to see her care. About something. About him. “Which woman? Give me a name.”
“Winnie.”
Luther searched his mind, but couldn’t dredge up a resemblance to go with the name. “You know her well?”
“No, but what does that matter?” Elbows on her knees, Gaby dropped her forehead down and crossed her wrists at the back of her skull. Voice muffled, she intoned, “No man has a right to hurt a woman.”
“I agree.” Abuse of any kind enraged him. “Unfortunately—”
“Yeah, they’re prostitutes. I know. And I accept their life choices, I really do. They let men knock them around as a routine part of their day. It’s as commonplace for them as eating is for other women.” Her hands curled into fists. “But there are always limits, and Carver took it too far. He hurt her.”
Aching to touch her, Luther whispered, “It wasn’t the first time.”
“No.” Her shoulders tightened. “But then Bliss was under his control.”
Ah. He’d realized early on that she and Bliss had an affinity, a bond of sorts.
And that meant . . . what? That Gaby had to get Carver in line? “You take responsibility for Bliss?”
“She’d lived on the streets for a long time.”
Another child society had ignored, and forgotten. Luther softened more. “Until you moved her in near you.”
“Something like that. I thought it’d be better, but with Carver still around . . . I won’t let anyone hurt her, Luther.” She made a small, choking sound, and Luther could tell it hurt her to admit, “She’s so young, and so sad, that I can’t help but care for her.”
Her distress proved more than Luther could take. Giving up, he sat down on the mucky, debris-covered concrete beside her. Being closer to Gaby, shoulders touching, helped.
A little.
“Let’s try this from another angle.” Staring at the moon-glow on her smooth skin, Luther asked, “Does Carver know for sure it was you who attacked him?”
Her shoulders twitched with a grunt. “How should I know? He’s dumber than a rock.” She lifted her face, showing Luther red eyes and total dejection. “But even if he does, so what?”
So what? Exasperated, Luther stared at her. “He’s an unconscionable degenerate out for vengeance.”
Gaby’s lip curled with disdain. “Carver can’t hurt me.” Not seriously. She was too strong, and healed too quickly.
But others . . .
Her insistence of indomitability kept Luther awake on too many nights. “If Carver was involved with the murder of that woman—”
“I’ll find out,” Gaby said as a matter of course. “I doubt if he was, but he won’t be able to lie to me.”
“No.” Luther couldn’t get more than that single word out of his mouth. Every muscle in his body clenched in denial. He’d raced here to protect Gaby, not to encourage her into harm’s way, not to send her after a sick bastard with a penchant for torture.
Gaby didn’t look at him. She picked through the gravel on the sidewalk beside her until she found a pebble that appealed to her. She rolled it between her fingers, pitched it away.
He could practically see her thoughts churning.
Finally, she looked at him, her gaze so exigent that he couldn’t look away. “I know this will be tough for you, but you’re going to have to trust me.”
He shook his head.
“Yes.”
Given her past behavior, how she’d disappeared on him without a word, she asked too much. Luther meant to remonstrate with her and instead, his voice raw, he asked, “Why the hell would I trust you when you don’t trust me?”
For long moments, their gazes clashed. “There is that.”
Damn it.
“So you need some reasons. Well, let me see.” Gaby stared at her hands as she dusted them off, then propped her elbows on her knees. “How about, because you care for me and you don’t want me hurt, and letting me do this my way is the best possible insurance you can get that I won’t be hurt.”
Seeking control, knowing it to be well out of reach, Luther closed his eyes. “Just tell me where I can find Carver.” He opened his eyes, willing her to try things his way for a change.
“Sorry, no.” Her eyes darkened with regret. “There’s no point. He won’t tell you anything. You and I both know that.”
Obstinate to the bitter end. “But you think you can make him talk?”
“If he knows anything worth telling, yeah, I can.” Her affect revealed no modesty in her ability. “For sure when I finish with him, he won’t want revenge on me. He’ll just want to stay the hell out of my way.”
Putting his head back against the rough bricks, Luther laughed. “Jesus, Gaby. You leave me no choices.”
Lacking concern for his dilemma, she said, “Yeah? Meaning what?”
Did he, and his circumstance, truly not matter to her? Could she be that indifferent to him? “If you’ll recall, I’m an officer of the law.”
“No shit. Trust me, you being a cop isn’t something I’m likely to forget.”