“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.
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.