Gaby defied him with a look. “What’s the matter, cop? Too much for you?”
Challenged, Luther held silent for a heartbeat, then he relented. “Yes, I’ve known evil like that. It’s a sad hazard of my profession.”
Poor Luther. He wanted so badly to accept her, that he tried to find correlations in their lives and attitudes. “Did you know that evil as soon as you saw it?”
Distant memories passed over his features. “On occasion. Most often, no.” His eyes narrowed. “People can be deceiving.”
Not to paladins. Not to freaks like her. “They don’t deceive me, Luther.” Just to keep him off balance, Gaby lifted to her tiptoes and kissed his mouth hard and fast. “Ever.”
Wary now, Luther set her away from him. “And when you recognize evil, what do you do about it?”
“Me?” Leaving him no illusion as to her facetiousness, Gaby said, “But Luther, I’m just a woman. Whatever could I do?”
Rather than take the bait, Luther dragged her back to him and this time the kiss was slow and deep, scorching hot, mesmerizing.
Claiming.
Gaby thought about struggling . . . but what the hell?
She needed this.
She needed more. Of him.
Little by little, she understood that sexual need caused at least part of her frustration, sleeplessness, and fractious demeanor.
For Luther.
When he ended the kiss, Luther also ended all contact. He released Gaby, stepped back two paces, and watched her.
Collapsing against the wall, Gaby touched her now swollen and tingling lips.
And sighed.
Maybe sharing with Luther wasn’t so unthinkable. Maybe, just maybe, she could ease him into the abomination of her life.
“Wow. I’m starting to like that more and more.”
He didn’t smile. “When Bliss said that she knew you’d be there, what exactly did she mean?”
With sexual awareness coursing like hot lava through her veins, Gaby watched Luther with new eyes. “You’d have to ask her.”
He tried a different tack. “What do you think she meant?”
Oh no. Not so soon. It was time to get out from under Luther’s spell.
Willing strength into her bones, Gaby pushed away from the wall. “Bliss was drugged, disoriented.” Gaby turned and started down the long corridor. “Who knows what she might’ve meant? Maybe she said that just because . . . I’m a friend.”
“And her description of the room?”
“She fantasized it because of her fear. For her, that’d be the worst to happen, so in her mind, she knew it would happen.”
“You believe that?”
No. She believed Bliss. “Maybe.” In only a few steps, Gaby decided, What the hell? He wanted to know more, so she’d tell him more. “I do believe in mind reading, though I’m not a mind reader myself.”
Rather than doubt her, Luther nodded. “How does it work?”
“I’ve never really studied it, so I’m not sure. But I do know that people have auras, and a lot is revealed through an aura.”
“You’ve mentioned auras before.”
Gaby peered up at him. “Right now, your aura is a muddy shade of violet. Want to know what that means?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Violet usually represents the ability to handle affairs with practicality. But that darker shade is pure erotic imagination.” Gaby tilted her head at him. “You’re asking about Bliss, but your thoughts are divided.”
“Guilty.” Not the least bit ashamed or hesitant, Luther said, “I always want you. I’ve told you that. But now’s not the time, so back to Bliss . . .”
Wow. He did know how to keep her off-kilter. “My theory is that fear naturally heightens sensory perception, so even someone unfamiliar with reading auras could pick up on them when scared witless. Bliss said the woman who took her giggled. That sounds pretty fucking sick to me, so I figure she was giving off some glaring vibes on her intent.”
“And the room?”
“If there is a room, and the demented bitch was thinking about taking Bliss there, she might have picked up on that.”
He chewed his upper lip before saying, “Okay, I can buy that, I suppose.”
“Yeah, right. People like you are the reason that the abstract prospects of the human mind and the intangible realm behind matter are treated as hocus-pocus.”
Luther whistled. “All that, huh?”
Her temper sparked. “Don’t poke fun at me, Luther.”
“Actually, I was thinking there are many depths to you. Some of them are a little loony, but somehow you make it all sound reasonable, and believable.”
She stayed silent, but Gaby felt the nearly tactile sensation of his narrow-eyed attention on her face.
“So, let’s try this another way.”
Oh shit. Why couldn’t he just give it up?
“How did you know Bliss was in trouble?”
Gaby’s heart tripped. She walked faster, harder. Questions on Bliss she could handle. Questions on her own preternatural acuity were hitting too close to home. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“When she was being attacked, somehow you knew it.” Stewing over his own memories, Luther thought it out without Gaby’s help. “You couldn’t see her, and you couldn’t hear her. But somehow you knew what was happening all the same. And that isn’t the first time it’s happened with you.”
“Don’t be—”
“We were talking,” Luther reminded her, “then you suddenly went on alert. I saw it in your face that something was wrong. I didn’t know what—but you did.”
Gaby kept walking.
Luther kept pace with her. “At first, your movements were a little jerky, as if you hurt all over. But then you were facile, and so fast, I could barely keep up.”
“You’re a slowpoke wimp, what can I say?”
“No, Gaby. I’m in good shape, and you know it. My legs are longer and stronger than yours. I have more power. But you outran me.”
Gaby snorted. “If this is about wounded ego, Luther, I don’t have time.”
“It’s about you, Gaby.”
“A boring subject.”
But Luther wouldn’t let it go. “You somehow knew Bliss was being threatened, didn’t you?”
No, no, no. “No.”
Luther snagged her arm and they both stopped.
“Tell me another truth, Gaby. Did you know that evil had her?”
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.