“That’s not what’s worrying you, is it?”
“No.” She could deal with Luther. Somehow.
But images, memories, kept crowding in, suffocating her. Hurting her.
“Gaby?”
Her eyes burned, so Gaby used her free hand to rub them. “I just . . . anything to do with hospitals and ambulances and all that . . .”
“Oh.” His fingers squeezed hers. “You’re reminded of the guy who raised you?”
“Father didn’t raise me.” The state had raised her—and they’d done a shitty job of it. “I didn’t even meet him until I was seventeen.” And then her life, her entire world, had changed.
Someone approached with water and a wet cloth. Mort thanked them and accepted the items for Gaby.
After a big swig of water that helped a little, she wiped her face. Soot covered her clothes, her hair and skin.
Her thoughts.
She stared off at nothing in particular. “I didn’t know him long enough, but he was the closest thing to family that I had.”
Quietly, Mort said, “Take another drink. It’ll help take the sting out of your throat.”
“Thanks.”
As she guzzled the water, Mort cleared his throat. “What Ann said . . .”
“Yeah.” She set the jug aside. “She’s right.” A trickle of water ran down her chin and dropped onto her chest. That felt good, too, cooling, so Gaby upended the jug and doused her head and shoulders. “I am a bitch, Mort. We both know it.”
“You are not. It’s just that Ann’s defensive of me.”
“She cares for you.” Using the cloth again, Gaby cleaned her face the best she could—but there was only so much she could do to put off the inevitable. She owed Mort an apology. “I’m sorry.”
“Gaby, don’t.”
“Ann hit it dead-on. I have been cruel.” She snorted at herself. “Hell, I’m usually cruel.”
“You’re a paladin. You save people.”
“Fucking hero worship.” Some things never changed. “Stow it or I’ll puke, okay? I’m an asshole and that’s all there is to it. You deserve better.”
“Okay, so you can be abrasive.” In a show of camaraderie, Mort nudged her with his shoulder. He was teasing, friendly. “You are the best, and I’m proud to call you my friend.”
Damn. How had she gotten so blessed? Gaby sat there, numb and hurt and horribly afraid—for things she might lose, things she hadn’t known were hers.
Caring could be a real bitch.
Ann strode up, then sat down beside her. “Mort, give us a second, okay?”
“Sure thing, honey.” He stood without another word and walked away.
“He minds well.”
“Don’t start, Gaby.”
“Sorry.” Wondering what Ann wanted, dreading it a little, Gaby waited.
Ann put her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands. Sunlight gilded her fair hair, fighting with the dulling effects of smoke. She looked like a smudged angel, like Luther’s counterpart.
But she loved Mort. Gaby could see that. She doubted Ann or Mort knew it yet, but they were meant to be together.
Strange. But kind of nice.
Ann let out a long breath. “Okay, so you’re the weirdest, scariest, and most capable person I’ve ever come across.”
Well, she hadn’t expected that. Closing her burning eyes, Gaby tried to meter her breaths.
“You’re also the bravest.”
Rasping past the numbing effects of memories and excess sentiment, Gaby said, “Bravery has shit to do with it.”
“Modest, too.”
Oh God. A woman could only take so much. Gaby reclined against the hot pavement and draped the damp cloth over her face.
Ann wasn’t deterred.
“You didn’t even know the woman in that building, did you, Gaby?”
Hell, she hadn’t known for sure it was a woman until they’d reached the outdoors. “No.”
“But you ran into that blaze anyway.”
Gaby shrugged. It was her duty. She’d been told to go, so she went. Not that Ann would understand.
“You’d have gone in for Mort—or me.”
If God told her to . . . No. She wouldn’t play games with herself. Not anymore. Luther’s presence had somehow counteracted God’s command—and still, she had to go.
If someone, especially someone she knew, was at risk, and she could help, then it wouldn’t matter what God had to say about it.
Tears burned her eyes and clogged her throat. “Fucking smoke.” Using the cloth, she swiped her eyes.
“Gaby?”
“Yeah.” Sitting up, she tossed the cloth to the side. “I’d have gone in for you. Happy?”
“I’d say I’m more enlightened than happy. But we’re getting there.”
“Dandy.”
Ann laughed, but quickly sobered. “How did you know?”
Shit, shit, shit. Playing dumb, Gaby asked, “Know what?”
“That she was in there?”
Here we go again. “I heard her.” Looking Ann dead in the eyes, Gaby asked, “Didn’t you?”
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“Huh. I guess I’ve got exceptional hearing.”
Not the least bit fooled, Ann nodded. “I guess so.” She patted Gaby’s knee. “It’s definitely time for me to get that shower. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“I always do.”
Ann no sooner left, giving Gaby some respite, than a shadow fell over her. She knew it was Luther, and she wasn’t in the mood for his complaints. “Not now.”
He knelt down in front of her and took her hands. “We’re sharing, remember?”
His mood had changed. Again. He shifted tempers quicker than a teenage girl on her period. Right now, he was in comfort mode, and Gaby didn’t know if she could take it. Her throat felt raw, her eyes scratchy.
Camouflaging her loss of composure, she replied with acrimony. “How could I forget?”
His big hand cuddled the side of her face. “I have a bad feeling—”
“Then your feelings are dead-on, cop, because, yeah, it’s related.”
Luther cursed quietly under his breath. “Are you certain?”
That’s it? He wouldn’t question her beyond that one request for affirmation? Wonder of wonders.
Gaby nodded, and that seemed to galvanize Luther into action. He went to the officer in charge of taking names from the crowd, and issued new orders.
It wouldn’t do him any good.
The person responsible had already skipped away, gone before the flames took hold, leaving Gaby with a duty that superseded his capture.
Clever mastermind? Or sick sadist bent on any form of destruction?
More would happen. A lot more.
Until the degenerate fiend got his hands on a woman to torment, he’d wreak havoc in every other way imaginable.
He needed a hooker.
Perhaps it was time for Gaby to take up a new profession.
Utilizing infinite care, Oren stowed the syringes in a small case. If they thought the mayhem would end with one measly fire—a fire that hadn’t even killed the bitch he’d stowed inside the building—then they’d be in for a delightful surprise.
Not that the woman’s life would matter much, one way or the other. He’d found her nearly insensible with drugs at a crack house. Being near there had frightened him, but also given him other ideas. Addicts were easy to manipulate. So were transients. And here, in this slum area, both were plentiful.
Tonight, tomorrow, and the day after, he’d wreak havoc. He’d keep that fucking cop and beanpole bitch so preoccupied, they wouldn’t have time to worry about a group of worthless whores. In fact, now that he’d seen the beanpole take money from the cop, she ranked right up there with the other sluts.
If he could get to her, he would. She’d be his first pick.
But it’d be tricky. He wouldn’t underestimate her.
Against all odds, she’d charged into that fire and carried out the junkie as if misplaced heroism ran through her veins.
Interfering cunt. When he had her locked securely in his basement, he’d teach her what it meant to get in his way. He wouldn’t let Aunt Dory or Uncle Myer end her tutelage too soon. She’d pay, long and dear.