“Yeah, I get it.” Face pale with pain, he favored his arm. “Like I told Jimbo, I just want to get my arm fixed, that’s all. I don’t want no more trouble.”
Gaby wasn’t satisfied. “If it wasn’t for Marie, the woman you burnt . . .” Her lungs constricted with anger all over again, and she had to take a cleansing breath before she could continue. “If it wasn’t for her, I might have killed you tonight, and you and I both know the world would have been a better place for it.”
Pathetic and afraid now that he couldn’t harm anyone, he tried to turn away from Gaby.
Knotting her fingers in his thick, cool hair, Gaby brought his face back around. “You’d be smart to learn from this reprieve, because if I ever again hear of you harming anyone for jollies, man, woman, or child, I’ll hunt you down, and I’ll make you suffer a long time before killing you. I won’t leave a single bone unbroken, and just before you die, I’ll chop off your balls and carve out your black heart.”
Horror flashed in his eyes.
“Believe it.” Gaby released him and stood.
“God Almighty, woman,” Jimbo whispered. “Let it go now. He sees the error of his ways.”
“He better.”
With Jimbo mumbling and huffing beside her, Gaby turned and started to walk away. When she saw Posy and Opal rushing toward them, she paused and, thinking of them, turned back to Jimbo.
At her aggressive approach, his brows arched into his hairline. “What now?”
She leaned in close so only Jimbo would hear her. “Blame any of the other women for my actions tonight, and you and I will have more than words. Am I clear on that, Jimbo?”
“Yeah. Real clear. Now get the fuck out of here, will you? I have to clean up the mess you made before we’re all fucked because of it.”
“You promise you’re just taking him home?”
“Yeah, cross my fucking heart. Now go.”
Gaby studied Jimbo, decided he meant what he said, and headed off. Maybe she wouldn’t play at being a hooker tonight. She wasn’t in the mood. It’d wait. Right now, she felt no evil.
Except for the evil brewing inside her soul.
It was an awful thing to know she possessed the capacity to maim, to murder—to behave exactly as the wholly evil did.
God had made her a paradox.
He’d made her a paladin.
And in the process, she’d become an abomination of all humanity.
Sometimes, she didn’t even trust herself.
Chapter 13
From a safe distance away, Oren cowered in the obscuration of heavy night shadows, watching, waiting, drawn again and again to the tall figure.
Woman?
With the way she fought? He was starting to doubt it.
Flesh and blood? Definitely.
But she possessed abilities he’d never before witnessed. How could she look so plain, and yet be so spectacular?
Unlike the other stupid sluts he’d taken captive, this one would prove to be worthy of his time and refined effort.
She would fight to the bitter end. Never would she give up and surrender to death as an easy escape from the pain, as the other, weak adversaries had.
Not that one.
Adulation kept Oren glued to the spot until she disappeared into the adumbral night. Without her magnificent presence to hold him ensorcelled, Oren’s attention wandered to the gruesomely battered body of the man she’d just dismantled.
Ah. They had that in common: a love of corporal punishment .
While disciplining the big man, she had glowed with vivacious energy. Her face, usually so ordinary, had taken on an ethereal beauty.
Oren’s heart rate accelerated with sweet anticipation. Would she glow like that when he had her strapped down, naked and helpless? Would she still exude energy even as he issued a tantalizing test of pain-filled judgments against her lack of morals?
All along the sidewalk, people milled, seeing the beating as a twisted form of entertainment in their pathetic lives.
Did he dare make use of this golden opportunity? He’d done so much thus far without being stopped, without suspicion. Oren closed his eyes and drank in the sweet taste of bold arrogance.
Tonight he would extend his reach for the thrill of seeing what he could get away with.
Not about to lose this golden opportunity, Oren slipped away to get his car. Taking only enough time to change his disguise and, still maintaining a discreet but diagnostic distance, he drove up the block and waited in the idling car. Only a few minutes passed before another vehicle arrived to retrieve the injured man.
It took two of the hookers to help get the idiot into the car. They were more concerned with haste than gentleness, and given their curses, the man had considerable weight.
It could be a problem, but somehow, Oren knew he’d manage.
With the man stowed in the backseat, the vehicle drove away.
Oren followed. They drove for fifteen minutes or more before slowing. The car pulled in to a quiet but lower-middle-class neighborhood. Headlights turned off, Oren pulled up and waited. The driver got out, went around to the back, opened the door, and without ceremony or care, dumped the big man to the curb.
The car sped away.
Oren waited, but when the big man sat up and still no porch lights came on and no one came to investigate, he decided it was safe enough.
Slowly, cautiously, he pulled up and, when nothing seemed amiss, he got out and approached the big bruiser.
In a childlike voice, he asked, “Mister, are you all right?”
A raw, wretched groan made Oren’s hair stand on end. After scrubbing a hand over his face, the man said, “Help me up, kid.”
Thanks to his broken arm, he sounded nearly in shock, heightening Oren’s bravery.
“Oh my gosh,” Oren enthused. “You’re hurt, aren’t you? You need to get to a hospital.”
“Yeah, a hospital.” The man tried to stand, but he went back to his butt in misery.
God, Oren despised gutless cowards lacking internal fortitude. Hiding his repulsion, he reached for the man’s beefy upper arm. “I’ll help you.”
After urging the brute to his feet, Oren opened the rear door to his car. “You’ll have to get yourself into the backseat. Can you do that? Then I can drive you to the hospital where the doctors can make you comfortable and take care of your pain.”
The man struggled, sweated, and cursed. His broken arm, now blue and grotesquely swollen, was of no use at all. Seeming confused but cooperative, he strained and finally managed to load his crushed and cracked form into the backseat as instructed.
“That’s it.” Oren reached into his pocket. “Now just lean back and close your eyes. I’ll try not to hurt you.” He withdrew a syringe, panted with his ebullience, and stuck the man in the thigh.
The guy was so far gone, he barely flinched at the prick of the needle.
Within seconds, he went entirely limp—which was a blessing, because at least now he wasn’t whining and whimpering. Oren rushed around to the front of the car and got behind the wheel.
Contemplating the sadistic delights in store made driving a challenge. Anticipation sizzled and sparked.
Going straight to the house, Oren jiggled in his seat. He could barely wait until Aunt Dory and Uncle Myer saw the surprise. They’d both been annoyingly antsy without anyone to play with. From the looks of things, this man wouldn’t last long, but then, he didn’t need to.
Oren parked in a rush, locked the garage door, and went to the intercom system. In a singsong voice, he said, “Uncle Myer, Aunt Dory, I need you to come to the basement. Right now.”
Five minutes passed, testing Oren’s forbearance, before his aunt and uncle arrived. Disheveled and sleepy-eyed, still in their bedclothes, they stepped off the elevator.
“Come, come,” Oren told them, his voice tinged with febrile intent. “We have to hurry before he awakens and causes a ruckus.”