Left eye twitching, Luther stared at her. His eyes narrowed more. Then he nodded. “I suppose it does.”

  That reply so took her by surprise, Gaby almost grinned. The lighthearted feeling was so alien to her that it left her disconcerted. “And you call me dangerous.”

  “Gaby, wait.”

  “For what? You want to tease me more?”

  “No, actually…” He straightened to his full height. “I want to ask you out on a date.”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

  Well, Luther thought, he should have expected just such a reaction. On some topics, Gaby could be very predictable.

  Especially when she made cavalier confessions about stabbing rapists in the dead of the night.

  It wasn’t easy, but Luther tamped down his temper again. The best way to protect Gaby and to learn all her secrets—secrets he felt certain would help unravel his current mystery—was to get closer to her.

  He liked that idea on several levels, only one of them being personal interest.

  If it turned out she really was just a confused, mixed-up product of her upbringing, great. But if she was somehow involved with the murder of that man, and his attack, he’d prosecute her just as he would any other criminal.

  Regardless of how it’d hurt him to do so.

  He’d thought about it, and he knew how to counter the many arguments she’d have against a growing relationship. “No, I’m sane enough. I think.”

  He eyed her head to toe. The mysterious shifting of her features had faded away. She once again looked like regular Gaby Cody, tall, thin, mean-tempered, too sensitive and too guarded, and far too alone.

  “Forget it.” She started out of the alley.

  “No.”

  Going rigid with disbelief, she jerked around to face him. “What do you mean, no?”

  “No, I won’t forget about it. Don’t be a coward, Gaby. Give me a chance.”

  Her chin tucked in and her eyes narrowed to furious slits. “Coward?”

  “It’s not a big deal. I’m not proposing we go to a fancy dinner or anything. In fact, what I have planned is totally casual. You won’t even have to change clothes.”

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to, you ass. I don’t own anything different!”

  That stymied him. So Gaby always dressed in that hideous getup? “You don’t own—”

  As if regretting that confession, she pressed her mouth together.

  “Why?”

  Giving nothing away, she said, “I don’t have much to spend, and I’m no more interested in fashion than I am in television or music or playing.”

  “So you literally wear the same clothes, day in and day out.”

  Her chin went up. “Yes.”

  “Do you at least have colorful pajamas?”

  “I sleep naked.”

  He did not need to know that. Best to get things back on track before he totally lost sight of his purpose. “What you’re wearing is perfect for what I have in mind.”

  “Slumming?”

  She could be so defensive. “No, actually, but it is casual. I’ll be in jeans, too. So…Thursday at six? I’d say tomorrow or the next day, but I have some things to tend to first—”

  “Like checking out the treatment center for the indigent?”

  Glad that he could accommodate her on that, Luther nodded. “Yes.”

  “And making sure that Ms. Davies gets a proper burial?”

  Because it mattered to her, he said, “Yes, I’ll check into that.”

  “Are you screwing that female cop?”

  The rapid-fire change in subject threw Luther. “Who? Ann?”

  “I think that was her name. The pretty one who came to play basketball with you.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “How many female cops do you know?”

  “Several.” He studied Gaby, wondering where her thoughts were taking her. “Women have all the same positions in the police force as men, though I’d say men still outnumber them.”

  “So which ones are you screwing?”

  He should have been used to her language by now. She didn’t use it to be deliberately crude or off-putting. Luther honestly thought she knew no other way, and understanding that only increased the mystery surrounding her. “I’m not intimate with any of them.”

  Gaby scoffed, but otherwise didn’t look the least bit concerned about his personal life. “When you first saw me today, you hauled me away because you didn’t want your friend Ann to see me, right?”

  “Yes.” The Inquisition couldn’t have been this difficult.

  “Why? Were you afraid I’d embarrass you?”

  “No.” Very little would ever get past Gaby. Luther crossed his arms over his chest and leaned on the brick wall. “The truth is, I’m still uncertain how involved you might be with certain things going on.”

  “The filleted man?”

  While most women would have at least cringed, if not gone hysterical, Gaby acknowledged the gruesome murder with casual disregard.

  “Quit calling him that, but yes. That’s who I’m talking about.” Among other things. “Not that I’m accusing you of anything, Gaby, but if you are involved, the less anyone else knows about you, the better I’ll be able to protect you—”

  “Protect me?” She turned and strode away, saying, “You’re an idiot.”

  Luther caught up to her. “Because I want to protect you?”

  “Because you think you can. Because you think I’m the one who needs protection.”

  “If not you, Gaby, then who?”

  She shook her head—and slanted him a look that made Luther’s masculine ego rebel.

  “Me? You think that I need protection?”

  Another look. “You’re the one with the fat bandage on his head.”

  Son of a bitch! “I was jumped from behind, Gaby.”

  “And they say cops are alert. Can’t prove it by you, huh?” She headed back toward his car. “Look, just because I let you kiss me and rub yourself against me a little doesn’t make you responsible for me.”

  The way she put things…She was more blunt than a long-practiced porn star, but as innocent as a child. He supposed most of that could be attributed to being raised partially in foster care, and then later by a priest. An odd mix, that.

  “How far did you get in school?”

  “About eighth grade. Why?”

  That helped explain things further. Most kids learned so much just by being with each other. “How come?”

  “Father homeschooled me.” And then under her breath, she added, “But only in things he found important.”

  “Like?”

  She shook her head. They neared the court and Gaby stared toward Ann. More kids had joined her, and together they made a ruckus.

  “She’s a nice lady, isn’t she?”

  “I think so.” As they got closer, they could both hear Ann’s husky laugh. For some reason, it bothered Luther.

  He didn’t want Gaby to draw comparisons to herself.

  “Thursday, at six o’clock, I’m coming by for you, Gaby.”

  “It’s a free country.”

  Damn, but she could be so infuriating. “I want you to be there.”

  “If nothing else comes up, I will be.”

  Guessing that was the closest he’d get to a promised date, Luther matched his stride to hers. “Can I give you a ride back to your place?”

  “I’ll take a bus.”

  “I could drive you.”

  She stopped beside his car and faced him. “I’d rather take a bus. I don’t want to be around you any more today. You’re better in small doses.”

  Luther propped his hands on his hips. If he didn’t have a healthy self-image, he’d be demolished. “All right. But I meant it about Thursday, Gaby. Don’t pull out your fists, but there really is no reason to worry about my plans. I promise you’ll like it.”

  She made a face. “Yeah, well, I liked what you did in the alley, too, but it still worries me. A lot. So I’ll have to think about Thursday. But I’ll try to talk myself into it. I’ve never been on a date.” She let out a breath. “Luther?”

  “Yes?”

  “Promise me you’ll be careful, okay? I know I used too much sarcasm before, taunting you for getting taken off guard. But you really do have someone trying to hurt you, and regardless of any suspicions you might have, it’s not me.”

  “I promise.”

  “Good.” She tipped her head. “You infuriate me, but I’d hate to see anything happen to you.”

  Luther stood there, without words, and watched her leave him.

  He wanted to believe her. He did believe her.

  And that left him more concerned than anything else could have.

  Chapter 14

  Setting the ink aside, Gaby looked at her last drawing, a depiction of a crazed ghoul dying a deserving death under her hands. As a reflection of her current foul disposition, everything now appeared more intense, bigger, darker, and meaner.

  Desire for Luther, foreboding of the strange new evil that taunted her, and rage over her helplessness in both made a strange elixir that Gaby had trouble swallowing. Her appetite had waned, she couldn’t keep still, and she desperately wanted God to call her out, to give her the power to do something, anything, other than fret like an old woman.

  But hour after hour, no call came.

  Worse, with Morty dogging her every step, Gaby couldn’t track down the mutant atrocity as she’d like. Twice, she had tried going back to the woods to investigate further the freakish happenings and turbulent apparitions festering there.

  But shaking Mort proved impossible. Like a shadow, where she went, he followed.

  Allowing him to befriend her had monumental repercussions. In the name of friendship, Mort now felt free to invade her privacy at will. Several times yesterday, he’d come to her door asking if she’d like a meal, a drink, a walk around the block. Twice today he’d done the same, lingering in the hall even after she’d barked orders for him to get lost.

  No matter how she tried to dissuade him, Mort remained immune to her need for solitude.

  If she sought peace with her thoughts on the front stoop, he joined her in the way of old familiar friends, with nothing much to say, content just to waste an hour together.

  With sturdy locks now on the front door and all the windows, Morty even slept with his apartment door ajar—he claimed because the current circumstances had shaken him and he wanted to feel closer to Gaby.

  She knew it was so that he could hear her come and go.

  The dolt worried for her, and had some harebrained idea about protecting her, probably more from herself than anything or anyone else.

  He suffocated her—but she wasn’t hard-hearted enough to tell him so outright.

  In fact, if it weren’t for so much evil lurking, Gaby might have enjoyed Mort’s persistent companionship.

  To keep from taking her bad temper out on him more than she already had, she spent long hours at her desk, working on a new story. She wrote out her frustrations and illustrated her worries, and the newest volume in the graphic novel series turned out more powerful than any of the others had.

  Being a paladin hadn’t obliterated her more selfish vices—like pride. She swelled with it now as each picture and chunk of dialogue came together to create a compelling story of personal struggle, physical conflict, and ultimate triumph.

  Writing and drawing throughout the night, she finished the piece of pure fiction in half the time it usually took her.

  Having a creative outlet helped—except that Mort and the girl from the alley both showed up in key roles in the story, and the possible ramifications of that wouldn’t do. Too many details could give her away, especially since Mort was her biggest fan. If anyone ever connected the stories to her, her goose would be not only cooked but eaten and digested, too.

  She needed anonymous depictions, not factual ones.

  Yet on top of Mort and the girl, Luther’s role in the series also expanded into undeniable proportions.

  Not that Gaby made the tough-as-nails angel of justice look anything like Luther Cross. As in most graphic novels, his character took on a larger-than-life appearance, with impossibly broad shoulders and an astonishing handsomeness made cruel by edgy determination and a sharp glint in his eyes.

  He protected with one hand and wreaked devastation with the other.

  The avenging cop in her series was everything Gaby wished the real Luther Cross could be. He saw the futileness of fighting something that had no real boundaries or moral compass, a mutation that could proliferate across families and into friends, could infest minds and bodies as well as souls.

  But Luther wasn’t that man. He was merely an above-average servant of the law with keen intuition, overwhelming kindness, and a belief in only what he saw and touched.

  He’d never really believe in Gaby, not with the farfetched realities of her existence.

  Looking down at her hands, Gaby noted new calluses on her fingers and messy ink stains beneath her uneven nails. Assuming Mort would soon return with another song and dance about food or fresh air or whatever else the normal people in the world found helpful in times of stress, she stretched her back, rotated her head on her neck to remove a few kinks and, because she couldn’t help herself, glanced at the clock.

  Five-thirty.

  Luther would show up in thirty minutes.

  What to do?

  Indecision chewed on the edges of Gaby’s satisfaction. Finishing the graphic novel no longer sufficed as a freeing accomplishment.

  Driven from her seat by self-loathing and the oppressive heat of the room, Gaby left her desk and moved to the wide-open window. No breeze stirred, but at least the exhaust-fumed air from outside didn’t smell of ink and dust and disgust from indecision.

  Gaby peered at the cloudless sky, the arid leaves on sickly trees, and the passersby milling in the street. Cars moved by in a blur of colors and the noise level rose and faded in an uneven cadence.

  Across the street, she spotted a whore making lewd gestures at a passing group of young men. They returned her invitation with vile insults and kept going, uninterested in what she offered.

  The whore didn’t seem to mind. She walked a little farther and found another man to target.

  He seemed more willing.

  Curiosity struck a blow, obliterating some of the other disturbing emotions currently plaguing her. She made up her mind.

  She had to get outside. Had to walk and think and…investigate. If not the monsters, then something of more interest. Something equally at the forefront of her mind.

  If Luther didn’t want to wait for her, fine.

  Good.

  She wasn’t at all sure she even wanted him to.

  Anxious now that she had a purpose, Gaby went into the bathroom to scrub her hands, cleaning them the best she could. Some ink remained under her nails, so she used the tip of her knife to dig out the stains. Haste made her ruthless and she nicked one fingertip, making it bleed.

  Ignoring the small wound, she splashed her face to refresh herself, pushed her hair back, and gave one cursory glance at her very wrinkled and limp clothes.

  So she looked like a used dishrag. Who cared?

  She sure as hell didn’t.

  By the time Gaby finished with her meager ablutions, the ink on the last pages had dried. She carefully stored away the story where no one would find it. Tomorrow she’d look it over, and if it still felt right, she’d get it postmarked to Mort.

  Mailing off a manuscript was the closest Gaby ever got to eradicating a nightmare.

  Mind made up and a lie prepared, she went down the stairs in her normal noisy way. Mort’s head poked out his door.

  Keeping her stony gaze forward, Gaby said, “No.”

  Smiling, he came out the rest of the way. “Hi to you, too, Gaby. What are you—”

  “No, Mort.” Doing her best to block him from her peripheral vision, she kept walking.

  “No what?” Barefoot, his hair mangled from an obvious nap, Mort rushed after her.

  “No, I don’t need company.” Gaby unlocked the door and pushed it open. “No, you can’t come along anyway. No, I don’t need your help.” She had one foot out the door. “No, no, no.”

  “But—”

  “Damn it, Mort!” Impatient to be gone before Luther showed up, Gaby swung around and backed Mort up to the wall. “Shouldn’t you be running the store?”

  “I have a temporary kid helping out today.”

  Probably so he could keep closer tabs on her. Mort loved his comic store and usually enjoyed running it.

  But today, he didn’t. So Gaby would have to use the lie. “Remember that little girl from the alley?”

  “Little girl?” Blinking fast, Mort nodded. “Uh…You mean the lady you saved?”

  Gaby hated how he put that, as if she ran around playing rescuer all the damn time, when nothing could be further from the truth. “She was a kid, Mort, not a grown lady. I doubt she’s out of her teens.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Well, I’m going to see her.” Her chin went up, her eyes narrowed in challenge. “All things considered, I don’t think she’ll want any men hanging around.”

  “You know where she is?”

  Gaby had no idea. Course, she had no real notion of seeing the girl, either. She only needed to escape Mort’s watchful eye. “Not yet, but I’ll ask around. I’ll find her.”

  “It’s not safe—”

  Gaby went nose to nose with Mort. “I. Will be. Fine.” The words came out from between teeth clenched tight enough to break.

  “Okay, okay,” he agreed quickly, hoping to mollify her. “Will you pretty please just tell me how long you’ll be gone?”

  Maybe if she’d ever had a mother, Mort’s overbearing nosiness wouldn’t have been so annoying. But she’d never had anyone be so officious, and it left her unglued. “And just how the hell should I know—”

  “She won’t be long,” Luther said from the open doorway.

  Gaby swung around to see him. He stared at her, and she felt so guilty she almost shrank away. As promised, he’d dressed casually in jeans and a printed T-shirt that read, THE MEEK SHALL INHERIT THE EARTH—AFTER I’M THROUGH WITH IT.