L.L. Foster - The Acceptance

Eyes keen and wary, Luther watched her. “It’s a free country, Gaby.”

“No, it isn’t, not really.” A rusted can blocked her path; she crushed it with her heel. “But either way, it doesn’t change the fact that he was here for some reason, and he shouldn’t have been.”

“He looked around twelve or so. A kid. And a scrawny kid at that. Surely you don’t consider him a threat to your hookers?”

“ My hookers?” That made her roll her eyes. “I don’t claim ownership to the ladies.”

He pressed her. “You consider yourself their protector.”

Rolling one shoulder, she said, “It’s a purpose. That’s all.”

“And you need one?”

“Don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

“Isn’t that why you’re a cop?” Even as he annoyed her with his persistence, she felt the encroachment of that odd comfort that always ameliorated her edge when she was in Luther’s close proximity. She sneered, “You want to accomplish things, make a difference?”

He strolled beside her in silence. “You say that like it isn’t possible.”

It wasn’t. But she wouldn’t burst his insulating bubble by telling him so. Not that he’d believe her anyway. Luther was special, but he was also blind to the true depravity of evil.

When she didn’t reply, he finally said, “It’s dangerous for you to hang out with whores, Gaby. Some of them have pimps—”

“Who get real mean on occasion. I know. I’ve seen it. And more.” God hadn’t asked for her intervention with the abusive johns. But she’d given it anyway—and enjoyed herself.

That was something she’d learned since meeting Luther, that righting wrongs—even those simple, quotidian deeds of inhumanity—gave her a great sense of satisfaction, and the feeling that she had some control over her own destiny. She didn’t have to base her every act on God’s demand.

She, Gabrielle Cody, could sometimes act on her own.

Slanting another glance at Luther, she admired the strong lines of his nose, chin, and jaw, the way an evening breeze disrupted his trimmed blond hair—and she found him so visually pleasing, she wished she never had to look away. “I have an understanding with the men who do claim ownership of the ladies.”

Luther muttered a rank curse under his breath, tightened even more, and asked, “Let’s hear it.”

“Not much to hear.” Gaby forced her gaze back to the long stretch of road before them. Haggard vagrants curled in empty doorways; shadowy dealings took place in darkened parked cars; nightlife scurried about, committing conventional crimes and atrocities unworthy of opposition. “They rule the roost, as the ladies allow, but when they cross the line too much . . .” She let her voice fade off, and shrugged. “Shit happens.”

“Shit?”

Satiety unfurled lazily inside her. “In the dark,” she whispered, “where it’s impossible to distinguish a face, things can happen. Things like the slice of a knife where men hope no blade will ever venture.” Her palms tingled in memory of that first, light slice—shallow, superficial, and all the more terrifying for it. She could almost smell the fear of her targets, the memory of it pleasantly scorched into her brain. “It’s effective.”

Luther came to a dead halt. “Jesus, Gaby.”

Facing him, she crossed her arms and cocked out one hip. “When I met you, I was pretty damn stupid about all things sexual.”

Every muscle in his body tensed. “You were innocent, not stupid.”

She shook her head. “No, never.”

“Yes.” He stepped closer. “There’s a difference, Gaby, and I’m well aware of it.”

Fool. Luther might not realize it, but she wasn’t even innocent at birth. She didn’t know what it would be like to have innocence. “I just hadn’t much thought about sex, and I had zero action.” She looked at his throat, at the open collar of his shirt, and her heartbeat grew heavy. “ After you, well, I thought about it a lot.” Her gaze came back to his. “The ladies taught me things.”

He stared, fascinated, horrified. Mute.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, cop!” She reached out and shoved him from his stupor. “I don’t mean that I did anything with them.”

He rocked back on his heels. “Thank God.”

“Yeah, He wouldn’t have liked it, that’s for sure.”

“He?”

She shook her head, unwilling to go into her most personal relationship. “I witnessed a lot of stuff. And I had all these questions—”

Luther pokered right back up again. “You asked hookers to educate you on sex?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to announce it to the whole street.”

He grabbed her arm and drew her toward the closest building. It didn’t offer much privacy, but at least they weren’t in the middle of the walkway.

“I thought we agreed you’d come to me.”

Snorting, she said, “I’d figured on never seeing you again, remember?”

Through his teeth, he said, “It’s not like I could forget.”

Ignoring his ire, Gaby added, “Besides, the ladies proved to be real candid about stuff. Way more so than you or Morty ever were.”

Tilting his head back, Luther groaned to the starry sky.

“Stop dying on me, will you? I’m just saying, now I have a better understanding on what all the hoopla is about—not that the ladies think sex is all that great. For them, it’s a messy chore, but hey, it pays the bills, right?”

Leaning back on the building, his jaw clenched and his eyes zeroed in on her, Luther said, “Selling sex and sharing it with someone special are two different things.”

“Even though it sounds pretty complicated and verging on gross, I think I agree with you. What I felt with you and what I felt when I watched the women—”

“You watched the hookers servicing johns?”

Did he have to keep sounding so appalled? “A few times, yeah. Occasionally some perverted creeps will visit, and I need to keep close, for protective reasons, you know. But my point is—”

“I do not want you watching that warped shit!”

Damn it, now she forgot her point. “Well, Daddy , it’s not up to you, is it?”

He loomed over her. “Do not push me, Gaby.”

“Or what?” she asked, very deliberately giving him a good hard push.

Silence stretched out while he mentally chewed on his response. “I haven’t forgiven you yet for disappearing on me.” He brought his nose to hers. “And I’m still suspicious of every damn move you make.”

That sobered her and sucked the anger out of her veins. Crestfallen, doused in icy reality, she nodded. “I know.”

Her meekness only ripened his fury. “If you force my hand, I swear to God I’ll handcuff you and drag your scrawny ass to the station where we can sort things out at my leisure.”

She wouldn’t— couldn’t —let him do that. If he ever got her locked away, he might not let her loose again, and that was a risk she couldn’t take.

Without the ability to follow God’s summons, the pain would destroy her. She knew it, she accepted it.

“I believe you, cop, I really do.” Turning away, she said, “And that’s why sex can’t ever happen between us, never mind my moment of— What did you call it? Insanity? That fits.” Strolling off, she added, “You do make me insane.”

In a roar loud enough to disrupt the dead, Luther demanded, “Where are you going?”

“To see Mort.” At least that’d take her a good distance from Luther, and she needed the separation before she got melancholy, or worse, before she broke his jaw. “Is that allowed, cop, or will visiting a friend put me in jeopardy of being arrested?”

In the time that she’d been away from him, Gaby had forgotten the soundless way he moved. Suddenly his hand clamped around her upper arm and he drew her to an uncompromising, but gentle halt.