L.L. Foster - The Acceptance

“And you are?”

Through narrowed eyes partially concealed by blue-tinted sunglasses, the fellow watched him. “An innocent bystander.” He grinned to show off a gold tooth. “What do you want with the girl?”

Sensing an ally, Luther moved closer. “Actually, Ms. Cody is a friend more than anything. I want to know what she’s up to, that’s all.”

Luther stiffened when the man withdrew a knife from his back pocket, but he only flicked it open to clean his nails. “Tell you what, cop. If you’ll get her out of my hair, I’ll help however I can.”

Viewing his assistance as traitorous, the women started grumbling and grousing to themselves. The man shouted, “Shut the fuck up! Get off your lazy asses and head up the street a ways.”

“I was taking my break,” Betty protested.

Jaw locked, the man took a threatening step toward her. “You want a break, bitch?”

“No, Jimbo.” She ducked, covering her head until she realized he had stopped short of reaching her. Then she hurried away.

“Stupid bitches,” Jimbo spat as he moved back to rest his spine on a lamppost. “Lazy sluts, every fucking one of them.”

Rage simmered inside Luther. He detested men like Jimbo, men who abused those smaller or weaker than himself. “Just so you know,” Luther told him, “I wouldn’t have let you touch her.”

They stared at each other until Jimbo grinned.

“Don’t need to knock Betty around much. She knows her place.” He examined the knife blade. “The bitch you’re talking about don’t, though. She’s fucking psychotic.”

The rage threatened to boil over, but Luther kept his tone calm. “Why do you say that?”

“She bought a shitload of stuff to barricade her room. Got reinforced locks on everything—and that was before I said shit to her.”

“Before?” If Jimbo had given Gaby one second of grief, Luther would take him apart. Oozing menace, disregarding the knife, he crowded into Jimbo’s space. “What exactly did you say to her?”

Jimbo sized him up, and saw more than Luther meant to share. “I only asked her what she was thinking, moving into a whorehouse. But she don’t say much. And when she does, she wants to talk with her fists.”

“She fought you?” God almighty, Luther would kill her himself.

Jimbo laughed. “Nah, man, I don’t fight with the bitches. Besides, she doesn’t work for me.”

“If I thought she did,” Luther said quietly, “I’d kill you.”

Jimbo paused, rethought his position, and went back to his nails. “She moved in, took over, and turned that piss-hole she calls a room into a fortress.” He folded the knife and slid it back into his pocket. “Makes me wonder what kind of trouble she’s expecting—and how it might affect my working girls if it shows up.”

“Did you ask her about it?”

Scoffing, Jimbo said, “Prickly bitch don’t talk to me. She just looks at me like she’d like to skin me alive. But I know why she did it. She figures Carver will be after her, on account of the way she cut him up and all.”

Worse and worse. Just how much trouble had Gaby gotten into since Luther last saw her? With growing exasperation, he asked, “Carver?”

“Yeah. Raggedy-ass hillbilly punk used to work this corner.” He eyed Luther, looked around. “I don’t want trouble with Carver.”

“You should worry more about me, and less about him.”

“My man.” Jimbo grinned with amusement. “I’m not worried ’bout either of yas, but I’d sooner make money than have a hassle. And with you, I think we can work out a deal.”

“I don’t deal with the likes of you.”

“If you want to keep the bitch alive, you’re going to have to. Because it’s a fact, Carver will come looking for her. If we can work in harmony, then hey, I’ll drop you a line when I hear word of the plan. After that . . .” He shrugged. “It’ll be up to you if you wanna play her white knight.”

There was a plan. Jesus. “I’m listening.”

“I want Carver and the woman out of my hair. When he comes after her, you can catch him in the act and put him away for good.”

“Not a problem.” Anyone planning to hurt Gaby made his shit list real quick. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. You’ll get the woman off my corner for good.”

Luther asked, “What does it matter to you if she’s here or not?”

“She interferes with business and gives the whores uppity ideas. Right now, she’s only an annoyance, nothing more. I want her gone before she really starts to piss me off. Deal?”

Taking the time to breathe deep and long, Luther looked up at the sky, breathed in the humid night air and released it slowly. When he knew he could speak without ripping off Jimbo’s head, he faced him.

At six three and two hundred pounds, Luther was bigger than many men. His weight was all muscle; he stayed in shape and kept up with his defense training.

Against him, a jerk-off like Jimbo didn’t stand a chance.

The urge to destroy the psychopathic little cretin trickled ice through Luther’s veins, but he was a man of law, not a vigilante—and not a one-man defense for Gaby Cody’s twisted lifestyle.

The lecture of reason helped Luther to rein in the urge for destruction—but it didn’t stop him from planting a single vicious punch to Jimbo’s solar plexus.

As the smaller man doubled over, wheezing and heaving, Luther caught the front of his shirt and turned to slam him into the wall of the building. “Do I have your attention, Jimbo?”

When Jimbo only coughed and choked, Luther rattled him. “You miserable little bully, suck it up and listen to me.”

“Yeah, man,” Jimbo gasped. “Yeah. I hear ya.”

“I’ll gladly take care of Carver. In return, there better not be a single hair on Gaby’s head disturbed. If anyone touches her, if you let anyone get close enough to hurt her without telling me, I’ll make you the sorriest little shit this city has ever seen. Do I make myself clear?”

Arms folded around himself, Jimbo turned his head to the side and puked. Luther released him with alacrity. “Fuck.” Stepping back out of range, Luther fulminated against the injustice of abuse. “For a man who likes to threaten women, you sure can’t take a punch yourself.”

Jimbo dropped to his knees. He gagged again, but kept down the putrid remains of his gut. After a couple of seconds, he wiped a sleeve over his mouth, spat, and swallowed. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“No, probably not. But I wanted to.” Catching him by the shoulder, Luther pulled him back to his feet. “Now tell me about Carver and why he’d want to hurt Gaby.”

Jimbo nodded a little too quickly.

“Lie to me, and that last blow will seem like a lover’s tap.” Even as Luther hated himself for indulging a bully’s mentality, he gave a grim promise: “I’ll be sure to break no less than three ribs. Believe it, Jimbo.”

Shrugging off Luther’s hold, Jimbo said, “Yeah, got it, dude. Just give me a second.”

Checking his watch, Luther saw that Gaby should have reached Mort already. How long she’d remain there, he couldn’t guess. Her less favorable qualities included unpredictability.

Why he felt so drawn to her, Luther couldn’t say. But he’d laid eyes on her, and it had all been downhill since. There was some ethereal, elusive quality to Gaby that had him in a stranglehold. “I’m about out of time. Spit it out.”

Jimbo wiped his mouth again, looked around to ensure they hadn’t drawn notice, and stared up at Luther. “One of Carver’s whores gave him some lip, and he smacked her around some.”

“Gaby saw this?”

“Yeah.” Grinding pain strangled Jimbo’s laugh. “That psycho cunt didn’t like it one bit, I can tell you that. But she kept her trap shut, so Carver ignored her.”