L.L. Foster - The Awakening

This time of night, only his outside window remained open for service. Gaby stepped up and tapped on the glass. The youthful worker glanced up, nodded to acknowledge her, and indicated he'd be right with her.

In no hurry, Gaby tucked her hands into her pockets and lounged back on the stone face of the restaurant. Colored strobe lights from a nearby bar blinked and hiccupped, sending random, diffused light around the area. Vehicles passed, their tires hissing on the steamy pavement. An unsettled, angry breeze continued to stir the night air.

To Gaby's right, a couple of sleazy hookers touted their wares with halfhearted enthusiasm. To her left, a group of knuckleheaded kids with absurdly colored hair and more piercings than she could count tried to act tough. She doubted they fooled anyone but themselves.

On the opposite side of the street, a blue car eased up to the curb and a gangly young man, so dark that he blended in with the night, emerged from a shadowed doorway to make a drug deal. The whores called out to the driver, trying to entice him over to them. The dealer shook a mean fist toward them, making a valid threat in the coarsest terms. The punkers cracked up, laughing too loud and too long.

This was her life, each thing familiar and mundane and easy to ignore. She blended in here.

"What can I getcha?"

Gaby turned. The waiter looked nice enough, if a little worn down. "BLT, heavy on the B. A few pickle spears and chips on the side. And a Coke."

"Got it. Be about five minutes."

"Thanks."

He had no sooner shut the window than a deep belch of thunder rambled through the night sky. Gaby shivered with dread. Maybe it was a remnant from the way her mother died that made her dread storms so much.

Whatever the cause, she detested them, not that she ever expected to admit it to anyone.

Since no one else even bothered to look up at the black, starless sky, she couldn't very well cancel her order and scurry home in a frightened rush. Besides, she was depleted and needed food. She had to—

Her reasoning failed when lightning slashed through the atmosphere, raising the fine hairs on her nape. Through sheer reaction, Gaby flattened herself to the wall. When the accompanying thunder crashed, louder this time, her heart tried to punch out of her chest.

"That'll be eight forty-eight," the worker said, and Gaby nearly jumped out of her skin.

Her face might've been blue from holding her breath when she turned to him, because he tilted his head and asked, "You okay?"

Even though prayers seldom gave the answers she wanted, they tripped through her mind. "Yeah," She took one breath, forced the scowl off her face. "I'm dandy." She pushed a ten through the window. "Keep the change."

"Hey, thanks." He handed over a white bag and a Coke. "Looks like rain, huh?"

With her thoughts on avoiding that rain, she didn't bother to answer him. She couldn't get out of there quick enough. Driven by hunger. Gaby unwrapped the sandwich and took a huge bite. Holding the bag of chips under one arm, she popped the tab on the Coke. It wasn't fun, but she intended to scarf her food as she made haste right back the way she'd come.

With her concentration on the impending storm, she almost missed the burn of intense scrutiny. But once she felt it, it sank into her bones, assuring her that someone had her in his sights.

Slowing her pace, Gaby mentally sought out the direction of her stalker.

A car pulled alongside her. Gaby glanced at the driver, but dismissed him. He wasn't a threat. Shoving another big bite in her mouth, she surreptitiously took note of her surroundings, studying everything and everyone to her left and right in quick but thorough glimpses.

She saw only stark buildings, dark shadows, familiar denizens, and empty alleys.

"Hey darlin'," the driver called out hopefully. "Where ya headed?"

"Away from you, jerk. Get lost."

"Bitch." The car sped off, leaving the scent of burned rubber behind.

An amused laugh sounded behind her.

Stopping dead in her tracks, Gaby went rigid. It might have been any number of people who'd laughed. The streets this time of night crawled with perverted souls who found humor in the most morbid things.

But somehow, she knew that laugh.

Detective Luther Cross sidled up beside her and eyed her food. "This gives new meaning to carryout."

Slowly, filled with a mystifying dread, Gaby turned her head and looked at him.

It annoyed her to realize that she hadn't done him justice in her novel. He was even bigger than she remembered.

He'd changed into jeans and a printed T-shirt that read SECRET SERVICE, and in smaller print beneath that, Your boyfriend never needs to know. The soft cotton hugged his biceps and chest, making her heart beat a little too fast in an atypical way, sort of like anxiety but not as unpleasant.

The wind had played with his blond hair, leaving it disheveled. His slow smile teased, but his dark eyes saw everything.

And something inside Gaby churned in the most erratic, unnerving way.

Too bold for his own good, he chucked her chin. "Cat got your tongue?"

Sucking in air too fast, Gaby inhaled a piece of food and started choking. To her mortification, chewed bits of bacon and toast sprayed out of her mouth to land on his shirt.

Calm personified, Cross relieved her of the food bag and coke, setting it all on the sidewalk so he could tap her between her shoulder blades. "Easy now. Small breaths."

Wheezing, Gaby snarled, " Fuck off ."

"Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Pain clenched around her heart. She got hold of herself, curled her lip, and whispered, "My mother died birthing me, asshole. Thanks for the memory."

And she stormed off, completely forgetting her food, praying he wouldn't follow.

As usual, her prayers went unanswered.

Or the answer was no. Whatever.

She had nearly reached the vacant playground near her apartment when Cross caught up with her. He kept pace at her side, carrying her food.

He peered down at her, looked away. Sighed. "I'm sorry."

Gaby had nothing more to say to him.

Three long strides later, he added, "I didn't know."

Bastard. "You don't need to know." She lengthened her stride, all but running.

He easily matched his gait to hers. "But I'd like to."

No, and no again ! "My life is none of your damn business." she exploded. "Now get lost." She started away, thinking it was no wonder she'd felt stalked. How long had Cross been observing her, and why the hell did he bother?

He stayed right with her. Humor sounded in his tone when he said, "I'm not as easy to scare off as that driver." Bordering on cheerful, he strode along with her as if invited. "Besides, I do know some things about you already."

Gaby's heart tripped, then thumped so loud in her ears it nearly drowned out the rattling thunder. Leaves and litter scuttled across the roadway, carried by the approaching storm. She kept going, one foot after the other.

But he was there, and she knew it down to the marrow of her bones. Doing her damnedest to ignore her unreasonable weather-related fears, she muttered, "You don't know shit."

"I know you have a foul mouth."

"Wow, you are astute, aren't you?" God, Gaby. Just shut up. Don't reply to him. Don't give him reason to keep replying to you .

You don't want to have to kill him.

She clamped her lips together.

"I know that you live in a dump. That you have the oddest landlord I've ever met and that you have a penchant to talk with your fists."

She tamped down the urge to tell him a few things—with her fists.

"I know you don't frighten easily, either."

No, she didn't. Despite what she'd just told herself, she heard herself say, "Huh. You learn those awesome profiling skills in fancy detective school?"