The hell she would. "Don't give me orders."
He eyed her. "Are you pissed for any particular reason, or just as a way of life?"
Damn it. She hadn't been pissed. Not until she saw the woman with him. And the cross.
But mostly the woman.
Not that she'd ever tell him so. If she did, she'd really feel like a moron.
Changing the subject from her mood to his bling seemed a good idea. "That's nothing more than an icon, you know. It's not going to ward off evil."
"It was a gift from my grandmother, who has since passed away. I loved her, so I wear it."
How dare he continue to sound so levelheaded and calm in the face of her growing ire? "That's all there is to it?"
"I'm not worried about vampires, if that's what you mean."
Her shoulders straightened, but still she felt about two feet tall. "Sorry."
"Wow." A smile teased his firm mouth. "You almost said that like you meant it."
Pressing her fingers under her sunglasses, Gaby rubbed at her eyes. "Look, I didn't hunt you down to argue with you."
"Could have fooled me." He slung the towel around his neck, "How did you hunt me down?"
"I went to the station, and was told it was your day off. I asked if anyone knew where I could find you, and someone sitting in there—not a cop, but someone else—"
"Gary Webb? Twenty-one-year-old kid with too much energy?"
"Maybe. He told me to check here."
"All right. And you hunted me down because… ?"
Gaby looked around the area. "Is there someplace I can buy you a Coke?"
"No." He folded his arms over his chest. "But I can buy you one if you feel like walking a block."
"I can walk."
In strained and silent agreement, she went with Luther to his car where he stowed the towel and then dug out a white T-shirt and slipped it on. He finger-combed his sweaty hair away from his face and retrieved his sunglasses. "Ready?"
"Sure." They started down the street.
At a convenience store, he went inside, and Gaby followed. There was no air conditioning, but a squeaky fan stirred the humid air, offering a modicum of relief.
"Get what you want," he told her, so she chose a cola and a candy bar. He grabbed a sport drink and two traveler's packs of aspirin.
"Head still hurting?"
"A little. I'm fine." But he opened both packs and popped them into his mouth, washing them down with the cold green drink.
"You were probably supposed to take it easy today, huh?"
"I had other things to do besides taking it easy." He paid and they went back outside. "This way."
There were no benches nearby, so he led her to a grassy spot beneath a tree, and together they sat.
With each passing second, Gaby felt more like an idiot. The man had barely had time to sleep, much less do as she'd asked. And he was hurt, so probably shouldn't have done anything at all anyway.
Luther stared at her, waiting.
"I wanted to talk to you for a couple of reasons. I was going to tell you how I cut my arm—"
"Let's start with that."
She shook her head. "In a minute." She indulged in a long drink of her cold soda, and then on impulse she stretched out on her back in the grass. "I guess you've been too laid up to check into the hospital stuff like I asked, huh?"
He stretched out too, but on his side, propping himself up on an elbow so he could watch her. "Actually, I did that before I left the hospital."
She turned her head toward him. "Really?" Wow, so maybe he'd listened to her after all.
"They've lost twenty patients over the last two years."
"Is that a lot?"
"Not according to them. Not for the cancer ward."
Gaby put an arm behind her head and stared up at the sky. "Doctors usually visit more than one hospital. Check the other ones that Dr. Marton goes to, too."
"Okay."
She scrutinized him. "Did you check on that place where the indigent patients go?"
"I got an address, but I haven't been there yet. I did some research, though, and nothing fishy turned up."
Gaby nodded. "Visit it anyway."
"I planned to."
He was so agreeable, so easy, that somehow the words just slipped out. "I stabbed a man last night."
In the middle of taking another drink, Luther halted. He didn't blink. He didn't say anything. He just froze.
Gaby rolled her lips in, worked the words around in her mind, and then plunged on. "He'll live, I think. Without giving my name, I called the cops so they could take him to a hospital or whatever. You'll probably hear about it at the station, and I didn't want you to start suspecting me of anything."
Plus she figured half-truths would throw him off a more dangerous course of supposition. And she had some questions for him, questions that Mort had refused to answer.
Still Luther said nothing.
His silence spurred her to say more. "See, Mort and I were out and about… just walking. He was sort of shook up after that blood in the stairwell and even after we cleaned it, the smell was awful, so we took in some fresh air." She'd already cued Mort, and if Luther questioned him, he damn well better lie convincingly.
"When we were heading home, we saw this man assaulting a girl in an alley."
"A hooker?"
Gaby gave him a sharp look. "Does it matter?"
"Not to me. But I want details."
After taking off her sunglasses, Gaby turned her face toward Luther. "She might have been a hooker, but she was still a kid and the guy was forcing her."
"And?"
"I stopped him."
Luther sat the sport drink aside. "With your knife?"
She nodded. "I told him if he ever hurt her again, I'd castrate him."
Small muscles flexed in Luther's face, taking him from fear to anger to rage and back again. "Where did you stab him, Gaby?"
"In the shoulder. I threw my knife first, to stop him." She felt compelled to honesty. "I have very good aim."
A big breath expanded Luther's already impressive chest.
"But then he tried to charge me, so I sort of pulled it out of him and put it to his balls and told him what would happen if he didn't change his ways."
Luther twitched.
Gaby felt the need to rush through the rest of her explanation. "He was making her do stuff to him, Luther. Really ugly stuff. She was crying and she was sort of beat up—"
"Where is she now?"
That his first thought would be concern for the girl warmed Gaby. More than ever, she saw the white aura surrounding him. "I don't know. She ran off after I stopped the attack."
Luther fell to his back. "I don't fucking believe this."
"I didn't tell the cops who I am and I don't think that guy will, either."
"If he lived."
"Well, yeah. But I think he will. I mean, sure, he was bleeding a lot and everything, but it was just a shoulder wound."
"Unless you nicked something else."
Did he have to sound so morbid? "I guess."
"I'll ask around about the incident. I can find out who was on call last night, see how the man fared after your unique sense of justice."
Gaby didn't like the accusation in his tone. "He deserved it, Luther."
"From what you said, I'm sure he did. But you should have called the police, not taken it on yourself to deal with him."
"By the time the cops got there, who knows what else he might have done to that poor girl?"
"Who knows what he might have done to you, Gaby, if your aim had faltered a little. Did you ever think of that?"
"No, because my aim doesn't falter."
He muttered several steaming curses before saying, "I can't believe you're bragging about this."
He looked really put out, ready to shut down on her, but tough. She had questions and he most likely had answers. Mort sure as hell hadn't wanted to talk to her about it. "I suppose now isn't a very good time to ask you stuff?"