Black As Night: A Quentin Black Paranormal Mystery (Quentin Black Mystery Book 2)

by JC Andrijeski

  Black shook his head, clicking. Call Lucky. You have thirty seconds to leave that room and pick up the phone... or I fire.

  How I know you not kill me? Solonik sent.

  I don’t kill fellow seers unless I have to. You’ll just have to trust me on that.

  So what about her? Solonik cried out. Why would you kill her?

  She’s not a fucking seer, Black sent coldly. You’ve got ten seconds now, brother.

  He sent a snapshot of his hands holding the rifle, aiming down on the white SUV from the hotel window. I saw the windshield of the white car in the parking lot inside my mind, my head poking up between the seats, my face visible and recognizable.

  All right! Solonik burst out. All right! I do this! I am leaving now!

  I tensed, wondering if Black was really going to let him go.

  I knew the answer to that already, though. I knew even before I felt Black focus all of his attention back through that scope. I knew it before I felt him hold his breath, his whole concentration narrowing down to that single point through the rifle’s scope.

  He fully intended to kill Solonik.

  He’d kill him regardless of what he’d said to Anders. The whole Lucky thing had just been a ploy to get Solonik moving for the door.

  Even as I saw it––even as Black renewed his grip on the gun stock and I put the pieces together in my head––someone standing right behind us cleared their throat.

  Black and I both jumped, turning our heads.

  Neither of us moved from where we crouched on the floor.

  “Okay, Mr. Black,” a familiar voice said. The man’s gray eyes darted to me, his lips curving in a humorous smile as he gave me an open wink.

  “...You can put down the gun. We’ll take it from here.”

  16

  OUTMATCHED

  I FELT BLACK waver for a few seconds.

  I couldn’t decide if he was considering shooting Solonik, regardless of what the man standing over us said, or if he was trying to decide if he should shoot the other man first, before he went back to doing what he came here to do.

  Either way, he must have decided neither course would be wise.

  Exhaling sharply, he leaned back from his crouch even as he relaxed his hold on the gun, wincing from his shoulder as he pulled his fingers away from the trigger. He rested the stock on the hardwood floor, then held his hands up slowly, his eyes fixed warily on the man behind us.

  It was Anders, of course.

  For that reason alone, I wasn’t surprised at Black’s choice. I knew he couldn’t afford to start a war with Lucky over this, no matter how badly he wanted Solonik dead.

  Then again, it might not have been Anders at all who made up his mind.

  It might have been the presence of the other six people standing there, wearing Kevlar and aiming handguns at us in a line behind where Anders stood. I didn’t recognize any of their faces, but a few were tall enough and had strange-enough eye colors that I strongly suspected Black’s psychic tricks wouldn’t be much help.

  Anders once more cleared his throat, causing both of us to look at him.

  “Relax, Black.” He smiled, giving me another indulgent look. “Mr. Lucky has no intention of reneging on your deal. But killing Solonik wasn’t part of that.”

  “What do you intend to do with him?” Black said.

  “That’s none of your concern.”

  “The hell it isn’t––” Black began angrily, but Anders cut him off.

  “––He is being subdued as we speak,” the other man said coolly. “He will not come after you again. Not in regards to this matter. Your human friend, Kevin Lawless, is perfectly safe. So is his grandson, Pete. You have Mr. Lucky’s word on that, too.”

  Black glanced back out the window, a frown on his sculpted lips. He still held his hands off his body and in plain sight––not quite up, in the usual surrender position, but definitely conveying the same idea. I saw him glance at the gun on the floor, but he made no move to touch that either.

  “The gun stays here,” Anders said. “We’ll have it sent to you, Mr. Black. To your office in San Francisco. Certainly you can have no objection?”

  Looking up at him, Black scowled.

  “He’s a walking time bomb,” he said. He jerked his chin towards me. “He’s completely fixated on her. You know that makes him dangerous as hell.”

  “That’s our problem now, Mr. Black. Not yours.”

  “What about the killer?” Black growled. “Is he your problem too? According to your pet psychopath, it’s me he’s after.”

  “We are monitoring that situation as well,” Anders assured him, without missing a beat. “Mr. Lucky believes the current spree has ended... whatever his true motives may have been. In any case, we have it on good authority that he’s no longer in Bangkok, so your business concerning this matter is now entirely closed... at least so far as this City of Angels is concerned.”

  I pressed my lips together, glancing at Black.

  He returned my look with a frown. I could tell from his expression that he was thinking the same thing I was.

  Namely, that we had no choice.

  “Where is he now?” Black said, looking up. “Can you tell me that much, at least?”

  “Paris, I am told,” Anders said, folding his hands easily at the base of his back. “We received intelligence that he left on a plane for Paris just this morning... after ensuring that Solonik followed his instructions regarding the burning of those last two unfortunate victims.”

  Ander’s voice couldn’t have held less interest if he’d tried.

  I was surprised he didn’t yawn at the end, or maybe glance at his watch.

  Again, Black looked at me.

  Again, I had nothing for him.

  Really, it didn’t seem like there was much more to be said. Not here, anyway. Clearly they weren’t going to tell us anything. Moreover, I didn’t see how we could trust anything they told us, even if they did.

  Black seemed to feel the same way. Reaching towards me with his good arm, he took my hand firmly in his, ignoring Anders and the others as he met my gaze.

  “Let’s go home, Miri,” he said softly.

  Feeling a tightness in my chest as I studied his eyes, I only nodded.

  I followed the pull of his fingers as he rose gracefully to his feet, bringing me with him. My other hand wrapped around his where he held me, as soon as I was standing. I fought back the pain in my foot, biting my tongue as I adjusted my weight. Even so, I found myself scanning the faces of the armed men who stood there, their guns still aimed unambiguously at the two of us––but mostly at Black.

  It hit me again that we were completely outmatched.

  It wasn’t the men standing there really, or even the fact that they held guns.

  It was something else. Some feeling I got looking at them––like there was a lot more of them somewhere. A hell of a lot more than what worked out of Black’s offices in San Francisco.

  Black gripped my hand tighter, right before he began to walk.

  We walked right through that line without hesitating, but I noticed Black didn’t really look at any of the people standing there either.

  He left the rifle on the floor where he’d dropped it.

  17

  CITY OF ANGELS

  WE DIDN’T GO back to the hotel.

  Black had his phone out as soon as we got back to the SUV, calling Fah to learn the status of our flights out of there, then calling Farraday and Kiko to let them know we’d meet them at the airport.

  While he spoke to them, I saw a limousine pull up to the front of the hospital on the other side of the chain-link fence separating the parking lot of the hotel from that of the hospital. Five men in suits had hold of Solonik, who looked like he’d been knocked out in some way––either with drugs or something else.

  I watched them bundle him into the back of the limousine, trying to fight back the flush of fear that remained that he was still alive.

 
; I was still staring that way when Black took my hand again, squeezing my fingers reassuringly.

  It didn’t help much though, since I could tell he more or less felt the same way.

  He started the engine seconds later, and I forced all of that from my mind.

  I nearly dozed off on the drive to the airport, which gave me some idea of just how exhausted I was. Once we arrived, Fah took the keys of the SUV from Black when she met us on the curb. Before we even went to the ticket counter, Black took me to a small clinic inside the terminal, where my tennis shoe was basically cut off me before they cleaned off and stitched up my foot a second time. While one doctor worked on me, another cleaned, stitched up and bandaged Black’s shoulder, after making sure the bullet had exited cleanly out his back.

  They bound my foot up a lot tighter than Black had done when they finished with me. They also gave me a modified sandal and a protective sock to wear on the plane and warned me not to walk on it any more than I absolutely had to.

  They wanted me to use a wheelchair, but that’s where I drew the line.

  I just hobbled next to Black as we made our way to the international gate, using his good arm when he offered it and taking advantage of every escalator and moving walkway we came across. I felt pretty out of it for most of that, though.

  All I know is, at one point, I finally found myself sitting on a plane.

  Black dropped his considerable length down next to me, sprawled out on the first class seat, wearing mirrored shades. He’d given me the window seat, I noticed.

  Looking at him, I shook my head a little, smiling in spite of myself.

  “What?” he said, stretching out his arms. Wincing at his shoulder, he retracted them seconds later. “I thought you’d approve. Less conspicuous.” He grinned at me. “Fewer women who’ll want to jump me, as a result.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Actually your freaky eyes probably lessen that number, Black.”

  “My ‘freaky’ eyes?” He frowned. “You don’t like my eyes, doc?”

  Sighing a bit, I adjusted my body in the chair, not answering him. I had to admit, first class definitely had its perks. The seat was more like a living room recliner than the one I’d ridden in on the way out here.

  “Yeah, well,” he said, his voice more subdued. “Sorry about that. First class was booked that way. This way, it was wide open.”

  I nodded, looking out the window where the baggage workers were tossing luggage from a motorized cart onto a loading belt that disappeared inside the hold of an adjacent plane. I was still looking out when our plane began to move with a lurch.

  Then it was backing up smoothly, executing a gradual, three-point turn to aim us onto the marked stretch of concrete leading out to the runway.

  “Hey,” he said, nudging me with his arm. “You’re not going to answer? Are you trying to make me paranoid?”

  Looking up at him, I smiled. Reaching up, I took the sunglasses off him, meeting his gaze. I frowned slightly, pretending I was thinking about whether I liked them or not.

  The joke was ruined somewhat by the sadness I saw in his eyes.

  Leaning up, I kissed him instead.

  I don’t know if I’d really thought about what kind of kiss I meant it to be, but it went from affectionate to something else in a matter of seconds. His fingers wrapped into my hair when I kissed him a second time, and then he leaned over my seat, shoving the armrest up and out of the way as he slid up against me. He kissed me again, harder, wrapping his arm around my waist. The next time he kissed me I had my hands under his shirt, stroking his chest and his ribs, avoiding his hurt shoulder as I started exploring his back. Liquid pain coiled through me when he kissed me after that, and I felt that pull on both of us intensify, a feeling I definitely recognized but that felt completely different to me now.

  I wanted him. Badly enough that I couldn’t think straight.

  I wanted him to do what Solonik had done.

  He let out a low gasp. Then he kissed me harder, wrapping his hand around my thigh and pulling my leg around him.

  I don’t know how long we kissed like that, truthfully.

  I definitely lost track of the number of kisses.

  I know it felt different that time. It felt a hell of a lot different––and in ways I couldn’t really articulate to myself, maybe because I didn’t want to yet. I know it felt a lot more serious than any of the time we spent kissing when I first got to the Hanu Hotel.

  Somewhere in that, I felt my stomach drop, and realized the plane was taking off.

  Black pulled away from me briefly when it did. Pausing to caress my face with his hand, he glanced past me out the window then kissed me again. When I kissed him back, he let out another low sound, gripping my hair tighter in his fingers.

  I lost track of time again.

  I don’t know how long that interlude lasted either, but eventually someone was standing over us, clearing their throat.

  It was the second time that day.

  Black raised his head. His gold eyes shone at me, distinctly glazed, his pupils dilated. He was practically lying on me by then, but both of us still wore all of our clothes, thank goodness. Fighting not to react to the expression on his face, I looked past him, only to find Kiko standing there, one of her dark eyebrows elegantly quirked, her muscular arms folded.

  “Boss?” she said. “You got a minute?”

  I saw Black close his eyes, longer than a blink. I could feel him not wanting to turn around. Given that he had a rather impressive erection that he was currently pressing against my leg, I didn’t really want him to turn around either.

  “What?” he said, without moving.

  “You said to update you right off, if we found anything,” she said.

  “So? Speak.”

  Wondering how she was out of her seat, I noted that the “Fasten Your Seat Belts” sign was already off and glanced out the window.

  I stared down at the distant clouds, a little bewildered.

  Kiko’s voice grew abruptly businesslike. “We had Paris’s Homeland Security go through the bags of everyone who landed on every flight routed from Bangkok, like you asked. They just picked this up,” she added. “I thought you’d want to see it.”

  She held up her phone, sliding her finger across the front of the screen. Turning it around to face us, she showed us the image there.

  Black turned his head to look at it, even as I looked past him to do the same.

  An open suitcase filled the screen of her touch-phone. On top lay a Thai mask, the same one I’d seen in Solonik’s mind as he’d been describing the killer to Black.

  Black looked at me. Could be a coincidence, he sent softly.

  I gave him a skeptical look and he sighed, looking back at Kiko.

  “Did they hold him?”

  “On what?” Kiko said. “Having a mask? We didn’t have much in terms of grounds, boss. They looked for weapons and drugs. When they found nothing, they let him go.”

  Black nodded, thinking. “Do we have anyone there who can follow him?”

  “We tried. They lost him before he left the building.”

  Black frowned, glancing at me again.

  The news didn’t exactly surprise either of us. He was a seer.

  “Okay, thanks,” Black said, still looking at me. “That’s enough for now.”

  “You got it, boss,” Kiko said.

  When I glanced over his shoulder at her, she winked at me, smiling a mischievous smile.

  “...Sorry for the interruption. Carry on, sir,” she added, grinning. “I tried to wait, but it was starting to look like you two might be doing that for the rest of the flight.”

  Flushing a little, I looked up at Black.

  His expression had softened again, even before he leaned closer, kissing me on the cheek.

  I frowned a little though, studying his eyes.

  “You think it’s Ian,” I said finally. “The killer.”

  He tensed, meeting my gaze. After studying my express
ion, he sighed, nodding perceptibly. “I think it’s possible, doc.”

  “You didn’t think that before.”

  “Well, sometimes I’m wrong. It’s really fucking rare, but it does happen, Miri.”

  I could tell he was trying to coax a smile out of me, but it didn’t really work.

  “Why?” I said, biting the inside of my cheek.

  He exhaled, caressing my neck. “The mask thing,” he said, motioning towards his own face. “He seems to have some kind of thing about––”

  “That’s not what I mean,” I said, shaking my head. “Why is he doing this? Is he just batshit crazy? Or what?”

  Black clicked softly, his eyes shifting briefly towards the window. He looked back at me a few seconds later, his voice growing almost blunt.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  I didn’t believe him.

  When he bent down to kiss me again, I laid my hand on his chest, holding him back. Feeling frustration spark through him when I did it, I met his gaze.

  “You don’t know?” I said. “Really?”

  He exhaled, that frustration sharpening. “I don’t want to talk about this right now, doc,” he said. “It’s complicated. It’s not important right now... and yes, your ex is batshit crazy, which is probably the only part of your question that really matters.”

  I nodded, pursing my lips. “So we’ll talk about it later?”

  “Yes,” he said, still sounding frustrated. “Are you really not going to let me kiss you until then? Because of that murdering piece of shit?”

  I shook my head. “Not because of him. We’re kind of taking the PDA thing a bit far,” I said, glancing past him to the other passengers behind him. Seeing the puzzled look in his eyes, I clarified, “Public Display of Affection... PDA? Don’t you think we should hold off on this until we’re alone? Not on a plane in first class seats, where we’ve got a bunch of horny businessmen watching us, probably wondering if I’m a hooker?”

  Black grinned. That time it reached his eyes. “A hooker with a bandaged foot?” he said. “That would be... kinky.”

  “Black,” I warned, turning my face away when he tried to kiss me again. “I’m serious. This isn’t really the place for this.”