Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5)

by Andrijeski, JC

  “Why are we going to L.A.?” I said, frowning. “It’s work-related, right? If Nick called you, it has to be. Is Mozar involved?”

  He only grinned wider, revving the engine again. “Get in the car, Miriam... get in the car... get in the car... or I’m going to punish you tonight...”

  Sighing in defeat, I slid into the seat next to his. He spoke a voice command to lower the door. When it lowered and clicked back into place, I gave him another disbelieving look.

  “What the hell is this thing?” I said. “A Lamborghini?”

  He looked deeply offended, peering at me over the shades a second time with his tiger-like gold eyes. “Fuck no. Lamborghini? Jesus, Miriam. It’s a McLaren Spider.”

  “Is that better or something?”

  He rolled his eyes, like I’d just spoken some form of blasphemy against his personal brand of car porn. When he glanced up at Angel, his eyes still reflected that disbelief.

  “Will you please educate my wife about automobiles when we get back, Angel? Jesus. It’s embarrassing. Maybe I should take you to L.A... the gods know she won’t fit in down there if she’s not willing to piss in a few pools and be arrogant about cars.”

  I flinched at little at the wife thing... then scowled.

  “Don’t get me in trouble, Quentin,” Angel shot back, aiming a finger at him. “Last warning.”

  I glanced at her, and she snorted another laugh, shaking her head.

  “And don’t kill my best friend with your crazy driving,” she added, still talking to Black. “Or I really will come after you.”

  Giving us both a final wave, more of a dismissal or maybe a “you’re both insane” gesture that time, she turned on her heel and headed back inside the police station, her motorcycle keys jangling in one hand.

  When I looked back at Black, I saw from the direction his sunglasses tilted that he was looking me over in the skirt suit I wore. Feeling heat emanating off him as he stared, I scowled, pushing at his chest with one hand.

  “Why are we driving?” I said. “And what’s in L.A.? Are you going to tell me?”

  Black had his own plane. He also had at least two helicopters I’d seen. Driving to L.A. was definitely going the long way for him, even in a car like this.

  “I wanted to. Drive, that is.” When his gaze tilted back up, his eyes were erased by the mirrored shades. “That okay?”

  Clicking on my seatbelt, I nodded, but I was still puzzled.

  “And my other question?” I said, sighing. “About what’s in Los Angeles?”

  “Palm trees. Beach. Bikinis. Assholes like me in disgustingly expensive cars.” He glanced at me, still inscrutable behind the shades. “...Also police. And F.B.I. And did I mention bikinis? I told Kiko to pack at least two for you... maybe three, I don’t remember.”

  “Do I even want to know? About the police thing, I mean...” I shoved his hand off when he rested it on my thigh.

  “Probably not.” He flashed that killer smile at me again. “Come on! Road trip.” He grinned wider. “We’ll get tacos. On me.”

  WHICH BROUGHT US to where we were now, approaching the outskirts of Los Banos, California, doing about 130 mph, if I was reading the speedometer correctly.

  “Police, huh?” I said, as we flashed past the last Los Banos exit and entered the blank stretch of no man’s land between there and Bakersfield. “F.B.I.? I don’t suppose you’re going to enlighten me on any of the details?”

  He flashed me another smile. “You don’t say a word to me for over an hour, and this is the first thing out of your mouth?” That time, he patted his own thigh. “Come here and motivate me to talk. Or at least motivate me to drive faster.”

  I sighed. “Am I going to have to call Nick? Really?”

  Black shrugged, focusing back on the road. “Go ahead.”

  Biting my lip, I decided to call his bluff. Without thinking, I unbuckled my seat belt and slid over to his side of the car. Once there, I promptly began going through his pockets, looking for his phone. He writhed under my hands, but didn’t fight me, or even try to obstruct me really.

  “Jesus, you’re giving me a hard-on...”

  “Where is it?” I said, looking up at him. “Nick won’t answer if he knows why I’m calling. Give me your damned phone, Quentin.”

  He was breathing harder, which was distracting as hell. I saw him pause at my question, could nearly feel the wheels turning as he thought about whether he should try to dissuade me or not. I also felt him thinking about sex. I felt that part tangibly, even though he wasn’t looking at me, but at the road. I also felt when he made himself let that go.

  Still watching the road, he sat up slightly, reaching into his back pocket. After shoving a hand in, he extracted his phone, handing it to me with a faint smile.

  “All you had to do is ask, doc.”

  “Do I need a password?”

  “Miriam-dash-Black,” he said. “All caps.”

  I gave him a disbelieving look, then felt my face flush warmer. Ignoring his grin, I unlocked his phone using “MIRIAM-BLACK” then scrolled through his contacts to find Nick.

  He picked up on the first ring.

  “Black? Are you down there already?”

  “No, he’s not. What’s going on, Nick? Is this about Mozar?”

  There was a silence.

  “Well, hello to you too, Miriam. Why are you using Black’s phone?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t answer mine.”

  Pausing a bare second at his silence, I frowned.

  “We’re driving.” I glanced at Black. He didn’t look over, although I could definitely feel him listening. “Heading for L.A. Well... according to Black we are. That’s pretty much all he’s told me.” At Nick’s continued silence, I sharpened my voice. “I’m serious, Nick. He’s still technically in recovery. And I don’t trust Mozar. Did he ask for Black specifically? Or was this your idea? And how is the F.B.I. involved?”

  Nick sighed, loudly enough that I could hear it even with the wind in my ears as Black darted through sparse traffic in the low-to-the-ground car. It felt a bit like gliding on an air pocket, but that time, I didn’t look at the speedometer to see how fast he was going.

  Given how he used his psychic ability, I highly doubted he’d even have to talk himself out of a ticket, much less pay for one... even if he managed to break the sound barrier.

  “Black told me he was fine,” Nick said, his voice stiff. “It’s been months since he got shot and Black recovers... fast. Definitely faster than regular people. And yes, he told me not to call you. He said you wouldn’t be reasonable about it. I guess he was right.”

  I felt my jaw harden more.

  “Well, you know us women,” I said coldly.

  “Miri, don’t be like that. They need him down there. It’s a high profile case, and there’s a Spec Ops component, or Hawking thinks so. It’s also a potentially big bust, if it turns out the murder is connected to a larger case the F.B.I. and Homeland Security are working on. And yeah, Mozar asked if I would recommend Black to help them out. I said yes.”

  “Why, Nick?” I said. “Why did you do that?”

  “Why?” Nick snorted. “Because the crazy fucker is actually useful when he sets his mind to something... and this is an area he knows a lot about.”

  “Who got killed?”

  “The Russian Ambassador to the United States. There was some fancy private party and movie screening at the old Los Angeles Theater, which they rented out and decked to the nines. A lot of big names were there... movie people, the mayor of Los Angeles, a whole load of rich people from wherever... and a few diplomats, including the vic. They found him in the alley out back, killed execution-style. Looks like a hired gig.”

  “Archangel?” I said, again through gritted teeth.

  “No idea. Look, Miri, calm down, okay? Black was good with this. And Mozar wants his help because he’s ambitious and the Feds have eyes on the case. Mozar’s heading up the murder, but the F.B.I. thinks it might be
connected to some foreign-based organized crime case they’ve been working for the past year. With the vic being a diplomat there are foreign policy ramifications, too. You’ll likely have State Department people there...”

  “Do I have to spell it out for you?” My voice grew a few shades colder. “What if it is Archangel? This will be twice that Black’s poked around their operatives, and they’re a damned hit squad. And did you forget Lucky’s based out of Moscow? Black’s not going to be particularly ‘useful’ there if it’s him...”

  “Someone was murdered, Miri. You want to stop investigating crimes because they might be inconvenient for your Uncle Lucky?”

  “It’s not Charles I’m worried about!” I snapped. Glancing at Black, I lowered my voice to a grumble. “Black says he’s not going after Lucky’s people, anyway. Not now.”

  “Because Lucky helped him out when he got shot?” Nick said.

  I shook my head. “No. Because Lucky’s my uncle. Black has these weird-ass ideas about seer family loyalty... especially older seer family members. He sees Lucky as the head of my family now, so more like a relative.”

  “Because he is a relative,” Black muttered.

  I gave Black a warning look, even as Nick exhaled in annoyance.

  “What the hell does that mean? Like a fucking seer mafia or something? So your uncle’s off the hook for drug dealing and human trafficking, just because he’s an in-law?”

  “Ask him. How the hell would I be able to decipher Black-brain?”

  Black turned his head slowly, giving me a faintly offended look.

  I ignored it, or tried to.

  “Well, whatever,” Nick said, still sounding annoyed. “It’s irrelevant for this case anyway. Black said this wasn’t Lucky, so he must have talked to him already. Also, the F.B.I. thinks these jokers are out of the Ukraine, according to Mozar... or maybe Western Europe... but not Moscow. And...” he added, sharper. “...By the way, I talked this over with Black already. I wasn’t aware I needed your permission to throw him consulting gigs, Miriam.”

  “Oh. I see. You don’t need my permission to hire him... but it’s perfectly okay for the two of you to conspire to not tell me about it. That’s just you being objective, right, Naoko? Or does that fall under ‘guy code’ or the ‘all women are crazy’ code?”

  After a longish pause, Nick sighed again.

  The next time he spoke, his voice was lower, and a lot more serious.

  “Look, Miriam. I know you’re not over Black being shot. He knows it, too. We both figured it was better to just move forward with it and let you get used to the idea while he’s on the job.”

  My jaw dropped.

  Before I could reply, Nick kept talking.

  “...From a case perspective, we also both figured it was better for Black to be involved personally than to let your uncle handle it, since we all know how that might turn out.”

  Nick lowered his voice still more, like he was somewhere he didn’t want to be overheard.

  “Miri, I talked to Hawking. He said there are none of the trademark ‘Archangel’ things. No weird symbols or beheadings. I even asked him about that group you contacted when Black was in Paris. You know. That guy, Alexei? The one who was way too interested in you...?”

  Next to me, Black stiffened.

  “...The point is,” Nick said. “It all came up a big, fat donut-hole. I don’t think there’s any connection between Black and this outfit, unless he knows the actual contractor.”

  Black continued to stare at me. “Alexei?” he mouthed. “What the fuck?”

  I’d known he was eavesdropping, but I gave him a pointed frown, anyway.

  Black had fewer ethical boundaries when it came to reading people.

  Like, zero, as far as I could tell.

  Nick was still talking. “...I’m telling you, you need to relax about this, Miri. Seriously. It looks like the hit was ordered by people who don’t know Black from a hole in the wall. And solving the murder could give Mozar a gold star with the F.B.I., so he’s liable to be a lot more friendly if Black helps him out.”

  I frowned, again glancing at Black.

  I could feel him gauging my reaction to Nick’s words.

  He and Nick really had talked this over, meaning how to handle the me side of this. Black really was worried about me freaking out.

  Nick continued, “...Hawking said the F.B.I. has been pretty close-mouthed, but he thinks it might be a turf war between two rival groups. There were rumblings via his own contacts that the Ambassador had ties to a specific crime family––mostly drugs and illegal artifacts, but they’ve expanded to contract hacking, weapons, online gambling and a bunch of other things, including human trafficking and trafficking in exotic animals. Hawking heard another group might be looking to replace the Ambassador with someone more friendly to them.”

  Nick exhaled again, his frustration audible, if now mixed with defensiveness.

  “Either way, Black’s a grown man, Miri. He’s not going to stop working just because you have issues from what some psycho did to him. He’s stayed out of the game long enough, and he hasn’t said it, but I know he did that for you.”

  I fought back my anger even as Nick’s voice grew more sympathetic.

  “...Look, I get it. But the only way you’re going to get over this is if you let him get back to work. Black knows it. In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s why he wanted you down there with him...”

  “Not the only reason,” Black said, giving me a faint smile, and raising his eyebrows suggestively.

  I bit my lip, feeling my anger darken at Nick’s words and Black’s flip attitude.

  I also couldn’t help hearing the truth there. Or be embarrassed.

  I knew they were right. Both of them were right, and I might have done the same thing in their shoes, if someone I knew was having the types of psychological reactions I was to Black being in the line of fire.

  I still felt ganged up on.

  Looking at the profile of my sort-of husband, Quentin Rayne Black, who was clearly having way too much fun driving his new toy, I fought to sort out my conflicted feelings. Ignoring my usual reactions to him, I tried to assess his physical condition objectively.

  But I already knew the answer to that question, too.

  Black was fine.

  I just wasn’t sure I was. Not after seeing him go down right in front of me via a bullseye shot by a professional sniper––a shot that would have killed him instantly if he’d been human.

  “I don’t know.” Realizing I hadn’t stopped staring at Black, I turned to face the road. “Doesn’t Mozar have some kind of agenda with Black still? Do you really think we can trust him? Or is this just an excuse for Mozar to try and get closer to him in some way?”

  “It might be. Or it could be a peace offering, Miri.” Nick’s voice came across as impatient, but I felt a faint flavor of his cynicism towards Mozar, too. “I’ve been talking Black up to him, telling him that his team has been pretty invaluable for the last few big department cases we’ve had. I know Black’s pretty ambivalent about doing contract work for the police...”

  I grunted. “Yeah, no comment.”

  “Is it the money? I could probably get him more.”

  I bit my lip, combing my fingers through my hair, which was surprisingly tame given the car’s open top. I shook my head. “You need to talk to Black about that. I’m not his agent, Nick.”

  “Just his bodyguard?” Nick grunted. “Why aren’t you asking him about this, anyway? Didn’t you say you were driving down there?”

  “He’s driving.”

  “He can’t talk and drive?”

  “Not the way he drives.”

  I heard Nick grunt, and practically saw him roll his eyes. “Put the fucker on. I’m not taking the heat for this, not alone.”

  “You did this to yourself, Naoko.”

  “Put him on the phone, Miriam.”

  I stretched my hand out with the phone, offering it in Black’s directio
n. My eyes followed his arm and hand as he downshifted, sliding the convertible behind a very tall-looking white SUV. Settling behind the other car with a smooth turn of the wheel, he slowed down. I felt more of that heat coming off him when I continued to look at him.

  Fighting back my reaction, I motioned with my hand holding the phone. “Nick.” I forced my eyes back to his mirrored shades. “...For you.”

  He grinned, ignoring the phone when he leaned towards me, kissing my neck.

  “Stop flirting with me, doc,” he murmured in my ear. “Or I’m going to pull over.”

  I pushed him back, but felt myself react to that denser pulse of heat.

  “Watch the road,” I said. “And stop avoiding. I think Nick wants to chew you out for making him explain your crazy bullshit to me.”

  Clicking under his breath, Black rolled his eyes, then motioned towards the glove box.

  “Get the earpiece for me, would you? I don’t think the steering wheel speakers are going to like the open top much.”

  He scooped the phone out of my hand, placing it on the console between the seats and hitting a few buttons to engage the hands-free. When I handed the earpiece to him after rifling through his glove box, he fitted it over his ear, then wrapped his newly-freed hand around mine, tugging it into his lap.

  Before he hit on the phone, he leaned his mouth towards my ear again.

  “You can be as psycho overprotective as you want, ilya... no complaints here. Not a one.”

  When I let out an involuntary snort, he kissed me, on the mouth that time. He released me a few seconds later, but I didn’t move away, maybe partly because I felt him wanting me to stay. Before he clicked on with Nick, I bit my lip, then said it anyway.

  “Tell him if I read anything fucked up off Mozar, we’re not staying.”

  He grinned wider.

  “I mean it,” I said, sharper.

  “Oh, I know you do.” He winked at me. “And I fully plan to reward you later, doc.”

  My jaw clenched harder. “Stop getting off on the fact that I’m worried about you and hear my actual words. You don’t need the money. And it’s Mozar, for crying out loud. Remember Mozar? We don’t like Mozar.”