Black Book: Black Star Security

by Cynthia Rayne

  West glanced around the room and nobody objected.

  Mack raised her hand and West ignored her.

  Annie Foster spoke up. “Look, this is my mess. I should be the one to clean it up.”

  Before she’d joined Black Star, Annie had been a federal marshal. She had long brown hair, dark eyes, and an athletic build. Quinn had escaped from her custody, along with two other prisoners. Her friend and partner had been killed during the process, and Annie had never forgiven herself.

  “No, that was an accident,” West said softly. “So, this isn’t on you.” The two of them were living together. No doubt, wedding bells would be ringing soon.

  Annie looked doubtful.

  West turned his attention to Storm. “Give it a shot.”

  Mack bristled. “But—”

  West cut her off. “I don’t think the two of you alone in a room is a great idea. We’ll figure out what John Doe is up to, and then turn him over to the feds.”

  “His name is Jonathan Quinn.” Mack tried and failed not to sound overly smug.

  Everyone raised their brows, impressed with her mad skills. He’d been interrogated by both the FBI and the cops, and they hadn’t gotten Quinn’s name. She’d asked, and he’d just told her.

  “Did he say anything else useful?” King asked.

  Mack hesitated.

  She should probably tell them about the possible threat but couldn’t bring herself to. They were already in hyper-protective mode, and this would send them over the edge.

  “No.”

  Storm narrowed his eyes. She knew he didn’t believe her. He had an uncanny ability to separate fact from fiction, sort of like a human lie detector. And right now, he suspected she was full of shit.

  Smart man.

  West clasped his hands together. “Alright. Storm is gonna get some intel out of him, and then we’ll reconvene here. In the meantime, get some breakfast, or a couple more hours of shuteye.”

  The group filed out of the room and West motioned her over.

  Crap. It was like being called into the principal’s office. Only her principal had given her a personal recommendation for college because Mack was such an excellent student and role model.

  So, no, this was way worse actually. West was clearly not pleased with her behavior.

  “What’s up, Chief?” she asked.

  His eyebrows lifted. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

  She bit the inside of her cheek. “I’m fine.” Or she would be, if they quit acting like she was a super touchy time bomb or something, ready to explode.

  West laid a hand on her shoulder. “If you need anything, I’m here. And Annie is, too.”

  Annie lingered in the doorway. A few weeks back, Annie and Mack had a big blow out about Quinn. They’d apologized to one another, but things were still off between them.

  Mack was beginning to question Quinn’s guilt. Maybe he had robbed people, but there was a reason behind it, a higher purpose.

  Or maybe I’m delusional.

  Annie stepped forward expectantly, but Mack shook her head. She wasn’t in the mood for another lecture.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got this.”

  ***

  “Hello, Quinn.”

  Quinn knew better to react to the name.

  Evidently, Mackenzie had informed the crew about his name change. He hated to say it, but part of him was hurt she’d told them. More than anything, he wanted her on his side. Quinn knew she didn’t trust him yet, but she should.

  Both their lives were in danger.

  “My name’s Travis Reynolds, but everyone calls me Storm.” Storm held out a hand, but Quinn didn’t shake it.

  “I know.”

  Storm frowned. “How do you know?”

  “You aren’t the only one who does their homework.” He grinned with a little hint of fuck you. Information on Black Star hadn’t been easy to find, but since they’d been hunting him, Quinn dug up some useful details.

  “I see.” Storm’s face was a little too serene.

  “And I want a lawyer.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t under arrest.” Storm took a seat across from him in their conference room. A few minutes ago, they’d hauled him in here and sat him down on a chair. Quinn’s hands were still cuffed behind his back.

  Hmm. How do I get out of here if I need to?

  Maybe he could get something to pick these cuffs. A paper clip? And then escape through the window. Just smash the glass with an office chair, and then dash into the woods. Yeah, that would work.

  Storm snapped his fingers. “Excuse me, are you paying attention?”

  “No, not really.”

  His lips thinned. “Why did you come here?”

  None of your damn business. “Where’s Mackenzie?”

  “Who?” Storm asked.

  “I believe y’all call her Mack.”

  “Busy,” Storm said. “Let’s start with something easier. Where are you from?”

  “Tennessee.”

  “I see. What city?”

  “A big one.”

  “Are you single? Married?”

  Quinn leaned forward. “Why? Are you gonna ask me out on a date?”

  “I’m just curious.”

  “No, you want me to start talking.”

  Quinn knew better than to fall for this trap. He’d used it on suspects before. Storm was trying to lull him into a false sense of security, so he’d open up and tell him everything.

  “Answer the question.”

  “Which one?”

  “You’re relationship status.” Storm threw up a hand, before Quinn could speak. “I’m asking for a friend.”

  Quinn leaned forward. “Mack can ask me herself.”

  Storm narrowed his eyes. “Admit it. You’ve got like three wives and a dozen children stashed away all over the country.”

  “You’ve got an active imagination.”

  “Fine, new subject. You were in Canada, right?”

  “I’m done talkin’.”

  “Why?”

  “We both know you’re gonna call the FBI as soon as you’re done with me. So, fuck off. This conversation is over.”

  And then Quinn sat back in his chair and refused to say another word.

  ***

  Mack really wanted to say, “I told you so,” but didn’t.

  They reconvened in the kitchen since the conference room was currently occupied. Storm had worked on Quinn for an hour but didn’t get any more information out of him.

  Storm shook his head. “I don’t get it. I’m excellent at getting people to open up.”

  “I don’t think so.” Zane pulled a face. Quentin Zane was six feet with a sinewy, well-developed frame. He’d wailed on the other man, nearly beating him into a bloody pulp. “You couldn’t get Ellie’s ex-boyfriend, What’s-His-Face to open up.”

  The situation had been dire. Elinor King’s ex was a domestic terrorist and he’d beaten the snot out of the guy to get a confession.

  It hadn’t been pretty either.

  Storm made a strangled sound. “Take that back. I—”

  “Enough,” West gritted out. “We ain’t got time for this crap. I’m gonna call Huck in a couple of hours and hand Quinn over to the FBI, but I wanna know the whole story before I do.”

  “This guy done pissed you off, huh?” Nox asked.

  West grunted. “He had us runnin’ all over Kentucky on a snipe hunt.”

  “Wait. We’re turning him over to the feds tomorrow?” The thought of Quinn going back to jail made her stomach hurt.

  “Mack, he’s a fugitive,” Annie said gently.

  “I know, but—”

  West laid a hand on Mack’s shoulder. “Let’s just concentrate on gettin’ him to open up first. We’ll worry about the rest later.” He turned to Storm. “What other options do we have?”

  “There are two basic ways to go about this.” Storm scratched his chin. “One, you intimidate the subject into coop
erating. You do stress poses, sleep deprivation, loud noises, and other, er, methods.”

  Everyone looked at him, all wide-eyed. And Lucy must have kicked him under the table, because Storm grunted in pain.

  “Right. Moving on. Two, you can establish a common bond and then exploit it.”

  Nox snickered. “Okay, so you’re sayin’ it has to be Mack.”

  “You could’ve listened to me an hour ago.” Mack rolled her eyes. So, it was pretty close to an “I told you so” but not quite.

  Annie frowned. “I think it’s a terrible idea.”

  King nodded. “I second that notion.”

  “Look, I don’t like it either, but I got nowhere with the man. It has to be her. She's connected to him, so half the work is already done.” Storm’s expression was grim.

  Okay, enough is enough.

  “If you'd bothered to ask, she has an opinion.”

  Their heads swiveled her way. It's almost as if everyone had forgotten she was in the room.

  West sighed. “What do you think?”

  “If we want answers, I've got the best shot at getting them.”

  And maybe, just maybe I want to be alone with him. Mack tried desperately to squash the little voice inside. Somehow, she couldn’t.

  West mulled it over a moment. She held her breath waiting.

  “Agreed, but we’re gonna monitor the conversation.”

  “What? I don’t need an electronic babysitter.”

  “Yeah, you do.” King glanced at Mack and she could practically see the guilt shining in his eyes. “Chief, there’s somethin’ we haven’t told you.”

  No, don’t do this to me. Mack silently pleaded with her eyes.

  King went right on ahead. “Mack’s been communicatin’ with Quinn. He sent her the fancy watch she’s wearin’ and they’ve been textin’ too.”

  Mack bit the inside of her cheek.

  West’s face was thunderous. “What? You’ve been aidin’ and abettin’ a fugitive?”

  Mack winced. “No, we’ve just been talking.”

  Her thoughts flashed back to sitting in the human resources office, as she was asked a long list of humiliating questions about the intimate relationship she had with her boss.

  “I doubt the court would see it that way.” West surveyed all their faces, staring at them hard. “And y’all knew about this, but kept it from me?”

  “We’re sorry, Chief,” Storm said.

  “I don’t even know what to say.” West ran a hand down his face. “Mack, we’ll talk about this later.”

  “Yes, Chief,” she whispered. Once again, she felt shamed, and small.

  “For now, let’s focus on Quinn.” West scowled. “And we’ll definitely be listenin’ in.”

  “Understood.” Mack turned to Storm. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to play good cop. Take him some food and water, talk to him. “And uh,” Storm cleared his throat. “Maybe flirt with him a little?”

  Everyone stared at her and Mack buried her head in her hands.

  God help me.

  Chapter 4

  Here goes nothing.

  Mack opened the conference room door to find Quinn sitting in the chair. When he noticed her, his eyes widened.

  “Hi there.” Mack didn’t know what else to say. She felt like an idiot around him. Forming full sentences and acting normal was impossible.

  “What’s goin’ on?”

  “We’re gonna have a conversation, you and me.” And everyone else will be eavesdropping. “Come on.”

  “I could use some help here.” His hands were still cuffed, and he lifted them a little to show her. “My balance is off.”

  “Sure, right.” Mack laid a hand on his shoulder to steady Quinn while he stood. They both sucked in a breath at the contact.

  “Are you gift-wrappin’ me for the FBI?” he asked.

  “Not now.” And then she realized she was still touching him, so Mack let go. “Come with me.”

  “Where to?”

  “Our holding cell.”

  He shook his head. “I swore I'd never set a foot in a cell again.”

  And for some reason, Mack felt bad. She shouldn’t. He was a fugitive who’d slipped through their fingers and she shouldn’t have any qualms about locking him up.

  And yet, she did.

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you roam around.”

  Mack didn't know how he'd survived. Federal prison was no joke. All of his movements would’ve been tightly controlled. The loss of freedom must’ve been excruciating.

  “Think about it. I showed up on your doorstep, so y’all didn’t have to hunt me down. I’m not a flight risk.”

  “I wish I could believe you, and I promise it’s only temporary.”

  “Until I get taken to a real prison?”

  “I can’t predict the future. I don’t know what’s going to happen.” It was an evasion, and they both knew it, but Quinn didn’t call her on it.

  “Okay then, but I want you to understand something.”

  “What?”

  “I'm placing myself in your custody, not theirs. I trust you.”

  For some reason, the words made her shiver.

  She didn't know what to think. Was he trying to forge a bond with her, so he could play her later? Or was he telling the truth? It was difficult to tell, and he’d fooled hundreds of people. Chances are, he was an accomplished liar. Her attraction to him didn't help matters. Mack wasn't able to separate her feelings from the equation.

  Maybe because you’ve been ignoring your social life. If you had a real boyfriend this wouldn’t be an issue.

  Lately, she’d been all work and no play. Back in the day, when she’d been a fed, Mack was a dating machine. Since she worked in the intelligence community, her workplace had been a real sausage fest, so there’d been plenty of opportunities.

  Until Harold.

  Shaking off the unwanted thoughts, Mack led him down the hall until they stopped at the armory. Across from it, was a small cell, in case they ran into someone they needed to detain. There was a keypad on the handle and Mack punched in the access code.

  The door swung open to reveal a steel bed, with a thin foam mattress, which had been bolted to the floor. The only other furniture in the room was a metal toilet in the corner.

  Quinn surveyed the space. “Cozy.”

  “Yeah.” Mack winced. “Here, let me take the cuffs off.” It’s not like he could go anywhere. She reached over and unlocked them and stuffed the manacles in her back pocket. “I have to pat you down to make sure you don’t have any contraband.”

  “Your friend, Lucy, already took care of it.”

  “Better safe than...”

  “Fine, if you wanna touch me, have at it.” Quinn obliged her, holding his arms out to the side and widening his stance. His eyes locked on hers, and somehow this felt like a challenge, a dare.

  Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve done this hundreds of times.

  “I don’t want to touch you, this is just a routine procedure.”

  He flashed a knowing grin. “Of course. It’s purely professional.”

  What a dick.

  Ugh. Bad choice of words.

  She carefully felt every single inch of him, each muscle, the coarse hair over the smooth skin on his arms. As though they had minds of their own, Mack’s fingertips slipped between the buttons on his shirt as she examined the length of his chest.

  Aren’t you supposed to be searching for weapons? Instead, she seemed to be copping a feel. Mack suddenly realized she was holding her breath.

  And Quinn made a ragged noise, somewhere between a moan and groan.

  She could almost feel it. A honeyed warmth flowed through her veins, as though she were melting, yielding. Mack had to take a moment to pull herself together. It’s like her rational mind went on vacation.

  Yeah, to Sex Town.

  Stop it. Focus.

  His legs bunched as she brushed the
length of them and when she examined his inner thighs, he hissed at the contact. Mack made quick work of the rest, eager to finish.

  “I need to make sure you're not a danger to yourself or anyone else. So, the shoelaces have to go.” She’d actually seen a prisoner hang himself with them, out of desperation.

  “Fine by me.” Quinn toed out of the shoes. He wore white athletic socks. She unthreaded the laces and he placed the shoes beneath the bunk. They’d slip off his feet, without the laces holding them in place.

  Mack stood. “Please remove your belt.”

  He smirked. “Why don't you do it for me?”

  Quinn was right. She should remove the belt herself and check it for any possible contraband like she’d do with any other inmate. But touching the man was risky.

  “Fine. Keep your arms raised.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The words were polite, but his nostrils flared. There was a thick, fog-like tension in the room.

  It was ridiculously intimate, unbuckling his belt and tugging it from the loops. Undressing Quinn, Mack tried to keep her touch cool and professional, but it was impossible not to think about unzipping other things.

  Dammit! Stop it, Mack.

  I need a breather.

  If she stayed in this room any longer, Mack might do something stupid. Er. Yeah, stupider. Hadn’t Storm mentioned getting Quinn some food? Playing the good cop? The gang wouldn’t be listening in until she’d lock the doors. Then they would file into the hallway, and flip on the intercom system.

  When they did, Mack wanted to be calm, cool, and collected.

  “You’re all squared away, and I should go.” Mack backed away, ready to bolt.

  Quinn sat on the bed. “Why?”

  “Are you hungry? I could use some breakfast.”

  “I could eat, but you seem awfully jumpy. Are you afraid to be alone with me?”

  The nerve! And just like that, he flipped the bitch switch. Every woman has one and hers had a hair trigger.

  “Fuck you.”

  His eyes turned molten.

  She gasped. Oh no. This would’ve been so much easier if he’d gotten angry instead.

  “Anytime you like, any way you like.”

  “I wasn't coming on to you,” Mack snapped.