I barely heard him.
Stay away from Angel, I sent, sharp. Don’t read her anymore, Black.
He blinked at me in surprise.
Then he smiled, as if unable to help himself. It almost turned into a chuckle. Sending me a hard pulse of heat, he motioned with his head towards the back rooms.
Take a shower, Miri. I promise not to flirt with your friend.
That’s not funny, I sent, sharper.
His eyes locked with mine, serious. He nodded, once.
Okay, he sent only.
Forcing myself to exhale, I looked away. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.
He shook his head. Again, I felt that deadly seriousness on him. I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry, Miri. I’m sorry, okay? And I agree with you.
I wasn’t sure what that meant.
I decided not to pursue it, at least not now.
I was about to turn when he spoke in my mind again.
I want to know about this guy, doc. His thoughts grew warning. The dead one. And any other clients or ex-clients who are threatening you. That’s not a request.
I nodded, but didn’t answer. His words didn’t strike me as unreasonable though, unlike how they might have sounded to me even a few weeks ago.
When I glanced at Nick, he was frowning openly, that denser anger back in his expression. I could tell he thought me and Black were being way too obvious with the mind-reading thing.
He was probably right.
“Okay.” I looked at Angel. “I’ll go get ready.” I turned back to Nick, trying to decide if I should say something more to him too.
Nick stared back at me.
I watched his eyes go to the giant windows and the view of the city, then to a gold-inlay mixed-media wall-hanging that looked Thai, old and probably cost more than Nick made in a year, if not several years. I’d been to Nick’s apartment in South San Francisco, quite a few times. I knew he was making comparisons there, too––I could feel it without knowing any of the specifics of his actual thoughts. A cop’s salary didn’t buy much in terms of real estate, definitely not compared to someone like Black.
I could almost feel the scowl forming on his face as Nick thought about it, although again, I didn’t read him to confirm any of it.
I felt Black reacting to me staring at Nick.
The instant I felt it, I averted my gaze.
Forcing Nick from my mind, along with any lingering guilt and the fact that I needed to have a real heart-to-heart with him and soon, I retreated down the hall to Black’s bedroom and bathroom. I paused long enough to gather up the clothes in the hall as I passed, some of which were from when we’d first gotten back from the airport after Paris. When I reached Black’s bathroom, I stuffed all of it in the hamper then turned on his shower, cranking up the heat and water pressure as high as both would go.
Seconds later, I stepped under the hot stream and let out a sigh of relief.
I didn’t really want to know how long it had been since Black and I last remembered to shower. Whatever amount of time had passed, the shower managed to do what seeing my friends hadn’t––meaning, it started to clear my head a little.
Standing directly under the pounding stream from his massaging shower head, I sighed again, feeling like the water was sluicing off a whole layer of skin. I felt indescribably better, although I hadn’t been aware of being dirty until Nick pointed it out.
Fighting to keep my mind off what was happening in the other room, I left the glass-enclosed cubicle long enough to grab a comb from one of Black’s bathroom drawers. Retreating back to the shower (dripping water everywhere in the process), I used shampoo, conditioner and the comb to bring my hair back under control. Shampooing a few more times and scouring my whole body with soap, I finally exhaled for real, feeling like I’d discovered some kind of miracle cure for all of life’s problems.
I have no idea how long I was in there, but when I finally turned off the water, I felt different. I grabbed a towel off the rack but it smelled sour, so I shoved that in the hamper too, which was now overflowing. Going through cabinets, I found a clean one.
Once I was more or less dry, I also used Black’s toothbrush.
Only when I’d finished with all that did I comb out my hair for real.
In the bedroom I looked for clothes but my options were limited. Like in the hallway I gathered everything up off the floor and put that on and around the hamper in the bathroom. That left me with whatever I could find in his closet and drawers.
I’d slept here enough times while Black was still in Paris that I managed to find a pair of jeans folded and left on a shelf in his closet. I figured his maid must have found them in his hamper and sent them to the cleaners.
For shirts, I had to borrow one of Black’s. I found a dark blue dress shirt that would work well enough with jeans and threw it on. I buttoned up the front before I started rolling up the sleeves. Being bra-less didn’t thrill me, especially after I’d already caught Glen staring at my chest, but I couldn’t see that I had much choice.
I heard voices rise in the other room.
Tensing, I headed for the bedroom door while still working on the second sleeve.
As I did, Black’s voice rose above the others.
“Just stay out of it,” he growled. “It’s none of your goddamned business!”
“Like hell it isn’t!” Nick that time, even louder than Black. “I’ve known her a fuck of a lot longer than you have, you piece of shit. If you think I’m going to just sit here and let you––”
“Let me what? What is your problem with me? Besides the obvious?”
“My problem? Are you seriously asking me that right now?” Nick’s voice turned openly angry. I heard worry in it, too. “What are you doing to her? Is she on something? She disappears off the face of the earth for weeks––”
“We’ve been here! The whole time! We haven’t been hiding!”
“Bullshit!”
“You know we’ve been here!”
“How could I possibly know that?”
“You think I don’t know you put me under surveillance, ‘Nick’?” Black growled. “I saw the van. Miri did, too... even before my people told me about it. I run a damned security company. Did you seriously think we wouldn’t notice?”
Nick sounded baffled. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about...”
I entered the living room, my hands balled into fists.
The first thing I saw was Angel standing between Black and Nick, her expression alarmed. She had a hand on Black’s chest, which immediately clenched my jaw.
“You’re really going to try and pass this off as normal?” Nick again, glaring at Black as his hand swept the space of the apartment. “Like this has nothing to do with what that freak said in Paris? How stupid do you think––”
“Stop!” I shouted.
Everyone froze.
They turned as one, staring at me.
I glared at Angel. “Get your hands off him. Now.”
Angel flinched, then paled, removing her hand from Black’s chest. She didn’t take her eyes off me as she did it, and I saw her expression flash a surprised hurt, as if I’d slapped her. Black glanced down, then backed further away from Angel’s hand, as if noticing it for the first time.
“What is going on?” I was still shouting.
Nick, Angel and Glen stared at me like they didn’t recognize me.
Black walked towards me then, moving purposefully despite the gracefulness of his strides. He crossed the room in a few quick beats of my heart, and then he had his arms around me. He held me against his bare chest, squeezing me against him in a hug.
Heat pulsed off him, enveloping me.
It smoothed away that electric jolt of fury.
I immediately felt that layer of violence on me drop.
He held me a few seconds more, then kissed my neck.
I felt him wanting to kiss my mout
h. I felt him decide not to because of the others... then I felt him noticing I was clean, suddenly self-conscious about himself being not-clean. I felt him wanting to fuck in the shower, or maybe just on clean sheets in his room... a fleeting thought of calling housekeeping to get more sheets, then again a realization that I was clean and smelled really damned good and he’d better stop touching me and thinking about sex or he was going to do something really inappropriate. Then he was remembering the last time he did that, at the restaurant, what he’d said to his friend...
I felt him frown.
All of that passed between us in a confused flicker of information and emotion and affection and worry.
Then Black released me.
Immediately, I felt off-balance again.
“I’m taking a shower,” he announced, also speaking too loudly. “I’ll meet you there. At the station.”
I looked up at him, hesitating.
He sent me a reassuring pulse.
I felt his awareness that we were already making the others uncomfortable.
“It’s better if I don’t ride with him,” he added, still too loud. He’s reacting to the bond. He’s reacting to it, Miri. He’s fucking in love with you... I wish you’d told me.
Black, no. I really don’t think...
When he gave me a harder look, his mouth a flat line, I fell silent.
Then I sighed. He was right. Nick told me he was in love with me while Black was in Paris. I guess some part of me hadn’t really wanted to believe it.
Black’s jaw clenched. Enough that I knew he’d heard me.
He glared at Nick and I felt hostility expand off him in another hard jolt. It made me tense all over again. I reached for him without thought, but Black blew warmth at me, sidestepping my hands but reaching out to caress my neck with his fingers.
“...I shouldn’t ride with you either right now, doc,” he said in a lower voice. “Not until I clear my head a little. And I should do a few things before I go... make sure everyone’s still making money for me. Bark a few orders. Throw my weight around. I think there’s a new employee since I left for Paris, someone Dex hired. They could probably use a good scaring...”
I let out a short laugh in spite of myself.
I felt the tension behind Black’s casual attitude though, enough that my fists remained clenched. He didn’t really want me going with Nick without him. I also wondered about what he’d said to Nick about the surveillance van. I had noticed the van. I hadn’t known Black noticed it. I also hadn’t known that Black’s people contacted him to tell him about it.
Like Black, I’d assumed Nick was behind it. Now I wondered. I was pretty good at reading Nick, even without the psychic stuff. I was pretty sure he’d been telling the truth when he said he had no idea what Black was talking about in reference to surveillance.
Now wasn’t the time to talk about that either, though.
Kissing me a last time, Black turned towards the corridor leading to the master bedroom. I watched him until he disappeared.
Only when he was gone did I look at the others.
Seeing the glare from Nick, the lingering hurt expression from Angel and the uncomfortable darting glances from Glen, I folded my arms like nothing had happened, glaring around at all three of them as if daring them to say something.
“So?” I said. “Are we going or what?”
Three
THAT THING THAT YOU DO
THEY BROUGHT ME to a conference room instead of an official interrogation room. I would have been fine with either, truthfully––I’d spent a lot of time in the Northern Precinct’s interrogation rooms already.
Of course, I’d been there as a profiler generally, not as a witness.
Well, and the last time I’d been inside one of those rooms, it was as a suspect. Maybe that was why Nick took me into the conference room instead, with its stained Mr. Coffee, mismatched mugs, gray cloth chairs and U-shaped wood table facing white boards at the front of the room next to the rolled up projector screen.
I’d managed to get my head straight, more or less. Of course, I’d done it by clamping down on every aspect of my mind I could control and forcing it to operate within rigid lines.
I’d also talked Glen into letting me stop for a real cup of coffee.
Nick was doing most of the talking so far.
“...We’ve got some evidence this isn’t this first guy’s kill,” he was telling me. “A detective from Los Angeles called me this morning. I sent out a notice for West Coast precincts, looking for matches because the m.o. was unusual, but this guy claims he’d planned to reach out to me already. I guess he saw the story in the news and thought it might match his big unsolved. He thinks our guy might be ex-military, or possibly from some kind of merc group.” Nick grunted, glaring at me. “...Maybe your boyfriend can help us with that.”
I refused to rise. “This hit the national papers already?”
Nick shook his head. “No. And we’ve kept the details pretty tight. It wasn’t even front page here.”
I frowned. “Then how did this guy connect it to a crime in L.A.? Does he check all stories where dead bodies are tied to a pier?”
“Anything involving a sword, he tells me.”
I thought about that, but continued to frown.
“The sword was mentioned,” I said to clarify. “In the paper.” When Nick nodded, I thought about that some more then shook my head. “It’s still weird, Nick. Unless he had some reason to think a suspect was heading this way, it’s weird he found you so fast.”
Nick shrugged. “All cops have that one case. The one that keeps them up at night. From what I can tell, this is Mozar’s. But you’re right, he might not be telling me everything.”
“Mozar.” Still thinking, I nodded. “The name is familiar.”
“You’ve probably read about the case down there. They’re calling him ‘The Templar.’ Like after the Knights Templar. Some joke at the coroner’s office down there when they did the first few autopsies and determined cause of death.”
I blinked. Then my eyes widened. “Wait? The Templar? He thinks the Templar killer is here in San Francisco?”
“He thinks it’s possible, yes.”
“Why the hell would the Templar behead Jeffrey Norberg? I thought he normally went after bigger fish? Like crime lords and big-name investment bankers or whatever? Wasn’t his last big murder that Hollywood guy? The one everyone said was a pedophile?”
Nick sighed, shrugging as he wove his fingers together on the top of the table. “Mozar says he kills what his notes call ‘parasites’ or ‘vampires.’ That includes rich people. Especially ones in finance, like your pal Norberg. There’s some whole religious thing there. Bible passages. They broke into one of the rooms he was using and it was filled with pictures of angels. All kinds of religious crap. Saints. And the devil, of course...”
I frowned. “And Mozar thinks the killer’s a merc? Or used to be one?”
“He thinks he’s been trained in weapons and other martial skills to a high level,” Nick corrected. “Which could mean a merc. Or it could mean military, some kind of survivalist weirdo, a professional fighter who studied guns on the side... even a cop or someone else in law enforcement. It could mean a lot of things. Wherever the perp got his training, he may work there still, according to Mozar’s profiler. Or he might have gone off the reservation without anyone knowing about it... either because he snapped or for some looney-bird mission only he understands. Either way, he doesn’t leave evidence. Which isn’t easy to do nowadays.”
“This guy have any suspects he likes?” I glanced between Nick and Glenn. “From what I read they have nothing concrete on the identity of the Templar, but you keep saying ‘he.’ Is that just shorthand? Statistical probability? Or does he have a reason to think it’s a man?”
Nick shrugged again. “Circumstantial. Mozar told me most of the kills require a lot of physical strength. The one at the wharf did too. Of course, the killer could have a partner
. Or it might be a woman who’s into serious weightlifting. But barring those things, it’s probably a big guy doing it. Whatever their sex, if they’re working alone, they’re unusually strong.”
“This Mozar––is he coming up here?”
“This afternoon. Him and his partner.” Nick looked down at his own note pad. “...Guy named Hawking. But this is definitely Mozar’s show. He’s their hotshot down there. Brings in all kinds of outside consultants for profiling and whatever else.”
I smiled a little, not bothering to point out the irony.
Then I glanced at Glen, catching the barest hint of a frown on his full lips. It didn’t seem to be aimed at me though, or Nick.
I wondered what he thought of this Templar thing.
I also wondered if he didn’t like the idea of these L.A. cops coming up here and honing in on his case. If the Templar killer still only had documented kills in California then it wouldn’t be federal yet most likely, but if this Mozar was right, it might be heading that way.
The story had been getting a lot of airtime in the months before I’d gone to Paris.
I hadn’t kept up with it much––for obvious reasons––but I had to assume it was still big news, not just in California, but nationally.
Americans loved a serial killer.
Especially one who pretended to be a vigilante.
Especially one into weird, occult crap involving the devil and angels.
“We need to talk about Norberg, Miri,” Nick said. “Templar crackpot or no, I’ve got to run down your connection to him. Mozar asked me about him, too. He’s profiling all of the victims to try and get a handle into this guy’s psyche.”
When I glanced up, I saw Nick watching me with that sharper scrutiny in his eyes. I knew he still thought I was acting weird. I was trying hard to pretend I didn’t notice, but it made me clamp down on my mind even harder.
“Okay.” I nodded, combing my fingers through my hair. “Fire away.”
Nick nodded, leaning forward over the table.
Black Is Back (Quentin Black Mystery #4) Page 4
