Black Is Back (Quentin Black Mystery #4)

by JC Andrijeski

  As she studied the deep contentment reflected in his inhumanly perfect features, Angel found herself relaxing a little.

  Maybe Miri was just paranoid.

  Black didn’t look like a man who was going anywhere.

  Even so, Angel found herself thinking maybe she should test that theory.

  She was still thinking about that as she retreated back to the master bedroom and her bathroom to take a shower.

  WHEN ANGEL RETURNED to her living room the next time, the shower was running in her guest bathroom and the bed had been folded back into a couch. The sheets had been left in a pile inside her laundry room––Angel could see them right inside the door, just across from the guest bathroom that stood in an alcove not far from the front door.

  She wondered if they were showering together, then decided that was none of her business either. Walking into the kitchen with a sigh, she stopped short when she found herself facing that same, brightly-colored, winged dragon tattoo.

  Black glanced over his shoulder, giving her a faint smile.

  His face was bruised, like he’d been in a fight. She hadn’t seen it before because he’d been lying on the side sporting the worst of it and Miri’s head blocked the swollen jaw from view.

  Angel whistled, walking closer to where he was.

  “You owe someone money, Black?” she drawled sweetly.

  His smile slid into a broader grin.

  When he smiled like that, his whole face changed. Looking him over, shirtless, wearing nothing but black pants and those tattoos and that smile, she shook her head in spite of herself.

  Damn, he really was a good-looking man.

  Unfortunately, like most good-looking men, he definitely knew it.

  The smile left his lips, turning into a harder expression. He rolled his eyes at her a little then and held up the coffee pot.

  “You want some, right?” he grunted. “I don’t have to ask?”

  Angel laughed. “Are you blushing, Black?”

  He gave her another look, lifting an eyebrow, and Angel made up her mind, sauntering over to him with that smile still teasing her lips. Without hesitating, she smacked him on the ass with her palm. He jumped violently, looking at her in open shock.

  “Nothing like waking up with a fine piece of man-ass in my kitchen,” she said, smiling up at him. “...Especially when it’s half-naked like this.”

  She saw Black’s eyes dart to the door to the other room, right before he scowled at her.

  “Don’t do that again,” he growled, his voice low.

  She smiled, seeing the genuine anger in his eyes.

  He studied her face for a minute more, then exhaled, shaking his head. “Jesus. You might be a good friend, but you’re risking your life right now. Keep your fucking hands off me, Angel. I mean it. Whatever your reasons.”

  “Miri doesn’t trust you,” she said, blunt. “I want to know why, Black.”

  His jaw hardened. He continued to spoon coffee grounds onto the paper filter, not looking up as he measured out each one with his eyes. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “You going to cheat on her?” Angel said, pressing the point.

  “No,” he growled, giving her an angry look.

  “Have you cheated on her, Black?” Angel said, her voice more pointed.

  “No, goddamn it!” Glowering at her openly that time, he finished with the grounds and rotated the plastic filter back into place on the drip coffeemaker. Shoving the clean coffee pot onto the round burner under the filter, he turned the machine on with a flick of his thumb. Only then did he glance her way, giving her a longer stare as he backed away from the counter.

  He looked like he wanted to say something, and watching the emotions glimmer across the planes of his face, Angel wondered what it was.

  “What?” she said finally.

  “You need to get used to me,” he growled, jabbing a finger on the counter. “...In her life. You and Nick both. You need to get used to me, goddamn it. Whether you approve of me or not.”

  Angel blinked up at him in surprise.

  “And why is that?” she said, folding her arms.

  “Why do you think?” he snapped. “You’re her friends. I respect that. I don’t want to push either of you out of the way. But you need to get used to me...”

  “Do we, now?” she said drily. Still, she was amused for some reason. Maybe just by the genuineness of the frustration she could see in his expression. “And what about Miri? Does she need to just ‘get used to you’ too, Black?”

  “Yes,” he snapped, not missing a beat. “But let me handle that, goddamn it. I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust her.”

  Turning over his words, Angel nodded slowly.

  “Okay,” she said after another pause. “Fair enough.”

  She was still watching his face when he turned away from her again, muttering under his breath. He looked like he wanted to say something else when a voice rose suddenly from the entrance to the kitchen. When it did, Black exhaled, stepping back from Angel even more, so that at least three or four yards of empty space stood between them.

  He practically had his back to the wall when he stopped, which might have been funny, too, under different circumstances.

  “What’s going on?” Miri said. Her eyes and head turned, looking from one end of that empty space to the other warily. “What’s happening between you two?”

  “Your friend thinks I’m an asshole,” Black snapped.

  Angel burst out in a laugh, in spite of herself.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t, actually. I do think he’s paranoid and completely wound up right now, doc. Kinda wondering what you did to him last night.” She quirked an eyebrow at Black. “Kinda wondering about that black eye, too.”

  Miri was still looking between them, as if trying to decide how to react to whatever she could feel going on between them.

  “Can I tell them?” Black blurted, speaking only to Miri now. His voice came out harsher. “Her and Nick. Are you going to let me fucking tell them, doc? Or do you want to tell them yourself? Preferably when I’m not around so you can frame it appropriately?” His sculpted mouth twisted into a deeper scowl. “...The gods know, you wouldn’t want them to think you let it happen willingly. Would you, Miri?”

  Miriam didn’t answer.

  Angel saw her frown though, staring up at Black with a mixture of disbelief and warning in her light hazel eyes. Those eyes looked different to Angel now. Something about them had changed in the last few weeks. She tried to decide what that something was.

  Whatever it was, it was pretty clear Miri wanted him to shut up.

  After a few seconds of silence where they might have been talking to one another in that other way of theirs, Black’s scowl deepened.

  “Whatever,” he growled. “Do whatever you want, doc. You always do.”

  Without another word, he stalked out of the kitchen.

  His strides were long, feral, cat-like, gliding with that animal grace.

  A few seconds later, Angel heard the shower start up again in the guest bathroom. She glanced at Miri cautiously, right around the time the coffee pot let out its first puff of steam, a small stream of dark liquid trickling down into the bottom of the glass pot. Seconds later, the smell of brewing coffee hit the room.

  “You wanna tell me what he’s talking about, doc?” Angel said finally.

  Miri looked up, her face expressionless.

  “No,” she said, her voice soft.

  Then, while Angel still cautiously watched those light hazel eyes, Dr. Miriam Fox blushed from the roots of her dark hair all the way down her neck, turning bright crimson.

  NICK CALLED, BEFORE Black got out of the shower.

  Honestly, I was almost glad of the distraction.

  I could feel Black pulling on me, even when he showered.

  I also felt him masturbate while he was in there, which was one of the more difficult things I’ve ever had to act n
ormal through––especially considering I was sitting at Angel’s kitchen table while he did it, drinking coffee with her while she grilled me about Black.

  He was definitely thinking about me when he came.

  I slid my finger across the front of my phone as soon as I saw Nick’s name flash on my phone’s screen. I didn’t wait, but put it directly to my ear.

  “What happened?” I asked at once. “Is there another victim?”

  There was a silence. Then Nick exhaled audibly.

  “No. Not exactly... but you’d better come down here.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Stow Lake,” he said. “Right by the paddle boat place. You remember how to get to the boathouse? Take JFK to the main entrance... you can’t miss us. We’ve got the whole area cordoned off.” He paused. “Is Black back yet? In San Francisco, I mean? I got a weird call from him yesterday, telling me to put a car on you, that you were in danger...”

  I bit my lip, but fought my reaction out of my voice. “He’s back.”

  “Where? He’s not answering his phone.”

  “He’s here actually,” I said, glancing at Angel. “With me... at Angel’s. Do you want me to have him call you? He’s in the shower right now.”

  “Yeah. You’d better.” He paused again. “Miri. What the fuck happened? He sounded like he was having a panic attack... then he calls me back twenty minutes later and tells me everything’s fine, and that I shouldn’t say anything to you since he’s coming back anyway. He also told me not to worry about the car. It was a voicemail so I didn’t get a chance to talk to him about any of it, just some back-to-back messages where he sounded like a lunatic and then comes back with this ‘false alarm’ routine.” Nick paused, his voice grudging. “He doesn’t seem like the type to freak out over nothing. Did something happen?”

  I glanced at Angel again.

  I hadn’t told her any of this, either.

  After another pause, I exhaled in frustration, combing my fingers through my wet hair. “It’s not Black’s fault. I had kind of a panic moment myself yesterday... I must have scared him. I called for help... from Black, I mean. But I was totally overreacting...”

  Nick’s voice grew wary. “Overreacting to what, Miri?”

  Sighing again, I just said it. “The guy. I felt him. The Templar.”

  Silence.

  “I was in Chinatown,” I said, exhaling again. “I’d just had lunch with Lacey, and I felt him looking at me. He was following me, I think... and I don’t know, I guess I panicked. I called Black. That way, I mean... not with my phone.” I felt impatience on Nick, like he’d already figured out what I meant. “...But he never answered, and I didn’t feel the guy again, so I thought maybe I just imagined it. I thought about calling you, but what could I say? I felt a ‘presence’ watching me? I didn’t have anything concrete to give you, Nick. I tried tracking him, pretty much right after I felt him... but the guy’s a ghost. I lost him really fast.”

  The silence deepened.

  I didn’t read Nick––I never read Nick. But in this case, I didn’t have to.

  I knew him well enough to know he was about to explode.

  “Look, don’t freak out, Naoko,” I said. “If I’d felt the guy again––even for a second––I absolutely would have told you. I didn’t want to waste your time on something so flimsy, not with only one contact. I knew you were busy following real leads. I also knew you’d probably overreact if you thought the guy might be following me around, so I wanted to be sure what I was feeling was real before you wasted a bunch of resources on my funny feelings...”

  “You mean, the ‘funny feeling’ that a serial killer was stalking you, Miri? A professional killer we already know has a hard-on for you? Is that the ‘funny feeling’ you meant?” He paused, and his voice grew lower, cold as ice. “You know my favorite part of all this, Miriam? It’s the part where you took it upon yourself to try and track the fucker... alone... and I’m assuming unarmed. In Chinatown, of all places...”

  I exhaled again, glancing up when I felt Black. He stood in the doorway, his hair wet as he glared at me, buttoning up his shirt.

  “Is that Nick?” he said.

  I’d barely nodded when Black stepped forward. Moving in his usual, inhumanly fast way, he scooped the phone right out of my hand. Before I could protest, he’d already put it to his ear.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice gruff. “It’s me.”

  I could hear Nick on the other side of the phone.

  I had no idea what he’d said, but he sounded pissed as hell, and not at Black.

  “Yeah,” Black said, giving me a pointed glare before he turned his back on me, walking out of the kitchen with my phone. “...I know,” he said. “It’s fine. My people have been on her since yesterday. A car’s still outside, keeping an eye on the road...”

  He paused, as if listening to something from Nick.

  “Yeah, I know. I just called them. They haven’t seen anything. We can do shifts if you’d rather. I just thought...”

  He trailed again, and again I knew it was because Nick was talking.

  I’d stiffened at his words, though, and now I stared at his retreating back. When he didn’t spare me so much as a glance, I looked at Angel.

  “Did he really just say his people have been on me?”

  “Yup. He did.”

  “That they were here last night?”

  “Yup. He said that, too.”

  I frowned, still staring into the other room. “And you heard him just now, right? Talking to Nick, like... I don’t know... they’re best buddies all the sudden? What did I miss?”

  Angel laughed, leaning back in the chair, her arms folded, her coffee cup balanced on her arm. Shaking her head, she met my gaze, her eyes serious despite the smile on her lips.

  “Black’s trying, doc. Don’t know if you noticed, but he seems pretty determined to establish a solid place for himself in your life. Hell, maybe Nick’s even accepted the inevitable by now and he’s trying too.” Watching me with that more subtle scrutiny, she smiled wider. “Anyway, I thought you wanted us all to get along. You change your mind, doc?”

  I took another sip of my coffee, my jaw clenching slowly.

  I could still hear them talking in the other room, and now I was having trouble not eavesdropping. Was Angel right about Black? Was he playing nice with Nick because he wanted them all to get along now? Because he saw Nick as a part of my life?

  Putting that together with what we’d talked about just that morning, I felt that pain in my chest worsen. When that pain turned to a harder nausea from the nerves that washed back over me, I set down the giant orange coffee cup I held. I stared at the face of the grinning cartoon cat on the face of it, then turned, focusing on Angel with an effort.

  “Nick wants us to meet him down there now. At Stow Lake.”

  Angel tensed perceptibly. “Another victim?”

  I shook my head. “He said no. But he was being... weird. Even before I mentioned Chinatown. I have no idea what it was about, but something happened.” I hesitated, meeting her gaze. “And the Templar has that whole water, purification thing.”

  “Stow Lake is freshwater though, right?”

  I nodded slowly. “So maybe it’s a coincidence.”

  For a moment we just sat there. I realized I was listening for Black again in the other room. When I realized what I was doing, I flushed a little, glancing at Angel. She smiled at me knowingly, then shook her head, stretching as she looked out the window at the view.

  “Okay,” she said, still extending her arms overhead. “Guess I’d better get dressed.”

  Black and Nick were still talking on the phone when I skulked past him to get to the bathroom. Luckily, the hair dryer in there was loud enough that it drowned out any lingering temptation I might have had to try and eavesdrop more.

  WE LEFT ABOUT twenty minutes later.

  Angel surprised me, announcing we’d take her car for the trip to Stow Lake.

&
nbsp; I rode shotgun, mostly because Black insisted. Black climbed in directly behind me, stretching out his long legs in the limited space afforded him in the classic car. We’d only been driving a short while before he leaned forward though, and then his arm wrapped around the back of my seat and he was caressing my neck and shoulder, then massaging my arm. I fought back and forth on whether I wanted to push back on that, especially given where we were going––but in all honesty, I’d been struggling with the lack of contact too.

  I ended up leaning into his arm and palm and fingers instead.

  Angel glanced at us. When she did, I looked up at Black too, but he was staring straight ahead, through the windshield, his hand still wrapped around my shoulder but without him acknowledging it overtly, or me.

  Heat was pulsing off his fingers now though, and he’d leaned against my seat, so I could practically feel his heart beating through the space between us.

  “Are they going to follow us?” Angel asked him, meaning Black. He didn’t look over, not at either of us, so she cleared her throat. “Black? Your friends who had eyes on my place all night. They going to follow us to the scene?”

  Black gave her a brief look. Then he looked back at the road. “Should I have asked you?”

  Angel shrugged, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Next time I’ll ask.”

  She let out a half-humorous snort, rolling her eyes without taking them off the road.

  “Nice car,” he commented then, giving her a faint smile.

  That time, her eyes slide sideways towards him as she lifted an eyebrow, but when she saw his smile, she gave him a more genuine smile back, shaking her head.

  “Thanks, Quentin,” she said.

  Angel drove a mint condition, midnight blue with white racing stripes, 1970 Plymouth Hemi Barracuda. It was a vehicle I used to forget she even owned––for the longest time, she only ever rode her motorcycle to work, and kept her car safely locked in her garage.

  But something changed in the last few months. Maybe it was that she and Anthony, her on-again, off-again boyfriend of the past four years, seemed a lot more “on-again” and serious as of the last six or seven months. Because of that, they were going on a lot more road trips to Tahoe and the wine country and Big Sur, among other places.