Black On Black (Quentin Black Mystery #3) (10 page)

At the end of the day, Black saw me as his.

The idea stunned me a little.

It also turned me on, although I wasn’t sure it should.

You could ask me about the tranquilizer gun, Miriam...
 
the voice whispers. It is faint, soft. Maybe so Black won’t hear us.
Ask me what I think?

I sighed. Sometimes the presence felt like more of a child than an adult.

What’s significant about the gun?
I thought back.

More games. More wasted time. He’ll never catch your ex-lover like this. Lucky knows. Lucky knows he won’t, Miri...
 
he doesn’t want him caught. He wants him alive.

I gritted my teeth at the voice’s insistence on calling Ian my “ex-lover.”

What would you call him?
the voice sent, curious.

A psychopath,
I thought back.

I held my breath as the word got pulled apart and away by the wind. My mind coiled protectively around Black where he crouched in the dark, the stock of a tranquilizer rifle jammed up against his shoulder.

The voice watched us together.

Strangely, I felt it approve.

He’s yours too, Miriam,
he sent softly, as if hearing me.
But you have to take him back. They’ll never let him go willingly. It’s not a test Lucky wants...
 
it’s control. He wants a good little doggy and Black won’t be that. He can pretend. He can play make-believe and let’s pretend...
 
but in the end, Black’ll only get himself killed...

The voice drifted, falling into that melancholy it sometimes wore.

All of us can make sacrifices, Miriam. Black, too. But in the end, we can only be who we are. We can only be who we are in the end, Miriam...

I knew the voice was right.

I knew he was right about Black, too.

I OPENED MY eyes, staring up at a shadow-patterned ceiling.

I was in his bed, under his sheets...
 
in his room.

I wondered if I’d come here for that reason.

To try and strengthen that connection again.

I was losing him. It hadn’t happened yet, but I could feel it coming, just like the voice told me it was coming. I saw it in my mind, like a light flickering at the horizon, drawing closer whenever I looked away. They wanted to take him from me.

I didn’t know why they wanted to separate us, but I could feel that tangibly too.

In the outside world, the differences remained invisible.

In the outside world, he was still Black. I still talked to him almost every day. There was nothing I could feel on him that was different, nothing I could notice at all when he was awake. He still claimed he was just doing a time-limited contract. Six months, then he was out.

But, like the voice said in the back of my mind, I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

I knew they had no intention of really letting him go.

Black?
My jaw firmed.

I didn’t want to distract him. I knew I could be putting him in danger, given what I’d just seen, but like Black himself, I had my doubts Ian would be coming. Lucky sent him on a snipe hunt––probably just because he could, to keep Black tired and over-stressed.

I also knew this couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

Black? Are you there?
I prodded him a bit with my mind, sharper.
Hey, I need to talk to you. You there? BLACK.

I felt his presence filter around me slowly, wrapping around me, enveloping me in heat and light and affection. I also felt the caution there, and the fact that his mind remained split, still halfway focused on the floor of the cathedral below the barrel of his tranquilizer rifle.

More than that, I felt him pretending he’d been asleep, that I’d woken him up.

He did it to reassure me, I knew. He also did it to keep me from asking questions.

It didn’t reassure me though. Not even a little.

Hey baby,
he sent, his thoughts sleepy-sounding.
What’s up?

Warmth swam through me, liquid affection.

Gods, I’m hard already.
He said it teasingly, pulling on me, but I felt a flicker of truth in his words. When I didn’t answer, his thoughts sharpened.
What is it? What’s wrong, Miriam?

I fought back my reaction to feeling so much of him.

I also fought back my reaction to his blatant lie.

Shaking my head without really answering him, I stared up at the darkened ceiling, only faintly lit by the moon. I was high enough here, in his penthouse apartment, that no other buildings leaked light into where I was.

Are you at my place?
he sent.

That heat on him intensified, coiling around my body.

As I closed my eyes, letting him in, his presence turned more pulling, that longing shifting from less of a means of distracting me and more into the real thing. That warmer affection morphed into an aching kind of pain, what Black called “separation pain.”

He told me seers experienced that pain when they wanted sex.

He said sometimes it wasn’t really about sex though––it could be about affection too, or simply a desire for a more intense connection with someone, sexual or not. Kids who got separated from their parents too young got it. Siblings who lost siblings could get it, too. Close friends could get it as well, along with lovers and family.

He said it could also be a more general wanting of affection and connection and physical contact. He said sometimes it could also be very specific to a particular person.

With him and me, he admitted, it was both.

I was almost used to the sensation now.

Unlike regular physical pain, it felt more like a confused mix of pain and desire and even loneliness. Sometimes it got so bad I couldn’t eat. I remembered feeling like this when Zoe died. I remembered learning to stifle it when my parents died, too.

Whatever it was, it was getting worse lately. For me, at least.

Gods, Miri,
he sent, as if hearing me.
You have no idea how fucking badly I want to be there right now...

His words brought it back, the memory of what I’d seen, just minutes before.

Is it daytime where you are?
I asked.

Yes...
 
I saw him glance at his watch.
Eleven-thirty. Coming on noon...
 
I watched him yawn behind my eyes, knowing that was put on too, although he did feel tired, more tired than he was admitting to me.
I had a late night. Surveillance. Why?

I noted the information, even as I glanced at my own clock.

He’d never been that careless before. He really was tired.

Are you at home, in the apartment? That place with the fireplace?

Yes.
His thoughts grew wary. I felt him going over what he’d told me already, what I’d asked. His mind grew warier still.
Why?

I sighed, fingering the pendant around my neck.

You know why.
I didn’t wait for his reply, but decided to cut the crap all the way.
Look, I know where you are. I can fucking see you, Black. Right now...
 
most of the time now, if you want the truth. I see more than I’ve been telling you. I see more all the time. I feel more all the time too, and not all of it is stuff you seem to want me to know...

I hesitated again, still gripping the pendant.

I’m done. I’m not waiting anymore, okay? I can’t do this, Black. I can’t just sit here and wait for you anymore. So after today, I’m not going to. I needed you to know that.

Silence.

Real silence that time.

Images of Nick flickered through his mind. It might have made me laugh under different circumstances. Not because it was funny––I knew he was paranoid about Nick. I also knew why he was paranoid, and that it was mostly my fault.

But Nick was so far from what I’d been thinking just then, Black and I might have been in two different conversations.

I felt him taking my words, pulling them apart. I felt his fear and jealousy worsen as he tried to decide what I was really telling him.

Oh?
he sent casually.
Can you explain that, doc?

I shook my head, but not to his question.

Or maybe to the question he hadn’t asked.

Black, no.
Still tugging at the necklace, I shook my head again.
That’s not what I meant. You’re misunderstanding me...
 
relax, okay? Relax, Black.

When his wariness didn’t lessen, I opened myself to him more, pushing reassurance at him, warmth, letting him feel more of me.

He reacted to that too.

Within seconds, his presence grew hotter, sliding deeper into mine.

Gods,
he sent.
Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re not breaking up with me? This isn’t the go-fuck-yourself speech?

I smiled at the ceiling, shaking my head.

Not breaking up with you, Black.

But you’re tired of waiting?
I felt him hesitate, not sure if he should ask, or maybe what he should ask.
I don’t know how to ask this, Miri...
 
he sent, even as I thought it.
I know it’s not really my business, but––

I’m not sleeping with anyone else, Black. I’m not saying I’m about to, or threatening to...
 
so stop worrying about me like that, okay? There is no one else. I promise. You’ve misunderstood me. Completely. That’s not where this is going.

His relief intensified, enough to make me smile again, but not really in humor. I was worried he was in mortal danger and he was worried I was going to have sex with someone else.

Typical.

Miri,
he sent, pulling on me again.
Don’t tease me. Tell me what you mean.

I’m not teasing you, Black. I’m telling you I’m not waiting for you anymore. I don’t care what you say...
 
or about your overprotective bullshit. I’m not doing it.

But what does that actually mean?

I let out an incredulous snort.
What do you think it means? It means I’m coming to where you are. I’m not going to sit here and keep trying to convince you to come back. It’s obviously not working. You’re not listening to me, no matter what I say. And since none of your damned goons will help me, I’m doing it on my own.

Silence fell in the darkness between us.

Miri...
 
He hesitated, and that pain on him worsened.
Baby, I want to see you so fucking badly. You have no idea. But you can’t. You can’t come here, okay? Please. Go to Hawaii or something if you’re going stir-crazy there. You can use my money for whatever you want. Take your friends too.
He paused, his thoughts sharper.
But not Nick––

Jesus, Black, I don’t need a goddamned vacation.

Miri, you can’t come here. I’m serious. You can’t.

I shook my head.
I wasn’t asking, Black. I was telling you.