Black On Black (Quentin Black Mystery #3) (31 page)

I looked up at Black, found his gold eyes on me already.

“Is there no way you could protect anyone else coming in here?” I said. “I’m not sure all of us can move fast enough to get out.” I jerked my chin towards the emergency exit. “That’s in his line of fire now. He’d cut us down if we tried to get to it.”

Black frowned in thought.

Watching him, internally I sighed in relief. I was relieved to see him thinking again––about something other than Nick––no matter what he said next.

“I’d lose my hold on these two,” he said.

“For how long?”

“However long I was shielding the other person.” His eyes returned to mine. “There are two factors. Angel and Nick are physically close. Even just having Angel here, next to us, makes it easier for me to hold both of them. It was harder when she was at the wall, shooting.”

I nodded. “What’s the other thing?”

“I know them.” At Nick’s grunt, Black gave him a brief glare before looking back at me. “I know them through you, Miriam. I’m familiar with their light. I won’t know whoever Nick wants to bring into this. I’d probably be able to track them through Nick, but being a secondary connection, it won’t be as strong. Not strong enough to shield them. Not here.”

I bit my lip, nodding as I thought.

I knew by “here” he meant this version of Earth, so presumably he could have done it in his home dimension. I still didn’t know what he meant by
light
exactly, or the whole logistics behind tracking, but it was language I was familiar enough with by now that I sort of got the idea. Light seemed to be similar to a person’s flavor, like their specific psychic “frequency.” I knew there was a lot more to it than that, but it was enough for me to work with for the moment.

“I think we’re going to need it, Miri,” Black said.

When I glanced up, he motioned towards my boot. “On the door. It should be enough cover to get us through.”

I glanced up at the
Winged Victory
statue and cringed at the thought of some random piece of shrapnel damaging any part of it, even the base.

When I looked at Black, he rolled his eyes at me, but smiled a little, too.

He crooked a finger, beckoning me closer.

Rising to my feet, I stepped up next to him, bringing my face nearer to his. I knew it was unlikely Ian would overhear us in here, but his caution made sense.

“Get over it, doc,” he murmured once I was close enough. He sent me a heated pulse. “It’s cute as fuck, but I’m not letting you risk your life...
 
or mine...
 
just to avoid nicking a piece of stone, no matter how pretty.” He glanced up at
Winged Victory
herself without moving his face from mine. “...Anyway, every single piece in this museum has seen at least one war. This one’s seen a few I suspect, so give the old girl some credit...”

He was right. I knew he was right. Even so, I clenched my jaw as I glanced at the emergency exit door.

“Will it definitely give us an exit?” I said.

“Did you get it out of my stores?” Black said, his eyes flickering back to my mouth.

“Yes.”

He inclined his head. “Then yes...
 
providing we don’t do anything stupid like throw it so it bounces back at us...
 
it will definitely get us through.”

Nodding, I returned his gaze. It was difficult, being so close to him. I found myself acutely aware of him again, in more ways than one. I also realized I’d been avoiding that very thing pretty much since I’d seen him tied to that chair.

Swallowing when I felt him following the direction of my eyes over his face, I nodded again, looking away.

“Okay. We’ll need to get everyone to the opposite side of the pedestal long enough to have some protection from the blast.” I paused, glancing in the direction of the last shots fired. “Can we do that? Without getting shot?”

“I can distract him. I just need a few minutes.”

Wary, I met his gaze. “How?”

Black smiled. “A little faith, doc.”

I considered arguing the point, then decided against it.

I started to move my face away from his altogether, but he caught hold of my arm. I didn’t have time to even tense when he bent down, kissing me on the mouth, pressing my back up against the base of the statue. The kiss started off warm, soft...
 
sensual enough to catch me off guard even as a pulse of his heat sank slowly into my chest. The kiss gradually grew hotter as he deepened it, using his tongue. He kissed me for a long-feeling few seconds, holding my body away from his, probably because of the gaping hole in his side. In spite of that fact...
 
in spite of everything, I lost myself there, briefly at least.

He didn’t. I felt his caution, even when I lost mine––intensely enough that it frustrated me. Whatever that caution was, it wasn’t about him being wounded.

Maybe caution wasn’t really the right word.

Restraint. Restraint was a lot closer, which is maybe why I struggled to understand.

I wondered about it more loudly and he exuded amusement, raising his head. Kissing my neck, he murmured in my ear. “You’re fucking kidding me right now, aren’t you, doc?”

He lightly bit the skin of my neck, hitting me with a more intense wash of heat, making me light-headed. When I looked up, his pupils had dilated, turning his irises nearly all-black. I understood the rest of what he was saying, too––I wasn’t the only one who got a little off-balance when we were together.

“Off-balance?” He grunted. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

He kissed me again while I thought about that, and I lost myself again.

I had to fight not to cling to him when he pulled away the second time. I met his gaze and his gold eyes were slightly out of focus. He seemed to be breathing harder, too.

“You know how to set the delay?” he said, soft.

I nodded. “Yes.”

“You’re okay with the throwing part?” His eyes flickered to my mouth. “Be gentle, doc.”

I nodded, then glanced back at the other two.

Nick was scowling openly at Black. Angel only smiled from where she sat on the floor, holding her hand against the side of her head where the bleeding seemed to have finally stopped. She rolled her eyes at me, or maybe at both of us.

Ignoring Nick’s continued glare, I looked back at Black. “Okay. Tell them what’s up...
 
and when you need us to move. I’ll get closer to the door. Do you want to give me a signal or something?”

“You’ll know when I start the distraction. But give me a few minutes. Let me ping you for the throw itself, okay?”

I hesitated, about to ask.

Then I let it go and just nodded.

I didn’t want him playing distraction truthfully, especially wounded. But I also knew he’d be more likely to pull it off with a fellow seer than either of my friends. It should also put him furthest away from the grenade blast, so there was that.

Anyway, I didn’t have any better ideas.

I was about to walk away, when he caught my arm again. “Can I see it, doc? I want to make sure what kind it is. They had new ones coming in when I left.”

Realizing he meant the explosive, I barely hesitated before I bent down, pulling my pant leg up over the top of my boot. Easing the grenade out of the pouch strapped around my calf, I straightened and handed it to Black.

I glanced at Angel and Nick while Black looked it over.

They both looked wiped out. Despite his anger, Nick also looked overly pale.

I reminded myself that in addition to the bullet holes, they were also both jet-lagged. We needed to get out of here. None of us could hold up for much longer, and Black could actually die depending on what that glass rod punctured while it was inside him.

Thinking about that, I realized Ian hadn’t fired at us in awhile.

I wondered if he was changing vantage points on us again.

I looked down in surprise as Black bent his knees in front of me. Gasping lightly, he shoved the grenade back into the pouch in my boot and pulled my pant leg back over it. He straightened seconds later with the help of the stone base, pressing his other hand to his side.

He leaned back against the pedestal, breathing hard, grimacing in pain.

“Why the hell didn’t you let me do that?” I said, staring at him.

He just winked at me, smiling. I could tell he was full of it, just from how pale he’d gotten in those few seconds, but he spoke before I could lecture him again.

“Don’t pull it out until you need it, doc,” he said.

He began to move away then paused, bending down to kiss me on the mouth again. Like before, he started out soft at first––then let the kiss linger, kissing me harder, until he’d pressed my back into the stone base all over again.

He let out a low sound just before he pulled away.

I felt a lot behind that kiss. Enough that I probably should have been worried.

Apparently that’s a lesson I just can’t seem to learn, though.

Thirteen

DISTRACTION

BLACK WAS RIGHT about one thing––I knew when he started.

I’d only just crouched down by the stone pedestal nearer to the fire exit when he raised his voice.

He spoke English––well, mostly English––probably for our benefit.

“Brother,” he called out.
“J’talek hudre-ti
. Respectfully, brother. Can we talk?”

There was a heavy-feeling silence.

Maybe in part because I held my breath, that silence made me light-headed.

Somehow, before he’d even really done it, I knew exactly what Black intended to do. I didn’t know how far he meant to go with it exactly––whatever else Black might be, suicidal wasn’t part of his personality make-up––but I knew he intended to use
himself
as the distraction.

The thought ratcheted my nerves up to redline.

It crossed my mind to wonder at the intensity of my reaction. That rabid overprotectiveness around Black’s life was unlike anything I’d ever experienced with another person, not even my sister Zoe while she’d been alive. There was something completely irrational about it––and borderline organic. It resembled more of a survival instinct than a conscious emotion.

I’d been battling that feeling for weeks now––months really, ever since Black left me in San Francisco––but it had definitely gotten worse.

Hell, even just from that last kiss it felt worse.

I bit my lip, fighting the desire to rise to my feet, to walk over to him now and yank him back or maybe just yell at him in the space. I knew both things would likely be pointless. Worse, they might get both of us killed.

I could almost feel him willing me to trust him.

It didn’t reassure me.

At all, truthfully––in part because I could feel that same irrational overprotectiveness on him in relation to me.

“Can we talk, brother?” Black called out. “Let us be reasonable about this.”

Another silence.

Then, from the other side of that ramp, a different voice rose.

“Reasonable?” that voice said mockingly. “You want to be reasonable now?”