Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5) (2 page)

But he was still on the right Earth.

None of this was right for his home world. None of it. He was wearing prison fatigues, but they were human. If he was back in that other world, they wouldn’t have left his hands and feet free. No way. Not at his sight rank.

He’d be wearing organic or semi-organic binders, not just the collar. They’d have him chained to the wall. And no way in hell would they open the door with him un-cuffed inside. The door was all wrong, anyway. Back home, that door would be pure organic metal, possibly with a sliding view hole. Or organic glass.

The cell would be dark.

He would also probably be drugged, or hooked up to wires. He definitely would have been beat up more, not just groggy from a head injury.

And yeah, the clothes were all wrong.

Black’s rational mind slowly began to take over as he looked around the small cell. This was definitely what he thought of as
his
Earth. Back home, they didn’t house seers like this, even during Black’s time. Now they probably had even more sadistic tech toys to control people like him. They’d definitely have surveillance in the room.

Taking another deep breath, he flipped over his arm, looking at his old race-cat tattoo. He found himself relaxing even more when he saw the skin unbroken.

If they’d picked him up in the old world, they would have re-chipped him immediately. He’d had the old one removed as soon as he possibly could, about ten years after he first reached this world. Running his fingers over the smooth skin, he forced himself to take another breath.

So he was still on the right Earth. The Earth where his life was.

The Earth where Miri was.

But how the fuck would anyone know to collar him here? And if they knew that much, why would they put him in with a general population at all?

Well, unless they were trying to disappear him.

Or kill him.

At the thought, he rose shakily to his feet––more cautiously that time. He gripped the cement shelf as he got up, using it for balance. Turning his head slowly, mostly because of the pain, he looked over both sides of the room, reassuring himself it was empty. He knew he wouldn’t be alone in here for long, though.

His eyes returned to the open door.

He could already hear the sounds.

Prisoners leaving their cages, joking, laughing, talking loudly, starting to walk the catwalks. Heading in his direction.

New guy. He’d be the new guy.

He again fought to pull his head together, knowing he didn’t have a lot of time. He couldn’t be found in here like this, half-blind with pain, clutching the collar and whining like a wounded dog. He’d been in prisons before. That had been in a different world, a different time and place, but some things wouldn’t have changed.

Some things never changed.

He’d be fresh meat here, just like he had been back then. And he didn’t have his sight.

Welcome to the jungle, motherfucker.

Welcome home.

One

24 HOURS EARLIER

“WHY ARE WE doing this?” I grumbled, looking up from the map on my phone. I gazed out over the scenery flashing by as Black aimed what was probably a three- or four-hundred-thousand dollar sports car down the left lane of California’s I-5 heading south.

He had to be doing over 100 mph, easy.

We’d just left the last vestiges of the Bay Area behind.

Now we were entering what Nick jokingly termed the “dead zone” in the middle of the state. Grasses bleached yellow in the sun washed over rolling hills dotted by oak trees and wandering cattle and horses. Those hills flowed in uneven lines around flatter expanses filled with agricultural crops and farm houses, broken by the occasional cluster of outlet malls and even more recent outcroppings of cookie-cutter tract housing with red tile roofs.

“...Since when do you jump when Nick snaps his fingers?” I added, slightly louder over the whipping wind of the convertible. “Between him and Lucky, you’re turning into everybody’s butt monkey lately.”

I know, I know... and yes, I said it deliberately to annoy him.

But honestly? I really was struggling with the whole thing.

I almost didn’t care if Black knew it.

It’s not like he’d given me much notice. He screeched up to the front doors of the Northern Precinct at eleven-thirty that morning, nearly hopping the blood-red curb before he revved the enormous engine in the white and black convertible, grinning at me. The car alone had every head turning, both around the station and out on the street.

I couldn’t help noticing a fair few of those eyes stared at Black himself, especially after he lowered the mirrored shades to wink at me.

“Hey, baby! Hop in!” Glancing to my right, he nodded at Angel, who stood beside me, arms folded as she stared at Black and the car, shaking her head with a bemused look on her face. Black barely seemed to notice. “...I already got you off the hook with all of those whiny motherfuckers you normally have to listen to all day. I packed you a bag, too. Well,” he amended, making a fluid gesture with one hand. “...Kiko did. So if anything’s missing, yell at her. I did my best to interfere, but she kept shooing me out of the room.”

It took me a few seconds to absorb what he was saying.

Frowning, I looked down at Black in the leather bucket seats. “We going somewhere?”

He looked surprised. “Well... yes. Clearly.” He revved the engine again, smiling that killer smile of his. “You haven’t said anything about the car. I figured it was appropriate. One has to play the part, as it were... and I love out-assholing the assholes.”

“Clearly?” I repeated, louder over the engine. “Black? Where are we going?”

“L.A.,” he said, as if that were obvious, too. He patted the seat with one hand. “Come on,
ilya.
Daylight’s burning. And you should see the fucking room I got us. It’s positively pornographic. Of course, I might fill the hot tub with champagne and break a few things, just to go full-bore Hollywood with it...”

Exhaling in frustration, and now fighting not to laugh, I glanced at Angel.

She was still standing next to me, only now she was looking over the car, appreciation in her light brown eyes. She glanced at me only after she felt my stare. Laughing at my silent plea that she back me up on this, she shook her head, making a “no” and then a “shoo” gesture with her hands towards Black’s car.

She turned to Black, speaking above the sound of the engine.

“Nice ride, Quentin.”

“You like it, Ang? I’ll let you and Anthony take it for a spin when we get back.”

Angel chuckled, shaking her head at him, before she turned that grin on me. “Have fun, doc.” She patted me on the back sympathetically. “You’d better go. You might as well enjoy the perks of being with that lunatic. And God knows, he can’t stay out of trouble without you.”

“...Or with me,” I muttered. Shaking my head at Black in the obscenely expensive-looking convertible, I gave Angel an exasperated look. “You’re really leaving me alone with whatever the hell this is? Or did you already know about it?”

She gave me an expressive shrug, and I scowled.

“Nick called me,” she said, as if that explained it.

“Figures,” I grumped at her. “Is that what that cryptic phone call was this morning?”

Angel laughed, holding up her hands in surrender. “You’d better ask your man, doc. I told both of them I was staying out of this.”

“Convenient,” I said, speaking louder over the engine again. “Guess who I’m calling if anything goes wrong.”

“Take pictures,” she teased, smiling. “Especially if he trashes the room.”

I stepped the rest of the way to the curb and leaned down, opening the car door with a jerk of my fingers. I flinched back when the door rose unexpectedly vertical instead of horizontal, moving smoothly and silently to expose the passenger seat.

“Jesus,” I said.

“Cool, right?” Leaning down to look at me under the car door, he motioned with his head. “Get in. I’m serious about the room. We can go swimming before it gets dark if we hurry...”

“Why are we going to L.A.?” I said, frowning. “It’s work-related, right? If Nick called you, it has to be. Is Mozar involved?”

He only grinned wider, revving the engine again. “Get in the car, Miriam... get in the car... get in the car... or I’m going to punish you tonight...”

Sighing in defeat, I slid into the seat next to his. He spoke a voice command to lower the door. When it lowered and clicked back into place, I gave him another disbelieving look.

“What the hell is this thing?” I said. “A Lamborghini?”

He looked deeply offended, peering at me over the shades a second time with his tiger-like gold eyes. “Fuck no. Lamborghini? Jesus, Miriam. It’s a McLaren Spider.”

“Is that better or something?”

He rolled his eyes, like I’d just spoken some form of blasphemy against his personal brand of car porn. When he glanced up at Angel, his eyes still reflected that disbelief.

“Will you please educate my wife about automobiles when we get back, Angel? Jesus. It’s embarrassing. Maybe I should take
you
to L.A... the gods know she won’t fit in down there if she’s not willing to piss in a few pools and be arrogant about cars.”

I flinched at little at the wife thing... then scowled.

“Don’t get me in trouble, Quentin,” Angel shot back, aiming a finger at him. “Last warning.”

I glanced at her, and she snorted another laugh, shaking her head.

“And don’t kill my best friend with your crazy driving,” she added, still talking to Black. “Or I really will come after you.”

Giving us both a final wave, more of a dismissal or maybe a “you’re both insane” gesture that time, she turned on her heel and headed back inside the police station, her motorcycle keys jangling in one hand.

When I looked back at Black, I saw from the direction his sunglasses tilted that he was looking me over in the skirt suit I wore. Feeling heat emanating off him as he stared, I scowled, pushing at his chest with one hand.

“Why are we driving?” I said. “And what’s in L.A.? Are you going to tell me?”

Black had his own plane. He also had at least two helicopters I’d seen. Driving to L.A. was definitely going the long way for him, even in a car like this.

“I wanted to. Drive, that is.” When his gaze tilted back up, his eyes were erased by the mirrored shades. “That okay?”

Clicking on my seatbelt, I nodded, but I was still puzzled.

“And my other question?” I said, sighing. “About what’s in Los Angeles?”

“Palm trees. Beach. Bikinis. Assholes like me in disgustingly expensive cars.” He glanced at me, still inscrutable behind the shades. “...Also police. And F.B.I. And did I mention bikinis? I told Kiko to pack at least two for you... maybe three, I don’t remember.”

“Do I even want to know? About the police thing, I mean...” I shoved his hand off when he rested it on my thigh.

“Probably not.” He flashed that killer smile at me again. “Come on! Road trip.” He grinned wider. “We’ll get tacos. On me.”