Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5) Read Free

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.”

    WHICH BROUGHT US to where we were now, approaching the outskirts of Los Banos, California, doing about 130 mph, if I was reading the speedometer correctly.
    “Police, huh?” I said, as we flashed past the last Los Banos exit and entered the blank stretch of no man’s land between there and Bakersfield. “F.B.I.? I don’t suppose you’re going to enlighten me on any of the details?”
    He flashed me another smile. “You don’t say a word to me for over an hour, and this is the first thing out of your mouth?” That time, he patted his own thigh. “Come here and motivate me to talk. Or at least motivate me to drive faster.”
    I sighed. “Am I going to have to call Nick? Really?”
    Black shrugged, focusing back on the road. “Go ahead.”
    Biting my lip, I decided to call his bluff. Without thinking, I unbuckled my seat belt and slid over to his side of the car. Once there, I promptly began going through his pockets, looking for his phone. He writhed under my hands, but didn’t fight me, or even try to obstruct me really.
    “Jesus, you’re giving me a hard-on...”
    “Where is it?” I said, looking up at him. “Nick won’t answer if he knows why I’m calling. Give me your damned phone, Quentin.”
    He was breathing harder, which was distracting as hell. I saw him pause at my question, could nearly feel the wheels turning as he thought about whether he should try to dissuade me or not. I also felt him thinking about sex. I felt that