Read Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5) for Free Online Page B

red-tinted eyes sharpened.
    “I will protect our truce, Betial,” he added, his voice a touch colder. “Which means, should the psychics contact me in this matter, I will express condolences to them, and offer to help them if I can. If I must, I will even admit there is some chance a rogue among ours has acted past his mandate. If they believe this to be true as well, I will offer to help them track and kill that rogue.” His eyes held more of that colder meaning. “So do not leave your fingerprints on this operation of yours, Mr. Brick. Your life very well may depend on it.”
    Brick smiled, adjusting his tie. “Of course, sir. And all of your, well... diplomatic machinations certainly make sense, given your very rational terror of the psychics.”
    Konstantin’s eyes grew even colder.
    Brick only smiled at him, his face purposefully blank, and eventually Konstantin looked away. When he did, Brick’s smile faded, leaving his face as still as glass.
    Game over, fucker. I win.
    These old geezers might be shaking in their boots over the idea of fighting the psychics, but Brick certainly wasn’t.
    They feared a war.
    Brick found the idea positively delicious.

Three
    WINED AND DINED

    “REMIND ME AGAIN why we came here, instead of staying at the hotel,” he murmured. Tugging me closer, he put more light into his tongue and lips, pulling me deeper into his lap without taking his mouth off my bare skin.
    I was having a really hard time thinking about anything at that particular moment, much less the question he’d asked. After a few long-feeling seconds while he continued to work his way down my throat, I remembered enough, however.
    While I couldn’t recall the exact rationale he’d used, I knew our leaving the hotel was definitely his fault.
    “Are you sure?” he said, softer. “That doesn’t sound like me.”
    “I’m positive, Quentin.”
    His hands tightened when I said his name, right before they yanked me deeper into his lap. He softened the moment I curled up against him, brushing the hair out of my face with both hands. I felt another flush of heat off him as he looked me over in the dress.
    “I think you must be remembering wrong,” he said.
    “You wanted to come here. To this specific restaurant. You made a big deal about coming here, as I recall... said you were going to order for me and everything.”
    He shook his head again. “Doesn’t sound like me.”
    I fought a laugh, mostly because it sounded exactly like him––but stopped when his hands slid under the edges of the gauzy dress I wore, wrapping around my hips. Despite the urgency I felt vibrating off him now, his mouth and light remained slow, deliberate... maddeningly so. My hands had already found their way inside his shirt, too. Within a few seconds more he was breathing harder, his chest moving under my fingers as I explored his skin.
    The restaurant was definitely your idea... I repeated in his mind.
    His teeth closed briefly on my shoulder. I could feel him holding back with that, too.
    Then you must have drugged me, he sent. Or pushed me while I was watching you shower...
    But I remembered the conversation now.
    Given that we were staying at probably the nicest hotel in which I’d ever stepped foot, including with him, I would have been perfectly happy to stay there and try out the poolside restaurant. With its outdoor fire pits, plant-covered trellises and lit waterfalls overlooking a stunning view of a pristine and private corner of Santa Monica beach, it evoked a remote island paradise, even for Los Angeles.
    Supposedly a lot of celebrities stayed there. Black mentioned that fact to me casually, while we waited for the desk clerk to finish making us keys.
    I’m not much of a star-stalker type, but I admit I was curious.
    Black wanted to come here , though, which was apparently the most high-end Mexican restaurant in existence. We hadn’t eaten anything yet, but the smells coming from the kitchen were dizzying, even with the