Page 191 of The Black Trilogy

“He didn’t do this. It was some other guy. He jumped me, and I didn’t see his face. Black pulled him off; that’s how he got hurt.” I pointed at his cheek, which glowed a tasteful shade of purplish-blue under the strip lights.

Okay, so that was a bit of a lie, but what was I supposed to do? Tell the truth?

Like an outgoing tide, the tension ebbed from the room. Jimmy took a step back and stuck out his hand for Black to shake. “Why didn’t you say so, son? Thanks for looking after her. Want a beer?”

The other guys clapped him on the back and wandered off to the weight pile.

Black reached out for his hand. “I’ll pass, thanks. I’m just here to take Amanda out for dinner.” He looked at me pointedly when he stressed my name.

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

So my guess of mid-twenties had been bang on.

“You’re too old for her. She’s only eighteen,” Jimmy informed him, turning to me. “He’s too old for you,” he repeated.

“It’s not like that,” Black said to Jimmy. “I only want to make sure she’s all right after what happened last night. My conscience wouldn’t let me drop her off and then wash my hands of her.”

“Oh. In that case, Amanda, you’d better go and get ready. Sure you don’t want that beer?”

Thanks, Jimmy. He may have looked like the Hulk, but he was a pushover.

Gah! I rolled my eyes, but it looked as if I was stuck going for dinner with Black, because I couldn’t back out without Jimmy asking more questions. And I’ll admit, I was a teensy bit curious over why Black wanted to talk to me.

I left him sitting on the sofa in reception and prayed Jimmy wouldn’t blab too much about me to a man I barely knew. That thought made me hurry in the shower, and my jeans stuck to my still-damp skin as I pulled on the cleanest pair.

I didn’t own much in the way of smart, and the closest I’d come to dinner with a man before was sharing the 2-for-1 deal at Chicken Cottage. But it wasn’t like this was a date, so I figured the jeans and a plain black T-shirt would be fine with my dark purple jumper over the top. I didn’t own a blow dryer and all my make-up was at Silk, so my face stayed bare and the soggy ends of my blonde hair brushed my shoulders.

Fifteen minutes later, I was back out the front with Jimmy and Black, who’d been joined by Jackie. The three of them were chatting away like long-lost friends. When Black saw me coming, he stood up and held out a hand to me.

Still playing the part for Jimmy, I linked my arm through Black’s and smiled.

“The car awaits, my lady,” Black said, charm personified.

Jackie grinned like she’d just won the lottery. “Oh, Amanda, he’s such a gentleman. And don’t you worry about working tomorrow morning, honey. I’ll do your shift.”

“You don’t have to do that,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Nonsense, you need to enjoy yourself sometimes.” And that was her final word on it.

Black escorted me out of the door, and the second it closed behind us, I shoved his arm back at him. “I think we’ve safely established I’m not a lady, and I’m certainly not your lady, so you might as well cut the crapola.”

Irritatingly, he just turned to me and raised an eyebrow. “Amanda?”

“Look, have you ever had a name you really hated? I’m not going to use it if I don’t have to.”

“Sure I do. It’s Charles. Why do you think my friends call me Black?”

“I’m not exactly a friend, am I?”

“Well, I’m working on that, okay? Good save in there, by the way. I especially liked the part where I beat up the mystery third assailant. That was a nice touch.”

“I didn’t do it for you. I just didn’t want Nigel to get arrested again when the mob tried to kill you. He only got out of prison last week, and he’d be violating his parole.”

“Oh. Well, thanks anyway.” He stopped at a low-slung black sports car and opened the door for me to get in.

“No driver tonight?”

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