Page 218 of The Black Trilogy

“You must have been dreaming.”

He sat down on the bed and squeezed my hand. “Diamond, I think you were the one dreaming.”

I shook my head, as if by denying his words, they wouldn’t be true. How could I have made enough noise to wake Black without even noticing? His gaze flicked downwards, and I realised my Walther was still in my hands. I dropped the gun as if it had burned me and struggled to sit up.

“I wasn’t… I couldn’t…”

The reality wasn’t something I wanted to consider.

But I had no choice.

Nightmares plagued me, ever more frequent as I added to my back catalogue of triggers. Talking things through with Black helped some, but they kept coming, relentless.

Something inside me broke that day, and nothing could ever fix it.

Over the next year, the jobs Black gave me got tougher, as did the ongoing battle with my demons. Black was always by my side, though, and Blackwood grew like it was on steroids. The profits made the decision to expand overseas an easy one, starting with an office in London.

While Black and I scoured the UK property listings and hunted an art thief in LA, Nate surprised us by getting married. He took a trip to Mexico to deliver a hostage negotiation training program in partnership with the Mexican authorities and came back with their best sniper in tow. The High Command GAFE had been less than happy to lose Carmen, and Black spent two weeks placating them while Nate and his new bride took off for a honeymoon in Australia. To this day, we still gave the Mexican Special Forces a discount on our services.

Nick finally agreed to join us, and Black and Nate each signed over five percent of their shares in Blackwood to him as an incentive. I’d kept in touch with him over the months, our meetings mainly dinners of the room service variety. Our discreet liaisons suited us both, as did our string of dirty text messages.

After the ninth or tenth such occasion, Black found out. Nick dropped me back at Riverley one evening and kissed me goodbye with a little too much tongue. When I turned towards the house, I saw Black step back from the window. Our secret wasn’t a secret anymore. Would Black say anything?

I half expected him to, but when I said goodnight, all I got in return was a grunt as he poured himself a glass of Scotch.

“That’s a good thing,” I muttered to myself as I climbed the stairs.

Like I’d said to Nick, what I did in my own time was my business, but I still didn’t want to talk to Black about the sordid details. He may have controlled my working hours, but he couldn’t take over my entire life.

Oh, who was I kidding?

Two days later, Black beckoned me into his study after my morning workout.

“I’ve got a project for you. A new challenge.”

“What kind of challenge?”

“We’ve just signed the contract to buy an office building in King’s Cross, and I need you to fly to London and oversee the setup.”

“How long for?”

“At least a month. Maybe two.”

“That long?”

“The contractor’s behind, and they’ve already installed the wrong type of partitioning on the top floor.”

“Seriously? You want me to monitor builders?”

“I thought you might like to catch up with your old friends as well. Jimmy… Jackie… That kid who taught you how to boost cars.”

I might have grumbled, but Black was right. Yes, I missed Nick, but I had a ball catching up with the guys at the gym. Jimmy helped me to keep up my training while I learned the ins and outs of business and investments. Profit and loss, balance sheets, government regulations, marketing. Boring, but it sure came in handy later when I needed to look after my own money.

Unfortunately, with my frequent flights between the UK and the US, I also learned about jet lag and the joys of airport immigration queues when you don’t have a US passport. I had a citizenship application in progress, but the constant barrage of questions on every aspect of my life and job from US Customs and Border Protection officers drove me nuts. Interviews, forms, visa renewals. Hours of my life wasted. Not only that, my hazy status caused difficulties getting security clearance for some jobs, and while I could obtain the information in more creative ways, it wasted valuable time and energy.

After one such painful trip through McCarran International, I sat in a Vegas hotel bar with Black and Nate, ready to plan a security test we were due to undertake for one of the big casinos out there. I’d arrived late, annoyed, and tired, and I quickly swallowed the glass of white Black pushed in front of me.

“Problems again, Diamond?”

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