Page 14 of Black to Light

“Rucker’s lawyer,” he muttered after he released her firm grip. “Why would Lucian want to hire me? He’s got access to––”

“IrepresentLucian Rucker, Mr. Black,” the woman cut in with that husky voice. “I have for over fifteen years. But he isn’t the person who sent me, not directly. I am now, unfortunately, in a very different position relative to Lucian and his assets.”

Black’s frown deepened. “Meaning what?”

Had Lucian fired her? Did they come here, wanting him to go after Luc?

Because that would be… interesting. Intriguing, even. He might even be tempted.

He didn’t have long to wonder.

“He’s been murdered.” Her lips twitched the tiniest bit. “We’d like you to find out who did it, Mr. Black… preferably before we’re forced to report it to the police.”

Black’s mind fell into something akin to a tactical mode, or an analytical one, at least.

Rucker Enterprises.

The Lion Hunter’s Club.

Archangel.

What the fuck was this even about?

While he didn’t really want to be on the radar ofanyof that, he couldn’t see himself just walking away from the meeting empty-handed, either. He had to admit, too, his curiosity was piqued. Could that psychopath really be dead?

If so, why wouldn’t they want the police involved?

Just off the top of his head, Black could think of a few thousand people who would happily dance on that fucker’s grave.

From what he remembered of “just call me Luc” Rucker, he was a showboating little prick with a God complex, notably distasteful hygiene, horrible taste in clothes, the social habits of a troll, and a media hound who put Black to shame even at his absolute worst.

Miri would despise him.

Well,wouldhave despised him, apparently.

Black didn’t like the mental control he felt on the lawyer, though.

Even if she was just an ordinary human with an unusual ability to silence her mind, something about her felt very off. Cowboy was the most Zen piece of shit Black knew, and his mind wasn’t as utterly and completely silent as hers.

Something about that silence bothered him.

He wondered for a second time if the best approach might be to hold them here. Have them tranquilized. Go through both of their memories and minds in considerable depth. Confirm or find out who they were, what they wanted from him, what they knew about him, then erase every part of the interrogation and, hopefully, erase what they knew about him, too.

Something told him to wait.

There would be time enough for that later.

“Why wouldn’t you just go to the police?” Black asked finally.

He took another sip of the macchiato and kept his tone polite, if a touch cold.

“If you work for who you say you do,” he added. “You have access to some of the most highly-trained security teams in the world. Given Rucker’s connections in the military, you’d likely have the F.B.I. working tirelessly to find his killer, not tomention S.F.P.D., and probably Homeland Security. What could I possibly offer that you don’t already have?”

Mr. Gold and the woman who’d introduced herself as Rania Gorren exchanged another look.

Black felt a muscle in his cheek twitch.

He was getting really tired of this shit.

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