Free Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5) by JC Andrijeski

watched him and I wanted to tell him not to go.
    I even considered asking him if he would bring me with him.
    In the end, though, I only watched him, silent.

Five
    MAPPING THE GROUND

    HAWKING SMILED WHEN Black emerged from the precinct locker room, his blue eyes lighting up in a wry humor Black could feel without using his sight.
    Next to him, another plainclothes detective, a man named Rodrigo, whistled. Then, gawking up at Black’s height, he clapped his hands and laughed aloud.
    “Damn, hombre ,” he said. “You make one hell of a scary cop. It’s a good thing we had that uniform left over from the last big-ass motherfucker who worked out of here.”
    Black quirked an eyebrow at him, not answering.
    Truthfully, the shirt pulled a bit around his shoulders. The pants fit, which he cared about a lot more, but he found himself rolling his shoulders in some discomfort when the fabric didn’t seem to be stretching to accommodate him.
    “You know,” Rodrigo continued, nudging Hawking with an arm. “Maybe we should hire this fucker full time. Get him to stare down some of those shit-heels in S-C with those weird-ass eyes of his. They wouldn’t know what to make of him.”
    Mozar just stood there, arms folded, as he looked Black over critically.
    “You still stand out,” he observed. “You’re not exactly the typical Black Ops profile... but I think the uniform will keep most of them from looking at your face.”
    “Not most pros,” Black said.
    Mozar shrugged, but didn’t answer.
    Black heard his thoughts though.
    It’ll be dark. We’ll probably leave him in the car for most of it anyway. I can’t have him working directly with the SWAT guys, and given how big that place is, the chances of him being seen are minimal...
    Black agreed. He also knew Mozar wasn’t worried about the shooter ID’ing him, despite what he’d said. He was worried about their mole in the F.B.I. or Homeland Security having some kind of tail on him or Hawking. He didn’t want them wondering who the new detective on staff was, or worse, finding out who Black really was and using that information to try and kick Mozar’s task force off the case.
    He and Hawking suspected their mole was relatively high up the food chain, given some of the information that had leaked and where that information ended up. High enough to find some way to claim F.B.I jurisdiction over the whole case.
    Putting Black in a uniform was supposed to hide his role here, not keep him safe, per se.
    Truthfully, Black didn’t really care. Mozar’s logic made sense. The only irritating thing was him pretending he gave a shit. Even so, his uneasiness didn’t dissipate as he stretched his arms, still trying to find give in the stiff uniform shirt.
    Maybe Miri’s paranoia was rubbing off on him.  
    Thinking about her made that sick feeling worse, though.
    He knew both of them had to move past this Templar thing, but he still couldn’t help feeling like a bastard for leaving her the way he did.
    She hadn’t wanted to get out of the car when they dropped her off at the hotel. She’d hesitated, gripping the door handle, going back and forth in her head about arguing with him, about insisting he take her along. He finally felt her telling herself she was being stupid, forcing herself to be quiet. Eventually, she’d opened the door, and he’d watched her leave. He could feel on her that she wouldn’t be hanging out at the bar that night, gawking at celebrities... or masturbating in the hot tub, like he suggested.
    She was genuinely worried.
    As much as some more primal part of him liked it, he hated doing it to her, much less letting her leave without really saying anything to her about it.
    He’d called out that he’d be back soon, trying to get her to turn, but she didn’t.
    So he just sat there, watching her walk back into the hotel.
    He knew if she’d dismissed him like that, while he was scared for her, he’d be ready to break things. That is, if he