by Mari Carr
“I believe you’re meeting Mr. Boyd?”
“Yes, I am.”
“He’s already checked in and wanted me to let you know he’s in the Owl Bar.”
“The Owl Bar,” Levi said slowly.
The hostess’s lips twitched. “First time at the Magic Castle?”
“That obvious?”
“Welcome, and I hope you’re ready to see some magic. Would you like me to take your picture? Commemorate the moment?”
He was here on a secret mission from an even more secret society. He was about to meet one movie star so they could convince another movie star to join the secret society. He shouldn’t be playing tourist.
But if he didn’t have a picture, how could he lord it over his roommates? He’d spent most of the morning trying to drive them nuts by not telling them anything besides he was going to L.A. Imagine how much better the torment would be with photos.
“Just a quick one.”
He passed over his phone and posed in front of some built-in bookshelves with an owl statue on the middle shelf. The hostess took several photos, then handed his phone back with a smile. “There you go. You can head in. The Owl Bar is directly above the lobby bar, not hard to find.”
Levi turned in a full circle, only now realizing that it seemed like there was only one door in the room—the door he’d come in. Damn, he was going soft if he hadn’t noted the entrances and exits, or lack thereof.
But that was kind of the point. He was allowed to go soft. Classics professors didn’t need multiple exit strategies in case an op was FUBAR.
He looked at the hostess and raised a brow. She smiled, and that smile turned appreciative as she looked him up and down. Levi returned her admiring glance.
When she leaned in, he bent so she could whisper in his ear. She smelled good.
“You need to say the magic words.”
Levi straightened. “Magic words?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“You’re serious?”
“This is the Magic Castle.”
“Uh...please let me in?”
The hostess laughed softly. “The real magic words. Not magically polite.”
He thought for a second. “Open sesame?”
The bookcase behind him swung inward, revealing a dramatically lit hall.
“Okay, that’s just fucking cool,” Levi said aloud, not caring if it made him seem like a dumbass.
“Have fun,” the hostess said.
Levi had been in mission-mode until now. He had orders to follow, and even if they’d been a bit more luxurious than he was used to—flying first class instead of strapped in a cargo plane, that had just made the experience nicer.
But now...now he was having fun.
The building was labyrinthine, but he found the lobby bar easily enough, and then a staircase that took him to the second floor. He’d never been on a good news mission before. He was fairly certain some of what he’d done in the military had eventually led to other soldiers liberating cities and bringing in supplies, the sort of feel-good missions that the armed forces talked about during recruitment. But Ranger companies were only deployed when the shit had already hit the fan.
He was on his first feel-good mission.
The Owl Bar was fairly easy to find. Half a dozen bar-height chairs waited in front of the ornately-carved golden wood bar. Shelves on either side of the room were filled with owl decoys, and the whole room felt closed in, but not in a suffocating way. The place felt like he’d just walked into the home of an eccentric millionaire in 1930. Great Gatsby met Hoarders met...met the inside of a magician’s trunk.
The bartender inclined his head as Levi stepped into the small room. There was only one other occupant, who stood angled so his back was toward the entrance as he examined the framed memorabilia on the paneled walls.
The man was medium height—though most people were to Levi—with dark hair that gleamed in the gold light from the Tiffany fixtures overhead. Both height and hair color, as well as the fact that he was keeping his face hidden, made the man a match for Levi’s contact.
“Stefan?” Levi asked quietly.
The man turned, and Levi was hit by a sense of recognition. It was odd because he’d never met the man before, but it still felt like he knew him. He’d watched this man in countless movies. Seen him interviewed on the news and on YouTube channels.
Stefan extended his hand, a reserved smile on his face. Levi offered his own, and when the gold ring he wore, bearing the triquetra, caught the light, Stefan’s smile grew. “Levi. Glad you found me.”
They shook hands, and Levi glanced over at the bartender. “I believe we need to have a strategy meeting, though I’m not sure if the location...”
“We should be able to talk here.” Stefan pulled out one of the stools at the bar and slid elegantly onto the seat.
Levi joined him, forcing himself not to smile like a dumbass. How fucking cool was this? He was in a magician’s club about to have drinks with a movie star, who just so happened to also be a member of the same secret society Levi was in. It sucked he couldn’t post about stuff like this. The kids he’d grown up with would shit their pants if they saw him now.
“And what can I get for you gentlemen?” the bartender asked.
“Whiskey, if you have any of the house?” Stefan said with the ease of someone who didn’t feel out of place or in awe.
“We do.” The bartender gestured to a small barrel set on its side behind the bar. The end of it was branded with the logo that said The Academy of Magical Arts.
“They age their own whiskey here. Quite good.” Between Stefan’s friendly manner and the sense of familiarity, Levi was instantly at ease.
“I’ll have the same,” Levi told the bartender.
Drinks were poured, which involved a sleight of hand trick that had Levi blinking in confusion. Stefan patted him on the shoulder. “Everything is a magic show at the Magic Castle.”
“Is that why we’re meeting here?” He didn’t know who had picked the location, and he was starting to wonder if the Grand Master had been the one to select it, another layer to the sorry-you-were-tased apology. He wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, despite the fact that he should really be apologizing to her for fucking up the protection detail.
Stefan glanced at his watch, and for a moment, tension pinched the edges of his mouth.
Levi, who was enjoying himself far too much, looked at his own wrist. He’d arrived at the building five minutes before their designated meeting time, but between the interaction with the hostess and him staring at everything like a moron, he’d probably wasted ten minutes actually getting to the meet point. “I’m sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not. I was early. I just...I wanted to talk to you before we met her.” Stefan grimaced and took a sip.
“To discuss the best approach?”
“Yes. I wish...dammit…this is going to go so badly.” Stefan ran a hand through his hair. “I wanted to tell the Grand Master this was a bad idea, but I didn’t know how to get a message through. My contact numbers were for the old advisors. We have a few minutes before we need to head to the private room where we’re having dinner.” If Stefan hadn’t been so poised and well-spoken, it would have almost sounded like babbling.
Levi stiffened with each word that came out of Stefan’s mouth. When the man finally shut up, Levi asked, “You don’t want your girlfriend to be invited?”
“Shit, shit, shit. No, that’s not what I’m saying. Bea is…” Stefan sighed.
“Bea?”
“That’s what people who know her, the real her, call her. Her name is Beatrix. She goes by Trixie only for acting.”
The bubbly, excited feeling Levi had been enjoying was rapidly turning to a grim surety that shit was about to hit the fan.
The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
“What, exactly, is your concern?” Levi was all business now. He needed to reassess, then adapt his plan, which had
n’t been much of a plan to start.
“The thing is...you called her my girlfriend, right?”
“I did.” Levi repressed the urge to wring information out of Stefan by force.
“She’s not my girlfriend. Hasn’t been since…” Stefan half turned, staring at the wall behind the bar. His jaw muscle flexed, and his throat worked, but when he spoke again, there was no emotion in his voice. It was flat, hard. “She hates me.” That emotionless tone was masking some serious pain. The man may be a great actor, but Levi would have bet his life on that.
He was struck by a strange urge to reach out and hug the other man, to tell him to let it go, to cry. Trying to suppress feelings was like throwing yourself on a bomb. The bomb still went off, there was still a crater in the ground, and the people you were trying to protect were showered in bits of flesh and bone. Levi had seen it happen in combat.
If Trixie hated Stefan, getting her to agree to join the Trinity Masters just went from an easy mission to a FUBAR nightmare.
“She hates me,” Stefan said again. “And telling her about the Trinity Masters is going to make a bad situation a fuck-ton worse.”
Perfect. Just perfect. Levi downed the rest of his whiskey and closed his eyes. The Grand Master hadn’t sent him because she felt bad that he’d gotten tased.
She’d sent him because this mission was fucked, and when a mission went sideways, that’s when it was time to send in a Ranger.
Chapter Three
Beatrix smiled and winked at the small group of people who were trying to act like they weren’t staring at her. One irritated member of the party jabbed his least subtle companion, who was openly gaping. The jabber was probably the Magic Castle member, who didn’t want any of his guests to act like an idiot in front of the movie star.
Her assistant Parker was in front of her, leading the way and holding a clipboard since she wasn’t allowed to have her normally ever-present tablet out.
Beatrix fixed a neutral expression on her face and followed Parker. She’d been to the Magic Castle a handful of times and could have found her way on her own, but she was here for a meet and greet, so Parker was with her.
Like so many things in her life, this evening had been arranged for her, with little to no input from her. Five years ago, every day was like that. She’d been a prop in her own life. As her career stabilized, she’d learned to take back control, no longer needing to say yes to everything in an effort to build her name.
Now she gave Parker a handful of days a month that she could use to schedule all miscellaneous events and appearances, though if she’d known more than a day in advance about this being at the Magic Castle, she might have vetoed.
She’d been here before, and as they made their way through the former residence turned magic club, she tried not to think about it. About being here with Stefan, who’d done some sleight of hand magician training as part of his research for a role. He’d been nominated for a Golden Globe for his portrayal of a cat burglar in a neo-noir heist film. She’d sat beside him at the awards ceremony. The next day, the entertainment news had run the picture of the tender moment they shared after he’d lost.
That was back in the days before she’d learned what a heartless rat-bastard he was.
Beatrix released the hem of her designer gown—yes, it was the same one she’d worn to an LAFD charity event, and undoubtedly someone would notice and comment on that.
She glanced at Parker. “You have a statement ready about the environmental impact of fashion if anyone starts a story about the dress?”
“Ready to go. If no one picks it up, want me to leak it?” Parker twirled her pen between two fingers.
“God no. There’s actual news that should be reported.”
“Entertainment Tonight isn’t going to start reporting on environmental issues unless it directly relates to your dress.”
“Ugh. Still no. I’m planning to get arrested next week. That should do it.”
Parker whimpered.
Beatrix suppressed a smile and patted Parker on the shoulder. “You’re getting really good at posting bail.”
“But I don’t want to be really good at posting bail.”
“Life skills.”
“You know, other people work for normal celebrities.”
“No such thing.”
“Okay, that’s true.” Parker stopped outside a narrow wooden door, checked her clipboard, then nodded. “This is where you’re meeting. Private dining. I ordered for you in advance. You have forty-five minutes for discussion and dinner.”
“Levi,” Beatrix said, making sure she knew the name of the person she was about to eat with. “And we’re talking about...Ancient Greece?”
“Rome. For that Rocktide script in pre-production?” Parker’s pen started to twirl faster. “I’m sorry I don’t have more information, what I got from the agency was spotty and—”
“Okay, got it.” Beatrix wasn’t in the mood for her assistant’s stressed out apologies. “I needed to eat dinner either way. Am I late?”
Parker lowered her voice to a whisper. “Fifteen minutes late, by design. I figured you didn’t want to be in there the full hour.”
“Good job.” Beatrix nodded at the door.
Parker opened the narrow door. The room beyond was dramatically dim, lit by candles in mirror-backed sconces and a massive silver candelabra in the center of a small round table that looked like it should be used for séances, not dinner.
Beatrix pulled back her shoulders, raised her chin, and stepped into the room.
She’d done her share of meet and greets and had her standard “nice to meet you, welcome to Hollywood” lines ready. But when a giant emerged from a pool of shadow in the corner into the light of the candelabra, she blinked in surprise. He took another step and the candlelight hit his face.
Oh. Oh. The giant was sexy. He had strong features—long straight nose, square jaw, pale brown eyes, or maybe they were a little green. It was hard to tell.
Her libido, which had been MIA of late, woke up and took notice.
Wait, how long had she been staring at him?
“Trixie.” Parker spoke from the doorway, a little too loudly. “This is Mr. Levi Hart.”
“Levi,” Beatrix said, pulling herself together and holding out her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Behind her, Parker closed the door, eliminating the light from the hallway, leaving her closed in the atmospherically lit room with the giant.
“Yes. And you’re Beatrix.” He took her hand in a brief, firm grasp.
She raised a brow and gave him a conspiratorial wink. “Googled my real name?”
The giant didn’t even crack a smile.
The hairs on the back of Beatrix’s neck were suddenly standing on end. Faint alarm bells started to ring. Maybe it was just a reaction to the deliberately dim and mystical atmosphere of the room. Maybe it was because this massive man didn’t look like any grad student she’d ever met. He looked like a bodyguard.
Or a henchman.
Her instincts were starting to strongly suggest she get the hell out of this situation.
“Would you like to sit?” Levi’s voice was cool and calm, making the question a thinly-veiled command.
Nope. She was noping right the fuck out of this situation.
Beatrix spun on her heel, not caring how it would look if she bolted.
The shadows near the door moved. Her breath caught as a jolt of fear shot through her.
“Bea, don’t panic, it’s me.” For the second time, a figure stepped out of the shadows.
But this one wasn’t a stranger. She’d recognized the voice, and her name on his lips made her ache.
Stefan.
“Bea, I’m sorry to surprise you, but—”
Part of her cried out in longing because oh how she’d missed him. But that feeling, the urge to race into his arms, was dwarfed by the white-hot rage that filled her, a flash of burning cold that raced down her back.
“
You son of a bitch.” She took one step, raised her hand, and slapped him across the face. She hit him hard, hard enough that her palm hurt. He could have evaded, but he didn’t. In the second before she made contact, she’d seen resignation and sadness on his face.
And pity.
He pitied her.
Beatrix raised her hand to slap him again—despite knowing she shouldn’t. Despite knowing it wasn’t okay for her to hit him any more than it would be okay for him to hit her.
She did it because as long as she stayed mad, she wouldn’t cry.
Before she could lash out a second time, her wrist was grabbed from behind.
“No hitting,” Levi said. She’d been right. He was a bodyguard. Stefan’s.
“Let go of me, Sasquatch,” she demanded.
“Sasquatch? That’s rude.”
Beatrix looked over her shoulder at the giant. “I get that your job is to protect him, but you had better let go of my arm. Right. Fucking. Now.”
“Not if you’re going to hit him again.”
“I said. Let. Go.”
“Use your words, not your hands.” The giant used the patient tone of a teacher.
“You’re one to talk.” She yanked her arm, emphasizing that he still held her.
He released her wrist but stayed close. Beatrix turned so her back was to the wall, the giant on her left, Stefan on her right. Stefan was blocking her path to the door.
“I’m going to leave now,” Beatrix announced with a calm control she didn’t feel. “Stefan, please move. Jolly Green, I’m sorry you’ve made the bad decision to work for this ass-munch.”
“Ass-munch. Not bad. And my name is Levi. You said it before.”
“Right. Levi, the grad student from Harvard?” She looked him up and down. “I think not.”
“Hey now, don’t be mean.” The giant spread his hands, palms up. “I really am a grad student.”
“In what?”
“Greco-Roman classical history and languages.”
Beatrix opened her mouth, closed it, then looked back and forth between them. “What the actual fuck is going on here?”