License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel)

by Robinson, Gina

  Tate laughed. “Of course we have. How could we get them to do this mission without letting them know they’re working for us while working for you?

  “They all applied via our online job application. They’ve been carefully screened with background checks, and signed nondisclosure agreements just to get the opportunity to audition. The Agency has been watching some of them for years, hoping to recruit them. Part of the test is whether they can keep a secret. Anyone who couldn’t keep quiet was eliminated.”

  “Not literally, I hope,” Rock said.

  “From the competition for the jobs.” Tate winked.

  “Yes, but doesn’t advertising for magicians give the mission away to RIOT?” Rock didn’t understand secret agents.

  “Why would it? Our online application is completely secure,” Tate said. “Otherwise, how would we ever get new recruits? We can’t track and invite everyone we need. And besides, RIOT knows we’ve been looking for a John Mulholland replacement for years.”

  Rock shook his head. “Whatever you say. I guess this means I’m sponsoring the event and your night at the Castle. You three are just coming along for the ride while I hire for my top-secret NUFO show, that’s the cover?”

  “Exactly,” Tate said.

  “I hope I made reservations for dinner and booked an audition stage,” Rock said. “Otherwise we’ll be auditioning at Taco Bell.”

  “Naturally,” Tate said.

  Rock grinned. “Good to know the people at the Castle don’t hold a grudge. Last time I was there a few of my guests got out of hand. Sawed some furniture in half and couldn’t put it back together, if you know what I mean.”

  “We’re the CIA,” Tate said. “We have powers of persuasion. And apps that handle everything.”

  “Lani, I mean, Gillian, is your arm candy.” Rock hitched his thumb toward Ty. “What’s surfer boy’s story for tonight? How is he part of our party?”

  Tate laughed. “He’s an old college bud of mine I ran into and you invited along.”

  Ty glanced at the clock. “I’d better hit the showers if we’re going to make it to our reservation on time.”

  Rock turned to Tate. “I assume you have our tuxes in the trunk?”

  “I have mine.”

  “You’re slipping in the mind-reading polls.” Ty strode to a closet near the entryway and threw the doors open. “Formalwear, anyone? Malene sent them over.”

  “I hope she sent my dress chains.” Rock eyed a fabulous nude evening gown that hung in the closet, imagining how Lani would look in and out of it.

  Tate scowled. “I never let the ex dress me. I won’t give her the power, the satisfaction, or the opportunity to dress me in a suit dowsed with itching powder. I have my own tux in the back of the Audi.”

  Ty pulled a package from the closet and tossed it to Rock. “This came for you.”

  Rock caught it, pulled the open tab on the box, opened it, and pulled out a wand. “I’m not some dumb-ass old-school magician. I don’t use wands.”

  Ty came over and inspected it. “That’s not really a wand. That’s your backup gun.”

  Lani took it and gave it a look, too. “A six-shot automatic number. Sleek. Stylish. Very nice. I want one. I could use one if Sol gets out of hand.”

  Rock crossed his arms. “I don’t want it.”

  “You don’t have a choice—the wand picks you.” Tate laughed again.

  “I have my thumb gun and the poison ring. That’s plenty.”

  Ty and Tate exchanged a look.

  “Sometimes one shot is not enough,” Tate said. “You’ll take the wand.” He forced it back on Rock.

  “I hope your R and D guy is as good as Britain’s MI6’s Q. Q’s always giving Bond exactly the right weapon for the right Bond movie. A breathing apparatus when he needs one. A protective ball in an avalanche.”

  “Our guy is good, but he can’t predict the future like Q seems to,” Tate said reasonably. “Still, you never want to be in a position where you say, ‘I should have taken the wand gun.’”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “A surfer, a billionaire, and a magician walk into a bar,” Tate said as the four of them got out of the Audi in front of the Magic Castle and turned the car over to the valet.

  Ty wore a white linen suit, dark blue shirt, and shoes with no socks. Lani thought he looked like an updated version of Sonny Crockett from Miami Vice. Tate wore an expensive designer Italian tux and looked as if he were Bond himself, which was so very Tate. Rock wore a midnight-black tux, snowy-white shirt open to his chest, with a bow tie loosely holding it together that made Lani want to run her hands all over that fabulous chest, kiss that Lani forever tattoo that was showing and melting her hard spy heart, and completely divest him of every stitch he wore.

  Mal had sent a nude, curve-enhancing, skintight, mermaid-cut gown for Lani that on first look made her appear naked as she hung on Tate’s arm. The only touch of color she wore was a deep red shade of lipstick. If the way Rock was shooting daggers at Tate and stealing glances at her was any indication, the dress was practically lethal.

  She experienced a momentary flash of guilt. It seemed almost cruel to be hanging on Tate’s arm, cooing to him, laughing with him, and playing up to him right before Rock’s eyes.

  She had to stop thinking like that and feeling guilty. Being around Rock again, she was losing her professional cool. If he still wanted to be in her life once he saw all that she really was, he’d just have to get used to her being undercover and doing what the job required.

  “That’s a nice beginning,” Rock said. “What’s the punch line?”

  “I haven’t worked that out yet.”

  “You’d never make it on the comedy circuit,” Rock said.

  “I guess that rules out being the comic magician.” Tate’s tone was dry as he opened the door to the Castle and held it for Lani, then let the other two in in front of him.

  “Something about putting on a tux turns a guy into a gentleman,” Ty said. “Or an asshole alpha dog. His mom would be proud.”

  “Of being an asshole?” Rock said.

  “No, the alpha dog,” Tate said. “Mom’s a typical former senator’s wife—power hungry to her core. She would have made a great First Lady.”

  For years, Lani had dreamed of going to the Magic Castle. If she’d stayed with Rock, she was sure he would have taken her. It was bittersweet seeing it now as Tate’s date rather than being on Rock’s arm. She was sure Rock would have shown her the innermost workings of the Castle and taken advantage of the enchanted surroundings to impress and seduce her. The thought sent tingles through her. She forced herself to stop thinking about how exquisitely sensual and seductive an evening at the Magic Castle with Rock could have been.

  The lobby of the Magic Castle looked like a nineteenth-century magician’s library—the walls were papered in deep, dark red wallpaper with a filigreed pattern, the woodwork was dark, a fireplace with heavy wrought iron was on one wall, a framed aerial map of the Castle above it, and dark wooden bookcases, the shelves adorned with ornate patterns and filled with dusty leather-bound books of magic filled the rest. To the uninitiated, it looked like they’d hit a dead end. There was no hallway into the building.

  “A one-room castle. Nice,” Ty said.

  In his element, Rock shook his head and strode to the shelf where a bookend in the shape of an owl sat. “Open Sesame.”

  The bookcase opened, revealing a secret passage.

  Tate rolled his eyes. “Rather obvious, isn’t it? You guys need a consultation with a security expert.”

  Rock shook his head and grinned. “We have security cameras inside. If by chance the riffraff sneak in, and they’re always trying, we turn them into newts. Or saw them in half. Or disappear them forever. Or turn them over to the cops as trespassers.”

  Tate laughed. “Nice. You have a fine collection of newts, I assume?”

  Rock grinned. “Where are we meeting our cadre of talented young performers?”

/>   “On one of the small stages.” Tate rattled off the name of the room. “You’ll have to lead the way.”

  Rock nodded. “This way.”

  They walked past a collection of rabbit collectibles—ceramic, glass, and stuffed—past the Victorian dining room where they’d dine later to a small auditorium.

  Thirty-five carefully screened hopefuls filled the room, joking and talking. When Lani walked in with Tate, the kids—none of the young CIA magician hopefuls were older than twenty-eight—quieted. Some looked and subtly pointed. When Rock strode in, they went completely awestruck silent. Rock read surprise on all their faces.

  “Fellow magicians, I’m Rock Powers. You’ll be auditioning for me tonight. Thanks for coming. Welcome and good luck!” Rock held his arms out. A ball of fire appeared in his right hand. He tossed it toward the crowd.

  The crowd of them stepped back. The ball of fire turned into confetti and rained down on them.

  As the young hopefuls applauded, Rock leaned in and whispered to Tate, “So they know this is really an audition for the CIA. But did they know I’m the one who’d be selecting them?”

  “Of course not.” Tate grinned. “The element of surprise is a useful weapon. Never hesitate to wield it.”

  “And do they know the rest of you are secret agents?” Rock asked.

  “No. They think Tate’s here as an Agency consultant. His company does quite a bit of software work for the government. I’m his guest, and Ty is an Agency recruiter.” Lani kept smiling as she spoke. “Only those we choose will find out the truth.”

  Rock nodded, turned on the charm, and dove into the crowd, shaking hands, performing little tricks, letting the kids do small tricks for him.

  Tate leaned in and whispered to Lani, “Stop staring at him like you want to eat him. You’re supposed to be with me tonight. I’m your fantasy man, remember?”

  “Right.” Lani laughed, but she was duly chastised. Why was it so hard to stay in character around Rock? “Just appreciating his showmanship. He knows how to work a crowd.” Lani pasted a smile on her face. “Look, he’s singled out our top contenders. Very good.”

  There were seven of them Lani thought would be right for the job. Odd numbers were good for magic. Lucky. Especially seven. Two girls and five guys. There were another four or five who would do. She wondered whether Rock would see things the same way.

  “A hip-hop street dancer; a geek; a fashion model in a short, skintight, hot-pink dress; a gamer; a guy in a hoodie over his tux; and a girl with a smartphone attached to her ear walk into a magic club,” Tate joked.

  “I have to hand it to these young magicians,” Lani said, studying them. “Their choices of tuxes are interesting and distinctive enough to give their stage personalities away.”

  Lani followed Tate’s line of sight. If anything, he was eying the fashion model, a leggy, blond stunner. “Hey,” she said to Tate. “Follow your own advice. You’re here with me tonight.”

  Tate grinned. “Spoilsport.”

  Rock worked his way back through the crowd to them and whispered to Ty. “Make sure that girl with the cell phone doesn’t take any pictures. They’re prohibited back here in the top-secret part of the club.”

  Ty looked as if he wanted to roll his eyes. “Everything’s jammed.”

  The group of entertainers was staring at them. Rock took over and made introductions. “Let me introduce my guests tonight. Software magnate Tate Cox.”

  There was polite applause.

  “His lady friend, Gillian.”

  Someone hooted.

  “And Ty Smith.”

  More polite applause.

  Before Rock could say more, the hip-hop guy broke into a break-dance, spinning on his head and levitating.

  Head levitation. Now that’s good, Lani thought. He was more impressive in person than on his audition video.

  The hip-hopper did a flip and righted himself into a stand inches in front of Rock.

  “Smokz. The break-dancing, hip-hopping magician. Magic was never so—”

  Rock’s cell phone rang in his pocket.

  “Take the call, man,” Ty said.

  “What the hell? I thought you guys were jamming. And who gave out my number?” Rock said, looking at the fashion model.

  Lani looked at her, too. She wore a flowing, strapless, calf-length dress with sparkles that caught the light from the candelabra overhead.

  “Wasn’t she in pink?” Rock said as he pulled the phone from his pocket. A text popped up. Lani read it over his should.

  Britt, social media magic like you won’t believe. You’re a Sagittarius or I miss my guess.

  Fashion Girl pushed the others aside and extended a beautifully manicured hand. Each of her pink fingernails had a magic symbol painted on them. “Ashley, the fashion magician. I can change in a flash.”

  She tossed something at the floor. Ty and Tate looked about ready to reach for their guns, but Lani knew flash powder when she saw it. And so did Rock.

  When the puff of smoke around Ashley cleared seconds later, she was wearing a brilliant coral dress with a plunging neckline.

  “Impressive.” Tate winked at the girl.

  Lani clutched his arm and curled tighter into him as if she were jealous. Someone had to keep up the act and she didn’t like the way the fashion model was eyeing Tate back and a couple of the girls in the crowd were drooling over Rock.

  The video gamer shook his head. “Zach. I need a stage to do my shit.”

  A regular-looking guy spoke. “Daniel. The same.”

  “Will. Me, too.”

  A chorus of them followed.

  Rock held up his hands and silenced the crowd. “Everyone will get their turn. Let’s get these auditions started.”

  * * *

  Lasers bounced around the stage, controlled by Will as if by magic. They’d already watched more of Smokz’s hip-hop rapper magic. Seen the quick-change artist go through an entire season of fashion in her allotted ten-minute act. Watched Daniel doing amazing tricks with models, making them believe he’d destroyed the Parthenon, toppled the Eiffel Tower, and disappeared the Statue of Liberty. Seen Zach manipulate video games and use them to read people’s minds. Watched as Britt manipulated social media sites at will and used them to predict the future. And now Will was shooting lasers into the audience. Bending laser beams. Cutting them. Disappearing behind them and reappearing on another part of the stage. And watched the rest of the thirty-five contestants, except for one, Jake.

  To watch him, they’d have to head to the alley. But Rock was pretty sure of what they’d see—a man who could jump off tall buildings and disappear into thin air. Reappear where he wanted. Hard to perform on stage, but genius.

  Rock had already decided who he wanted on his team. He leaned in and whispered his choices to Lani, who sat next to him, “Will, Smokz, Daniel, Zach, Ashley, and Britt. I still need my alien. I’m hoping Jake’s our guy.”

  Lani nodded. “They were my top picks as far as their illusions and expertise with magic. Ashley’s a little weak with her shooting skills and Daniel’s written test indicated his verbal skills were on the low side. He isn’t much good with languages. But we can work around all that. Tate? Ty?”

  “Britt has a bit of a tell,” Ty said. “Nothing we can’t train out of her.”

  “And Smokz looks like a hothead,” Tate said.

  “Jake, our parkour wizard, I assume he jumps from buildings and disappears? That he does what appear to be superhuman stunts?” Rock said.

  Ty nodded. “Yeah.”

  Rock turned to Tate again. “How deep are your pockets? I need those seven young magicians.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ty, Tate, Lani, and Rock settled in for the night at the Enchanted Castle Inn, conveniently located less than a block from the Castle. It didn’t have quite the same ambience, and it wasn’t exclusive, but it was convenient.

  They met in Tate’s room for a post–magic audition conference. Ty finished settin
g up jammers. The CIA guys had jamming and security on the brain.

  Rock watched Ty’s preparations. “Kind of gives jam pants a new meaning, doesn’t it?”

  Tate gave him a quizzical look.

  “Old Eddie Izzard joke about a gadget for Bond—jam pants. You know how Q always makes Bond the exact right gadget for the right time? Izzard imagined Q giving Bond jam pants. And Bond’s thinking, What the hell am I supposed to do with these? It’s a funny routine.

  “Though I think the comedian really meant pants made of jam, as in jelly that you spread on toast. Maybe a more correct term for ours would be jamming pants.” He paused. “That doesn’t sound quite right, either. Jammer pants?” Rock shook his head side to side as if weighing the idea. “Could be a new trend. If we got the right designer.”

  Rock watched Ty set up the last of the jammers. “Maybe our billionaire here would like to invest?”

  Tate laughed and shook his head. “No. Too much of a niche item. I put my money on mass appeal.”

  “Jammer pants, I’ll suggest that to our version of Q.” Ty took a seat in a chair across from Rock.

  Tate walked to the minibar and poured himself a glass of bourbon. “Drink, anyone? Rock, money aside, why haven’t you tried staging a smaller version of your Space Invaders illusion?”

  “Are you kidding?” Rock said. “I don’t do anything half-assed. Until I had full capabilities, I wasn’t risking it.

  “Besides, the last thing I needed was the government watching me.” He realized what he’d said and laughed. “With the airport hangar to Area 51 across the street from the hotel I perform at? I’d be branded a nutcase if word got out before I was ready. Or a threat to the U.S. government’s top-secret military installation.

  “Hell, it’s bad enough already. With my fame, money, and apparently psychic abilities and magical tendencies, people might start to believe I’m part of MJ-12. Or a half-breed alien myself. After all, the identity of my biological old man is pretty much a mystery, even to me.”

  The secret agents stared at him as if he were a little touched. Maybe it was already too late to save his reputation.