Matteo (Her Warlock Protector Book 8): A Paranormal Romance Novel

by Hazel Hunter

  “Oh, I see,” Conleth said, gazing at the cover for a moment.

  At it switched hands, Natalie saw the cover. It was a photograph of gloves, a wand, and playing cards. It was a beginner’s book on magic tricks.

  Conleth opened it to the title page and removed the cap from his fountain pen.

  “To a fellow magician,” he said as he wrote in an elegant longhand. “May your magic always sparkle.” He gave the little girl a wink. “Your friend, Conleth the Great.”

  He underlined his name twice, pocketed the pen, and closed the cover.

  “Thank you, Mr. Conleth,” the woman gushed. “She’s such a big fan.”

  Finally the little girl moved, gingerly taking the book back and then hugging it to her chest. The woman’s daughter could hardly be more than seven. Maybe eight? Natalie’s heart melted.

  “Oh, a fan?” Conleth said, frowning dramatically. “Well, I’m not too sure about that.”

  He reached his hand behind the little girl’s ear. There was hardly time for her to turn her head, when a fan appeared in Conleth’s hand. He spread it open as he showed it to her. Alternating burgundy and black, its reflective folds shimmered. Natalie recognized it as one of the props they’d used years ago.

  “It seems you are right, Madam,” Conleth said.

  He closed the fan and presented it to the girl with both hands.

  Eyes wide and mouth open, she held out her hands. Whether she knew she was still holding the book or not, Natalie couldn’t tell. But Conleth gently laid the fan on top of it.

  “Only the most beautiful fan for such a charming fan,” he said.

  “Oh my god,” the woman said. “How did you–” She gaped at the fan. “How could you possibly–”

  Conleth gave the little girl another wink. “We magicians have to keep our secrets, eh?”

  “Thank you!” the woman said. “Honey,” she said to her daughter. “What do you say?”

  But the little girl gave no notice that she’d heard. She was putting the fan behind her ear.

  “Well thank you from both of us,” the girl’s mother said, taking her by the shoulders. “Thank you for everything!”

  As she steered her daughter away, Natalie realized several people were taking photos, maybe even videos. Conleth waved and posed, as she smiled her best stage smile—no hard feat after watching him work some real magic.

  When everyone seemed satisfied, Conleth raised his eyebrows at her. “Are we ready?”

  She waited for Conleth to hold her chair, then took his proffered elbow. But just as they passed the maitre’d, someone called from behind.

  “Mr. Conleth,” said someone. “Could I get a picture?”

  A young couple were trotting over.

  “Do you mind, my dear?” Conleth said.

  “Of course not,” Natalie said. “I’ll be outside.”

  There were always a few people who wanted photos, and she had learned years ago that when they asked for a photo, they wanted it with the star.

  “Thank you,” he said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “Shan’t be long.”

  “Take your time,” she said, though she needn’t have.

  Depending on how many props were secreted away in his suit, it might be a while. She smiled after him as he went to the couple. She turned to walk into the soaring terrarium at the restaurant’s entrance. It sailed up three stories to a glass ceiling. Brilliant sunshine washed the entire space, lush with plants and trees. She idly took a small path of flagstones past a stand of blooming birds of paradise.

  “He’s quite the showboat,” said a voice behind her.

  Startled, she jumped a little and turned. She’d thought she was alone. It took her a moment to recognize the man on the path behind her.

  “Mr. Rivera,” she said.

  Alistair Rivera was a magician—young, attractive, and on the rise. He did a high-tech show with close-up cameras and giant screens. Cell phones and tablets were a theme: having them play videos, making them float, or having them appear in the pockets of his audience. Loud techno music blared, and he and his assistant could both dance.

  He glanced over his shoulder and dropped his voice.

  “So, that last set,” he said, “with you in the tank.” He glanced one way and then the other. “What’s the deal?”

  She shook a finger at him. “I never disappear and tell, Mr. Rivera. You should–”

  “Alistair,” he said, smiling too much. “Please, call me Alistair.”

  She forced herself to smile. He was standing too close, so she backed up “Alistair,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll understand if I keep that to myself.”

  Half the magicians in the world were beside themselves to know Conleth’s secret. But unlike some of the others in that exclusive fraternity, Conleth was determined to have his secret die with him.

  “Sure, sure,” Alistair said, stepping forward. “Of course. Professional behavior and all that.” He snatched up her hand. “But just between you and me. How is it done?”

  Though she tried to tug her hand free, he had a tight grip. “Smoke and mirrors,” she said, getting angry. “Let go of my hand.”

  Now he grabbed her wrist. Like any magician, his hands were quick and strong.

  “A false door?” he said, yanking her close. She smelled alcohol. “A second tank?”

  “Let me go,” she said, louder this time. She pushed on his chest, but he didn’t move.

  “What are you doing with an old has-been like him anyway?” he demanded.

  “Selling out the Grand Ballroom,” Conleth said. His hand appeared on Alistair’s shoulder. “Unhand her, young man.”

  Though Alistair let her go, he spun toward Conleth and shoved him. “Let go of me, old man!”

  “No!” Natalie yelled.

  Conleth teetered back. Though she tried to get past Alistair, it was too late. Off-balance, Conleth lurched sideways and fell into the plants.

  “Conleth!” she yelled, but Alistair grabbed her arm, and jerked her around to face him.

  “Tell me,” he shouted. “Tell me how it’s done. It can’t be that hard. Otherwise he couldn’t–”

  A dark form sailed past Natalie’s ear with an audible whoosh. In the next moment, Alistair’s head snapped back, and blood spurted from his nose. A giant hand grabbed the shirt on his chest, before a broad back cut off her view. Stunned for a moment, Natalie realized she was free to back up and did. She watched as the big man lowered the unconscious Alistair to the flagstones, and then quickly turned to her.

  “Matteo!” she said.

  • • • • •

  Without thinking, Matteo took Natalia by the shoulders. “Are you all right?” He looked her up and down. “Did he hurt you?”

  “I’m okay,” she said, though she rubbed her wrist.

  “Let me see,” he said, gently taking her hand. Dull blue blotches were already forming. He could hardly see straight through the fury. “These are going to be bruises.”

  The sound of pounding feet made him look up. Three security men were running in their direction, with Naldo lumbering behind. Matteo snapped his fingers at the unconscious man on the path behind him.

  “Make sure he’s not dead, then escort him off the premises.”

  “Boss,” Naldo said, between heavy breaths. “What happened?”

  “Oh my god!” Natalia gasped, suddenly remembering. “Conleth!”

  “Conleth?” Matteo said. “Where?”

  “Down here, if you please,” came a voice from behind Naldo.

  The short man turned toward the sound. As though he were diving into the foliage, he put his hands together and parted the thick leaves. Conleth was sprawled on his back.

  “Paramedics,” Matteo said over his shoulder.

  One of the security guards turned away and spoke into his wrist.

  Naldo bent down and lifted Conleth to a sitting position.

  “Careful!” Natalia said, squeezing past the plants to Conleth’s other side.
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  He accepted both their outstretched hands. “I’ll sit up.”

  As they slowly helped him forward, Matteo saw his face. How the man had aged. Intellectually he knew that was the case, of course. But to see how frail he had become was shocking. Natalia had said he was dying, though she hadn’t said of what.

  Matteo stepped through plants, flattening some as he moved around the small group until he was in back of Conleth. He lifted from under the thin man’s shoulders, until he was upright.

  “I can stand,” Conleth said.

  “Are you sure?” Natalia asked.

  “Let us try,” Conleth said.

  As they carefully raised him to his feet, Matteo gradually let him take his own weight. He glanced at the restaurant entrance where there was a growing crowd of onlookers.

  “Naldo,” Matteo said quietly. “Make sure the guards escort that fool out the other way. And then go toke the crowd.”

  “Right, Boss,” Naldo said.

  Though it was generally gamblers who toked dealers with casino chips as a way of tipping them, Naldo would be offering them some free gambling on the house as an incentive to disperse.

  When Naldo let Conleth’s arm go, Matteo replaced him, opposite Natalia.

  “Are you all right?” Natalia asked, just as the casino’s paramedics showed up. Two men in dark pants and white polo shirts both carried orange tool boxes.

  “I believe I am,” Conleth said, brushing off the back of his pants.

  “Maybe the paramedics ought to be the judge of that,” Matteo suggested.

  For the first time since the entire thing had begun, Conleth looked at him. Nearly as tall as Matteo, their eyes met.

  “You,” Conleth breathed.

  He tried to jerk his arm free of Matteo’s grasp. But Matteo didn’t let go until he was sure Natalia had a good grip.

  “I will thank you to unhand me,” he said.

  One of the paramedics eyed the spot on the flagstones where some blood had dripped. Then he looked at Conleth.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “Certainly not,” Conleth said.

  He ran thin fingers through his hair and smoothed out his mustache. His steely eyes appraised Matteo, then they flicked to Natalia.

  “Did you know he was here?”

  “No,” she said. “Well, yes.” She paused, looking between them both. “Not until last night.”

  “I see,” Conleth said stiffly.

  He removed her hand from his arm. Though he started back toward the restaurant, Naldo was still trying to corral the onlookers. Conleth reversed direction passing them, heading the direction the security guards had hauled the unconscious man.

  “Conleth,” Natalia said. “Wait.”

  She started after him but stopped. With a light touch, she briefly grasped Matteo’s upper arm. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Then she hurried after the old man, who was moving slowly. “Conleth, please. I can explain.”

  Matteo watched them go until they disappeared around a bend in the path. Then he covered the spot on his arm where she had touched him.

  9

  YURI SLOKAVICH GLIDED effortlessly in the plastic pool chair. Clear, warm water lapped over his swim trunks as he rested his sunset-colored cocktail in the built-in cupholder. Even with his shades on, the sun was bright. Even after all this time, he could hardly believe it was November.

  “Bring me more sunscreen,” he said to the woman reclining on the closest chaise lounge.

  Like the others, she lay on her stomach and wore a fluorescent string bikini that was untied. Hers was bright green. Although she didn’t look at him, she picked up the strings and held them together behind her. Yuri grinned as she swiveled her hips and moved her long, tan legs to the side of the lounge. As she stood, he exchanged a look with Pyotr, his second in command. The man seemed to wear a permanent smirk. Dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, he might have passed for one of the tourists. He’d even let his hair grow long, and slicked it back. Though his eyes were hidden behind the mirrored Ray-Bans, his head moved to follow the girl.

  Yuri paddled closer to the edge.

  “Put it on my back,” he told the girl, who smelled like coconut.

  “Then I’ll have to tie my suit,” she said, one hand behind her.

  “Or not,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

  “Oh,” she said, bending over at the edge of the tile, holding out the sunscreen. “In front of all the guests?”

  “Maybe yes,” Yuri said, trying to imagine it.

  She was a stripper, after all. He’d seen her naked more than he’d seen her clothed.

  “Don’t do it, Yuri,” Pyotr said, a warning tone in his voice.

  Yuri’s lip curled at the sound, but he looked toward the other end of the long pool. Families were splashing around. No doubt these visitors to the Aces High hotel and casino would have quite the story to tell—not that Yuri cared what they thought. But he did care about the bottom line. His tongue touched his gold eye-tooth, something he did when he thought about money. The profit margin was good on casinos, but not that good. His brother had been better at managing them. But Yegor was dead now. Yuri was in charge of them all—and the growing collection of strip clubs.

  “Fine,” he said, grabbing the tube from her. She gave him a pout, strolled slowly back to her lounge, and made a show of arranging the towel. “No tan lines,” Yuri called after her. “I hate tan lines,” he muttered.

  Pyotr’s phone rang. The damn thing was always ringing. But as Yuri popped open the tube of white cream, something in Pyotr’s stillness alerted him. Pyotr took off his glasses and stared at Yuri.

  “You sure?” he said into the phone.

  He listened for a moment before his mouth made an awful frown. Without a reply he turned off the phone.

  “What?” Yuri said, suddenly sweating.

  “Matteo Monti,” Pyotr said, narrowing his eyes. “He’s back.”

  10

  ALONE WITH CONLETH on the giant stage, Natalie’s words echoed.

  “I didn’t know he was here,” she said.

  “Really,” Conleth said, the word clipped and his voice tight. He tightened the straitjacket. “He didn’t seem surprised to see you.”

  Natalie looked over her shoulder at him. “I mean before we came here.” She held her arms slightly away from her body. “You’re the one who chose the Hotel Paradiso,” she reminded him.

  “And when did you know Matteo was here?”

  He finished buckling her one arm into position.

  “Last night,” she admitted.

  He stopped what he was doing. “And you said nothing?”

  The hurt in his voice stabbed into her chest, but what could she say? That Matteo had threatened to stop the show? That she’d be having dinner with him this evening?

  “I didn’t want to distract you with it,” she said, hearing how hollow her words sounded.

  “I see,” he said. He buckled the second sleeve in place. “You may sit down.”

  His heels clicked on the polished floorboards. Beyond the stage lights, the enormous theater was pitch black. But Natalie had no doubt that they were alone, especially after this morning. If Conleth was sure of anything, it was keeping the act a secret. Entrance to any rehearsal was strictly forbidden, even to security. They had to wait outside.

  As she watched Conleth move past the curtain into the wings, she realized he was limping a little. He’d been hurt during the scuffle with Alistair, but hadn’t said a word. No doubt he didn’t want to appear weak, particularly in front of Matteo.

  At the thought of him, her stomach fluttered. Despite what she’d said the night before, it had been good to see him. When he’d touched her, though it had been brief, she thought she might melt. His eyes had bored into hers as though they had looked into her soul. His hands had left her skin tingling.

  “Are you ready?” Conleth called.

  Natalie blinked as Matteo’s sparkling eyes va
nished.

  “Ready,” she said.

  Her feet were already locked into the specially designed boots. A loud clunk reverberated in the empty theater, followed by a low whine. Conleth had activated the hoist.

  The metal platform to which her boots where attached began to lift. As it raised her feet to eye level, she slowly laid back. She tilted her head to one side as her shoulders rolled backward. As the pressure on her neck and back lessened, the tug on her feet and ankles increased. She bent her knees to lift a little and keep her head from hitting the ground. No sooner was she clear of it than the hoist stopped.

  She watched as an upside-down Conleth strode back to her. He bent low and showed her the stop watch, a large, almost bulbous steel and glass antique.

  “You have one minute and fifty seconds.”

  “That’s awfully tight,” she said. There would be no margin for error.

  She subconsciously spun the snug titanium ring on her finger. On its inner surface was the small shim she would use as a lock pick.

  “Tight of necessity,” Conleth said standing. “Fire, my dear, is unpredictable. Fire combined with acetone requires, shall we say, extra caution.”

  The Living Torch trick depended on the ropes holding her foot-board being on fire. She would need to escape the straitjacket, grab the lifeline attached to the hoist, and swing away before the ropes burned and the platform dropped.

  Conleth clicked the stopwatch. “Go!”

  She began immediately. What appeared to anyone watching as though she were writhing uncontrollably was actually her using the little slack she had. She shook back and forth, twisting upside down, moving her arm closer and closer to her head.

  “The ropes are on fire,” Conleth said. “The flames are making their way down to the platform.” Although it wasn’t true at the moment, this was part of the rehearsal. “You are fifty feet in the air.”

  As she pulled her one arm up her body, she tilted her head almost ninety degrees getting ready to duck underneath.

  “Thirty seconds left!” Conleth said. “The top of the board is burning. You can feel the heat in the soles of your feet!”