A Touch of Magic

by Isabelle Adler

  “Coming?”

  Ty came up to him, having concluded the check-in, and handed him his room card. Cary took it and followed Ty to the guest elevators. He caught a glimpse of the lavish expanse of the casino floor, but they weren’t there to hit the slot machines.

  “I could get used to this,” Cary said as he plopped down on the sofa in the sunken living area of their suite. The contrast with the shabby San Francisco motel was staggering. The marble bathroom alone was large enough to fit most of his apartment. “This sure looks like people owe you a lot of favors.”

  Ty shrugged. He dropped his duffel bag by the king-sized bed and began to unpack. “It’s not as expensive as it looks.”

  “God, I wish it was always like that. Shit not being as expensive as it looked, I mean.” Cary sat up. The huge bed with its multitude of pillows looked cozy, and for a brief moment, he let himself indulge in a silly fantasy of staying in a swanky hotel on a vacation or a romantic getaway. He’d never been on a vacation—certainly not a romantic one. For one, these things cost money he didn’t have, and for another, he had to actually be in a romantic relationship with someone, which had never happened.

  It wasn’t that he was opposed to having a romantic relationship, precisely. It just never worked out for him that way. Now, Ty… Robbery aside, he could really see himself falling for Ty, if he wasn’t careful. He was damn hot, that was for sure. That lean physique, the beautiful eyes, the sensual curve of his lips… Oh, yeah. Even now, he couldn’t help being slightly aroused just from looking at Ty’s rear as he unpacked his bag.

  But it was also so much more than that. Cary could appreciate professionalism, and Ty was definitely smart and competent. And, surprisingly, compassionate. It was ironic that the only man who really listened to Cary and offered some genuine encouragement was the one he had to watch his back around.

  The thought was too depressing to dwell on, and he pushed it firmly out of his mind for the moment. “So, what do we do now?”

  Tony Giordano and his entourage were arriving in Vegas the next day, which didn’t leave them a lot of time. Cary still had only a vague notion of what was about to go down, and none of the details. He didn’t like being left in the dark, and he didn’t like feeling useless. Ty might know what he was doing, but Cary would have liked to share in that knowledge.

  Ty grabbed a folder with his notes and joined Cary in the sitting area, taking the chair facing the sofa. He spread out large sheets of paper on the glass coffee table. They were hand-drawn charts of the casino floor.

  “Sebastian will be here later today,” he said. “He’s basically our bait. His job is to pose as a high roller, rub shoulders with Giordano, and provide us with access to the little shindig of theirs.”

  He pointed to a small square near one of the corridors that led off the main floor.

  “This is the private room. It’s small, with only one poker table, but it has a bar, a lounge area, and an en suite bathroom. This is where you come in.”

  “In the bathroom?”

  “At the bar. How are you at mixing drinks?”

  “You want me to bartend?” Cary was reasonably sure he could pull it off—he’d tended bar briefly in a local nightclub before landing the gig at the Garland Theater—so he was familiar with the basics, at least. The men whom he’d be serving weren’t likely to ask for anything overly exotic or trendy, after all. But when he said he wanted to take a more active role in the operation, this wasn’t exactly what he meant.

  Ty looked up at him. His dark hazel eyes were serious. “You have the most important task. Giordano will be wearing the ring, so neither Bas nor I can touch him with magic. You’ll have to get close enough to him to swipe the amulet, and this is the only way to get you inside that room without causing suspicion.”

  “Are you sure they won’t recognize me, though?” Cary asked.

  “I don’t think any of them would. Tony for sure has never seen you, and any of his goons that might happen to be there would remember the magician costume more than anything else, if they’d checked you out at all. Besides, there are ways to make oneself less noticeable. With the right spell, most of them would look right past you. The only one you’ll have to worry about is Tony, and Bas is there to distract him.”

  He made it all sound so easy. And picking someone’s pocket would normally be child’s play for Cary. But the prospect of being alone in a closed room with crime bosses and their armed bodyguards filled him with a very real dread. Being caught stealing in such company wouldn’t go down well, fancy hotel or not, and Sebastian didn’t strike him as the type who’d have his back in a sticky situation.

  Sensing Cary’s hesitation, Ty said: “I’ll be right there. Well, not really there there, but I’ll be listening in.”

  “How? Can you hack the cameras?”

  Were there even cameras in a private room like that? Cary imagined the casino would want some sort of record of the gambling, but these sorts of people rarely wanted anyone tracking their activities.

  “Not really my area of expertise. But a microphone would be enough. You could easily wear one. It’s not a drug bust; nobody’s gonna strip-search a bartender.”

  Cary wasn’t so sure about that, but he kept his mouth shut. Having Ty watching over him, even if it was only through a mic, was a lot more reassuring than being left on his own with no ability to call for backup.

  “Once you have the amulet, get out of there as fast as you can, before Giordano notices it’s missing,” Ty continued. “You’ll have to be quick. I’ll be waiting for you here.” He indicated a sketched in circle around a tiny symbol on the side of the chart. “The escalator to the second level, which leads to the parking garage. Then we haul ass.”

  “What about Monroe?”

  “He can take care of himself. Trust me, he knows what he’s doing.” Ty looked at him. “So, what do you say? Are you up to it?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  Truth be told, Cary wasn’t thrilled about the plan. In fact, if he was being completely honest with himself, he was scared shitless. It depended entirely too much on other people—people he basically knew nothing about—and he’d had his fair share of making bad decisions when it came to falling in with the wrong crowd. He could almost hear his granddad berating his teenage self about his no-good friends, and this time, he was inclined to agree with him. Except now, it wasn’t just taking the fall for an armed robbery. This could get him killed.

  “Of course you have a choice,” Ty said, with a hint of annoyance. “You came to me, remember? Nobody’s holding a gun to your head. If you feel you can’t do it, then don’t. No harm, no foul. I’ll manage on my own.”

  It was tempting to take the chance to bail out. He didn’t belong here; he was in over his head with this caper. But that would also mean giving up on the amulet. On the only truly magical thing that connected him with his grandfather’s memory. On any chance he had for success. Was it worth taking that much of a risk—of staking his life on the competence of complete strangers?

  Probably not. But as his granddad had always complained to him, he was a helluva stubborn fellow, especially when he was being self-destructive. He was already losing a ton of money, with his shows being canceled. If he ever wanted to get out of debt, he’d have to plow on like he intended. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been aware of the dangers from the start. To quit now would be a coward’s way out, and he wasn’t ready to admit defeat just yet.

  “Yeah, okay. I can do it.”

  “You sure?” Ty didn’t look too convinced. Maybe he was also beginning to question Cary’s capabilities, given his apparent lack of confidence. But if there was anything Cary was good at, it was sleight of hand. So yes, he was sure he could do it. The only concern was getting away alive after he did it.

  He opened his mouth to say precisely that, but the suite door suddenly burst open without any warning. They both surged to their feet, and Ty moved a step forward, placing himself between the door and Cary, a
s if shielding him from the intruder. He reached under his jacket for the holstered gun.

  “Surprise, darlings!” Sebastian announced, shutting the door with his heel. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, with his dark hair cut short and sleeked back, and a huge gold signet ring on his little finger—sans the nail polish—he looked every inch the flashy nouveau-riche businessman. It took Cary a moment to recognize him.

  “For fuck’s sake, Bas,” Ty said, relaxing. He looked pissed off and relieved at the same time, and threw Cary a look that was almost embarrassed. “Could you not do that?”

  “Where’s the fun in knocking, sweetie?” Sebastian said, unfazed, as he joined them in the sunken sitting area. “Nothing interesting ever happens after you knock.”

  Cary sat back down, his heart hammering. They were jumpy, it seemed, even though they had no real cause for anxiety. Giordano wasn’t going to arrive until tomorrow morning, so who would possibly be looking for them? That is, aside from a crazy sorcerer seemingly bent on giving them both a scare.

  “How did you get in without a key card?” he demanded.

  Sebastian sat down, sprawling in an elegant chaise longue, and gave Cary a look that suggested he was questioning his intellectual prowess. Sebastian’s eyes, eerily translucent in his pale face, made Cary uncomfortable to meet them.

  “He used an unlocking spell,” Ty explained before Cary had the chance to get riled up.

  “What’s that?”

  “Anything you wish it to be, darling,” Sebastian said with a lazy drawl. “Anything at all.”

  It was all Cary could do not to grit his teeth. The guy’s attitude was beyond frustrating, and it put Cary’s nerves even more on edge.

  Thankfully, Ty interjected again.

  “He’s right. The wording doesn’t matter, only the intent behind it. The spell has no power in itself. It’s only a tool to help you focus the magical energy and direct it to the specific purpose you have in mind. You can say ‘Aperio’, or ‘Open, Sesame’, or quote a Taylor Swift song—as long as you’re channeling the energy into opening the lock. The same goes for every other spell. It’s not what you say, or how you say it, or what language you’re speaking. It’s how you use the words in order to focus the magic inside you.”

  “Fine,” Cary said, a bit testily. “Whatever. Although I’m a little disturbed by the idea of you being familiar with Taylor Swift’s songs.”

  Sebastian huffed in amusement. He peered over at the table and cocked his head, examining the spread-out papers.

  “Strategizing, I see?”

  “We were just going over the details.” Ty took his seat again. “You all settled?”

  “Yes, in the Renaissance Suite. Can’t beat that view. And the wet bar,” Sebastian added after a moment’s thought.

  Cary still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that these people could afford staying at such a fancy place. Ty lived in a shady motel; Sebastian’s home was no better than a slum. And now they were basking in luxury he’d ever only glimpsed in glossy ads. It seemed unreal, suspiciously like a scam of some sort, and it bothered him that he could neither unequivocally banish the doubts nor put his finger on the con. He’d have to be careful, and the mob boss wasn’t the only one he had to watch out for.

  “How exactly are you planning on crashing Giordano’s poker party?” he asked, a little more sharply than he intended. “If that’s such an exclusive bunch, why would they pick you, of all people?”

  “Why, it’s my irresistible charm, darling,” Bas said with a lazy smile that made Cary bristle instinctively. “The crispy green kind, mostly.”

  “I’m sure you won’t be the only one on the floor with money to burn. And whoever Giordano’s poker buddies are, would they fall for your particular blend of crazy?”

  Bas cocked an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something, but Ty cut in.

  “You’re right. It’s an exclusive bunch. In fact, let’s go over these ‘poker buddies’.”

  He produced a thin paper folder and took out several pages, with a photo attached to each, and laid them out on the coffee table.

  “First, we have Tony.” There was a picture of Giordano smiling that cold, reptilian smile. The page listed his basic game patterns and gambling habits—information that Ty must have obtained from the casino employees. The same points were covered for the rest of the players, four in number. Once again, Cary couldn’t help but be impressed with the sheer amount of work Ty had managed to put in in such a relatively short time.

  “Angelo Rossi, Tony’s cousin and second-in-command,” Ty said, going over the rest of the files. “Frank Biagi, a big shot in the Conti family from the East Coast and a real-estate entrepreneur; John Gladden, an independent consultant working for a growing arms-producing company; and Rodger Gordon, an investment banker from North Carolina.”

  “These are some odd choices,” Cary said, looking over the pictures of rich men in expensive suits.

  “Not really. Whatever Tony’s relationship with Angelo, he’s keeping him close for now. Biagi’s an old pal of Tony’s, and my guess is this Gladden fellow is there because Tony is actively seeking financial backing for his future political campaign from major companies that would support his agenda. Now, Gordon is the least remarkable one there and clearly invited as a cash cow.” Ty tapped the photo of an elderly, pudgy gentleman with a bland face. “That’s the one we need to eliminate so that Bas can take his place.”

  “Eliminate how?” Cary asked. He didn’t think Ty would do anything extreme, but it never hurt to make sure he wasn’t getting himself involved in something more sinister than he’d bargained for.

  “Relax,” Bas said. He leaned in to snatch Gordon’s photo off the table and flipped it between his long fingers like a playing card. “Nobody’s gonna whack him over the head and bury him out in the desert. I’ll merely…distract him. It is Vegas, after all, the Sin City. Poker is hardly the only temptation to lure the not-so-innocent.” The photo disappeared with a snap.

  Cary wasn’t exactly satisfied with the vagueness of this statement, but he had a feeling that was all he was going to get.

  “Fine,” he said. “So long as there’s no whacking.”

  “Certainly not on my part, but I can’t speak for the gentleman in question,” Bas murmured with a beatific smile. “I suppose I should get on it, though.”

  He got up, straightening his jacket with a motion so gracefully casual it was as if he wore suits in his day-to-day life rather than threadbare silk robes. And who the hell knew, perhaps he did. Perhaps he was a bank teller, or an accountant, and that whole Gothic warlock getup was simply an act to fool gullible customers. Cary couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.

  “So long, darlings. Get back to whatever it was you were doing.” Sebastian gathered the files to take with him and winked at them. He tucked the folder under his arm and squeezed Ty’s shoulder, pausing.

  “Oh, and Ty? Tell him,” he added in a very audible whisper and then sauntered toward the door.

  Chapter Ten

  “TELL ME WHAT?” Cary asked suspiciously as the door closed behind Sebastian.

  Ty grimaced. Bas was right, of course. He should tell Cary about his magical talent. He didn’t feel right about withholding such crucial information. It was unfair, and it was downright dangerous in the long run. If Cary’s powers should suddenly manifest, the result would be unpredictable. He needed someone to train him, to guide him, to teach him as much about concealment and discretion as about casting spells and channeling energy. Someone competent, who knew what he was doing.

  It bugged him that Bas had picked up on all of that so fast—not only on Cary’s untapped potential, but also that Ty had hidden that particular insight from him. But then, Bas had uncanny acumen when it came to human motivation.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  He would tell Cary about the magic, just not now. They needed to keep their focus on the job at hand. He didn’t have the time or the patience to a
nswer all the questions a budding sorcerer would undoubtedly have. He could do it after they were done with the heist.

  On second thought, perhaps he couldn’t.

  “Are you two…?” Cary paused meaningfully.

  “What?” Ty looked at him in confusion, and then understanding dawned. He snorted and shook his head. “No. We’re just business partners. On occasion. He’s even more of a loner than I am. He just likes to tease. I think he was trying to make you jealous. I’m definitely not his type.”

  “Why would I be jealous?” Cary asked, a touch defensively.

  Ty was a bit stung by that. Which was silly, because there was nothing going on between Cary and him. And he wasn’t looking for a relationship, or even counting on a hook-up beyond what had happened that first night. And after all this was over, he wasn’t going to see Cary ever again.

  It bothered him even more that the thought made him a little sad.

  Ty shrugged it all off and, without looking at Cary, busied himself with collecting his drawings. “No idea.”

  “And who’s his type?” Cary asked.

  “I’m not sure he even has a type. At least, I’ve never actually seen him with anyone, or heard him talk about them. And even if he did, I’m pretty certain he could do better than me.”

  “Don’t say that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

  Ty raised an eyebrow at the dubious compliment.

  “I mean, you’re a cool guy. And, like, handsome,” Cary hastened to explain. “I mean, you’re definitely attractive.” A faint blush tinged his cheeks.

  “Thanks,” Ty said, grinning at his chagrin. “You’re definitely attractive too.”

  There was a charged pause as they continued to gaze at each other, Cary’s dark eyes locked on his. Cary’s lips parted slightly, and for a second, Ty thought he was going to issue an invitation, either explicit or unspoken. But Cary turned away and yawned rather exaggeratedly.