Black Magic

by Steven Henry

  “Evening,” Carlyle said.

  “Hey. It’s me.”

  “I wasn’t sure I’d be hearing from you again,” he said.

  “Neither was I,” she replied. “But I said I’d see you around.”

  “I’d not forgotten it.”

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’m at your disposal.”

  “Face to face.”

  “Name the place. I’ll find a way to get there.”

  She smiled to herself. “It’s not far. You still remember where I live.”

  “Aye.”

  “Be there in an hour.”

  “My pleasure.”

  She hung up. At the next stoplight, she looked herself in the eye in the rear-view mirror. The woman who looked back was tired and stressed, but determined. She nodded. She’d avoided this long enough. It was time to have it out.

  Chapter 21

  Erin spent longer than she should have picking out what to wear. She couldn’t decide on comfort versus formality versus attractiveness. If she’d been going out on a date, she’d have gone with her black velvet dress. That was too much. If it were a business meeting, she’d have worn her work blouse and slacks. But that wasn’t quite right, either.

  Finally, with just a few minutes to spare, she finally dug out her one and only professional skirt. It was a knee-length black pencil skirt. She selected a dark red blouse to go with it. She didn’t have time for much makeup, but she dabbed on a little to hide the shadows under her eyes and tied her hair back in her usual ponytail. Rolf watched her preparations with his head resting between his paws. He knew something was up, but not what.

  The K-9 heard Carlyle’s approach before Erin did, springing to his feet and padding toward the door. Carlyle had apparently gotten past the building’s outer door with no trouble at all. Erin wasn’t surprised. Guys like him had ways of getting in. She went into the entryway and waited. Her doorbell rang a moment later.

  She double-checked the peephole, just in case. For all she knew, those goons who’d tried to tune her up were still out there somewhere. But it was Carlyle. He was wearing a freshly-cleaned dark-gray suit. Instead of his usual dark necktie, he’d opted for burgundy silk. His handsome face was outwardly calm, but she knew him well enough to see the tension just under the surface. He had a brown paper bag in his right hand.

  Erin gave it a moment, so he wouldn’t know she’d been lurking just inside. Then she took a deep breath and opened the door.

  “Evening, Carlyle,” she said.

  “Evening, Erin.”

  “C’mon in.” She stepped back. He came into the apartment and exchanged a brief glance with Rolf. The Shepherd eyed him coolly, deciding that as long as his partner was okay with the Irishman, so was he. But Rolf kept close to Erin’s side as she led the way into the living room.

  “You want a drink?” she offered. She’d set out her whiskey and a pair of glasses ahead of time.

  He smiled and produced a matching bottle of Glen Docherty-Kinlochewe from the paper bag. “I’ve come prepared.”

  “Mine’s already open,” she said and poured them each a shot. Once she took a seat on her couch, Rolf settled down on his belly. Carlyle sat in her armchair, straight-backed, still tense.

  “Relax,” Erin said. “I won’t bite.”

  He smiled again. “Forgive me, Erin. I confess, I’m not knowing quite what to expect.”

  She took a sip of whiskey, welcoming the familiar heat. “It’s been a rough few days,” she said.

  “Successful ones, I gather,” he said.

  “How do you know that?” she replied. “It’s not on the news yet.”

  “You’ve an air of the chase about you when you’re still in the hunt,” he said. “While I’m thinking you’re not entirely satisfied, you’ve a sense of accomplishment, if I don’t miss my guess.”

  “You’re right,” she said. “We caught him. It was the magician himself. He sabotaged his own magic trick, went up there in front of a whole theater full of people. Can you imagine that? He committed premeditated murder in front of six hundred New Yorkers who were all looking right at him. You know the guts it takes to pull a stunt like that?”

  “Perhaps he thought it was so obvious, no one would suspect him,” Carlyle said.

  “Yeah,” Erin said. She laughed quietly. “It took me long enough to tumble to it. His assistant was stealing from him and sleeping with the competition. I think it was the betrayal more than the theft that convinced him to kill her, but does it matter? In the end, it was exactly what it appeared to be. That was the trick. There was no trick. No sneaky angle, no cleverness. He had us chasing our tails.”

  “That’s something of a masterpiece of deceit,” he said. “Or would have been, had the lad gotten away with it. It seems he underestimated you.”

  “And Rolf,” she said, reaching down to scratch the dog behind the ears. “This bad boy took a Taser, and it didn’t keep him down.”

  Carlyle nodded. But he still wasn’t relaxed. He continued to watch Erin closely, waiting for some sign or signal. That nervousness was very unusual for him.

  She met his eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. “About you, and... about us.”

  “As have I.”

  “You’re so good at angles,” she said. “You’re always looking ahead, playing everybody, always looking at the long game. I’d always believed you were working an angle. I never figured you might be exactly what you appeared to be. No deception, no cleverness. I thought you were using me, like you use everyone.”

  She saw the flicker of anger in his eyes and held up a hand, stopping the denial before it crossed his lips. “Both of us have benefited from our working relationship,” she went on. “You know it’s true. I’ve closed some tough cases. You got rid of one of your close rivals. Not to mention saving each other’s lives a couple of times. I figured that was all there was to it.”

  “That’s how it started,” he agreed. “But we did become friends, Erin. And I’m sorry I’ve damaged that friendship. If I’d known how you’d take it...”

  “You wouldn’t have kissed me?”

  He shook his head. “Darling, I’d have done just the same. I couldn’t help myself. I knew the attraction between us was real. I may not be a slave to my passions, like Corky, but I’m not made of stone.”

  “He came to see me, you know,” she said.

  “Corky? Why?” Genuine surprise showed on his face.

  “He wanted to convince me to give you a chance.”

  Now Carlyle did look angry. “He’d no right to do that. I’ll have words with the lad.”

  She held up her hand again. “It’s okay. He told me... you were mad about me, I think were his words.”

  His jaw tightened. “Aye,” he said quietly. “That’s true enough.”

  “You’re too smart not to know what a bad idea this whole thing is,” she said.

  He nodded and said nothing.

  “How would it even work?” she asked. “Would there be O’Malley goons coming out of the woodwork all the time?”

  “I’ve dealt with that situation,” he said. “They’ll not be troubling you again.”

  She blinked. “Holy shit,” she blurted out. “Did you kill them?”

  “Nay, nothing of the sort,” he said. “But my lad Ian may have had a bit of a talk with them, convinced them of the error of their ways. I told you, he’s the most dangerous lad in this city. You’ll perhaps not be surprised he carries a bit of a reputation. There’s nothing done to them that won’t mend, but they’ll not darken your door in the future.”

  “So that’s how this goes? I get in a tough spot, and you send one of your muscle guys to protect me?”

  “Aye, Erin, that’s how this works,” he said, leaning forward. “As far as the O’Malleys are concerned, you’re under my protection now. They believe you’re working for me, providing information, arresting my rivals, all that manner of thing.”

  “You let them believe that?�
� she said with an edge to her voice.

  “Aye, since it keeps you safe,” he said. He smiled ruefully. “It’s an unusual thing, pretending to have an insider with the police. But Evan O’Malley’s actually pleased at the prospect. You may recall, his nephew’s inside man was arrested some time ago.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She’d been the one to arrest him.

  “That puts information from your precinct at a bit of a premium, I think you’d agree. He wants to meet you, Erin.”

  “Really?” A cold feeling spread through her stomach.

  “Aye. That’s a good thing, darling. It means he considers you valuable. You’re in, Erin. You’ve nothing to fear from any of my lads, as long as they think you’re one of us.”

  “But I’m not.”

  “I know that, but they needn’t.”

  “You want me to pretend I’m something I’m not for those jerks?” she retorted.

  He shrugged. “I’ve done it for years.”

  That made her pause. She wondered, but didn’t quite say, Who are you really, Carlyle?

  “What about my people?” was what she asked. “What about the NYPD?”

  “What about them?” he echoed. “I’ll never ask you to do anything against your conscience, darling. I’ll not ask you to commit a crime. I can still assist you with your cases, in whatever manner you choose.”

  “But I have to keep things secret from them,” she said.

  “You’re breaking no laws.”

  Erin stared at him. “You’ve thought this through.”

  “I’ve thought of little else these past weeks.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.”

  There it was. The first time he’d said it, and he’d just come right out with it, in his calm, reasonable, conversational voice. But his eyes were soft and open.

  “Why?” she said again, and this time there was a little catch in her voice.

  “Your spirit, darling. Your passion, your determination, your sheer bloody-minded stubbornness. You’ve a lovely face, but your heart is lovelier still. I think you’re the finest lass I’ve ever known.”

  He paused and looked down. “But here’s the trouble, Erin. I’m not a good lad to know. I’ve led a life of trouble and violence. I’ve done terrible things, and the road I’m on will likely lead me to a churchyard or a jail cell. I do love you, darling, but I’ll not ask you to return my feelings.”

  Erin swallowed. “You’re the canniest, cagiest, smartest gangster I’ve ever met,” she said. “And the smoothest son of a bitch I know.” Then she smiled at him. “And damned if you don’t have the sexiest accent.”

  He looked up and returned the smile, a little hesitantly. Erin didn’t think she’d ever seen him quite so uncertain. “What is it you’re wanting from me?” he asked in a near-whisper.

  “I’m not asking you to be sorry for what you’ve done,” she said. “I’m asking if you can be better.”

  “That’s a fair request,” he said. “Aye, for you, I’m thinking I can be.”

  She stared into his eyes. “And you’ve got to promise me something.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Promise me I won’t have to put the cuffs on you someday,” she said. “Because if you make me arrest you, after all this, I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

  He didn’t blink or look away. “I promise.”

  “And one other thing.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’ll fit right in to my world,” he said, his smile broadening. “You’re quite skilled at negotiating.”

  Erin didn’t smile. “Promise you’ll never lie to me.”

  “Erin,” he said, his own smile vanishing, “I’ve never lied to you yet, and I’m not about to start. And now I’ve a question for you.”

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “How do you feel about me?”

  “Damn it, Carlyle,” she said. “I can’t keep away from you. I’m miserable without you. Don’t you know that by now?”

  “Aye,” he said, and the smile was back on his face. “But I wanted to hear you admit it.”

  “I tried not to.”

  “I know.” He took her hands in his own. “And I know it’s inconvenient.”

  “Carlyle?” Their faces were only a few inches apart now.

  “Aye?”

  “You can stop talking now.”

  It was a slower kiss than their first one. They were gentle with each other, testing, moving carefully. The kiss slowly blossomed and opened. Erin tasted traces of Scotch on his mouth and gently pressed against his lips with the tip of her tongue. He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, sliding onto the couch beside her.

  He broke the kiss for a moment. “You’re certain of this, darling?” he asked.

  “No. Are you?”

  He laughed quietly. “The best and worst thing we could possibly do,” he said. He kissed her neck just below her ear, making her shiver.

  “Can I trust you?” she whispered. Even as she said it, she had her hands on his chest, feeling the lean strength in his body.

  “I’d stop bullets for you, darling,” he said in an answering whisper. “Though I hope it’ll not come to that.” He caressed her, her skin tingling at his touch through her blouse.

  All their pent-up attraction, all the unacknowledged flirtations, the two months’ separation, rose in them. Each explored the other’s body with the thrill of discovery, but with a sort of familiarity, too. Erin knew there’d be complications and trouble to come, but here and now, it felt absolutely right. Carlyle’s hands and lips seemed to know exactly what to do, bringing her higher with every touch. She met him touch for touch, kiss for kiss. It was a dance of power and danger, like everything about them, but one that was exhilarating and left them breathless, spent and exhausted, entwined in an embrace that felt like nothing could pull apart.

  “This changes everything, doesn’t it,” Erin said, later.

  They were in her bedroom. She’d been lying quietly, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of sharing her bed with a man. Carlyle had an arm around her shoulders. It felt comfortable, safe. But she knew it wasn’t really.

  “I’ve not changed,” he said. “I’m the same lad as before. You’ve just seen me a bit closer.”

  “Everything else, then,” she said.

  “That’s as may be. You’re still a damned fine copper.”

  “And you’re still a gangster.”

  “A gangster who loves you.”

  She shivered, but not from the cold. “You think that’ll be enough?”

  He kissed her cheek and drew her closer. “I think if it weren’t true, nothing would be enough.”

  Erin turned to face him. “What, so now you’re sweet-talking me?”

  He smiled. “Is it working?”

  “I believe you,” she said. “Yeah, I guess it’s working. If it’s a trick, it’s a pretty good one.”

  “You said it yourself,” he said. “The cleverest trick is when there’s no trick at all.”

  “So you’re a magician, too?”

  “Oh, aye. It’s like that lad Sinatra sings. That old black magic has me in its spell.”

  Erin raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a Sinatra fan.”

  “Why not?” Carlyle replied. “The lad was connected. He always got on well with those in the life.”

  She shook her head. “I have to tell you, I don’t know how we’re going to work this out. I’m not sure this was a good idea.”

  Carlyle smiled gently. “I’ve no regrets, darling. And I’ve no intention of letting you go. Whatever happens, it’ll happen to the both of us. It’s that old black magic called love.”

  Here’s a sneak peek from Book 7: Death by Chocolate

  Coming Winter 2019

  Click here to get a reminder when it's out!

  Vic Neshenko took careful aim. Like the good rifleman he was, he knew not to rush his shot. He breathed in, held it a moment, and let the breath o
ut slowly. Then, in that instant of perfect stillness, he took the shot.

  The crumpled piece of paper ricocheted off the rim of the garbage can and bounced onto the floor of the Precinct 8 Major Crimes office.

  Vic groaned and sagged in his chair.

  “That’s game,” Erin O’Reilly said. “Five to four. Next case we close, you’re buying the first round.”

  Erin’s partner Rolf let out a long, slow sigh. He lay on the floor next to her desk, on a square of sample carpet. The German Shepherd had his snout between his paws. His eyes were half-closed and unfocused. It was a slow, sleepy Saturday afternoon.

  Lieutenant Webb, their commanding officer, twirled a cigarette between his fingers. They were in a public New York facility, so of course smoking wasn’t allowed, and the cig wasn’t lit. He clearly wished it was.

  “Will someone, for God’s sake, get murdered?” Vic asked the ceiling. “I’m bored out of my skull.”

  “I think New York’s seen enough people murdered in the name of God,” Webb said dryly. “We’ve had our fill of terrorists.”

  “Murder’s usually more personal,” Erin added.

  “I’d take it personal,” Vic said, “if anyone murdered me.”

  “How’re your fives coming along?” Webb asked Erin.

  “Just about done.”

  Webb was talking about the DD-5, an infamous piece of NYPD paperwork used to add detail to a complaint report. “If it’s not on a five, it didn’t happen,” was a common phrase in Erin’s old precinct down in Queens. Filling one out wasn’t her favorite use of an afternoon.

  “It’s okay to admit you’re just looking at porn,” Vic said.

  “Okay, you caught me,” she said, putting up her hands. “Sergeant Brown pointed me at this great website. It’s got these Russian girls on it. There’s one here who looks kind of like your mom.”

  Vic gave her a false smile and showed her one of his fingers.

  “Three days after Valentine’s Day,” Webb said, leaning back in his chair. “And love is still in the air.”