THE RISK OF LOVE AND MAGIC (22 page)

“We can send security to take him down, but chances are he’s just hired help and won’t know anything. We can leave him up there and not give him anything to report—my recommendation. Once the minions discover we’ve entered this address on the website, we should get some action.”

Magnus knew the action he wanted, but now he felt like he was taking advantage of a prisoner. He’d not exactly left Nadine many choices.

“So we’re stuck in here until someone looks at the website again?” she asked with distinct dismay.

“I think there are enough bushes and trees and umbrellas around the pool to conceal us, so we can go outside in that area. We have good security, but the balconies will be off limits, and if we drive out, we may have a tail.”

She returned to the sofa she’d curled up on, and Magnus could see her shoulders slump. She wouldn’t nag or complain, but he didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she wasn’t happy.

He tried not to compare her moods to Diane’s. Nadine had a right to be bummed about the situation.

“We still have credit cards on our fake IDs,” he reminded her.

She squinted at him questioningly.

“Limo. We sneak out the pool area so he can’t see us. If we stick to the walls and shrubbery and make our way to the neighbors, we can make it look as if we’re emerging from a house down the road. Our spy can’t watch everyone.”

Her eyes widened again. “We can pretend we’re the rich people down the road and order a limo? Majorly cool. Where would we go? Can we visit Vera? Or what about the Academy?” Her expression grew more excited. “Could we check out the Academy?”

“I thought you’d want to go to Santa Monica or something.” He ought to just shoot himself in the head for thinking he’d guessed what she wanted. “We can’t let ourselves be seen near the school until we go through all the crap of applying and get permission to go in there.”

“But
we
can’t go in,” she said in dismay. “Jo-jo would recognize us.”

“No, we can’t go in. Conan will send his operatives with our cooked-up credentials. Your dancing master can really be one, if you like.”

She ran her hands through her hair, spiking it. “Crap. I want this done and I want it done
now.
I hate doing nothing.”

Magnus sympathized, but he refrained from saying
just give me Jo-jo’s address
. She’d made her point clear there. Conan was following up on the Palm Springs reports but hadn’t verified that the general was in residence. Distracting Nadine seemed reasonable, even if it required limos.

“There’s a nightclub in Santa Monica with a good local band. If you’re confident that your connection with Vera is secure, you could see if she’s available to meet us there. But she’s behind a week on her studies. Don’t be surprised if she can’t,” he warned. “By the time we get there, it will be pushing ten, even if we hurry.”

“We can’t get a limo that fast,” she protested.

Magnus raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know Oz very well, then.”

Finally, hope appeared in her eyes. “You think we can really go to a nightclub and be safe?”

“Would I suggest it if I thought otherwise?” Well, yeah, probably, because he was a desperate man, but he didn’t think his expectations were unreasonable.

“Then, yes, please! See if we can find a limo. Anything is better than sitting here, waiting.” She leapt up, kissed his cheek, and raced for the stairs before he could grab her.

Damn, Conan was going to kill him.

***

Nadine hurriedly pulled on the one dress she’d bought in her shopping spree. It didn’t have spaghetti straps or flounces, but it had a halter neckline and a full skirt in a simple blue. She glared at her curly hair, grabbed some gel, made it stand up. Then she took the scissors and began whacking off curls in a disorderly pattern so it didn’t lie flat or curl but looked as if it had been blown askew by an airplane propeller. That worked.

She hadn’t bought make-up but whoever lived here had a closet full of it. She just borrowed an unopened tube of lipstick. And some shoes. She couldn’t dance in sandals.

She knew it would be impossible to summon a limo in the half hour she’d taken to get ready, but she danced down the stairs anyway, eager to be out of the house.

That startled her. She hadn’t minded sitting in front of a computer day and night when she was a teenager. She’d loved that she was safe in her basement from the pain of unguarded thoughts, safe from any kids who laughed at her. She’d loved the freedom of cruising the internet.

She’d only learned to be wary of computers after she’d started doubting the wisdom of what the general was doing with his psychic experiments.

Gazing on the magnificence that was Magnus waiting in the atrium, Nadine thought maybe he was a large part of her need to get away from the monitor.

He’d changed into a crisp white shirt that he’d rolled up to the elbow. He wore it with the collar open, exposing his bronzed chest, and the tails tucked into form-fitting jeans. She salivated and almost told him to forget the limo.

“We have maybe ten minutes to perform our disappearing act. The limo will meet us at the end of the street.”

“Did my jaw just drop?” she asked. “You’re a magician, right?”

He caught her arm and steered her through the darkened family room. “Oz is the magician. I’m the mechanic, remember? He called a friend in the neighborhood with a chauffeur. I’m installing the same night vision detector software in the guy’s house in exchange for the use of car and driver. It all works out.”

“And I suppose you’ve invented an invisibility cloak while you were waiting?” She watched him set a timer that hadn’t been there earlier and didn’t even bother to ask.

“Still working on invisibility,” he said without a hint of humor. “Until then, we stick to shadows.” He donned a black blazer over his white shirt, turned his gaze to her blue dress—and stopped talking.

Nadine poked his chin up. “I am not the only female in the world with mammary glands. Do I need to wear something darker?”

“No, ma’am, I like what I see just fine. But if you fall out of that dress while we’re dancing, I won’t be responsible for the consequences.” Over her shoulders, he dropped a dark raincoat.

Nadine shrugged it on rather than try to hang on to it. “Okay, lead on, Sherlock.”

They slipped out the sliding doors. Magnus performed some magic feat with the security alarm, then guided her along the dark cabana to the towering hibiscus hedge on the far side of the pool.

He located a narrow wooden gate in the wall behind the hedge and opened it. She bit back a gasp of surprise when the house suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, and a blast of music blared from outdoor speakers.

“How did you . . . ?”

He covered her mouth with a finger and peered around the gateway. He dragged her through the opening to a narrow alley running along behind the property. A security light overhead that should have come on, didn’t.

“I pulled the breaker on the light,” he whispered.

He halted, gauged the distance to the next security light, and dragged her along the wall. “Cross to the other side. There’s no light there.”

They dashed across the dark alley to open brush.

In minutes, they’d found the street intersecting with the alley and sauntered down it, hand in hand, just another couple out for an evening stroll.

They waved at a father and his kids walking up from the beach, just as if they belonged there.

Heart racing, Nadine clung to Mad Max’s big hand as they reached the main road and saw a low-slung sports car waiting for them. “That’s not a limo,” she murmured worriedly.

“No, that’s Oz’s love of classic cars. Late model XK-E coupe with twelve cylinders would be my guess. He doesn’t know people with mere Bentleys or Cadillacs. My back aches just looking at it.” He leaned in the open passenger window. “Looking for passengers?” he asked.

“I’m yours for the evening,” the driver said.

“Santa Monica, then, and keep an eye out for anyone tailing us.” Magnus held the door so Nadine could climb into the leather interior.

“Oh, wow,” she whispered. The seat practically enveloped her like a glove. The car’s engine woke with a quiet roar. Magnus squeezed in beside her. “I feel like Cinderella.”

“We don’t have to worry about midnight and pumpkins, and glass shoes had to hurt.”

“Not to mention you’re a prince with no castle, got it. I IM’d Vera. She can’t make it, but she says she’s good. Do you think Dorrie’s cousin is still hanging around her?”

“Jack has a job, but I’m betting his spare time is spent in Vera’s vicinity, yes. That okay?”

“He’s a bit older than she is,” Nadine said worriedly.

“I’m older than you. Do I need to back off?”

“Probably, for your sake, if not mine. If what we’re doing blows up, I’m leaving the country by any means possible. I’m not risking ending up in a loony bin again. I’d rather be dead.”

Only then did Nadine remember that Magnus Magnificus’s fiancée had killed herself. She bit her tongue—hard.

“New rule,” Magnus declared. “You do not mention loony bins and death in my presence if you do not want to detonate Mad Max. Got it?”

“You’re practically vibrating,” Nadine replied in awe. She really hadn’t meant to hurt him. The sports car’s back seat was scarcely big enough for his wide shoulders. She could actually
feel
his intensity. “I felt your vibrations when you arrived at Woodstar. I’m amazed you’re not causing earthquakes.”

“That’s not the
point
,” he said grimly, reaching over to crush her hand against the leather seat. “The point is that I have limits and you’re pushing them.”

Nadine processed the data—he was squeezing her hand as if he couldn’t let go. He’d lost someone he’d loved to violence. He feared she would do the same. Got it.

The thought of Mad Max caring that much about her . . . She swallowed hard.

“I will not kill myself,” she told him, wrapping her fingers around his. “I will go after Jo-jo with a machete, which may be the same thing, but I will not leave you in such a wimpy manner as slitting my wrists, got that?”

His grip relaxed somewhat. “Thank you. I’ll keep machetes out of sight.”

Nadine giggled. It had been a long time since she’d felt quite this giddy, and Mad Max had been the one to set her off. He made her feel as if she
mattered
. She bubbled inside, and needed some outlet to express the sensation. She couldn’t think of an appropriate one.

Instead, she snuggled against him—not difficult to do in this tiny backseat. He obligingly put his arm around her and let her closer.

“I’ve been taking care of myself for quite a few years,” she reminded him. “I’m not your responsibility.”

“That’s about the stupidest thing you’ve ever said,” he said, evidently still not over his snit. “You’ve lived a sheltered life that blew up on you. I’m trained in military combat. You saved my life. I owe you one. You’re my responsibility.”

Had he been the general, she’d have been cringing in fear. Instead, she laughed, and leaning into him, blew on his neck. “Run that last part again . . . I
saved
your life. I am not a helpless infant. I’m just wired weird. And for what it’s worth, Jo-jo wouldn’t have killed a valuable scientist like you. He would have just made you miserable.”

“One of us would have died,” he retorted. “Maybe you should have left me down in that hole.”

She pinched his biceps. “No killing. You’re not in the military any longer. Join the police force if you want to shoot baddies. Let’s practice dancing for Conan’s wedding, and forget about the rest for a few hours, okay?”

“I’ll try,” he agreed reluctantly.

***

With a driver not more than a few feet from their whispered conversation, Magnus figured arguing further wasn’t worth the effort. Besides, Nadine’s hot body pressed against his side had sent his brain south. Dancing would work off a little of that energy while he tried to process the level of her desperation—and his.

But he was pretty damned certain he couldn’t survive weeks of inactivity waiting for her bait-and-switch routine to work.

At Magnus’s direction, the driver dropped them off in an alley behind the club. It was just a Monday, so most of the pier attractions had closed early, but the night club was revving up. The DJ’s blaring speakers shook the walls as he steered Nadine through the shadowy alley and into a side entrance.

He kept her hand firmly in his grip as they entered the room of swirling dancers, flashing spotlights, and pounding salsa. She clung to him and stared at the crowd. Her eyes were as big as emerald lakes, and her grip on his hand was fierce.

“How’s your head?” he asked, worried that this might be too much stimulation.

“It’s better than I imagined,” she shouted in what sounded like relief.

“Your head or the music?” he asked, finally relaxing a little.

If nothing else, Nadine was never boring. In her borrowed heels, she came past his shoulder. He was tempted to press a kiss to her cheek but resisted a sign of affection.

“Both,” she concluded. “How can anyone think like this? It’s your kind of place—everyone is dancing instead of thinking.”

“Works for me.” Relieved that she wouldn’t be having any seizures, Magnus grabbed a table as a couple departed. “If you’re okay, hold the table while I get drinks.”

He didn’t bother asking what she wanted. He already knew she didn’t have a clue. At the bar, he ordered a margarita, easy on the tequila, and a beer for himself. Dancing made him thirsty, and even with a chauffeur, he preferred to limit his alcohol consumption.

Setting the drink in front of Nadine, he let her taste it, and make an approving nod, before indicating the dance floor. “This is an easy one. Do you want to try?”

She jumped up eagerly, taking his hand as if they really were a couple, and she hadn’t practically accused him of holding her prisoner. Maybe he should think of her as a prisoner, but that was anathema to his ethics, especially when she came into his arms like she belonged there. She was all curvy and soft and breathless. He wanted to take her home right then. Which was why he needed to work off the energy.