The Magic Carnival Box Set: Books 1-3

by Trudi Jaye

  Finally he was there, standing so close her breasts touched his chest. Her breath hitched as he placed one hand on each cheek, almost like he was afraid to touch her. Then he leaned his head in and gently tipped to one side. His lips on hers were soft, like the brush of a feather. Maddy almost sobbed she was so ready for him. She wound her hands around his neck, grabbing the lengths of hair and holding him to her lips.

  His mouth played gently with hers, and when his tongue joined in, she opened for him eagerly. She moved closer, wanting to feel connected, to have his warmth against hers. She didn’t know when she’d last felt like this, desperate for the feel of a man, urgent for his body to be part of hers. Maybe she’d never felt like this before.

  Her hands moved away from his neck to find his shirt and pull it from his jeans. His skin was hot beneath her hands, and she felt him jerk when the softness of her palms first met the hard muscle of his lean body. She moaned against his mouth and tried to pull him even closer. She needed to undo his buttons but couldn’t seem to get her hands to move in a way that made anything happen.

  “I’ll do mine… if you do yours,” he whispered against her lips. She flicked her eyes open to his. Dark heat smoldered there, and she burned to feel every part of him against her. Her hands went to her top button, shaking but determined. One by one she unbuttoned her shirt, then pulled it off her shoulders and let it drift onto the ground, her eyes never leaving his.

  He glanced down to the discarded clothing and then to her breasts, standing erect, shielded only by the lace of her bra. Heat flushed her face, but she didn’t look away. Just as slowly, he undid his buttons, and then they were both standing topless.

  His hand reached across and gently cupped her breast, the warmth making her shudder. His thumb flicked over her nipple, and she moaned, letting her eyelids drift closed. He stepped toward her again, his hands twining around her body, his heat warming her to a burn. When his lips closed over her nipple through the lace, her whole body quivered, the warmth exploding across her limbs. She felt like she could melt from the heat they were generating.

  And it would be all worth it.

  His mouth moved back up to hers, and the simmer became an inferno. She clung to his body, the hard muscle beneath her sensitive hands pulling another moan from deep within.

  When he drew back slightly, she whimpered. He placed his forehead to hers, holding her face with his hands. “Are you sure about this?”

  She nodded.

  “Say it,” he insisted. “Say you want me.” His lips trailed down her neck, his heat on the sensitive spot by her collarbone. His hands rubbed along her back and then down, pulling her closer.

  “I want you,” she whispered.

  He groaned and gently pushed her back against the wall, grasping her hands and holding them over her head. He kissed and teased her lips, nipping at her neck and then down to her breasts again, nibbling at her aching nipples beneath the lace. She swallowed hard against her suddenly dry throat, trying to control the flames burning through her.

  The next thing she knew, she was in the air. Garth had picked her up like she was as light as the feather boa she had discarded and strode over to the oversized couch that lined one wall. He placed her down among the pillows and then followed, hovering his body over hers, carefully holding up his own weight on his legs and arms.

  Through a haze of desire, she looked up at him from this new angle. His eyes were dark, blazing with the same heat that was churning through her body. His rugged face was serious, focused on her and nothing else.

  “You are so beautiful,” he said in a whisper.

  She reached one hand up to his hair, running her fingers through the thick strands. “So are you.”

  His eyes sparked for a moment, as if he would have argued, but then, distracted, they tracked down to her mouth again. His lips lowered to hers, and they were both lost.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Maddy looked through her notes again, trying futilely to concentrate. All she could see was Garth’s solemn face as she’d said good-bye the previous night. He’d kissed her gently on the mouth before letting her move out of his arms and into her car.

  She couldn’t believe she’d actually had sex with him on the couch in the back room. It wasn’t something she would normally even consider. It had been as if something else spurred them on, something in the air that made it impossible to say anything but yes to him. And, oh my, it had been fantastic. She shivered with the remembered heat of it all.

  He’d said he’d call her, and now she was watching the phone like a hawk, wondering when that might be.

  She shook her head, trying to calm the furious pace of her brain. Thoughts ricocheted around in her head. What was happening? She hardly knew him, and here she was daydreaming about him like a teenager. She thought of Simon and his female friend and smiled. Well, maybe not exactly like a teenager.

  Maddy flicked through the pages of Milton’s notes. It was silly, but if she couldn’t be around Garth, she would work on his father’s file to feel a connection. Forcing herself to stop and read the results of her latest observations, Maddy glanced through the notes. But the numbers and tables blurred in front of her, and Garth’s face appeared yet again.

  What did it all mean, this new emotion, this new man in her life? She put her face in her hands and leaned on her desk. The biggest problem was she didn’t know. She actually had no freaking idea what she thought about the whole thing—other than she wanted to see Garth again, and she definitely wanted to have sex with him again.

  She’d felt a connection to him right from the beginning, and to the Carnival that was so much a part of him. It was strange, but that environment, with its bright lights and big personalities, seemed more real to her than the halls of the hospitals and nursing homes she’d been working in for the last few years. The itch to leave her office and escape to the Compound was growing by the second, and she stood up, pacing around the small room.

  This was insane. There was a reason she was here, working with these people. She was helping them, trying to make sure the next generation wouldn’t have to go through the same terror and loneliness these people had.

  She’d seen Garth’s expression the day before when she’d interrupted him with his father and hadn’t missed the tenseness of the situation. His father was really going downhill, much faster than she’d expected. The numbers were right in front of her. He no longer remembered much about anything when she talked to him, certainly nothing of the previous week. He sometimes mentioned the Carnival and his wife. Even occasionally his son.

  But that was it. The physical deterioration that usually went with the disease still wasn’t present, and although he was being more moody, it was an expression of frustration rather than direct symptoms.

  Going through the pages more slowly, Maddy scrutinized the numbers, ticking off what she knew about Milton and what she knew he should have been experiencing.

  It just didn’t add up. She frowned in confusion, a kernel of doubt winding its way through her brain. The connections flickered, and things she hadn’t been putting together suddenly converged at the same point.

  Garth’s father didn’t have Alzheimer’s.

  It was something that exhibited the same symptoms, sure. But there were several big gaps in his progression, gaps she’d never seen before in any other patient. In the beginning, she’d been excited, thinking it meant he was an unusual case. But her observations and her data were telling her otherwise, and her gut agreed. He had been falsely diagnosed and was being treated for the wrong condition.

  So if he didn’t have Alzheimer’s, what did he have? Was it some other equally horrible and degenerative disease? Or something that could be halted? Or perhaps—her stomach fluttered momentarily—something that could be reversed?

  She forgot to breathe for a moment. Could Milton be cured?

  Her burst of optimism shone bright for a moment and then flickered out just as quickly. She didn’t know what he had, and even
if she did have an idea, she had no clue how to fix him. She was a research scientist, with a very specific area of expertise.

  And Milton was deteriorating fast. Too fast for any miracle cure.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hugo watched Rilla from a distance, smiling to himself. They were on his turf now, and he would make sure they paid for what they’d done. They were still trying to make money to save their little circus, Jack and Rilla at the roulette tables, Frankie at blackjack. He didn’t know what kind of system they were running, but it seemed to be working. Frankie at least had a pile of coins by his side. His flushed face spoke of his excitement, and even Hugo could see if they didn’t get him out of there soon, his stability was going to crumble.

  Using some casino security officers, he’d arranged for Jack and Frankie to be distracted for a day or so on a wild goose chase. He’d planned to draw in Rilla, and it had worked so easily he’d felt a lift in his spirits upon her arrival. Now that Rilla was here, all three of them were together, and it would be a pleasure to watch as they suffered. They had stolen his son from him, his only joy in life, and now they would pay the price.

  It was about making things right. The world needed to be in balance for it to function properly.

  The casino noises around him calmed his senses. This was home, where he’d felt the most comfortable in his entire life. Memories of Simon as a baby and a young child were all over the casinos. He’d been performing here his son’s whole life, and he’d always been a hands-on dad.

  As he watched, Rilla whispered into Jack’s ear, and the pair of lovebirds glanced over at Frankie. Jack nodded and then extricated himself from the game, wandering over to Frankie and putting one hand on his shoulder.

  Frankie jumped and then looked up at Jack, a wild look in his eyes.

  Hugo smiled. It was going to be so easy. They were unprepared and shaken after their “close call” with his security bullies. Now Frankie was losing his control.

  Hugo twitched his fingers together absently, waiting for the familiar tingle of magic. There was no answering buzz, and his whole body tensed. It was like they’d stolen a limb from him by making him use all his power. A dark-red haze began to drip across his vision. These three had stopped him last time, and he would make sure they couldn’t stop him ever again. He gritted his teeth, trying to pull back the anger storming through his body. Once he took them out, the Carnival would falter and die. He would be able to use Lucietta’s knowledge of the Compound to find them at their source, and then he would regain Simon. His son would return to his proper place by his father’s side.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of white hair and was momentarily distracted by Blago, Luci’s brother. He frowned. Lucietta maybe knew enough about the Compound to get him there despite being banned, but Blago, he knew it all, and he was no longer blocked like Hugo and Lucietta.

  The red haze started to peel back, calming his fluctuating emotions and helping him think clearly. He watched Blago as the old man smiled and chatted his way through a game of blackjack. No one else seemed to be listening, and the old bastard had them fooled into thinking he was no one to worry about. Even when he won a large pot of cash, there was no anger, simply a rolling of eyes and a bit of surprise. When Blago got up and nodded to everyone at the table, they all waved him away with no suspicion that he’d been anything other than a chatty old man on holiday.

  Which was how he’d managed to fleece them of so much of their money.

  Yes, Blago could be very useful. Even more useful than Luci.

  It was a pleasant thought. He was getting sick of her whining and her constant need for attention. Being in prison had changed her, or perhaps she was simply aware he’d lost interest. Instead of moving on, she was attempting to hold on to him with her ridiculously long, claw-like fingernails.

  Hugo stopped a moment to watch Rilla where she stood waiting for Jack and Frankie. She was wearing an understated black dress, her hair up in an elegant roll, and her long legs encased in black stockings. The first time he’d seen her had been at her father’s funeral, and she’d looked him right in the eye, even then. She was a striking woman. If her death wasn’t part of his plan for the destruction of the Carnival, he might have been tempted to take her to his bed.

  Perhaps the two weren’t mutually exclusive. He felt a stir of interest. Could he have her and then kill her? Would that give him the power he needed to take them down?

  He sighed. He didn’t think so. There had to be a love bond, not a destructive force like hate or even lust, for the curse magic to work. He needed his son, his only boy, for his plan to succeed.

  The fear, sadness, and terror all mingled in his thoughts for a moment, and he grabbed at his head, trying to stop the sudden excruciating pain. He needed his son back, and he would use these idiots to get him, but for now, he needed his room.

  Luci would have to watch them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Have you heard anything?” Tami’s voice was tense.

  Garth shook his head. “Nothing for almost twenty-four hours.” Rilla had been punctual in getting in touch with them for the five days since she’d arrived in Las Vegas. Something was definitely wrong.

  They were gathered together in the war room. The big, high-ceilinged room had been built high into the hill above the Compound. Big windows looked down over the rest of the structures, allowing them to have an overall view of the activity below as Carnival folk went about their daily lives. Normally at this time of year, it would have been slow, with most people happy to relax. But now, with a threat hanging over their heads and a performance to prepare for, there were people swarming everywhere, like ants busy trying to fill the coffers for the winter.

  “What the hell could’ve happened?” Viktor was striding back and forth across the side of the room, hands clenched. “How can we have lost all four of them?”

  “What are we going to do? Who do we send now?” Alfie held a small white rat on his arm, patting it gently as he sat on one of the nine large armchairs. His eyes were fixed on the scene out the window.

  Garth tapped his finger on the arm of his chair, trying not to give in to the urge to put both his hands to his head. The emotion in the room was cloying, almost overpowering. It reverberated around the space, the fear and anger building and multiplying as it bounced off in repeated waves. They were all strong people connected to the Carnival through years of loyal service. They were united in their fear for Rilla and Jack, as well as Frankie and Blago—four integral members of the team. They’d just lost Abacus. They couldn’t lose anyone else.

  “We just need to hang on, that’s all. We keep the Winter Spectacular on track. That’s our job.” Missy’s voice was hard, like she was angry, but Garth knew that was the way she expressed her concern.

  “What if something’s happened to them?” Tami’s voice rose on edge.

  “Despite what Rilla believes, I do have some contacts in Vegas. I’ll talk to a couple of them. See what they can tell me.” Garth spoke confidently, trying to hold in his reaction to the emotional currents surrounding him. It felt like it was a raging river, and he was a small branch being tossed and turned through the current. And he knew downriver there could well be a waterfall he wouldn’t survive.

  “What kind of contacts?” Missy asked, her voice scornful.

  “The kind that will be helpful,” he said calmly. She was just frightened. They all were.

  “Who is it, then?”

  Garth shook his head. There were some things he needed to keep to himself. “Just leave it with me, and I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “In the meantime? We’re just supposed to wait around for you?” Tami said.

  “No, we do as Missy said. We make this the best damn show we’ve ever put on.”

  “Without Frankie and Jack, Joey’s doing the online guff. I don’t know how he’s getting on,” said Viktor, a warning in his voice.

  Garth nodded. “Can you check on him? Perhaps ask He
nry to help him out? And Simon might be able to do some of it. He’s stuck in bed and always going on at me about needing something to do.” Garth saw Viktor’s sharp look. “He’s a good kid, which you’d know if you ever came to say hi to him.”

  “One of us needs to stay impartial.”

  “In case something bad happens?” Garth knew his voice was sharp, but he couldn’t pull it back.

  “For when something happens. Not if.”

  “You don’t know—”

  “I think there’s one thing we all know, Garth,” interrupted Viktor. “Hugo is going to come after his son. And while Simon’s here, while we’re protecting him, we’re in the firing line.” Viktor came to a halt in front of Garth, who stood, using his height to his advantage.

  “So we’re supposed to just abandon him? A twelve-year-old boy with no one else, who’s been brutally abused by his own father? Is that who we are now?”

  Viktor blew out a frustrated breath. “That’s not what I’m saying. But by helping one small boy, you’re putting the lives of over a hundred people at risk. Those numbers don’t add up.”

  “We give up on Simon and Hugo wins,” said Garth, his temper cracking around the edges. He stared down the barrel of Viktor’s disapproving expression. “Without even trying. Carnival folk are fighters. Real, proper street fighters who don’t give in to some asshole who thinks he’s better than us.” He looked around the room at the remaining members of the Nine. “We’re stronger than this. We do not give up, and we do not give in.”

  His capacity at full, Garth stalked out of the room before he truly cracked in front of them all. He stormed through the sunlight and trees without paying attention to his surroundings, just trying to calm the over-sensitized emotions fighting for attention in his head.