by Hazel Hunter
Natalia crouched next to the edge and dipped her fingers in. “Ooh, that’s so warm.”
As she stood and turned to him smiling, he lightly grasped the bottom hem of her sweater. “Allow me,” he said.
As he lifted it, she raised her arms. He slipped it off over her head, and she shook out her silky hair.
“I feel better already,” he said, with a grin. He tossed the garment to the floor and unfastened her jeans.
“I can tell,” she said, eying the bulge in his pants.
He lowered her jeans and panties, as she undid her bra. She stepped out of her shoes and into the water, and as she waded in, he was riveted. Her naked beauty was breathtaking. Though her profession meant that she carried not a single ounce of fat, her feminine curves didn’t depend on it. In the old days the midwives would have said that her hips were made for bearing children. Their gentle curve matched the soft roundness of her breasts.
She smiled at him over her shoulder. “I’m not going to be alone, am I?”
He undressed so quickly he almost forgot the petals. He took a handful and spread them on the water as he stepped down.
She drifted sideways toward the bench, reclining until the water was up to her neck. “Gods that feels good,” she said, as her eyes closed.
He settled into place next to her, doing his best to ignore his erection. It had been a hell of a day, and she was exhausted.
“Why are you so far away?” she asked dreamily.
He smiled. “I am not, and you need to relax.”
Her delicate eyebrows arched, though her eyes remained closed. “Yes. Relax. But there are more…fun ways to do that.”
Matteo considered himself a patient man. He’d waited for her for nine years. He could enjoy watching her as she shed the worries of the day. But refuse an invitation? He wasn’t made of stone.
Moving slowly so as not to slosh water, he fetched a condom from his pants and smoothed it on. As he moved next to her, he also lifted her and slid underneath, making himself her chair. Slowly she settled on his thighs, and he cradled her to his chest. Without prompting, she leaned her head back against him, and straddled his legs.
For several moments he simply ran his hands over her satin-smooth skin. Then he lightly massaged her neck and shoulders and was rewarded by feeling them loosen.
“That feels so good,” she murmured.
“I was just about to say the same thing,” he said lowly.
Slowly, he slid his hands down her arms, over her flat belly, and then up her midriff to cup her breasts. He marveled at the creamy feel, and gently kneaded them. But as he bent his head down and kissed the side of her neck, he grasped her nipples.
“Oh,” she gasped, as her back arched.
He smiled against her skin. She was incredibly sensitive, something that had delighted him from the first. He took his time, lightly rolling the pebbled peaks, and was rewarded by the press of her bottom against his swollen shaft. Before she could float away, he slid one hand down to the soft curls of her mound. Then he dipped his finger over the edge to her delicate folds.
He felt her shudder in his embrace, as his erection throbbed. With tiny stroking movements, he played with her little pearl of flesh. He circled it one way, and then the other, feeling her hips follow his movements. But when he lightly pinched her nipple and rubbed her clit at the same time, she flexed in his grasp and quietly moaned.
Suddenly her hand was behind her on his shaft, guiding him to her entrance. As she moved back over him, he nudged inside her slick warmth. They moaned together as he imbedded himself in one deep thrust. He plunged into the heated core of her and squeezed his eyes shut. She was paradise itself, enveloping him completely. He pressed into that sweetness as deeply as he could, relishing her body’s tug on him. He thrust again, imbedding himself to the hilt, driving into her as his straining shaft sought its home.
Her hands flew to the back of his neck. “More,” she gasped.
He thrust again, delighting in how her body stretched for him. Over and over he glided upward as her tight channel stroked him, urging him on. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and he grunted as he pounded into her. But as he slid his fingers over her mound and caressed that most sensitive of spots, she cried out.
Wild clenching rippled along his erection, and he immediately exploded inside her. He groaned in blissful agony as his seed erupted. He spilled himself in a glorious wave of release, followed by another. Her body milked him in a seemingly endless climax. But as the wave of ecstasy crested and finally ended, she collapsed back against his chest. Still inside her, he relished the last pulsing claims of her body on his. Finally her body went limp, and he wrapped his arms around her. It was time to get her to bed. But as he scooped her up and rose from the water, he was already thinking of their next time together. His seed would fill her, truly fill her, and their union would be complete.
23
IT FIGURATIVELY AND literally stank. Heller crouched down next to the burnt body. A blackened, withered, stick of an arm was bent at the elbow and pointing at the sky. But rather than look where it pointed, Heller glanced behind him. The freeway was barely a hundred yards away. Whoever had left the body here had meant for it to be found.
The click of a camera and bright flash brought his attention back to the corpse.
“Burned somewhere else?” he said as he stood.
“Right,” McVoy said. The sergeant made a few notes on a small pad. “No sign of accelerant.”
“Cause of death will have to wait for an autopsy?”
McVoy nodded.
The victim was male, somewhere around six feet tall. There didn’t appear to be any clothes, nor had there been ID.
A few plastic yellow pyramids were arranged around the body. Numbered, they signaled the location of possible evidence, maybe something the perpetrator had dropped, or a spattering of blood. But judging from the fact that there were only three, Heller wasn’t expecting much.
“What’s this?” the photographer said. He was looking at the back of his camera, but he glanced up at Heller. “Sir?”
“What have you got?” Heller said, walking around the feet of the body.
The officer showed him the photo on the camera’s screen. He clicked a few buttons and enlarged the image.
“They’ll see it better in the autopsy,” the photographer said. “But look, on the inside of the left calf. That’s a tattoo.”
Heller took the camera and peered at the screen. Though the design was upside down, it looked like a crown, and under it was lettering that he couldn’t quite make out.
“I think the legs might have been together,” the photographer said. “Maybe protected this area from some of the fire.”
Heller rotated the camera to see the letters right side up. No wonder he couldn’t read them. It wasn’t English.
“Russian?” he said, gripping the camera. “Russian?”
An eerie déjà vu took over. Nine years ago, when he’d put the older Slokavich brother in jail, there’d also been a burned body. Beside the Russians, only one person had been involved. That person had appeared from nowhere just two days ago.
“Sergeant,” Heller said. “Find someone to take your car. You’re with me.”
24
DESPITE THE SCREECH of the milk steamer, Matteo heard the chime of the intercom. He cranked the knob on the spigot of the espresso machine and turned off the steam. Wearing only silk pajama bottoms, he stepped over to the intercom in bare feet. He thumbed the talk button.
“Naldo?” he said.
“Mr. Monti,” Naldo said. “I’m in the elevator.”
Matteo cocked his head at the speaker. It wasn’t just strange that Naldo used his last name, but something in his voice put Matteo on alert. As he left the kitchen Natalia appeared at the bedroom door. She was wearing one of the Turkish bath robes and toweling her wet hair.
Still holding the milk carafe, he motioned for her to stop, but it was too late. The elevator door opened, a
nd Naldo wasn’t alone.
“Matteo Monti,” Detective Heller said. He showed him a piece of paper together with his badge. “You are under arrest.”
Matteo cocked his head at the detective. He was flanked by another man in a rumpled suit. Behind them was a sheepish looking Naldo.
“Really, Detective,” Matteo said. He hefted the milk carafe. “Before I have even had my latte.”
“I’m sorry, Boss,” Naldo said.
Each of the men gave Natalia a quick glance, but Heller did a double take. “Ms. Trucco,” he said, giving both her and Matteo sidelong glances. “How interesting to see you.”
The gears were turning behind the detective’s eyes.
“May I inquire about the nature of the charges?” Matteo asked.
“Possession of illegal firearms,” Heller said.
Matteo scowled at him. He didn’t even own a gun. But when Naldo cleared his throat, shuffled in place, and stared at the floor, Matteo understood.
“Ah,” he said.
It was a petty charge, a technicality that Heller was using…for what?
Although the detective and the other policeman hadn’t drawn their weapons or produced handcuffs, there was a tension in the air so thick that Matteo could have sliced off a piece.
“What is the real reason you are here?” Matteo asked Heller.
“We found a burned body in the desert this morning,” Heller said, squaring off to face him. “I have some questions for you.”
The words rang in the air.
“What?” Natalia said, her face blanching. “A burned body?”
Matteo sensed a strange cycle of time begin to turn, shifting the world around them.
“Naldo,” he said. “You will escort Ms. Trucco to her room. Until you hear from me, you will be with her at all times.”
“Yes, Boss!”
“But they can’t just–” Natalia started.
“They can, amore mio,” Matteo said, crossing to her. He smiled down at her troubled face. “Naldo will take care of you for now, and I will see you later.” He fixed Heller with a glare. “This will not take long.”
• • • • •
As Natalie watched, the sergeant began reciting Matteo’s rights. They’d let him get dressed, but kept an eye on him the entire time. Now they marched into the elevator. As they turned and the elevator doors began to close, Matteo gave her a little smile. Then he was gone.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Illegal weapons?”
“It’s my fault,” Naldo moaned. “It’s all my fault.”
“What?” she said, turning to him. “How?”
He explained the alchemy, the bombs, the ancient weapons—all the stuff he’d collected for centuries. It was in one of the hotel’s storage units, and the hotel belonged to Matteo.
“But can’t you just tell them it’s yours?” she asked. Despite Matteo’s smile, dread was starting to fill her chest.
“It doesn’t matter,” Naldo said. “Like the boss said, that’s just the excuse they’re using. This is really about some burned body in the desert.”
Natalie’s stomach flip-flopped. The echoes of the past were so loud she could hardly think. But one thing she knew was that Matteo was no murderer. A thought occurred to her.
“Wait,” she said, grabbing Naldo’s thick arm. “Matteo was with me all night. He can’t be responsible for that body.” She glanced down at her bath robe. “Let me get changed. We’ll go to the police station. I can–”
“Isn’t the show today?” Naldo asked.
Natalie blinked and took a step back. The show? Yes, of course it was. Today was November 1st. How could she have forgotten?
“Look,” Naldo said. “It wouldn’t matter what you say. The charge is about the weapons. My orders are to stick with you.” He glanced at the closed elevator doors. “The boss can handle it.”
“But you don’t know that,” Natalie insisted.
But even as she said it she’d already started to think of Conleth. She couldn’t just not show up. Nor was there any chance of postponing the show—not at Hoover Dam.
“The boss can handle it,” Naldo said again. “I know that because…” He shrugged. “He always does.”
She was caught, but what Naldo said was true. Matteo had been a warlock for centuries. She knew that Naldo was right. She also knew that Conleth was dying. The show would only take thirty minutes.
“All right,” she finally said, though her stomach wouldn’t stop churning. “I’ll do the show, but right after we’ll go to the station.”
25
MATTEO TOOK A seat in the cramped interrogation room. Heller tossed a thick folder on the table between them but chose to stand.
“I didn’t take you for a fool,” Heller said.
“And for good reason,” Matteo replied.
“You come back here after nine years, and suddenly there’s a burned body?” Heller said. He snorted. “Give me a break.”
“Quite the coincidence,” Matteo said calmly.
Color rose to Heller’s face. “Why are you connected to so many burned bodies? You’re the only thing they have in common.”
Of course Matteo knew that wasn’t true.
Nine years ago there had been a burned body—a Magus Corps officer who’d been his friend and partner. They had been sent to investigate Joseph and Caroline Trucco, Natalia’s parents. They were rogues, refusing to join a coven, preferring instead to live on the road with Conleth.
But before Matteo could question the parents, he met Natalia. In his long life he’d never given credence to the notion of love at first sight—until he’d seen her face. It was three whirlwind days that changed his life, and awakened her to immortality through their union. For once he had looked forward to the long stretch of his never-ending life with joy. Then everything had changed.
He would never forget the revolting smell of the remains, what little there was. The heat of the inferno that killed his fellow officer had been so high that his insignia had fused. The parents had perished as well, shot execution-style. Their deaths were inexplicable, and not the Magus Corps way. His partner had used a gun only a handful of times in the long years they’d served together. But the ballistics from his gun matched the bullets.
Then Natalia had disappeared. From the start she’d insisted her parents would never be capable of such a thing. He had even begun to believe her.
Which brought Matteo back around to Heller. Nine years ago, a burned body and two homicides had brought a hailstorm of press and police attention that the Corps wanted squelched. Using their massive resources, he’d offered quid pro quo to an up and coming police officer. If Heller would call the Trucco case closed as a triple murder, he would help Heller with…whatever Heller wanted help with. It had turned out to be Slokavich Sr. Though prostitution was legal in many parts of Nevada, it was most definitely not in Las Vegas.
“Why am I really here?” Matteo asked.
“Yuri Slokavich is dead.”
Matteo looked Heller in the eye. “Good riddance.”
“You were seen outside his dance club.”
“Because I was there.”
“Do you want to be arrested for murder?” Heller demanded. “Because that’s where this is headed.”
“What is my motive?”
“He’s a competitor. His clubs–”
“Nonsense,” Matteo said. “His clubs are not in the same league. Not even in the same universe.” He shook his head and crossed his arms. “You have it backwards. If anyone had a grudge, it was Slokavich against me.”
So far Heller hadn’t mentioned Natalia. If he knew that she had been abducted by Slokavich, he was keeping it to himself. Nor would Matteo bring it up, not even if it proved to be an alibi. He wanted her to have nothing to do with this.
“So you took him out preemptively,” Heller said, though his voice was less sure.
“You are fishing,” Matteo said.
“And you’re getting slo
ppy,” Heller retorted. “The body wasn’t burned all the way. And just a stone’s throw from the highway? It’s like you wanted to be caught, so I’m doing you a favor.”
If they’d been able to identify Slokavich Jr., then of course the body hadn’t been completely burned. But nine years ago, there’d been virtually nothing left of his partner. Wiccan fire didn’t need a furnace to incinerate bodies. The medical examiner had never been able to identify him.
Matteo frowned. Something Heller said jarred something loose. He’d discovered the corpse of his friend backstage. It’d made sense at the time. But now…
“Why did you kill Yuri Slokavich?” Heller demanded. “Why come back after all these years just to kill him?”
Matteo ignored him, seeing the scene backstage in his mind. If the Truccos had wanted to escape, why had they agreed to a meeting? Why kill his partner backstage when they would eventually have to take the remains somewhere, like the desert? Why hadn’t they reduced the entire theater to ashes?
A strange tightness gripped Matteo’s chest. The Truccos had been so far under the radar that the Corps hadn’t known their powers. But the burned corpse had made that clear. Hadn’t it?
Matteo stared at the detective without seeing him.
What had Natalia said at dinner about her own power? She assumed it came from her parents. One was a shifter, the other transmuted metal. They weren’t fire Wiccans. There had never been any fire Wiccans.
Matteo stood, startling Heller.
“I must go,” Matteo said.
Heller guffawed. “Go? The only place you’re going is a cell.”
But there was no time for that. In the same way that Heller saw Matteo as the common denominator, Matteo was seeing a different pattern. Someone else was at the center of the deaths of the Magus Corps officer and Natalia’s parents—someone who may have had a motive to see them all dead, and yet spare Natalia.
