Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

Allie stifled a giggle. “Don’t judge, Cory.” Her reprimand sounded more like a divine pronouncement. She turned glowing tawny eyes on Iris. “Be careful.”

Heat rushed to Iris’s face at this unwarranted advice and, to hide it, she stalked over to the chair where she’d draped her suit jacket. Gathering command of herself, she returned to take her shoes from Cory. “Did you two come here to tag-team me on my personal life? Because it’s none of your damn business.”

The brunette surrendered the heels. “We came here because you didn’t come to your shop. Believe me, I’d much prefer to be having this conversation at some centrally located restaurant.”

“Why should we have any conversation at all? I don’t want to know you.” Iris turned to include the blonde. “Either of you.”

Allie’s smile fell, and Iris experienced a swift slap of regret. Tough. Miss Sunshine there will have to learn the world isn’t all rainbows. Iris made a beeline for the front door. “Now, I’ve had a rather long day, so if you two could le-” A sudden jerk to her arm stopped her. She turned, prepared to do battle with that acidic brunette.

But it was Allie who had her by the arm and towered over her by a good four inches. Iris glanced down at the blonde’s sneakers. Determined to regain the upper hand, she marshaled her features into her most intimidating mask. “I’d let go of me if I were you, or I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Allie said with a surprisingly harsh laugh. “I’ve got a black belt in Aikido, I run five miles a day, and I’m the UNLV women’s kickboxing champion. Do you really want to take me on, sis?”

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Cory asked with infuriating calm.

Iris shook off Allie’s grip. “Cosmo may have fathered all of us, but that doesn’t make me your sister.” She thought the barb would penetrate like the last one, but the blonde had steeled herself against such verbal mocking.

“Fine.” Allie tossed her head like a wild horse unwilling to be bridled, her eyes still hard and brilliant. “Just sit down and talk to us.”

“Why?” Iris practically growled in her frustration.

“Justin thinks that between the three of us, we might be able to piece together what Daddy was up to, or at least where he’s hiding.”

It took Iris a moment to gather that Justin was Detective Hunter. She looked over at Cory, who’d already taken a seat on the sofa.

Cory lifted her brows in silent agreement that using the cop’s first name was a bad sign. “Detective Hunter may be right.”

“I’m sure of it,” Allie said, sitting beside Cory. “I know about Daddy’s magic act, Cory knows about his gambling habits, and Iris, you know-”

Nothing. Iris sank into a chair, dropping her shoes and jacket to the floor beside her. She was suddenly very unsure of herself and resented the hell out of it. Here were two women who’d grown up with Cosmo’s love. Either of them probably knew him better than she did.

Allie’s nose twitched in thought. “What do you know about him?”

Iris contemplated both their expectant faces and stifled the urge to guzzle the remains of her gin and tonic. “I know he’s a charming liar who can disappear like that.” She snapped her fingers. “He was forever dreaming up crazy schemes that would make our family rich.”

“Only none of them ever succeeded.” Cory nodded. “Yeah, Papa is a dreamer.”

“I love that about him,” Allie said with a smile that softened her features.

“Me, too,” Cory agreed.

Cosmo had certainly snowed both of them. But Iris found she couldn’t voice any dissent for the lump in her throat.

“Did Papa teach you about gems and jewelry?” the brunette asked.

Iris brushed her hair back from her eyes. “No. The jewelry business was my mother’s. She was a true artist.”

Allie scanned the still-open book on the coffee table before looking up. “I take it she’s gone?”

“She died eight years ago in a car accident.”

Allie nodded. “Lying Eyes, that’s a great name for the shop. The jewelry is beautiful.”

Despite herself, Iris felt a wave of pride.

“You’re lucky to have your own business,” Cory added. “What I wouldn’t give to not have to clock in on someone else’s schedule.”

“Where do you work?” Iris asked the question before she remembered that she wasn’t participating in this conversation.

“The Venetian. I’m a dealer there.”

“Did Cosmo teach you to cheat at cards?” Allie asked.

Cory grinned. “He did. Not that I’d ever do it at work.”

Allie pantomimed dealing. “Yeah, he taught me how to palm cards as soon as I could handle shuffling. He said it was only for the magic act, never for the casinos.”

“I was never any good at it,” Iris admitted. “Eventually he gave up on me.”

“But you’ve got other talents,” Allie said. “Your jewelry designs are amazing.”

Another wave of warmth washed over her. “What do you do? I mean, when you’re not kicking the hell out of someone?”

Allie laughed. “Sorry, I’m normally very nonaggressive. I’m a graduate student in kinesiology at UNLV, but I really hope to become a veterinarian one day. Right now, I’m a stage assistant over at MGM.”

“Cool,” Cory said.

Allie shrugged. “I used to help Daddy, but he told me I needed to move on.”

Another spark of jealousy singed Iris. Cosmo had never tried to include her in his work. Now it was obvious he hadn’t needed to. He’d had other daughters to train. She turned back to business. “So, did Detective Hunter give you any idea of what we should be sharing with each other? I’d rather not be up all night.”

“He wasn’t specific,” Allie said. “But when he suggested it, I thought maybe there were things we’d be willing to tell each other that we’re not ready to share with the police.” Her gaze dropped again to the book on the coffee table.

Iris leaned back into the cushions of her chair. Let the blonde look. Iris wasn’t sharing anything with them until she was ready.

“He’s right,” Cory said. “I think between us we may have the information we need to find Papa. Maybe even help him.”

“And what makes you think that?” Iris said.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “He told me as much when I saw him this afternoon.”

Marko Gorseyev adjusted himself in the tight-fitting airport chair. His brother Viktor made a similar rustling next to him. Hell, they were like two matronly hens trying to settle on their nests. Marko doubted Viktor would find the comparison amusing, so he didn’t share it.

Really, there was little amusing about passing from one’s prime. They were both nearing sixty and, though Viktor was younger, Marko still felt robust as an ox. Despite losing his hair. Despite the belly that kept getting larger no matter how he cut back on desserts. Despite how life had fallen into a mundane routine.

All in all, a trip to America might be fun-

“Marko!” Aunt Tatiana’s voice carried over all the other terminal sounds.

– except that his aging aunt insisted on making the trip with them. Even now, Viktor’s son Sergei was playing nursemaid to her, wheeling her in that chair. Well, it might be more comfortable than what he was sitting on.

“Marko!”

He stumbled to his feet. He should have done so the first time she called. The accepted matriarch of the family since before the Cold War ended, she rarely raised her voice. Though what she expected him to do for her was unclear. “Yes, aunt. What is wrong?”

“They say our departure will leave late. Why is that?”

He shrugged. “There are many possible reasons.” And he wasn’t about to list them for her. He made a quick gesture to Viktor to warn him to stay quiet. Fueling her ire while they were stuck in this terminal would be worse than hell.