Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

So much for needing that interpreter who’d started to ask too many questions.

A face leaned down to peer in the window. Jock shielded his eyes from the parking lot lights to try to see inside the vehicle.

“Back off.” Donovan preferred not to be recognized.

“Sorry, sir.” Jock took two giant steps backward and slammed against the beefy wall of Pebbles’s chest. The giant didn’t flinch.

“Where’s Mickey?”

“He’s working on recovering the gems. Says he’ll have them by tomorrow night.”

“What about Fortune?”

“Mickey offed him,” Jock said with a weasel’s grin.

Pebbles nodded with force. “Stuffed him in his car trunk. He’s dumping the body tonight.”

“Good.” Mickey was relatively new to his staff, but despite an irritating habit of thinking for himself, the young man showed promise. “Did he give any indication where the gems are?”

“No,” Jock said while Pebbles scratched his head.

“He was going to trade the bunny for the stones. Too bad. I wanted the bunny.”

Donovan’s gaze locked with the smaller man’s, who glanced quickly sideways as if he fantasized about slapping the big lug but feared retaliation.

Jock straightened his tie and cleared his throat. “Cosmo’s rabbit from the act.”

“I don’t give a damn if it’s Bugs Bunny himself. Tomorrow, I want you to find the rabbit. If Mickey’s given it to someone, that person knows too much. We can’t leave loose ends on this deal. Bring me whoever has that rabbit.”

Pebbles listened intently then brightened. “Hey, can I have the bunny?”

This time, Jock did cuff him sharply on the ear.

“Ow.”

“Stay focused, moron.” Jock made a sketchy salute to the limo. “We’ll take care of it, boss.”

He signaled his driver and raised the window. Mickey had better bring the stones in by tomorrow night, or there’d be hell to pay. And anyone in Vegas would tell you Robert Donovan always collected his debts.

The aroma of brewing coffee woke Iris from her fog. She’d made coffee? Well…obviously, unless her nose were lying. It wasn’t as if Cosmo would show up and fix her breakfast. He knew less about cooking than she did.

It had been late-very late-when Cory and Allie finally left last night, leaving Iris awake for hours replaying their conversation in her head. She was torn. The other women weren’t so bad, and now that she could look at them without freaking out about their resemblance in appearance and mannerisms, she thought they might even become friends. But she’d always been a lousy daughter, so it was doubtful she’d ever make do as a big sister.

She rubbed her eyes with one hand while running the other through her tousled hair. “Kristos,” she muttered, spying the clock. It was already past seven. Even for a Sunday she’d slept late. Rising, she avoided the mirror, knowing she hadn’t removed yesterday’s makeup. Her hair felt like a rat’s nest, and her tongue still felt a little furry from lack of sleep. She’d been so preoccupied after her sisters left, she’d abandoned her normal nightly regimen. She didn’t even remember prepping coffee, but apparently she’d done that by rote, or maybe she’d been sleepwalking. Anything was possible.

Blinking against the brighter daylight in the living room, she stumbled into the kitchen while still pulling on her bathrobe.

“Well now, if I’d known you were sleeping in the nude, I would have woken you up sooner.”

The male voice made her gasp. She fumbled with the sash on her robe, momentary terror already giving way to outrage. “Get out of here. Now!”

Mickey looked like a stalking jungle cat, his blue eyes sharp and clear behind the steaming mug he held just below his lips. “Oops, she woke up on the cranky side of the bed this morning.” From his perch on the countertop, he took a sip, as if he joined her for coffee every morning.

Wheeling about, she marched across the living room to survey the front door inside and out. Seeing no damage, she returned to the kitchen. “How do you keep getting in here?”

“Now, you wouldn’t want me to tell you all my secrets, would you?” He poured coffee into her favorite mug, added half and half until it reached that caramel color she craved and handed it to her.

He didn’t take commands, and she doubted she could scare him by losing her temper. “I’m not through yelling at you,” she said, accepting the cup. “Let’s just be clear on that.”

“A small price to pay. God, I knew you’d look good all mussed up.” He shot her a devilish smile.

Her body heated in response to his patent maleness in the close confines of her kitchen. He still wore last night’s black clothes, more rumpled now, smelling more of him than his woodsy aftershave. Their gazes locked, and for one crazy moment she thought he might kiss her. Even more frightening, she realized she wanted him to. Belatedly, she remembered she hadn’t brushed her teeth. She gulped some coffee, burning her tongue.

“Were you sleeping alone in there?”

Halfway through another gulp, Iris coughed and sputtered at his question. At least the caffeine was helping her to think.

“Easy there, tiger.” His smile softened while concern tempered his eyes. “Don’t drown on me. I still need your help.”

The hint of a softer side was scarier than his ruggedness. And the idea that he might need her-for anything-was too appealing for words.

“I was just wondering if Edgar was in your bedroom. There’s no sign of him out here.”

“Oh.” So he hadn’t been worried about her sleeping with another man. And why not? “No, turns out Allie has a thing for animals. She took Edgar home last night.” She contemplated him, recalling Allie’s crazy assertion that Edgar claimed Mickey had threatened her father with a gun. She couldn’t bring herself to believe it. He might be a liar and a thief but, like Cosmo, he wouldn’t harm anyone.

“How’d it go with your sisters?” he asked quietly.

She looked away, not from his question, but from the tone that implied he cared.

But he wouldn’t allow her silence. “Talk to me. What were they like?”

Her eyes stung, and she blamed yesterday’s mascara. She swallowed then cleared her throat before she managed to find her voice. “They weren’t so bad. Allie’s a little nuts, and Cory’s got a whole Joan of Arc complex, but what do you expect when they’ve got Cosmo’s blood in their veins?”

When he said nothing, she stole a look at him. He stared down at his cup, his jaw set in a hard line. The creases of his tanned face were still as a statue, while his eyes glinted like empty blue glass.

Her shoulders slumped. “I know I sound like a spoiled brat, but seriously, this was one hell of a lie to learn about my father.”

Mickey blinked then looked up at the ceiling before he finally zeroed in on her. “You’re entitled to be angry, to find it hard to accept them. But if anything happens to Cosmo, those two women are family. Be grateful for that.”

It seemed such an incongruous thing for him to say, but before she could ask what he meant, someone knocked quietly on her door. Iris resigned herself to another day interrupted off track before it had even begun.

But Mickey sprang quietly toward the door ahead of her. She was shocked to see that instead of his coffee cup, he now held a gun. He really carried a gun? She hadn’t believed Allie’s crazy story. Suddenly her quiet Sunday morning got complicated. Like having a jewel thief break in wasn’t enough, now he was armed and dangerous.

He stole to the door on silent feet and peered through the peephole. Leaning back, he turned his head and mouthed, “David.” He paused to stuff the gun somewhere behind his back then retrieved his coffee before jogging into her bedroom. He closed the door without a sound.