Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

Panicked, she fought them off until she realized they belonged to Allie.

With those large eyes, she scanned the store. “It doesn’t feel right. Let’s go to the back.”

A new wave of adrenaline kicked in, and Iris raced her sister to the service corridor and down to the store’s back door.

“Iris, wait!”

She ignored Allie’s plea. Concern for Mickey made her fearless as she wrenched open the door and straight into the arms of a strange man. She had a moment to register a lean face and a determined hunter’s gleam in his dark eyes. Before she could reverse her course, he grabbed hold of her arms and lifted her off the ground.

“Well, this must be my lucky night. It’s good to see you, Iris Fortune.” Though polite, his words sent horror racing up her spine.

She kicked at him, but the rubber-soled running shoes didn’t seem to do as much damage as her high heels might have. When the cold metal of a gun’s muzzle touched her throat, she stilled. Slowly, he lowered her to the ground.

“Good girl. Let’s go quietly.”

“Who are you?” But God help her, she knew. This must be Turner. She was going to die.

“We’ll talk later. For now, you need to walk quietly with me.” After she nodded, he pushed her along as he made his way slowly down the empty corridor.

The silence made it possible for Iris to hear her heart pound. She forced back the tears. Not now. She had to figure out a way to get away. She had to find Mickey.

A sudden impact from behind drove Turner into her back with force. Air whooshed out of his lungs as he stumbled, allowing Iris to break free. Iris spun about, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of Allie launching a high kick to Turner’s ribs. With her blond braid flying behind her, she bounced on her toes and held her fists at the ready like a real boxer. And the angry scowl on her face was one Iris wouldn’t want to mess with.

Turner didn’t seem as concerned. When Allie launched her next kick toward his head, he captured her foot and yanked her off balance.

Seeing her sister fall in his path, Iris leaped onto his back. “Leave her alone!”

“Goddammit, get off me,” he growled while her fists pummeled him. She thought she was making progress until he backed up and slammed them both into the wall. Her head snapped with the impact, and everything went dark. She barely maintained her feet as she lost her grip and fell off his back.

While her vision cleared, she waited for another blow or maybe that final gunshot. Where was Allie? Had her sister escaped?

Turner came at her with the gun, his lips curled back to issue some last deadly threat. And then he jerked to a stop with a grunt as the gun clattered to the concrete floor. Slowly, he turned his head, and Iris’s eyes widened. A knife protruded from his arm. They both looked down the corridor.

“Hold still, Iris.” Sergei stood thirty feet away, another knife held high in his hand as he took aim.

He throws knives? Iris squeezed her eyes shut, but she felt the draft of air and heard Turner’s footsteps as he retreated down the hall at a good clip.

Allie grabbed her hands. “Iris, are you all right?”

From the other direction, Sergei approached at a jog. “Should I go after him?” He grinned, enthused at the idea of continuing the hunt.

“No. We need to find Mickey.” She pulled her sister with her, leaving Sergei to follow. Entering the store, Iris unerringly found the switch and bathed the workroom with light. Desperately, she looked about.

Allie headed for the sales area but stopped at the doorway. “Iris, here.”

Iris stumbled forward to find Mickey crumpled on the floor. Blood covered his shirt from his left shoulder down.

Iris kneeled to check his pulse. “Mickey?”

An unnatural pallor had replaced his glowing tan. That sharp awareness in his eyes had gone dull and didn’t seem to focus until he recognized her. He conjured up a shadow of his pirate’s grin. “I’m sorry. He got away.”

She laid a hand against his jaw, holding it steadily, lovingly. “Hang on. I’m here.”

He shifted and pressed his cell phone into her hand. “Call my parents,” he said before closing his eyes.

She choked down a sob, so afraid this might be her only chance to tell him. “I love you, Mickey. Whatever you do, don’t leave me.”

The drive to the hospital was surreal. Officer Foote didn’t turn on the siren, but he had all the blue lights flashing as he easily topped eighty down Tropicana Boulevard. Iris put her life in his hands while she recalled those horrific moments after finding Mickey covered with blood. Allie had been so level-headed-she’d tried to call EMS, but before the call connected, a medical team arrived, along with Bellagio security, and Hunter was there, and there was nothing left for Iris to do but watch them wheel Mickey away. She covered her mouth with her hand to hold back a sob as Foote pulled into the hospital entrance.

Seeing the words Emergency Room on the sign chilled her. She hesitated a moment, remembering her last visit to an ER-thankfully, it had been to a different hospital. That had been the night her mother had the car accident on I-15. Eight years ago, but in high-stress moments like these, it felt like yesterday.

She drew a long breath to steady herself, then followed Foote through the automated doors where the distinct smell of sterility assaulted her. A baby cried in the waiting room, though none of the half-dozen people sitting there seemed to notice. She scanned the faces, even though she knew Mickey wouldn’t be here.

“We got here as quick as we could.”

Iris turned at Allie’s voice. She and Cory both looked paler and more tired than earlier this evening. They’d all started out with such hopes.

“You didn’t catch Cosmo then,” Iris said to Cory.

“I swear, he disappeared into thin air.” She sounded chagrined as she pushed her heavy curls back and glanced around the waiting room. “Did Sergei come with you?”

“I left him at the store. Security and police will be all over it because of the shooting. He said he’d keep an eye on all my stuff.”

“That store’s your livelihood. Shouldn’t you be there?”

“My place is here.” It calmed her to accept that truth. Wherever Mickey was, if he needed her, that’s where she belonged.

Allie wandered past the admissions desk, her arms folded against the full-force air conditioning. Turning to look back over her shoulder, she called out to them. “Justin’s down this way. Come on.” She led them back to another, quieter waiting room. The room was empty save for Hunter, who rose when he saw them.

“Tell me,” Iris said.

“They’ve taken him into surgery. I was hoping you’d get here before they sedated him.”

“Trust me, Foote tried.” Iris allowed Cory to lower her onto a sofa. “How’d you get there so quick?”

“Cosmo called 911 to report shots fired and an officer down. That’s what probably saved Mickey. He’s got a gunshot wound to the shoulder, and he hit something that cracked a couple ribs. He was going into shock when the paramedics got to him.”

“Will he-”

Hunter seemed to zero in on her terror. He reached for her hands, sharing his own strength and warmth. “Sure he will. The surgery is pretty minor. The docs just want to take a look around, see if there’s any damage in his shoulder. He should be his old cocky self by daybreak.”

Iris slumped against the back of the sofa and buried her face in her hands. Three steadying breaths later, she felt almost confident that she wouldn’t burst into tears. Almost. She folded her hands in her lap. “Where’s Foote?”

Hunter rubbed his tired eyes. “I told him to get some sleep. I figure you’ll be here with me for a couple hours.”