Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

“They never tell you the truth in these places.” Cosmo slipped out to the hall but returned immediately with a plastic bag, shutting the door behind him. He opened the bag and laid clothes on the foot of the bed. Navy blue pants, socks, dark shoes, cap, and a gray logo-emblazoned polo shirt.

“That’s a uniform for one of those plant people.”

“It’s the perfect disguise for you.” Cosmo looked hopeful as a child.

“If I didn’t hurt like hell, this might be amusing. Hunter’s already on Donovan’s trail. Let the professionals handle this.”

Cosmo stared at him. Despite the false eyelashes, his eyes shone with a fear Mickey had never seen before. “You’ve got to help me. Donovan’s got Iris. He’s got all of them. Once he realizes Turner’s been caught, he’ll kill them.”

He sat up, ignoring the searing pain through his shoulder. “Call the police.”

“I don’t have time to explain all this to the police. They’re not going to storm Donovan’s home without a mile of proof-he’s too powerful.” He scratched at the edge of his wig. “Jock and Pebbles are holding Cory and Allie. I sent Marko to free them.”

Mickey stopped in the act of plucking free the various cords taped to his chest. “You sent a civilian?”

“He and Viktor are industry professionals, of sorts.”

Throwing back the covers, Mickey slid his legs off the bed. Dizziness struck him as he stood, but he’d just have to get over that. Cosmo handed him clothes and, with a final look at the out-cold Turner, Mickey headed into the tiny restroom to get dressed.

He was barely out of the surgical gown when he heard Cosmo assume a raspy falsetto as he spoke to someone.

“He was determined to use the bathroom, so I helped him take those off. I’ll help him back to bed, don’t worry.” There was a pause with some low murmurings. “Good friend of his, been up all night. He’s exhausted, poor thing.”

Willing to play his role, Mickey flushed the toilet and ran some sink water. “I’m going to brush my teeth,” he called through the door.

“It’s all right. She’s gone,” Cosmo replied in his normal tone.

Mickey tugged the shirt over his head, proving his left arm was all but useless. “Cosmo, tell me one thing-do the Romanov gems really exist?”

“Of course they do.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Not exactly. George Halsted hid them someplace safe before they killed him.”

“You had the Gorseyevs’ lab-grown gems. Why didn’t you give those to Donovan?” Mickey had to lean against the sink while he balanced on one foot to pull on the trousers.

“That was my original plan, but after George disappeared, I knew that giving Donovan what he wanted was a death warrant. The only way to stay alive was to convince him he needed me to get the gems in his hands. So I hid Tatiana’s gems at Iris’s store.”

“And Iris found them and put them on Edgar’s collar.”

“Do you know what she did with the stones that were on Edgar’s collar?”

Mickey froze. “Do not tell me those stones were the Romanov gems.”

“No, they’re just cheap plastic. But George hid notes inside those fake gems telling where he hid the Romanov gems. He and I were going to try to get our money first, then hand the collar over, bu-uh-uh-” A hard thunk rattled the door.

Mostly dressed, Mickey pulled the door open to see Turner had come to and was attacking Cosmo. He had his arms wrapped around the magician as he tried to get a chokehold with his elbow. To his credit, Cosmo fought him off with surprising strength. They blocked the doorway, and Mickey couldn’t get past them to reach the gun that still lay tangled with the blankets on the bed. Nothing for it but to launch into the fight and hope he didn’t rip the hell out of his stitches.

“My pocket,” Cosmo gasped from his reddened face.

Mickey grabbed the billowing lab coat as the two men struggled to and fro and searched it until he got hold of the syringe. He nodded at Cosmo.

“Thigh,” he choked out.

Turner made a grab at him with one hand, but not before Mickey sank the syringe into the hit man’s thigh. Within seconds, his struggles grew erratic, his hold lessened and, finally, he folded to the floor.

Cosmo dragged the body into the bathroom then straightened his wig in the mirror. “He’ll be out at least two hours. You ready?”

Mickey glanced at Turner, but realized they’d lose thirty minutes answering questions if someone came in and found him. He pushed the door shut.

“Ready.” He’d have Hunter pick up the hit man. They’d need his testimony to convict Donovan. Mickey’s immediate concern was to find Iris.

Because if Donovan had her in his clutches, she was bound to wind up dead. Mickey had promised to keep her safe, and this time, he wasn’t going to fail her.

Iris remained silent in the back of the town car during the ride from her apartment, but as they pulled up to a gated villa at an exclusive golf community, her jaw dropped open.

“You brought me to your home?” she asked when she regained her voice.

Beside her, Donovan’s lip curled in an unfriendly smile. “I have unrivaled privacy here. And it seemed the most expedient, considering the day’s…activities.”

That subdued her until she recognized it was his intention. Slowly, she pulled herself together. Edgar rested quietly on her lap, the collar still around his neck. With the tinted windows blocking out the sun’s rays, the gems nearly matched the color of his red eyes as he blinked at her. We’re in this together, she thought. Donovan might intend to kill her, but she could still fight him.

She just had to figure out how.

The car eased to a stop, and Donovan climbed out first. Coming around, he opened her door and helped her overcome the extra twenty pounds of rabbit as she gained her feet. He ushered her into the Spanish-style villa where her low-heeled sandals clicked on the Travertine marble floor.

A curving staircase soared to the second floor, and the entryway ceiling had to be three stories up. The foyer alone told her Donovan was a man of exceptional taste, wealth, power-why would a man like that resort to killing people?

Glancing his way, she guessed the real answer was because he could. He liked to be in control. Hell, she could have warned him that hiring Cosmo would prove to be a mistake.

“Let’s take your little friend out back.” Donovan led the way across a family room that equaled the floor space of her store and through a wide bank of sliding glass doors. The patio featured a swimming pool large and lush enough to accommodate three hundred of his closest friends-assuming he had that many.

Apparently, he had two friends, who were standing at the far end of the pool. Young and heavyset, they looked like they hailed from the South Pacific, but their suits and dour expressions suggested an island where there’d never been any partying. No, they wouldn’t be any help to her.

She set Edgar down, but Donovan stopped her.

“Uh-uh. First, let’s have the collar. I wouldn’t want our little friend to get away.”

Right. She removed the collar and handed it to him. In the sunlight, the gems now glinted with the green of very dark, muted emeralds.

Edgar hopped to the edge of the pool but decided against the smell of chlorine. Blinking a few times and swiveling his ears, he retreated to the patio table’s shade.

“You might want to keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t leave the patio,” Donovan said. “The Dobermans would find him very tasty.”

If she hadn’t loathed him before, she did now. “Do you plan to authenticate that?”

“I do. I’m expecting a jeweler any minute who’s bringing his refractometer. Don’t think you’ll be able to pass off chemically treated copies this time.”