Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

“Oh, I wouldn’t try that trick twice.” She pulled out a rattan chair and sat. “What you’ve got there are definitely alexandrites.”

“They’re more than that. They’re the future.”

Iris’s brows knit. That made no sense-even if they were the Romanov gems he thought they were. “I would have thought you’d say they’re history, a prize of rich cultural heritage.”

Donovan stared at the collar in his hand, studying the gems one by one. “Oh, they’re that, too. That’s what makes them so valuable.”

Well, we’ll see about that. “Why did you buy them?”

“Do you know how I got where I am? I seek unique opportunities. I see things other men miss. I’m willing to risk capital when others play it safe.”

She rested a forearm on the table. Did he see himself as some diabolical villain who was going to tell her his life story? “It was a simple question.”

He pursed his lips, then relaxed and laughed. “Of course. Life is short.”

Bastard.

“These gems mean a great deal to the Russian government, though not enough to negotiate with the Russian mafia. I’ve played middleman. I bought the stones-”

“With your own money?”

“With my company’s money, yes. It’s an investment. Once I have the gems, I’ll give them to Russia’s Ministry of Culture for posterity.”

Iris was still lost. “And I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. But that leaves you ten million short. Don’t tell me you did it as a good deed.”

This did make him laugh. “I already make plenty of charitable contributions. No, there have been sweeping changes in Russia’s gaming regulations. The largest change is that they closed all the Moscow casinos. However, plenty of gamblers are begging them to reopen.”

“So, you trade the Romanov gems to the Russian government for some sort of guarantee?”

“Exactly. They promise to return my gaming license for my Moscow casino and grant me the exclusive right to reopen. In fact, I’m about to purchase a tract of Moscow property from the Bellagio owners that will enable me to double my casino’s size.”

“A ten-million-dollar bribe.”

“A business negotiation.”

“If it’s strictly business, why kill people?”

“I bought those gems from people with known criminal links.” His eyes glittered in the reflected sunlight from the pool. “As the CEO of my corporation, I must answer to my investors and the SEC. Both frown on conducting business with criminals.”

She read the hostility in his voice. Donovan was a man who didn’t like answering to anyone. “And why involve Cosmo?”

“I have your father to thank for the original inspiration. He told me the story of the Romanov alexandrite years ago-said it was a myth. When I learned that the Russian Minister of Culture came from the family that manufactured the Romanov necklace, I asked Cosmo to help me track down the gems.”

Oh lord… “Let me guess. Minister Gorseyev.”

His eyes narrowed on her.

Iris shrugged. “Any historical research will turn up information on the Gorseyev family being jewelers to the czars.”

He let it go, for which she was grateful. Now was not a good time for him to find out she and Cosmo were related to the Gorseyevs.

The doors behind him slid open, and a short woman with dark hair, round cheeks and a round middle beckoned Donovan inside. A housekeeper of some sort, Iris surmised.

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Fortune. I believe the jeweler has arrived.”

“Are you planning to kill him, too?”

He chuckled. “I’ve asked him here to tell me what type of gems I’ve recently found from a relative’s belongings. I don’t think he’ll prove dangerous with that tiny scrap of information. Now, if you’ll wait here, I’ll return shortly.” With a nod to the two guards, he walked toward the house. At the patio doors, he stopped. “I’ll have Betina bring you some iced tea. She speaks very little English, and she’s devoted to me.”

Iris got the message. Don’t look to the housekeeper as a possible ally. No, she knew she was on her own.

Betina brought her a glass of iced tea on a tray, along with lemon wedges and a variety of sweeteners. First class service. The housekeeper left everything on the table and, sparing a glance at the two guards, retreated back into the house.

Iris peered under the table to find Edgar dozing in the shade. Well, if the rabbit could take their situation philosophically, so could she-for the moment, anyway. Let Donovan authenticate those gems. Let him have a few minutes of believing he’d achieved his desires before she started to undermine his certitude.

She sipped iced tea while she considered her options. They were few and not very appealing. At least she had the consolation of knowing Donovan was bound to get caught. Hunter was already on his trail-he only needed proof. And Cosmo had the knowledge to put him away.

So her father had stolen Tatiana’s gems with the intention of handing them off to Donovan and leaving the casino owner to trade them back to the Gorseyev family. Which meant, in a way, Cosmo hadn’t stolen them, but merely borrowed them. Iris rolled her eyes. She should probably worry that she was starting to think like her father. Obviously, the Gorseyevs would know to test the gems more fully, and they would discover they’d been given their own gems back. So much for Donovan’s guarantee of the biggest casino in Moscow.

Cosmo must have backpedaled his plan when he learned Aunt Tatiana was on his trail. But why did he have it in for Donovan? And what, if anything, had Cosmo purchased with the ten million sent to that Russian mafia leader?

She scanned the patio, weighing potential escape scenarios. None of them were good, and she’d never make it with Edgar. If only she could use what she knew to help her get out of here. Adrenaline buzzed within her, making her fingers drum against the glass while she tried to wrestle her disjointed thoughts into a clear picture of how this whole scheme had played up to now. It briefly flashed through her mind that Mickey probably loved this aspect of his job-the rush, the danger. She had to admit, she got a kick out of knowing information Donovan didn’t.

God, she really was her father’s daughter.

Cosmo. She shook her head. He’d taken off at the first opportunity, leaving her in Donovan’s clutches. Yet, this time she felt certain her father was out there doing something for his other daughters-like saving their lives-and that he’d somehow make it back here before it was too late.

He’d always been there when she really needed him. Today would be a hell of a day to screw up a perfect record.

Jock opened a beer and congratulated himself. This abduction had gone off without a hitch, and they were home free. He still wasn’t sure what all went down last night, but Turner wasn’t calling the shots anymore. Jock took a swig from the long-neck bottle. Good riddance. That turd had made his life miserable the past couple of weeks.

Now he was taking orders directly from the Boss, the top dog. Let Mickey get a load of him now-oh, sorry, Mick ol’ pal, wound up in the hospital, didn’t you? Jock grinned.

Pebbles laughed out loud. Christ, he was watching those TV Land sitcoms again. That shit hadn’t been funny forty years ago, and it was even more stupid now. Pebbles laughed again, and Jock drank more beer, grateful he didn’t have to entertain his partner.

He wandered to the bedroom door and looked in on their “guests.” He wasn’t taking any chances this time. The two women were tied up good and tight. He still didn’t know how Mickey and Iris had managed to escape.

“You want some beer?” He held up his bottle.

The brunette scowled at him. “No, but for the eighth time, some water and a bathroom break would be nice.”