Amy Atwell - Lying Eyes

He hated to stomp all over it. “Allie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He didn’t want to embarrass her, but it was best to deal with this now. “Look, you’ve had a highly emotional weekend. Sometimes, that leads to people misreading some of those emotions and…thinking that something is developing that really isn’t developing…and…”

Allie bowed her head, but before he could think of a way to console her tears, she looked back at him with a barely suppressed grin.

Immediately, he went on the defensive. “What?”

“You think you know me after one weekend. Well, you don’t.” She stepped forward and clasped his hands. “Don’t drag a lot of emotion into this. It’s a drink, not a proposal.”

She was the most centered person he’d ever met, which was odd, since she was forever pushing him off balance. But there was no denying her quirky ways appealed to him. She had an eagerness for sharing-her thoughts, her company, her protective instincts-that made him want to give back.

And that was dangerous. Justin was a private person for good reason. If Allie opened up his past, she would find only hurt.

His gaze drifted to her wrists. Mild bruising remained as the sole evidence of the trauma she’d experienced earlier. Despite her fragile appearance, she was strong, resilient.

“There’s Darby.”

And completely in her own world. Justin swiveled his head. An officer clad in Kevlar with a black Labrador retriever on a close leash was stopping before the coffee machine.

“Darby?” He recalled his first meeting with Allie in the interrogation room. “You mean, the woman on the bomb squad? The five babies?”

“I never said woman. That’s her.” Her head tilted toward the coffee machine.

Justin did a double take. “That’s Frank Gomez. He’s not even married.”

Allie burst out laughing. “No, the dog. That’s Darby.”

The Lab sat on her haunches to stare at them and issued a soft whine. Even to Justin, she looked like she was grinning.

Allie tugged on his hand, pulling his attention back to her smiling face. “Come on, one drink. I’ll buy.”

Justin hesitated and, in that split second, acknowledged surrender. “Alberta Fortune, you have your own brand of magic,” he said with a rusty laugh. He glanced sidelong at the steadfast piles of paper and his reliable cup of tea. Then he turned his back on them and said as lightly as he could, “One drink, and I’ll buy.”

Whatever it was he felt for this woman, he was already drowning in it.

A diehard gambler, Cosmo was betting even money that Cory would go ballistic when she saw him safe. Still, the least she deserved was a chance to read him the riot act in private. It was well past midnight when he drove to an understated subdivision where Cory rented the mother-in-law suite of a sprawling home owned by a gay couple.

He did his best to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as he knocked on her door. A cigarette and a blindfold might not help the situation but, at the moment, he wouldn’t turn either down.

Opening the door, Cory stared as if he were a ghost. “Your beard’s gone.”

He nodded sheepishly then spread his hands open, palms up. “Nothing up my sleeve.” He steeled himself for fireworks, but they never came.

She didn’t yell or threaten or sob or pull any of the histrionics he deserved. No, Cory wept. Like a little girl. For all her poise and discipline, she was the most fragile of his three daughters.

It about broke his heart.

Paternal instincts, rusty with disuse, kicked in. He gathered her into his arms.

Iris’s reprimands always put him on the defensive and encouraged him to make excuses for his actions, but Cory’s silence tore at his conscience. He suspected the sick feeling in his stomach was that strange emotion called guilt. He’d heard of it often enough but, until now, he hadn’t been convinced he was susceptible.

He couldn’t guess what it must have cost her to learn that her mother was still alive. That shock alone might have crushed lesser people.

For the first time, he questioned the wisdom of keeping that secret from her for so long.

“Do you hate me?”

“Never.” Her arms tightened around his neck.

“Can I come in?” he choked.

That made her laugh. She released her grip and stepped back to let him enter. He allowed her a moment to wipe her face and pretended the sniffle he heard was caused by allergies. Denial had long been his co-pilot.

“Do you want anything?” Cory shut the door and marched past him to the kitchen. “I was just making a grilled cheese.”

“That sounds great. If you have enough.” He took a seat at the little counter that divided the warmly lit kitchen from the dark living room. “I’m not sure I deserve it.”

“Hmm, two slices of white bread and American cheese. I don’t think that will set me back too far.”

Cosmo watched her make a second sandwich in silence. Apparently, he’d taught her how to play that denial trick, too. He recalled that Iris had been less worried about gems and killers and more focused on his three families. Summoning his courage, he launched his second father-daughter conversation in less than sixteen hours.

“Roxana says you’ve known about her.”

The sandwich slipped off the spatula and Cory burned her fingers retrieving it. She glanced up at him, her lips pressed tightly closed.

He sighed. “Why didn’t you ask me about her? All these years-”

“It wasn’t your place to tell me, it was hers. And what was the point? She obviously didn’t intend to come home.”

“No, you’re right about that.” He’d accepted Roxana’s decision years ago, but it was harder for her daughter.

“Why?” Tears brimmed in Cory’s eyes again, but there also gleamed a fiery indignation. “What did I do that made her leave?”

Hampered by the counter dividing them, Cosmo leaned over and drew her hand into his. “My little Corazon.”

She pulled away from him. “Why did she disappear?”

“Only she can tell you that.”

“I don’t want to talk to her. Why should I believe anything she says? She’s never cared about me.”

This time, Cosmo hopped off his stool and came around into the kitchen. “That’s not true. She loves you. We could go see her right now. Sit down, the three of us. A family again. Talk this out. Would you like that?”

Her almond eyes, so like her mother’s, remained haunted with unshed tears. “You told me she was dead. How could you do such a thing? I cried for her for weeks, months.”

The memory of Cory’s adolescent grief confirmed that, after all this time, guilt had wrestled him to the ground.

“I let you get away with it for years. You lied.”

That hurt. “Cory, believe me, if there had been any other way, I would never-” Drawing a long breath, he ran his hand through his hair. Even after all this time, he didn’t feel right about digging up secrets that were better buried. “Look at me.”

It took a good thirty seconds, but she finally met his gaze.

“Your mother made a brave and terrible sacrifice. But she did what she did to protect you. It was the only way she could keep you safe.”

Cory’s mouth dropped open a moment before she all but choked on a bitter laugh. “She stayed away all these years for my benefit? That’s a crock.”

He withstood the sarcasm. “Believe what you want, but one day, you’re going to have to sit down and talk to her so you can understand her side of the story.”

“On a cold day in hell,” Cory said. He’d forgotten she could be as stubborn as her mother. Now was probably not the time to share that comparison. Instead, he thought it best to share his intentions.