Lying Eyes

By Amy Atwell

Her jewels were real, but her life was fake.

No-nonsense jewelry designer Iris Fortune yearns for a normal life. But life as Vegas magician Cosmo Fortune’s daughter is anything but normal, especially since dear old Dad is also a scam artist. When Cosmo’s latest scheme goes awry and he pulls a real-life disappearing act, Iris is left holding the bag.

Now Iris must be a master of illusion—play the poised partner to her politician fiancé while trying to save her father and stay out of reach of Mickey Kincaid, the sexy thief who claims he’s only after her jewels.

Detective Kincaid is deep undercover and seeks Iris out because of her connection to Cosmo—he never expected to be so drawn to her. While working with Iris to find the elusive con man, Mickey learns a killer has Iris in his sights, and he must do everything he can to save her, without blowing his cover.

Mickey’s put his life on the line before, but never his heart—and now he’s not sure which is more dangerous…

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Dedication

To my family—immediate and extended—I love you.

Acknowledgments

I’ve always loved visiting Las Vegas, so when the character of Cosmo Fortune conjured himself in my brain, I was happy to follow his lead. It’s a difficult task to create fiction against such a well-known backdrop, so my thanks to Las Vegas, Nevada, for providing a larger-than-life setting for my fertile imagination!

Many wonderful people helped me through the process of writing this story. Thanks to Angi Morgan, godmother of this story, and my other critique partners, P.J. Alderman, Barbara White Daille, Dale Mayer and Therese Walsh. You ladies provided perspective and helped me find the trapdoor when I’d written myself into a corner. Special thanks to Debbi Michiko Florence for ten years of reading and sharing and reminding me to hold fast to the dream.

Thanks must also go to the women and men at WritingGIAM (“Dare Greatly!”), many of whom provided a keen eye and valuable feedback as well as inspiration during the dark times. Also, thanks to the Pixie Chicks and La La La Sisters, who give me support from afar via the internet. And to the dozens of writers who judged this manuscript in contests, whether you gave me high scores or low, I learned so much—thank you.

My heartfelt thanks to my agent Kevan Lyon for believing in this story, and to my editor Deborah Nemeth for giving it a public life.

But most of all, thanks and all my love to my husband. You bring me boundless joy.

Contents

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

About the Author

Chapter One

No doubt about it—Cosmo Fortune was a royal pain in the ass.

Mickey stepped back into the anonymity of the stage’s curtained shadows, aware that alerting the wily old coot to his presence would be a mistake. Instead, he rifled his jacket pocket for the familiar shape of the pain reliever bottle. Withdrawing two oval tablets, he popped them in his mouth and swallowed without water. With luck, they’d cut off the headache before it turned horrific.

Stress seemed to induce the blinding pain, and today had been nothing but stressful. Cosmo had failed to deliver the goods. Worse, that two-bit magician had lied to him, and Mickey was damned if he’d cover Cosmo’s ass anymore in this mess. The old guy was a bad liability, and Mickey wasn’t buying any more of his stories. He needed answers—and he needed them tonight—or someone was going to get hurt.

Yeah, like King Kong gnawing on his skull wasn’t enough.

His fingers drummed against his thighs as he waited for his quarry to finish his performance. Cosmo tried to make you think his brain power had receded like his hairline, mumbled his way out of messes with his folksy charm, and all the while he juggled his numerous little dealings with the same precise arcs as those flaming torches he now wielded onstage.

Well, this was bound to be Cosmo Fortune’s last show for a while. Quite a while.

The magician’s deft fingers conjured a dove from within the folds of his black cape. Capes had gone out with Liberace, Elvis, Houdini, for God’s sake. Amid sparse applause, the dove fluttered upward until it disappeared in the bright stage lights.

Careful, bird. Don’t be giving your boss any ideas.

Mickey glanced at his watch. Time was quickly becoming his enemy. Well, at least enemies were more predictable than friends in this game. He’d tried to befriend Cosmo, and look how that had turned out. Dangerous to have friends when you played every hand against the other.

He’d been doing that ever since he arrived in Vegas. His lifestyle didn’t allow for friendships. Not anymore.

Beyond the footlights, the half-filled auditorium resounded with sketchy applause and a few hoots as Cosmo Fortune took a bow. His assistant, scantily clad in a blue satin tutu, hauled a white rabbit roughly the size of a cocker spaniel off the draped table, handed the animal to Cosmo and all three took another bow. Finally, the curtain dropped.

Mickey marched forward to take the trickster’s pudgy arm. A strong smell of Axe aftershave wafted up from the magician and made Mickey’s headache bare its teeth again. He blinked against the flash of pain, imprinting the image of Cosmo’s mad-doctor hair and silver goatee, which always made the guy look like a cross between an aging Wolfman and a munchkin.

Cosmo’s impish golden eyes lit in recognition. “Mickey, my boy! Here, take Edgar—”

“Keep that damned carnivore away from me.”

Cosmo blinked. “It was an accident he bit you that time.”

“Like I’m going to believe anything you say,” Mickey said under his breath as the assistant came to lift the rabbit against her globe-shaped breasts. “We need to talk, old man.”

“Sure, sure.” Cosmo tried to pull away, but Mickey knew better than to loosen his grip. With a shrug, his captive relaxed and grinned as if this were all an elaborate game. “Let’s go see Iris. We’ll break her loose from that fancy party she’s attending. I tell you, you’re just the man for her.”

“I’ve met Iris and she ignored me.” Damn his matchmaking eyes. “Let’s go.”

“Oh, I can’t go without Edgar.”

Mickey gritted his teeth. The old guy could slide off a topic faster than a drunk off a barstool. Maybe a little psychology was in order. “You know, perhaps I should meet your daughter again. Let’s go find her. We can talk on the way.”

“Delightful!” Cosmo smiled, crooked as a coyote. His free hand riffled his hair and improved munchkin to Einstein.

Mickey released his hold, and the magician whipped off his cape and traded it to the lovely assistant for that damn rabbit. Its round red eyes watched Mickey while its nose and whiskers twitched in disdain. The silver collar with glittering fake rubies only made him look more like a rich brat.

So, you fur-coated hasenpfeffer, you think I’m no smarter than Elmer Fudd, eh? Mickey’s lip curled at the thought of dumping the creature on the freeway, or leaving it in the desert to fend for itself. The overfed animal would probably die if it missed a meal.

The assistant nuzzled the rabbit’s face. “Don’t keep Cosmo out too late, Edgar.” She eyed Mickey with open distrust. “You neither.” With a wink to her boss, she turned on her heel and shook her hips down the hall.

“She gave up a successful dancing career to work with me,” Cosmo said as Mickey ushered him to the door.

Mickey looked back over his shoulder at the woman. With that figure, she’d probably left a lucrative exotic dancing career, and what she saw in the aging Casanova eluded him.

They stepped from the backstage entrance to the tiny service lot and Cosmo pointed to a beat-up Cadillac in champagne pink. “I’m parked over there.”

“Great, but we’re taking my car.” Mickey nudged him toward a dark nondescript Prelude. What he intended to do didn’t need extra advertising.

“I don’t know why you don’t like Edgar.” Cosmo folded himself and the rabbit into the passenger seat.

Mickey closed the door on them and scanned the lot as he walked around the car. “No witnesses,” he muttered to himself. He climbed into his seat and drove along a mile of service roads to get to Las Vegas Boulevard. Once he was headed toward McCarran Airport, he allowed himself a smile. “You know why they sent me, right?”

“I can imagine.” The old man didn’t sound afraid at all. His pasty hand stroked the rabbit’s white back.

“Where are they?” Mickey slowed as he approached a stoplight. Beyond the intersection, the metal skeleton of a new hotel under construction rose from the desert, its moonlit silhouette clawing the sky like some black specter. “You shouldn’t mess with these guys. I thought I made that clear.”

“Why should I give over the goods before I’ve gotten my payment?”

“At this point, you should hand them over before I have to wrest them from your dead fingers.”

“You wouldn’t kill me, my boy.” But for the first time, Cosmo didn’t sound quite so blissfully sure of himself. “Didn’t they send you with my money?”

“They sent me with a gun, Cosmo.”

“But I always thought you liked me, my boy.”

“Yeah, well, given a choice, I like myself a whole lot better.” Mickey disobeyed all the traffic barrels and drove through a tight opening in a cement barricade onto the hotel construction site. A flick of his wrist dimmed the headlights, and the car eased forward, guided by an amber glow. He wove through heavy machinery before drawing to a stop near a large crane and a row of giant concrete tubes.

Hopefully, Cosmo’s silence meant he understood the severity of his situation. “Well?” Mickey cut the engine.

“Killing me will do you no good. I don’t have them on me.”

From his inside breast pocket Mickey withdrew a pair of leather driving gloves and took his time pulling them over his calm fingers. Unnerving his prey—this he knew how to do. “But you’ll tell me where you’ve stashed them.”

“You can’t force me.” The first trace of fear glimmered in the magician’s eyes, and he clutched the rabbit to his chest.

Mickey cocked a brow. “Come on, Cosmo. Like it wouldn’t be a bonus for me to shoot the rabbit first?”

As if he understood, Edgar tried to burrow into Cosmo’s tuxedo jacket.

“I don’t need to force you,” Mickey continued smoothly. “You’ll talk, because tonight, old man, you’re going to do a final disappearing act. And if you don’t tell me where those jewels are before you do, I’m going to pay a visit to your daughter Iris.” Mickey withdrew a gun from his shoulder holster and checked the empty chamber. “And when I’m done with her, I’ll visit your other two daughters.”

Cosmo’s chin fell limp. “How did you know?”

“Oh, come on. You were the one who taught me to study my adversary when I joined this little operation. Now I make it a point to learn everything about anyone I do business with. You’re nothing but a common grifter, Cosmo. You’re in way over your head with these guys.”

“I know,” Cosmo whispered.

Mickey drew a breath and eased his shoulders back. Ahh, the headache had disappeared. “Then what’s it going to be, my friend? Remember, you won’t be here to protect those little girls of yours. The best thing you can do is tell me where to find the jewels so I have no reason to visit any of them.”

The magician huddled in his seat and clung to the rabbit like it was a talisman against evil, but Mickey saw the telltale glistening of sweat in the older man’s thinning hair. Come on, give it over. Any moment, Cosmo would break and tell him what he wanted to know. And maybe, just maybe, no one would get hurt.

Mickey stole another quick glance at his watch. In less than an hour he needed to contact his employers, a group of men who didn’t understand failure. They certainly never forgave it.

With a little exhalation of breath, he looked over at Cosmo, prepared to strong-arm him more if necessary.

But the magician suddenly shoved the rabbit at Mickey’s face. “Take Edgar—I’ve gotta whiz!”

Mickey tried to get the rabbit off his chest and arms, but the animal held on with the tenacity of a bobcat. The oversized back feet kicked at him, digging in with long claws, and to his chagrin, he dropped his gun. He bent to the floorboard to retrieve it, and the damn rabbit bit him in the thigh. “Sonofabitch!”

By the time Mickey found the gun and locked the rabbit in the car, his headache had returned with a vengeance.

And Cosmo Fortune had disappeared.

***

The problem with wearing her hair up at these functions was that she never could guarantee the style would stay intact. Iris glanced around the crowded hotel ballroom. No one was watching her except some guy near the door who’d obviously crashed the black-tie affair. With his leather jacket and beat-up jeans, it wouldn’t take long for security to escort him out.

Pity, he was vaguely familiar and kind of sexy, in that tall, dark and dangerous sort of way. Not that he was her type. No, she wasn’t about to make the same mistake her mother had when she fell in love and married a Vegas magician.

Iris touched the back of her head, her smile firmly in place as she re-anchored three loose bobby pins.

Wending his way through the crowded party, David approached with two glasses of white wine and handed her one. “Do you need to go to the powder room to fix your hair?”

“I can’t tell. Do I?” She turned her head and awaited his judgment. David liked things perfect and orderly, just like she did. He led a normal, trustworthy and uncomplicated life, and that’s why she’d accepted his marriage proposal two weeks before. She tightened her left fingers, to reassure herself that she hadn’t forgotten to put on the engagement ring.

“Actually, it looks fine,” he said. When Iris faced him, he raised his glass. “To the most beautiful woman in the room.”

David really was sweet, and he openly adored her. Handsome in a blond news-anchor sort of way, he looked polished and well combed with just the right hint of tan. He’d made a success as junior partner at the law firm and made friends with his easy-going charm—important attributes to launching his political career. The man was practically perfect.

She rose on her toes to kiss him, but David stepped back. “You’ll ruin your lipstick.”

“Right.” She smiled up at him, and he bussed her on the cheek. Much better for both of them.

She clinked her glass with his, and they sipped in unison. She pursed her lips at the white wine.

“Is the Chardonnay all right? I know you’d prefer red.” His tone was apologetic, which only made her feel worse. She never wanted to say or do anything to drive him away. She needed—craved—David’s normalcy. A life with someone like him would make up for all the years when she hadn’t been able to count on her father.

“No, this is just what I wanted.” She sipped again with better control. She’d asked for white wine to protect her expensive ivory dress.

David waved to three men she didn’t know. “Smart choice. Red wine and that dress could be a disaster.”

Another trait they shared—smart choices. David was perfect for her in so many ways. She sipped her wine with a smile to assure him she was content.

After all, the illusion was as close as some people got to the real thing.

“Excuse me a minute.” He leaned close to her ear. “Those gentlemen all contributed to my campaign fund. Give me three minutes with them, then join us.” He left before she could answer.

Iris scanned the partygoers in the crowded ballroom, but didn’t see anyone she wanted to make small talk with for three minutes. Political events made her nervous, though she did her best to hide it from David. She intended to be the model wife for him, and she’d do whatever was necessary to further his career. She sipped her Chardonnay, alone.

A tingling at her neck warned her someone had approached from behind. Warm fingers whispered up her bare spine to rest at her nape.

“One of your pins is loose.” The male voice lured her—rich, dark, and promising the same jolt as a good espresso. “Allow me.”

His fingers slid about her neck, past her ears, sending alarms from every nerve ending. Her entire body shivered with heat, a sensation beyond anything she’d experienced before. A pin slid deeper into her hair, but his touch lingered. She liked how it lingered.

Not a good sign.

Stifling the unwanted anticipation, Iris turned to thank the mystery man and send him about his business. Instead, her lower lip slackened as the party crasher withdrew his hand. At close range, his chin and cheeks were chiseled like the local mountains while his nose bent a little to the left, as if he’d broken it once. Dark hair curled slightly around his ears, and a day’s growth of beard carpeted his jaw. The smell of leather and oil and desert dust clung to him.

“Personally, I’d rather see your hair down,” he said.

“It’s an awkward length, tends to look mussed up.” Wait—had she actually responded to such a personal remark?

A slow grin crinkled his blue eyes. “I’ll bet it looks fine mussed up. I bet you do, too.”

What an absurd thing to say—even for a come-on. No good would come from that gleam in his eye, or the way his upper lip curved. “Do we know each other?”

“No need to get frosty on me,” he said, the smile unchanged. “As a matter of fact, your dad introduced us in passing about a month ago.”

Any curiosity about him ended right there. Her gaze darted toward the door. “Cosmo’s not with you, is he?”

“No, ah, I saw him earlier tonight.”

David spoke up over her shoulder. “Iris, is everything all right?”

Iris shot the crasher a glance, daring him to make this situation anything less than perfect. She smiled at David. “Everything’s fine.”

“Friend of yours?” All three tuxedo-clad businessmen had followed David over and, from the tone of his question, the chubby one was hoping for a scene.

“No—” The single word came from Iris and Cosmo’s friend at the same time.

Surprised, Iris paused. She’d rather not mention her father’s name as it tended to ruin her evenings with David. Maybe it was best if this guy explained his connection to Cosmo.

“Not a friend. I’m her cousin, Mickey, and you must be David. Oh, I’ve heard all about you.” He offered his hand.

David shook it, though he didn’t smile. Not that Iris blamed him. He’d only ever met her father, but that was enough to put David off her whole family.

“You’re a Fortune, then?” David asked.

“No, we’re related on her mom’s side. Kincaid’s the last name.”

To her astonishment, Mickey shook hands all around, as if he were one of the social elite shooting the breeze. Except, dressed in his leather and denim, he looked manlier, wilder, hotter. For God’s sake, the man was a chameleon, a con man who could probably fit in anywhere with anyone.

David’s brow wrinkled in uneasiness. “I thought your mother was Russian.”

“She was.” She raised her brows at Mickey.

He had the audacity to wink at her. “Yeah, my mom was her sister, but she ran off with an Irishman. I mean, what are you going to do?”

Before anyone could reply, he took her glass of wine and handed it to David. “Hold this, will ya, Dave? I need to talk to Iris about a little family matter. I’ll bring her back in a sec.”

“What are you doing?” Iris nearly stumbled as he pulled her away from the group.

“Enjoying a few quiet moments without his kind looking down their noses at us.” In a twinkling, he had her on the edge of the dance floor. “Dance with me.”

The orchestra was playing a Sinatra-style ballad while couples swayed in slow and sensuous rhythms. Iris balked. “Don’t you think that’s a little provocative for cousins?”

“Interesting choice of words, because you really don’t want to provoke me tonight.” Mickey hauled her against his chest and folded his arms around her. “Let Dave and his buddies make what they want out of this.”

Iris squirmed, but though his grip didn’t hurt, he also wouldn’t loosen it. Continuing to struggle would only create the dreaded scene she always hoped to avoid.

“Fine. What’s this family matter you wanted to discuss?” She followed his steps, or rather the gentle swaying of his hips.

His grip relaxed. “Your dad stiffed me tonight.”

“Stiffed you?”

“Ran off on me. We’ve been negotiating a little business, and he disappeared tonight without delivering.”

Iris closed her eyes. Cosmo and his crazy schemes. It was a miracle he stayed out of jail. “What’s he into this time? Counterfeit casino chips? He lift someone’s wallet?”

“Try ten million in jewels.”

“Ten mi—” Her eyes flew open, and she choked out a laugh. “He’s not stupid.”

“No, he’s very clever, isn’t he?” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Just like you—successful fiancé, successful business—what are you hiding?”

Ripples of electricity shot through her. She stiffened in his arms, making him back off. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“No?” He raised a skeptical brow. “Then when you talk to Cosmo, tell him his friend Mickey is waiting. I’ll try to help him.”

Iris considered him. Mickey didn’t look like the kind of guy who waited around for others. “You’ll help him?”

“Yeah.” The eye contact, the easy smile, the relaxed posture while he held her—they all added up to honesty.

She wasn’t deceived. Mickey Kincaid was good, maybe even better than Cosmo, but she sure didn’t trust him.

“Mind if I cut in?” David stood on the dance floor with two security guards. All the other couples had stopped dancing.

“Sure,” Mickey replied easily. “I’ve got to run anyway.”

“That’s probably best,” David said.

Iris looked into Mickey’s eyes. He still held her so close she could feel the heat rise off the planes of his solid chest.

“Give Uncle Cosmo my message, will ya, Rissie? And call me if you need me.”

It took a moment for her to register that he’d used Cosmo’s pet name for her. “Do I have your latest number?”

Mickey leaned down to her ear again, and this time his moist lips nibbled her earlobe.

Her brain must have shut down, because she didn’t stop him.

“You won’t need it. I’ll be watching you,” he whispered.

He released her abruptly, pulled off by the security guards. Already, they were escorting him from the ballroom, from the hotel, probably from the Strip.

“Iris, what was that all about?” Despite any irritation David might feel, he escorted her from the dance floor and handed her a fresh glass of wine.

“He was looking for Cosmo.” She sipped the chilled wine to cool herself. Damn. Chardonnay, again. Determined to salvage the evening, she smiled, back in control.

And then her cell phone chirped from within her tiny handbag.

“Now what?” Forcing a smile, David took her glass. “I ask for one night with you, and I get a circus.”

She pulled the phone from her bag and silenced the ringer. “Sorry.” Normally she’d put it on vibrate, but there was no way to wear the phone with this clingy dress.

“If it’s your father, don’t answer it.”

Puzzled by the number on the little screen, she shook her head. “It’s my security company for the shop.” She flipped the phone open and covered her other ear to block out the party noise. “Iris Fortune.”

“Ms. Fortune, this is Belinda with SecureLink Systems. We need to verify that you entered your premises after hours.”

“What happened?”

“Your pass code was entered into the security system to shut off the alarm at eleven-fifteen. The system was reset at eleven-twenty. Was that you?”

Iris blinked. The only other person who knew her pass code was Cosmo. He’d gone into her store tonight, but why? And how did Mickey fit into it all? “Yes, Belinda, that was me.”

“You know you’re supposed to call the data desk and tell them when you make an after-hours entry.”

“Yes, I’m sorry. I was in a hurry. I appreciate you following up with me.”

“Very good, Ms. Fortune. We’re here to serve you.”

“Thank you.” Great, now she was lying to her security company. Iris closed her phone, grateful David had turned away to watch the orchestra. She thought of calling Cosmo, but no, there was no point in overreacting to some stranger and his version of what Cosmo might be up to. Tomorrow would be soon enough to sort out this whole mess.

No matter how hard she tried, Cosmo always managed to ruin her evenings. Iris let out a breath and touched her hairpins until assured she had it all together.

***

It had been far too long since he’d had a woman.

Mickey noted the security uniforms around the room then shifted his stance to lean against the oversized column out of their lines of sight.

Naturally, he’d responded to the feel of Iris pulled up against him. Watching her now, that clingy white dress encouraged his imagination to take flight.

She was one stellar creature. A real class act.

And totally off-limits for more than the obvious reasons. As Cosmo’s daughter, he’d never be able to fully trust her. With that red-gold hair and those brandy-colored eyes—not to mention those great natural tits—she’d lure a man into making mistakes.

Mistakes could get a guy killed. Look what happened to Brian.

Look, don’t touch was clearly the way to proceed with Miss Fortune. Then he recalled her scent, musky and exotic with promise, as he’d tasted her ear. Definitely better not to eat, drink or breathe around her, either.

He’d have to watch her, no way around that. Who was calling her at this hour if not Cosmo? The tricky bastard must have given her the goods for safekeeping, though she acted cool as can be about it. No, it was too convenient. Cosmo had stashed a load of stolen gems, and his daughter owned an upscale jewelry store.

Had she fenced the stuff for him? Was that Cosmo’s angle? Stiff the bosses and try to sell the stones and make a real killing? He was about to learn all about killing firsthand.

Mickey flagged down a passing waiter and pressed a twenty into the guy’s hand with a few whispered directions. His gaze returned to the stoic David, lost in conversation with more tuxes. The guy was an idiot. Beside him, Iris waited, elegant and regal in her patience. A woman like her wouldn’t wait forever—not patiently, anyway. A woman like her demanded promises, grand gestures, sacrifices.

He shook off the pointless memories as the waiter approached Iris and handed her a glass of red wine. Mickey didn’t know anything about wines, but he could tell she didn’t like that white stuff. He’d asked the waiter for something big, bold and red.

Her body tensed at this unexpected gift, then her gaze followed the waiter’s hand as he gestured in Mickey’s direction.

Mickey blew her a kiss.

Stupid. But he could very well be dead before dawn, so what more could he lose?

Chapter Two

The rising August sun clearing the purple mountains already promised plenty of heat, but Robert Donovan never let a little sweat stop him from doing anything, and eighteen holes of golf wasn’t exactly a hardship. He studied this morning’s opponent. A member of his corporate board, Jack Vados wasn’t a visionary but he was astute with money and a potential future CFO.

His company, the Donovan Group, owned numerous hotels and gaming properties all over Las Vegas, though it barely had a toehold on the Strip, which was already crowded with iconic resorts. Without a household-name casino, his company was considered a minor player by the bigger corporations in the industry. But that was about to change. Donovan was poised to expand their global holdings, and the increased income would allow him to buy a true flagship property here.

On the fifth green he broached the topic. “The contracts for the Moscow purchase should be ready Monday morning. We’ll have the cash flow to minimize financing, right?”

“We can wire the cash in a heartbeat.” Vados lined up his shot. “But are you sure about this?”

Donovan bit back the sharp retort he would have issued in the boardroom. He always liked to play nice in public.

Vados putted and birdied the hole to the sound of chirping and the rustle of palm leaves in the warm dry breeze.

“Do you have a problem with this deal?”

Vados’s grin melted. “Not a problem, but it’s a risky venture. To buy all those abandoned Moscow casino properties now that Russia’s moved all the gambling outside the city doesn’t make sense to me. Are you sure you’re going to be able to get the zoning reversed?”

Donovan hated to be questioned on any day, but on a Saturday on the golf course in front of a couple of frat-boy caddies, it really pissed him off. Still, he kept his voice steady. “The closing of all those casinos works in our favor. Imagine it—we buy up those other resorts, and when the Russian government allows gaming back into Moscow, we’ll be sitting in the heart of a Las Vegas-style gambling center.”

“But who says they’re going to change the zoning?” Jack uncapped a water bottle. “I don’t think it’s wise to expand our holdings when so many things could go wrong.”

“Nothing will go wrong,” Donovan said flatly. He’d been quietly working on this deal for years—ever since the Russian government started legislating to close the Moscow casinos and gather them into four rural gambling zones. The land purchase on Monday would double the size of his Moscow casino, even if he did have to keep it closed for now. Every other gaming corporation was running gun-shy from Moscow, but not Donovan.

Not since he’d learned the Russian government wanted to purchase some special gems that had a cultural significance to their history. But the gems belonged to a rumored leader of the Russian mafia, and the government wouldn’t negotiate with him. Donovan had no such compunction, not when he saw such an opportunity. He’d bought the gems for the very reasonable investment of ten million dollars, and now all he had to do was donate them to the Ministry of Culture in Russia to receive their endless gratitude.

Oh yes, this under-the-table deal would ensure his Moscow casino would be zoned to reopen. He would be the only game in town. Literally.

His caddy held up a vibrating cell phone. “I’m sorry, Mr. Donovan. You said you wanted calls from Mr. Turner.”

Donovan took the phone and walked to the edge of the green for a little privacy. “Yes?”

“Sorry to bother you, sir.” Turner sounded hesitant.

Already he didn’t like where this call was headed. “Did you get them?”

“Kincaid picked up Cosmo last night, but no one’s seen either of them since. I still don’t have the—”

“Dammit!” Donovan yanked off his cap and craned his neck to the side until the vertebrae cracked. “Cosmo Fortune is a dead man, you understand?” he whispered vehemently into the phone.

“Yes, sir.”

“Let me know when you get word from Kincaid. If he’s screwed this up, I want him gone, too.” He didn’t wait for a reply but disconnected the call and tossed the phone back to his caddy. Replacing his cap, he stalked back to the ball and proceeded to line up his putt.

The sun on his shoulders soothed away some of the tension, and he concentrated on the ball, the hole, the ball, the hole, the ball—until his other problems faded away.

He sank his putt, keeping the score tied. “We’re moving on this deal on Monday.”

Vados laughed. “I wish I had your steel cojones, Robert. Frankly, I’d feel better if we had some sort of insurance on this deal.”

Donovan’s inner rage tasted of bile. He’d bought a goddamn insurance policy—spent ten million dollars on it—and Cosmo Fortune had run off with it.

Well, Cosmo was about to learn what George Halsted already knew—dead men couldn’t run far.

***

His coworkers might deem it an affectation, but Justin Hunter knew the herbal tea kept him calm, focused, and had already stopped his ulcers from tearing his stomach to shreds. Just because he’d topped forty didn’t mean he had to face heartburn and gastrointestinal distress. Hell, he’d had enough of that with his last partner, a man who’d finally admitted maybe he needed to see a doctor about his flatulence.

Maybe was right. Patrolling with him had meant all windows rolled down despite heat, cold, wind, dust, rain—Vegas had them all.

Justin took another sip of his mint tea, enjoying the clean, wholesome taste. So few things in this city were simple and straightforward like peppermint leaves. It almost shut out the cacophony of slot machines in the casino behind him. Almost.

He leaned against the glass doors of the jewelry shop and pondered the copper-haired beauty inside. She had a wholesome look about her, even as she pointedly ignored his presence. The tailored gray suit hugged her trim shape with clean lines while her hair was sleeked back from her face and twisted and pinned neatly at the back. One tidy little package, and he already suspected she’d be as cool and refined as the icelike gems sparkling in every glass case.

A practical, businesslike gal, his own counterpart in silk and lace, she positioned a glittering necklace on a display. He blew the steam clear of his drink, admiring her efficient precision. Lace might be too frilly for her, maybe she was more of a leather kind of person.

Man, the guys at the station were right—he needed to get out more.

Another sip of tea fortified him enough to rap on the glass, and his training helped keep the smile from his face when she glared at him. He had no trouble reading her lips as she mouthed her response.

“We open at ten.”

Cushy hours. Too bad he worked a job that stayed open twenty-four/seven. He rapped again before fishing inside his jacket for his badge while she marched toward the door.

Muffled by the glass, her words still carried to him in syllables as neatly manicured as her long pink nails.

“We don’t open until ten, can’t you read the sign?” She pointed an expressive finger—he doubted it was the one she’d really like to use—at the sign hanging near his head.

He flopped his wallet open at eye level. “Read this.”

Seeing the police badge didn’t seem to frighten her, instead she huffed and unlocked the deadbolt on the giant glass panes. “I’ve told you guys time and again I don’t buy second-hand stuff.”

“I’m sorry?” He sipped his tea before entering the shop. “You make it sound like we pop by every day.”

She relocked the door behind him and leaned against it. “Not every day, but practically. I’m not a fence, I don’t buy stolen goods, and I don’t misrepresent my work.”

He’d been wrong about her hair. The white-hot halogen lights in the store brightened it to a coppery sheen, but it was more of a bronze color, a golden red with metallic glints. Her eyes were much the same, golden brown, and flashing anger at him now.

“Before you get really worked up, I’m not here about stolen goods.” Well, not exactly. “I’m Detective Hunter, with LVMPD Homicide. Are you Iris Fortune?”

Her eyes widened, lost that spark of adversity. “Homicide? Yes, yes.”

“Is Cosmo Fortune your father?”

“Oh, God, no,” she whispered. Both hands pulled in toward her stomach as if nauseated.

While Justin empathized with her distress, he needed answers—the faster, the better. He set his tea on a display case twinkling with fiery jewels before retrieving a small notebook from his breast pocket. “Are you saying Cosmo Fortune is not your father?”

“What? No, I mean, yes, he was—is my father.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

He scribbled an unintelligible mark on his pad. He always committed these kinds of interviews to memory, but the note-taking lulled witnesses and suspects into paying less attention to him. Meanwhile, every nuance of body language verified or negated their stories.

Like now, when her one hand crept up to her breastbone. A gesture of concern, it told him she was worried about her father. Which led to a bigger question—did she know what he was up to?

“I need to find him. Do you have any idea where he is?”

She looked up. “Where he—you mean he’s not dead?”

Justin used the end of his pencil to scratch the back of his scalp. “I shouldn’t think so, unless you know something I don’t.” He shot her a polite smile. “Do you?”

“What kind of twisted game are you playing?” Her nervousness melted away and the pissy businesswoman returned in its stead. A shame, she was much more appealing when she was nervous.

“Miss Fortune, I don’t play games. I’m heading up a homicide investigation, and I need to find Cosmo Fortune. Anything you can tell me will be much appreciated.”

“Don’t you need a body for a homicide investigation?”

“I’ve got one of those. An older gentleman, about the age of your father and, oddly enough, found last night at the wheel of your dad’s car.”

“Cosmo must have loaned his car to someone.” She swallowed, then cocked a hip against a pedestal holding a glass vase. “I hate the thought of a car accident.”

“The car was parked. This accident involved bullets.”

Her posture faltered but she recovered quickly. “How horrible. The man who died—who was he?”

“We don’t have a positive ID on the victim yet. His pockets were empty.” Justin reclaimed his tea and strolled around the case to examine the jewelry pieces, allowing her time to fully collect herself. “How many people might Cosmo let borrow his car?”

She choked out what might have been a laugh. “Everybody and anybody.”

“That’s not much help.” The fact that she viewed him as a foe and not a friend all but shouted she knew more than she was telling. “Where were you last night?”

Her tongue licked across her lips again. “Me? I attended a political fundraiser with my fiancé, David Grantham.” She dropped the name like it was a Get Out of Jail Free card.

Close. Grantham had a lot of clout with the mayor’s office and city council. Didn’t hurt that he worked in the biggest law firm in town.

“That’s right, there was that big party at the Venetian last night. So, Grantham can verify you were there?”

“Verify—what, like I need an alibi? For what?”

“No offense. I’m just trying to do my job.”

“And why are you looking for Cosmo?” She strode toward the door.

Justin followed. “Your father is being sought in connection with this case. We believe he can shed some light on the situation, either as a witness or as a suspect.”

Iris Fortune drew her brows together like he’d sprouted wings and might leap into flight at any minute. “A suspect?”

“We found a body in his car, and your father’s disappeared.”

To his surprise, she laughed. “Detective, my father’s been disappearing since I was a little girl. There’s nothing sinister about that.”

Somehow, the brittle quality of her laugh told him differently.

“Believe it or not, I hear that every day.” Justin tucked the notebook away. “So many times the people who defend their loved ones have been totally fooled.”

“I know Cosmo.” Tawny eyes reflected her convictions.

“You don’t refer to him as Dad or Father.”

“If you knew him, you’d understand. He’s not exactly a father figure.”

“So, you can’t offer any insights on where he might be, or why he disappeared?”

Her tongue touched her upper lip as if she might say something, but she seemed to reconsider and shook her head instead. “Off the top of my head, no. Tell you what, give me your card, and if I think of something, I’ll call you.”

Justin knew she was lying but he wasn’t ready to say so to her face yet. He fished a card from his pocket. “I’ll tell you what, come down to the precinct at four this afternoon. We’ll have some photos we’d like you to go through, see if you recognize anyone.”

Her shoulders dropped as if he’d trapped her into a date to the prom. “I doubt I’m going to be able to tell you much of anything. I rarely hang out with Cosmo these days.”

“That’s all right. Between you and your sisters, maybe you’ll come up with something we need.”

Iris tilted her head to eye him suspiciously. “What sisters?”

“Your two stepsisters or half sisters or whatever. You know, Cosmo’s other daughters.”

Her nervousness reappeared, softening the planes of her face. Distrust—and fear—glinted in her eyes. “You’ve got it wrong, Detective. I’m an only child.”

***

Stupid ass notion to bring the rabbit home after last night.

Mickey watched Edgar flop his way toward the bowl of water on the torn linoleum. What, was he supposed to hold the animal for ransom? Place a classified in the paper? Cosmo, bring me the jewels or the bunny gets it. Like the old charlatan gave a damn about endangering others.

“Not that I’m sworn to protect you, but if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll both survive this weekend.” He finished stacking ham and swiss on a kaiser roll and took a hearty bite while the rabbit watched him, nose twitching.

“You hungry?” Hunkering down, Mickey tugged a lettuce leaf from his sandwich and held it out, knowing the rabbit hadn’t had anything to eat in over twelve hours.

Edgar blinked but didn’t approach.

Recalling how fast the animal could attack, Mickey dropped the leaf, then pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and used it to push the offering toward the rabbit.

Edgar shifted away from him.

“What? Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not going to shoot you any more than I was going to shoot Cosmo.”

His mother would faint at the thought of him killing a defenseless rabbit in his kitchen. But then, if she had any idea he’d gone undercover to capture a Las Vegas hit man, she’d swoon into a full coma. She and Dad thought their son was on loan in Chicago doing SWAT team training. Instead he was chasing a crackpot magician with more schemes than Wile E. Coyote up his ass, trying to lay hands on some jewels and flush out the man who’d hired all the hits.

He exhaled his frustration and rubbed a hand along the base of his neck where another headache was forming. Standing, he chewed another mouthful.

Edgar took two hops forward to sniff the lettuce. But instead of eating, he reared on his back feet, eyes bright. His ears rose straight up and swiveled, almost as if he were listening.

Alerted, Mickey abandoned his sandwich. Pulling the gun against his chest, he looked over his shoulder. The merest movement of a shadow outside the window made him dart for the wall beside the door. A split second later, someone kicked in the door, bursting its flimsy lock and splintering the frame. August heat wafted in along with his intruders.

Small and wiry as a weasel, Jock slunk through the bent door opening, as always leading with his gun in his outstretched hand.

Mickey took him out with a quick punch to the stomach that doubled him over, coughing.

Pebbles eclipsed the opening, filling the space with two hundred eighty pounds of brawn and fat. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but Mickey had a healthy respect for any man who could win a fight by sitting on his opponent. The bald-pated giant grinned. “Didn’t know you were home, Mickey.”

“Yeah? You come by to trash my place while you thought I was out?”

One hand still pressed to his side, Jock straightened. “We needed to check on you. You didn’t come in last night.”

Mickey heaved a sigh of unconcern and stuffed his gun back in his waistband. Jock and Pebbles made the most unlikely pair of thugs he’d ever met, but he’d learned to be wary of their methods. Bullies from the playground—maybe even infancy—they didn’t believe in rules or fair play. Nice when a couple guys could fall into a career made for them.

“I called Turner last night and told him I had Cosmo. You guys don’t need to worry about me. I know where the stones are, and I’ll have them in my hands in two days, maybe a bit less.”

“Where are they?” Jock brushed a hand down his tie, apparently feeling better enough to worry about his appearance.

“Ah ah ah, if I told you, what kind of insurance would I have that I’ll get paid for my part in all this?”

Pebbles scratched his scalp. Its bumpy surface must have led to his nickname. “Whatcha do with Cosmo?”

Mickey tilted his head toward the door and the parking lot below and lied. “He’s in the trunk of my car.”

“Dead or alive?” Jock asked with interest.

“Seeing as it topped a hundred and ten out there this afternoon, I’d say he’s definitely dead by now.” Mickey yawned. “Go look, if you want, just don’t let anyone see you. You guys want a beer?”

The partners shared a look. Jock shook his head, his eyes crinkling with respect and maybe a little macabre delight. He’d never liked Cosmo. “You’ll get rid of the body so no one finds it?”

“Trust me.” Hell, even he couldn’t find Cosmo right now.

“The dead guy in Cosmo’s car was a nice touch. When did you think of that?”

Mickey opened a cupboard to pull out a coffee can, the hairs on the back of his neck telling him that neither of his guests was making any move to approach him. At least now he knew Jock and Pebbles hadn’t planted the body he’d found in Cosmo’s car when he’d checked it again at four in the morning. “Yeah, I thought it would make it look more like Cosmo wanted to disappear, buy us some time.”

Jock chuckled. “Okay, you get points for that, but Turner is pissed you didn’t follow orders and bring him Cosmo last night.”

“It took me awhile to get the answers I needed—”

“Hey, what’s that?” Pebbles motioned with his gun toward the kitchen.

Edgar hopped from the linoleum onto the drab olive carpet and sniffed with disdain at what clearly wasn’t grass.

“It’s a bunny,” Pebbles said with the same delight he’d greet a monster truck rally.

Jock grinned with a flash of two gold teeth. “I never pegged you for an animal lover, Mickey.”

“It’s Cosmo’s rabbit from the act.”

“Looks like the little bunny’s out of a job.” Jock watched it sniff at his shoelaces, then nudged it away when it started to nibble his pant leg. Edgar hopped under the dining table and pooped.

Pebbles laughed. “Can I have him?”

For a second Mickey considered it, but these were the kind of guys who followed bugs around on a hot day with a magnifying glass just to see if they’d really explode. Even Edgar didn’t deserve that. “No, I’m trading him for the stones.”

The smell of urine wafted to him. From his hideout under the table, Edgar blinked a couple times.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Jock shook his head with a fiendish grin. “He’s pissing on your carpet.”

“Whatever.” Mickey hooked a thumb at the broken door. “Not like I’m getting my deposit back.”

He felt rather than heard Pebbles creep up behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jock nod once. And then his head exploded with pain, his knees buckled and he found himself nose down on the carpet. Pebbles had probably done a stint on WrestleMania when he was younger—he sure knew which vertebrae to press with his knee to keep a guy lying flat.

Jock’s shoes approached, stopping inches from his nose. “You’ve got ’til tomorrow night to bring the jewels, or you’ll be the one stuffed in a trunk. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Come on, Pebbles.”

The big guy didn’t budge. “Say uncle.”

Mickey could barely breathe as the giant added more pressure, forcing what little air was left from his lungs. “Fuck you,” he managed.

“Pebbles! Come on,” Jock ordered.

The weight lifted from his back, but then the gun slammed into his skull a second time, and by the time Mickey’s head cleared, his two assailants had left. Slowly, he rolled onto his back, checking to be sure his spine was still connected. His head pounded.

“I really need to find another line of work.”

A shuffling sound approached him followed by a gentle nuzzling in his hair. Great, Edgar had come to check on him.

“See what you’ve gotten us into?”

The rabbit hobbled around his head, sniffing and exploring, while Mickey stared at the water-stained ceiling and planned his next move. A mistake to have suggested the rabbit was a key to the jewels. But then, maybe the rabbit could help him buy some time.

“Edgar, you and I need to have another little talk with your aunt Iris.”

***

Releasing a frustrated huff, Iris pushed her work lamp out of the way and climbed off her stool. Her fingers ached as she slid the magnifying goggles from her face and blinked a few times to bring her vision back to real-world size. Wow, she’d been at it for over an hour. Usually focusing her energy on her work relaxed her, took her to another place. Today was a lost cause—this latest Cosmo crisis was a nightmare.

Worst of all, she couldn’t reach him. Cosmo always answered his calls or returned them as soon as possible. She’d left a message last night when she got home and another this morning after that detective had left the store.

“Iris, telephone!” Ginny, her perpetually cute assistant, stuck her head in the doorway of the store’s design studio. Seeing Iris free, she brought the cordless phone, her hand over the mouthpiece. “Someone named Mickey, and he sounds positively sinful.”

“Give me that.”

Ginny handed over the phone and waited until Iris pointed her to the door. With a laugh like some invisible fairy tickled her, she shot back out to the sales floor.

Iris waited until she was sure she was alone. Not that she had anything to hide. “Iris Fortune.”

“I hear the police visited you this morning. Guess your dad’s really MIA, huh?”

Her heart fluttered at the rich timbre of his voice. “What do you want?”

“What did he say when he called you last night?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb. Cosmo called you on your cell at the party last night.”

She recalled the glass of red wine and Mickey’s intense dark eyes watching her from the shadows. Squaring her shoulders, she perched on her stool. “You were spying on me.”

He laughed. “Don’t sound so outraged. Every guy in town would be spying on you if he had the chance. Now, what did he tell you?”

“He didn’t call, and I have no idea where he is. And if you keep harassing me, I’m going to tell the police about our little conversation last night.”

“No chance. If you were going to spill it about me, you would have done it already.” He sounded too cocksure of himself for her taste.

“How do you know I haven’t?”

“You wouldn’t be threatening to if you’d already done it.”

She pursed her lips, but said nothing.

“And you won’t give me up because—” Mickey’s voice dropped low. “Because, Iris Fortune, deep down, you’re worried about your dad. He may not be much, but he’s all the family you’ve got. You want him back, but you’re afraid he’s gotten himself into something so bad, the police won’t help him. You’re already thinking you might need ol’ Mickey here to help you out.”

“I am not.”

“No? Then think about it some more. I’ll look in on you later.”

“Later? Like tonight? I don’t know where I’ll be.” Recognizing the quickening of her pulse, Iris aligned her design tools into a neat row on the worktable.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll find you.” The phone clicked and went dead.

“Damn.” Iris set the phone down with more force than she intended. She wasn’t sure whether her frustration stemmed from his threat to ruin her evening again or that he’d ended their conversation so abruptly. Neither reason was a good sign.

“Everything all right?” Ginny grinned at her from the doorway.

“Everything’s fine.”

“Oh, cuz, you know, he had a sexy voice, and now you’re agitated, and it sounds like maybe you’re seeing him later—”

The problem with having a psych major as a sales assistant was that Iris got free analysis when she least wanted it. “It’s not what you think. He’s…my cousin.” Great, another lie. First her security company, now her staff.

Ginny smirked. “Nice try. Cousins are never that sexy.”

On any other day, Ginny’s teasing would be sweet. Today, it grated on every one of Iris’s exposed nerves. “Maybe it’s best if you pay more attention to the store and less to my personal life.”

Ginny’s smile disintegrated. “Sorry, Iris, you’re right. It’s not my place. It’s just you’ve got this fairy-tale image of your life, and I’d hate to see you disappointed.” Before Iris could reply, the co-ed slipped out the door again.

Fairy-tale image of her life? She almost called the younger woman back to set her straight. Iris held no illusions of what her life was, though she did her best to pass it off as normal. What was so wrong about that?

She stood to stretch her shoulders and back, but the uncomfortable feeling dogging her was less physical and more a general uneasiness. Here she thought she’d conquered that when she declared her independence from Cosmo. Except there was no escaping her father’s shenanigans, no matter how hard she tried.

Her gaze roamed the workroom. She’d come in early to check every drawer, every case in the whole store. Nothing was missing. Why had Cosmo come here last night? The cash was all accounted for and every bit of metal and stone waited precisely where she’d left it. Had he needed a place to hide? Had he done something awful? Could that detective be right—had Cosmo killed someone last night?

No, she wouldn’t believe it. Cosmo might have been a disappointing father, but he wasn’t a killer. A double-talking, double-crossing man of tricks and schemes, Cosmo always played his greatest advantage—he believed both sides of any story, so you could never convince him he wasn’t telling the truth no matter what he said. He was like a little kid, completely disingenuous. Iris had always suspected that’s what her mother loved about him.

But the same little-kid lack of responsibility made it all the more probable that Cosmo had fathered other children without guilt. Iris had no doubts that if her mother had discovered his infidelity, Cosmo would have talked his way back into her good graces again. He lived his life like an alley cat anyway, disappearing for long periods—traveling with the magic act, so he claimed—and Mom had let him come and go without question.

Iris had left her own questions unasked, though she’d had plenty of them. By the time she was thirteen, it was obvious her father had more important things in his life than her and her mother. Iris had always steered clear of his magic act, his gambling friends, anything she felt might be competing with her for his attention. Instead, she spent her time with her mother at this shop, learning the art of crafting high-end costume jewelry. While Iris didn’t deal in diamonds, emeralds or rubies, her pieces sold for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars.

And it was hers. When Mom died, Iris had inherited Lying Eyes. Cosmo had no claim on the store, the jewelry, or on her anymore. So what did it matter if he’d fathered two other girls?

It didn’t matter at all.

Chapter Three

“Miss Fortune, the casino manager wants to speak with you.”

Corazon had never cared for the voice of authority, maybe because it had never spoken in her favor. Or maybe it was the way the pit boss, Mr. Shank, always leered at her when he addressed her by her formal name. Like it or not, one always responded to orders.

She knocked the three card poker table twice then spread her fingers wide, palms up, for the security camera before giving way to the replacement dealer. Once clear of the tables, she tried to smooth her heavy curls back from her face. She shouldn’t have had that gyro for lunch. Her mints were in her locker, but Mr. Shank didn’t look like he’d let her make a pit stop.

He escorted her off the casino floor, down a fluorescent-lit employee hallway to the management offices. She shouldn’t feel nervous—she’d done nothing wrong. In fact, maybe she was worrying for nothing. Maybe she was finally up for a promotion. She’d dreamed of becoming Shank’s equal since she first came to the Venetian a year and a half ago.

But one step inside Mr. Leighton’s office put an end to all those dreams of advancement.

“Here’s Cory,” Mr. Leighton said with a smile that even she could tell was pasted on his face. He motioned to another suited man, mature, earnest looking—a plainclothes cop, as clear as day. “Cory, this is Detective Hunter with the LVMPD. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”

She nodded, wondering what the hell she’d done wrong. To her surprise, Mr. Leighton shepherded Shank from the office, leaving her alone with Hunter.

He stood taller than her, with a lean build for a man of…she guessed him at forty years. Lines crinkled the edges of his eyes and lips, and furrows seemed to be permanently creased in his forehead. He didn’t look like a sun-worshipper, so she figured him for a worrier. His hairline had made a small retreat, but there was still plenty of it, dark and curling slightly at the ends. His clean-shaven jaw had a nice angle to it, his nose a little oversized, and his green eyes were tinged with sorrow, as though he’d witnessed way too much tragedy in his job.

It occurred to her that if she’d committed some work-related offense, the Nevada Gaming Control Board would be here, not the local police. And they wouldn’t have the look of apology this guy had on his face. Perspiration tickled her upper lip, but she refrained from swiping at it, just as she bit back the concerned questions that flooded her mind.

The detective motioned to a chair and popped a Tums while she seated herself. “Miss Fortune, I need to ask you some questions about your father.”

“Papa?” She gripped the arm of the chair and turned to look at Hunter. “Is he all right?”

“He’s missing. When did you see him last?”

She answered without hesitation. “Two days ago. We had breakfast here at the buffet after I got off work.”

“What time was that?” He pulled a notepad from his inner jacket pocket and started to scribble notes.

“About six in the morning. He’d just flown back from St. Petersburg the night before.”

“Russia?”

Cory blinked at such a ridiculous notion. “No, Florida. He’s been working on some gig with the Ringling Circus Museum in Sarasota. What do you mean he’s missing?”

“What kind of work?” Hunter asked, staring intently at her. Whether he didn’t understand or didn’t believe her, she wasn’t sure.

She didn’t like that he’d avoided her question. “I don’t know, something to do with his magic act.”

He glanced up. “You sound like you don’t approve.”

Cory hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t approve, she just didn’t understand Papa’s passion for magic. “All the years I was growing up, Papa traveled a lot. I guess I blamed it on his magic act.”

He seemed to accept that without needing further explanation. “We found a man shot dead in your father’s car last night. Do you know anything about that?”

She stumbled to her feet. “Papa wouldn’t kill someone, not anyone. He’s not that kind of man.”

“What kind of man is he?” Hunter asked quietly.

“Papa’s the most honest, God-fearing man I know. He cares about people, always wants to help. He could no more kill a man than he would lie, cheat or steal.” People could say what they wanted about her, but she wasn’t about to sit idly by while someone, even a cop, slandered her father.

The detective blinked at her. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone after his show last night? Any friends, any women he might have gone to see?”

Women? Oh, God… She shook her head, worry pulling her lips into a frown even as she gnawed on a red thumbnail. “No, unless…”

“Unless?”

“Did you look for him downtown around Fremont Street?”

Hunter shook his head while he scribbled a note. “Why there?”

“That’s where Papa started his magic career. He’s still got some old friends who work the casinos there. Sometimes they get up a game.”

“If you want us to find and help your father—”

“Help him?”

He shifted his feet. “It’s possible someone might want to kill him, so don’t be vague.”

“I—I didn’t mean—” Color warmed her face. “Papa likes to play cards, but the hotels down here on the Strip won’t take his bets.”

“Why not, does he cheat?”

She lifted her chin. “He could, but he doesn’t. Like me, he has a sense of honor. He wins and loses fairly. Up at the Golden Gate some men know him, and they’ll sit down to play, sometimes all night.”

“We’ll look into that.” Pocketing his notepad, he rose. “I’ll let you get back to work, but I need for you to come to the precinct at four this afternoon. I’ll clear it with Mr. Leighton.”

“What do you need me for?”

He loosened his tie, and she watched color creep up his neck to his face. He cleared his throat. “Did your father ever mention that you have sisters?”

She wasn’t sure which she hated more—the conviction in his voice that he spoke the truth or the compassionate look in his eyes that told her he was sorry.

***

Cosmo had always subscribed to the theory that the best place to hide something was in plain sight.

He fearlessly entered the Venetian’s casino, where frigid air conditioning raised gooseflesh on his bare arms and legs. The chino shorts, tennis shoes and Future Jackpot Winner T-shirt shouted “tourist” almost as loudly as the slimy, pungent sunscreen and the camera dangling around his neck. He’d worked for hours on his makeup—the larger nose, bushy eyebrows and the fake moustache to go with his goatee. Disguised as a retired businessman ready to take Vegas by storm, Cosmo prided himself that no one would recognize him.

Not even his own daughter.

Cosmo skirted the craps tables, ignoring the call in his blood to let fly the dice. He had more important matters to attend to today. Hopefully, his Cory would be open-minded.

He spied her, sharp and professional in her dealer’s uniform. Her one rebellion was all that curly dark hair, which made male heads turn to watch her wherever she went. She remained oblivious to the ripple of interest that trailed her as she walked along with a suited fellow. Even from here, Cosmo recognized the cop. At least Hunter was treating Cory with deference as he handed her a business card. They’d probably been discussing Cosmo’s disappearance.

How much did they know?

Hunter departed with a nod and long strides that made it hard, but not impossible, to see his frown. Cosmo’s gaze darted back to Cory. She looked up from the business card, her eyes glittering with moisture, her jaw set in uncompromising anger.

Shit. She knew. They’d told his daughters about him. About each other.

Though he’d known this day was a possibility, Cosmo had steadfastly betted against it. He could have prevented all of this—not gotten involved with an international con game, not made that fateful call to the authorities after that Russian translator turned up dead—but he’d wanted Iris to claim her heritage. His plan would have worked, too, if not for Mickey’s interference. That boy was going to get them both killed if he weren’t careful.

Cosmo’s hand touched his hair before he remembered not to mess with the neatly combed perfection. No disguise would prevent Cory from recognizing his wild hair. He dug into his shorts pocket for a mint while he watched her replace a dealer at an empty three card poker table. Excellent.

He sidled up to an empty chair, pretending to read the explanation signs on the table. For good measure, he dropped his wallet on the floor. Nothing like making a complete goober of himself for the surveillance cameras.

“I’ve never played this game before,” he said in a fake drawl. “We don’t have gambling in South Carolina. Is this game easy?”

His question shook her from her reverie. Cory blinked away her unshed tears and focused on him with a smile. “It’s easy to learn, but not always easy to win. Would you like to try?”

He pulled out the high seat and perched on it. “If you’ll teach me, missy.” He winked at her and watched her smile tighten as if to put distance between them. That was Cory, never saw her own beauty, always toed the company line, always held men at arm’s length.

Maybe it was time his daughters met. Cory could learn a lot from both her sisters, the kind of stuff her old man couldn’t teach her.

“Would you like to buy some chips?”

“Sure. Give me two hundred worth.” He tried to hand her two crisp bills.

She tapped the table. “Lay them here for me, please.” She quickly counted out two stacks of chips and traded them for his bills, which she stuffed into a slot in the table.

Cosmo listened while she explained the game, his head tilted slightly as if he heard better out of one ear. He kept his eyes trained on her, but he listened to all the ambient sounds of the casino, keenly aware that an unexpected surprise could walk up behind him at any moment.

“Okay, then, missy,” he drawled when she’d finished. He laid two chips on the table. “There’s my ten-dollar bet. Let’s see a hand.”

His pair of deuces beat her king-high hand, and he doubled his money. He let out an uncharacteristic guffaw. Hell, he was starting to hate this character he’d created. But he remained at the table, despite the risks, even ordering a Blue Hawaiian from the cocktail waitress. He needed to get a message to Iris, and he needed Cory to deliver it.

“Well, lookee here, just who we wanted to see.”

Three cowboys strode up to the table and laid their money down. One pushed his hat back and grinned widely at Cory. “Set us up, darlin’, I’m in a winning mood.”

Cosmo sipped from his blue drink while the cowboys arranged themselves and got chips. A few extra bodies at the table, especially young men intent on gaining Cory’s attention, would work in his favor. Already he could see her erecting that cool façade of hers.

It took three hands, but finally he was ready. Cory turned over three jacks in her dealer’s hand. The cowboys all groaned, and she smiled. “Sorry, gentlemen. Three of a kind is pretty rare in this game. Better luck on the next hand.” She collected their bets, one by one, until she got to Cosmo. “How about you?”

“I think I may be one step ahead of you,” he said.

With a look of puzzlement, she flipped over his cards. Three queens. The cowboys whooped at his success.

“Three little ladies, don’t that just beat all!”

“That bonus bet is going to pay off big.”

“Way to go, Gramps! Now maybe all our luck will change.”

Still celebrating, they flagged down the waitress to order a round of drinks.

Cory said nothing, but recognition lit her eyes for a moment before she blinked and returned to her professional demeanor. He knew she’d make the connection.

“I think maybe I’ll call it quits here,” Cosmo said quietly.

Cory fanned his cards on the table for the camera then started to collect chips for his payout. She didn’t make eye contact with him, and she kept her head averted from the camera so no one could read her lips. “Quitting for good, or just for the day?”

“For good. When fortune deals you three lovely queens, you’ve got to think about them and do what’s right.”

“So, good fortune is what you’d call this?”

“That and talent.” He grinned at her then glanced at the cowboys to make sure they were still occupied. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to lose these chips before I cash out today.” He’d always encouraged Cory to uphold a high standard for honesty, and he’d hate for her to think he’d cheated for the money.

“See that you do,” Cory whispered, then called out for the pit boss. “Bonus payout!” She stared at the three queens on the table. Moisture rimmed her eyes.

Cosmo forced himself not to reach out to her. He only had a minute more to help her understand. “A hand like that is a treasure,” he said. “A queen is always a good strong card in any hand, but three of them together like that? They’re practically unbeatable.”

Cory stared at him. “I don’t know. I imagine queens could get kind of jealous of one another. After all, there can only be one queen of any country.”

“Now there’s where you’re wrong. Each of these queens is queen of her own world. See? Hearts, diamonds, and spades. All equal in value, and I love all three of them.”

“And if I were one of those queens, which would I be?” she asked softly.

“The queen of spades. You have the power to bury me, as well as the power to dig me out.”

“And what of the other two?” Her voice was small, like a tiny child.

It about broke Cosmo’s heart. He’d only wanted the best for his girls. Had he failed them all? His index finger tapped one card, then the other. “The queen of hearts has blond hair and a heart of gold, and the queen of diamonds is the keeper of the gems.”

Her gaze dropped to the cards then lifted to meet his again before she nodded. The pit boss arrived and approved her payout while the cowboys clapped Cosmo on the back.

“I’m going to call it a day.” Cosmo separated a healthy portion of chips and pushed them back toward Cory. “A tip for the lovely lady.”

“Thank you, sir. Will I see you again?”

“Not soon. I’ve got to finish up one more project before my retirement officially begins.” With a wave, he turned and headed toward the slot machines. Only when he reached the first row did he dare to turn back for a quick look at his daughter.

She’d returned to the game, every inch the consummate professional he’d taught her to be. No matter how much inner turmoil, Cory had learned young to stay focused on the cards and the routine. She was schooled and disciplined.

And there would be hell to pay when he faced her again and had to really explain the past thirty years of his life.

***

Justin didn’t get to meet the youngest of the three sisters until she arrived at the police station that afternoon. Opening the door to the small interrogation cubicle, he spied her sitting in one of the two chairs, head bent, contemplating the floor. She didn’t seem to hear him, so he cleared his throat. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Fortune. I’m Detective Hunter.”

She lifted her head and swiveled her body in the chair to gaze his way, striking him momentarily senseless with an ethereal beauty, golden hair, creamy skin and the biggest damn eyes he’d seen this side of the barn owl who’d roosted outside his bedroom window when he was a kid. Unlike her neat and tidy sister Iris, this girl had the look of someone dying to be rescued.

Her gaze shifted up to the ceiling. “There’s a female named Darby on your bomb squad here who should be given a leave of absence. She’s pregnant.”

“Excuse me?” He stepped forward and cautiously closed the door. Perhaps she didn’t need rescuing as much as she needed to be locked in a padded cell.

She shook her head slightly until the mesmerized glint in her eyes disappeared. “Sorry, it was just something I picked up. I should know better than to blurt out my discoveries to strangers.” She uncrossed her legs and stood to offer her hand, surprising him with her height, which almost matched his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective. Is there any sign of my father?”

“Not specifically.” Her palm felt smooth but firm in his clasp, and he noted muscle and sinew wound up her shapely arms. And those legs of hers—even in a city renowned for showgirls, she had striking legs. Not a powder-puff fairy queen, no, this girl had the strength of a professional gymnast. He’d have to remember that. “Look, Alberta—may I call you that?”

An abbreviated laugh escaped her pink-tinted lips. “Heavens, no one calls me Alberta, not even Daddy. Call me Allie.”

He nodded an acknowledgement even as he motioned her to reseat herself. “Family name?” Were those legs of hers from her family? Certainly Cosmo Fortune’s pictures didn’t look like he’d ever exhibited any physical prowess.

“Alberta? No, I’m named after Einstein. Daddy was always fascinated with his theories of relativity. You know, time not being linear, alternate realities, that kind of thing.”

That made some sense, although Justin would have pegged Cosmo’s interest more in copying Einstein’s wild hair.

“I appreciate you coming down here. We’re trying to gather all the information we can to help us track down your father.”

“Thank you. I know you’ll do your best.”

He looked up at the simple sincerity of her words, a refreshing reaction after meeting her sisters’ defensiveness. Of course, he reminded himself she was under stress and willing to believe the absolute best in anyone, even a complete stranger such as himself. Besides, he had a badge. Pulling out the other chair at the table, he prepared himself for polite interrogation. He certainly didn’t want to tip his hand just yet.

“You live here in Vegas?”

“Yes.” She watched him jot the address down as she recited it, a nice little subdivision a few miles from the Strip.

“You rent there?”

“No.” Her nose wrinkled as if she might sneeze. “My mom left it to me. It’s paid off.”

Justin tapped his pen against the pad a couple of times, then connected the dots in a neat square. “Your mom has passed away then.”

“From a stroke when I was a toddler. Daddy was a rock, and my aunt Erna helped out when he couldn’t be there.” Her lids flickered shut then reopened, again revealing large eyes that seemed to see into his soul. They were a paler shade of color than Iris’s, like topazes, with a soft angelic glow to the golden tints.

“Do you have any brothers and sisters?” he asked.

“I wish. But Daddy always said siblings just weren’t in the cards for me.”

He nodded, thinking that Cosmo was a cad for lying to his daughters. “And what do you do for a living, Allie?”

“I’m a stagehand over at MGM, but I eventually plan to become a veterinarian.”

“Those must be two different worlds.” He smiled and was surprised to feel a physical response when she smiled back. Whoa, Nellie. He had no business conjuring up images of that smile or those legs in a skimpy little stage costume. Or wiggling out of it.

He drew another square on the notepad. “Did you learn about theater from your father?”

“Daddy taught me a number of tricks of the trade. I used to help him in his act, but about three months ago he got me this other job. Told me it was time for me to move on and stop working for a hack like him.”

Justin’s brows knit at her words. Was it possible Cosmo had foreseen some kind of danger to his daughter if she were close by his side? “I guess our parents always want to push us out of the nest,” he said as he scribbled more notes.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d gained enough factual information to give him some insight to Alberta Fortune. She was young, beautiful, highly intelligent and just a little quirky. She didn’t strike him as someone who would keep secrets, but she did seem highly protective. On a hunch, Justin decided not to mention her sisters. He’d watch to see how she reacted upon meeting them.

Allie closed her eyes for a few moments, her brow furrowed. When she reopened them, she stared at the ceiling with a beatific smile on her face. “There will be five babies.”

A chill ran up Justin’s spine. That quirky thing about her could be a dangerously unknown factor. “Five babies?”

She started, as if she’d forgotten his presence. “Oh, sorry. Just a vision, still a little foggy, but I’m pretty sure five is right.”

“This isn’t the lady on the bomb squad—”

“I’m pretty sure it is. I can’t tell until I see her face to face.”

“Uh huh.” What else was he supposed to say? “Come with me. There are two women I’d like you to meet.”

***

Iris stood aside while a police officer who’d introduced herself as Linda opened yet another door. Just being inside the police station gave Iris the creeps—all the locked doors, all the damaged lives, the struggle to provide order and safety in a chaotic and dangerous world.

Linda turned with a smile, perfectly at home in this setting. “You can wait in here. No one will bother you.”

Far from consoled, Iris stepped into the room and folded her arms. Recognizing the movement as a defense mechanism, she made herself uncross them and smoothed back a loose curl. Damn, her pins weren’t holding the French knot in place.

“Can I get you anything?” Linda’s hands rested on her weapon-laden belt.

God, what Iris wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now. Funny, since she hadn’t smoked since college. Smoking was one more dangerous habit she’d stamped out of her life. She’d conquered all of them—sweets, smoking, alcohol, that brief interlude with the sexy philosophy professor, who insisted she try horticulture to expand her horizons and the ensuing nightmare of explaining to the authorities she really didn’t have a clue it was marijuana.

No, she’d wrestled control of her life, and she wasn’t ever giving that up again.

“Thanks, I’m fine.” Iris felt she’d not only answered Linda’s question, she’d proclaimed her motto in life. She was fine. She didn’t need any help from anyone.

“Suit yourself. The others will be here in a minute.” Linda closed the door with a tactful click.

The others. Her stomach tugged into a tight knot as she looked into the large mirror that formed part of one of the white walls. Dissatisfied with her reflection, she turned her back and leaned against the mirror. Surely Justin Hunter had it wrong. It was ludicrous to think she had not one but two half sisters living in Las Vegas. Sisters she’d never dreamed existed.

No, Cosmo couldn’t have pulled that off. Even a master of illusion would have found it impossible to hide three sisters from each other for over twenty-five years.

But then she recalled the business trips he’d take every few weeks when she was little, and later, the lengthy disappearing acts, when neither she nor her mom had a clue where he’d gone.

It amazed her that her level-headed mom never divorced him, a tribute to Cosmo’s devilish charm. That, Iris had learned, was the real danger—allowing a man to wriggle so completely into your life, to give way and fall in love with a blindness that defied reason. Her mom had made that mistake, and while she might have been wildly happy sometimes, she was also miserable other times, the pendulum swinging in unsteady arcs.

Following her mom’s death nearly eight years ago, Iris had looked at her father not with the eyes of a daughter, but from the mature perspective of her then-twenty years. She still saw the charm, faded now to a devilish twinkling in his eye, but she wasn’t fooled by it anymore. Cosmo did what he wanted to do, a selfish, self-promoting con man always out to make a buck and impress the world.

It would be just like him to have harbored two other families and divided himself among them. Resentment simmered within her, but she tempered it with the knowledge that she’d always expected something like this from her father. Still, expecting it and living it were two different things.

The door opened without a warning knock, and a male uniformed officer ushered in a younger woman—tall, lithe, blonde, striking in an angelic way—the polar opposite to Cosmo’s short, stocky build. Maybe Justin Hunter had been pulling her leg.

The young woman’s gaze roved around the small room and settled on her. Coming forward, the woman smiled nervously. “I suppose it’s all right for us to talk while we wait. I’m Allie Fortune.”

Momentarily stunned by the familiar golden eyes, eyes that looked exactly like her father’s, Iris could do nothing but swallow. “I’m Iris,” she finally managed to say.

Allie paced the small room, giving wide berth to Iris’s corner. “This is so nerve-wracking. Almost makes me wish I smoked or something, you know?”

“Yes.”

“My daddy disappeared last night, and I’m supposed to review some photos.” She drew to a halt, her short skirt swishing across her long legs. “Why are you here?”

Iris leaned against the two-way glass. “Same exact reason.”

“Really?” The incredulity in Allie’s voice might have been comic except it seemed sincere. “How weird is that?”

“Plenty weird.” Her fingers itched to wring Hunter’s neck.

Perfect timing. Hunter opened the door to usher in another young woman—this one about Iris’s size but with olive skin, yards of black curls and a mutinous expression that immediately raised Iris’s sympathy.

His gaze swept over all three of the women. Iris knew the look—he was appraising them, measuring their value independently and collectively. The same type of look a buyer gave cases of jewelry at her shop.

Loosening his tie, he made a quick introduction. “Corazon, this is Allie and Iris.”

The brunette nodded but made no effort to smile or shake hands. She withdrew to the farthest corner of the room.

Still leaning against the mirror, Iris aimed her question straight at the detective who’d screwed up her day. “Do they know?”

Before he could respond, Corazon interrupted. “He’s told me his theories, but I think he’s mistaken.”

Allie looked from person to person. “What are you talking about?”

Iris felt a pang of empathy for the girl.

“Do you want to tell her, or should I?” Justin asked.

“It’s your party,” Iris said.

“All right, then, ladies, let me make full introductions. Iris Fortune, meet Alberta Fortune and Corazon Fortune. Your father Cosmo was married to all three of your mothers.”

Corazon shook her head vehemently, her curls tossing in the darkened corner. “I still say it’s impossible. Look how close we are in age—how could he do such a thing?”

Amazed that anyone who knew Cosmo could defend him, Iris laughed out loud. “Easy. It’s called bigamy.”

Chapter Four

Corazon stared at her, and Iris felt the prick of daggers tipped with bitterness and anger.

“Oh.” Little more than a soft gasp, the single syllable pulled her attention to Allie, whose eyes were brimming with moisture. “Then we’re sisters. I have sisters.” The blonde grinned.

Sisters. Iris shared a common bond with these two women. They’d all been betrayed by Cosmo. Peachy.

“I still say it’s a mistake,” Corazon told the detective. “These are lies to get us to reveal information to you.”

“Information about what? About your father’s dealings?” Justin asked, suddenly alert.

“Dealings?” Allie’s nose scrunched up as cute as a bunny’s. “He was a magician.”

“And a gambler, a cardsharp, a con man, a liar—” Iris ticked them off with her fingers. “And apparently, a womanizer.”

Corazon’s eyes flared with heat. “My father was no liar or cheat.”

“Really?” Iris raised an eyebrow, feeling more righteous than intimidated by the brunette. “Maybe you’re lucky—maybe your mother cheated on Cosmo.”

The brunette’s olive skin paled. “Leave my mother out of this. The love they had was real, not some cheap imitation.”

Before Iris could spit out her comeback, a shrill whistle cut through the room. She winced and looked to Hunter, but he stood with his hands over his ears.

To her surprise, the delicate Allie lowered her fingers from her lips. “Sorry about that, but throwing insults won’t get us anywhere. It’s pretty obvious both of you were happy being an only child.” The blonde gave a heartbreaking smile. “But I love knowing I have sisters. I hope we’ll get to know each other, but for now, we should focus on Daddy.”

“Daddy?” Corazon’s incredulous tone nearly made Iris laugh. This whole situation was absurd.

“Daddy doesn’t need any help from anyone,” Iris said flatly.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Hunter scratch his ear, a wry grin twisting his lips. “I’m not so sure of that,” he said. “We think Cosmo got involved in some kind of deal—something shady—and now someone’s out to kill him. He may be running scared.”

A tremor coursed up Iris’s spine as she remembered the sexy con man who’d whispered about ten million in gems. Then there’d been the call from her security company. But if Cosmo had been in serious trouble, surely he would have left her a message? He’d known he could count on her, right?

She remained mute, unwilling to share her suspicions. Noticing Corazon’s lips pressed together in a stubborn line, Iris wondered whether the brunette was also holding her cards closely to her vest.

Apparently, secrets were a Fortune family trademark.

“I’m sorry this has come as a shock to all of you, but we sincerely want to help your father.” Hunter retrieved a stack of papers from the small table near the door and handed a packet to each of the women. “These are some highlights from the background check we did on Cosmo. It’s how we traced the three of you. It would help us if you’d each review this and see if there are any pertinent details we’ve missed, anything at all that might give us a clue as to where he could be hiding.”

Silence hung about the room as they all looked at each other until, finally, Hunter chuckled sheepishly. “Look, I can’t force information out of you. I’m just asking. I’ll step out of the room for a few minutes, give you ladies a chance to talk in private.”

“Like you won’t be listening at the keyhole?” Corazon’s head tilted, weighted down by sarcasm. Against her will, Iris found herself rooting for the brunette.

“I won’t need to.” Justin backed up and opened the door. “We’re recording everything you say.” He stepped out, and the door snapped shut behind him.

If anything, the tension in the room increased. Apparently, silence could be measured in decibel levels. Right now, it was deafening.

“This is a travesty,” Iris said.

“A curse,” Corazon muttered.

Allie continued smiling. “It’s a blessing, and one day, you’ll both see it.” Without another word, the blonde began to peruse the pages in her hand.

God forbid. Iris looked to Corazon, and discovered she was also reading. Despite the needles of fear pricking her, Iris focused on the document. What could be more shocking than learning Cosmo had two other daughters?

Well, learning that Cosmo had been married to Allie’s mother for fourteen years before he married Irina Nikolaevsky. Or that Iris had been born a scant six months following her parents’ marriage. Even though she was older than Corazon by two years and Allie by five, she had to wonder what Cosmo’s life had been like all those years before he married her mother.

Biting her lip, Iris folded the document in half and pulled her car keys from her purse. “I need to get back to my shop.” The urge to flee nearly swamped her.

“But we need to talk.” Allie stepped toward her then paused as if she feared Iris would bolt. “Between us, we may have the answers to finding Daddy.”

That term of endearment wedged a spike between Iris’s ribs, straight at the heart. He’d been her daddy, once, long ago. Before she’d lost faith in him, and maybe in herself.

Iris tugged on the doorknob. “Let’s get this straight. I’ve been trying to rid my life of Cosmo for nearly ten years now. I don’t see any reason to help find him.”

Finding him wouldn’t make anything better. Only worse.

***

McCarran Airport wasn’t the only spot in Vegas that still had pay phones, Cosmo knew. But if he gave the police enough time to trace a call, he might be able to convince them he’d split town.

He slid the Alaska Airways ticket inside his jacket and retrieved the leather briefcase from the conveyor belt. Security hadn’t questioned his identity at all. He’d have to compliment Viktor on the quality of the fake ID. Assuming he still didn’t get caught.

Nudging his way through the crowded gate area, he finally reached a bank of five pay phones. Each offered a tiny seat and practically no privacy. Cosmo set the briefcase down and straightened his cuffs. Now the polished professional, complete from pomaded hair to wingtips, he doubted anyone would be interested in listening to him.

His first call was long past due, and he kept his message brief. “If you receive word of my death, it’s a bit premature.”

He thought about calling his daughters, but decided Cory would get them word he was safe. For now. Squaring his shoulders, he dialed an international call.

“Cosmo? What is happening?” As always, Marko’s accent was heavy and guttural. It was pre-dawn in St. Petersburg, but he’d answered on the first ring.

“Nothing to worry about.” Mostly. “I may be out of touch for a few days, but I’m home in Las Vegas.”

“Aunt Tatiana was furious to find you’d left the country with those gemstones,” Marko said. “You know they’re an heirloom. If you lose them, she will hunt you down and kill you.”

“That seems to be a recurring theme these days.” In the periphery of his vision, Cosmo caught sight of two police officers. His eyes followed their progress down the terminal without him ever turning his head. “I only need the stones for a few days. I’ll check in again then and make arrangements to return the, er, merchandise to its rightful owner.”

“See that you do. And Cosmo? Call if you need help.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t want to involve you.”

“Nonsense. You are, how you say—family.” Marko’s tone was decidedly gruff.

Damn, Cosmo had always doubted the bastard really cared. He hung up and dialed his last call. Three digits.

“Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

“I want to speak to Detective Justin Hunter of the LVMPD.”

“Sir, this number is for emergencies only.”

“Ma’am, I’m a fugitive wanted in connection with a homicide. If it makes you feel better, someone is trying to kill me, but let me speak to Hunter.”

“Please hold, sir.”

Already they were recording the conversation and tracing his phone number for location.

“Cosmo? Where are you?” Hunter panted into the phone, as if he’d run to get the call. Good.

“You already know I’m at McCarran.”

“Don’t try to leave town—”

“I’ll do what I have to do to save my hide. You wanted an insider, you got your information, now I want you to repeal the APB.”

“It’s for your own safety, Cosmo. We just wanted to question you, we know you didn’t kill the guy in your car.”

Cosmo felt a pang. He was up against some serious people, people who treated others’ lives as one more marketable commodity. “Was it anyone I knew?” he asked.

“You tell me. We identified him as George Halsted.”

“Poor bastard.” Halsted had flown to Russia with him. He was the jeweler who’d verified the authenticity of the gems they’d purchased. Cosmo had tried to warn George that certain death awaited them when they returned to Vegas, but George wouldn’t listen. Donovan’s hired gun had killed the jeweler and left him in Cosmo’s car as a message. Or had the plan been for Mickey to kill him at the same time?

Mickey had asked for the gems. That meant Turner didn’t have them. And that meant Turner hadn’t left George alive long enough to ask where they were. George would have talked faster than a New Yorker on crack and spilled his guts. Sadly, he probably had done that last part, just not willingly.

“How did Halsted fit into it?” Hunter asked.

“He was a jeweler and a fence.” And a sometime friend.

“Do you still have the jewels, Cosmo?”

He glanced at his watch, knowing it would be only one to two more minutes before he had police swarming this terminal. “They’re safely stowed. Don’t let anything happen to me, or you’ll never find them.”

“Jeez, we’re the ones trying to help you, Cosmo. As long as you have those gems, you’re a walking target. Turn yourself in and let us put you in protective custody.”

“Not yet. You want to capture Turner and whoever’s hired him, and I’m the only one who can do it. Gotta fly!” He hung up the phone and walked calmly through the gate lounge before taking a seat on the other side of the waiting area just as five uniformed cops arrived. As they examined the phones and questioned the people nearby, Cosmo melted into the queue of people debarking and heading toward baggage claim.

***

Iris sought the sanctuary of her high-rise apartment, desperate for a few hours in an environment that was all her own. As she pulled into the parking garage, she gave thanks her business provided well for her. She didn’t need to count on anyone for anything. She earned a comfortable living, made her own decisions—she’d been on her own since her mom died. At twenty, she’d inherited Lying Eyes and its clientele, so she quit college and threw herself into designing jewelry and running the store. She’d never regretted the decision.

Cosmo had encouraged her to strike out on her own, and now she understood why. He’d had two other daughters still in high school. She wondered why he’d never told her about the others but thought she knew—she hadn’t been much of a daughter to Cosmo, so why would he think she’d do any better as a sister?

Carrying her purse and the dreaded packet of papers, she sauntered through the hot garage to the elevators, conscious that she wanted something, someone. As much as she’d needed to get away, she didn’t really want to be alone. Already she was wondering if Cosmo had been a better father to those other two women than to her. Had she been that big a disappointment that he went out and fathered two other children?

The elevator provided welcome air conditioning to cool her skin if not her nerves as she rode to the eighteenth floor. She was scheduled to meet David in an hour and, for once, she wasn’t looking forward to it. Two sisters and Cosmo’s bigamy weren’t going to ignite anything but disappointment in his eyes. She wanted to be the model wife for him, and here she was about to saddle him with more problems. She had to pull herself together so they could discuss how this affected their future together. Right now, she could barely think, much less talk, about it. She was the emotional equivalent of gum—chewed to a sloppy mess then spit onto the sidewalk without a second thought.

Foolish to react this way. It wasn’t like Cosmo had just abandoned her. He’d been doing it her whole life. “I really need to harden my heart,” she muttered as she let herself into her apartment.

“And here I was hoping to soften you up with a little gift.”

The voice from her living room, decidedly masculine and somehow familiar, scared her flat against the door. Someone had broken into her home. Heart pounding, she drew two steadying breaths while a dangerous curiosity battled with the natural temptation to flee. Curiosity finally won.

Iris peered around the corner and her pulse hopscotched again at the sight of Mickey. His dress shirt and jeans, both in black, made a bold contrast against the soft desert colors she’d chosen for her furniture, carpet and walls.

She dropped her purse and the papers onto the little table near the door. “Do you think it was wise to come here?” Thank heavens she sounded level-headed, not giddy with the potential chaos of having Mickey Kincaid anywhere near her.

“Like you’ve never caused a man to act foolishly,” he practically purred. He appeared completely relaxed as he reclined against the sage-green pillows of her overstuffed sofa. His lips curved into a knowing smile. She remembered how those lips had nuzzled her ear last night, and she wondered how they’d taste.

No. No. And no. Iris tugged off her gray suit jacket, then regretted the choice when his hooded eyes narrowed even further on her black lace camisole. She couldn’t tell whether he was giving off pheromones or she was, but the room was thick with desire.

This man was dangerous, in all the wrong ways. But then, David had never looked at her with that open hunger that promised a banquet if shared.

Somewhere in the back of her endorphin-fogged brain, a synapse fired to tell her Mickey was exactly the person she needed right now. Giving herself a mental shake, she tossed her jacket on a chair. “The best gift you can give me is leaving.”

“Not a chance.” He rose, sending a tremor through her.

Not fear, no, was that…anticipation? God, she needed to get a grip. “What do you want?”

“Answers.” He stopped and nudged a box on the floor with his foot. “But aren’t you going to open your present?”

Despite her better judgment, she stepped forward, curious.

Mickey chuckled. “It won’t bite you. At least I hope not.”

Warily, she unfolded the top of the box. “It’s Edgar. Why do you have him?”

“Cosmo left him with me last night before he took off. I thought I’d bring him to you.”

“To me?” Her laugh sounded brittle, even to her. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

Mickey refolded the box lid, as if he feared the inquisitive rabbit would leap out and attack him. “It’s your dad’s pet. I figured you’d want to take care of him.”

“Well, you figured wrong. Let one of my dad’s other daughters take care of him.” She ran a hand through her hair, but that only further loosened her French knot.

“Ah, so now you know.”

Her hands stilled. “What, you mean you knew? Did Cosmo tell you?”

He hunched his shoulders as if embarrassed he’d revealed so much. “No, but in my business it pays to know everything you can about everyone around you. I’ve got sources as good as any the police have.”

Dandy. Cosmo hadn’t even bothered to hide his bigamy well. Anyone with a suspicious nature could have learned the truth years ago. Obviously, she hadn’t been suspicious enough.

Agitated, she plucked the pins from her hair and finger-combed it as best she could while she walked to the dining room. The mirror over the breakfront confirmed that she’d made a mess of her shoulder-length curls. She’d have to fix it before she saw David later.

Mickey trailed behind her. “God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, prayerlike.

Her gaze swept up to catch his reflection. That hunger in his eyes had transformed to a longing that was more than carnal, but even as she glimpsed it, he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and looked away.

Maybe she’d imagined it.

“Where’s your boyfriend this evening?”

“My fiancé works. I’m meeting him later.”

“Works on the weekend, huh? Fool.”

“And your lifestyle is so much better?” She raised a brow at him.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He grinned wolfishly. “Even if I worked hard all day, I’d make damn sure to get back home to you as quick as I could. If David could see you like that and still remember what he does for a living, well, I’m just saying…” He shrugged.

Her body warmed to his words as well as the appreciative gleam in his eye. David, with all his pretty speeches, had never heated her blood and shut down her brain the way this guy did. It was sheer animal magnetism, and that was bad.

Even though she liked it.

Iris slipped out of her high heels and walked back to the living room. “What is it you want, Mr. Kincaid?”

Mickey watched the sway of her hips. Oh, yeah, he wanted a lot of things from Iris Fortune, only that wasn’t in the cards. He gave a soft lazy laugh as he followed her. “There’s no rush, is there? Aren’t you going to offer me a drink or something?” When she turned to glare at him, he winked at her.

She froze for a moment then thawed with a chuckle. “Why not? The bar is over there. Make yourself a drink, make yourself at home for that matter.” With a wave she seemed to forget about him and sank onto the sofa, her legs curled beneath her. He mixed two gin and tonics while she removed her pearl bracelets, rings and earrings, and dumped them on the coffee table.

Stepping behind the sofa, he handed her both drinks as she reached up to undo the clasp of her necklace. “Hold these and let me do that for you.”

She leaned back to consider him, her brandy-colored eyes fringed with dark lashes lifted in surprise. Soft curls, the golden red of an angel, fell back to reveal a mile of ivory throat tapering to nearly bare shoulders. His gaze roamed over her breasts, which curved into the lace confines of that sexy little camisole that did nothing to hide her erect nipples.

An erection of his own responded. Great, but now was not the time. He needed information from her, not a night in her bed. Although…

He teased them both by sliding his fingers along her clavicle and up her throat to her nape, while his other hand bunched her hair to one side, the silky texture a welcome torture. Leaning close, he breathed against her ear and smiled when she visibly shuddered. Finally, he undid the catch on her necklace and released one end to let it slip into the valley between her breasts. His gaze locked with hers, he slowly withdrew it, the pearls gliding against her soft skin.

Noticing her closed eyelids, he leaned close. “I’m available any time you need help undressing,” he whispered.

Her eyes shot open to consider him speculatively. Mickey held his breath—time itself seemed to stop. Finally, Iris offered his glass to him. When he took it, she turned her palm over to receive the pearl necklace. He laid it in her hand.

“Sit down, Mr. Kincaid. You want something, and whatever it is means more to you than sex.”

“Am I that obvious?” He rubbed his temple and sat on the opposite end of the sofa. “I must be slipping.”

“Don’t play me. Last night you told me Cosmo stole ten million dollars in gems.” She sipped her drink. “How do you know that?”

“The people I work for hired him to pick up the goods, only Cosmo never delivered. I don’t know if he’s trying to sell the gems or if he’s trying to get my employers to pay him a higher fee. Either way, he could wind up dead—like the guy in his car.”

“You know about that?”

“He’s the jeweler who authenticated the gems. I think your dad was looking for easy money, but he doesn’t know the type of people he’s up against.”

Iris pushed back her riotous curls. “Where is he now?”

“I don’t know. But I need to find him before anyone else does.”

“Let me guess—he’s put your ass on the line, too.”

“He’s got all our asses on the line.”

Iris choked on her drink. “All? What have I got to do with this?”

“These people will use you and your sisters to get to Cosmo.”

Her eyes darkened at the mention of her sisters, and Mickey remembered that she’d only learned of them this morning. He knew all too well what it was like to have your life yanked out from under you. Sympathy stalled his next words in his throat, but the role he had to play here doggedly forced them out. “So don’t be some kind of sap for your old man. What kind of gems are they?”

“You’re asking me? How should I know?”

He regarded the outrage in her raised brows and the negative slant to her lips. Was it possible Cosmo hadn’t asked her to copy them?

“You don’t think he asked me to copy stolen gems?” She laughed in that broken way of hers that meant she wasn’t amused. “Not that Cosmo includes me in any of his little schemes, but even if he did, I’d sure as hell recognize something that valuable and know he was up to no good.”

“And you’d refuse to help him do something illegal?”

“I don’t break the law.”

Mickey nodded at her emphatic idealism. “Even if breaking the law could save your father’s life?”

She rose swiftly, barely setting her drink on the coffee table. All but visibly twitching, she stood a few feet away with her back to him. “What is it you want from me?”

“You haven’t answered my question—”

She spun on him, her brandy-colored eyes blazing. “Cosmo’s lied to me, cheated on my mother and now you’re telling me he’s stolen. A man like that doesn’t deserve filial duty, he deserves what he gets. Now, what do you want?”

She’d still avoided the question, but he’d allow it. The non-answer was answer enough for him. He held her drink out, until she slowly stepped forward and accepted it as she sat. She donned that controlled façade of hers while she sipped, ice tinkling like a wind chime before a storm.

He wished he could tell her the truth about his ruse. But then, she hadn’t been very forthcoming with Hunter. He frowned. Telling her he was a cop might not get him anywhere, and it would be a stupid risk to give her that kind of ammunition.

Best to play it out as Mickey the hood. “I need to know what I’m dealing with, searching for. What does ten million dollars in gems look like?”

She snorted. “It could look like anything, depending on what type of gem. The problem is you’re talking about a lot of stones for that kind of money.”

Mickey massaged the back of his neck, where the first trace of a headache always started. “No, the package was something Cosmo could easily carry and conceal. Wouldn’t diamonds be worth that much?”

Iris leaned over, showing a length of supple spine, as she rooted on a shelf beneath the coffee table’s glass top. Her hands tugged an oversized book into view, and she flipped through the pages, before laying it on the table before them.

Mickey liked that she sat much closer to him now that her attention was captured by their topic. The headache receded, and he leaned forward to peruse the book.

“In today’s market, diamonds are more plentiful, therefore, their price isn’t as high. Now, there are still special finds, large uncut stones that could fetch that sort of price, but there’s been no publicity of a find like that for years. The largest diamonds mostly belong to Britain’s royal family and are held in state at the Tower of London.”

Her pink manicured nail traced from photo to photo as she named them. “There’s the Koh-i-Noor that belonged to the Queen Mother, and the Cullinan Two found in the Imperial State Crown. The Cullinan One, or First Star of Africa, in the royal scepter is the second-largest cut diamond in the world. Its estimated value is around four hundred million dollars.”

“How big is it?”

“It’s 530 carats.”

“Say it so I can understand it.”

“It’s roughly the size of a large pear.” She held her hand up, her thumb and fingers curved open to form a large open C. “Like this.”

“So, ten million dollars’ worth of diamonds should be much smaller.”

“It’s not that simple.” Iris riffled the pages for another picture. “You could have an uncut diamond that same size that wouldn’t be worth even one million dollars.”

“How’s that?”

“Until a gem is cut, it’s just another rock. Many have imperfections that will prevent them from ever becoming valuable gems. Some can be cut and polished, but if they don’t have exquisite clarity, then they’ll have a lower value. Each finished gem is judged on its carat weight, cut, clarity and color.”

Mickey scrubbed his face with his hands. The headache was definitely returning. “What color? Diamonds are all clear, aren’t they?”

Iris laughed, this time amused by him. He found he liked the idea of making those lips twist into an unplanned smile. “Diamonds can be classified as white, yellow, blue or pink. When you look closely at them, they have fire inside.”

He scanned the open pages as he reviewed what she’d said. Something needed to add up better than all this. “Why would anyone involve Cosmo in stealing diamonds?”

She shrugged. “Are you sure they’re diamonds?”

“They’re the most valuable gems, right?”

As Iris shook her head, her bronze curls cast a riot of fiery light. “Too plentiful, over-mined. The real money is in rare colors of emeralds or sapphires or…” Her voice trailed off and she tapped her lower lip with her index finger.

Now there was a look he liked. Then he noted her furrowed brow. She retrieved the book and flipped some more pages before setting it back down again. “Or, if you’re looking for a reason to tie in Cosmo, there’s always alexandrite.”

“Alexandrite? What’s that?”

She pointed to two pictures showing a green rock and a red rock. “That’s alexandrite. It’s arguably the highest priced gemstone on earth. Well-cut gems of the highest quality could sell for as much as a million dollars per carat.”

Mickey studied the pictures. “It comes in red or green?”

“The stones are red and green. Alexandrite has an interesting property. The stones look green by daylight, but if you put them under incandescent lighting, they turn red. Those pictures are of the same stone.”

“Now there’s a trick I’d like to see.”

“It’s not a trick of the eye. It’s a property inherent to the chemical makeup of the stone.”

“Why haven’t I ever heard of alexandrite before?”

“It’s very rare. The initial find was in the Ural Mountains of Russia in the mid-nineteenth century. A selection of the stones was presented to the Romanov family and named for their son Alexander.”

“Romanov, as in—”

“The Russian czars, until Nicholas II and his family were put to death by the Bolsheviks. Alexandrite, once prized in Russia, went out of fashion.” Iris shrugged. “This wasn’t that big a deal, since after the initial expedition, there was precious little of it ever found. Some alexandrite was mined in Brazil back in the 1980s, but nowhere near the quality of the original Russian stones.”

“So, ten million in alexandrite would be very easy to carry or conceal.”

Iris nodded.

“And Cosmo knew all this history?”

She nodded again. “Because of my mother’s Russian heritage, Czarist alexandrite was a bedtime story for me. Mom told me over and over about how one set of ten jewels were all cut from a single alexandrite stone by one of our ancestors. The jewels were given to Alexander II and placed into a new crown, but the crown was never used. I guess it was a myth.”

“Myth?” Mickey pierced her with his gaze.

“There’s never been any proof the story is true, but Mom always believed in it.”

Mickey downed his drink, conscious that his headache was gone. At last things were beginning to fall into place. Of course, if he hadn’t been so interested in Iris, he might have seen the problem from this angle long before now. The magician hadn’t been some happenchance choice—Cosmo’s bosses had a motive in hiring him to move the gems.

Cosmo knew about alexandrite from his Russian wife; he possibly had connections over there. And Mickey knew the magician had flown back from St. Petersburg three nights before.

Mickey started to rise when he heard a telephone trill. Iris lurched to her feet, reaching up to touch her hair as if to be sure everything was as it should be. She faltered a moment when she realized her pins were gone and her hair down.

“Excuse me,” she said before hurrying toward the kitchen. He waited, and his silence was soon rewarded. “Hi…No, I’m here and everything is fine…What?”

During the lengthy pause, Mickey had to force himself to remain seated.

“I just found out today…Well, shocked, really…Oh, now he didn’t kill anyone—even the police said they didn’t think he was responsible. It’s just that the body was in his car, so naturally they want to question him, only he seems to have disappeared.”

The ragged breath she drew told him in an instant she needed someone on her side. “And there’s something else you should know, something I just learned. Cosmo committed bigamy, and he had two other families…Yes, I have two younger half sisters.”

The tone of defeat in her voice tugged at him. Mickey rose, ill at ease with eavesdropping on even half her conversation with the noble if clueless David. Still, he crept toward the doorway to watch her. Why did she always sound like she was apologizing to the guy?

“No, of course I didn’t know anything about them. I’m still trying to fathom how he kept this secret from all three of us for so many years.”

There was another pause, but he noted that she squared her shoulders.

“It’s awkward for you?” This time, her brittle laugh about shattered Mickey. “You might have given me at least thirty seconds of sympathy before you brought the campaign into it…No, I don’t think we will discuss it over dinner. I don’t think I even want to see you tonight.” With a sigh, her voice eased. “David, it’s been a long day, what with the police, Cosmo’s two other daughters—”

The jewel thief in my living room, Mickey finished the thought for her. He backed away to survey the living room, dotted with the remnants of Iris’s casual striptease, their drinks, the telltale indentations on the sofa where they’d sat, and willfully suppressed the urge to clean things up. It was best for her to continue to think of him as a bad guy.

Best for them both.

She returned, composed and collected. The façade was well constructed, but he wondered how much it cost her. “Are we about done here?”

“Yeah.” He set down his drink. “Is he coming over?”

She eyed him but let the invasiveness of his question slide. “No.”

“Because I could help you pick up, make it look like I was never here.”

Iris wished it were that easy. Sure, she could clear away all physical traces of him, and David would never suspect a hot thief had visited her. It would be much harder to prevent Mickey’s sexy image from haunting these rooms. She should never have allowed him in here.

Wait, she hadn’t let him in. He’d broken in. Hot or no, the guy was still a criminal, and she’d be crazy to trust him.

“That’s not necessary.”

He got the hint. “Thanks for the lesson. I’ll call you as soon as I have some word on Cosmo.”

“Thanks.” She followed him to the door, but paused as he took her hand. The way his charismatic eyes held hers, and those lips—they curved in an invitation. His fingers tightened on her arms, and she knew the momentary triumph of an impending kiss.

An abrupt knock made them both freeze.

Mickey raised his brow at her, and Iris shrugged. Standing on tiptoe, she peered through the peephole. Cosmo’s two other daughters stood in the hall.

Peachy.

She looked sidelong at Mickey. “I don’t suppose you can climb out a window?”

He didn’t answer, merely nudged her aside to look through the peephole himself. “Wow, are those your sisters?”

She pushed him out of the way and opened the door to glare at the women. “What do you want?”

Corazon’s brow immediately furrowed, and her eyes took on an adversarial glint.

But Allie smoothed things over with a smile. “We wanted to talk. Please, Iris.”

“Why don’t you ladies come in,” Mickey said with a sweep of his arm. “I was just leaving.”

“Are you David?” Allie tilted her head to look at him.

“How do you know about David?” Iris asked, feeling that more than her home was being invaded by these two.

Corazon pushed over the threshold waving a handful of paper like a weapon. “First, your engagement is listed on this. Second, we’ve been down at your shop. Once Ginny found out we were your sisters, she told us your whole life story.”

“Oh, jeez.” Iris leaned back against the open door. She’d crafted a sensible adult life with the same skill and artistry she’d use for any new piece of jewelry. How could her hard work come crashing down upon her all in one day?

Allie still stood in the doorway, studying Mickey’s face. “You’re not, are you? David, I mean.”

He held out his hand to her. “Mickey Kincaid. I’m Iris’s cousin.”

“On my mother’s side,” Iris added.

“Well don’t get all snitty about it.” Cory shook hands with Mickey, too. “Cory Fortune and this is Allie. We’re Iris’s half sisters.”

“So I gathered. She’s been telling me about it.”

Cory leaned forward to whisper to him. “Is she always this bitchy?”

Mickey smiled. “She’s had a rough day.”

“Haven’t we all?”

Iris resented the sarcasm. More than that, she resented that the other woman had any right to judge her. Grabbing Mickey’s sleeve, she tugged him into the hall. “Sorry you have to leave, cousin.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, Rissie. Sooner if I find Uncle Cosmo.” He bent down to kiss her cheek.

Iris didn’t move away fast enough. The roughness of his five o’clock shadow melted as the warmth of his lips on her skin tingled all the way down her body. Everything about this guy was so wrong, what made his kisses feel so right?

His jaw was set in a hard line as he withdrew from her, and she thought she spied a tic in his cheek, as if he were irritated about something. Maybe the interruption by the other women. She was annoyed by it, too.

God, she was in such trouble. She should be thanking these women for saving her from the biggest mistake of her life. Sad to let pheromones or whatever tempt her into doing something stupid, something she’d regret.

Still, there was no denying the regret she experienced as Mickey walked down the hall. He never even looked back, leaving her alone to face Cosmo’s other daughters.

She refused to think of them as sisters.

Chapter Five

When Iris reentered her apartment, she found Cory holding her discarded high heel sling-backs by two fingers. With a quirked brow, the brunette appraised her. “Does David know about Mickey?”

“I told you, Mickey’s my cousin.”

“And I’m the Queen Mother.” Cory scanned the living room. “It looks like your cousin barely got you in the door before you started shedding clothes. Or did that happen after you shared a drink?”

Allie stifled a giggle. “Don’t judge, Cory.” Her reprimand sounded more like a divine pronouncement. She turned glowing tawny eyes on Iris. “Be careful.”

Heat rushed to Iris’s face at this unwarranted advice and, to hide it, she stalked over to the chair where she’d draped her suit jacket. Gathering command of herself, she returned to take her shoes from Cory. “Did you two come here to tag-team me on my personal life? Because it’s none of your damn business.”

The brunette surrendered the heels. “We came here because you didn’t come to your shop. Believe me, I’d much prefer to be having this conversation at some centrally located restaurant.”

“Why should we have any conversation at all? I don’t want to know you.” Iris turned to include the blonde. “Either of you.”

Allie’s smile fell, and Iris experienced a swift slap of regret. Tough. Miss Sunshine there will have to learn the world isn’t all rainbows. Iris made a beeline for the front door. “Now, I’ve had a rather long day, so if you two could le—” A sudden jerk to her arm stopped her. She turned, prepared to do battle with that acidic brunette.

But it was Allie who had her by the arm and towered over her by a good four inches. Iris glanced down at the blonde’s sneakers. Determined to regain the upper hand, she marshaled her features into her most intimidating mask. “I’d let go of me if I were you, or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Allie said with a surprisingly harsh laugh. “I’ve got a black belt in Aikido, I run five miles a day, and I’m the UNLV women’s kickboxing champion. Do you really want to take me on, sis?”

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Cory asked with infuriating calm.

Iris shook off Allie’s grip. “Cosmo may have fathered all of us, but that doesn’t make me your sister.” She thought the barb would penetrate like the last one, but the blonde had steeled herself against such verbal mocking.

“Fine.” Allie tossed her head like a wild horse unwilling to be bridled, her eyes still hard and brilliant. “Just sit down and talk to us.”

“Why?” Iris practically growled in her frustration.

“Justin thinks that between the three of us, we might be able to piece together what Daddy was up to, or at least where he’s hiding.”

It took Iris a moment to gather that Justin was Detective Hunter. She looked over at Cory, who’d already taken a seat on the sofa.

Cory lifted her brows in silent agreement that using the cop’s first name was a bad sign. “Detective Hunter may be right.”

“I’m sure of it,” Allie said, sitting beside Cory. “I know about Daddy’s magic act, Cory knows about his gambling habits, and Iris, you know—”

Nothing. Iris sank into a chair, dropping her shoes and jacket to the floor beside her. She was suddenly very unsure of herself and resented the hell out of it. Here were two women who’d grown up with Cosmo’s love. Either of them probably knew him better than she did.

Allie’s nose twitched in thought. “What do you know about him?”

Iris contemplated both their expectant faces and stifled the urge to guzzle the remains of her gin and tonic. “I know he’s a charming liar who can disappear like that.” She snapped her fingers. “He was forever dreaming up crazy schemes that would make our family rich.”

“Only none of them ever succeeded.” Cory nodded. “Yeah, Papa is a dreamer.”

“I love that about him,” Allie said with a smile that softened her features.

“Me, too,” Cory agreed.

Cosmo had certainly snowed both of them. But Iris found she couldn’t voice any dissent for the lump in her throat.

“Did Papa teach you about gems and jewelry?” the brunette asked.

Iris brushed her hair back from her eyes. “No. The jewelry business was my mother’s. She was a true artist.”

Allie scanned the still-open book on the coffee table before looking up. “I take it she’s gone?”

“She died eight years ago in a car accident.”

Allie nodded. “Lying Eyes, that’s a great name for the shop. The jewelry is beautiful.”

Despite herself, Iris felt a wave of pride.

“You’re lucky to have your own business,” Cory added. “What I wouldn’t give to not have to clock in on someone else’s schedule.”

“Where do you work?” Iris asked the question before she remembered that she wasn’t participating in this conversation.

“The Venetian. I’m a dealer there.”

“Did Cosmo teach you to cheat at cards?” Allie asked.

Cory grinned. “He did. Not that I’d ever do it at work.”

Allie pantomimed dealing. “Yeah, he taught me how to palm cards as soon as I could handle shuffling. He said it was only for the magic act, never for the casinos.”

“I was never any good at it,” Iris admitted. “Eventually he gave up on me.”

“But you’ve got other talents,” Allie said. “Your jewelry designs are amazing.”

Another wave of warmth washed over her. “What do you do? I mean, when you’re not kicking the hell out of someone?”

Allie laughed. “Sorry, I’m normally very nonaggressive. I’m a graduate student in kinesiology at UNLV, but I really hope to become a veterinarian one day. Right now, I’m a stage assistant over at MGM.”

“Cool,” Cory said.

Allie shrugged. “I used to help Daddy, but he told me I needed to move on.”

Another spark of jealousy singed Iris. Cosmo had never tried to include her in his work. Now it was obvious he hadn’t needed to. He’d had other daughters to train. She turned back to business. “So, did Detective Hunter give you any idea of what we should be sharing with each other? I’d rather not be up all night.”

“He wasn’t specific,” Allie said. “But when he suggested it, I thought maybe there were things we’d be willing to tell each other that we’re not ready to share with the police.” Her gaze dropped again to the book on the coffee table.

Iris leaned back into the cushions of her chair. Let the blonde look. Iris wasn’t sharing anything with them until she was ready.

“He’s right,” Cory said. “I think between us we may have the information we need to find Papa. Maybe even help him.”

“And what makes you think that?” Iris said.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “He told me as much when I saw him this afternoon.”

***

Marko Gorseyev adjusted himself in the tight-fitting airport chair. His brother Viktor made a similar rustling next to him. Hell, they were like two matronly hens trying to settle on their nests. Marko doubted Viktor would find the comparison amusing, so he didn’t share it.

Really, there was little amusing about passing from one’s prime. They were both nearing sixty and, though Viktor was younger, Marko still felt robust as an ox. Despite losing his hair. Despite the belly that kept getting larger no matter how he cut back on desserts. Despite how life had fallen into a mundane routine.

All in all, a trip to America might be fun—

“Marko!” Aunt Tatiana’s voice carried over all the other terminal sounds.

—except that his aging aunt insisted on making the trip with them. Even now, Viktor’s son Sergei was playing nursemaid to her, wheeling her in that chair. Well, it might be more comfortable than what he was sitting on.

“Marko!”

He stumbled to his feet. He should have done so the first time she called. The accepted matriarch of the family since before the Cold War ended, she rarely raised her voice. Though what she expected him to do for her was unclear. “Yes, aunt. What is wrong?”

“They say our departure will leave late. Why is that?”

He shrugged. “There are many possible reasons.” And he wasn’t about to list them for her. He made a quick gesture to Viktor to warn him to stay quiet. Fueling her ire while they were stuck in this terminal would be worse than hell.

Sergei, practically a child still in his late twenties, his blond hair as yet untouched by gray, leaned over his great-aunt. “Are you sure you want to make this trip, Aunt Tatiana? It will take hours to fly to America on this crowded airplane.”

Marko held his breath. With his ice-blue eyes, young Sergei had a way with women—all women—of any age.

“Don’t think you can talk me out of this.” Tatiana eyed them all warily.

Her once-vivid blue eyes were faded now, her skin wrinkled and spotted with age. Though she was diminutive and frail of body, Marko would think twice before crossing her. Apparently, Cosmo hadn’t thought at all.

“You’ll not be leaving me behind on this, so forget your notions.”

“Flight 8211 departing for Las Vegas, Nevada, will begin pre-boarding at gate six shortly.” The announcement over the loudspeaker featured a friendly woman’s voice, and Marko gave thanks they’d be on their way soon. He was counting the hours until they landed in the casino-laden American desert.

“Do you want some water? Maybe one of your little pills?” he asked his aunt.

Viktor reached into his pocket for the prescription bottle. Even Sergei drew a breath as if he’d approve drugging her with a sleeping pill before they boarded.

“I do not want my pills,” Tatiana said with asperity. “I want Cosmo Fortune’s head.”

***

“You saw Daddy this afternoon?” Allie asked, hope and joy apparent in her voice.

Iris couldn’t say anything, but a giddy sort of relief flooded her at the news that, as of a few hours ago, Cosmo was still alive and kicking. Until now, she hadn’t realized how much she’d feared she’d never see him again.

Cory shifted her position on the couch and pushed the heavy curls from her face. “Papa came by the casino. He was disguised so well, even I didn’t recognize him at first.” She proceeded to tell them about the card game with the tourist from South Carolina, and how he’d beaten her best hand of the day with a trio of queens.

“That’s when I knew without a doubt it was him,” she finished.

Iris pursed her lips, trying to form the question she wanted to ask without putting Cory on the defensive. “Why didn’t you tell Hunter?”

Cory glanced at the blonde but then met Iris’s gaze levelly. “He’s my papa, and I believe with all my heart that he didn’t do anything wrong. He said he would wrap things up, and I think he can do that better on his own without the police interfering.”

“Fair enough,” Iris said.

Allie leaned forward. “So he turned over three queens to let you know who he was, but did he tell you anything?”

Cory rose, her elegant hands wringing each other while she strode about the living room. Though petite, she carried herself with regal grace in her khaki shorts and green camp shirt. “He said we were each a queen of our own country, and he loved us all equally. He said fortune had dealt him three lovely queens, and he had to think about us and do what’s right.”

“That sounds like Daddy,” Allie said.

Iris remained silent, wishing she felt as confident about Cosmo’s motives.

“He said a queen is always a strong card.” Cory stopped, her eyes squinting as she tried to recall more. “But three of them together are practically unbeatable. Then he told me I was the queen of spades, that I had the power to bury him.”

“He risked coming to you when he knew you might turn him in,” Iris said.

Cory’s dark eyes held a haunted look when she gazed at the others. “I let him get away with cheating at my table. I mean, he had to have cheated to get those three queens, and I didn’t turn him in. I never thought I’d let someone cheat.”

“You did the right thing,” Allie said. “These are very special circumstances.”

“It made one thing clear to me—Papa’s more important to me than my career.”

Iris felt a sting of jealousy at the words. She wanted to be able to say them, wanted to believe them. But Cosmo had always been more committed to his magic career than to her, so for years she’d made her own career more important than him. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t trusted her.

Allie cleared her throat. “Which queen was I?”

Cory’s demeanor softened. “You’re the queen of hearts. He said you have blond hair and a heart of gold—and he’s right.”

Allie smiled. She looked across at Iris. “You must be the queen of diamonds. It only makes sense with the jewelry store.”

“More than that,” Cory said, approaching Iris. “He said you’re the keeper of the gems.”

Iris furrowed her brow as she tried to make sense of that.

“Anything you’d care to share with the class, sis?” Cory asked.

Iris locked eyes with the brunette, still unwilling to be railroaded.

Allie interrupted their stalemate. “Iris, do you have a pet?”

The question was so far out in left field, it wasn’t even in the park. Then Iris remembered Cosmo’s rabbit and scrambled out of her chair. “Hell, that poor rabbit is still in the box.” She shouldered past Cory to get to the box and open it.

Edgar blinked up at her, or maybe it was the sudden brightness. His front paws burrowed at the corner of the box, scratching at it until the other women came over to peer inside.

“Edgar!” Allie heaved the monster rabbit from the box to cuddle him close. “You poor thing. What are you doing in that dark box?”

Edgar nuzzled her face with nose a-twitch before swiveling his ears, and then his head, to consider the others in the room.

“These are my sisters, Edgar.” Allie scratched him gently between his long ears.

He looked up at her and blinked his red eyes.

“Did you know that already?” Allie paused to contemplate the rabbit, her brows knit, her head tilted, almost as if she were listening.

A shiver ran up Iris’s spine, and she shared a look with Cory. Definitely, the brunette agreed that there was something odd about Allie.

“You knew Daddy had more than one family, didn’t you?” Allie looked at Iris. “Well, I like that. Edgar knew about us.”

From the blonde’s other side, Cory stepped toward her. “Allie? Are you talking to the rabbit?”

Iris snorted. A little snuggly with the bunny was cute, but this was going too far. Sure hadn’t taken long to discover that at least one of these so-called sisters was potentially certifiable.

Allie drew a breath and turned with a frown to the brunette. “I know it sounds silly, but I have this…telepathy with animals.”

“It doesn’t sound silly,” Cory said.

“Yes, it does,” Iris countered.

Cory glared at her. “Your problem is you don’t believe in anything.”

“I don’t have a problem. If you believe her, why don’t you ask ol’ Edgar there when and where was the last time he saw Cosmo?”

The brunette opened her mouth, no doubt to deliver a stinging retort, but Allie shushed her.

Adjusting the rabbit so she could look into his eyes, the blonde looked like a fairy princess, some magical being able to communicate with woodland creatures.

“Oh, please,” Iris said.

She was immediately silenced with the simplicity of Allie’s quirked eyebrow before the young woman again made eye contact with Edgar. She held him up in the air so he could look down upon her. His nose twitched, and his jaw nibbled invisible grass. It almost looked like he was talking.

“Edgar was with Daddy right before he disappeared.” Allie lowered the rabbit back into the box. “Someone threatened them.”

“Who?” Cory asked.

Allie looked into the box for a few seconds. “Tall, dark, strong. Wait, are you sure?” She shook her head, still looking down at the rabbit. “No, it’s not that I don’t believe you.”

“Allie?” Iris was definitely starting to worry.

“Fine.” Allie tilted her head to consider the other women. “I have this clear vision of Mickey holding a gun. He threatened to kill them both. Daddy got away. Edgar didn’t.”

Iris’s stomach tightened as she recalled dancing in Mickey’s strong arms. Your dad stiffed me tonight. For all his suave moves, the thief was a dangerous unknown. He’d brought her the rabbit, asked for her advice, offered to help Cosmo—was it only because he had unfinished business with her father?

Cory’s brown eyes, so similar to her own, had softened. “Iris, tell us what’s going on. Who is he?”

“He’s not your cousin,” Allie added. “I don’t need Edgar to tell me that.”

She drew a steadying breath. These women were still strangers to her, but she couldn’t deny that they all shared a common link. “He’s a jewel thief. Cosmo was involved in moving ten million in stolen gems, but he disappeared. Now no one knows where to find the stones—or Cosmo.”

***

Mickey paced outside the Clark County morgue, his head pounding, insides churning. He paused to check out the edifice against the garish lights. Not an imposing structure. Certainly nothing to freak out about. If it weren’t for—

“Fuck it,” he muttered. He rooted for his cell phone and pressed the familiar speed dial digits. Standing in the cool nighttime desert air, he waited.

“Hello?” The familiar voice eased his aching head.

“Hiya, Mom.”

“Michael! How are you? You’re not home yet, are you?”

“No, I’m still on loan.”

“And I hope the people of Chicago know they can’t keep you.”

His conscience gave a twinge. But his captains—both in Boston and Las Vegas—had agreed it was best if no one, including his family, knew where he was. “I’ll be home as soon as this is all over.” Another twinge. He doubted he’d ever return to Boston. The city, the force, his job, his family—none of it was the same with Brian gone.

Mickey stared at the morgue building, dark and impersonal, cold as death in the night. It had been snowing the night he had to identify Brian’s bullet-riddled body.

His mom drew a breath in her recitation of family events as if she’d just realized his silence. “You’re missing your brother, aren’t you.”

“I miss all of you, Mom.”

“Yeah, but we’re all here waiting for you.”

But not Brian. She didn’t have to say it. “How’s Suze?” he asked.

“She’s getting by. Her business is doing real well. I’m glad for her—it keeps her mind occupied.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Less bitter now?”

“Her husband was murdered. I think she’s entitled to a little bitterness.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we all are.”

“Here, talk to your father.” The words became muffled as his mom handed over the phone.

Shit. He always either pissed her off or made her cry. One of the many reasons he’d decided it was time to get out of town.

“Michael, good to hear from you!” As always, Dad was boisterous. Sheesh, it had to be midnight back home.

“Hey, Pops. Is she okay?”

Dad didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “She doesn’t sleep well. We stay up and watch the late night shows. What?” His voice intensified. “He’s asking me how you’re doing. Of course you’re not falling apart, but look at you, now you need a tissue. I’m telling you, son, this woman can cry buckets.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to set her off.”

“Not your fault. I mean, she’s still marking off the anniversaries.”

“We all are.”

“You doing all right out there?”

“I’m fine. Give Mom my love, and both of you try to get some sleep.” Mickey turned to see a man approaching him. “I’ve got to go now. Take care.”

“Call when you can.”

“Yeah.” Mickey snapped his phone shut and closed his eyes for a few moments. Just long enough to picture his burly father, king of the Kincaid clan, a career cop who still picked up shifts as the elementary crossing guard. His mom, rounded and softened with the years of motherhood, stoic in her loss, passionate in her grief. Suze, his brother’s angry widow, still simmering with bitterness at the violent death of her young husband.

He hadn’t known how to help any of them through their grief. He still didn’t know.

“You going to stand here all night?”

Mickey opened one eye to contemplate Justin Hunter, his local contact and partner in this crazy undercover operation. The guy had to be ten years his senior, tended to go by the book, maybe wasn’t the most imaginative, but he redeemed himself by being reliable as hell.

“It’s not your first time in a morgue, is it?” Hunter asked as they entered the building.

“Hardly.” He breathed in the sterility of the interior and forced down the bile that rose in his throat. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he recognized the racing of his heart from the many nightmares he’d had since collecting Brian’s body from the morgue in Boston.

This was the six-month anniversary.

He’d been closer to his brother than anyone else on earth. Whoever said “It’s better to have loved and lost…” didn’t know shit. Mickey hadn’t just lost Brian, his brother had been wrenched from their lives by a drug addict, a guy so hyped on heroin he might actually get away with appealing the murder charge. Unfair didn’t even begin to cover it. Not only would Mickey have protected his brother, he would have given his life instead. There was nothing he wouldn’t have done for his brother.

He proved that when he survived making the final arrangements without going insane.

“Hey, are you all right, Mick?” Hunter’s hushed tone still expressed concern.

“I’m fine,” he said gruffly. “Let’s get this over with.”

Mickey had joined this case for one reason—to capture the people responsible for murdering an international real estate attorney, a Russian translator, and now a jeweler. The murders were all linked by the definitive style of Sam Turner, a known hired gun who was as elusive as a cat at a dog show—and just as dangerous if cornered. There were maybe three people who could boast being able to recognize Turner. The guy had a knack for staying hidden until right before he killed you. And Turner never missed.

Cosmo had drawn a lucky card when Turner went after the jeweler. Mickey had received his orders by telephone—deal with Cosmo. Everyone involved seemed to view the magician as an unimportant player, someone to let the second-string practice on. Only, now that Halsted was dead, and the gems were still missing, it was obvious that Cosmo had risen to number one on their hit parade—with a bullet.

Mickey wanted to protect Cosmo. The guy might be a pain in the ass, but he didn’t deserve to die for his bad choices or petty crimes. He wanted to end Turner’s career. The creep had done enough damage in this town. But there was still one major unknown—who had hired him? Mickey didn’t want just the hired gun, he wanted the guy literally calling the shots.

***

With the push of a button, the tinted window of the town car lowered. Outside, the air had cooled rapidly with the setting sun, the day’s stifling heat giving way to the night’s comfortable warmth.

Robert Donovan allowed neither temperature nor time of day to hinder him or his plans. He’d built an empire in this town by adhering to his goals. Nothing and no one was going to stop this deal for him.

Least of all some two-bit has-been like Cosmo Fortune. Christ, the magician was practically a doddering fool.

He never would have hired the weak grifter except for two things—Cosmo had contacts and knowledge. No telling how he did it, but Cosmo knew men of power amongst the Russian mafia, and he knew all the mythology surrounding the Romanovs’ alexandrite necklace. Not only that, but he spoke fluent Russian.

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.

Chapter Six

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.

Her own heart started to hammer as she recalled promising David earlier in the week that she’d go golfing this morning. Even after their “bad conversation” last night—David had once said he didn’t believe in arguments—he was here like clockwork to carry out the preordained schedule.

Nice. Consistent. Reliable. Just what she’d always wanted.

And what she so didn’t need right now.

“Iris? Are you there?” David’s voice carried through the keyhole. Of course, he wouldn’t want to disturb the neighbors, wouldn’t want to make a scene.

“Just a second.” She checked the robe again to be sure she was mostly covered, then turned the deadbolt and opened the door.

The planes of David’s face relaxed into that news-anchor smile he had down pat. “Look at you. You overslept, didn’t you?” He bussed her on the cheek as he strode into the room, looking as poised and polished as a model for some pro shop.

“Yeah.” Her voice still felt scratchy with fatigue. She glanced toward her bedroom. She couldn’t get ready with Mickey in there, and besides, he’d said he needed her. “Look, David, I’m sorry, but I didn’t get much sleep—”

“That was at least partly my fault.” He came forward to grip her upper arms, not with Mickey’s forceful domination, but with gentle pressure that engendered trust. So perfectly David. “I’m sorry, Iris. I was thoughtless and selfish, and you deserve so much better.” He leaned forward to kiss her.

She twisted her head slightly so his lips pecked her cheek.

David pulled back. His lips formed an uncharacteristic frown beneath his serious eyes and knit brows. “You’re not still angry with me, are you?”

“No.” She smiled to reassure him. She wasn’t angry, just preoccupied thinking up plausible explanations for the man in her bedroom.

“Good, because I’ve been thinking. You know I’m not crazy about your dad, but I’d like to meet your sisters, maybe take them to dinner. I mean, if you think you plan to get to know them.” He sniffed the air. “Mmm, coffee smells great.” He headed into the kitchen, where he poured himself a cup.

“Well, actually, they were over here last night for a while.” Iris stole a glance at her bedroom door.

“So you’re already getting to know them. Good. We’ll need to vet them, you know.”

“Vet them?”

“For the campaign. The press will be digging all through your family once we formally announce our engagement. Your father will be enough of a challenge.” He sipped some coffee and ran his tongue along his lips. “Mmm, this is the best cup of coffee you’ve ever made. Have you been practicing?”

While David was perfect in so many ways, there was one little wrinkle—he didn’t care for her cooking. She inhaled the aroma from her cooling cup and had to admit that Mickey made a good cup of joe.

“So, your sisters, they won’t be any sort of liability to us, will they?”

Interpreting “us” as David’s campaign, she gritted her teeth against any caustic retort. She barely knew those women, why let them start an argument between her and her fiancé? She wouldn’t. Nothing would spoil this Sunday morning.

From the master bathroom, her shower began to blast water.

Iris closed her eyes. Mickey Kincaid better drown himself, because—gun or no—she was about to murder him.

“Iris, is someone else here?” David asked.

Nothing to do but brazen it out. Opening her eyes, she said brightly, “Oh, I forgot to mention…I mean, that’s why I got so little—” No, she shouldn’t say that. She didn’t know what to say.

Frowning at her sudden tongue-tied state, David set down his coffee and marched toward the bedroom. He turned the knob slowly, then pushed open the door.

Iris winced, waiting for Mickey to jump out with gun drawn.

But the room looked pristine. Her bed was made, and last night’s clothes—the ones she’d peeled onto the floor with as much thought as a snake sheds skin—were nowhere to be seen. On her closet doorknob hung one of her business suits, she suspected as a signal to her.

“David, everything is fine, but maybe it’s best if you played without me today.”

Surveying the neat room, his gaze flitted around until it came to rest on the bathroom door. He shook his head. “Aww, no. It’s him, isn’t it?”

“Who?” she said, stalling.

“Cosmo.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I’m running for public office, and you’re harboring a fugitive from the law. Well, it’s wrong, Iris. I know you mean well. I know he’s your father, but he’s going to get you into all sorts of trouble if you’re not careful.”

Iris nodded, biting her lip.

“I think it’s best if he gives himself up, don’t you?” He raised a brow at her.

“Well, I’m not—”

David didn’t wait for an answer but flung open the bathroom door.

“Hey! Easy there, tiger.” Steam billowed out of the tiled bath, but the glass door didn’t leave a lot to the imagination as Mickey swiped the water from his face.

Iris averted her eyes to the floor, though they had a tendency to move northward with no conscious thought.

“You!” David exclaimed.

“Oh, hey, Dave.” He waved nonchalantly, like he saw “Dave” in her bathroom every morning. He even shot “Dave” his swashbuckling grin.

David turned to her, as bewildered as any armadillo just before it was run down by a truck.

“You remember my cousin Mickey, don’t you, David?” she said weakly.

Behind him, her unwanted visitor grabbed a towel and began to dry himself.

“Good to see you again, Dave. You talk Rissie into golfing instead of working today?” Mickey was being infuriatingly affable. Even she wanted to slip into that shower and wring his…neck.

God, she was shameless. She deserved whatever accusations David was going to fling at her. She should have told him the truth about Mickey straight up.

David exited the bathroom, leaving her to make eye contact with her naked “cousin.” With an almost imperceptible nod, Mickey had her retreating in David’s wake.

“I know I should have mentioned that he needed a place to crash—”

“Your sisters were here, too, last night?”

“Yes.” She was grateful to be able to say it honestly. “For a while.” She held her breath.

David took in the perfectly made bed, her clean floor, her clothes hanging for work—all the signs of her orderly life. Slowly, his shoulders dropped to a more natural angle. “And your father hasn’t been here?”

“Cosmo? Oh, no. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Although she was beginning to wonder if David was blind, worrying more about her aging father than about the virile man in her shower.

Mickey chose that moment to stride into their conversation, the damp towel wrapped around his waist. He smelled of soap and humidity, his wet hair curling around his ears in the most intriguing way. But it was the defined arms and chest, the way his ribs tapered to a tight six-pack with the knotted towel riding low on his hips, that had her all but salivating.

Her perfect engagement was about to go up in flames, and she was fantasizing about a two-bit jewel thief. She needed to have her head examined.

“Rissie, thanks for the shower, sweetheart. After camping for the past few days, I really needed a soak in some hot water.”

David stared the other man down.

“No problem, Mickey. Just let me know the next time you plan to do a camping trek this way.” Hell, now she was lying right along with him.

David turned on her, no longer bewildered. In fact, she almost felt for a pulse. “Iris, I’m going to the club. I take it you have to work today?”

Behind him, Mickey nodded emphatically.

She spread her hands. “Yes. There were so many interruptions yesterday—”

“No need to explain.” He pecked her on the cheek. “I’ll call you tonight.” Turning on Mickey, he offered a hand like the consummate politician he was. “You’re not staying another night, are you?”

“Oh, I couldn’t. Really,” Mickey lied as he shook hands. Smooth didn’t even begin to describe him.

She walked David to the front door, where he stopped to take her hands. “Everything all right?” he asked.

She nodded, afraid to find any words.

He squeezed her fingers. “We really need to figure out what to do about your family. They can’t keep showing up like this, Iris.” Without acknowledging her guest, he left.

Iris clicked the door shut behind him, her pulse lowering to a level below complete coronary.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Mickey said behind her.

She spun to face him. He was still wearing the damned towel. “David is a gentleman. He’s honest and fair, and he trusts me and—”

Mickey laughed, none too kindly. “He doesn’t trust you. He was scared to death of me. The guy’s not willing to fight for you, tiger. What does that say about him?”

“He doesn’t need to fight for me. I would never leave him.”

“Oh ho, talk about lying eyes.” His blue eyes sparkled at her. “First off, that man needs to fight to keep you from every lying, cheating, no-good grifter like me who would try to steal you. And you? You sell yourself short. David just dissed you.”

A bark of laughter erupted from her. “What—was he supposed to pummel you with his fists? He thinks you’re my cousin.”

“Either you’re deluded, or he’s an idiot.” Mickey strode toward her. “He was afraid to take me on, a naked unarmed man. Believe me, if I found you with a naked man, armed or otherwise, I’d toss the guy out on his ass, and then—” he pulled her into a clinch, nothing separating them but her flimsy bathrobe and his wet towel.

Iris drew in a shocked breath, her heart thundering, but couldn’t tear her gaze from his.

His eyes traveled over her face, pausing briefly on her lips, caressing her hair, and finally locking once more with her eyes. “And then, I’d take you to bed and spend the next twenty-four hours reminding you why you’d never want to leave it for another’s.”

Her whole body warmed at his words. Without a doubt, all she had to do was pull his lips down to hers, and that’s exactly how they’d spend the next twenty-four hours.

Iris mentally shook herself. This was precisely what she’d been fighting against for years, these urges to surrender to wild temptations without thought to the consequences. But life was full of consequences, and she needed stability, calm, dependability. Needed? No, craved.

She pushed away from Mickey. “I love David.”

Mickey’s jaw stiffened. “Stop lying to him, Iris. Better yet, stop lying to yourself.”

“How dare you accuse me of lying!”

“As the saying goes, ‘Your lips may say no, no, but there’s yes, yes in your eyes.’”

“Stay out of my personal life.” She shouldered past him, desperate to wrap her hands around another cup of coffee. Anything to prevent her fingers from burrowing into his damp hair.

Mickey grabbed her upper arm. “I’m all over your personal life. Do you want to see Cosmo alive again or not? Cuz I could do without another trip to the morgue.”

Iris stilled, her jaw slack. “What?”

“Whoever masterminded this theft has been killing off everyone in the pipeline.”

“Yeah?” She eyed him suspiciously. “Why are you still alive?”

He threw her one of those devilish smiles. “I’m not part of the pipeline. I’m more of an errand boy.”

“Errands as in delivering things?”

“More like dispatching things.”

That irritated—and frightened—her enough to walk away from him toward the kitchen. “Did you really hold Cosmo at gunpoint and threaten to kill him?” She turned to see his eyes had widened. Hell, he’d done it. Disappointment crashed upon her.

Mickey followed her so slowly it amounted to a creep. “When did you talk to him?”

“Who?”

“Come off it.” His syllables were clipped and flippant, a far cry from the purring sensuality that normally poured out of him. “Cosmo—no one else was there.”

“Edgar was there.” Iris raised her brows at him.

“Yeah, like you’re getting the four-one-one from a rabbit. For the record, threatening and killing are two very different things. I never intended to kill Cosmo.” He refilled his coffee cup before stalking back out of the kitchen. “I’m going to get dressed.”

About time. But she didn’t say it out loud. She stood alone and waited, the air-conditioned tile chilling her bare feet until she pulled her bathrobe more closely around her. She hated this feeling of being strong, completely independent, self-reliant to a fault. It was so solitary, so final. But she wasn’t about to look to a man like Mickey to help her out.

After a minute he returned, mostly dressed, though his fly was still unzipped as he buttoned his shirt.

“Mickey, I’m not cut out for espionage. I hate lies and secrets. I’ve got it bad enough with Cosmo, I don’t need to look for more trouble. I think you should find someone else to help you track down your missing gems.”

Mickey’s fingers stopped buttoning, leaving his shirt open from his ribcage up, revealing that broad muscled chest that made her mouth salivate, her eyes want to weep, and her inhibitions start to pack their bags.

But life wasn’t about fantasies. It was real. Concrete. She intended to stay grounded, not fly off on some fool’s errand that could potentially derail her carefully mapped-out future. She wanted reliable David, so sane and sensible. Someone she could count on, someone who understood her and looked out for her interests. Someone safe. Mickey might be more colorful, more passionate, but how could she expect anything but heartache from a man who practically brandished a sign proclaiming My Middle Name Is Danger.

He’d fallen silent. She stole a glance, expecting to see him brooding in that moody way of his.

He’d cast all artifice aside. Before her stood a man who appraised her with the most open, honest clarity in his blue eyes. Finally, he frowned. “I’m sorry you want out, Iris, because that’s impossible. Like it or not, you’re integral to this deal. You have the answers.”

“To what?” she asked in exasperation.

“That’s the trick. We have to find the right questions.” He tugged some folded papers from his back pocket. “Last night I didn’t know what kind of gems had been stolen, but after talking with you, I was able to check with some sources—”

“What sources?”

“I can’t tell you, but trust me, these people know their business. We don’t mean Cosmo any harm—in fact, we hope to help him. But he didn’t give us much information. Did you know he’d flown to Russia?”

“Cosmo? To Russia?” Iris’s heart listed and sank.

“Moscow and St. Petersburg. He met with a man named Konstantin Vanislav, who’s well connected with the Russian mafia. Ever heard of him?”

She shook her head, unable to speak. Apparently, she knew even less about Cosmo than she’d feared.

Mickey unfolded the papers and held them out to her. “Tell me what that is.”

Gingerly, she accepted them. The top one showed a badly photocopied color picture of what appeared to be a crown. Beneath it was a sketch of the same crown with handwritten notations scribbled upon it.

The handwriting was Cosmo’s.

She turned back to the picture. A royal crown, cast in gold, lay on a blue velvet pillow. Built to fit a man’s head, the intricate spires rose in filigreed elegance. Around the base, jewels encrusted the brim. The copy only showed them as a dark blood red, so she referred to her father’s notes, while her stomach rolled uneasily.

Cosmo’s notations confirmed her worst suspicions. She dared to look at Mickey. He’d seated himself in an overstuffed chair to don his boots, but even as he tugged them on, he watched her with barely concealed expectation. He wanted her to congratulate him, she could tell from the raised brow, the badly hidden smile. It would serve him right to get a dose of reality.

“There’s no proof this crown was ever made. No one’s even sure whether these stones exist.”

“But your mother believed they were real,” he said, sitting up. “Tell me the whole story, Iris.”

Sinking onto the sofa, she ran a hand through her messy curls, her gaze fixed on the picture. Her mother’s lovely contralto voice, rich with its native Russian accent, played from her memory banks. She knew the story by rote.

“Alexandrite was first discovered when Alexander II was the prince of Russia, the son of the current czar. By the time he came to power in 1856, the original vein of alexandrite was already depleted. Count Perovskii, who helped identify this new stone and name it, gave some large stones to the Romanovs. But it’s also said that for Alexander’s coronation, a special crown was forged from rose gold and platinum then inlaid with ten alexandrite gems with a total carat weight of over a hundred carats. While the stones weren’t uniform in size or cut, they all came from one single stone, so they matched each other flawlessly in clarity and color. They belonged together, like a family.” That message sank into her today. She lifted her eyes to meet Mickey’s steady gaze.

“Was the crown worn? Displayed? Anything?”

“No one knows. Its very existence is doubtful. The story goes that the crown was commissioned, the stones were cut, but no photo archives of Alexander’s coronation show him wearing a crown that matches this description. Apparently, tradition won out over the beauty of these new gems and crown design.”

Mickey frowned. “Then where did Cosmo get this photo of the crown?”

“It’s pretty easy to doctor a photo these days, especially for a master of illusion.” Iris raised her brows at him.

Mickey cursed softly. “Any idea where the crown is today?”

She let out a controlled breath. “According to the myth, the crown no longer exists. My mother told me the Romanovs were a picky lot. When Alexander II’s grandson Nicholas took the throne, he dismantled the crown and had the gems reworked in a necklace for his wife Alexandra. The necklace was a gift to celebrate the birth of their son in 1904.”

Mickey rubbed his temples as if his head ached. “Okay. So, we’re not looking for a crown. We’re looking for a necklace.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? What the hell happened next?”

“The Bolshevik Revolution.”

Chapter Seven

He was so fucked.

Mickey opened his eyes to squint at Iris and idly wondered if she had any idea she was torturing him more with that flimsy bathrobe than with her wild stories about Russian czars and revolutionaries. He rubbed his temples some more, wishing he had that bottle of painkillers, but he’d left them in the car.

Focus. This crazy myth sounded exactly like the kind of bullshit story Cosmo would spin, but if there were any truth to it, Mickey needed to know. “Are you saying the Bolsheviks took the necklace?”

She shrugged, then thankfully smoothed out that pucker in her robe that had been granting him teasing glimpses of a rounded white breast. “According to my mom, the necklace could never be found. Alexandra was a granddaughter of Queen Victoria. As the revolution gained momentum, it’s said she sent the jewels to ten of her royal relatives throughout Europe. Years later, a small group of Russians started a search to acquire the ten gems and bring them back to their homeland.” She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. “It’s rumored they belong to a powerful family in the Russian mafia.”

Mickey watched her with fascination. She’d become positively vibrant as she spoke about this myth. Clearly, she didn’t want to believe it, yet it was real to her.

“If someone owned all ten stones, with or without the necklace, would they be worth ten million dollars?”

“And then some,” she said with a laugh. “These stones were believed to be flawless examples from the first find of alexandrite. Their link to the Romanovs increases their value. To have all ten as a set, even without the necklace, would be to own history.”

His headache started to recede. At last he was on the right track. “I need those ten stones if I’m going to help Cosmo. Not the real ones, but something close enough to buy us some time. Can you help me?”

Her lips parted in surprise, and hesitation clouded those brandy eyes of hers. After a moment, they became brilliant with determination. “How soon do you need them?”

“Honestly?” He laughed. “Two nights ago.”

“Well—” She put the papers on the table and adjusted her robe as she leaned back. Finally, she met his gaze again with a sheepish grin. “Not that I’d tell this to everyone, but my mother received copies of these gems years ago. I still have them.”

“Where’d she get them?”

“Her aunt sent them to her from Russia as a special gift. Now, they’re not real alexandrites, but they should look really close to these pictures.”

Mickey’s pulse revved. He might survive this assignment after all. “And they’ll change color and everything?”

Iris nodded. “They’re treated with a chemical called vanadium that causes the color to change under different types of light.”

“Will you give them to me? I’d say lend, but if something goes wrong, I might not be able to get them back.”

“What are you going to do with them?”

“I’m going to turn them over to my boss and hope like hell they buy me enough time to find Cosmo and the real gems.” The lie pricked his conscience. He really intended to use the gems to broker an introduction to Turner’s boss and capture them both. But that should still help keep her father alive. He reached for her hand. “There are risks here, Iris. These people are dangerous.”

She squeezed his fingers. “But you think you can save Cosmo?”

“Yeah.”

“Then come by my shop around ten. I’ll have the copies ready.”

Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “You’re the gem, you know that?”

She rose, flustered by his attention. “It’s what I do.”

Stiffly, he stood. Retrieving the papers, he prepared to leave, but one thing troubled him enough to make him stop. “Iris, there are others who work for my bosses. Someone else might show up and ask for the gems. Don’t trust them.”

She awarded him a gamin smile. “Like I trust you?”

Her bright smile was a sucker punch to his gut. “Don’t even trust me,” he said soberly.

***

It was nine o’clock when Iris arrived at the Bellagio and let herself into Lying Eyes. She’d called Ginny to give her the morning off, and Iris intended to use the next few hours wisely.

As she did every time she entered, she took a moment to survey her empire. With the lighting dimmed, the showroom was reduced to a minor twinkle instead of the loud sparkle it normally cast. Cubic zirconias masqueraded as the finest diamonds, while chrysoberyls of all colors portrayed rubies, sapphires and emeralds. A number of the lower-valued gems played themselves—topazes, garnets, amethysts and opals.

Alexandrite was so rare she’d never attempted to display the simulated copies she had. It would be too difficult to explain to people about the history and the color-changing magic.

A soft pounding on the store’s glass door shook her from the reverie.

“Iris!” a faint voice called.

She discovered Allie, dressed in black cargo pants and T-shirt, outside. The willowy blonde carried a cardboard box in her arms and a backpack flung over her shoulder.

Swallowing her frustration at this latest interruption, Iris hurried to the door. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Allie ducked her head at Iris’s tone. “I called your apartment, but when you didn’t answer, I got a feeling you’d be here.”

“And what’s Edgar doing here?” Iris made a conscious effort to soften her delivery.

It worked, drawing a slow smile from Allie. “He needs his aunt Iris. I got called into a brush-up rehearsal, and I didn’t want to leave him at my place all alone.”

“He’s a rabbit—”

“But he doesn’t like to be alone. You can understand that, can’t you?”

It wasn’t so much the words, but the way Allie said them that had Iris stepping back to let the blonde and the rabbit enter. Yes, dammit, she understood completely why someone wouldn’t like to be alone. How often had she been alone growing up, with her mother caught up here at the shop and Cosmo gallivanting wherever he pleased?

Allie walked without hesitation to the back room, where she placed the box on the floor. Her sinewy arms hauled the rabbit out and tucked him against her body. The rabbit nuzzled her neck. “He’s really the sweetest thing,” she said with a chuckle.

“Can Sweetie Pie Edgar stay in the box? I don’t want to be picking up any little gifts he chooses to leave.”

“You’ll be fine. He’s litter trained. I’ve got a box and some litter in the backpack.”

“You’re joking, right?” Iris didn’t believe in a litter-trained rabbit.

When Allie didn’t respond, Iris turned to find the blonde in one of those eye-to-eye communions with the rabbit.

A chill stole up Iris’s spine, but she downplayed it. “Now what’s he saying?”

Allie’s eyes never left the rabbit. “I get the sense that no matter what happens, he doesn’t want to be left behind. He needs to look after you.” Even she sounded puzzled.

“Don’t you mean I need to look after him?”

The blonde’s brow furrowed in concentration. “I don’t think so, but then, it’s an inexact science.”

I’ll bet. Iris still had to wonder if all the hocus-pocus with Edgar was some con Cosmo had taught Allie.

Allie considered her before adding softly, “Whatever it is you’re doing, be careful, sis.”

Iris laughed off her uneasiness. “Don’t worry. I’m doing a little work here, then I’m headed home for the rest of the day. I’ll take Edgar with me, but will you come get him before this evening?”

“Sure.” Allie lowered the rabbit to the floor. With a soft groan, she brushed at the white bunny hairs on her black shirt. “I should be done with rehearsal before two.”

“Sounds good.” Iris escorted her to the big glass doors.

Rummaging in one of the many pockets covering her pants, Allie withdrew a long piece of silver leather studded with dark red gems. “Edgar slipped out of this, and I couldn’t get it back on him to save my life.” She held it out. “Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

“Sure,” Iris lied. The poor animal was already living part of his life out of a cardboard box. She wasn’t going to force a collar on him, too. With a quick goodbye, she locked the doors after Allie left.

In the back room, she tossed the collar onto her worktable. Edgar explored beneath it, his ears swiveling this way and that. In case he made a sudden break for it, she closed the door to the sales floor before returning to the worktable, where she unzipped the backpack and found a small cat litter pan and a bag of some sort of new-age looking litter.

“You so owe me, Cosmo.” She placed the filled pan in the corner. “Bathroom’s over here, Eddy.”

The rabbit blinked its red eyes before resuming an exploratory hop around the workroom.

“Are you looking for something to eat? You should have told Allie if you were hungry—she would’ve fed you. Now you’ll have to wait until we go home.” She straightened and pushed a stray curl behind her ear. “Look at yourself, Iris Fortune. You’re talking to a rabbit.”

Determined to prove she could overcome all the chaos tossed her way in the past thirty-six hours, Iris straightened her cropped periwinkle jacket and smoothed her palms down the matching skirt. With the flick of a switch, she illuminated her worktable with bright lights then dug in her purse for a small set of keys. They jingled as she crossed the room to a set of fireproof filing cabinets. A total of fifty drawers lined the wall, all unlabeled, but Iris knew the contents of each and every one. This was where she kept the raw stones and metals for her jewelry pieces. Even though she didn’t deal in real diamonds, sapphires, pearls or emeralds, the value of these costume gems caused her insurance agent palpitations.

Unerringly, she inserted the key into drawer number thirty-three. She rarely opened this drawer as it only contained her limited copies of alexandrite and a stockpile of aurora borealis rhinestones. Inside, everything lay in place, just as it had the day before when she’d looked for signs of Cosmo tampering with her things. Gingerly, she withdrew the tray of alexandrite and carried it to the worktable.

On the tray rested a dozen or so loose stones, smaller gems she could incorporate into jewelry pieces—not that she’d ever needed them. There was also a square box Iris hadn’t opened for years, but now she lifted the lid to consider the high-quality copies within. Each close to ten carats, they were a family heirloom dating back to the 1920s when, according to her mother, her great-grandfather had cut them to resemble the Romanov gems.

Don’t ever sell these, Iris. So her mother had said time and again. But Iris knew her mother would have handed them over willingly to help Cosmo if he were in trouble.

Unshed tears blurred her eyes for a few moments. These ten stones had been her mom’s treasure. Iris had always believed the Romanov necklace, like the crown, was merely a myth, but if it did exist? Authentic stones like these would be priceless.

And Mom would have loved seeing them.

She tried to push the box away, but felt an extra drag to it. How odd. Exploring the white foam on which the stones lay, she discovered an uneven surface beneath them. Confused, she lifted a corner of the foam to find more gems beneath it. Adrenaline shot through her system as she removed the foam to reveal its hidden layer. Yesterday she’d examined the store to see if Cosmo had taken anything. It hadn’t occurred to her he might leave something here.

She set the white foam with the ten vanadium-treated stones aside. In the box lay a playing card.

The queen of diamonds.

“Dammit, Cosmo, where are you?” she whispered.

With the playing card rested ten more matching gems. Beneath the bright light of her worktable, they glowed a dark blood red, a little lighter than garnets. Four were ovals, another four were rectangles, and two were squares. But geometry didn’t begin to express the faceted edges that cast brilliant rainbows onto her wall, or the clarity of the stones.

A sudden thought made her scoop up the gems and carry them to the bathroom, so quickly, she nearly tripped over Edgar. Here, she flicked on the overhead light, its fluorescent tubes blinking to a bluish light. With a deep breath, she willed herself to look once more at the stones.

They’d turned an olive green. The color change added a dose of reality—in the myth, these alexandrite were supposed to change from vivid red to vivid green. Maybe daylight would make the green more pure. Still, there was no denying what she held. Her heart swelled with emotion. How her mother would have longed to see this day.

Edgar hobbled over to sniff her ankles while Iris stared at the gems, almost afraid to breathe. It was as if someone had made a fairy-tale come true and given her these magical, mystical, historical, terrible, cursed…stolen gems.

“He loves me so much, he left me a death wish,” she muttered when reality hit her.

Soberly, she carried the gems back to the table, pulled up her stool and sat, engrossed in them. Without taking time and setting up the refractometer, she couldn’t authenticate them as true alexandrite, but her brain screamed this was no scam. Focusing her light, she fitted a small magnifier to her eye to examine one of the gems. The blood-red stone offered incomparable clarity—even more amazing was the cut. Alexandrite was notoriously hard to cut into gems, tending to fracture on unexpected lines. One by one she examined the ten stones, only to admit these were the work of a superior craftsman. A shiver raced up her spine. If all her mother’s tales were true, her ancestor had cut these for royalty.

Were they truly from Czar Alexander’s crown? Had they then moved to the Empress Alexandra’s necklace? And how had Cosmo gotten hold of them?

With a start, she realized she needed to make a swift decision. She scanned the various gems before her again, then her gaze slid sideways to where Edgar’s silver collar with its fake red rubies lay. Biting her lip, she held one of the alexandrites up with the collar. Yes. She didn’t hesitate, afraid she’d talk herself out of the idea. With a pair of needle-nose pliers, she attacked the gem settings on the collar, deftly removing the lightweight fake rubies from their settings. These she tossed into a plastic cup on her table. A glance at the clock reminded her she had less than an hour before Mickey arrived.

While she’d like to trust him with her discovery, she didn’t dare. She’d give him her mother’s copies, just as he’d asked. This real alexandrite she’d hide on Edgar’s collar and hope an opportunity to help Cosmo presented itself.

With careful precision, she fitted the alexandrite gems one by one to the settings on the silver leather collar and soldered them in place. She worked quickly, sacrificing artistry to make sure none of the gems could accidentally fall out. When she finished, she hid all the clues to what she’d just done. She pocketed the playing card and started to throw away the plastic cup with its vivid red gems before she thought better of it. Someone might ask where they’d come from, so she stashed them into drawer forty-eight, which held a quantity of gaudy cheap stones. Last step of her plan, she hunted down Edgar and fitted the silver collar back onto his furry neck.

The rabbit shook his head at the unwelcome weight of the stones, but his beady red eyes watched her. For a moment, she swore he understood—and approved—her motives.

She was definitely losing it.

Scanning the workroom, she verified that she’d put everything back to order. She’d returned her own smaller imitation alexandrite back to drawer thirty-three. Edgar wore his same bejeweled collar. Or at least, that’s what anyone would think, so long as the rabbit didn’t go out into bright sunlight and make the stones turn green. All that remained on her worktable were her neatly organized tools and the ten vanadium-treated corundum she’d promised Mickey.

Soft footfalls on carpet made her turn to see the workroom door opening. She wasn’t surprised to see him. Honestly, the guy could sneak into a sealed box.

He must have stopped by his home, because he now wore dark jeans and a black T-shirt. Mirrored sunglasses perched atop his head. “I locked the front door behind me,” he said with that wicked smile of his. “Any luck?”

Iris swallowed her trepidation and steeled herself to lie. “Lots of it.” She refocused her lamp over her table. “Come see for yourself.”

He peered over her shoulder at the ten gems displayed on the table. Beneath the bright light, the red glowed as dark and rich as newly spilled blood.

“They’re so perfectly matched,” Mickey said.

“The original gems were all cut from one stone. They ended up roughly the same size, though there were some different shapes.”

“You’re sure these are worth ten million? I mean, if they were real?”

“And then some. With their cultural and historical significance, they could be worth twice that. The Russian government would probably kill to have the originals returned to them.”

“Well, what’s a few more killers after them?” Mickey scooped the gems into his hand. “Will they really turn color and everything?”

“Look at them under the bathroom light. It’s the closest I’ve got to natural daylight.”

Mickey carried the gems to the small bathroom and flicked the switch. “I’ll be damned.” He looked back out at her. “This isn’t natural?”

“Those are treated with vanadium, so it’s not as strong a change as real alexandrite, but so few people have ever seen real alexandrite—”

“Let’s hope our luck holds out.” Mickey dropped the gems into the velvet bag she held open. “They won’t chip in here, will they?”

“No, corundum has a high density factor. Like diamonds, they’re nearly impossible to chip.”

He drew the string on the bag, but before he tucked it into a pocket, he stopped. “I can’t thank you enough. You may have just saved my life.”

Warmth flooded Iris’s face. They’d be having a much different discussion if he ever found out she had the real gems. “They’re meant to save Cosmo.”

“I’ll do what I can.” He turned and practically tripped over Edgar. “Where did he come from?”

“Allie got called into a rehearsal.”

He stared down at the rabbit. “You know, that collar… I didn’t think to check it. You don’t suppose Cosmo would—”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I checked them already.” She hoped she didn’t sound like she was lying. To her relief, Edgar hopped away from the bathroom light toward the worktable.

Mickey watched her but didn’t seem to notice her words. “Thanks again for these.” He patted his pocket, but his eyes burned with that predatory intensity she found so alluring.

But kisses were out—she couldn’t risk involvement with someone she didn’t trust. And you’re engaged, remember? She retreated to her table where she realigned her tools. “You’re welcome. And if you—” No, as much as she wanted to tell him the truth, she couldn’t risk it. She swallowed again. “Call me if you find Cosmo.”

“First thing. You’ll have to lock me out.”

“Oh, right.” Apparently, he could break into places, just couldn’t break out.

She followed him across the sales floor and let him out the front door. Already traffic inside the casino was picking up, mostly tourists and seniors in shorts and T-shirts, baseball caps and sneakers. One older foreign gentleman wearing a caftan and turban perused the window displays. Somewhere in the casino, a slot machine paid out with a repetitive ching-ching-ching.

Iris once thought hitting a jackpot would always bring happiness, but now she knew money was only one small part of the equation. She’d give millions just to see Cosmo again. Catching herself daydreaming, she stepped back inside, closing and locking the door behind her.

She returned to the workroom to finish cleaning up. “Come on, Edgar. You can help with some paperwork until it’s time to open.” She looked around for the rabbit, but the back doorbell interrupted her.

“UPS,” called a male voice from beyond the door.

Of course they’d get here early today. Iris hadn’t thought about them because Ginny usually worked the early shift and dealt with deliveries. Prepared to warn the guy to watch where he might step, she went to the backdoor and unbolted the lock.

Immediately, the door was kicked open, nearly striking her in the face.

Too late, she recalled it was Sunday.

***

Justin waited in the backstage area at the MGM Grand. Despite his normally grounded perspective, he experienced a twinge of awe at the scope of the surroundings. The airspace soaring above the stage was filled with black drapes and dark lighting instruments. The exotic dance show they staged here was all about lights, music and bare female bodies.

He was relieved the female bodies hadn’t been invited to the technical rehearsal.

The problem was no one seemed to have been invited to the technical rehearsal. No one except Allie Fortune. And him.

A motion in the heavy draperies had him reaching for his weapon before he saw Allie slide from the darkness. Her black attire made it that much harder to track her in the darkened theater. The last thing he needed was to shoot an innocent civilian. Once was quite enough for his career.

He relaxed into a neutral posture as she approached. Her black running shoes squeaked across the wooden floor of the stage, disrupting the somber silence. A single light bulb on a short pole cast a puddle of light but made no impact on the shadows.

Frankly, the whole place gave him the creeps.

“Didn’t you say something about a rehearsal?”

She stopped before him, the light behind her casting a halo around her hair and silhouetting her lithe body. Justin swallowed and dragged his mind firmly back to business.

“I did,” she said. “But I lied.”

“You lied?”

Her features were difficult to read in this lighting, but she nodded.

“Why?” he asked.

Her gaze lifted to meet his. Dilated by the darkness, her pupils made her normally golden eyes look black. “Can I trust you?”

Justin hated that question. It was the most loaded question in history. Immediate responses triggered in his mind. Why? Are you guilty of something? What is it you need? They were all qualifiers, because no one could be openly trusted in all situations.

She watched him with those wide eyes.

He wondered again if she needed rescuing. A woman like Allie didn’t deserve crappy things happening in her life. He’d like to help her.

“Can I?” she gently prodded.

“Yes.” So much for qualifiers.

Her sudden warm smile paired with the halo around her golden hair made him think of angels and all the good things in the world. “I thought so. I knew you were on Daddy’s side.”

“But I need to uphold the law—”

“You said you didn’t think Daddy had done anything wrong. You needed him for questioning. And I want to find him. I’m worried that he’s in real trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?” As casually as possible, he took her arm and turned her so half her face was lit by that one glowing light.

She hung her head, eyes downcast. “I don’t know. Daddy always told me about his projects, his plans, his crazy schemes, but in the past couple months he’s been unnaturally silent. Kept telling me to move on with my school, my career.”

“Do you think he told your sisters anything?”

That made her lift her head. “Maybe. Did you know Cory and I went to Iris’s last night?”

“Yes.” He knew because Mickey had told him while they were at the morgue. Probably best not to let her know that little tidbit.

“Thanks for telling the truth.” She turned her head to scan the expansive theater as if danger lurked in the shadows.

His senses alert, Justin started when an air conditioner kicked on. Exhaling, he said, “Allie, tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m narking on them. I mean, this is bigger than telling tales out of school, right? Daddy could be in real danger.”

He nodded.

“Then I need to do everything I can to help him. And I think you stand a better chance of finding him then they do.”

“They who?”

“My sisters.”

Chapter Eight

Iris jumped back, barely avoiding the door as it slammed against the wall. A man roughly twice her size barreled in and grabbed her arm. She tried to scream, but he muffled her mouth, nose, and most of her eyes with his other hand.

A shadow entered behind him. “Gently, Pebbles. We may need answers from her.” A wiry guy stuck his ferret face into hers. “You Iris Fortune?”

She nodded, too scared to breathe.

“No screaming. We just have a couple questions for you.” He nodded to the big Pebbles guy, who removed his hand from her mouth.

“What do you want?” Iris whispered.

“We’re friends of Mickey’s,” Ferret Face said.

She wasn’t sure which troubled her more—the idea that he was lying, or the thought that he might be telling the truth. What if Mickey had sent them here to take care of her?

Pebbles gave a rumbling chuckle. “Hey, look, Jock, there’s the bunny.”

Edgar hopped from beneath the table right to Pebble’s size-eighteen Nikes. The big guy hunkered down to pet him.

“So Mickey brought you the bunny. Well, Miss Fortune, does that mean you already gave him the stones?”

Iris’s gaze swiveled from the rabbit to Pebbles to Jock. Would it be that easy to get rid of these guys? “Yes. You just missed him. Mickey left here about ten minutes ago with the, um, gems.” In case these two didn’t know about the alexandrite, she didn’t want to name what type of stone Mickey had.

“Smart girl. This will make things much easier.” Jock took her arm, none too gently. “Let’s get your things.”

Iris struggled. For his size, he had a heck of a grip. “I answered your questions.”

“Yes, you did. And if you keep cooperating, everything will be fine. If you don’t, someone’s gonna get hurt.”

Determined to escape, she balled her free hand into a fist, but her captor caught her wrist before she could strike him.

“Someone, meaning you.” His gold tooth flashed in what passed for a smile. “We’re going to take a little trip, Miss Fortune. Hey, I like that—Miss Fortune—sorta says it all.”

“Can we take the bunny this time?” Pebbles asked. He’d already picked the rabbit up and was cradling him like a baby in his arms. At the moment, the giant looked far less dangerous.

“He’ll be too much trouble.”

Watching Edgar, Iris swore he looked right at her, as if to remind her not to leave him behind. If nothing else, she wanted to keep a sharp eye on that collar. She sure didn’t need Edgar winding up in an animal shelter wearing ten million around his neck.

“There’s a box here for him,” she said. “If we leave him here, my assistant will know right away that something’s happened to me.”

Jock’s eyes narrowed on her as he considered her words. “Right. Get your purse and your keys. We’ll go out the service door.” He followed as she gathered her things with shaky fingers. “Pebbles, put the bunny in that box. I don’t want anyone seeing him. He’ll draw too much attention to us.”

Thank heavens. She didn’t need that collar changing colors in the bright sunlight outside.

She thought about making an escape attempt but knew she didn’t stand a chance against these two. Jock had a gun stuffed in the waistband of his slacks—something she’d learned to look for after being around Mickey for less than forty-eight hours.

“What are you going to do with me?” she asked as they stepped into the hallway. Maybe she could make a run for it in the parking lot.

“No worries,” Jock said. “You’ll be our guest until Mickey delivers the goods. Then we’ll arrange a little reunion for you and our friend Mickey boy.”

His snide laugh lit a fuse to sheer panic. Would anyone notice if she disappeared? Would it matter to them? She hadn’t made herself vital to Cosmo, and she’d held her new sisters at arms’ length. She’d given Mickey what he wanted. Even David would probably be better off without her. She was completely unimportant.

What a horrible revelation.

***

Cosmo pumped another nickel into the slot machine while he waited. He didn’t bother with the buttons, but used the lever on the side, even though the billowing caftan he wore made it awkward. He’d darkened his skin with stage makeup, so even the backs of his hands were an unfamiliar pale brown. His tongue rubbed at the fake gold cap he’d used to cover a front tooth.

Iris had noticed him peering at her jewelry displays, but she hadn’t consciously recognized him. As dangerous as it was to see her, he felt it was best if he reclaimed the alexandrites he’d dropped off here the other night.

He suspected she’d found them, but he knew in his heart she wouldn’t give them to Mickey. If she’d given him anything, it would be the imitations Irina’s family had sent years ago. They were good copies, but vanadium-treated corundum wouldn’t fool Donovan’s people for long.

Rooting out his wallet, he fed a five-dollar bill into the machine, prepared to play as long as necessary. Hopefully, Iris wasn’t planning on putting in a full day. He pulled the lever and watched the wheels again. An elderly lady in a bright pink rhinestone-studded jogging suit walked down the aisle of mostly empty machines then returned to sit beside him. She stuck her player’s card in the machine and fed it a twenty. Gardenia perfume mixed with the fog of cigarette smoke, making Cosmo long for a Coke and a little fresh air. But he didn’t want to risk missing Iris.

It was time he spoke to her. She deserved that and much more. If anything happened to him, he wanted her to know the truth.

After another half hour, Ginny, Iris’s young shop assistant, arrived and unlocked the door. She relocked the doors from the inside and disappeared into the back. He waited while the store’s bright lights lit up like the Strip. Ginny returned to prop open the big glass doors.

Still no Iris. Cosmo abandoned his machine and wandered over to the store. His late wife, Irina, had loved this shop more than home. Now, Iris had followed in her footsteps.

He nodded to Ginny when she greeted him in her chirpy voice. Methodically, he walked the entire store, perusing every case, listening for any sound of life from the back room. Within two minutes, his sixth sense told him no one else was here besides him and Ginny.

Iris had disappeared on him.

***

On her day off, the last thing Cory wanted to do was hang out at a casino, especially not the smaller, more claustrophobic ones up on Fremont Street. At least they wouldn’t be overcrowded in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. Even some of the street vendors had chosen not to open up during the hottest part of the day. The neighborhood was pretty empty, except for some tourists who hadn’t figured out the desert’s high heat and low humidity sucked the moisture right out of your body.

Cory looked up at the sign for the Four Queens, its colored light bulb garishness standing out even in the bright afternoon. Papa hadn’t pulled those queens out of her deck yesterday by chance. He’d shown her three, but she knew there was a fourth queen in his world.

A queen she’d hoped never to face again.

With a deep breath, she gripped the brass door handle, prepared to do what she must to help her father.

“Cory!” A shout came from across the street.

She shaded her eyes and turned to see Allie and—what the hell was she doing with Hunter? And why were they here, now? She released her hold on the door with a groan and met them as they crossed the street to her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked them.

“Trying to find Daddy. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Cory clamped her lips shut.

Hunter gave an apologetic nod. “You did tell me yesterday you had reason to believe this would be a good place to look for someone who might know his whereabouts.”

“And did you bring Allie, or did Allie bring you?”

Allie’s face immediately flushed with guilt. “I brought him, okay? I admit it, I told him about you seeing Daddy yesterday.”

Cory bit back a curse as she shot a glance at the detective. To his credit, he looked as uncomfortable as Allie did right now. Tossing her curls back over her shoulder, Cory considered her younger sister again. Apparently, their father hadn’t managed to teach the girl honor.

“Think whatever you want of me, but I want Daddy safe. I’ll use whatever means necessary.”

Cocking her head, Cory raised her brow at her sister before nodding at Hunter. “So he’s just a means to find Papa.”

The detective flushed, and Cory experienced a momentary pang at the thought that maybe he’d developed a thing for Allie. “Not so fun to have the tables turned on you, is it, Detective?”

He squinted through the bright sun at her. “Do you know where your father is, or don’t you?”

“I don’t.” She folded her arms in emphasis.

Hunter folded his arms as if she’d challenged him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you and Iris grew up sharing a bedroom. You’re so much alike it’s scary.”

“Iris!” Allie gasped behind him.

Cory and Hunter both turned, but Allie was rooting in her pants pockets. She finally came up with a cell phone then lifted her head to confront their scrutiny. “I need to call her. I told her I’d pick Edgar up at two.” She stepped into the shade of the building where she could see her phone’s screen better.

This left Cory brewing in the hot sun, still watching Hunter.

And Hunter watching her. “Allie thinks you’re still keeping secrets,” he said, low voiced.

“I’m not going to spill my life to her the first day we meet.” Cory pushed her heavy hair off her neck. “Would you?”

“Fair enough. So what brings you to Fremont Street?”

“Is that a personal or professional question, Detective?” Instinctively, her defenses came up.

“We’ll keep it personal, for now.” He smiled a lazy grin that somehow made his whole demeanor more approachable.

Maybe Allie was on to something, Cory thought.

“Just think of me as a friend of the family.”

Family was precisely what she was already having too many problems with. “I was planning to meet someone, but if you and Allie are going to rope me into some crazy matinee quest for Cosmo—”

Hunter seemed to have stopped listening but looked past her to the Four Queens entrance. “I thought you said Cosmo met his poker playing buddies at the Golden Gate.”

“He does, but he’s much more likely to meet them at three in the morning than at three in the afternoon.” Cory became conscious of perspiration beading on her forehead as Hunter’s narrowed gaze honed in on her.

“So is he sleeping here?”

Her patience snapped. “Why won’t you believe me? I don’t know where Papa is. Why don’t you go ask Iris? You say there are jewels involved. She’s the jeweler.” Cory raked her loose curls back with a frustrated growl.

Allie stepped back to them. “We could ask Iris, except…”

“Except what?” Cory snapped.

Allie pursed her lips as if she really didn’t want to tell either of them. “Except I can’t get a hold of her. You don’t suppose anything’s wrong, do you?”

***

Mickey moved with the throng of tourists walking along the Strip toward the afternoon’s first pirate show at Treasure Island. He hated these kinds of drops, but as the errand boy, he didn’t get a say in how he delivered the goods. He’d hand over the imitation stones then tail whoever made the pickup from him. He hoped to track down the mastermind of this theft, a man now ordering the deaths of everyone involved.

His phone vibrated in his jeans pocket. Cursing under his breath, he checked the number.

It was Hunter. Mickey stepped out of the line of foot traffic and put the phone to his ear. “This better be important.”

“Allie Fortune thinks Iris and Edgar have disappeared.”

This stopped him in his tracks. “Disappeared? Why would she think that?”

“Allie was supposed to pick up Edgar this afternoon, but now there’s no sign of Iris. She’s not at Lying Eyes, she’s not at her apartment, she hasn’t answered her cell or returned any message.”

Mickey bit back another curse. He’d been so sure he’d read Iris right, but had she fooled him? Even now, was she skipping town with the real alexandrite? “Wait, you said Edgar’s missing, too?”

“Yeah. Is Edgar important?”

It took Mickey a moment to figure out Hunter wasn’t talking to him. Allie must still be with him.

Why would Iris take that carnivorous rabbit with her? Unless she was meeting up with Cosmo. She didn’t have a soft spot for the bunny, but the magician did.

“You there?” Hunter asked. “Did she say anything to you?”

“No. Look, I have to get back to work here, you know?”

“Fine. We’ll try to track her down. Check in later.”

“As soon as I can.” Mickey snapped the phone shut. Dammit! He’d been taken in by a common grifter and his sirenlike daughter. And here he was holding stones she’d given him, counting on them to buy him time. What if Iris didn’t want him to have any time? What if she’d set him up?

Another of his telltale headaches whispered at the back of his neck, but he did his best to ignore it as he withdrew the velvet pouch from his pocket. He looked around at the bustling tourists, all eager to get out of the late afternoon sun. No one was paying any attention to him as he opened the bag and drew one stone out.

It was green. It wasn’t a pure green, but rather a muddy olive green. But it sure as hell wasn’t red like when he’d put the stones in the bag back at Iris’s shop. The color change was more pronounced in the daylight than under the fluorescent light of the bathroom.

Maybe this would work to buy him some time. Enough that he could now find Cosmo and Iris. And when he did, he’d hand them both over to the authorities. No looking back.

Mickey dropped the stone back into the bag and cinched it tight before pocketing it. Moving back into the flow of tourists, he trudged another block until he stood mashed in like a sardine with sweaty bodies. Swimsuit tops, loud T-shirts, billed caps, yard-long tiki drinks. God love people on vacation. They’d all stopped to watch a pirate ship and a crew of scantily dressed sirens stage a mock battle in a small lagoon near the sidewalk.

Like so much of the free public entertainment along the Strip, the show was designed to lure people into this casino. Stop, watch the show, come in, cool off, use a bathroom, drop a dollar in a slot machine, buy a drink… In an interior with no windows, no clocks, one could lose all concept of time. Inside the casinos, Vegas was a never-ending party. For some, it was heaven. For others, pure hell.

Mickey scanned the faces in the crowd, searching for a likely contact. Turner’s lackeys all shared a similar vacuous look—smarter than Pebbles but not as conniving as Jock. They’d obviously learned to obey orders and never ask questions. But no one here fit that description.

The disjointed murmuring of the crowd rolled into a cheer as a pirate appeared on the tall mast near the traditional skull-and-crossbones flag. Cameras flashed and whirred as all eyes turned to the unfolding battle.

“Have you got them?” a male voice whispered close to Mickey’s ear.

Danger signals sparked like static electricity along his spine, but Mickey didn’t allow himself to flinch. Flinching was a sign of weakness. In this game, every time you showed a weakness, you came one step closer to death.

“Who wants to know?” he said.

“Don’t get cocky with me, you SOB. Come on.”

Mickey turned to watch the man cut a swath through the crowd. This guy was no lackey. He was over fifty, his thinning hair going elegantly gray around the temples. He was medium height, average build, trim for his age, and his stride exuded power, control. Khaki chinos and a dress shirt gave him a casual air, but it was clear he expected to be obeyed.

Puzzling over this, Mickey followed. They worked their way to a driveway where a stretch limo waited. A chauffeur hopped out to open the door for the older man, who climbed in.

More danger signals went off. Even though dozens of witnesses would watch him get into that vehicle, no one would think it odd when it pulled away. And there was no way of knowing what would happen to Mickey once inside. But answers awaited him in there, and he’d risk his life for those answers.

***

Cosmo reminded himself that Marko Gorseyev was bound to show up in Las Vegas. The question had always been when.

Fortunately, he’d been forewarned of the answer via a brief text message. Honestly, if Houdini had carried a BlackBerry, his wife wouldn’t have needed to hold all those séances to try and contact him after he died.

But what the hell had inspired Marko to bring his brother, his nephew, and his battle-ax aunt along, Cosmo couldn’t pretend to guess.

Still, one always faced the firing squad. Best not to try to escape it.

“Cosmo!” Marko’s boisterous voice rang out across McCarran Airport’s lofty baggage claim area.

Behind him, young Sergei pushed his diminutive great-aunt in her wheelchair. What she lacked in size, she more than made up in lung power. “Cosmo Fortune, where are my gems?”

Cosmo’s eyes shifted around, but no security guards were taking any notice of them. Apparently, if the police believed Cosmo had flown out of the city, it hadn’t occurred to them that he’d be stupid enough to fly back in.

He was beginning to question his own stupidity about now. He’d lost track of the Gorseyev stones, he’d lost track of Edgar, he’d lost track of Iris—how was he supposed to explain all that to his international relatives?

Simple. He’d avoid the topic entirely.

“Marko, you old Russian goat!” Cosmo marched forward to wrap the big man in a welcoming hug, complete with kisses on both cheeks. “So glad you came. All of you.” He nodded to the whole group.

“You are?” Marko asked.

“No need to be suspicious.” He hoped he’d hit the right tone of injured pride. “It’s high time you experienced Las Vegas. Do we need help with the bags?”

Marko craned his neck to watch Viktor bringing up the rear with a pushcart overloaded with luggage. “No, we’re fine. Can you help us find a taxi?”

“All taken care of. And I booked you a suite over at the Bellagio.”

“Not necessary. We found inexpensive rooms at a place called…” He snapped his fingers as if it would help him remember.

“The Stratosphere,” Sergei answered.

“No, no, no.” Cosmo ruffled his hair then tried to smooth it back into place. “You flew all the way here, at least let me pay for your room. The Bellagio is where Iris’s shop is. You’ll want to see it.”

Tatiana slammed a hand down on the armrest of the wheelchair. “I do want to see it. And I want to see Iris. And I want my gemstones back!”

Marko pinched his eyes shut then opened one to peer at Cosmo. “She is tired.”

“Long trip?” Cosmo asked quietly.

“You have no idea.”

“Come on, then. I’ve got a cab waiting outside. Let’s get you to the hotel, and then we can sit and chat all night.” He rested a hand on Marko’s shoulder and guided him toward the exit, trusting the rest of the entourage to follow.

As floor space opened up, Sergei pushed the wheelchair abreast of them. “How did you know to meet us?”

Cosmo pursed his lips and slid a sidelong look at the lad. Misdirection. Nicely done. His relatives would never guess Sergei had text messaged him before they’d boarded the plane in St. Petersburg. He’d always thought the lad was clever. Watching Sergei now, all that blond hair, the almost silver eyes, that air of tragic former Russian nobility about him, Cosmo worried he might have to keep a sharper eye on him.

He had heartbreaker written all over him. Iris was too mature for him. Cory wasn’t likely to be susceptible to his charms. But Allie would see that quiet, downtrodden look Sergei had mastered, and she’d feel the need to save him.

“Yes, how did you know?” Marko echoed.

“I’ve still got connections.” Cosmo waved his hand as if that answered everything. He led them outside to the waiting cab—a minivan that provided enough room for all of them, the pile of luggage, even the wheelchair. Refusing Viktor’s help, the driver loaded the bags in the rear. Cosmo stepped back as Marko and Sergei helped raise Tatiana from the wheelchair and all but lifted her into the van’s middle seat with a good deal of groaning and the occasional muttered curse. Grabbing the wheelchair, Cosmo pushed it along to the driver to load.

When he returned to the wide-open side door, his extended family all sat. Marko and Viktor looked a little crunched in the far back. Sergei had taken the seat closest to the door next to his great-aunt. “We left the seat up front for you,” he said. Then he winked.

“Thanks.” Cosmo gripped the van’s sliding door, his fingers slipping along the edge until they found—and flicked on—the child safety lock. That should slow them all down. He slammed the door shut, then opened the front passenger door. By this time, the cab driver was climbing into his seat.

Like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Why don’t you all go to the hotel and relax for a while. I’ll stop by in the morning.”

“I don’t want to wait until morning. I want my gemstones now,” Tatiana said from her seat.

“Tomorrow,” Cosmo said easily. “I’ll bring Iris by, too.” If he was able to track her down by then. Iris or Tatiana’s jewels, he had to find one of them by tomorrow morning, or he’d be ducking Irina’s relatives the whole time they were in town.

He turned to the driver. “Conduzca a el Bellagio.”

With a nod, the driver cranked the van.

“Cosmo, stop this. Get in.”

“’Til tomorrow then.” Cosmo shut his door and waved as the taxi driver pulled away from the curb. He could see Viktor pulling on the back door of the van, but the child-safety lock wouldn’t allow anyone to open it from the inside.

Whistling the opening notes of “White Room,” Cosmo stepped into the queue to catch a cab for himself. He suspected Marko, Viktor and Tatiana were all yelling at that poor cabbie to turn around. But they’d have to make a complete circuit of the airport, and by that time, Cosmo would be long gone.

Chapter Nine

Mickey sighed at the sight of the limo’s white interior. White leather implied no one intended to shoot him here. At least he had that going for him.

Chilled air blasted his hot skin as he climbed in and sat across from his host. Behind him, the chauffeur closed the car door with a solid thud.

“Do you know who I am, Mr. Kincaid?” his host asked.

“Would you be Mr. Turner?”

The man’s smile showed even rows of white teeth, and the crinkles around his eyes and lips hinted that he was, in general, happier than the average hit man tended to be. “You flatter me,” he said. “I’m Turner’s boss.”

Mickey tensed. So this was the guy who’d ordered the hits. “Pleased to meet you, Mr.…” He offered his hand.

The man looked down his nose at Mickey’s hand in midair. “You can call me boss.”

“Right.” He let his hand drop.

“Let’s see the stones.”

Mickey withdrew the pouch and handed it over without a word.

The Boss opened it, an eager glint lighting his pale eyes. Withdrawing a gem, he considered its dark red color, turning the stone over and over in his hand. He rolled down the limo’s tinted window and held the gem up to the evening’s remaining sunshine.

Mickey held his breath.

As if by magic, the gem turned olive green.

“I understand you traded a rabbit for these gems.” The Boss rolled the remaining stones out of the pouch onto a tray on his lap.

“That’s right. Of course, there’s no way for me to know if they’re real or not. That’s what I was given.”

“By Fortune’s daughter?”

Mickey shifted uneasily. Just how much did this guy know about Iris? Still it wasn’t much of a leap from Cosmo to his costume jeweler daughter. She might be just as guilty as her dad in this whole disappearance thing, but Mickey still felt a need to protect her.

“Yeah, Iris Fortune gave them to me. She said she got them from her father. That’s what Cosmo told me, too.”

“Before you…dealt with him.”

The words were said with such cold calculation, it made Mickey’s skin crawl. This guy didn’t think of people as people. They were nothing more than assets and liabilities on a balance sheet that tallied up to ten million.

Mickey crossed his ankle onto his knee, spreading himself out to take up more of the space. “Yeah, well, Cosmo was becoming a royal pain in the ass.”

The Boss pursed his lips, but his eyes crinkled around the corners. “We’re agreed on that, Mr. Kincaid. I appreciate you taking care of him.”

“Whatever Turner tells me to do.”

“Good, because his daughter is our…guest right now, and we’re not sure what to do with her quite yet. We may need you to deal with her.”

Each word struck him like a blow. Iris hadn’t left. She’d been taken. With an effort, he continued playing his role. Petty thug Mickey Kincaid was his best cover at this point. “I could do that. You know, if you need.”

“Not sure yet. I’ll have to see whether these are real or not.”

“That’ll take you, what, a day or two?” Mickey asked. The words were nonchalant, but his insides were heaving. Hell, if he’d thought they’d grab her, he wouldn’t be here making the drop.

The Boss chuckled. “More like an hour or two, tops. I have a jeweler waiting to appraise these now. You see, I believe in hedging all my bets.”

“That’s a good idea in this town.”

“Isn’t it. Good day, Mr. Kincaid.”

On cue, the car door opened. “Have a great evening, Boss.” Mickey stepped out, no fuss, no rush. The pirate show was culminating in a crescendo of cannon fire, the mast of the ship breaking in half.

Behind him, the limo pulled away, the sound swallowed by the cheers of the crowd. Mickey turned to look after it as it turned south on Las Vegas Boulevard. There wasn’t any way to get its license plate without being obvious.

Obvious could get a guy killed.

He strolled back into the crowd, keeping one eye on the limo until it pulled completely out of sight. Dammit—he knew involving a woman in this deal would shoot it all to hell. Now he had less than two hours to find where one of Turner’s lackeys had stashed Iris. That whisper of a headache began to pound, but Mickey forced it from his thoughts by sheer will.

Turner had a network of at least half a dozen guys like Mickey—errand boys who did all sorts of tasks from the mundane to the murderous. Well-paid loners who, if they screwed up, were expendable.

Then it hit him that Hunter had said Edgar was missing, too. A sarcastic laugh escaped as Mickey shook his head. There were only two guys on Turner’s payroll stupid enough to kidnap a rabbit.

Mickey whipped out his cell phone and waited impatiently for his call to connect. “I think I know where Iris is, and I’m going after her.”

“Do you need help?” Hunter asked in a low voice.

Mickey considered the offer. After all, Iris’s safety was paramount. “No. This situation is best played quickly and alone. But keep an eye on Cosmo’s other daughters. If someone went after Iris, they might send someone after the other two.”

“Will do. Be careful.”

Mickey stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Be careful. He’d said those words to Brian each time his little brother had gone on duty. A talisman that hadn’t protected him in the end.

Guilt stuck him like a spitted pig. His gut instinct had been to keep Iris by his side at all times. The problem? It was harder and harder to tell where protective gut instinct ended and lust began.

But it was his fault she was now in danger, just as it was now his responsibility to get her away from Jock and Pebbles before anyone discovered the jewels were fake.

With a soft curse he vowed he’d get another chance at arresting the Boss. People had died thoughtless, senseless deaths. The Boss might be polite and businesslike, but he was as cold-hearted as any shooter on drugs, without any concern about killing a man—or a woman.

He wouldn’t risk leaving Iris in this villain’s clutches.

Life was full of hard choices, but for Mickey, this one was easy.

***

Donovan strode the length of the boardroom again while the gemologist peered through his refractometer. In the corner, Turner leaned against the wall and contemplated his nails. The sun had set, leaving only an indigo mass as a backdrop outside the windows.

The gemologist pushed his chair away from the table. “What you have here are top-quality examples of tinted corundum.”

“I didn’t ask for a diagnosis,” Donovan snapped. “Are they, or are they not, alexandrite?”

“They are not.”

Donovan turned away to place tense hands on the windowsill.

Turner rose from his chair. “Thank you for your time,” he said to the gemologist as he ushered the man out the door.

“You’re welcome, but—oh, I forgot my—” The man hurried back to the oversized table in the middle of the room and fetched his glasses. “Take heart. These might not be authentic alexandrite, but they’re top-quality imitations. I’d say they date back to the 1920s—antiques in their own respect. This size, this clarity, they’re probably worth a thousand dollars apiece.”

Donovan said nothing.

“Well, good night then, gentlemen.” The gemologist scooted out the door Turner held open for him.

When the door clicked shut, Donovan turned to find Turner watching him like a trained dog awaiting his master’s orders. Turner was the only solid player in this whole scheme. Everyone else had let him down, screwed up or tried to cheat him.

Donovan strode over to the refractometer and picked up the single gem lying beside it. He held it in his hand, staring at the blood red color, while frustration boiled within him.

“Dammit!” In one quick eruption, he whipped the small stone across the room. It hit with a thwack and fell to the floor, leaving a pockmark in the wall. “Ten thousand dollars, and I spent ten million. Someone’s going to pay for this.”

Turner came forward, not the least intimidated by the outburst. “George Halsted’s already paid, and so has Cosmo Fortune.”

“Do you really think those two flew all the way to Russia and accepted these? Halsted was smarter than that.”

“True. So, you think the real alexandrite is somewhere here in Las Vegas?”

“I’m sure of it,” Donovan said emphatically. “The question is who pulled the switch.”

Turner perched a hip on the table. “Cosmo’s the one who wouldn’t hand them over. And his daughter’s the one who gave these to Kincaid.”

“Do you think Kincaid knew what these really were?”

Turner shrugged. “Even if he did, he didn’t have ten thousand to buy them from somewhere. Someone who knew gems had to be involved to get this quality.”

“So Iris Fortune is a dead woman, but first I need her to tell us where the real gems are.” Donovan rolled down his shirtsleeves. He was still pissed, but at least now he was taking steps to overcome this latest setback. “I can’t sign those real estate contracts until I have the Romanov alexandrite in my hands. I was counting on trading that to the Russian Cultural Minister in return for him reopening my casino in Moscow.”

“Postpone the meeting,” Turner said flatly.

“I wasn’t looking for advice.” Donovan headed for the door, his way of indicating this meeting was at an end.

“And what about Kincaid?” Turner rose from his perch.

Donovan paused at the door. “If he goes near that Fortune woman, kill him.” He stalked out.

“As you wish, sir.” Turner withdrew his cell phone and dialed Jock.

***

It proved too hard to flag down a cab on Las Vegas Boulevard, so Mickey wound up in the cab line at Treasure Island. His first destination was Jock’s apartment. A logical, if wrong, choice. When he discovered the place empty, he cursed, then grabbed the next CAT bus to his own place where he picked up his car. Still, it was an hour and a half after he’d dropped off the gems before he got downtown to the dingy apartment building Pebbles called home.

Spying the PT Cruiser—purple, no less—that Pebbles babied, Mickey skirted the building and parked on the opposite side. Doubling back to the Cruiser, he studied the parking lot for something he could use to stop it from running. A plastic ballpoint pen cap caught his eye. Round, blue, it had a protruding arm that would normally be used to anchor the pen to someone’s pocket. Perfect—he had a much better use for it.

He hunkered down next to the driver’s side front tire, unscrewed the cap from the tire valve, and wedged that protruding bit of plastic against the valve to open it. Air continued to hiss even after he let go. With a smile, Mickey dusted off his hands and headed into the building. As long as no Good Samaritan tampered with it, that tire would be flat in less than ten minutes.

Who was he kidding? No Good Samaritan had lived in this neighborhood for years.

Climbing eight flights of stairs winded him a bit, but he checked out the hallway, listened at other doors. Everything seemed normal. With a final cleansing breath, Mickey knocked on the apartment door.

Footsteps approached from inside. Mickey saluted the peephole.

The door opened a sliver. One of Jock’s eyes and half his nose showed. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I believe you have something that’s mine.” Mickey shoved through the door.

Jock was thrown back by the force, and he danced around to stay on his feet. Brushing off his jacket, he looked Mickey over. “Oh yeah? Did you come for the bimbo or the bunny?”

“I want them both.”

“Aw, come on, Mickey. Let me keep the bunny.” Pebbles sat on the derelict sofa. At his feet, Edgar sat up on his hind legs as if he’d just been taught to beg.

Mickey thought about telling the giant to go fuck himself, but then decided against it. As it was, he’d be lucky to get back out of here with Iris, Edgar and himself intact. He looked at the rabbit. “Edgar, buddy, sorry to say, but you’re the first one I’ll sacrifice.”

The rabbit swiveled his ears and raised his head to sniff, as if he understood the situation.

“Well, you’re not getting either.” Jock folded his arms and waited.

From the sofa, Pebbles added, “Turner said if you showed up, we should invite you to stay until he got here.” He leaned over to stroke Edgar’s head with a pudgy thumb.

Jock gritted his teeth, and his face flushed with whatever curses he repressed.

Mickey’s eyes darted from one to the other while he sought for the most plausible story. “You want to hide behind that chain-of-command shit? Fine, but Turner’s being a dick.” He placed a hand on Jock’s shoulder and lowered his voice. No need to frighten Iris. “Turner’s boss—the big guy, top dog, white leather in the limo and everything—told me to get the woman out of here and deal with her. Now, if you won’t let me take her, I guess I can deal with her here, but it could get messy, and you know Turner will ask you to clean up.”

Jock shrugged out from under Mickey’s touch and held up his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. Take her. She’s in there.” He jerked his head toward a door.

Mickey opened the door and squinted at the dim light. The room was empty but for a bed in the corner, a dresser along one wall with a mirror above it, and a chair in the middle of the carpeted floor. Iris sat in the chair, her thighs bound to the chair seat, her hands bound behind her. A simple cloth gag limited her sounds to grunts.

She looked uncomfortable and scared, but unharmed.

Stealing to her, Mickey held up his forefinger. “Shhh, it’s okay. I’m taking you with me.” He looked over his shoulder, but Jock was busy talking on his cell phone. If that was Turner on the other end, Mickey needed to get them out of here pronto. He strode forward and loosened the binding on Iris’s gag.

She spat the wet fabric out and heaved a few deep breaths. Mickey understood how she felt—gags were the worst. Even if you could breathe fine, you always felt like you were about to choke on them. He gave her a few seconds to compose herself.

“You’ll pay for this, Kincaid,” she whispered. She looked up, those tawny eyes ablaze with anger. “They claim they’re friends of yours. When I get loose, I’m going to beat the living crap out of you.”

“I’m glad you told me that before I untied you.” He studied her for a few seconds, reassuring himself she hadn’t been bruised, giving thanks that she hadn’t double-crossed him like he’d suspected earlier. “They’re not exactly my friends, more like business acquaintances. Keep quiet and let me try to get us all out of here alive.”

“Where’s Edgar?”

He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “The rabbit’s living the high life. Believe me, if Pebbles could make him king, he would.”

She sighed, as if the rabbit’s safety were more important than her own. Women. Mickey came forward, intent on untying her. Iris flinched away, her eyes wide, and she gasped in fear.

Too late, Mickey realized she wasn’t afraid of him.

***

On his way from the conference room, Turner was hailed by his boss. Robert Donovan lived the lifestyle of all these preppy corporate SOBs, determined that money could resolve any conflict he’d ever face.

But he’d still hired Turner. Money might resolve conflict, but it didn’t always buy silence. There was only one way to guarantee that. Not that it was any cheaper. Turner received top dollar for his work.

“Yes, sir?”

“There’s an article slated for the Tuesday business section. A guy interviewed me about the Russian real estate deal. We had it all timed so the article would appear after the deal.”

So? But Turner only nodded.

“If this contract gets postponed tomorrow, I don’t want that article to print. And either way, I don’t want to talk to that writer again. Deal with it.” Donovan turned to his computer screen, effectively dismissing him.

“Yes, sir.” Turner’s gaze traveled dispassionately over the other man. For all his tailored shirts and five-days-a-week-at-the-gym physique, the man was little better than a thug. His answer to not wanting any embarrassing questions asked was to kill minor players in this George Lucas-esque drama he’d concocted.

Turner left the office and walked to the elevator. It irked him that his talents were being so wasted on this job. A real estate attorney, a translator, a jeweler, and now a journalist. He looked at his watch. The sooner he dealt with the journalist, the better. He knew where to find the Fortune woman, and it might be good to wait and see if Kincaid showed up there. Even though he’d told Jock he’d be over shortly, there was no rush.

It wasn’t like Iris Fortune was going anywhere.

***

It felt like Iris waited an hour before Mickey came to. That guy Pebbles, bigger than a Hummer, had cracked Mickey over the head with the butt of a gun. Iris tried to erase the picture her imagination had created of what would have happened if Pebbles had shot that gun instead. It made her sick to consider it. Mickey wasn’t kidding when he said these guys weren’t his friends. He must have come here for her.

So, was he a good guy? She wished she knew.

Mickey moaned, and his head moved slightly.

“Psst.” She still couldn’t move but, thankfully, those two thugs hadn’t replaced the gag. They’d knotted some cord around Mickey’s ankles, then bound his wrists behind his back and left him lying on his side. Some rescue. “Mickey, wake up.”

He attempted to lift his head, but it fell back against the floor.

Iris waited some more. Through the slatted blinds, slivers of the distant mountains stood silhouetted black against an indigo sky. It had to be going on ten o’clock by now. She gulped. She hated being this frightened, this out of control. Mickey—hell, even unconscious, Mickey was her only hope right now.

As if he heard her thoughts, he stirred again. This time he managed to lift his head nearly upright.

“Are you all right?” she whispered.

“Never better,” he muttered. He moved his shoulders as much as his bindings would allow and eased his head around as if to verify his neck still functioned. “Nothing broken. Pebbles has always been really good at taking me out without any permanent injury.”

“You say that like it’s a good thing that he knocks you out.”

“It beats the alternative.” With a minimum of fuss, he pulled himself into a sitting position then scooted his way toward her chair.

“Can you get us out of this?” Iris asked, her mouth dry.

“Yeah, don’t worry.”

“It’s hard not to worry. When that guy hit you, I thought they were going to kill us both.”

“Well, that’s still a possibility—”

“Don’t make jokes,” Iris whispered vehemently. She pursed her lips against the sob that threatened to escape. “I’m scared, Mickey. I told you I wasn’t cut out for this.”

He scooted the last two feet to her chair. “I know it’s scary, but I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” He sounded dead sure of himself.

Iris looked down on him, wishing he could take her in his strong embrace. She desperately wanted to feel safe and, while Mickey might be a risk, he was a much safer risk than the other two guys. Only, she had no idea how he thought he was going to save her when he was sitting on the floor, his knees bent before him, his ankles tied with what looked like telephone cord, and his arms trussed behind him. “Do you have a plan?”

“Not exactly.”

“You mean you don’t have a pocketknife or something?”

“What do I look like, a Boy Scout?”

She snorted. “Hardly. A Boy Scout would be more trustworthy. He would have come better prepared.”

His eyes captured her. “Trustworthy? Prepared? Don’t kid yourself. A Boy Scout would have been practical enough not to come here alone. He would have waited for reinforcements. He would have kept you waiting.”

Her eyes welled again. “I have been waiting.”

“I came as fast as I could. As soon as I found out.” He scooched even closer, until she felt his warm breath on her bare thigh an inch below her skirt’s hem.

She watched him, wanted to touch him. Being tied left her at such a disadvantage. And yet, seeing Mickey in the same condition gave her this crazy sort of rush. This was exactly the sort of trap she was trying to avoid in life. There was something unknown, dangerous, thrilling about this encounter. She tried to remind herself her life could very well be at stake, but somehow, Mickey’s presence gave her much more hope than she’d had before.

And then her thigh tingled beneath his hot breath. A tug on the cords and a nip of his teeth followed. Her legs tensed as she gasped. “What are you doing?”

His stubbled jaw brushed her thigh, the sensation of scratchy heat sending jolts of desire up her spine. “Relax,” he whispered. “I’m trying to see if these cords are loose enough to free your legs.” He looked up at her, his eyes nearly black in the stripes of moonlight invading the dark room.

She gulped nervously. “What for?”

“So maybe you can get out of here.”

“Oh.” She felt oddly let down by his matter-of-fact answer. His teeth scraped against her thigh again as he tried to pull at the cords. Iris closed her eyes, blotting out her fears for the moment. Instead, she replaced them with wishes of a whole new kind—foolish, dreamy, not-in-this-lifetime kind of wishes.

Wishes that he would make love to her. Wishes that she could tangle her fingers in his dark hair and make this a very different encounter.

“Relax your thighs,” Mickey said. “Let me try this one more time.”

Iris nearly jumped out of the chair at the sensation of his hot, wet tongue sliding along her flesh and trying to work beneath the cord. She didn’t squeal, but her breathing became more labored.

Mickey squinted up at her. “Sorry, is this getting to you?” He bent his head and plucked at the cords with his teeth. But she was pretty sure she’d seen him smile.

“I don’t think this—” another gasp, “—is going to work.”

“Come on, give me a few minutes. We’re in a bedroom, it’s dark, we’re alone. Just pretend I’m making love to you.”

Iris held her breath. He hadn’t really said that. “Don’t joke about it, okay?”

“Who’s joking?” He lifted his face, his gaze roaming over her. “If this is my last night on this Earth, I sure as hell want to spend it with you.”

Trussed up as they were, Iris knew there was no way to fulfill either of their desires. And though she still didn’t believe him, she was grateful to pretend. “I want that, too, Mickey, but those guys could come in here any minute.”

“Forget those two. I could out-think them with my hands tied behind my back.” He grinned that careless, swashbuckling grin at her, almost making her believe him. “Now, where were we?” This time, his moist lips missed the cord entirely as he suckled her skin, teasing her flesh with his tongue.

Footfalls in the other room alerted Iris, and her whole body tensed, destroying the moment.

Mickey scooted away from her heated flesh. “Let me do the talking,” he whispered before Jock and Pebbles came through the door.

They stopped, silhouetted by the lights in the living room behind them, and Iris had to wonder if they did it for effect.

“I told you he’d be conscious by now,” Jock said as an aside to his partner.

“You want I should knock him out again?” asked Pebbles.

Jock waved the idea away as if it were a pesky gnat. “Nah, it’s time Mickey told us what’s really going on here. Maybe he and Miss Fortune here have got a plan.”

“I don’t even know why I’m tied up,” Mickey said.

“So you didn’t get those little gems you delivered this evening from her? Because they turned out to be first-class copies. Turner says the Boss is pissed.”

“Copies?” He turned wide eyes to Iris, and for a second he had her fooled that he hadn’t known they were copies. The liar.

“Where’d you get them made, Mick?” Jock pulled a gun from his waistband. “Turner wants to know.”

“I didn’t get them made. Who had time? Those are the stones I got from Cosmo.”

“Got ’em from a dead man, did you?”

A whole new level of numbness drained Iris’s body. Had these two thugs killed her father?

Pebbles nodded his bumpy bald head. “That’s true, Mickey. You told us yourself that you killed Cosmo and stuffed him in the trunk of your car.”

Iris drew a long, slow, silent breath between her teeth. She hoped it would keep her from fainting—or from screaming at that charming, scheming, lying killer. She’d personally make sure Mickey Kincaid paid for her father’s life with blood.

Mickey didn’t even glance her way as he explained himself to those guys. “I made Cosmo tell me where they were stashed. How was I supposed to know they were fake? You can’t pin this one on me.”

That weasel Jock laughed. “We don’t have to. Turner is coming over to find out where you disposed of Cosmo. And then I suspect he’s going to dump you and your pretty girlfriend right there with him.”

Pebbles tugged on his sleeve. “But I get to keep the bunny this time, right Jock?”

“Would you shut up about the goddamn bunny?” Jock shoved the giant out of his way so he could stalk toward them. He stuck the gun to Mickey’s temple.

Despite her anger, Iris squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the inevitable shot.

But Jock just laughed after a few seconds. “It’s been fun knowing you, Mickey, and Miss Fortune—well, I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to know each other better.” He chucked her under the chin, making her eyes fly open.

If her mouth weren’t so dry, she would have spat at him.

“Come on, Pebbles. Turner will be here any time. Why don’t you go pick us up some dinner.” Jock stalked back to the living room.

The giant remained behind. “Does the bunny like lettuce, Mickey?”

Iris opened her mouth, but then bit back the caustic comment. After all, she’d seen this guy hit Mickey. She’d better not rile him.

“Sure. He loves lettuce. And carrots.” Mickey’s tone remained relaxed and sincere. “And the rabbit’s name is Edgar. If something happens to me, you’ll take good care of that little guy, right?”

“You bet, Mick.” Pebbles grinned and left the room.

Mickey shouted after them. “Hey, if you’re getting carryout, bring us back something.”

She had to hand it to him. Even with these appalling odds, he was absolutely brazen.

The bedroom door stood open, light streaming in to paint a large rectangle on the floor near her chair. Mickey’s legs were gilded in the incandescent light, while his upper body lay in shadow. She’d been counting on this man, and he was a complete mystery to her. If he’d killed Cosmo… Her heart went numb as she wrestled with the implications.

From the living room, Iris heard muffled voices then the apartment door opened and closed. One of them had left. The television clicked on, though she tuned it out except for the occasional bursts of a laugh track.

Cosmo’s dead. He can’t help you. Yeah, right, as if Cosmo had ever… She blinked away useless, too-late tears. The painful part was admitting that somehow she’d hoped he’d mend his ways. Now, she’d never see him again. Never get her answers to so many questions.

She had to get away. Releasing her breath, slowly, she twisted her shoulder to an angle impossible for most people. Fortunately, Cosmo had taught her one element of magic—the art of escape. Why the hell had she been sitting here this long waiting for someone else to rescue her?

“Iris.”

“Don’t talk to me.”

“I didn’t kill Cosmo.”

The sincerity with which he said it made her turn her head and contemplate him.

“God, do you think I could even face you if I’d—” He swallowed. “If I’d done that? He’s alive as far as I know.”

“You keep telling me that so I’ll help you. But come on, who am I supposed to believe? The man who carries a gun? Or those guys—”

“You’re going to believe Jock and Pebbles over me?”

“There’s Edgar, too. He said you held him and Cosmo at gunpoint.”

“Edga—” Mickey shook his head, as if to clear it. “You’re going to convict me on the testimony of two petty crooks and a rabbit? Jesus, I told those guys I offed Cosmo because I was trying to buy your father time. The only way I could keep Turner and his men from hunting Cosmo down was to make them all believe I’d already dealt with him.”

It was a logical story, but she’d heard too many lies from him. She’d gotten that one phone call from her security company that Cosmo had entered her store, but that had been before midnight Friday. Wait, Cory had seen Cosmo on Saturday afternoon—but that still left all of last night. Why wouldn’t Mickey have chased him down and tried again? Maybe that’s where he’d gotten that drawing of the crown.

“Is that why you needed a shower at my place this morning? To wash the rest of the blood off your hands?” She barely kept down the bile that rose in her throat.

“I didn’t kill him, Iris. Look, here’s the deal.” He met her gaze, his blue eyes twinkling in the shadows. “I’m just in this for the stones. I don’t owe Turner or his boss any loyalty, in fact, I was supposed to be in and out of this really quick. Only Cosmo beat me to the gems. So, naturally, I threatened him—but I never meant to harm him. And then he got away without telling me anything, and I haven’t seen him since.”

She’d steeled herself to renounce the lie, but this sounded plausible. But then, that was Mickey’s best defense—he made everything sound plausible. “So you never intended to find Cosmo and help him, did you?”

He swallowed. “It wasn’t at the top of my agenda, no.”

“And you’ve been lying to me all along.”

“Can you honestly say you haven’t lied to me—wait, what’s that?” He cocked his head.

Iris stilled until she heard the faint chirping. “It’s a cell phone.”

They both listened. Jock’s muffled voice drifted into the bedroom, until— “What?” burst from him. He appeared in the doorway, agitation rising off him like steam. “Mickey, you son of a bitch. Did you slash it?”

“Relax. The tire’s fine. It’s just flat.”

Iris looked from one to the other, unsure what they were talking about.

“I’ll be right down,” Jock said into the phone before he snapped it shut. “Now I’ve got to go down there and help him change it.”

“Pebbles can change a tire.”

“Nah, he’ll lose the lug nuts or something. It’ll go faster with me helping him.” His good humor—if you could call it that—restored, he grinned at them. “Don’t you two go anywhere while I’m gone.” He walked away, and the front door opened and closed again.

A snuffling sounded as Edgar’s shadow stretched out on the floor. He hopped slowly into the room. There were no other noises within the apartment.

“Hah!” Mickey’s exultant laugh caught her by surprise.

She lifted a brow at him.

“I just bought us five, maybe ten minutes.” He fumbled about on the floor, trying to find a way to stand. “We just need to figure out how to get loose.”

“I think I’m halfway there,” Iris said. Gritting her teeth, she raised her arms from behind her, over her head and down into her lap. Her wrists were still bound, and her shoulders ached with the strain.

Mickey had almost found his balance when he looked in her direction and toppled to the floor again. “How the hell’d you do that?”

“Double jointed. Mom said my Nikolaevsky ancestors were acrobats.” The problem was, with her hands bound, she couldn’t rotate her shoulders back into place. She needed to get this rope off.

Renouncing the pain, she bent over to work on the cords binding her thighs to the chair seat.

“That’s great. Now untie me, and I’ll untie you.”

“Go to hell.” With her legs free, she stalked past him to the living room, intent on finding her things. Jock had left her purse and her keys right on the dining table. Beside them lay Mickey’s cell phone, wallet and gun.

She tossed her keys in her purse before considering her bound hands again. She was going to look great hailing a cab—assuming she could find a cab in this neighborhood. She didn’t have a very clear idea of where she was.

“Iris.” Mickey’s voice carried from the bedroom. “Turner’s not going to accept any excuses for me handing over fake stones. If you leave me here, they’ll kill me.”

Good. But she closed her eyes as she thought it, once again trying to evade that image of Pebbles shooting Mickey in the head. She picked up the gun from the table, being sure to keep it pointed away from her. She didn’t know that much about guns, and with her hands tied, she had limited range of motion. She walked back into the bedroom to find Mickey sitting on the chair she’d vacated.

His eyes grew round when he saw the gun. “Whoa now, tiger.”

“Just tell me, where’s his body?” She wanted to find it before Turner did. That was the least she could do for her sisters.

Mickey watched Iris approach. Vengeance brightened her eyes, making him sweat. “I swear to you, he’s alive as far as I know.” He tilted his chin to the right to avoid the muzzle of the gun. “Do you know anything about handguns?”

“Not really. You just pull the trigger, right?”

Shit. “First off, you only point it at someone you intend to kill.” He braved a direct look to appraise her mood. Iris was tied up in knots that had nothing to do with the cord still around her wrists. She was exhausted and scared and angry—not to mention, she had to be in pain—any of which could have her accidentally pulling that trigger. “Could you just point that at the floor?”

“Not as much fun when you’re not in control, is it, Mickey, ol’ pal?” But she lowered the gun. “I don’t know what to do with you. You say you didn’t kill Cosmo, but I can’t be certain. I can’t trust you anymore. I think it’s better if we part company here.”

Mickey’s heart sank. Oddly, it wasn’t the thought of being left here to die, it was the thought that he’d had her trust and lost it. But he knew what he had to do.

“Look, Rissie, we don’t have time to chat about it. You need to get out of here, now. Take that gun with you—turn it into the police. They’ll know what to do with it.” With luck, Hunter would find his body one day.

She wavered. “I’m sorry.” Self-preservation made her eager to bolt, he could tell.

“I’ll be fine,” he said with all the bravado he could muster. Anything to get her out of here. If this were the only way to save her, so be it. “Don’t worry. I can talk my way out of anything. Now go.”

She swiped at what he suspected was a tear, then she walked out. He heard sounds in the other room. Iris gathering her things, her low voice reassuring Edgar as she worked.

“Leave my phone, will you?” he called out to her. “I might be able to call my next of kin.”

“It’s on the table.”

He heard a door open and close. And then, silence.

Heaving a breath meant only to refresh his lungs, Mickey balanced on his feet again and made his way into the living room the only way he could—hopping like a goddamn rabbit. But there was his phone. If he could get it open and speed dial Hunter, he might survive the night.

Although, if he couldn’t find Cosmo, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look Iris Fortune in the face again.

He used his nose to nudge the phone near the edge of the table, then turned around and fumbled the phone with his hands until he managed to get it open. He felt along the buttons, feeling pretty sure that he’d dialed *9. When he tried to put the phone back on the table so he could turn and talk into it, the phone slipped and fell to the floor.

“Shit.” He dropped to his knees, which hurt like hell, but it beat having them shot off, which could still be on tonight’s agenda if he didn’t get this right. He heard the phone connection ringing, but couldn’t see—ah, there, underneath the table.

“Hello?”

Double shit. He’d dialed *8. “Mom?”

“Michael! What a nice surprise. Two calls in two nights. You must be wrapping up that case of yours.”

“Working on it. Hey, is Dad there?”

“No, he’s gone to midnight bowling. Can I have him call you when he gets home?”

Mickey doubted he’d be alive for two ten-frames and a pitcher of beer with the boys. Worse, he had to find a way to get Mom to hang up. He couldn’t reach his phone under the table, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her listening to what would happen to him when Turner arrived. “Mom, I do need you to do something for me—”

The apartment door’s handle jiggled.

“What is it, dearie?”

Mickey froze, all the horrors of his brother’s murder fresh in his mind. It grieved him to put his mother through all that pain again. Dying wouldn’t hurt him, it was the family he’d leave behind who would suffer.

“Hang up the phone. I need to go.”

He was about to die. What a hell of a time to discover just how much he wanted to live.

Chapter Ten

The door opened, and Mickey peeked over the dining table to confront his executioner.

Iris stood in the doorway holding Edgar’s square box. Her hands were still tied together, and her cheeks were streaked with tears.

“Hang up? Why? Michael? Are you still there?” Mom’s thin voice carried from beneath the dining table in the stillness.

Iris raised her brow at him.

“Yeah, I’m here. Can you hold on a sec?” He never took his eyes from the copper-headed siren approaching him. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your neck.” She put the box on the dining table and peered inside. “Edgar all but spoke out loud. He clearly wants you to come with us.”

Mickey sighed. He hated to admit it, but the rabbit had saved his hide more than once.

Iris crawled under the table to retrieve the phone, which had come to life again.

“Michael? Is everything all right there?”

Mickey allowed himself one appreciative glance at Iris’s backside and creamy legs in that short, tight skirt of hers as she retrieved the phone. Just his luck to get Iris in a position like that and have his hands tied behind his back. With an effort, he dragged his mind back to his more pressing problems. “Give me the phone.”

But instead of holding it up for him to speak into it, Iris put the phone to her own ear. “Hello?”

“Who’s this?” In the quiet room, Mickey could hear his mother’s surprise.

“I’m Iris Fortune. Who’s this?”

“Deirdre Kincaid. I’m Michael’s mother.”

Iris raised a brow at Mickey.

“Gimme the damn phone,” he mouthed silently.

Iris’s lips turned into a hint of a smile as she stepped away. He had to strain to hear his mother’s voice in the quiet room.

“Is Michael still there?”

“Yes, but he’s, er, rather tied up at the moment.”

Ha ha. She was so in for it when he got loose.

“That’s Michael. Always working. But it was so nice of him to call me twice this weekend. Are you, um, a special friend of his?”

Iris hesitated, and Mickey realized she didn’t want to lie to his mom. Even over the phone, with someone she was never likely to meet, she couldn’t bring herself to outright lie. And she’d come back here to help him. He had to get her out of here.

“Gimme the phone now,” he mouthed again.

“Nice talking to you, Deirdre. Here he is.” Iris held the phone up to his ear.

“Mom, look, I’ve gotta run, something’s come up.”

“Something, or someone?”

Mickey looked up at Iris and knew she was hearing every word of this conversation. “It’s work, okay?”

She sighed heavily into the phone. “Such a shame. She sounds nice. Why don’t you bring her home sometime?”

He watched Iris’s brow rise slightly again. “I think flying her back to Boston to meet the parents sends a pretty strong message. Not sure either of us is ready for that. Look, I’ll try to call later this week.”

“It’s not necessary. I’m doing much better with Brian’s…well— Don’t forget to call Suze. She wants to talk to you.”

Iris’s brow wrinkled at the mention of another woman’s name.

“Yeah, I will. Say hi to Dad for me.”

“I will, dearie. Now you be careful. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom.” He dared another glance up at Iris to find her contemplating him. The wariness in her eyes was still present, but it had softened. “Close the phone,” he whispered to her.

That seemed to shake her from her reverie, and she folded the phone shut.

“Get me untied, and let’s get out of here,” he said.

She nodded. Setting the phone on the table, she stepped behind him. He felt her fingers on the cord at his wrists. They fumbled for a second, then stilled.

“You’re from Boston?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He tried to look over his shoulder, but all he saw was some of her hair.

“Who’s Suze?”

“Iris, we don’t have time for this. We need to get out of here.”

“Then tell me who she is, because I’m not untying you until you do.”

He thought about lying, but that seemed like a cheap thing to do now that he understood it wasn’t in her code. “She’s my sister-in-law.”

“And Brian?”

He swallowed. “Brian was my brother. He was murdered by a gang member. Suze is his widow.”

There was silence behind him. Mickey waited, and then he felt her fingers working the cords on his wrists again. Once his hands were loose, she kneeled down to untie his ankles.

He flexed his fingers, the painful tingle of returning blood flow a welcome sensation. “Here, let me untie your wrists.” He turned to pick at the cord around her hands. “You’re helping me because the rabbit told you to?”

Her brandy-colored eyes lifted to meet his. “You were facing certain death, and you called your mother in Boston?”

He shrugged. “It was that or call the local police.” Once her hands were loose, he watched her shake out her arms and rotate her shoulders. The tight lines around her mouth eased, and he realized she must have been in pain from that crazy escape stunt she’d pulled. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, except my hands tingle.”

“Not enough circulation.” He covered them with his, massaging blood back into them. The cord had torn her skin, and bruises marred her wrists. She had to be scared out of her wits, yet she’d come back here for him. “I swear to you, I didn’t kill Cosmo.” He dared another look at her.

Seconds stretched as she scanned his face. “I want to believe you.”

“Then do.” He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips before tugging her to her feet. “Come on, my car’s downstairs.”

They gathered their things and Mickey scanned the hall before ushering Iris toward the elevators. Elevators were always a risk, but they were eight flights up, and Iris looked exhausted.

She leaned forward to punch the down button, but he grabbed her hand. “What?” Her eyes met his as they both heard the telltale sound of a winch in operation. One of the elevators was already moving.

“Stairs.” He took the box from her and put it on the floor.

“We can’t leave him,” she whispered.

Mickey gritted his teeth. Not that he’d expected her to make this escape easy. He yanked open the top of the box.

Edgar stared up at him, his beady red eyes glowing like a demon under the bad hallway lighting.

“Let’s get this straight, pal. You bite me, and you’re staying behind.” Mickey reached in and withdrew the rabbit.

Edgar seemed to sense the danger. He curled up until he wasn’t much larger than a football, his ears pressed close to his body, and let Mickey tuck him close.

With the rabbit safely in one hand, Mickey held out his other. “Give me my gun.”

Without hesitation, Iris reached into her bag and handed him the weapon.

He nodded toward the exit sign down the hall. “Go.”

They moved quickly but quietly, entering the stairwell. Iris’s heeled sandals clicked on the stairs.

“Take your shoes off, hold the rail and go as fast as you can. If you hear anything, don’t look back.”

Her eyes widened, but she did as she was told without question. They made it down the stairs in record time. At the bottom, Mickey stopped her long enough to make sure the exit was safe. She’d saved his life tonight, and he intended to make damn sure nothing happened to her.

***

Sam Turner stood in the empty apartment and swore. He’d passed Jock and Pebbles down in the parking lot arguing over how to change a flat tire, but Jock had assured him he’d find Kincaid and the woman waiting here. Those idiots down there had outlived their usefulness. He’d deal with them as soon as he took care of more pressing matters.

He removed his gloves and pulled his cell phone from his shirt pocket. This was one call he didn’t want to make.

“Yes?” Donovan answered with expectation.

“I got here, but the place is empty. They’ve escaped, sir.”

There was silence. Then— “My mistake for giving too much responsibility to Jock and his giant friend.”

“I’ll take care of them, sir.”

“They’re negligible. Find Kincaid and the Fortune woman.”

“What do you want me to do with them?”

“Kincaid’s an untrustworthy liability.” Donovan gave a harsh laugh. “We don’t even have proof that he ever killed Fortune. I suspect he’s working with the magician and the daughter. Kill him.”

With pleasure, Turner thought. Mickey always had been a little too much of a hotshot. But he wouldn’t be an easy target. No, Turner would have to track him down and find the right time and place.

“What about the woman?”

“Keep an eye on her. I think we’ll find Cosmo Fortune is still alive and still has the real jewels. Once we find him, I intend to up the stakes.”

***

“I think you’re nuts,” Iris said as Mickey slid the key into her apartment door. She snuggled Edgar to her for warmth against the chilled hallway. “They kidnapped me from my shop. Don’t you think they know where I live?”

Mickey pushed the door open, reaching a hand in to find a light switch. “Turner’s too much of a pro to come here. Too many potential witnesses. Besides, didn’t you notice the squad car parked on the curb? Turner won’t touch this place tonight.”

She hadn’t noticed the police cruiser, but then Mickey probably had a built-in radar for spotting them. Maybe he’d pulled that chambray shirt over his black tee to better hide his gun in case anyone stopped them. Eagerly, she brushed him aside, but Mickey stopped her from entering.

“Let me check it out first.”

“I thought you just said—”

Placing a finger against her lips to silence her, he regarded her with such serious intent that it rekindled her fear. He left her and Edgar standing in the doorway while he pulled his gun and prowled through the living room on silent feet then disappeared down the darkened hall toward the bedrooms.

She waited with jumpy anticipation, the effect of exhaustion overrun with adrenaline. It was close to midnight, she hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours, she’d been kidnapped, tied up, her life threatened—but they’d escaped. She’d never felt more alive.

She should go to the police, but feared what that would mean for Cosmo—and Mickey.

He returned through the darkened room. “It’s clear.” He stuffed the gun into the rear of his jeans.

“Now what?” She ran her hand along Edgar’s collar to make sure it was secure before placing him on the carpet.

“We get some sleep.” He scrubbed his stubbly chin and stifled a yawn.

She put up a hand. “We?”

A self-satisfied smile lit his lips and eyes. “This morning you seemed to like my coffee. And I liked your shower. And earlier this evening, I mean, we were both a little tied up, but—”

Her face warmed. “Fine. You can sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not much of a couch man,” he said in that cajoling tone.

“Too bad. It’s the best I can do.”

His smile faded. “Do you still think I killed Cosmo?”

“I…I don’t know what to think anymore.” Iris stepped away. “When I see you standing there, I can’t bring myself to believe you could coldheartedly kill.” She tripped over the last word but recovered enough to continue. “But when you leave me, I start to imagine things, and I believe it’s possible.”

“Possible.” Mickey touched her cheek and met her eyes. “But not probable.”

“No, not probab—”

The ringing of her phone interrupted her.

Mickey stilled. “Answer it.”

Any call at this hour would be important. She hurried to the kitchen extension where she saw SecureLink registered on the caller ID screen. A break-in? “Iris Fortune.”

“Miss Fortune, this is Randy from SecureLink Systems. Can you verify your pass code for me?”

She recited the numbers under Mickey’s watchful gaze.

“We show an after-hours entry using your pass code, with the alarm reset thirteen minutes later. Was that you?”

She turned away from him as tears stung her eyes. Cosmo. He was still alive. “Yes, Randy. Sorry about that. It was me.”

“I’m making a note of it, ma’am, and I see you did the same thing the other night. You’re paying top dollar for our services, you might want to call us when you re-enter the building.”

“I know. I promise I will from now on. But thank you for calling.” Iris hadn’t been this close to crying in years. Damn his eyes, when she caught up with her father, she was going to kick his ass.

“You’re welcome. Good night, Miss Fortune.”

“Good night.” She hung up the phone and gulped down a sob of relief.

“Hey.” Mickey approached her. “Is everything all right?”

She threw herself into his arms. “Cosmo’s alive!” Her relief that Cosmo was apparently unharmed was only matched by the knowledge that this man had told her the truth—he hadn’t harmed her father.

Mickey gathered her close and kissed the top of her head. “Was that him on the phone?”

“No, my security company for the store.” She clung to his strength, the safety of his arms, the incredible earthy, woodsy traces of his cologne. “Someone entered—then left—after hours using my pass code. Cosmo’s the only other person who has it.”

“I should try to find him.” He pulled away.

Iris refused to let go. “No. He reset the alarm already, and he’s gone. By the time you get over there, there won’t be any trace of him.”

“I should try—”

“No. Stay with me.” In case he didn’t understand her completely, Iris stood on tiptoe and captured his lips.

She’d surprised him, she could tell by his hesitation, but that only lasted a heartbeat before he crushed her to him. She knotted her fingers behind his head, feeling the crisp dark curls she’d found so alluring. His lips were gentle, warm, as they moved provocatively across hers, his tongue caressing her mouth, fueling the fires within her.

This, this, was the way to celebrate life. After the day she’d had, she deserved this.

His lips withdrew from hers to blaze a trail down her throat. One of his large hands crept up her waist, past her ribs to cup a breast, and she arched to meet him with a moan of desire. His other hand palmed her hips, pulling her against him to feel his heat.

Near her ear, he whispered, “Iris, don’t do something you’ll regret.”

She pulled back just far enough to take hold of his jaw between her two hands and stare him in the eye. “I could have died tonight. So could you. Don’t talk about regrets. For once, I’m going to do precisely what I want.”

Pressing her lips to his, she kissed him long and deep. Her fingers whispered over the tense muscles of his shoulders only to dig in and rake down his back.

He growled against her mouth.

She smiled with the power. “Tell me you don’t want this, too.”

“Oh I want to.” Mickey pulled back to search her face. One hand brushed her curls back from her eyes. “But a man’s gotta have some kind of honor.”

“So the ‘honor amongst thieves’ isn’t true?”

“You’re not a thief.”

No, she wasn’t, not deep down. But couldn’t she pretend—just this once?

“Besides, the saying is ‘no honor amongst thieves.’” He bent his head and suckled on her earlobe, his teeth nipping the sensitive skin.

Iris bit her lip as she melted against him. Yes, once would be enough.

Someone rapped on her door. The two of them froze like hunted animals.

Iris’s heart began to thump again even as Mickey stepped away. Silently, he approached the door to peer out. He waved her over to look for herself. She stood on tiptoe to see a uniformed cop through the tiny window. Mickey stepped beside the door and motioned for her to open it. When she realized he hadn’t drawn his gun, she complied.

The policeman looked startled to see her. “Evening, ma’am. I’m Officer Foote. Are you Iris Fortune?”

Iris nodded.

“Sorry to bother you, but Detective Hunter asked me to check and make sure you’d made it home safe.”

“Um, yes. Yes, I just got home a few minutes ago. How did—”

“Your sister tried to file a missing persons report. Normally, we wait twenty-four hours before we can act on these things, but Detective Hunter said there are some extenuating circumstances.” He looked at some notes in his hand. “There’s a report here of Edgar, twenty pounds—would that be your son?”

“That would be my rabbit. He’s here, too.” Iris retreated a step, but didn’t take her eyes off the policeman. She didn’t want him to get any inkling of Mickey’s presence. “I guess I better call my sister.”

To her surprise, the idea didn’t piss her off, though it was rather an inconvenient time.

“If you’d prefer, ma’am, I’ll be reporting to the detective, and I’ll ask him to contact her.”

“Thanks. Now, it’s been a long day, so if you don’t mind…” She began to shut the door.

He placed a hand on the panel. His brow wrinkled with concern. “Ma’am, are there any other messages? Are you alone in there? Would you like me to come in and look around the place?”

Iris drew herself up, though she was still a far cry from his height. “Look, I don’t think it’s any of yours or Hunter’s business whether or not I’m alone, and unless you’ve got a warrant, you can kiss goodbye any notion of setting foot in here.”

He backed away. “Yes, ma’am. Just trying to help.”

She closed the door quietly in his face.

Mickey leaned against the inside of the panel. His eyes gleamed with humor. “Nicely done,” he whispered.

Iris retreated to the living room and waited for him to follow. “You didn’t pull your gun out. Why?”

“You didn’t need protection from a uniformed cop. Besides, pull a gun on a cop, and he either makes you drop your weapon or—”

“Or?”

Mickey shrugged. “Or he shoots you. They don’t ask a lot of questions, and they don’t give you a long time to decide. It’s not like with the guys I deal with. We pull a gun as a show of force. It’s grandstanding. It’s marking our territory.”

Iris smiled.

“What?” His eyes crinkled in response.

Her heart fluttered at his reaction. “I knew you’d never shoot a cop. You’re too good a person.”

“Iris, listen to yourself. I’m a petty thief.”

“No, you’re much more. And I want to experience it all.” God help her, who was this wanton possessing her body? Apparently, adrenaline had a better kick than alcohol. She stepped back into his arms.

This time he accepted her without argument. As their bodies melded, she marveled at how well they fit, her head nestled beneath his chin as she drew in the rugged scent of spicy cologne mingled with male skin. His large hands smoothed down her back, then repeated the motion, only this time they stripped away her suit jacket.

Her fingers found his shirt buttons, moving slowly. Anticipation built within her to see those defined pecs and that flat, muscled abdomen. She hadn’t been able to erase the vision of him naked in her shower from her memory.

His hands stilled her fingers. “I can’t make you promises, Iris.”

She lifted her gaze to his while a bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t need promises. I just want tonight. No strings, no expectations.” Her fingers resumed their downward trail.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You deserve promises. You deserve—”

“Mickey? Shut up and kiss me.” She cupped the bulge in his jeans, proving to them both that despite his hesitant words, he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

He reacted with a sharp intake of breath, a growl, and then his lips captured hers, hungrily, painfully—biting, licking, sucking on her mouth until she gasped for breath. And then he gentled beneath her hands, his hips rocking into hers with a need that matched her own. She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, enjoying the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. Feeling his hands at the small of her back, unzipping her skirt, she barely refrained from shouting an exultant “Finally!”

She couldn’t recall ever wanting to be naked with someone so much. This wasn’t just desire. This was destiny.

Her skirt slid down her bare legs to pool at her feet. Mickey’s gaze slid down her body. “God, I love your legs.” He lifted his eyes to hers, the predatory gleam sending a thrill through her. “Let me see all of you. Take your top off.”

Swallowing, she ignored the self-conscious doubts. She grasped the hem of the tank top and slowly pulled it over her head. It tangled in her curls, but Mickey’s fingers helped free it. When she shook her head clear, she saw his other hand was busy unfastening his jeans, releasing his erect penis to the air. That glint in his eyes had turned positively carnivorous.

Her body shuddered with anticipation as he stepped toward her.

With a feather-light touch, Mickey’s thumb stroked her breast in an ever-diminishing orbit until he brushed her erect and very sensitive nipple. She gasped at the ripples coursing across her flesh, straight down her belly and between her legs. In the muted light, Mickey’s jaw tightened as he tried to hold back a smile. Leaning forward, he captured her other breast in his mouth, laving the nipple with his wet tongue until she writhed in his hold.

“Touch me.” God help her, she was already willing to beg.

She felt his smile as he moved his attention from one breast to the other. “I am touching you.”

“No,” she said. “Touch me.” To drive her point home, she wrapped her fingers around his cock and squeezed gently.

“Easy there, tiger.” He pulsed in her hand. But he got her message, because he dipped one hand between her legs.

Her brain went positively blank when his hot fingers worked past her panties and stroked her wet folds.

He groaned out loud, and in reply, she leaned against his chest and captured his lower lip for a quick kiss. A short squeal escaped her as he picked her up, cradling her to his chest, and strode for the bedroom.

He perched her gently on her bed before yanking his jeans off his legs. He stopped long enough to root in a pocket for his wallet, and from there he withdrew a small crinkly packet. As he pulled off his briefs, Iris snagged a thumb in the elastic of her silk panties.

“Don’t take those off,” he warned. “I want to do that myself.”

She hid a smile as he rolled the condom onto himself. He might be a petty thief, but he obviously took responsibility seriously. And he cared about her. She sensed it in his touch.

And now he touched her in a whole different way, leaning down to grab her panties with his teeth, nipping at her thighs as he drew the skimpy fabric down her legs. Stealthily, he worked his way back up, stoking the anticipatory fire within her as he tasted the skin at the back of her knee, scrubbed her inner thigh with his bristled jaw, bent to study then taste her in that most intimate of places.

She knotted her hands into his shoulders. “You’re killing me, you know that?”

“Is that a complaint?” He skewed a brow at her.

“Honestly, about now you could do anything you wanted.”

He raised his head to look at her. “Do not tempt me like that.”

Her skin tingled, but she was unsure of his meaning. Without a word, she slid down, bringing her face level with his. “What is it you want from me?” she whispered.

“You.” He bent his head and captured her lips again. “Like this.” Sliding his fingers into her slickness again, he whispered, “And like this. You want me. That’s more than I deserve.”

Tears stung her eyes. Without flowery words, this man made her feel more wanted, more precious, than any other ever had. David, for all his eloquent protestations, had never made her feel so coveted. Banishing her fiancé to the furthest corner of her brain, she summoned her strength and rolled Mickey onto his back until she straddled him.

Pushing her hair back from her face, she grinned down at him. But words eluded her.

That swashbuckling smile spread across his features as he stretched his arms over his head and folded them on the pillow.

Iris bit her lip at the oh-so-tempting landscape of muscle presented to her. Raking her fingers down his shoulders, across his chest and ribs, she gripped his hips and, in one tempestuous movement, she impaled herself on him.

This time, it was Mickey who gasped with surprise. His eyes widened, darkened and he gripped his lower lip with his teeth. His fingers laced with hers, and he supported her hands as she adjusted slightly.

Her muscles stretched to accommodate his heat, his girth, her every sense attuned to him. She blanked her mind to all conscious thought. Tonight was about feeling, experiencing…

Sharing.

Beneath her, Mickey ground his hips in a motion so slow, so tantalizing, Iris thought she might go quietly insane with her need. As she was about to open her mouth and beg again, he took both her hands in one of his.

His other hand crept to where their bodies joined, making her breath hitch. His thumb made contact with her highly sensitive flesh, and she couldn’t control her hips as they started to rock.

“Ride me, Iris.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks at his invitation, but her momentary embarrassment was no match for the storm building within her. She rocked with his rhythm, lifting and sinking with his thrusts, spurred on as he increased the tempo of his thumb. A wave built within her, seeking escape, seeking voice. She gasped for breath. “Oh, God. Mickey—”

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

His forehead was dotted with perspiration, his eyes glowed up at her. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Come on, give it to me, Iris. Give yourself to me.”

She bent to kiss him, but the new angle pushed her beyond the physical world. Her core exploded in a rainbow of sensation, like a prism shooting light in all directions. For a few seconds she was the light, the color, the power.

Mickey gripped her hips with both hands, pumping into her with a roar that overshadowed her fractured yelp of release.

When the room stopped revolving, Iris realized they’d both stilled. The only sound in the bedroom was their heavy breathing. Steeling herself, she glanced down at Mickey. His eyes were squeezed shut, his jaw tight, and he held his thin lips closed.

God, what was she supposed to say now? In fact, what the hell had she just done?

And then she noted the tear at the corner of his eye. Iris leaned down and gathered him into her arms.

He clutched her tightly. Long seconds passed before he cleared his throat. “That’s the first time since Brian…” He drew a breath and exhaled sharply. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever want…”

“Shhh.” Pushing aside her own insecurities, she rolled to his side and cuddled him close, stroking his hair, smoothing his brow. “What you need is a good night’s sleep.”

He grasped her fingers and kissed them. “What we need is a shower and some food. And I want you again, Iris Fortune. Tonight’s not over yet.”

***

They shared the shower. Mickey scrubbed Iris’s back, then soaped and rinsed her chafed and bruised wrists. He lingered over washing her skin, memorizing the play of muscles across her back, the soft curve of her rounded breasts, inhaling the fragrance of her skin and hair. Later, they raided the refrigerator, where Iris found a bag of baby carrots and chopped them up with some greens for a salad for Edgar. Mickey filled a bowl of water for the rabbit, and they watched Edgar eat while they stuffed their mouths with deli turkey and Brie.

Mickey drew a long sip from a water bottle, his gaze roaming this kitchen, this woman. Even the rabbit. It all felt so domestic—so homey. His life had been far from normal ever since he arrived in Las Vegas. Domestic moments had no place in petty thief Mickey Kincaid’s world. But then, domestic moments had become uncomfortable for him since Brian—

“Turkey?” Iris stood at the open refrigerator door looking over her shoulder at him.

“What?”

“Do you want any more turkey?” she repeated.

“No, I’m good.” He watched her bend over to put things away. She wore nothing but his unbuttoned shirt, and she’d probably hate him for saying it, but in the open chambray with her hair all mussed up, she looked adorable.

Tell her.

Mickey popped a last bite of cheese into his mouth. That damn voice hadn’t shut up all night. As much as he’d like to tell her the truth, he could also list a litany of reasons why he shouldn’t. Sure, she’d come back to help him tonight. That had shown courage and faith. It’s not that he didn’t trust her, but where would a confession like his leave them?

“Brian promised me he’d always be there for me. He lied.” Suze’s bitterness over her husband’s death had been summed up that briefly.

Iris had set the boundaries—one night, no strings, no expectations, no promises. The least he could do was honor that and not offer her unwanted complications. He took another sip of water, letting his gaze wander the kitchen again. Was it wrong to steal a few hours of peace…of happiness? Christ—was that what he’d been feeling around Iris?

Happy. He’d almost forgotten what that was. Then he realized another subtle difference. His headaches, which had been chronic since Brian’s death, had abated. Despite the stress of this weekend, Iris managed to ease everything that was painful in his life.

“Okay, tell me what you’re thinking.” Iris stood at the other end of the kitchen, her arms folded in an unspoken challenge. “Because this silence is getting really awkward.”

Tell her. “Come here.” He opened his arms in invitation.

She approached without hesitation, then squeaked as he pulled her against him, sliding his arms inside her shirt and enveloping her in a warm hug, bare skin to bare skin.

He studied her for long seconds before speaking. “You may not want promises, but I propose we make a pact. No secrets between us in bed. Deal?”

His heart drummed beneath her hand as she traced the planes of his muscled chest. “Deal. Of course that might leave us with very little to say.”

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he murmured before pressing his lips to her earlobe. Words were overrated, he decided. “For now, let me show you what I’m thinking.”

They returned to the bedroom for more lovemaking, this time teasing and exploring, ravishing and cherishing each other slowly, erotically. Afterward, they fell into an exhausted slumber, their bodies tangled together as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Chapter Eleven

Cosmo eased the Trans Am slowly down the street. The vehicle’s tinted windows made night vision even more of a risk, but it helped ensure his anonymity. His buddy Bernie had smiled broadly when Cosmo asked to borrow a car for a little overnight reconnoitering.

“Got just the thing for you.” The smile, the words, the tone were nothing less than Cosmo had expected from a used car dealer.

“Nothing flashy,” Cosmo cautioned. “I need to blend in with the landscape.”

Bernie pointed him to the vintage red Trans Am with jacked-up oversized wheels. A giant phoenix painted in gold sprawled across the hood.

“I said blend in, not hold up a neon sign.”

Bernie stuffed his cigar between his teeth. Didn’t stop him from talking around it. “At this hour that will blend anywhere in Vegas. And if someone does make you, they ain’t never gonna catch you.”

Cosmo had eyed the car suspiciously, but now had to admit it did blend in. Souped-up rental cars were the rage nowadays amongst wealthy tourist gamblers. This car carried a hint of drug dealer or street gang, but with the dealer plates on it, the cops had left him alone. Even now, the officer standing by his squad car at the curb didn’t pay him any attention.

He’d stopped at Lying Eyes earlier, but the gems he’d stashed there were gone. Only Iris would have found and moved them. But where? And where had she disappeared to all day?

The engine purred as he pulled into the parking deck next to her building. Three o’clock in the morning, and here he was defying all common sense so he could see her. He’d had a ticklish feeling in his stomach all evening telling him something was wrong. It had gotten worse when he called Iris’s cell from a pay phone—she hadn’t picked up, and he hadn’t left a message. But that had spurred him to visit her store. It was a risk to keep letting himself in there, but he’d wanted to collect the gems. So much for that idea.

Now instead of tickled, his stomach felt like beavers were in there stripping the bark off trees. And the fact that Iris’s car wasn’t here didn’t help. His intestines cramped up—stress getting to him—so he parked the Trans Am and cut the engine. He’d never before thought he was getting too old for this kind of thing, but maybe he needed to reconsider. Sixty-five was still pretty spry, but now that the girls knew about each other, maybe he should stay home more. Reconnect. Be a better father.

He sure as hell hadn’t ever wanted to involve his daughters in his schemes. That had backfired, too, thanks to Mickey. That boy—

A shadow moving along the next row of cars caught Cosmo’s eye. Human, male, tall, and within another three strides, Cosmo had him pegged. “Turner.” He hit the automatic door locks just to be safe. The tinted windows would make it impossible for Turner to see him, but what was Donovan’s hired gun doing here, so close to Iris’s apartment?

Turner examined a rather nondescript dark hatchback. Giving the car a more thorough perusal, Cosmo gulped in a breath. What was Mickey Kincaid’s Prelude doing here at this hour?

He screwed his eyes shut against the obvious answer, then peeped one eyelid open. Cosmo had hoped Mickey and Iris would click, that the boy might show her a whole world existed out there beyond the safe environs of David-dom. Mickey always had been a hands-on sort of guy.

Cosmo pushed Iris and Mickey to the back of his mind. If she had Mickey with her, she was safe. But Turner wouldn’t be prowling around an upscale residential neighborhood unless he was on the hunt. Was he after Mickey? Or Iris? Or both? At the moment, it looked like Turner was trying to jimmy the trunk lock on Mickey’s car.

What Cosmo needed was a decoy. Something that would pull Turner off Mickey’s scent. Get him out of Iris’s neighborhood. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the gems, real or otherwise. All he had was a souped-up Trans Am.

And himself.

“Well, Bernie, let’s see what this mother will do.” Cosmo cranked the engine and revved it.

Turner hunkered down behind the Prelude.

Cosmo switched on the high beam headlights and rolled forward. He lowered the tinted window. “Hey, Turner! You looking for me?”

Turner recognized him immediately. Jumping to his feet, the man pulled out a gun with an obscenely long barrel length.

Silencer. Cosmo ducked and hit the gas. The back window exploded in a rain of glass as he popped the clutch and peeled around the corner out of the line of fire.

He slowed down as he left the parking deck, waiting to be sure Turner would follow him. By the time he saw headlights in his rearview mirror, he’d already mapped out his route.

And Bernie was right—in this car, Turner was never gonna catch him.

***

Iris woke to find sunlight infiltrating the plantation blinds to leave narrow slats of brightness striping the carpet. Pushing the hair from her eyes, she tried to roll over but hit a solid wall of muscle. She held her breath as memories of their night assaulted her.

Realizing her companion still snored softly, she dared to glance his way.

Mickey sprawled across her pink sheets with the sinewy allure of a sated jungle cat. With one arm flung above his head, the planes of his face now relaxed in slumber, he had the guileless quality of a small boy. This was his triumph, the ability to be strong yet ingenuous, to pull in someone’s emotions and gain confidence. He was a criminal who made you want to believe the best in him.

She must have been insane to make love with him.

A smile cracked her lips. Maybe, but insanity never felt that good.

She sobered. What she’d done was impulsive, selfish, potentially dangerous. God, she’d started telling lies, and now she’d cheated on her fiancé. Her warm glow cooled as she confronted the cold hard facts. She couldn’t trade away her future for a one-night stand—no matter how good it felt. With a final glance at Mickey’s profile, she slipped from the bed and stole to the bathroom for a bracing shower to wake herself.

Thirty minutes later, sensibly dressed in a yoga ensemble of light blue, Iris closed the bedroom door so the coffeemaker’s spitting wouldn’t disturb him. Jealously, she guarded his sleep, allowing him to prepare himself for whatever today held in store. She wasn’t sure what to say to him when he awoke. Of one thing she was certain—whatever the conversation, it was bound to end with Mickey saying goodbye as he walked out. Just like Cosmo always had.

And her standing here, wondering if and when she’d ever see him again. She’d always believed she deserved better than that.

A gentle knock upon her door surprised her, and she padded over to peer through the peephole.

David. All spit-shined for a Monday morning at the office. One look was enough to reel her back with guilt.

Iris drew a breath. She swore to pocket last night as a keepsake and live with the consequences. A single night of passion was one thing, but she needed stability in her future. Hoping to hell she could count on Mickey to lie low, she unbolted the door. “David, what are you—”

He hurried through the doorway, his briefcase clutched in his hands. “Thank heavens you’re safe. I couldn’t reach you at all yesterday, and then last night your phone didn’t seem to ring at all, it just sent me directly to your voice mail.” As an afterthought, he stopped to peck her on the cheek.

“I’m fine, really.”

“Yeah? Why is there a policeman at your door?”

“What?” Iris blinked at him. In the hopes of proving him wrong, she went back to the door and reopened it. Standing a few feet from the threshold was the officer she’d met the night before. “Are you still here?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Why?”

“Detective Hunter’s orders.”

“Ah, right.” She started to close the door, then peeked back out. “Do you want some coffee or anything—” she squinted to read the name on his uniform, “—Officer Foote?”

“No, ma’am. Not while I’m on duty. But thank you.” More than a uniform, he was young and earnest.

“How long do you intend to stand there?”

“Detective Hunter said he’d be here by eight.”

Apparently she’d get a chance to ask Hunter all her burning questions in thirty minutes. She’d have to warn Mickey before Hunter arrived.

But first she had to deal with David. “Thank you,” she said to the officer before closing the door. Pushing a stray curl from her vision, she turned to David. “Apparently I’m being watched. When Hunter gets here, I’ll ask him why.”

“I’ll tell you why—they’re waiting for your father to turn up. If he contacts you, Iris, you need to turn him in.”

It occurred to her that in David’s mind, it was that simple. The police wanted her father, so she should turn him over. No questions asked. Taking a good hard look at David, she wondered if he ever questioned anything after he’d made up his mind.

Then she wondered why she was questioning it.

Her best rejoinder was a noncommittal grunt. “Would you like some coffee?” Not waiting for a response, she padded past him to the kitchen.

David followed, laying his briefcase on the counter while she poured his coffee into a mug.

She handed it to him without making eye contact. Would he know by looking at her that she’d—? Thank heavens she’d showered.

David was droning on about his golf game. “You should have been there to watch us. Hank got Cubbins to fill in as our fourth, and his handicap is a fifteen. He was all over the place. I haven’t laughed so hard in ages.”

She smiled in his general direction, but he picked up on her preoccupation.

“Are you sure everything is all right?” he asked in a quieter voice.

“Just tired, is all.”

He sipped his coffee, watching her. “Long day at the store yesterday?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I—”

“Good God, what’s that?” David set his coffee down so sharply it splattered over his cuff.

Iris looked wildly around for men with guns but then realized he was pointing at Edgar. The rabbit, all white and fluffy, hopped across her living room. He’d managed to lose his collar some time during the night.

“It’s a rabbit,” he said.

“That’s Edgar. He’s Cosmo’s rabbit from the magic act.”

“Oh, Iris. No.”

David was shaking his head at her as if she were a troublesome child who’d crayoned on the walls. She’d seen that expression before, though never directed at her. Right now, it was irritating as hell.

“Is that why the police officer is here?”

“What?” Now she was totally confused.

“Your father’s here, isn’t he? You promised me you wouldn’t get involved in his escapades. You know how detrimental any legal problems will be to my career, my future as a politician. How could you do to this to me?”

“To you? To you?” Iris had always been so careful to curb her temper around David, but this was too much. “Do you want to know what I did yesterday? I was abducted from my store. I was taken at gunpoint by two men and hidden in an apartment and tied to a chair. I was threatened with bodily harm if I didn’t hand over some mythical jewels. I escaped by sheer determination and with the help of a jewel thief who barely managed to get us out of the building before hired killers came for us.”

Dumbstruck, David stared at her uncharacteristic eruption. Finally, he said, “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about my day yesterday, David. But you’re not interested in me, are you? You’re too worried I might be hiding Cosmo somewhere in this apartment and that it will harm your career.” She drew a breath and recklessly jumped off a cliff. “Well, you can relax. I’m not hiding Cosmo. I’m hiding someone else entirely.”

David eyed her warily. “I think maybe you’ve had enough caffeine this morning.”

“Enough that I’m finally waking up.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Remember my cousin Mickey? Well, what if I told you he’s not my cousin. He’s my lover. And he spent last night here, with me. In bed. What do you say to that?”

“I’d say you’re being ridiculous.” He straightened his tie, letting her know he found her whole tirade distasteful.

Where the hell was Mickey? Him and his a-guy-that’ll-fight-for-you routine? Iris wasn’t sure which man she was angrier with, but it was time to drive her point home. Stalking past David, she marched to the bedroom and flung open the door.

To find an empty, pristine room. Her bed was made, the blinds were open to the rising sun, all clothing was picked up and put away. She darted for the bathroom, but it, too, was empty. She turned to find David standing in the bedroom doorway.

“Are you through with this little game, Iris? It’s most unbecoming.”

Mickey had vanished like a shadow before an oncoming storm. Well, what had she expected? She’d been the one to say no promises, no regrets. Thank God he’d missed her embarrassing tirade.

David straightened his cuffs with a hefty sigh. “I apologize for falsely accusing you of harboring your fugitive father, but I don’t see why you felt the need to go to such extremes to shame me. I’ve got to go to work now, but I’ll come by tonight. I think this bears more discussion.” He turned to leave.

“David, wait.” She hurried to him. “I’m sorry. The truth is, I’m not the woman you think I am, and I can’t go on pretending this will work.” She tugged the engagement ring from her left hand and pressed it into his. “I can’t marry you.”

He looked down at the diamond before his gaze returned to her. “We can talk about this tonight. You’re not yourself right now.”

Iris laughed. “That’s just it. I am myself, maybe for the first time in months—years!”

“But we had our future all mapped out. This was what we both wanted.”

She thought of Mickey. The closest they’d come to a future plan was promising not to keep secrets from each other in bed.

“No, it’s what you wanted, and God, how I tried to fit myself into your plan. But I won’t cut myself off from my family. And you know Cosmo—you can’t afford to have him be a part of your public life. Well, I won’t allow anyone to dictate to me and tell me my father can’t be a part of my life.”

His brow furrowed, David pocketed the ring. “I thought you were as fed up with his antics as anyone. You said you wanted to put distance between you and him.”

“I said it. I even believed it. But I never meant it.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” He peered down at her with all that earnestness that was bound to get him elected. “Because you’re not making any sense this morning.”

“No, I suppose not.” She took his hand once more. “You’re a good person and, frankly, you deserve someone better than me. You’ve got an ideal partner all picked out, now you just have to go find her.”

David’s face flushed and he pulled away. “I’m sorry you feel this way, Iris. I’ll be at the office if you change your mind.”

She stifled the urge to beat her head against the nearest wall. But this, she realized, was David’s biggest flaw yet greatest virtue—he thought only with his practical mind and never his heart. “I wish you well, David.”

“Goodbye, then.” He stopped to retrieve his briefcase, then quietly let himself out the door, leaving Iris alone.

She hung her head, overwhelmed by this change of course she’d just made in her life. It frightened and exhilarated her. Slowly, she walked back to the bedroom. “Mickey?”

There was no answer.

Not that she’d expected him to be hiding in the closet or beneath her bed. She checked both places, just to be sure. He’d pulled a vanishing act, as simple and effective as any Cosmo had ever managed in his life.

David deserved a better woman than one who would cheat on him with a man she barely knew. And she’d gotten what she deserved—a guy who gave her the best sex she’d ever had, then disappeared without a word or a promise.

***

Traffic—if you could call three cars, a cab and a garbage truck that—was light. Cory fed the parking meter while she absorbed the near silence of a Monday morning in downtown. The strident beeping of a truck in reverse quickly shattered the moment, but that just reassured her that though the Fremont Street district might look like a ghost town at this hour, it just needed a few hours to refresh and rejuvenate.

Yesterday afternoon had been a total washout for her. Once Allie discovered she couldn’t find Iris, she’d convinced Hunter he should be worried. Cory got swept along with the two of them as they went to search Lying Eyes, but the only thing out of place there was what looked like a small cat litter box.

Man, the way Allie reacted to that, you’d think she could picture someone holding a gun to that rabbit’s head. It was bad enough she was spouting off that she feared Iris had been abducted, but the look on Hunter’s face was what had finally scared Cory.

He’d looked like he thought Allie might be right.

Cory had stuck with them until she had to leave for work. Around one in the morning, Allie had left a message on her cell that Iris and Edgar were both safe at home. While she was glad Iris was okay, Cory was still irritated that her own search had been delayed.

She entered the lobby of the Golden Gate Hotel, its small dark interior a throwback to an earlier era. The clerk nodded sleepily to her as she passed through into the casino area. Like many of the casinos up here, the low ceilings gave a sense of cavelike safety and tranquility. Fewer lights and bells, smaller spaces, darker colors than their Strip counterparts, these casinos tended to attract the locals.

Cory had met plenty of them during her two years working this area. Most new dealers took years to work their way into a job at the big casinos. She’d been lucky Papa had a few connections. That, and she was damn good at her job.

The Golden Gate’s casino was practically empty, so Cory passed on through to exit the Fremont Street entrance. From here, it was a short walk down to the Four Queens. This time, she’d run her quarry to ground.

She steeled herself. She’d avoided answers for so many years, she wasn’t sure she wanted them anymore.

***

Justin sipped his tea as he entered Iris Fortune’s apartment building on Monday morning. He was hoping today would hold fewer screwy surprises for him, but that hope got shot to hell when the elevator opened to reveal Mickey inside.

Cool as could be, Mickey walked past him without a glance.

Justin didn’t miss the telltale bruising on Mickey’s temple, or the grim cast to his unshaven jaw. He’d gotten into some sort of trouble last night. As much as Justin wanted to follow him and get answers, it was too public. If anyone recognized Mickey talking to a cop, both of them could be toast.

He breathed deeply and regularly while he rode up to the eighteenth floor. It wasn’t his place to judge, nor to control. Since Mickey was putting his life on the line for this case, who could blame him for grasping a little passion? If Justin were fifteen years younger, he might do the same thing.

The memory of Allie’s creamy skin and big tawny eyes made him curse under his breath. That was never going to happen—she probably thought of him as a kindly old uncle. She trusted him, for crying out loud.

The elevator doors opened and Justin found himself staring at a businessman who looked vaguely familiar.

“Excuse me,” the guy said.

They passed each other, but it wasn’t until after the elevator doors closed that Justin realized the man was David Grantham.

Well, well, well. Iris Fortune must have had an interesting morning.

Foote was still standing by her door.

“Any activity here last night?” Hunter sipped his tea.

“Kincaid spent the night with her.” Foote delivered the news deadpan, though questions hung all over the hallway. He was the only uniformed cop who knew Mickey’s true identity. They’d had to bring Foote in on the secret when the young cop hauled Mickey’s ass into jail one night.

Hunter continued to drink his tea, silence being a loud and clear order to drop the subject. Hooking a thumb toward the elevator, he asked, “What about the other guy I just saw?”

“He arrived maybe ten minutes ago. Wouldn’t give his name.”

“I know him. He find Kincaid with her?”

“Near as I can tell, Kincaid snuck out.” Foote struggled to dampen a smile.

“I’ll bet,” Hunter said drily. Obviously, Mickey was rubbing off on this kid, and not in a good way.

Foote cleared his throat. “I heard her voice raised, but not the businessman’s. He was dead quiet when he left.”

“Okay, you’ve got four hours, then I need you at her store at the Bellagio.”

“Yes, sir,” the kid said eagerly. “Do I need to file any kind of report?”

“No. In fact, forget everything you saw and heard.”

***

Cory strolled through the Four Queens’ equally empty casino. Papa wouldn’t be playing poker at this hour, but she checked the poker room anyway. A single dealer looking in need of a cup of coffee before he fell asleep from sheer boredom was the sole occupant of the playing area.

Knots formed in Cory’s stomach. Papa had never cut her off so completely before. He probably had no idea how this terrified her—or maybe he did. Maybe that’s why he’d sought her out on Saturday, so she could see for herself that he was safe. He wouldn’t just disappear without a word, not like—

Hell, she was avoiding the inevitable. Papa had one more woman besides his daughters in his life. A woman he loved and trusted. A woman who would help him, no matter the danger.

A woman only Cory knew about.

Not that she was supposed to know. Oh no, that was obvious.

Cory coursed the empty roulette wheels and craps tables, working her way deeper into the casino. Toward the back was a bar, also empty at this hour, save for some skinny girl wearing a UNLV hoodie. She was practically curled into a ball in her barstool, talking to the bartender. Poor girl had probably been here all night spilling her woes to whoever would listen.

But it was the bartender who held Cory’s attention. A woman in her early fifties, Latina, with dark hair pulled back and coiled into a bun. Few wrinkles marred her face, but her body had gotten heavier with years, giving her a matronly roundness. Her cheekbones were high and angular, her nose thin and straight. Her eyes were the color of roasted coffee beans, and she always smelled faintly of rosewater.

At least, that’s how Cory remembered her. But it had been a long time. Fifteen years. Only concern for Papa would drive Cory to speak to this woman now.

She approached the bar with the same confidence she’d face a firing squad. At her sides, her hands were tightened into fists.

The bartender looked up as she approached, and Cory watched the older woman’s eyes widen in disbelief, shock, horror.

Yeah, happy Monday morning to you, too.

“Cory,” the woman breathed.

Down the bar, the skinny woman’s head turned. “Cory? It is you. I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”

Shit, it was Allie again. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Like a turtle coming out of its shell, Allie pushed the hood back to reveal her blond hair pulled into a long braid. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I drove up here to visit with Mrs. Livingston.”

Cory glanced at the bartender, who had the grace to blush.

“Pouring out your troubles to a barmaid, Allie?” On closer inspection, Allie’s face looked hollow and pale with fatigue, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been crying.

“Oh, it’s not like that. Mrs. Livingston was one of my sitters while I was growing up. I thought Daddy might have left a message with her.”

Cory looked from Allie to the bartender. “No luck, huh?”

With a swipe at the bar counter, Mrs. Livingston shook her head. “He left me a phone message Saturday afternoon. Told me he wasn’t dead yet. Haven’t heard from him since.” She licked her top lip. “Can I get you something?”

The fifteen years you owe me.

“Yeah, Cory.” Allie glanced at her watch. “Have some coffee.”

“I just got off work. I don’t want coffee.” She looked at the pink frothy beverage before Allie. “What are you having?”

“Virgin strawberry daiquiri. I’ve got class in two hours.”

“Sounds good. I’ll have one of those.”

Allie smiled. Clasping her drink, she shifted out of her barstool and came down to join Cory. They sat in silence while the blender whirred behind the bar.

When the drink arrived, complete with a tiny yellow parasol, Allie leaned forward. “Mrs. Livingston, this is one of my sisters, Corazon Fortune. Cory, this is—”

“You don’t need to introduce us,” Cory said flatly. “Mrs. Livingston there is my mother.”

***

Acknowledging Mickey’s disappearance and accepting it were two different things. Iris added more hot coffee to her cup while contemplating her next move. Cosmo had been at her store again last night. Had he taken something, or left something? She needed to find out.

Surely she’d be safe at her store? If she kept to the public areas of the hotel and casino and then locked herself inside, she should be fine. It would be a long time before she opened a door without being sure who was outside.

Realizing her sudden insecurity stemmed from the loss of Mickey’s comforting presence, she gave herself a good, hard mental shake. She was fine on her own. Always had been. Always would be. And she shouldn’t be standing around here doing nothing just because she’d flushed some vision of her future down the toilet.

Edgar hopped into the kitchen to eyeball her, his little pink nose twitching.

“Right. First thing, I should find your collar.” She didn’t know how, when or where Cosmo had gotten those gems, but at some point they were going to have to be returned. She could just picture it—armed guards showing up to demand the gems and there she’d be, stuck with a vacant look on her face. Well, I’m sure they’re here somewhere…

“Come on, Eddy, where’d you stash them?” Iris leaned down to rub Edgar’s silky haunches. He hopped from beneath her hand but sat up to nuzzle the pale blue cotton of her yoga pants, making her smile.

She moved slowly from room to room, scanning the floors for the collar. Part of her morning would have to be spent picking up bunny droppings and cleaning that spot near the corn plant where Edgar had peed. But that was a surface annoyance. Her deeper fears multiplied as she completed one circuit of the apartment.

The collar was nowhere in sight.

“Probably underneath something,” she muttered as she drew her hair into a ponytail and banded it. The words did little to reassure her. She lay down on her belly to look under the sofa. Nothing. Two chairs and a small ottoman later, same thing.

Her stomach tightened in knots as the obvious sank in. Pulling herself to her feet, she dashed into the bedroom to look under the bed. Flat carpet greeted her. “God, no.” Tears stung her eyes as she rolled around to sit with her back against the bed, her knees drawn up.

The collar wasn’t just missing. It was gone. And it sure as hell hadn’t walked out of here with David.

“But how could he have known?” she whispered. And then she saw the sunlight pouring in her window. Hell, Edgar must have hopped into a sunbeam—and Mickey had dressed and been out the door in ten seconds flat. He’d been playing her all night. She’d thrown herself at him, and he’d taken her to bed just to win her trust.

Her hands fisted as anger erupted. “That lying, thieving son of a bitch!” She smacked the floor, hoping to forestall the tears. Too late—a flood of them escaped on a sob.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d only been after the gems. Well, what had ever made her think she could capture the attention of a man like Mickey? She hadn’t even been able to hold her own father’s attention for more than a few days at a time. That’s what had made David so appealing—his attentions weren’t overt, but they also never strayed. Well, not to other women anyway. Just to work, politics, golf…

God, she was such a loser. A ten-million-dollar loser.

A brisk knock at her front door drove her to her feet. The clock said just after eight, so that must be Hunter. Good. She strode to the door thinking she could use him and the whole LVMPD about now.

“I want you to hunt him down and arrest his ass,” she said as soon as she opened the door. The words came out louder than she intended, reverberating down the empty hallway.

Hunter froze, his cup of tea steaming just below his lip. “Would you care to clarify whose ass you mean?”

She swallowed her frustration—barely. “Get in here. It’s bad enough you’ve had me under surveillance. I don’t need all my neighbors learning about my life.”

He scanned her living room. “Pretty busy here this morning?”

Damn him.

“For the record, you weren’t under surveillance. I thought you might need protection.”

“How ironic. Apparently, I did.”

Hunter was immediately alert. “From whom? Grantham?”

“No. Michael Kincaid. Ever heard of him?”

He scratched the back of his head while he thought about it. “I think Allie mentioned he was your cousin.” For a cop, he sure sounded evasive, but then he probably didn’t want her prying into how much time he was spending with her sister.

“He says he’s my cousin, but he’s not.” She expelled a bitter laugh.

“What is he?” Hunter asked.

Iris tossed up her arms and took a turn around the living room. “He’s working with these people who’ve been looking for Cosmo. He’s a lying thief and con man and possibly a killer.”

“Friendly little guy, isn’t he?”

She spun around at Hunter’s glibness to find him hunkered down, letting Edgar sniff his tea. The rabbit reared up on his hind legs, his nose twitching like—

—like her body had under Mickey’s fingers last night. Iris buried her face in her hands.

“You were saying about Michael Kincaid?”

She started, afraid he’d somehow read her mind. When she looked over, Hunter had risen and was watching her.

He laid his tea on a side table and pulled a notepad from his jacket. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

Iris sighed. “Let me get some coffee.” Her pants swished around her ankles as she led him into the kitchen.

As succinctly as she could, she recapped her experiences with Mickey over the past few days. This included how he’d broken into her home, her store, how she’d been abducted by men claiming to be his friends, and how he’d rescued her—though she now suspected that might have been set up to earn her trust. She sidestepped mentioning any overt body contact between them.

“Did you sleep with him?” Hunter asked. She bet he’d use the same tone if he were asking whether she’d lost her wallet.

Iris unclenched her jaw. “Yes.” How much had Officer Foote heard from the hallway last night? If she’d known he was still there, she would have been quieter. Well, she would have tried anyway.

“And the other man who came here this morning?”

“David Grantham. He stopped by on his way to work this morning.”

“Your fiancé, right?”

She licked her lips. “Ah, no. Not anymore. My former fiancé.”

His eyes narrowed to scrutinize her. “He broke it off with you?”

“No, thank you very much, I broke it off with him.” She set her cup down with a clatter. “Not that I think it falls into your professional jurisdiction to ask.”

“Sorry, you’re right. It’s just that I know you’ve had an emotional weekend.”

“Hey, I’m down one crackpot father and up two pretty younger sisters. Most people would say I’ve been dealt a better hand.”

He adjusted his tie. “I’m sorry.”

She hated that she could see he was. Tears stung her eyes again. “Forget it. What else do you need to know?”

“I think that will do it.” Hunter scooted his chair back and rose. “You realize now you should have turned those gems in to the police as soon as you discovered them, right?”

“Thanks. Next time, you give me my father, and I’ll give you the gems.”

“I thought you didn’t refer to him as your father?”

Iris eyed Hunter, wondering if she could be arrested for telling a cop to go to hell. “Go to hell.” Testing the theory made her feel better.

Hunter cracked a smile. Oddly enough, it looked genuine and…nice. “We’ll do what we can to pick up this Jock and Pebbles and, er, Mickey Kincaid, of course. Meanwhile, I want you to be very aware of your surroundings. I’ve asked Officer Foote to be at your store by noon. I assume you’ll want to go there today.”

She hoped he had no knowledge of Cosmo’s visits to her store, but she had to admit Foote’s presence would be welcome. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I’ll wait downstairs until you’re ready to go over.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary.”

“You don’t have a car here, do you?” He raised a knowing brow at her, and all her good feeling toward him evaporated. “No rush. Take your time.”

After Hunter left, Iris leaned against the door, drained. At least she didn’t feel like crying anymore. That took too much energy.

Edgar hobbled over to sniff at her bare toes.

“You are a sweetie, aren’t you?” She kneeled down and gathered the monster rabbit into her arms. “What do you say, Edgar? How did we get into this big a mess?” His whiskers tickled as he nuzzled a tear from her cheek.

Iris wished Allie were here to interpret. That alone probably meant she was losing it.

An hour later she arrived at the store with Edgar loaded into a duffel bag. Ginny grinned and babbled about how scary it had been when Iris’s sister kept calling and then came to search for her. When Iris unveiled Edgar and set him loose in the back room, Ginny forgot all about yesterday in lieu of her delight over the furry bunny.

Iris left the two of them playing while she looked around her workbench, eager to search before Foote arrived. Nothing was out of place. Still, Cosmo had been here last night. Why? The stones.

Unerringly, she went to drawer thirty-three and unlocked it. Pulling out the tray of fake alexandrite, she rifled through the stones, but they all looked the same. The small box was still there, and she opened it to check inside.

A folded paper lay on the white foam. Perplexed, Iris unfolded the paper. It was blank but for a single oversized question mark.

Iris stared at it, her own question just as big. “Cosmo, where are you?”

Chapter Twelve

“Corazon.” The name left her mother’s lips in a reverent whisper. In the dim light of the casino bar, tears dotted the cocoa eyes, but Cory couldn’t respond to the heartfelt emotion.

Her own heart was still encased in bitterness, too raw to ignore. This woman had betrayed her, abandoned her.

Cory had never understood why. What had she done that was awful enough to drive her own mother away? At least she knew part of why Mama had never come back—she’d found a better daughter in Allie. Golden, blonde, sweet, loving. Not temperamental and demanding like Cory. Allie was the model daughter.

She turned, bracing herself for Allie to say something happy. But Allie sat watching her, her brow knit with empathy. “Do you want me to leave so you can talk to your mom?”

“No, stay. I don’t think we have anything to say to each other.”

Allie reached a tentative hand across the bar’s surface and patted her fingers. “Sure you do. You just need to find the words.”

Cory closed her eyes. She’d never been that great with words.

“Talk to me, Cory,” her mother said.

“No.” Cory pushed back her drink. “I don’t think I will. I got what I came for. If you don’t know where Papa is, then we have nothing further to discuss.” She rose, pulled a wallet from her purse and dug for a bill to settle her tab.

Finding a twenty-five dollar casino chip, she slid it across the bar. “There’s a quarter. That should cover my drink, don’t you think?”

“Drink’s on the house.”

“Keep it as a tip.” Cory shouldered her bag.

Her mother raised a hand, and for a second it looked like she might reach out, but she let it slip to her side again. “You know where to find me,” she said.

Cory turned away without a word. Her mother had always known where to find her. She just hadn’t bothered.

***

In the shadows of the Four Queens casino, Cosmo emptied ashtrays into a rolling trash can. He wore a blue janitorial jumpsuit and a vacant expression. He didn’t have to fake the yawns. He felt like he’d been on the run for days.

He watched from behind a slot machine as Cory hurried from the bar, straight through the casino. He tracked her toward the muted light filtering through the tinted doors.

Distress emanated from her as she stumbled along her path. He wanted to stop her, to wrap her in a hug, but it would be foolish to reveal himself here. He’d do his daughters no good by winding up dead.

Wouldn’t do much for him, either.

Allie left a few minutes later, her hood up, her head bent, as if she just wanted to hide.

As casually as possible, Cosmo maneuvered his rolling garbage can toward the back of the casino. There wasn’t anyone else around, so he tilted up the bill of his hat to contemplate the woman behind the bar.

“About time you showed up,” she said to him. No surprise lit her eyes at seeing him—no happiness, either. Those eyes showed nothing but resignation, as if to say, “Oh God, you found me again.”

Cosmo scratched his chin, suddenly at a loss for words.

“A little late to the party, but you’re welcome to clean up the remains of those two virgin strawberry daiquiris.”

“Coffee.”

She considered him, that hard look around her eyes softening some. “You don’t need coffee. You need about three days’ sleep.”

He leaned on the bar and smiled slowly. “It’s good to see you, Roxana.”

“Yeah?” She leaned into him for just a moment before she remembered. Quickly, she straightened, stepped back and tugged her black vest down in a neat, controlled gesture. “Well, don’t do me any more favors.”

“I might die any day.” He looked up at the ceiling.

“I doubt your soul will head in that direction.”

He snapped his gaze to her. “You’re angry—”

“Of course I’m angry!” She gripped the bar, her knuckles turning white. Her vehement whisper came out as a hiss. “Who the hell is Iris?”

Cosmo paused. He’d somehow lost track that Roxana knew about Allie, but he’d never told her about Iris. “What’s one more?”

“What’s—?” She vented a growl. “It’s—it’s double bigamy!”

“Technically, it’s trigamy.”

“Goddamn you, Cosmo Fortune—”

He placed a finger to his lips.

“I repeat, who’s Iris?” Again, her voice dropped to a teakettle hiss.

“She’s my eldest.”

“So, we got married, then you went off for your gig with that Russian circus, and while you were over there, you conceived a child and got married again?” She placed both hands palm down on the bar, her shuddering breath the only evidence of how hard she was working to restrain herself from violence. “This isn’t the time or place for this.”

“Roxana, I can see why you’d be upset, but I need you. Iris is in danger, and Cory feels betrayed, and Allie—well, Allie wants to help so much she could get hurt. What do I do about them?”

She studied him for a few moments, her eyes narrowed as if she were dissecting him and trying to figure out what was inside.

Cosmo fingered his collar, uncomfortable with what she might discover.

“Have you considered telling them the truth?” she asked at last. “Assuming you even know what that is anymore.”

The truth. He scratched his ear. Well, it was certainly a unique approach. “You’re right. You see? I need you, Roxana. The girls need you. We’ve got to find a way to fix this, because I want you in my life again.”

“You know that can’t be.”

“I know no such thing. You’re my wife. Given the opportunity, why wouldn’t I move heaven and earth to regain you?”

“Flattery.” She cleared the daiquiri glasses from the bar. “I was one of your wives. Go find another woman.”

“I’ve tried, but there’s no magic, no spark. Help me, Roxana. I miss you. I need you.”

She contemplated him with a sad smile. “Oh, Cosmo. Roxana Fortune is supposed to be dead. Living with you again could kill all of us.”

***

Mickey’s eyes roamed the late morning crowd at the sidewalk cafe beneath the shadow of a replica Eiffel Tower—one half size of the original. Everything looked normal, but in Vegas, that was a far cry from back home. Here, normal included killers, madcap magicians, stolen Russian gems, carnivorous rabbits and a russet-haired siren who’d had him completely fooled.

He spied Hunter seated at the far corner table, as far back from the street as possible. Sipping tea, he was half-hidden by an open newspaper. It was the perfect meeting spot, so public, no one would ever guess to seek them here. Mickey pulled up a chair. From here, they had a clear view across Las Vegas Boulevard to the Bellagio’s small lake where fountains erupted into a spectacle every evening. In the late morning heat, the lake stood quiet.

Hunter laid down the daily paper he’d been reading. “Took you long enough.” He waved to a waiter.

“I needed to go through some photos. I finally met him.”

Hunter pursed his lips as the waiter arrived with a cup of coffee and a baguette.

Mickey remained silent until the waiter walked out of earshot. “The top guy. He had a limo waiting on me for the drop last night.”

“Did you ID him?”

Mickey shook his head in frustration. “He didn’t match any of the photos. I feel like I’ve seen his face before, but I can’t place him. Another city, another job, I don’t know. I got Millie to do a composite sketch. It’s all over the APBs now.”

“And it took you over twelve hours to get us that info?” Hunter contemplated him over his cup of tea.

“I was a little tied up.” Mickey raised his brows. “Literally.”

Hunter’s lip curled into a semblance of a smile. “Yeah. I liked that part of Iris’s story this morning.”

“She told you?”

“Sure, she told me all about Mickey Kincaid. Lover, liar, con man, thief. Where are they?”

Mickey tugged Edgar’s collar from his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the white tablecloth. In the daylight, the gems were green. Not that olive green like the simulated copies he’d delivered yesterday. These were really green.

Hunter was nonplussed. “They look like fake emeralds.”

“Yeah? You got your flashlight on you?”

Hunter extracted a Pocket Mag while Mickey tented the newspaper to create some shade. When the flashlight beam hit the first stone, it turned red.

“Holy shit.” The beam wavered as the two men made eye contact beneath the newspaper tent. “You think these are what they’re all after?”

“Iris says they’re easily worth ten million. Men have killed for less.” Mickey refolded the paper and laid it atop the collar, hiding it from view. “You’ll need to take that into the lab and have it tested. If they’re real, Iris should be arrested as an accessory to grand theft.”

Hunter raised his brow. “Yeah? Theft from whom?”

“I’m more interested in for whom.” Mickey leaned back in his chair, frustrated as hell with the day so far. He’d spent the night with a woman he’d been fantasizing about for days, only to discover this morning that she’d been keeping secrets from him. Ten secrets, to be exact. He’d wanted to squeeze her for the truth, but then her fiancé showed up.

Even Mickey would have been hard-pressed to come up with an excuse for why cousin Mickey was sleeping at Iris’s two nights in a row.

He downed some more black coffee, its bitter flavor reminding him how he’d stolen out of her apartment like the thief he claimed to be while she talked to David in the kitchen. He’d wanted to spare her the indignity of an emotional scene. He’d wanted to be sure he didn’t fall prey to the urge to pop that self-important dildo in the nose.

Either she was in on this theft with Cosmo, or she was innocent—in which case she needed to have the freedom to live her planned-out future with David. Life, liberty and the pursuit of limited imagination. Limited passion. Mediocrity. God, she deserved better. But then, she’d set the parameters—one night, no strings, no promises.

“Mickey, listen.” Hunter’s voice dragged him back to the table. “We have ten million in gems that Cosmo claimed he stole, but no one’s ever reported the gems missing.”

“They’re killing people.”

“I know. But arresting Iris Fortune isn’t going to help find the killers. In fact, I think leaving Iris Fortune on the street may be our best bet.”

“She’d be safer locked up.”

Hunter tapped a staccato beat on the table with his forefinger. “So, do you want her arrested for breaking the law, or do you want her in protective custody?”

“She lied to me, Justin.”

“Come on, what did you expect? She thinks you’re a thief.”

Mickey ducked his head. The first time they’d come together in impetuous passion, all physical need. Hell, he knew the adrenaline rush that came with cheating death. She was high as a kite on it last night. But the second time they’d lingered over each other. He’d never forget the glow of her tawny eyes. God, she’d been magnificent all night—from the moment she came back to rescue him until nearly dawn. “Thief or not, she thought I was a good person.”

Hunter barked a short laugh. “Well, you shot that to hell this morning when you took the collar. How did you know?”

“Edgar hopped into a sunbeam and bam. At first I couldn’t believe it, and then I heard David come in.”

“And you ducked out.”

Mickey bristled. “Dammit, she’s got a life planned with him, and I’m just a blip on the radar. So yeah, collar in hand, David in the kitchen, I got the hell out of there.”

“And you’re the one talking about trying to keep her safe.”

“Look, Hunter, I do what I have to do to solve the case. I saved Iris’s life last night, and when I left her this morning, she was unharmed. So what’s your beef?”

“The harm isn’t always physical, you know. You can’t always be thinking of the job first.”

Mickey stilled as more of Suze’s words came back to smack him. You Kincaid men—always the law first, protect the innocent, save lives, but never any thought given to your families, your wives. You selfish bastards. His sister-in-law had always been honest and forthright.

Hunter paused over his tea. “She broke her engagement with Grantham.”

“What?” Mickey sputtered. No way had that been an accident—Hunter had purposely waited until he was trying to swallow a mouthful of coffee. He mopped at his chin with a napkin. “I have to go see her.”

“You can try, but she was screaming for your blood this morning.”

“You didn’t tell her the truth about me?”

“How was I supposed to know you wanted me to? You stole the one thing she believes might save her father, and then you took off. I’m not a mind reader.”

“Shit.” Iris must be so pissed at him. “But even if she thinks I’m a thief, she knows she can count on me to help Cosmo. I’ve been telling her that all along.”

“Actions speak louder than words, Mick.”

“When did you get so judgmental?”

“You didn’t see her this morning.” Hunter sighed. “She’s at her shop. Go talk to her. There’s a Bellagio security guard keeping an eye on things until Foote takes over at noon. I’ll tell him to check when he arrives and make sure she didn’t have you detained.”

“You wouldn’t leave me cooling my heels with Bellagio security all morning,” he scoffed.

“Are you kidding? You waited twelve hours before following up on a lead, you slept with a potential witness, you stole evidence from her apartment without any kind of warrant. You did just about everything you could to compromise this investigation. You’re lucky I’m not asking for your badge.”

Mickey stiffened under the lashing. “Why don’t you? If that’s how you feel?”

Hunter stared at him then slowly shook his head. “Because you look like shit. And there’s nothing more heartbreaking than watching a strong woman not cry. Now go fix it.”

“How?”

“Only you and she can decide that.”

***

Cosmo stood in the center of a spacious suite, humming “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” while he waited for his hostess. After leaving Roxana, he’d changed from janitor to Tasteful Tourist, with chinos and a polo shirt sporting a designer label.

Marko and Viktor wasted no time in making themselves scarce. Muttering something about coffee, they’d beat a hasty retreat upon Cosmo’s arrival. Viktor claimed Sergei was still asleep, but Cosmo had seen the boy hailing a cab out front. No doubt Sergei was eager to seek some adventure in this city. Though a Monday morning was pretty dull.

He looked over the suite with its bold colors, intricate woodwork and plush fabrics. The Bellagio had gone all out. But then the interior had to compete with that amazing view of the little villas, the wooded hillside, the lake with its stone bridges allowing traffic out to Las Vegas Boulevard. A little bit of Italy right smack dab in the middle of the desert.

God, he loved Vegas.

“Cosmo? What was that trick you pulled last night?” Tatiana entered the suite’s living room from one of the bedrooms using only a cane to guide her ungainly walk. She wore a pale pink skirt and white cotton blouse with a high ruffled collar, which only emphasized her patchy skin and turkeylike neck. The once-dramatic eyes were a little cloudy now, but despite any fatigue from her global journey, Cosmo could only hope that when he hit eighty, he’d have her energy.

“And where are my gems?” she demanded.

Not to mention her singleness of purpose. He awaited her advance without cringing, though he was poised to duck that cane if she swung it suddenly. He hadn’t forgotten the colorful threats she’d made when he’d first told her he was marrying Irina.

“Greet me properly.” She motioned him to embrace her, and when he did, she grasped him with surprisingly strong fingers around the shoulders and pulled him into a hug. Then she kissed him on both cheeks while he tried not to choke on her flowery perfume.

“I thought you were angry with me.”

“I am angry with you. But you are family.” She threw him a look as she settled herself onto the sofa with the grace of a ballerina. She’d once been a bareback rider with a circus. And he wasn’t buying that wheelchair act. Even at her age, she could probably still kick the shit out of him. If that proved too strenuous for her, her nephews would see to it that he never walked again.

Dammit, if Mickey hadn’t interfered, he might have had this all wrapped up by now.

Tatiana motioned for him to sit, so he sat. “You took them, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question.

He nodded.

“Those gems have been in my family since before I was born. They are a talisman to ward off evil. And you would take that from us?”

“You said yourself they were copies.”

“Of the highest quality. They are a treasure. I want them back.”

Cosmo thought hard and fast. But the truth was, he’d been stalling ever since Sergei had warned him the family was flying out here. Things hadn’t gone as planned, and now he couldn’t think up any lies fast enough that would satisfy this dragon.

Tell them the truth, Roxana had said about his daughters. What the hell. Maybe it would work on Aunt Tatiana, too.

“I…I stole them because I thought it was the only way to get you to come all the way to Las Vegas. I wanted Iris to meet her family, to see for herself that craftsmanship with gems is her heritage.” Hell, he never had been any good at telling the truth. Maybe this lie would do the trick.

“I would love to meet my grand-niece. All you had to do was ask.” She bounced her forefinger off her chin a few times while a distant smile lit her eyes. “Ahh, but the great Cosmo Fortune never asks, does he. He takes. Like you took my Irina.”

“She was your niece, not your pet,” he said testily.

“She was the best jeweler born to our family in three generations. She came to America, and she never looked back.” Tatiana pursed her lips as she shook her head sadly. “She loved you. She said you made her happy.”

Cosmo’s throat tightened. Eight years hadn’t lessened the pain of losing Irina so suddenly. “I did my best.”

“Very well, give me back my gems, and all is forgiven.”

“As to that—” Cosmo leaned forward, “—how about if I bring Rissie by tonight?”

Her features grew sharper with suspicion. “Last night you said we could meet this morning.”

“Yes, well, um, Iris was engaged this morning.”

This lit Tatiana’s face. “She is to be married?”

Another slip of his tongue, but Cosmo ran with it. “Yes, as a matter of fact, she’s engaged to marry an attorney. He’s planning to go into politics.”

“Then I am glad I came. There are traditions. As her family, we must prepare her a bride gift.”

“I don’t recall you giving Irina a bride gift.”

“You ran away with her. You didn’t deserve a bride with a bride gift. You’re lucky we let you keep your bride.”

Cosmo suspected if Tatiana ever got wind that he’d already had two other wives when he married Irina, he would have been lucky to keep his genitals.

She attempted to rise. “Take me downstairs to see her shop. I want to meet her.”

Cosmo hopped to his feet while she continued to struggle. “Oh, Aunt Tatiana, reconsider. Her first meeting with you shouldn’t be in a public place, not while she’s working. Iris will have clients, orders, merchandise. Mondays are very busy days for her.” Perspiration moistened his brow, but he didn’t dare draw her attention to it. Damn, the old girl always had made him break out in a sweat. She was as close as he’d ever come to having a mother-in-law in his three marriages. He’d make this right for her—for Irina’s memory and for Iris’s future.

After some consideration, and probably because she refused to ask for his help standing, Tatiana relaxed back onto the sofa. “Very well, I’ll arrange for dinner here tonight. You will bring Iris and her fiancé.”

“Right, yes. Of course, I’ll have to check and see if he’s available. Thank you.” He backed himself out of her presence as if she were royalty, then made a tactful dash for the door. Opening it, he found Marko waiting outside.

“You will bring the gems with you when you return,” Marko said.

Cosmo smiled with all the self-assurance that had long since jumped ship. As he walked toward the elevators, he tried to calculate the odds that he’d ever get the gems back in his hands, much less return them. What had been even money was looking more and more like a long shot.

***

“What was his story?” Marko asked Tatiana when he entered the suite’s living room.

She struggled to her feet before he could reach her. Waving him off, she leaned on the cane and walked slowly to stand tiny but erect and stare out the large window at the view.

Marko knew the delay allowed her to catch her breath, so he didn’t press her.

“He claims he stole the alexandrite to bring us here to meet Iris. A lie of course, and not a very good one.”

“He is slipping.”

“I think he is frightened.”

“Then why does he not return the gems?’

“He fears something or someone more than he fears me.”

Marko considered the sadness in her words. His aging aunt still grappled with the loss of her power to intimidate men with a single look. They were all getting older. “What may I do?”

She turned and walked unassisted to the sofa where she eased down. Though she fought to hide it, she still tired easily, and the long flight had worn her strength to a thin veneer. Still, her faded yet sharp eyes met his. “I think we will get more honest answers from Iris. You and Viktor fetch her from her shop and bring her to me.”

“I thought Cosmo was bringing her here for dinner tonight.”

She shook her head. “I predict he will make an excuse. Besides, I think it’s better if we talk to Iris alone.”

Chapter Thirteen

Mickey strode across the pedestrian bridge that connected Bally’s with the Bellagio. Hunter had taken the collar to have the gemstones authenticated at the UNLV geology lab. But Mickey didn’t care about the gems anymore. His main concern was to stop Turner and the Boss before either of them could harm Iris.

He tried to blame the black coffee for the unsettled feeling that gripped his gut, but quickly faced the truth—he wouldn’t be content until he learned what Iris was really up to. She’d kept an important secret from him, and now she’d broken off her engagement. Was it just the stress of this situation with her father’s disappearance? Had their lovemaking made her see things differently? He wanted to believe it, but he couldn’t overlook the possibility that she’d broken up with David because she’d planned to disappear with those stones and meet up with her dad.

If that were the case, she wouldn’t be any happier to learn that Mickey was a cop.

Boldly, he marched along the corridor of shops, into her store, past all the twinkling displays, straight for her workroom in the back. She sat at her table and peered through a large magnifier, so engrossed in her work, she didn’t hear him. She wore her customary tailored jacket and skirt, this time in a golden shade. But Mickey couldn’t help noticing she wore her hair down, the loose curls tickling her shoulders. Was it an omen?

The sight of her jolted him and conjured other images of her in his mind. That cool reserve of hers had melted to a puddle in the intense heat between them. The sound of her laughter still rang in his ears. Recalling it, his lips flirted with a smile.

It was the happiest sound he’d heard in six months. A sound that touched his soul, gave him hope life wouldn’t always be the bleak landscape he’d sentenced himself to since Brian’s death.

Mickey’s smile slid into an easy grin, recalling how she’d looked naked, russet curls mussed in wild disarray, eyes gleaming with need, bow-shaped lips urging him, “Now, now.”

“Iris.” He spoke her name softly.

She swiveled her stool around, those brandy-colored eyes wide as she searched his face. Hope and fear warred across her features for brief moments before she hopped off her stool to approach him.

Then she struck like a tornado, both hands slapping at his chest and face. He nearly had her under control when her pointy-toed shoe connected with his shin.

“Dammit, cut it out.” He retreated three steps, wary of her next move.

She held her ground like a vengeful goddess as she controlled her breathing. “Get the hell out of here.” As quickly as her anger had erupted, it evaporated.

Mickey watched her in silence, the grim reality of what he’d done to this woman settling upon his shoulders. Gone was the magic of last night and, from the look of her set jaw, there was no hope of rekindling it.

“I had to make sure you were all right.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to sound defensive.

“Cut the crap, Mickey. You haven’t cared about anything except those stones from the word go. You’ve got your copies, and now you’ve got the real thing. What more could you possibly want from me?” She turned away from him. “I’ve got nothing left.”

“Nothing but yourself and, crazy as it sounds, I want you more than those gems.”

“Oh, come on,” she said with a snort. “Get out of here, or I’m calling the police.”

“Go ahead. Call Hunter. He’s my partner in this operation.” He watched as she straightened things on her desk into neat lines. “I’m an undercover cop, Iris.”

Her breath caught for a second, then she burst out with a bitter laugh. “Of all the lies you’ve told, do you think I’m going to buy that one?”

“It’s the truth. I transferred here from Boston temporarily because they needed an unknown for this job. I’ve been living as Mickey the thief for months, but Hunter’s my contact. He’s taken the gems to have them authenticated.”

Doubt clouded her eyes, but he could tell she didn’t yet believe him.

“Who do you think got me the information on you and your sisters? How do you think I walked out of your apartment past Foote this morning?” Mickey took a tentative step toward her. “Hunter told me you broke up with David.”

She vented an animal growl of frustration as she slipped away from him. “That sadistic son of a bitch let me spill my guts and never told me you were a cop.” She shook her head, sending her hair into disarray.

The wayward curls reminded Mickey of how she’d looked, sleepy-eyed and sated, her head reclining on his shoulder after they’d made love mere hours ago. He swallowed hard at the memory and, worse, how he wanted to repeat it. “Why did you break up with him?”

“What do you care? It has nothing to do with you.”

His hand snaked out to grip her arm. “The hell it doesn’t. The only reason I agreed to no promises was because you were already engaged.”

“Ha! You expect me to believe anything you say now?” She jerked free and smacked his upper arm with enough force to make him wince. “You son of a bitch! Lying, cheating—”

He grabbed her to him and held her close. “I never cheated.”

“What do you call taking the collar?”

“I call that stealing. Not cheating.”

She stared at him, her mouth open in a seductive moue.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered.

Still staring, she whispered back, “What are you going to do about it?”

“This.” He lowered his head and captured her lips.

Mickey’s heart swelled as she melted into him. He twined his arms around her and pulled her closer. His blood stirred as soon as her hips made contact with his. Cupping her bottom, he fed from her lips with an insatiable hunger. He wanted her again with an intensity that still shocked him. Last night, he’d been surprised by how much he wanted a woman, but now he knew it wasn’t just a woman—it was this woman.

She tore her mouth from his and pushed him away. Retreating a few steps, she touched her lips as if ashamed of what they’d done. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a cop or a thief, this isn’t right.” She spoke with dead calm. “You said a guy who loved me would stick around and put up a fight for me.”

Mickey released a heavy breath. Those weren’t the words of a woman who’d planned to disappear. But his relief was short-lived. He’d screwed up royally, though his intentions at the time had been the best. “Honest to God, Iris, I didn’t know that’s what you wanted. You were the one who said no commitments. How was I supposed to know you didn’t mean it?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I meant it.”

Her rejection stung him. “Oh yeah? Then why did you break up with David?”

“For God’s sake, I lied to the man—cheated on him—how was I supposed to marry him? What kind of woman do you think I am?”

Mickey couldn’t help himself—he grinned.

But instead of drawing a responsive smile from her, Iris’s face crumpled. She pursed her lips and sniffed heavily. “Don’t answer that. It doesn’t matter anyway. I wasn’t myself last night.”

“I liked who you were.”

“Yeah, I bet you did. That’s why you bolted this morning.”

“And I like who you are, Iris Fortune. That’s why I’m back.”

She shook her head. “It’s no use, Mickey. I’m not the kind of woman who holds a man’s interest, I know that.” With a harsh laugh, she added, “You’re back because it’s your job.”

“That’s not true.” He hesitated to reach for her, fearing another rebuff. Instead, he massaged the knot tensing the back of his neck, searching for the expected headache, but it remained absent. “I’m back because of you, because I wanted to tell you the truth.”

“Maybe you should have thought of that last night. Somewhere around that pretty ‘no secrets from each other in bed’ speech.”

“Seems to me you were keeping ten secrets of your own, tiger.”

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. Before she could reply, a knock at the door interrupted them. “Yes?” Iris called out.

Ginny cracked the door open. “Sorry, Iris, but there are a couple of gentlemen here, and I think they’re speaking Russian. I can’t seem to help them, and I thought—”

“I’ll be right there.” Iris turned to him after Ginny left. “I want that collar back.”

Mickey settled onto her stool. “Go talk to your clients. We can continue this when you’re free.”

“You don’t need to keep an eye on me.”

He raised a brow at her. “You’re still in danger. And I’m still your best protection.”

She glared at him. “Fine. Sit here and talk to Edgar. I may be awhile.”

“I’ll wait,” he said calmly.

She yanked the door open and walked out to the sales floor without another word. From the angry shake of her head as she exited, he was going to have to save her life again to get her to give him another chance.

***

Marko pretended to study the jewelry case as the young woman knocked on the back door. He and Viktor had come into the shop together, their suits implying they were serious customers and not tourists. It had been Marko’s notion not to speak English to the shop girl. He hadn’t bothered to say anything to Viktor—his brother wasn’t much of a talker. He was glad, though, they’d decided not to bring Sergei. If the boy were here, he wouldn’t have resisted chatting the girl up.

The shop girl hurried over to help a young Asian couple. Marko kept his eyes trained on the door to the back, eager to see his cousin’s daughter emerge.

He wasn’t disappointed. Iris Fortune was petite and fine-boned like her mother had been, though her hair was a more fiery russet than he remembered Irina’s being. She wore a tailored suit jacket in a golden shade, with a matching skirt cut above the knee that revealed shapely bare legs in heeled sandals. Marko pursed his lips. In his day, women had always worn stockings. These younger generations were surrendering more and more traditions.

Beyond the first glimpse, he quickly surmised she was irritated with something. She threw a look toward the back office with an angry toss of her head. He tried to make out what was in that room off the sales floor, but the interior was too dark to share its secrets.

Approaching, Iris granted him a businesslike smile, impersonal but welcoming, as befitted a potential client. Clearly, she had no idea who he was. That didn’t surprise him. It would be just like Cosmo not to tell Irina’s daughter about her extended family being in town.

“Good morning,” she said in Russian. “Are you looking for something special today?”

Marko shared a look with his brother. “We’re looking for the daughter of Irina Nikolaevsky. Are you her?”

Her mouth opened in surprise before she gathered her composure. “Yes. I’m Iris Fortune, and Irina was my mother.”

“This is my brother, Viktor Gorseyev. I am Marko.”

“Gorseyev?” The name prompted her to appraise him more fully.

“Your mother was our cousin. We are related.”

“Just what I needed this week, more family,” she muttered in English.

Marko kept his face immobile, though he thought it an odd thing for her to say. He continued to speak in Russian. “We brought our elderly aunt with us. She wants to meet you.”

Beside him, Viktor cleared his throat and bobbed his head toward that back door. A man had emerged, dark-haired, muscled, with a determined look suggesting no one should mess with him. He wore dark jeans, a black T-shirt and a rather black scowl as he approached.

Marko approved. It didn’t surprise him in the least when the man sidled up next to Iris, though the way she stiffened in response intrigued him.

“What’s up?” the man asked her in English.

“They say they’re cousins of mine from Russia,” she answered quietly before turning back to Marko. “Please, bring your aunt by. I would love to meet her.”

“She is frail, old. We have a suite here at the hotel. If you would come up for an hour—”

Iris shook her head. “I couldn’t leave the shop.”

He touched her hand on the counter. “These could be her final days.” God help him, if Tatiana ever found out he’d suggested that, even as a ruse, she’d give him hell.

The man pulled Marko’s hand away from Iris’s fingers. “The lady said nyet, pal.”

Viktor raised an amused brow, and Marko restrained himself from kicking his brother. Goaded, he dropped all pretense and the Russian language. “And who gave you permission to speak for the lady?”

Both Iris and her male friend became more alert. “You speak English?” Iris asked.

“Call security,” the man said.

“That would be a mistake.” Marko straightened his tie. “We mean you no harm. I swear I’m here because Irina was my cousin. And now Aunt Tatiana is upstairs, and she wants to meet you.”

“Tatiana?” Iris said in a small voice. Her pale brown eyes widened in what appeared to be awe. Apparently, she’d heard tales of Tatiana.

“Iris, you don’t know this guy. This could all be a ploy. Call security and have their passports verified.”

“You may do so,” Marko said. “But I think you will regret calling extra attention to us or why we are here. We followed your father after he visited us in St. Petersburg.”

“Cosmo visited you?” the man asked. He didn’t seem surprised that Cosmo had flown to Russia.

Viktor chose that moment to intervene. “It is best that we speak some place more private. Cosmo Fortune has taken something of great value from our aunt. We’ve come to reclaim it.”

Iris exchanged a look with her protector who in turn looked across the counter at Marko and his brother.

“I’m coming with her.”

***

Iris hated to admit she was grateful to have Mickey accompany her up the elevator as she faced another unknown. A cop. God, what had she done? She stole a quick glance at him. Weren’t there rules or something that prevented him from sleeping with witnesses or suspects or whatever she was? Her face warmed with the memory of how she’d thrown herself at him. Well, the first time. The second time, he’d definitely been the seducer.

God help her, it didn’t matter whether he was a thief or a cop. Either way, she liked him. She liked herself with him. Which was poetic justice, because with their track record, they didn’t have any future. With determination, she pushed Mickey Kincaid out of her thoughts.

Instead she contemplated the two mostly silent men who swore they were her relatives. Both in their late fifties with broad chests, Marko had a ruddy complexion while Viktor was pale as snow. First sisters, now cousins. But she couldn’t blame Cosmo for this lack of contact with her Russian relatives. Her mom must have made that choice—or at least agreed to it.

For the first time, it occurred to her that though her mother had always been present, she’d held herself at a cool distance. Cosmo, for all his disappearing acts, had praised her schoolwork and encouraged her creative endeavors. He would engage completely in her adolescent life for the few days he stuck around, then he’d be off on another adventure, leaving no clue as to where he’d gone.

No wonder she had trouble adjusting to the notion of all these new relatives appearing so suddenly in her life. How long were any of them going to stick around?

She followed the Gorseyev brothers into the Bellagio’s grandest suite. The expansive living room with its blue carpet and cherry furniture ended in large windows that framed the glorious view of the Strip.

Seated on a floral chintz sofa, Tatiana Gorseyev held court in her pink bouclé suit and high-collared white blouse. Iris doubted the woman was even five feet tall, and she was thin enough that an eagle could probably carry her off and feed her to its young.

“Come here, child, let me look at you. I won’t bite.”

Stepping forward, Iris was forcibly reminded of Red Riding Hood’s grandmother, a woman who looked passive and frail as she beckoned one forward, but was really a wolf in disguise. Upon closer inspection, Tatiana exuded a powerful presence undisguised by age, wrinkles or the heavy scent of roses.

Iris leaned down so her aunt could kiss one cheek and then the other.

Tatiana’s cool fingers lingered on her face. “So like your mother, I would have recognized you anywhere. Forgive me for not coming to see you sooner.”

“That’s all right. I didn’t even know—” She’d been about to say “you were alive,” but in truth, she’d thought her mother’s aunt simply didn’t care about her American-born great-niece.

Tatiana let the unfinished sentence hang as she trained a faded but hawkish eye on Mickey. “And who are you?”

“Michael Kincaid.”

She gave him a single approving nod before lifting a brow at Iris. “Your father said you were engaged.”

“Oh, I, er, that is—”

“No need to blush, my dear. You’ve chosen well for yourself. Young and virile.” She looked to Mickey again. “Cosmo said you were a lawyer or a politician or something.”

“I work in law, yes.” Mickey glanced down at his boots.

Iris stared. Had Mickey just avoided lying? He, who crafted stories with the agility of the devil’s own silver tongue, had he just told her great-aunt something that sounded like the truth? Not the whole truth and nothing but the truth, but that was for the best. Hi, Aunt Tatiana, so nice to meet you after all these years, and no, this isn’t my fiancé, this is the man I slept with last night before I broke up with my stable, sensible, reliable, dull fiancé.

No, that wasn’t going to play well with her new relatives. They’d think she was no better than her alley cat father. While that might be true, it was also demeaning.

So, while Mickey hadn’t lied, he’d left a general impression that he was her fiancé, but she’d let that slide. For now.

“Marko,” Tatiana barked. “Order a tea tray with cakes.”

“Don’t you think you should have lunch first? Maybe a sandwich?”

“I don’t want a sandwich!” She pounded her cane on the floor. “I want tea and cakes.”

Marko cast an apologetic glance at Iris. “The time change and jet lag has made her more irritable than normal.”

“I am never irritable. I’m hungry, and I want tea and cakes.”

Viktor quietly lifted a telephone handset to make the call.

“Aunt Tatiana, maybe you should lie down and rest until the tea arrives,” Marko suggested.

“Don’t be an ass. I’m not some imbecile who must sleep every five minutes. Iris needs to understand the legacy. Fetch the necklace.”

This time, Marko looked over at Mickey. “I’m not sure that’s wise.”

Tatiana’s voice lowered in volume, but her intensity commanded the room. “Do not question me.”

“Yes, aunt.” He fled into one of the adjoining bedrooms.

Tatiana patted the cushion beside her. “Sit with me, Iris. Please, both of you, sit.”

Mickey perched on a stool at the wet bar, a position that gave him a vantage point to watch the suite’s door as well as the window and both bedrooms. While he appeared relaxed, Iris knew he was poised for action.

She sat next to Tatiana. “Your nephews claim Cosmo took something from you. What was it?”

The old lady nodded but held off speaking while Marko hurried back with something in his hands. She pointed to the small table before them, and he laid out an ornate necklace, taking time to spread the thin metal chains into their intricate pattern.

Iris leaned forward to study it. The luster of twenty-four-carat gold spilled out in a filigreed web of late Victorian design.

“May I?” she asked her aunt. When she received a nod, Iris lifted the necklace with great care to study the spots dotted with platinum. Indeed, they were settings, but the necklace was void of gemstones.

“Do you know what this is?” Tatiana asked.

Iris counted the fittings for ten stones, her heart pounding. “Is this the Romanov necklace?”

The old woman smiled. “Your mother told you the tale.”

“Oh, yes. Such a lovely and sad story.”

“When Czar Nicholas decided to have his crown dismantled, and the rare alexandrite stones fashioned into a gift for his wife, he commissioned the premier jeweler in all of Russia to design the necklace. That was my great-grandfather, Vladimir Gorseyev.”

“Is this a copy?”

“No, that is the original.”

From his perch, Mickey cleared his throat. “But I thought the necklace was dismantled during the revolution, and the stones dispersed to the crown heads of Europe.”

“They were.” Tatiana nodded with approval to Iris. “You told him.”

Iris made eye contact with Mickey and felt a blush warm her cheeks. “Yeah, well it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Tatiana wrapped both hands around the top of the cane to help her sit up straight. “The Empress Alexandra sent the stones to her distant relatives for safekeeping, but the necklace itself she returned to the Gorseyev family like a skeleton without flesh. We hid it through the revolution and years of communism, though we still hope one day it will take its place in a museum, a tribute to the devoted wife and mother who was murdered with her children in the midst of such political upheaval.”

Iris had always thought of the Romanov gems as a myth, the story a fairy-tale adventure, but her great-aunt’s words painted a tragic tale of a woman’s attempt to save some part of her family’s history even when she couldn’t save herself or her children. The gems were not merely a historical curiosity, a valuable artifact, but a deep cultural legacy.

And Cosmo had stolen them. But why? It still made no sense to her. Another question troubled her. “So, Cosmo removed the gems from here, but how did you get them?”

“We had them made.”

“Made?” Mickey rose to join them.

Iris spread the necklace out across the table so he could see it. For his benefit, she traced the spots where the gems would have fitted.

“How do you make alexandrite?” he asked.

Tatiana sighed. “I do not understand it all, but it can be done in a laboratory.”

Iris held up a hand. “In simple terms, you create a chamber and put in the chemical compounds necessary to make a stone or mineral, then create conditions that speed up the process. You can grow alexandrite in a lab in as little as two weeks.”

She looked at her aunt. “But for the size of these gems, growing them would take a few months.”

“Indeed. And it cost us much money over the years. For decades my grandfather and then my father continued to commission the growing of more stones, then they personally cut the gems to fit these settings.”

Reality settled upon Iris’s shoulders like a cold, hard burden. The stones she’d thought were the Romanov alexandrite must be these grown copies. “I’m sorry Cosmo took them from you. I haven’t seen him since Thursday.” She tried to make it sound like no big deal—which it wouldn’t be under normal circumstances. “I’m sure he still has the stones.”

“He said he gave them to you,” Tatiana said.

“When did he say that?” Mickey interrupted.

Though taken aback by his intense question, she grudgingly answered him. “An hour ago, maybe a bit more.”

“He was here?” Iris tried to remain calm. She’d never wanted to see her father so desperately.

Tatiana patted her hand. “Yes. So, he’s fooled all of us then. You truly don’t have them?”

Iris’s suddenly dry tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She threw Mickey a look.

Picking up on her silence, he came to her rescue. “I think it’s safe to say Cosmo didn’t give them to her. Did he, Iris?”

She released her breath. “No, he didn’t give me the stones.” They were stretching the truth, but since she had no way of knowing for certain whether the stones on Edgar’s collar were what Tatiana sought, she couldn’t very well promise to return them. More than ever she needed to find Cosmo.

“But if he didn’t take the stones to give them to Iris, then why did he take them?” Marko asked.

Iris sighed, unable to defend his crazy actions. “I don’t think I’ve ever understood him.”

Tatiana nodded sagely. “Of this I know—Cosmo never does anything by chance.”

Chapter Fourteen

“So that’s that,” Mickey said. “Your father’s had us all running around with our heads up our asses.”

“You don’t need to say it like you think I was in on it.” Any charity she’d been feeling toward him evaporated like dew under the desert sun.

They waited in the elevator lobby, a cul-de-sac of six metal doors. Instead of making eye contact with Mickey, Iris watched his reflection in the mirror on the end wall. He was studying her profile.

“No, you didn’t have a clue, did you? You never even knew you had relatives in Russia?”

Iris turned on him. “Second cousins. How many of your second cousins do you keep track of in the United States?” She bit her lower lip—yelling at Mickey wasn’t going to change the fact that she hadn’t even known she had sisters until this weekend. “What do we do now?”

“Only one thing we can do. Wait to hear what the lab discovered about the gems.”

They looked at each other.

“They’re going to be the Gorseyev alexandrite,” Iris said flatly. “I never thought the color was pure enough, but I so wanted them to be the Romanov stones.”

“So, you don’t think Cosmo ever got the Romanov gems?”

“That’s why he never wanted to hand them over. He knew someone would discover they were synthetic.”

An elevator opened with a subtle ding, and they stepped inside.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” Mickey said. “I mean, what was the point? From what I gather, the Boss wired ten million dollars to someone for those gems. Your aunt didn’t get the money, and Cosmo swore he never had the money in his hands. Why would he take something she valued so highly, if he wasn’t going to give them to the Boss?”

“You’d have to ask Cosmo that,” Iris said.

“If I could just lay hands on him.”

“I think he might be headed back to my store late tonight.” She admitted it grudgingly.

“Why?”

“He broke in last night, remember? This morning, I found this in the drawer where I originally found the alexandrite.” She withdrew the small paper from her jacket pocket and offered it to him.

Mickey took the note and stared at the single question mark. “What’s he asking?”

“I think he’s asking what I did with the alexandrite. When I found it yesterday morning, I had to make a quick decision.”

“So you found it and acted. Why didn’t you tell me then?”

“You were the one who told me not to trust you.”

The elevator opened again, this time at lobby level. They turned the corner and were assaulted by casino noise and the hurried bustle of bodies. Mickey corralled her shoulders with one arm and protected her from the worst of the bumps as they moved among people trying to go in a dozen directions at once.

When they arrived at the store, Iris wasn’t surprised to find Officer Foote standing outside the front door. He greeted her with a cursory salute while he managed to treat Mickey as if undercover meant invisible.

The store itself was empty save for Ginny polishing glass countertops and a couple near the back. Iris recognized Hunter’s loosened tie and casual sport coat almost as quickly as she picked up the fragrance of mint from his cup of tea.

But what the hell was Allie doing with him?

Ginny hooked a thumb in the couple’s direction. “Who’s the guy with your sister?”

Iris hated to admit Hunter was a cop. Wasn’t it bad enough that she had a uniform shadowing her without admitting she was surrounded by the law? When had she lost all control of her life?

Mickey smiled easily at Ginny, all his usual charm returning. “That’s another of Iris’s cousins.”

“Another—?”

“Don’t ask,” Iris said to her. She glanced at Mickey. “Does he have it?”

The two men had made eye contact, and she saw Hunter’s nod. She grabbed Mickey’s sleeve, eager to find out about the gems. “Come on. We can talk in the back.”

“Iris, what’s going on?” Ginny trailed behind them.

She paused to answer her assistant while Mickey ushered the others into the back. “I can’t tell you. Just…keep an eye on things out here, would you?”

“What if David stops by?”

“He won’t.” While she knew Ginny would celebrate the end of her engagement, Iris wasn’t ready to share it. Too many other things were at stake.

She closed the door behind her and nailed Hunter with a look. “What’s she doing here?”

“Iris—” Allie tried to interrupt, but Iris rolled over her verbally.

“No, I mean if this is supposed to be some sort of professional investigation—”

Hunter set his tea down on her worktable. “I ran into Allie at the UNLV campus, and she asked for a ride over here.”

This made Iris consider Allie. She’d suspected her younger sister was stalking the detective. “Ran into?”

Allie stuffed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie and stared back. “I had a chemistry lab this morning.”

“So Hunter’s become your own personal cab?”

Anger flashed in Allie’s eyes. “Come off it, Iris, he’s my dad, too. He said you were the keeper of the gems. Then I find Justin at the geology lab—looking a little chagrined to be discovered there. It doesn’t take much brains to add two and two together and come up with your stolen gems.” Her features softened as she expelled a breath. “I want to do what I can to help find Daddy. He’s in trouble, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” Mickey answered. “But we’re all going to help him.”

Allie tilted her head to study him, her eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not just a thief, are you?”

“I’m an undercover cop.”

“He’s my partner,” Hunter verified.

“Oh sure, when she asks, just come right out and tell her.” Iris found herself, as usual, moved to the edge of the group, and she resented it.

“Don’t be angry,” Allie said. “I think you’re so lucky. You’ve been neck-deep in this adventure. Daddy trusted you to help him.”

The wistfulness of her sister’s tone made Iris pause. She’d been so angry with Cosmo, she hadn’t looked at it this way before. He had trusted her. He’d left the gems in her safekeeping. What was so aggravating was not knowing why, and she was taking that aggravation out on her innocent sister.

“I’m sorry, Allie. It’s been a rough morning.”

“Cosmo’s in-laws from Russia are in town,” Mickey told the others. “Iris just discovered she’s got cousins.”

Allie’s eyes lit with joy. “Oh, Iris, how wonderful!”

“Yeah, great.” Iris sat on her stool, suddenly tired.

“Are they tied in with this?” Hunter asked Mickey.

“I think so. What did you find out about the gems?”

Hunter withdrew the collar from his pocket. “The lab confirmed that these are alexandrite, but their value is much lower than we anticipated.”

“Because they’re synthetic,” Iris said. Even though she’d expected this, disenchantment weighed heavily upon her.

“How did you know?” Hunter handed her the collar.

Mickey explained all they’d learned from the Gorseyevs about their missing gems. Allie listened with wide-eyed intensity while Hunter jotted notes in his little pad. Seated on her stool, Iris studied the collar beneath the desk’s bright light. Though these weren’t the Romanov alexandrite, the gems had been faceted by her great-grandfather and his father, each brilliant angle cut to perfection. Her mother had said their Gorseyev ancestors had been great jewelers, but Iris could now appreciate their superior craftsmanship firsthand.

She held not history but her heritage, and it sparkled and dazzled its way into her heart.

Hunter repocketed his pad. “Then these gems belong to the Gorseyev family from St. Petersburg, that’s what you’re telling me?”

Mickey nodded. “At least that’s one question answered. What we still don’t know is who received the ten million for the Romanov gems, or if Cosmo ever received them.”

“Or who hired Cosmo to get the gems in the first place,” Hunter added.

“If someone hired him, then Daddy must have the real gems.” Allie looked from one to the other man. “That or he must know where they are. It’s not like he’d go all the way to Russia to bring back fakes.”

Iris couldn’t muster a laugh at such devotion, though her lips drew back in a rueful smile. “Cosmo is a second-rate con artist who might do anything that comes to mind, including cheat his own mother, if he thought he could pull it off.”

Instead of arguing, Allie considered her words. “Maybe, but he’d have good reason.”

“Guess we’ll have to find out what that is.” Mickey shared a look with Iris.

She knew he was hoping to track Cosmo down here at the shop tonight. “Is there any reason I can’t give these gems back to my great-aunt?”

Hunter shook his head. “We’d be hard-pressed to call them stolen goods, and frankly they’re tainted as evidence.”

Iris wasn’t sure what that all meant but assumed he didn’t want them anymore.

“You might hang on to them, at least until we find your father.” Mickey came up behind her and laid a hand on her wrist.

The gems moved beneath the light, casting a brilliant prism on the wall. Iris hated to admit it, but her stomach fluttered with the same rainbows at his touch.

Mickey’s voice vibrated softly at her ear. “Cosmo’s still in deep trouble, and these might be useful.”

Her mouth dry, she nodded. “I can wait until you find him.” She slid off the stool, though that brought more of her body in contact with his hard frame. “I’ll put this back on Edgar. Where is he?” She looked around the floor.

“He’s not here,” Allie said. “I thought he was at your apartment.”

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Iris asked sharply.

Allie shrugged. “If he were in the shop somewhere, I’d feel his presence. Did you really bring him here this morning?”

“Of course I did.”

“Why?” Allie sounded almost as exasperated as Iris felt.

“Because you told me he didn’t like to be left alone.”

Her sister chuckled, and both men looked like Iris had lost her mind. Maybe she had.

“That was yesterday,” Allie said. “Edgar’s a rabbit. Who knows what he’s thinking today.”

If the rabbit’s thoughts were anything like Iris’s, he’d be out buying her sister a straitjacket. “Apparently, he’s thinking he’ll take a walk.” She jerked open the door and stalked out to the sales floor, her head bent to peer beneath the glass cases.

The men followed, fanning out across the store to conduct a thorough search, while her sister hung back, her brow furrowed in concentration. What, was she trying to read the rabbit’s mind again?

Iris discovered Ginny lost in discussion with a hot blond guy. “Pardon me, Ginny, but have you seen Edgar?”

“Who? Oh, no. I thought he was in the back with you.”

“He seems to have gotten out.” Iris glanced at the guy and was startled by the blue eyes, so pale and intense, and yet oddly familiar.

“Iris, this is Sergei…”

“Gorseyev,” he finished with a smile at the assistant.

Ginny blushed. “He says he’s your cousin,” she whispered with a sidelong look. “Is he?”

“I believe it’s second cousin,” Sergei corrected in his accented English as he shook Iris’s hand.

“I’ll vouch for this one,” Iris said.

His eyes were a younger version of Tatiana’s, and he’d inherited Viktor’s height and build. He appeared to be a few years younger than her own twenty-eight, and he’d clearly made an impression on Ginny.

Mickey appeared at her elbow. “Find anything?” He placed a proprietary hand on her back.

“This is Iris’s Russian cousin, Sergei,” Ginny gushed.

Iris raised a brow. Ginny never gushed. But she was definitely making eyes at Sergei.

“This is Iris’s other cousin, Mickey.”

Mickey offered his hand. “Michael Kincaid.”

“Funny, Aunt Tatiana told me you were Iris’s fiancé,” Sergei said as they shook.

Ginny’s mouth fell open as she turned to stare at Iris.

Iris wished she could melt into the floor. This was the problem with lying—she always got caught. She saw Mickey’s hand tighten its grip on her cousin’s fingers.

“Can you keep a secret, Sergei?” he whispered. “I’m neither.”

Sergei leaned in. “If that is so, what are you?”

“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” Mickey winked.

Ginny barely repressed a squeal of delight. “I knew something was going on!”

“Oh, stop it, all of you,” Iris said testily. Mickey had made it sound like this was just one big joke to him. He probably couldn’t wait to be done with this case. To be done with her.

Allie joined their little group with a brief wave to Ginny before turning to Iris. “He’s not here. I mean, we can look in every corner and under every piece of furniture, but I can tell you, Edgar’s gone.”

“Who is this Edgar?” Sergei asked.

“Our dad’s rabbit,” Allie answered.

This made no sense to the Russian. “Rabbit? As in, hip hop, hip hop?”

Ginny and Allie both giggled. Even Iris had to admit, with the accent and all, Sergei was pretty damn hot.

But she saw no humor in losing Edgar. It would have been easier if he were still wearing the collar. Then she could pretend she was worried about the missing gems. Instead, she had to admit she’d developed a bond with that overweight rabbit. If he’d left the store, he was out there in the casino somewhere, and that thought terrified her. Heavy money carts, tourists with rolling luggage, security guards with guns—Edgar could be injured or killed out there. Just her luck that they were on the verge of finding Cosmo, and she’d have to tell him she’d lost his favorite pet.

She looked at Mickey. Why she automatically turned to him for help after all he’d done, she didn’t know. She didn’t question it. Instinctively, she knew she could count on him. “We have to find him.”

But instead of promising everything would be fine, he returned her look with a doubtful frown. “We can’t tear the whole casino apart looking for one rabbit.”

“We don’t have to tear anything apart,” Allie said with confidence. “If you want to find a rabbit, you just have to think like a rabbit. Come on.”

***

Robert Donovan rarely set foot in the Bellagio, mostly because he hated to admit anyone in Vegas had bigger holdings than he did. Today he should have achieved a major victory by signing that real estate deal and buying that piece of Moscow property from the Bellagio’s owners. But thanks to Cosmo Fortune’s treachery, Jock’s ineptitude and Mickey Kincaid’s lies, the deal was on hold.

Goddammit, he wanted that alexandrite in his hands.

Marshalling his features into a businesslike smile, he turned and waved goodbye to the men who’d shared lunch with him. SOBs, all of them. He smiled and winked as they waved back. Yeah, they’d be stabbing knives in his back if they could. He straightened his cuffs and departed the restaurant.

Grudgingly, he admitted Jack Vados had suggested a good plan. Since delaying the contract would look weak, Vados had recommended they blame the postponement on health issues. Nothing too serious—a flu bug, perhaps. If Donovan were laid up for a few days, no one would blame him for the delay.

Donovan agreed with the idea on all accounts save one. Vados was the one currently laid up with the flu. Like hell Donovan wanted anyone thinking something trivial like a virus could stop him. And to prove he was feeling just fine, thank you, he’d offered to take the sellers out to lunch in lieu of today’s meeting—his treat. He even let them pick the restaurant.

They’d immediately chosen the most expensive lunch restaurant in their highest-priced property. The SOBs couldn’t wait to stick it to him and make him pay for food they could have gotten free for themselves. Drawing a cleansing breath, he tried to shake it off. They’d merely asserted their temporary dominance in this situation. Soon he’d catch up with Cosmo Fortune and get his gems. A day—two, tops. Then he’d sign the contracts, make his quiet but all-important donation to the Russian government, and these assholes would be crying in their soup while he sat in the penthouse of the largest casino in Moscow. The only casino. His casino.

A shame he couldn’t bury Cosmo in the foundation.

People milled about the lobby, many of them tourists staring at that damn glass flower ceiling. Yeah, he got it, it was artsy, beautiful—get over it, already. A camera flash blinded him for a moment and raised his blood pressure. He tried to focus on the main doors that led to the valet area, but too many people crowded his view. In no mood to wait for some bellhop to call for his limo, Donovan pulled out his cell phone, but the grating noise of hundreds of people chattering made him seek a quieter spot.

The Bellagio’s conservatory beckoned. Just off the lobby, the glass-roofed plaza sported themed gardens with fountains. It might be equally crowded, but the open-air space would allow sound to dissipate.

“Mommy, no-o-o-o,” a little boy wailed as his mother dragged him by the elbow past Donovan. “I want to go back and find the bunny!”

Donovan shuddered at the ear-piercing note the boy sobbed in a last-ditch attempt to get his wishes.

The mother must have been deaf to it, for all she did was roll her eyes. “Those people are crazy. There’s no bunny in those gardens.” With that, she hauled him toward the door.

Listening to another wail, Donovan retreated toward the conservatory. It had to be quieter there.

The garden was quiet, except for some people craning their necks and trying to point cameras. Donovan shouldered his way through the crowd, though it made his skin crawl to be surrounded so closely. With an effort, he broke through the front line of bystanders. Here, he lodged himself against the rail surrounding the largest of the three gardens and elbowed enough room to call his driver. When he finished, he realized the crowd had grown thicker. What the hell was the big attraction about some flowers planted beneath a glass dome?

Sparing a minute, he studied the gardens around him. Topiary animals of green ivy danced upon carpets exploding with brightly colored flowers—blood red, caution yellow and white so pure it made his eyes ache. Someone should have gotten fired for even suggesting they waste potential restaurant, lounge or casino space on this sappy terrarium.

“I see him!” On the far side of the gardens, a woman shrieked for all to hear. “He’s over here!”

The crowd surged forward, pushing Donovan before it like the tide tossing a surfer onto the beach. He saw nothing worthy of captivating such a crowd until he heard a jubilant shout of “I found him!”

Seeking the source, he spied a young blonde woman in the garden leaning around a topiary of a bear. She was lithe and lovely, and why she was creeping through the flowers like a deer eluded him. Her soft lips moved in words he couldn’t hear. Donovan scanned the garden until he found a man, tall, muscled, equally blond, but so pale he couldn’t possibly be a Vegas native. The two were converging on what he finally recognized as a large white rabbit nibbling leaves off a shrub.

Donovan smirked. How he wished he could see the looks on his lunch guests’ faces when they learned that some crazy tourists were trampling a few thousand dollars’ worth of potted plants. It was such a ludicrous sight, Donovan almost missed the danger to his left.

“Can you catch him?” called out a petite redhead in another part of the garden. Behind her, looking toward the blonde, Mickey Kincaid was wading through flowers.

Donovan’s eyes narrowed. Turner had told him of Kincaid’s escape last night. What the hell was he doing cavorting in the conservatory with…was that Fortune’s daughter?

Kincaid seemed to hear his thoughts and speared him with a stare. “You!” He pushed past Iris Fortune, nearly knocking her off balance.

“What the—?” She barely remained on her feet.

With a singleness of purpose Donovan could appreciate, Kincaid came after him. But Donovan had a good lead to start, and he pushed his way through the crowd to get to the exit. He didn’t pause when he cleared the conservatory but dashed through the lobby for the front doors.

A security guard near the concierge desk recognized him. “Mr. Donovan?”

He slowed. “There’s a man back there who threatened me. I’m afraid he’ll cause trouble.”

“No trouble, sir.” The guard scanned the crowded lobby. Already, he was talking into the radio headset wired to his ear.

Kincaid emerged a moment later, a bit wild-eyed, and pointed at Donovan. “Stop him.”

“Leave this to me, sir,” the guard said, stepping forward.

“With pleasure.” Without a backward glance, Donovan strolled out the front door and climbed into his waiting limousine, where he called Turner to tell him where he could find his next hit.

***

Mickey couldn’t believe his luck at seeing the Boss in the Bellagio’s conservatory. Dressed in a well-cut gray suit, lavender shirt and purple power tie, the guy looked like the consummate businessman. So much so, it took Mickey’s brain a few moments to identify who he was. “You!”

His quarry had already recognized him and retreated into the crowd like a fish swimming upstream. Mickey trampled flowers and nearly knocked Iris off her feet to give chase. “Hunter!” he shouted, hoping his partner would have enough sense to follow.

He lost the Boss in the crowd and wasted too much time when his feet slid to a stop on the polished tile of the Bellagio’s lobby, awash as it was with more people. His fingers itched to draw his gun, but he didn’t dare. He just wanted to capture one man, not start a shooting spree. Besides, if he brandished a gun in a hotel lobby with all these innocent bystanders, no cop or security guard would hesitate to drop him.

From behind him, he heard Hunter grunt as he shouldered past someone. “What did you see?”

“Not what, who. The Boss is here.” Mickey shook his head in frustration as they walked through the lobby slowly. “I think I lost him.”

“Are you sure you’re not seeing things?”

“No.” Mickey’s eyes trained on the back of a gray suit talking to a black suit near the far end of the hotel’s front desk. “Stop him!” He charged forward, his eyes intent on the Boss as he exited through the front door.

Before he reached the entrance, Mickey was tackled by two bruisers. About the time he was kissing the tile floor, he realized the black suits were Bellagio security. Shit, Hunter was probably laughing his ass off. Mickey’s unique—and low profile—perspective didn’t allow him to see whether Hunter continued the chase.

Didn’t take the guys on his back ten seconds to find his gun, and that earned him an extra cuff across the head. When they wrestled him to his feet, Mickey saw Hunter, badge in hand, speaking with another black suit who appeared to be in charge near the concierge desk. A crowd had formed a knot in the lobby. Great, he’d become more of a curiosity than Edgar running amok in the garden. Hopefully, Iris and Allie had caught the rabbit.

Hunter approached. With a nod to his two captors, he said, “I’ll take him from here, gentleman. Thank you.” He pulled out handcuffs, and Mickey resigned himself to playing his role until they left the building. He shut his mouth and tried to give the general impression of sulkiness and being pissed off. Neither was a stretch—it did piss him off that the Boss had gotten away.

Hunter conjured up a plastic bag and collected Mickey’s gun in it before he ushered Mickey out the giant revolving door to the busy valet area. “My car’s this way.” He pushed Mickey ahead of him.

“Easy,” Mickey muttered. A white stretch limo caught his eye and he stopped, making Hunter stumble into him.

“What?” his partner asked testily.

Mickey pointed with his head in the limo’s direction. “That’s him, pulling out into traffic. Get his license plate.”

“I don’t need his plates. I already know who he is.” They watched the limo drive away then Hunter nudged him toward an illegally parked Sentra. “Get in.”

“But—”

“Inside,” Hunter ordered.

Mickey folded his legs and let Hunter guide his head as he lowered himself into the backseat. He waited for Hunter to get in and turn the engine to life. “Are you going to tell me?”

Hunter turned to consider him, his jaw set in an uncompromising line. “That guy you chased down doesn’t have any priors, so that’s why you couldn’t find a picture of him in our system. That’s Robert Donovan.” He raised his brows and waited.

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. “Where do I know that name from?”

“Maybe the business section of the newspaper or the evening news. He owns half a dozen casinos in town. Are you sure that’s your Boss?”

“Positive.”

Hunter sighed.

“Bring him in for questioning.”

“Just like that?” Hunter shook his head. “Donovan has the kind of lawyers who’d have a field day destroying my career for even showing up on his doorstep. We’ve got nothing concrete to link him to these crimes. The DA won’t go near him until we do.”

“I know he’s behind all this.”

“Knowing’s not enough. You have to be able to prove it. Seriously, what’s a guy like this going to do with ten million in Russian gems? What could mythical alexandrite possibly do for him that he couldn’t do for himself with his own money?”

Mickey remained silent. He didn’t know the answer, but he suspected Cosmo Fortune did.

Chapter Fifteen

Iris climbed out of the sea of yellow flowers onto the tiled walkway only to be jostled by the crowd. How Mickey had plowed through them she had no clue, nor did she understand why he’d taken off like a madman.

To hell with him. All he cared about was his case. She didn’t need his help to catch Edgar.

Pushing through the crowd, she came to the other planted area. Apparently, Edgar had disappeared below the surface of the flora, because Allie was kneeling in the flowers, skimming the red and white blooms with her hand. It had taken her and her sixth sense less than a minute to conclude Edgar would head for these over-the-top gardens. Iris had to admit she was developing a healthy respect for her sister’s instincts.

A few feet to Allie’s right, Sergei bent over at the waist as he also sought the rabbit. Someone should probably warn him that half the women—and probably more than a few men—were salivating over the sight of his cute little ass in those taut chinos.

As Iris removed her heels, a tubby little man appeared at her side, his face flushed. His brown shorts and khaki shirt were grimy with dirt. If that hadn’t given him away as a Bellagio gardener, the pith helmet that shaded his ruddy face from the bright sun filtering through the glass roof did.

That and the trowel he pointed in Allie’s general direction. “Hey, young lady, you can’t be in there!” His voice shook with repressed energy.

Iris wrote him off as any kind of threat. Minding her skirt, she stepped over the low railing.

“You, you, you—stop!” The gardener jabbed the air with his index finger.

“Relax. We just need to catch our rabbit.”

“Rabbit! In the garden? No, no, no!” His free hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. “We’ll call animal control.”

“This will only take a minute.” She started to pull away, but his fingers dug deeper into her arm. Her patience snapped. “Look, buddy, I’ve had a lousy weekend, so you really don’t want to mess with me today. Now let go of my arm before I take that trowel and stick it up your—”

He dropped his grip. “Security!” He fought his way through the standing crowd. “Someone call security!”

Iris cursed under her breath. Just what she needed. Feeling her way with bare toes, she waded through the thick flowers. “Come on, Eddy, where are you?” she muttered. She’d like the rabbit in her hands before they were all arrested for trespassing or flower-tromping or whatever.

She stopped long enough to touch Sergei’s back. When he straightened, she said, “Bend with your knees.” She bounced a little on her toes to reinforce the idea.

He started to bounce with her. “Hip hop?”

Iris smiled at the sheer absurdity of the moment. “No, bend at the knees, not the waist.” She tried to mime both actions, but had to hold her skirt in place to bend forward even slightly. Hell, didn’t they teach guys anything?

Sergei’s pale eyes lit with understanding. He craned his neck to look over his shoulder at the crowd.

Iris imagined a collective sigh rippling through the young women. Sergei would be lucky if he weren’t mobbed like a rock star when they finished here. Already someone was approaching the low fence and, with a sigh of resignation, Iris recognized the return of the gardener.

She raised her brows at him as he climbed into the garden and picked his way toward her. “What, no security available?”

“They’ll be here in a minute.” He lowered his voice. “They’re dealing with some crazy guy in the lobby.”

Iris gave thanks that a crazy guy in the lobby trumped a loose bunny in the garden.

“Don’t move. I see him.” To their left, Allie spoke just loud enough for them to hear her over the crowd noise.

“Where?” Iris asked.

“He’s near Sergei’s left foot.”

Sergei immediately dunked his hands below the flowers. “Oww!” He pulled his hands back and examined his right thumb.

Startled, the gardener looked around as if sharks and not a rabbit might be below the surface of the flowers. “What happened?”

In less than five hops, Edgar took refuge beneath the bear topiary behind Allie.

“You scared him,” Allie said, hands on her hips.

Sergei shook his hand in the air. “He bit me. Bad rabbit.”

“He bit you?” The gardener whipped on a pair of leather gloves. “Is he dangerous? Has he had his shots?”

“Let me see.” Iris grabbed Sergei’s hand. “It’s barely a scratch.”

Edgar popped up from a bed of bright red flowers, his ears swiveling around like a periscope before he submerged again.

“Stay there,” Allie said. “I’ll get Edgar.” She slowly turned and eased her way closer to the topiary.

The gardener waded through the flowers after her. “No, let me. I’ve got gloves.”

Iris decided she’d let Allie charm the guy if she could. She glanced back at the walkway, gauging how much time they had before armed guards dragged them out of here. With a gasp, she recognized Jock and Pebbles in the second row of the crowd.

Jock saluted her and granted her a snide wink that flashed his gold tooth.

Wildly, Iris searched the crowd for either Mickey or Hunter, cursing that she’d left Officer Foote back at the store with Ginny. Near panic, she grabbed Sergei’s arm in a death grip.

“What?” He turned and caught her eye.

“There are two men out there who are after me.” She swallowed. “They’ve kidnapped me once. They want to kill me.” Even to her own ears, she sounded like a lunatic.

Sergei scanned the crowd as if helping women with death threats was an everyday occurrence. “You want me to take care of them?”

Oddly, that wasn’t her concern. With Sergei watching them, her assailants bided their time in the crowd. “No. Whatever happens to me, keep Allie safe.” Thank heavens she’d left the collar back at the store.

“She said she’s your sister.” He raised his brows in an unasked question.

Damn. Iris doubted her mother’s relatives knew a thing about Cosmo’s multiple marriages. “Don’t say anything to your family, will you?”

“It is a secret?”

Iris’s eyes closed in frustration then fluttered open again. “I think Cosmo should explain it to Aunt Tatiana. Agreed?”

He winked at her. “Agreed.”

Great, he probably liked playing at international espionage.

“You’re not helping.” From behind them, Allie’s limp reprimand gained their attention.

The gardener was using his arm as a scythe to search for Edgar. The poor rabbit was probably terrified at this point. Allie, her patience nearing an end, had that militant look on her face like she might kick the guy’s ass.

“I’ve got him!” The gardener pounced headlong into a batch of white flowers.

Allie craned her neck to see, but the gardener came up empty-handed. She pointed to his right. “He’s gone back toward the topiary again.”

The gardener chugged forward on all fours, only his pith helmet and brown hips visible as he burrowed into taller foliage. He gave a shout of what sounded like success and came up with Edgar.

The rabbit took exception to the large leather gloves and squirmed to free himself. As the guy tried to get a better hold, Edgar kicked his big back legs until he shot off the gardener’s chest like a cannonball. With a thunk, the rabbit bounced off the bear topiary and disappeared back into the greenery below.

The giant ivy bear teetered. Iris held her breath, sure the structure would right itself. But then the gardener lunged after Edgar, so intent on the rabbit that he knocked into the topiary with his pith helmet. The bear swayed back, then forth, then tipped in slow motion.

The gardener shrieked as the bear pitched toward him. He scampered clear of it, but the bear toppled onto its side, uprooting flowers and rerouting the flow of the trickling waterfall. Water started to spray straight into the air.

Catcalls and jeers burst from the onlookers. Anyone with a camera aimed it at the destruction while the gardener continued to stare at the bear he’d killed. Even Sergei fiddled with his cell phone—probably wanting to capture the moment. Kidnappers or no, Iris decided now was a good time to get out of here.

Allie sidled up to them with Edgar safely in her arms. Although wet, the rabbit didn’t look any worse for his adventure. “Got him, poor thing. Uh oh.” She motioned with her head for Iris to look over her shoulder.

Fearing that Jock or—worse—Pebbles was coming for them, Iris turned to find four black-suited security guards. As luck would have it, she didn’t recognize any of them. At least the two thugs stalking her had melted back a few rows deeper into the sea of onlookers.

“Fun’s over. Come out of there now.” One guard motioned them forward.

Iris ushered the other two with her. “Even if they threaten to arrest us, don’t argue. Just go with them.”

Allie craned her neck. “Where’s Justin?”

She rolled her eyes heavenward. What, like that tea-drinking detective was going to rush to their rescue? No one had ever done that for Iris. “Who knows? He booked out of here ten minutes ago.” Right after Mickey. “We’ll be fine.”

Sergei stepped over the railing first, only to be manhandled by two of the guards. He looked to Iris and spoke in Russian. “What if they threaten violence?”

With a grimace, she replied in his native tongue. “It means nothing. Go with them.”

The two guards holding Sergei yanked his arms behind him.

Iris voiced her outrage, in English this time. “Hey, easy there! He didn’t do anything but step on a couple plants.”

Another guard grasped her arm and practically lifted her over the railing. The fourth guard reached for Allie, but confronted by Edgar’s flattened ears and bared teeth, he wisely backed off and allowed her to step over on her own.

The tall, beefy guard holding Iris leaned into her face. “What did you say to each other?”

She leaned in to read his silver name tag. Butcher. That didn’t bode well. She swallowed the initial urge to belt him. “He was worried that you meant him harm, and I told him it would be all right and to go with you.”

“Do you think we should call Homeland Security?” one guard asked the others.

Like this weekend’s experiences wouldn’t be complete until she was labeled a terrorist. She jerked her arm free. “Come off it. We were looking for the rabbit.”

All four guards paused to consider Edgar.

The gardener plowed forward, heedless of the flowers he trampled. Ivy stuck out from the band of his pith helmet as he pointed a trembling gloved hand. “Hold that rabbit for animal control. He could have rabies.”

Iris turned on the ruddy-faced little troublemaker. “It’s not like he bit you.”

“Look at all this damage!” He huffed until he could find more words. “That rabbit destroyed all this work. It took months to shape that topiary. Just look at him—he’s a menace.”

The four guards scowled at Edgar.

From the safety of Allie’s arms, the rabbit raised his ears and wiggled his little whiskered pink nose. Iris would have sworn he was laughing. Even her lips twitched.

Cosmo would have loved this. The thought broadsided her, making it hard to breathe. After all, this was exactly the kind of absurd anarchy he was always perpetrating. The kind she always avoided.

Maybe she’d been missing out on a lot of fun all these years.

The beefy guard addressed her again. “Whose rabbit is it?”

“He’s mine.”

Iris whipped her head to glare at Allie. “No, he’s mine.”

“She’s holding the rabbit,” one guard pointed out.

“Yeah, but this one seems to be in charge,” another replied. He made it sound like it was a flaw for a woman to take command.

Iris resented the hell out of that. She’d always guided her own destiny, ever since she was a teenager. Who else was she supposed to count on?

She drew breath to rip into him, but a boisterous male voice interrupted the scene.

“Ah, here they are! I told you we would find them.”

Like the Red Sea before Moses, the crowd opened a path for Marko Gorseyev to roll his aunt’s wheelchair through.

Iris froze. “What are they doing here?”

Sergei leaned toward her ear. “I texted them. How you say, the cavalry?”

“But I don’t want to see the plants!” Tatiana’s strident voice carried through the conservatory like a bullhorn. Seated in her chair, she gripped her cane across her lap like a quarterstaff, and it vibrated with her frustration. “Who are all these people? I want to go back to the spa!”

Getting a clearer view, Iris’s jaw dropped when she saw that her aunt wore a bright orange swimsuit over her very pale and flabby body. Her hair was covered by an oversized clear plastic shower cap.

One of the guards tried to redirect them. “You’ll need to go around.”

The old lady stared at him so hard, Iris swore she could smell flesh sizzle. Finally her aunt spoke. “Do you know who you are addressing, young man?” Those last two words stole half his power.

“Aunt Tatiana,” Sergei called out with a wave.

She focused on him with a frown. “Where have you been all morning? I never got my back rub.”

The crowd started to thin, but those who were left chuckled at this free entertainment. Even Allie stared at Marko and Tatiana, dumbfounded.

Sergei flushed with good-natured embarrassment. “I’m sorry, aunt, but I had to help Iris look for the rabbit.”

Tatiana’s eyes narrowed as she surveyed the scene, and Iris tried to imagine what the old girl must be thinking. Security guards held Sergei as if he were public enemy number one. Lovely Allie had lifted Edgar’s front paw to wave at the crowd, many of whom snapped more photos for posterity.

Iris had no doubt Aunt Tatiana would lay the blame for this fiasco right at her feet. Realizing she was still barefoot, she jerked free from her captor and slipped into her heels.

“Rabbit? What rabbit?” Tatiana asked tersely.

Iris held her breath. Surely her aunt could see it.

Edgar’s ears swiveled.

“You remember the rabbit, aunt,” Sergei said calmly. He tilted his head toward Allie. “His name is Edgar.”

“Edgar?” Tatiana snorted. “Ridiculous name for a rabbit. From now on we shall call him Boris.”

“Boris?” Iris couldn’t keep the incredulity from her voice. That was all the old girl had to say? Were her Russian relatives all nuts?

Allie, who had moved beside her, elbowed her in the ribs. “Let it ride,” she said softly.

Iris sighed. She’d always suspected Cosmo was teaching the younger woman to be a con artist. This just proved her theory.

Marko laughed jovially for the security guards. “There must be some misunderstanding. This is my nephew and my niece…s.” He neatly added the s to include Allie.

The tall security guard eyed him with evident distrust. “And who are you?”

“Marko Gorseyev.”

The suits stood around, unsure what to do with this information.

More of the crowd dispersed, but Iris could still make out Jock and Pebbles waiting on the fringe.

“Someone needs to take responsibility for the damage here.” The security guard named Butcher stepped forward to address Marko in a more conversational tone. “As head of the family, I assume that would be you.”

Tatiana whacked him in the leg with her cane. “Do not be impertinent young man. I am head of this family. You may address your questions to me.”

Instead of bristling, Butcher had the grace to apologize.

Marko attempted to placate. “We arrived only yesterday from Russia. My aunt, she is still overtired from the trip.”

“Quit telling everyone how you think I should feel. I’m not tired. You interrupted my sauna and dragged me here.”

“I should get her to lunch.” As an aside, Marko added for the guards’ benefit, “Blood sugar, you know.”

This made the guards twitchy, as if they feared the old lady would suffer a diabetic attack any moment.

Iris watched her aunt with new concern and would have sworn the old lady winked at her. Before she could be sure, Tatiana was pounding the arm of her wheelchair with her fist.

“When can I go back to the sauna?”

Butcher pinched his nose, clearly at the end of his diplomacy rope.

That damn gardener wasn’t through yet. “We need to know who the rabbit belongs to—”

“The rabbit belongs to me,” Tatiana said emphatically. “The girls were watching him while I went to the spa.” She speared Iris and Allie with her hawk-like stare. “Bad girls.” She made it sound like they were toddlers.

“And may I get your name, ma’am?” Butcher asked.

She drew herself erect in the wheelchair. “I am Tatiana Gorseyev, Countess of Petrimovsluitskaya.”

Behind her, Marko coughed into his fist.

Tatiana frowned but a second at the interruption. “I recommend you have your hotel manager draw up a list of charges for any damage we may owe. He can add it to our hotel bill.”

“You’re a guest here?” Butcher asked, clearly relieved that this might offer a workable solution.

Marko nodded. “We’re staying in the Presidential Suite.”

Like magic, these words transformed the security guards from adversarial to accommodating in a blink.

“I believe we can work that out as you suggest, ma’am.” Butcher all but bowed to her. “Everyone here is a part of your family?”

“Have I not said so?” Tatiana demanded in return. She looked toward Allie. “Give me the rabbit.”

Iris would have hesitated. After all, Edgar hadn’t reacted well to big leather gloves. Who knew how he’d take to that orange swimsuit? She watched Allie carry Edgar over and plop him down on Tatiana’s lap.

Tatiana stroked the giant rabbit with her gnarled hand. In return, Edgar sat up to touch noses with her.

Around the conservatory, an “aww” rose from the remaining onlookers. Even Allie sniffed at that little tableau, and Iris’s eyes stung with tears. She chalked it up to relief that they’d found Edgar and gratitude that Aunt Tatiana had played her role so well.

“We must go back to the room,” Tatiana announced. “Edgar is tired from all this excitement.”

“But what about your sauna?” Marko asked from over her shoulder.

“I cannot take a rabbit into the sauna. What are you thinking?” Her voice was intense but not loud enough to startle Edgar, who was now sniffing at her shower cap.

Marko gave a beleaguered sigh. Overdramatized, but it did the trick. The four male security guards nodded with commiseration, then hastily retreated to their other duties, while Marko spun his aunt’s wheelchair around.

Spotty applause broke out from the scattering crowd, and Tatiana gave a princess wave as they exited the conservatory. Iris stuck close behind them, instinctively knowing there was safety in numbers, until Sergei leaned in to her.

“Where did they go?” he whispered. He pulled Allie close while his eyes scanned the lobby full of humanity.

“They who?” Allie asked.

Iris was busy searching the crowd for Jock and Pebbles, but they’d disappeared. Where had they gone? What were they up to? Instead of relief, their absence rattled her. After all, how was she supposed to avoid what she couldn’t see?

***

Outside the county jail, Jock and Pebbles waited in the double-parked purple PT Cruiser.

Pebbles’s hand rested on the steering wheel. “How long do we have to sit here?”

Jock gritted his teeth. It was the thirteenth time Pebbles had asked the question since they got here. “I told you, we wait for Turner’s call. He doesn’t want Mickey to get away this time.” Neither did Jock. He was still pissed Mickey had flattened their tire.

“Mickey said I could have the bunny. He lied.”

“Yeah, Pebbles, he lied.” Jock looked at his partner. Honestly, it was like hanging out with an elephant, except an elephant had more brains. “He’s a bad man.”

Pebbles smiled at him. “Thanks, Jock. You’re always on my side.”

“Yeah, I’ll always be on your side.” Jock leaned his head back against the seat. Three in the afternoon, and it had to be over a hundred degrees out here. “Could we please turn on the AC?”

Pebbles shook his head. “It’s bad to idle the engine. You want my fan?” He held up one of those tiny hand-held plastic things and pointed it toward Jock.

The whirring breeze in his face made him squint. “Get that thing away from me.”

“Sorry.”

Jock’s cell chirped. Finally. He flipped the phone open. “Yeah.”

“Bail him out and bring him to me now.” Turner’s command brooked no argument. “Mess this up, and you two are dead.”

“Yessir.” Jock fingered his tie. “Might I just say—”

The phone went dead.

“Yeah, well, fuck you very much.” He popped the phone back into his pocket. Jeez, ever since Mickey and Fortune’s daughter escaped last night, Turner talked to him as if he and Pebbles were a couple of morons. Find Cosmo—hell, the old guy was supposed to be two days dead—no, wait, don’t worry about Cosmo, go get his daughter. Yeah, that had been a circus. She’d had herself surrounded by an army, and all Pebbles could talk about was that goddamn rabbit. Then, out of the blue, Turner called all pissed off and demanded they drop everything and go bail Mickey out of jail. No, wait—go there and sit until Turner said to move.

What, like they were a couple of trained dogs?

Jock looked at his bumpy-headed partner whose mouth hung open while he enjoyed the breeze from that goddamn whirring fan. “Wait here. I’m going in to get Mickey.”

The big guy nodded.

Entering the jail made Jock’s skin crawl. He’d been here himself a couple times—well, five, if anyone were keeping count. Actually, the uniforms around here did tend to keep count, and they reminded you of it all the time. Thirty days in this place sucked the brain energy from you, made you do stupid things. Like make friends with an elephant.

Well, today he wasn’t here as a prisoner. Today, he had the upper hand. Jock decided to play it cool.

That plan fell through within two minutes.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” he asked the cop at the desk. “Where’d he go?”

The cop peered over a pair of half glasses at him, too bored to even frown. “You want to be smart? Get the hell out.” He flinched as someone slid a clipboard bursting with papers beneath his elbow. “Someone else bailed him out first. If you’ve got a problem with that, don’t talk to me about it.”

Jock’s fingers twitched as they always did whenever he’d been played for a fool. This was so goddamn Mickey. Here they’d been sitting out in that car for the past hour and a half, and Mickey wasn’t even here.

Shit, what was he going to tell Turner?

“Excuse me, sir?” Jock smacked his lips at the distasteful necessity of being polite. “Can you tell me who bailed him out?”

The cop pulled his glasses down his nose to sneer at him. “Oh, so now you want to get on my good side, is that it?”

Jock reminded himself this was a matter of life and death—his own. Grinding his teeth together, he forced his next words out. “Please, sir?”

“Hold on.” Papers flipped and shuffled. “Michael Kincaid, released thirty minutes ago. Says here a Cosmo Fortune posted his bail.” The cop chuckled. “Now there’s a stupid name. How’d you like to be stuck with that all your life?”

“Don’t know.” Depends on how long your life lasts. For Cosmo, that wasn’t going to be long. Jock stormed toward the exit, wondering how Mickey and that magician had gotten out of here without him seeing them. As soon as he cleared the doors, he dialed Mickey’s cell phone.

Mickey picked up after only two rings. “How’s that tire doing?” The smug sonofabitch.

“Is Cosmo with you?” Jock snapped.

“Haven’t seen him.”

“But he bailed you out.”

Mickey chuckled. “I posted my own bail. I just asked them to tell you that.”

“Why the fuck would you do that, man?”

“It got you to call me, didn’t it? Now I know exactly where you are. How long have you been sitting out there, Jock? An hour? Two?” Mickey laughed some more.

That rumbling chuckle grated Jock’s nerves. Every time he’d gone head to head with Mickey, that bastard had bested him. It would be a pleasure to make sure Mickey got what was coming to him. “You’re a dead man, Kincaid,” he sneered into the phone.

“Jock, I’ve got news for you—it takes one to know one.”

***

It was late afternoon when Allie serpentined through the tables at the Venetian in search of her sister’s dark curls. Zeroing in on them, she sidled up to the table, devoid of players at the moment, and seated herself.

Cory’s eyes darkened at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” Her brows rose in a clear order for Allie to leave her alone.

She ignored the message.

Cory sighed. “Hell, are you even old enough to gamble?”

Setting her jaw in a hard line, Allie guarded against the brimming tears. She would not cry. Her sisters already thought she was a baby. Well, screw it. She didn’t need their approval. She just wanted them to accept her as family.

“Don’t start, all right? I’ve already had a run-in with Iris today, and I’m over it. She’s pissed at Cosmo, you’re pissed at your mom, and I’m tired of being the scratching post. Go sharpen your claws on someone else.”

“Why was Iris pissed?”

Allie coughed up a sharp bitter laugh. When wasn’t Iris pissed? “She just discovered she’s got Russian relatives on her mom’s side, and they’re in town.”

“What kind of relatives?”

“An old lady aunt, who I think must have been a hell-raiser in her day, and a boisterous uncle, and wow, you should see cousin Sergei.” Her eyes rolled heavenward and her tension eased a bit at the memory.

“He’s hot?”

“He could light ice on fire. And his accent?” Allie sighed. “Lethal.”

Cory grinned. “Was Iris freaking out?”

“Totally. Except then I tried to introduce myself and she shushed me up, and the next thing I knew, I was her cousin instead of her sister.” Allie still felt the sting of being disowned. It was humiliating. “I guess her relatives didn’t know about Daddy’s other wives.”

“That’s no excuse,” Cory said. “God, Iris can be such a bitch.”

Allie relaxed some more in her chair, prepared to let the whole matter go now that Cory had sided with her.

Cory was quiet for a few moments. “You didn’t come here to gloat about this morning?”

“I wouldn’t do that.” She straightened in her seat. “Look, I swear, I never had a clue she was your mom. I mean, I didn’t even know you existed until two days ago. I just went there this morning because I had a feeling…”

“And?”

Suddenly self-conscious, Allie shrugged. “I usually only have these premonitions with animals. They’re like images of what will happen. The only person I’ve ever been that connected to is Daddy, but ever since I met you and Iris—”

“Great, you’re getting some kind of closed captioning on my life.”

“No, that’s just it. I didn’t go there because I thought I’d see you. I went because I felt sure Daddy would show up there.”

Cory watched her. “Did you see him?’

“No. After you left, it felt too weird to stay. I paid up and went to campus.”

They looked across the table at each other in silence. Finally, Cory licked her lips then asked, “Was she a good babysitter?”

“Yeah. You know, as babysitters go. Not that I was a baby—I was eight when I met her. It’s just that Daddy had to start traveling more, and he wanted someone to stay at the house with me.”

Their gazes locked as they both realized their father would have had to spend more time with Cory after her mother left.

“So, she didn’t try to be a mom to you or anything?”

Allie snorted. “Now that would be a waste. My mom died when I was two. What do I know about how a mom should be?”

“But with Papa traveling so much—”

“He was home a lot when I was little. He always said it was just him and me. He’s the only family I’ve ever known. Oh, sure, there was Aunt Erna when I was a baby. And then there were all sorts of reliable sitters. Even the other moms in the neighborhood looked out for me. But the only family I’ve ever had is Daddy. Don’t you see what having sisters means to me?” Allie reached out her fingers.

“Don’t.” Cory laid her hands palm down on the table. “I’m not allowed to touch any of the players while I’m working.”

With a guilty expression, Allie pulled her hands back and clasped them before her.

A floor supervisor stopped in passing, his suit crisp as newly minted bills. “Everything all right, Miss Fortune?”

“Yes,” Allie answered, drawing a scowl from her sister. Allie dug in her pockets until she came up with a twenty dollar bill. “Let me try a hand.”

The supervisor rolled his eyes at such a tiny sum, but Cory quickly turned it into chips. With a shake of his head, the guy walked on to the next table.

“The curse of the job—it’s not very good for personal conversations. But I think I understand.” Cory’s expression softened, her dark eyes revealing insecurity that Allie could appreciate. “And I’m not mad at you. How could I blame you for—well, it was just awkward this morning. I thought I was prepared to see her, but I wasn’t.”

With surprise, Allie leaned forward. “You knew she’d be there?”

Cory dealt a hand. “Oh yeah. I learned she was back in Vegas about ten years ago.”

Chapter Sixteen

It was after five that evening when Foote opened the apartment building’s front door to usher Iris inside. “I could carry that for you.”

“No, thanks.” Iris juggled the box containing Edgar. “I want your hands free to defend me, just in case.” She’d been jumpy all afternoon, ever since she lost track of Jock and Pebbles.

And Mickey.

Foote looked at her in that earnest way he had. “Are you sure you saw those kidnappers there? I mean, you’ve been under a lot of stress.” He shut his mouth when she glared at him.

Hell, yeah, she’d been under some stress. Her father had gone missing three nights ago, she had new sisters, new cousins, ten stones from a family heirloom riding around on Edgar’s neck, she’d broken her engagement, been kidnapped—and her kidnappers were still stalking her.

“I saw them,” she said crisply as they exited the elevator.

Foote took her keys from her and let them into the apartment. “Will you wait here while I check it out?”

She nodded. Her nervousness was worse, and seeing Edgar’s ears at straight-up alert wasn’t helping. Foote made a circuit through the dining room and kitchen, then down the hall to the bedroom.

A male voice shouting “Freeze!” sent her heart leaping into her throat. Her eyelids slammed shut, and she stifled the scream that rose at the thought of anyone’s blood being spilled in her home.

When no gunshot cracked the silence, she sneaked an eyelid open. Foote didn’t have his gun aimed at anyone—he didn’t even have a gun in his hand. His hands were both reaching for the ceiling as he faced someone within the bedroom.

“You got me that time,” Foote said in a calm tone. He dropped his arms to his sides.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.” Mickey’s voice, full of irritation, carried from the bedroom. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you.”

Iris’s momentary relief at knowing he was safe was quickly routed by outrage that he’d broken into her apartment again and used it as a flophouse. Damn, why had she wasted even a minute worrying about him this afternoon!

Foote gave her a nod as he strode past. “I’ll wait outside.” He shut the front door with a soft click.

She dragged a hand through her loose curls. They must look like a disaster after the day she’d had. Mickey showed no sign of coming out of the bedroom, so she set the box on the floor and pulled Edgar from it. Deciding she could use some moral support, she carried the rabbit with her to confront her unwanted guest.

He lay on her bed, fully dressed, massaging his eyes with one hand.

“What do you think you’re doing here?”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised. Didn’t Hunter give you my message that I’d be lying low this afternoon?” He sat up, revealing his gun resting next to the pillow.

“He called Allie and she told me, but why would I assume you meant here?” In fact, she’d figured he’d wanted some time and space away from her. After all, what did he need her for? She didn’t have the gems, she didn’t know where her father was. There was no reason for him to continue to feign interest in her.

“Where else would I go?”

The ingenuousness of his question gave her pause. “Don’t you live somewhere?”

“Yeah, I do, whenever there’s not a killer staking out the place.”

Embarrassed, she realized she hadn’t considered that. She retreated to the living room, unsure what to do next.

Mickey followed, scrubbing his jaw. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and now he looked as scruffy and wild as he had that first time she’d seen him at the fundraiser. Even then, she’d suspected he was dangerous—she just hadn’t known the danger would be to her heart.

“Mind if I make some coffee?” He didn’t wait for an answer—not that he ever did—before he trod past her into the kitchen.

She tightened her hold on Edgar until the rabbit squirmed. “Oh, sorry, Eddy,” she whispered. She released him onto the carpet and watched him hobble-hop to the coffee table where he blinked at her a couple times. The collar around his neck reminded her that nothing over the past few days was turning out to be what she thought it was.

No matter how much she wanted those stones to be the Romanov alexandrite, they weren’t. And no matter how much she wanted Mickey to have feelings for her, he wouldn’t.

He was a cop on a case. If it weren’t for the gems and her crazy father, Mickey wouldn’t have spared her a second glance. He might swear to protect her, but that was all part of his job. And when the job was over? Well, people didn’t stick around for her—not even her own father. She’d be a fool to forget that.

Resolved, she stormed the kitchen doorway, intent on taking immediate control of the situation. “Look, I don’t care whether you’re a thief or a cop, but you can’t keep breaking in here. You’ve invaded my home, my family, my privacy—”

The sadness in his blue eyes stopped her momentum. “Iris, I know I hurt you when I disappeared this morning, but this is important. This is your life we’re talking about.”

She tilted her head at the obvious stress in his tone. “My life as in—?”

“As in your life.” More awake now, he paced the kitchen tile with the deliberateness of a caged cougar. “The guy behind this whole thing is Robert Donovan. Ever heard of him?”

She choked out an incredulous laugh. “Of course I’ve heard of him. He donated to David’s campaign. Last Christmas he bought some jewelry from my shop. The man owns properties all over Vegas.”

He looked her squarely in the eye. “He wants you dead.”

She snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“Donovan was there this afternoon. I tried to catch him, but security took me down.” He pulled a cup from the cupboard then turned back, his brow furrowed. “Does your father have any connection with him?”

“Cosmo and Robert Donovan? That would be—” A memory struck her with enough clarity to make her reel back. “Oh, my God. When Donovan bought the bracelet and earrings from my store, he asked about Cosmo.”

“What do you mean, asked about him?”

“Cosmo once worked in one of Donovan’s casinos. He headlined one of the smaller stages, maybe a decade ago. So Donovan asked what he was up to, where he was working.”

“What did you tell him?”

Iris swallowed. “I told him Cosmo was between gigs—that’s pretty normal for him these days. And Donovan said to tell Cosmo to contact him if he wanted a job.”

Their eyes met, and her stomach churned at the thought that she’d been somehow responsible for setting her father on a dangerous path. “You think he’s behind this whole thing? Why didn’t you tell me this right away?”

“I’m not used to keeping witnesses on my cases informed of my every movement.” He turned away to pour coffee into his cup. From his interrogation and now his preoccupied tone, he’d made another of those chameleon changes, and right now he was one-hundred-percent cop.

“Is that all I am? A witness on this case?” At least now she understood.

“No!” His eyes focused on her again. “No,” he repeated, more softly.

“Then what am I?” Suddenly, she had a desperate need to know. “Am I a suspect? A partner in crime? A friend? A lover? Are you here because I’m some duty you think you need to fulfill?”

“Now stop it!” His eyes glittered as if she’d awakened some angry beast. He rubbed the back of his neck with tense fingers. “Right now you’re being a pain in the ass.”

She refused to back down. “It’s a simple enough question. I think it deserves an answer.”

He stared at her, intimidating as hell.

Still, she waited.

“You’re important to me. I don’t know how else to define it.”

Crossing her arms, she leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. “And were you thinking that this morning when you left?”

“I made a mistake, okay? What do you want from me?”

“I don’t want anything—”

“Oh, come off it. All women want things. Promises, grand gestures, sacrifices.”

She watched him for a moment while umbrage festered in her gut. Whoever had sparked that outburst, it hadn’t been her. “Look, I didn’t ask for any of this. You broke into my home and asked for my help. I gave it. Since then, I’ve been abducted, accused, threatened and stalked.”

“Hey, I saved your life.”

“Yeah? And you’d probably be dead now if it weren’t for me.” She expelled a breath as she tried to quell the roiling emotions within her. Carefully, she sought words to tell him what she could barely explain to herself. “I’ve only known you a few days, but you’ve changed everything I know, everything I am. And yet, I don’t know a thing about you.”

“So, what do you want?” he asked quietly.

“I want you to talk to me, Mickey. Just tell me something about who you are.”

“I’m a cop.”

“Not what you are.” A tiny snort escaped her. “Who you are.”

He shook his head, clearly at a loss. “Give me a place to start.”

Iris was reminded that when he’d faced death the previous night, he’d called home. “Tell me about your mom.”

He studied her as if he hoped to uncover some secret meaning behind her request. Finally, he must have accepted its simplicity, because his lips curved into an easy, open smile that stripped him of all the artifice he generally practiced. “Mom’s the best. She bakes cherry cobbler and she cries at old movies—especially Westerns with John Wayne.” His head gave a small shake as he raised his coffee cup to his lips.

Apparently he didn’t agree with his mom’s taste in movies.

“She works hard, loves fiercely, empathizes with everyone in her community. She volunteers down at the church—says it’s her duty, but she really likes knowing what’s going on with everyone in the congregation—and she sings contralto in the choir. She taught me to care about people, to defend my honor and that of those who deserved it.”

Mickey studied her over his cup. “Seems to me you now know who my mother is. I don’t know how much I told you about me.”

“A lot,” she whispered past the tightness in her throat. He spoke of his mother with a reverence that illustrated how deeply he loved her.

“What about your mother?”

“Oh, you know all about me and my life.” She stared down at her feet.

“I had a three-page document with facts and dates. Tell me about her.” When she hesitated, his eyes gleamed with a hint of their typical wariness. “What, isn’t this a two-way street?”

Iris sighed, but after some thought, she complied. “She was an artist with incredible talent. She loved history and cultures and travel, and she could see beauty in simple rocks and metals. She knew how to tell a story.”

“She died in a car accident?”

Iris nodded. Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked to clear them. When that didn’t work, she brushed at them.

Mickey set his cup down and came to her. Cupping her jaw gently, he tilted her face toward him. His blue eyes reflected her pain, her loss. “Tell me about it.”

“Not much to tell. Heavy rain moved in. There was a pileup on the interstate, a couple trucks, a bunch of cars. It wasn’t her fault, it was just an accident. Four people died.”

“How did you get the news?”

“Cosmo told me. There wasn’t anything we could do. She was just gone. It was so sudden. So final.”

“It’s hard to lose someone unexpectedly,” Mickey said softly. He kissed the top of her head, then drew a heavy breath.

Iris gave a little self-conscious shrug. “It was a long time ago. I still miss her, but that freezing pain has ebbed.” She gripped Mickey’s hand, as if he could hold her from sinking into the memories of her loss.

His fingers tightened on hers until she was sure he’d cut off the blood flow. “It steals your breath for a while, doesn’t it?”

Belatedly, she realized he was thinking about his brother. “How long ago did your brother—?”

“Six months.”

She waited, unwilling to press him for details, knowing the pain might still be too raw.

Mickey gathered her close to rest his cheek against the top of her head. “He was my kid brother, two years younger than me. Growing up, he wanted to do everything I did. He followed me through Little League, varsity football and the police academy. Brian hadn’t even hit his twenty-eighth birthday. He’d been married less than two years. He wanted to be just like me, and it got him killed.”

Iris pulled away far enough to study his face. “You don’t really believe that’s true.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. “The irony is he wasn’t even on duty that night. Went down to the corner store after dinner. There was some kid trying to hold up the joint, and he had the clerk at gunpoint. Brian tried to talk the kid down, almost had him, when another guy shot him in the back.”

Mickey stared dully into space. “He never even saw it coming. Thought he was dealing with one kid when there was a whole gang involved.”

A tear slid down Iris’s face. From Mickey’s story, his brother’s death had been a tragedy in every sense.

Mickey focused on her once more, his own cheeks damp. “I buried myself in work to escape remembering that Brian’s gone. Every time I remembered, it reminded me I couldn’t feel anymore. Iris, I don’t know that I can even name what this is when I’m with you. I can’t trust it enough to make promises—”

Iris laid her forefinger against his lips to shush him. “What is it with you and promises? Why can’t there just be us, right here, right now?”

“In the moment.” He kissed her finger and smiled. “Is that what you want?”

“I’ll tell you what I want.” She twined her arms around his strength, vine to his tree. “I want you, like this, feeling whatever it is you feel for me. Because whatever it is, it’s enough for now.” She stretched up on her toes to kiss him.

The coffee on his lips and tongue tasted dark and bitter but refreshing as she hungrily explored his mouth, drawing a guttural purr from him. With a shadow of a smile, she trailed kisses across his stubbly chin and throat until she reached his delicate ear. Pulling him to her, she nibbled his earlobe while her hands massaged his nape and her fingers furrowed into his hair.

“God, do you know what you do to me?” His lips whispered across her cheek.

“Tell me.”

His hands gripped her waist. “This.” He lifted her up and seated her on the kitchen counter. “And this.” He hiked her skirt up until her bare thighs felt the cool granite surface. He held her gaze trapped in his. “And this.” Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse, revealing the lacey bra beneath.

She pulled him to her breasts, and he complied with her unspoken desire. His hands cupped and warmed her while he kissed along her clavicle. Her nipples puckered in response and his thumbs teased the taut buds. She gasped, and he answered her request by sliding her straps down her arms. Since she still wore her open blouse and jacket, this left her arms trapped at her sides, but she didn’t mind. It only heightened the experience as he laved her breasts with agonizing care and detail.

Leaning her head back against the upper cupboard, she surrendered to his ministering mouth. Meanwhile, his hands spread her thighs as far as her skirt would allow them to open. Fingers whispered across her heated flesh, and she remembered how she’d longed to have him take her while she was bound.

He stepped back to look at her, his hooded eyes glinting in the fading daylight. “Is this what you want?” He bent down to press his warm mouth to the inside of her knee.

Her whole body responded with a reflexive jerk that made him pause and look up at her again. “Is it?”

“Yes.”

Mickey chuckled. “I’m so glad tonight the guard is on the outside of the door.” With that, he bent to taste her flesh again.

Iris closed her eyes, willing to forget there was any world beyond the host of sensation she experienced as he suckled his way up her inner thigh.

***

Reading the giant red nine-fifteen on her alarm clock, Iris knew she was going to have to let Mickey return to the dangers of the real world. She looked over at him, sprawled across her bed, dozing in relaxed contentment.

Not even that damn gun on his pillow could unnerve her anymore.

They’d spent a few blissful stolen hours pretending, lingering over each other as if neither had a care in the world. Mickey had played her to a crescendo in the kitchen—her skin still heated at the memory. Afterwards, he’d carried her to the bedroom, where they’d made love at a torturous snail’s pace, discovering every nuance they could reveal about each other. These few hours had been heaven.

But now it was time to face their responsibilities. They both needed answers from Cosmo—Iris to learn the truth behind the alexandrite, and Mickey to catch the killers. She snuggled against Mickey’s side, trailing her fingernails across his muscled chest. He responded with a hum of approval before he opened his eyes to regard her.

“Why would Cosmo try to con Robert Donovan?” she asked. Not that she expected Mickey to have the answer.

“And why would Robert Donovan hire Turner to kill the people involved with purchasing these gems?”

A sudden chill swept over Iris, making her shudder.

Seeing it, Mickey enfolded her in his warm arms. “It’s going to be all right. I’ll find your father tonight. We’ll solve this, and no one else will get hurt.”

“I delivered Donovan’s message. Cosmo was so pleased, but then it never seemed to lead to anything.” She touched Mickey’s chiseled jaw. “I put him in harm’s way. I can’t do the same to you.”

“I thought you didn’t care what happened to me.”

“I lied,” she admitted with a sidelong glance.

Those sensuous lips of his eased into that cocksure grin that always made her weak-kneed. “I’m glad. I don’t know what this is between us, Iris Fortune, but it’s good, isn’t it?”

“It is.” She returned his sweet kiss.

“And I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.” Mickey climbed out of bed. “I’m going to shower.”

She let him go, knowing instinctively that he needed some time and privacy to change back into the trickster persona that had kept him alive this far. But it didn’t escape her that even after all her protestations, he’d somehow managed to make her a promise—one he couldn’t possibly control. One that would endanger him to keep.

Later, Iris watched Mickey get dressed. “You haven’t changed your clothes since yesterday morning.”

“Like I said, my place stopped being safe. Maybe I’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

“I could come with you now,” she suggested. “The shops will be open at the casinos. You could buy a few things.”

“Iris, no.” He came toward her, his eyes soft in the twilight shimmering from the window. “We’ve been over this. I’ll try to find Cosmo, and you stay here with Foote at the door and keep an eye on those gems.”

A smile threatened, and she pursed her lips against it. She’d known he would insist on leaving her behind, but felt it important she air her dissatisfaction.

“Now don’t pout,” he said.

“Was I?” David would never have put up with her pouting, but Mickey was amused by it. Actually, his amusement riled her more. “But, Mickey—”

“N-O. If you don’t behave, I’ll have Foote put you under house arrest.”

She slumped back against the headboard and pulled her knees to her chest. “You didn’t used to tell me what to do.”

“I used to pretend I was a thief.” He sat on the bed to pull his boots on, but leaned across to touch her cheek first. “If anything happened to you, I…” He swallowed.

“I know. I worry about you, too. You’ll be careful out there tonight, right?”

“You bet. I’ll be back before dawn, and with any luck I’ll have Cosmo with me.” He tugged the boots on and stood.

Iris shifted onto her knees and leaned in to kiss him once hard on the lips. “Come back to me.”

“I will.”

Moments later, he was gone, leaving Iris with butterflies the size of dragons in her stomach. Some of it was worry for Mickey’s safety, but the bigger portion devoured her because she had a plan—one she knew Mickey would hate.

Which was why she hadn’t told him.

Chapter Seventeen

Mickey trod quietly down the service corridor that linked the various stores in the Bellagio’s shopping wing. Hopefully, he could avoid any security guards. He doubted the three he met earlier today would be happy to see him again, and they’d probably made a point to share his picture with everyone else on their team. Michael Kincaid, Madman.

Arriving at the back entrance to Iris’s shop, he pressed the buzzer. Within moments, Ginny opened the door and motioned him inside. Her eyes were alight with excitement.

“This is so cool,” she whispered. “Now tell me, who are you really?”

“You’re better off not knowing. I’m trouble.”

That only made her grin. “Iris doesn’t think so. Although if David gets wind of what’s going on, poof.” She flicked her fingers open like a tiny explosion.

“Poof?” Apparently, David didn’t do anything big. Since it wasn’t Mickey’s place to discuss Iris’s relationships, he redirected the conversation to here and now. “Look, you should get back out on the floor.” The store’s eleven o’clock closing time was only ten minutes away.

Ginny retreated toward the sales floor. “How is this going to work?”

“I’m going to sit back here. You do what you normally do. Put everything away, lock up and go home like normal. The only step you should skip is setting the alarm.”

“Got it.” Her fingers formed a big okay sign, and with a grin she skipped back out to the floor.

Mickey released a tense breath. He didn’t like letting Ginny in on even this much of his evening’s plans, but Iris had been adamant that the girl was reliable. He had to admit, it was a lot easier to let her lock him in here than to try and break in without getting caught.

Getting caught in the act of breaking and entering would be a hard one for him to explain to security. Today of all days.

He sat on Iris’s stool. She’d said Cosmo had been breaking in between eleven and midnight, so once Ginny locked up, he might not have long to wait. Meanwhile… He looked around the workroom. Curious about all the lateral file cabinets, he went over and tested one. Locked. He tried not to take it personally. This was her place of business. It’s not like Iris was purposely keeping more secrets from him.

But he’d sensed she was holding something back. Not while they’d made love, but afterward. Like she’d wanted to say something but didn’t dare. And that meant she still didn’t trust him.

He’d fallen for a woman who didn’t believe in him. Come to think of it, she’d had more faith in him when she thought he was Mickey the thief than she did now. At least she’d been more open with him.

He’d been confiding in her all weekend, asking for her help, depending on her. The only other person he’d ever treated that way had been Brian. Losing his brother had opened up an abyss that had sucked away any good or positive feelings for months. But Iris had helped fill that void. Maybe with her help, he could overcome this paralysis that prevented him from feeling anything.

He sat again and waited, trying to blank his mind to everything except for the moment when he came face to face with Cosmo Fortune again. In a few minutes, Ginny came in the back to shut off the lights and say goodbye. He listened as her key grated in the lock, and then only silence remained.

As solitude enshrouded him, Mickey felt an unaccountable urge to reach out to someone. He thought about calling his parents, but if his mother were in the mood to talk, he might never be able to end the conversation. No, there was one call he needed to make, and he’d put it off far too long.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the familiar Boston number before he realized what time it would be there.

Despite it being after two in the morning, she answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Suze?”

“Michael.” She drew breath and exhaled, and he knew she’d succumbed to her smoking addiction again. “I wondered if you’d ever have the balls to call me. Still working odd hours, I see.”

“I’m on a job out west. Sorry, I didn’t think how late it would be for you.”

She bit off a laugh. “It’s never too late. That’s something I’ve learned.”

“How are you doing?” He pictured her. Suze Freeman had made varsity cheerleader in her freshman year at high school. Tall, strong, stacked, with long dark hair and walnut-brown eyes. But it was her attitude that attracted the guys more than anything. She’d been named Homecoming Queen her senior year, but long before that she’d staked her territory on the hearts of every male at Channing High School.

Some girls with her looks, brains and talent would have turned into real bitches. Never Suze. He’d noticed her—hell, all the guys had noticed her. Mickey had even thought about asking her out. And then he’d realized the most amazing thing about her: she only had eyes for Brian.

After graduation, she’d gone into advertising while his brother went through the academy. She’d waited patiently while he’d worked his way into the Boston PD. They’d delayed their marriage three times, waiting until they had the incomes they felt necessary to live the life they wanted. Together, they’d planned so carefully, their futures dedicated to each other.

And it had all gone so terribly wrong.

“Sounds like you’re smoking again.”

“Are you worried for my health? Believe me, if the past six months didn’t kill me, nothing will.” She took another slow drag on the cigarette. “Still saving mankind?”

“Something like that.”

“You Kincaid men. Driven. I just don’t understand it.” He heard some rustling, and imagined her sitting up in bed, arranging the pillows, hopefully dabbing that cigarette out before she burned down her home. “What does it get you?”

“It’s who we are, Suze. Didn’t you and Brian talk about it?”

“He said the same truisms—who we are. Maybe I never understood him. All I wanted was a better life for us.”

For her, Mickey thought. Then he kicked himself, because the woman had already had her life pulled apart. Of course she wanted a piece of it back—any piece.

By their first anniversary, she’d done everything she could to convince Brian to quit his job on the force. Apparently, the reality of being a cop’s wife didn’t match up with the preordained image she had of their life together. She wanted him to make more money, work weekdays only, and she’d made it clear to all the Kincaids how she resented that Brian wouldn’t make this one sacrifice for her. She’d finally drawn the line and refused to consider having children until Brian had a safe job.

Brian had laughed it off and said she’d come around. But she’d hurt his brother with that lack of confidence, Mickey could tell. Now he wondered if she still believed she were better off without having a baby, but he didn’t dare broach the question with her.

“Is this a temporary assignment?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“When you come back to Boston, you should resign. No one would question it. It’s too hard for you to work there every day after your brother—”

“It wasn’t the job. He wasn’t even on duty when it happened.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said vehemently. “That job indoctrinates you, sets expectations until you automatically act. He wouldn’t be dead today if he hadn’t been a cop.” Her voice rasped with the bitterness that tinged her furious outburst.

“Yeah, he would,” Mickey said simply. As painful as the words were to say, he experienced a type of relief, of freedom, in saying them. And that’s when he knew he’d been angry at his brother for dying. Just like Suze, he’d blamed Brian—like it was Brian’s fault he’d gotten himself murdered in a convenience store.

No, his brother died because it was his instinctive nature to help someone in need. Just as it had been their father’s. Just as it was Mickey’s.

His sister-in-law still sounded lost, adrift without Brian to anchor her. Mickey sought words to console them both. “It’s not fair. He was a good man trying to do the right thing, and a maniac killed him.”

“Yeah, well, both my priest and my shrink have assured me that life isn’t always fair.”

“No, it’s not.” He stretched the cords in his neck to relieve the tightness there. “How do you deal with it?”

“I get up every morning and try to make it through the day without killing myself.”

Mickey understood her. He’d felt that same despair, but he hadn’t had the luxury to hide, to wait, to heal. He’d gone right back to work where he spent every day trying not to get killed.

Maybe they weren’t so different after all.

“We can’t stop living,” she said. “Brian wouldn’t want that.”

“Did the shrink tell you that?”

She gave another of those half laughs. “Actually, that was the priest.” She tried to hide a yawn.

“You’re tired. I’ll let you go. Sorry I called so late.”

“I’m not. Call anytime you want to talk. And Michael, be careful.”

Mickey closed his phone. His head dropped forward as some of the tension seeped from his shoulders. He’d avoided talking to Suze for so long. They’d each fed off the other’s bitterness and done nothing but made each other feel worse. The hard truth was there was nothing either of them could have done. It had been a tragedy, pure and simple. Brian had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. He’d used his training to the best of his ability, tried to do the right thing, but he hadn’t had time to analyze the situation unfolding around him.

Suze still couldn’t accept that Brian had no choice that night. He wasn’t the kind of person to walk away from that convenience store when someone’s life was at risk. Even if he’d known he was about to die, he would have done the same thing.

Mickey lifted his head to look around the dark workroom. The solitude was no longer so oppressive. He knew why—the void of Brian’s death was no longer an empty chasm. It was still there, filled with dark emotions—anger, loss, bitterness—but perched along the edges he could feel hope, as if Brian were there, willing him to try again.

Willing him to be happy.

Mickey thought back over the past week. As the danger had closed in around Cosmo and then Iris and himself, he’d connected with his parents in a way he’d been unable to since Brian’s death. That unrealistic guilt he’d felt about still being alive lessened the more it looked like he might actually die.

And Iris—hell, she’d made him feel hope and happiness he hadn’t experienced in years. It wasn’t just that she was sexually attracted to him—although he wasn’t complaining about that. No, he got an even bigger charge out of her watching him with those brandy eyes shining with faith. He’d screwed up that trust this morning, but he’d win her back. Failing Iris wasn’t an option.

A scratching at the back door interrupted his thoughts, alerting him that someone was outside. Mickey hunkered down behind the worktable, prepared to finally capture that elusive charlatan, Cosmo Fortune.

***

For her command center, Iris chose the farthest slot machine in the row that faced her storefront. Here, she had a view through the front doors to the display cases filled with her jewelry creations, yet this spot also provided potential camouflage. This was important—she didn’t want Cosmo to see her before she spied him. While Mickey stood a good chance of catching her father, she knew he could be as elusive as hell. She wanted to minimize any chance he would escape.

With that in mind, she wore blue jeans and a pink tank top layered over a white scoop neck T-shirt. Her curls were scraped back into a ponytail and stuffed under a baseball cap to further hide them. The worst part of dressing had been squeezing into her running shoes. Iris still grimaced at the feel of the flat shoes encasing her feet. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn them, much less run.

Still, if tonight were anything like last night, comfort and mobility were going to be more important than style. She shuddered at the memory of having to run down that apartment building’s musty stairwell barefoot.

“Drinking coffee at this hour will keep you awake all night, you know.” Officer Foote handed her the coffee shop’s logoed cup.

“That’s rather the point.” She motioned for him to give over the little packets of cream.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here?”

“I’m here to meet my sisters and play slots.” She poured some cream into her cup. “You’re just following me.”

“I was hoping for the truth this time.”

She tilted her head to regard his earnest face from beneath her cap. “I don’t think that’s likely, do you?”

He took a step back. “I suppose not.”

“Buck up. I don’t think we’re going to get into any danger tonight. Just hang out at the casino with the girls.” She smiled at him. While she hadn’t liked the idea of a shadow, especially one in uniform, he did make her feel safer. But she also knew if she told him she were tracking Mickey and her father, he’d tell Hunter in a heartbeat. Mickey wasn’t going to arrest her father, but she wasn’t so sure about Hunter.

The police had a long list of questions for Cosmo Fortune, but they were going to have to wait in line behind Iris and her sisters.

“There you are!”

Iris looked up to see Cory hurrying toward her. The brunette had likewise chosen running shoes and a green jogging suit. Her long dark curls were pulled into a knot at the back of her head. “Wow, you weren’t kidding with that description. ‘Look for the young, earnest police officer near my store.’ He’s like a beacon.”

“That’s it.” Iris shooed Foote away. “Go stand over there. I don’t need you calling attention to us.” He retreated, but she didn’t trust the speculation in his eye. She turned to her sister. “Is Allie coming?”

“She said she would, but she’s got a show tonight. Second curtain went up at ten-thirty.” Cory studied her, a hint of fire in her eyes. “She’s angry with you, you know.”

“Allie?” Iris blinked. “What did I do?”

“She said she met your cousins, but you wouldn’t admit she was your sister.”

She vented a groan of frustration. “I don’t need this tonight. They came halfway around the world to meet me, and they think I’m Cosmo’s only child. They already know he’s a jewel thief, I shouldn’t have to explain his marriages to them—he needs to do that himself. Honestly, I could just kill him.”

Cory’s back stiffened. “We don’t know that Papa stole anything.”

“According to my Aunt Tatiana, he stole the gems from her.”

“Then we need to find him, so he can explain.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Iris sat in the padded chair facing the giant sevens on the slot machine. Finally she turned to Cory. “Was she really upset?”

With a sigh, Cory slumped into the chair beside her. “Look, we’re all trying to figure out what it means to be sisters. Now you’ve got these cousins, but Allie’s got no one but Papa and us.”

“What about you?” Iris stared down into her coffee. “I mean, according to that sheet the police gave us, none of us had any close family other than Cosmo.”

Cory regarded her as if trying to gauge whether or not she was worthy of trust.

Iris held her breath, afraid of what her sister might decide.

“What the hell,” Cory said on an exhalation. “Allie already knows, so I may as well tell you. But this is my problem. No one but me talks to Papa about it.”

“What?” Iris pushed aside any hurt at being left out of the loop. Apparently she was going to be let in on it now.

“My mother isn’t dead like that police report said. She’s very much alive.”

***

Cosmo slipped down the back service hallway. Midnight or noon, didn’t matter, this hallway was always the same, with its off-white walls and glaring overhead lights. Bare, utilitarian and, thankfully, devoid of people. Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered to avoid the security guards—most of the guys knew him as Iris’s father—but things were more dicey now that the police had released that APB on him.

He slipped the key into the door of Lying Eyes. Once inside, he turned to the alarm system, only to discover it hadn’t been set. Alerted, he peered around the dark workroom. Someone was here. “Iris?”

“She’s not here, you old trickster, you’re stuck with me. And I think you and I have a little unfinished business.”

The light over the worktable snapped on, momentarily blinding Cosmo with the unexpected brightness. When his vision cleared, he found Mickey silhouetted, his back to the light, a gun in his hand.

Three goddamn nights of this, and he was right back where he started—Mickey had the drop on him.

“If you came back for the stones, Iris has them for safekeeping.”

“I left her a note to tell her I would be back for them.”

“She found your note, but I think she wants to talk with you in person.”

I bet she does. Cosmo ran his tongue over his teeth while his mind raced with how to play this. “Mickey, you know the kind of people we’re dealing with. Help me get the stones back from Iris. Once I finish this transaction, I’ll explain everything to her.”

“No deal. Iris has decided they need to be returned to their rightful owner.”

Cosmo closed his eyes at the thought. “Oh, God, has she met them?”

“We’ve all met them. I hear Aunt Tatiana’s taken quite a shine to Edgar.”

His eyes snapped open again. “No! She can’t keep him. I mean, I need him. Where’s his collar?”

“Relax,” Mickey said with a chuckle. “Man, you don’t miss a trick, do you? Iris has the rabbit and his collar back at her place.”

“Then, you found the alexandrite?” Despite the dangers he still faced, Cosmo couldn’t ignore the disappointment. He’d really wanted to pull this one off.

“How could we miss it? Now we just need you to explain why you’ve led us all on this merry chase.”

Cosmo smiled ruefully. “It’s been fun, hasn’t it?”

“Fun?” The silhouette shook its head. “You really are warped.”

A sound from the hallway made Mickey switch off the lamp. The two of them strained to hear if someone were still outside.

“Did you relock the door?” Mickey asked in a whisper.

“No. I figured I’d be in and out.” Cosmo took a step backward. At this hour, anyone coming through that door was likely to have a gun, and Mickey was his best bet at survival.

***

“Your mom’s alive?” Iris asked Cory. “Are you sure?” Hell, maybe Cory was just as screwy as Allie was.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Allie and I just talked to her this morning. So, you see, you’ve got other family, and I’ve got other family, but Allie’s got no one except Papa. She’s worried sick about him, and she’s reaching out to us just in case he doesn’t come back.”

Iris could appreciate that, but she was still wrestling with the idea that one of Cosmo’s three wives was still alive. “Why’d the report say she was dead?”

Cory looked away. “I don’t know.” She spoke so quietly, Iris had to strain to hear her over the casino din. “Papa told me she died fifteen years ago. Five years later, I saw her in a store.”

“What did you do?”

“I was so shocked, I didn’t do anything. I thought maybe I was crazy at first, seeing things, you know? Papa never mentioned her, and she never contacted me. Then I got it—she’d left us, and Papa thought it was kinder to tell me she was dead than that she didn’t want me.”

Iris winced at the pain buried in her sister’s matter-of-fact explanation. “What does your mom say?”

“Today was the first time I talked to her, and only because I hoped she’d know where Papa was. I wouldn’t believe anything she says now, anyway. That’s why I want Papa back. He must know what happened, and I want him to tell me why she left.”

Iris could well believe that. “He’s a real piece of work, isn’t he?”

Cory turned on her, still adamant in her defense of the man they called father. “You’re pissed at him for leaving. Just remember, no matter how often he left, he always came back.”

Iris silently acknowledged that she wanted Cosmo to come back. She wanted answers, and now she understood she wasn’t the only one who had questions. “I’ve been selfish.”

“Damn straight,” Cory said. Then she smiled. “But we understand. Just cut Allie some slack, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” Iris looked down the aisle and spied that long blond braid and the telltale black cargo capris and tank top. “Here she comes.”

“Wow, who’s the eye candy she’s got with her?”

With a groan, Iris recognized her cousin. “That’s Sergei, he’s—”

“She told me.” Cory stood up. “She sure knows how to attract men, doesn’t she?”

Allie’s eyes were bright with excitement as she approached. Sergei waved at them as he trailed her bouncy steps.

“Any signs of activity yet?” Allie looked back over her shoulder at the darkened interior of Lying Eyes.

“No,” Iris answered. “Where’d you pick him up?”

Sergei grinned. “Allie invited me to join her backstage for the show she works.”

That explained the spring in his step. A troupe of topless dancers would do that to a man.

He leaned forward as if to share a secret. “It has been a very eventful first day in America.”

“I’ll bet,” Iris said as Allie burst out laughing.

Cory shouldered forward. “Will someone introduce me, please?”

Sergei held out his hand. “With pleasure. Sergei Gorseyev.”

“Corazon Fortune. I’m Iris’s…” She trailed off and looked at Iris who rolled her eyes.

“Sergei’s not fooled. He knows Allie’s my half sister.” To Sergei, she added, “Cory’s my other half sister. And that’s another secret you get to keep.” With all the lies and secrets, she wondered if she’d ever be able to keep track of who knew what.

“Will my family ever get to learn how this came about, these half sisters?” Sergei’s pale eyes searched her face. He wasn’t invasive, just curious.

Iris smiled at her sisters, wanting for once to say the right thing. “We’re all looking for the real answer to that. For now, we just need to find our father.”

Sergei nodded. “How do we start?”

“We play slots.” Iris pulled some bills from her pocket and handed everyone a twenty. “And we wait.”

***

“Let’s hope it’s a security guard,” Cosmo whispered in the dark workroom. Thank God he’d stopped at the men’s room on the way here.

“I don’t think that’ll be much of an improvement for me today.” Mickey sounded decidedly unhappy with the situation.

The solid door opened with a brief rusty squeak.

“I told you I saw him come in here.” Cosmo recognized the voice but knew Jock didn’t waste that ingratiating tone on Pebbles.

The human steamroller filled the doorway, blocking any light from the hall. “Can I turn on the lights?”

“No.” The third voice came from behind the door. Apprehension rippled up Cosmo’s spine as he recognized Sam Turner. “Leave the lights off.”

Not that it mattered. Jock had already spotted him.

“Hiya, Cosmo. Pebbles and I heard you were pushin’ up daisies.” Jock’s gold tooth flashed in the light of the exit sign high on the wall.

Cosmo held his ground. It was an instinctual action, like maybe he could disappear into the scenery around him. But the workroom didn’t offer much in the way of hiding options. He stole a glance at the door to the sales floor.

Silhouetted by the few lights left burning behind him, Mickey made a classic target. He leaned as insolently against the doorframe as a silhouette could exude insolence. “Come on in, Turner.”

“Kincaid.” Turner pushed the door closed behind him. “Either you were mistaken about having killed Fortune, or you don’t have a good understanding of what death means.”

“I’m sure you’d like to teach me the error of my ways.”

“What, did I walk into a gangster movie?” Cosmo asked loudly. Mickey didn’t deserve to die, not for helping Iris.

“What do you want us to do, Mr. Turner?” Jock asked.

“Take Fortune out to the car. We have some unfinished business with him.”

Pebbles came forward, but Cosmo knew better than to allow the giant to lay a hand on him. He conjured up a deck of cards. “Sure, boys, I’ll walk out with you.” But when Pebbles reached for him, he sprayed the deck in the giant’s face. “Fifty-two pickup!” He made a dash for the front door while the cards were still fluttering to the floor.

Of course, this meant getting by Mickey, but he thought the kid would work with him once they had a diversion. Pebbles hunkered down to gather cards, and Jock swatted at the big guy’s shoulders. They had ample opportunity to run.

Was Mickey running? No, he’d drawn his gun. What, like he thought he was Humphrey Bogart? Didn’t he understand you didn’t draw a gun on Turner unless you expected to get—

BANG!

—shot? Cosmo careened past Mickey, bumping into him and knocking him off balance. Or maybe that hadn’t been him. Maybe—

“Cosmo, get out of here.”

“Did he get you?” Hell, now even he was talking like this was freakin’ Casablanca.

“Don’t worry about me. Get to Iris—take her to the police. You two need to be safe.”

Cosmo reached out to steady the younger man, only to feel the sticky warmth of blood.

Mickey was hunkered down, peering into the workroom. Though injured, he seemed steady and alert.

“Come on, Mickey boy, I’ll get you out of here.”

“No, I need to take Turner. Now, go!”

Cosmo hesitated. Now, there was a bad sign. He’d always known when to retreat. He’d made a career out of disappearing. And both those opportunities had come and gone—what was he still doing here?

“I can’t leave you.”

“Jesus, Cosmo, don’t be a hero. Get the hell out of here.”

A shot ricocheted off the doorframe near Mickey’s head.

Cosmo launched himself back into the workroom. Running as fast as his bow legs would carry him, he nearly tripped over Pebbles, who was still kneeling on the floor, covering his own head. Poor dolt—loved the look and feel of guns, but never liked the sounds they made.

“Come on, Pebbles.” Cosmo hefted the larger man. Their velocity and weight carried them forward until they knocked into Jock.

Yeah, Jock and Pebbles were expendable. Getting them out of here would help even Mickey’s odds. Cosmo judo chopped Jock across the shoulder. To his amazement, the cheesy move Allie had taught him worked, and Jock dropped his gun. One kick sent it skittering across the floor.

Cosmo didn’t waste time going after it. He dashed for the back door. “Jock, Pebbles, come on. Turner told us to wait in the car.” He ducked into the corridor, a hunted fox only a few steps ahead of the hounds.

Fortunately, the hounds were none too bright. But the long, straight, well-lit corridor would give them ample time to catch—or shoot—him. As the door behind him opened again, Cosmo made a dash for the casino.

Dragging breath into his burning lungs, he ran like a madman. At least Mickey had had a weapon. Cosmo had nothing but his wits. If he didn’t make it to his car first, he’d wind up dead.

Heavy footfalls thundered behind him. “Cosmo, stop!” Jock yelled.

Like hell! Cosmo smashed through the doors that opened from the service corridor into the carpeted hallway connecting the shops to public restrooms and an exit. It was tempting to head outside, but the fastest way to the parking garage was through the casino and lobby. Besides, he might just lose these guys in the crowd.

He turned and sprinted toward the main walkway through the casino, his path taking him past Iris’s storefront.

“Cosmo!” The woman’s shout made him falter. Turning to look, he spied Iris, shock splattered on her face.

“Can’t stop!” He hooked a thumb behind him and kept running.

Iris was a smart girl. She’d figure it out.

Chapter Eighteen

It had finally happened. Iris had flipped.

There was no way she was seeing Cosmo running through the Bellagio, his wild silver hair sticking up like some mad professor. He wore a light blue jumpsuit that looked like paint coveralls or maybe a janitor’s uniform. His feet pumped away in a pair of orange high-tops.

She was still dumbfounded by the image when she saw Jock and Pebbles barreling after him. “Oh my God, come on!” Without hesitation, she lunged in pursuit. She only hoped the others would follow.

People dove out of their path, the way already cleared for the most part by Pebbles’s bulk. What he lacked in speed, he more than made up in presence. Iris felt confident she could catch them. But then what?

Foote pulled abreast of her. “What’s going on?” He didn’t even have the grace to sound winded.

Iris pointed at the two men running ahead. “Those…are my…kidnappers.”

“Got it.” He picked up speed. “Halt! Police!”

Jock faltered as he looked over his shoulder. Realizing he was being chased, he took off with a burst of renewed energy, drawing ahead of Pebbles. The two of them veered off the main walkway between banks of slot machines.

Foote dashed after them.

Iris slowed, realizing she’d lost sight of Cosmo. Her sisters caught up to her.

“Where’s Papa?” Cory asked.

Iris shook her head while she dragged breath in to her lungs. If she tried to speak, she might throw up.

A commotion between two crowded craps tables made the others crane their necks, but Iris had gone cold with worry. Where was Mickey?

“Let’s check that,” Cory said.

“I’ve got to find Mickey.” Already, Iris was striding back toward her store. Out of breath or not, she broke into a run. She fumbled in her jeans pocket for her keys as she reached the front doors.

Hands grabbed her from behind.

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.”

Iris swallowed, glad she didn’t need to draw him a picture.

Allie blew out a breath. “What a night. Foote didn’t have any luck catching those two thugs?” She threw Cory a look as the two of them sat on the opposite sofa.

“What thugs?” Hunter asked.

“Jock and Pebbles were chasing Cosmo,” Iris answered. “Foote said they all got away.”

“Hey, it’s not like we didn’t try,” Cory said. “Cosmo went one way, those guys went another, so Foote and I split up. By the time I admitted I’d lost Cosmo, I went back to find Foote and discovered the poker room was trashed.”

“What happened?” Allie asked.

“Near as I can judge, that big moose guy tried to run through a poker game. He knocked over the table, and chips went flying everywhere. That became a brawl, and the two guys got away while Foote and security were stuck dealing with the aftermath.”

“That explains the other call I got about the Bellagio,” Hunter said on a sigh. He looked sideways at Iris. “Good news for you, though. Jock and Pebbles are now all over the Bellagio security tapes. They won’t set foot in there again for months.”

Somehow, that was small consolation.

“Once we catch Turner, you’ll be safe.”

Safe? Who cared whether or not she was safe? Mickey might have died, and her father was still missing. Right now, she’d risk anything to protect either of them from harm.

She looked across at her two sisters. They’d risked themselves to help her tonight. Hell, Allie had leaped into battle with Turner as if she were Lara Croft.

Iris had masterminded tonight’s plan, but it hadn’t gone well. No matter how much she loved Mickey, tonight had proven her right—she wasn’t cut out for this kind of life.

***

Iris paused in her fiftieth circuit of the surgical waiting room to look at her sisters. Cory and Allie were seated—well, slumped, really—on a striped loveseat. They’d both refused to leave, but they were exhausted.

So was she, but sleep eluded her. Until she knew—

Hunter came up behind her. “He’s in Recovery.”

She closed her eyes, giving thanks silently. Her shoulders dropped their tension, and she became conscious of how tired she really was.

“We should get them to go home.” Hunter tilted his head toward the two napping women.

“Think you can convince them now?”

“Sure. What about you?”

“I’m not leaving until I can see him.”

He granted her a tired nod. “I’ll see what I can do. It’ll be another hour before he’s alert enough to talk.”

“I can wait.” She looked out the windows at the horizon—purple mountains gilded with the rising sun’s brilliance.

Hunter woke first Allie then Cory. Iris hadn’t pegged him to take such care, nor did the shining smile Allie granted him escape her. Her little sister was gone over that guy, though what she saw in him Iris couldn’t guess.

The women came to hug her goodbye. They spoke in soft voices interjected with yawns. With a final wave, Cory and Allie walked down the hall toward the exit.

Hunter rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to get some coffee from the cafeteria. You want anything?”

Iris shook her head. After he left, she resumed her seat. Shifting uncomfortably, she reached into her back pocket and found Mickey’s phone. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to call when he was in real danger, but his parents deserved to know what was going on.

Self-consciously, she opened the phone and pressed buttons in search of the address book. Finding that, she scrolled down to a listing for Mom/Dad. With a deep breath, she hit the Send button.

“Hello?” Deirdre Kincaid sounded bright and chipper on this Tuesday morning.

“Mrs. Kincaid? This is Iris Fortune. Mickey’s…friend.”

“Well, now isn’t this a surprise.” Her delight was evident.

Iris closed her eyes, hating to ruin her morning. “I’m afraid Mickey’s in the hospital—he was shot last night.”

Deirdre made a choked sound, one Iris recognized as a barely concealed sob. “No, dear Lord.”

“He’s going to be all right,” Iris said in a rush.

Deirdre fell silent for a few moments. “Can I speak with him?”

“He just came out of surgery, but the doctors expect a full recovery.”

“Praise be,” Deirdre said between sniffles. “Was he on duty? I didn’t think the training there would be dangerous.”

Unsure what training the other woman referred to, Iris said, “He was out on a case last night.”

“Should we come out there?”

She didn’t know how to answer that. “Why don’t you wait and talk to him. I think he’ll be able to call you by tonight.”

“Good idea. He might not want family around. Always was a bad patient, even as a child.” Another sniff. “He’s convinced he’s indestructible, you know.”

Iris closed her lips against another sob. Regaining control, she said, “I can imagine.”

“Is he at Northwestern’s hospital? I should at least send some flowers or something.”

“Northwestern?” Iris wasn’t familiar with that hospital.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s any number of good hospitals in Chicago.”

Chicago? “Er, yes. Look, I hate to cut this short, but I’m sure the authorities will contact you soon with more complete information.”

“Oh, then you’re not with the department.”

“No. I just wanted you to know he’s…safe.” A tiny sob escaped before she could catch it.

Deirdre picked up on it. “My dear, I appreciate you calling and being there with him. You were frightened for him, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but I know he’ll be okay.”

“He will. If it helps at all, the fear never goes away, but it gets easier to handle with time.”

“Thanks,” Iris said. But time wouldn’t make things any easier for her. It wouldn’t change the fact that Mickey had lied to his mother—the woman had no idea what city he was in, much less that he was chasing a killer.

She’d asked him who he was, but God help her, she’d known from the first day she met him. He was a liar—just like her father. There was no future in that.

***

Cory yawned heavily into her hand as she and Allie strolled out the hospital’s sliding doors toward the parking lot. Poor Allie looked just as tired. They were both starting to stumble like zombies. She squinted at the early morning daylight and tried to remember where she’d parked.

“Iris had a rough night,” Allie said.

“Yeah.” Cory looked over at her. “You still angry with her about yesterday?”

“Are you kidding? She jumped on that guy and attacked him when he pulled me off balance. What more could you ask from a big sister but that she defend you?”

Cory still couldn’t handle how damn positive Allie was about everything. “Only you would find a silver lining in last night’s chaos.”

Allie grinned. “Oh, come on—tell me you won’t smile every time you remember Daddy running by us in that casino.”

A chuckle escaped her. “I didn’t know he could run so fast.” She stopped and scanned the parking lot. “Where did I leave the car?” The lot was nearly empty at this hour, and her Jeep shouldn’t be this hard to spot.

“Is that it?” Allie pointed to a car mostly hidden by a purple PT Cruiser.

“Yeah, there it is. Wow, someone likes driving a giant grape.” They climbed in and, as Cory cranked the engine, the Cruiser’s engine rumbled to life. Startled, Cory realized there was a big guy at the wheel of the other car.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just jumpy from lack of sleep.” Cory shifted into reverse, looked into the rearview mirror and choked out a scream when she saw a man’s face behind them. His gold tooth twinkled at her, and she recognized him as one of Papa’s pursuers.

She wondered why Allie was so silent, but when she dared a look, she saw the man had a gun pointed at her sister’s cheek.

“Follow the Cruiser,” he said.

Cory hesitated. “Allie?”

“Do as he says.”

***

Mickey lay in the hazy fog between anesthesia wearing off and pain kicking in. He wasn’t eager to regain consciousness, preferring to hold fast to that last memory of Iris appearing, bringing him help, holding him close and asking him not to leave.

Had she actually said she loved him, or had he just imagined that part?

Because he loved her. That much he knew—consciously, subconsciously, unconsciously… He closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness. Recovery rooms always sucked. Like right now he was still hallucinating. No way was Iris here, bending over him with that sad smile.

“Are you waking up this time?” she asked softly.

He opened his mouth, but only a hoarse croak came out. Her lips curved up. That alone improved his mood and energy. “Water.”

She conjured up a plastic cup and tilted a straw to his mouth.

He drank with the thirst of a camel, though he was exhausted after two swallows. He lost track of Iris. Hell, he probably lost track of time. The next thing he knew, he woke up again in a private room. Machines behind him beeped a steady rhythm. The anesthesia had worn off some because his cracked ribs ached and someone had lit a bonfire on his left shoulder.

When he turned his head, he found Iris dozing in a chair by his side. One curl had worked loose from her ponytail to dangle down her cheek. Her russet hair set off the pale innocence of her face as she slept. Had he ever seen her this relaxed?

He’d blown it last night. He had no idea what to tell her about her father—he wasn’t even sure Cosmo had escaped. As for Turner, he thought maybe he’d grazed him, but not enough to slow him down. Turner wouldn’t give up on trying to get those gems. And they still didn’t have the answers they needed from Cosmo.

He’d fallen in love with a woman, and he’d already failed her. Jesus, what was he supposed to say? He slid his gaze toward her again, only to discover she was appraising him with those brandy-colored eyes. A smile cracked his dry lips. It didn’t matter that he felt like a pile of shit—with her, he was a happy pile of shit.

The smile she returned was tinged with sadness. “The doctors say you’re going to be just fine. I’m glad.” She stiffly climbed to her feet. “I wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

His vision sharpened at her tone. “Goodbye?”

“I’ve thought about this a lot, so don’t think it’s a knee-jerk reaction to you—” She pointed to his shoulder as her words dropped off. With a quick cleansing breath, she continued, as if she were delivering a canned speech. “I appreciate everything you’ve risked for me and my family, but this…between you and I…it’s not going to work.” She turned away.

Any fog in Mickey’s brain cleared as her words induced panic. She wasn’t just leaving. She was leaving. “Wait, you love me, Iris. I heard you. You said you didn’t want to lose me—that you wouldn’t let me go.”

She paused, her back still to him. “I’m not letting you go. I’m walking away.” She braved facing him. “I can’t do this, Mickey.”

“Can’t do what?”

She gave a helpless shrug as she leaned back against the doorframe. It tore him up not to be able to wrap her in his arms. “I’ll never understand your job,” she said.

“Iris, I uphold the law.”

“It’s more than that. It’s how you uphold it. You go undercover. You live a life of secrets, of disappearing when you need to solve a crime.” She raked that stray curl behind her ear. “You live a lie for noble motives—I get that, but I can’t be a part of it. And yet, I can’t ask you to give it up—it’s who you are.”

“But if you love me—?”

She shook her head vehemently. “I grew up in that world—my dad off on his crazy ventures, never knowing where he’d gone, when he’d be back. I won’t do that with my adult life. I couldn’t face the day-to-day secrets—the questions, the fears, wondering whose life you might be saving at the risk of your own. Whether you were hiding the truth or lying to me, I’d become bitter, and that’s no future for us.”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Really?” Her brows shot up, and her tone implied she knew otherwise. “And does your mother know you’re pretending to be a jewel thief? Does your father even know you’re in Las Vegas?”

“That’s different—”

“Is it? If you can’t trust your parents with the truth, how could you ever trust me?”

He recalled that he’d asked her to call his parents. He looked her in the eye. “It’s my job.” That was one truth he knew.

She smiled sadly. “As it should be. But it doesn’t have to be my life. I’m sorry.” She bent and pressed her soft lips to his cheek. Teardrops mingled with her kiss. Without waiting for a reply, she covered her face with one hand as she turned and hurried blindly out the door.

Mickey pushed himself to sit upright, the sharp stab from his fractured ribs nothing compared to the tight pressure squeezing his chest until it hurt to breathe. To think. To exist. He’d found a woman worth loving, a woman who believed the best in him even when she thought the worst, but she couldn’t face the reality of his career.

He thought of the life Iris had planned for herself. A sensible husband, a stable career, a regular schedule. While he’d do almost anything for her, he couldn’t give up who he was. Being a cop was his life—it was all he’d ever wanted. And now he understood that while Brian’s death had been a tragedy, the real tragedy would have been if Brian had allowed Suze to talk him into quitting. Brian had lived his life doing what he loved, being as complete a person as he could be instead of the shadow his wife had tried to make him.

At least Iris wasn’t asking him to do that. She was brave enough to love him and let him go, and she was expecting him to do the same.

Maybe that was best for both of them, but that sure didn’t stop it from hurting like hell.

***

By the time Hunter dropped Iris off at her apartment building, she’d successfully pulled her emotions back within a fragile shell, grateful they were no longer zapping her like exposed wires. She hadn’t really expected Mickey to understand. Sure, he saw what he did as heroic—and it was—it was just she wasn’t prepared to be the selfless heroine and watch him taunt death everyday. To wait endless hours and wonder if she’d ever see him alive again—no, she couldn’t bear that. She shouldn’t have to. She didn’t want to.

But then, he hadn’t asked her to. He’d made no move to stop her when she walked out. A humbling reminder that she’d confessed her love for a man who’d only sworn to protect her and her family. Granted, he’d offered to risk his life for her, but now she knew he did that every day.

She exited the elevator to find Foote guarding her apartment door, crisp and alert.

“You must have gotten some sleep,” Iris said as she fitted the key in the lock.

“Nearly six hours.”

“Lucky you.” That was six hours more than she’d gotten.

“Do you want me to come in and go through the apartment?” he asked as she opened the door a crack.

Her shoulders slumped. “Must we? Seriously, after the night we all had last night, none of those men would be stupid enough to be lying in wait inside my apartment.” Letting herself in, she closed the door softly and leaned against it. Right now, solitude wasn’t only welcome, it was a necessity.

A shadow of movement made her breath catch. Apparently, one man was stupid enough to be lying in wait for her.

Cosmo stood in the middle of her living room.

Chapter Nineteen

“You son of a bitch.” Iris’s fists settled on her jean-clad hips.

He riffled a hand through his wild silver hair. “I guess I deserve that.” His pale face looked thinner, more haggard, and his eyes, normally bright like a child’s, had a haunted, exhausted haze to them. No flamboyant excuses, no grand gestures, his hands dropped to his sides as he stood and awaited—what?

Her judgment? Her forgiveness? Her acceptance?

“How dare you waltz in here after three days like nothing’s happened?” Remembering that Foote stood outside the door, she managed to keep her voice down. Barely.

“Well, of course stuff has happened. There’s been jewels stolen, and people shot, and—”

“I’m not talking about the alexandrite here, I’m talking about us.”

He blinked at her with wide eyes. “Are you angry with me?”

Oh, he was good. “Don’t try that innocent act on me. I passed angry on Saturday, and that was before I was kidnapped, thank you. Now, Mickey took a bullet for you—you’re lucky he’s not dead, or I might very well be patricidal about now.”

He locked on to the most positive news she’d given him. “Mickey’s all right then, is he? Good man, Mickey. Always knew he liked me.”

“He doesn’t like you, Cosmo. He’s a cop.”

Her father did a double take, but recovered quickly. “Well…of course he is. What, you thought I didn’t know that?” He licked his lips.

Iris vented an audible groan.

“Come help me coax Edgar out from under the bed. He acts like he doesn’t even know me anymore.”

She followed him into the bedroom. If nothing else, it made it less likely Foote would overhear them and burst in to see whether she was all right. In case she did decide to throttle her wayward father, she’d hate to be caught in the act.

Cosmo was on his hands and knees beside the bed. “Come on, Edgar, it’s me. Daddy.”

Watching him coax the rabbit out for a cuddle pissed her off. He hadn’t even offered to hug her. “Edgar’s probably seen through all your lies, and he’s done with you.”

Cosmo looked up at her, then rose with creaky knees. “I doubt if anyone really knows what I’ve been going through, so if you’ve got questions, why don’t you ask them?” He pushed a hand through his wild mop of hair again, sending it into further disarray.

This weekend—and before—had taken its toll on him. He was starting to get old.

Her hands dropped to her sides as she acknowledged he wasn’t the adversary. She didn’t want to fight him; she merely wanted answers. “Why, Cosmo?”

“Why did I steal the jewels?”

“Oh, I’ll get to that in a minute. But first, why did you have three families?”

He heaved a sigh. “It’s not that simple a question.”

“Then don’t lie to me with some simple answer.”

“I didn’t expect you to be bitter,” he said as if he couldn’t fathom it.

Iris barked out a laugh. “I’m not…bitter.” But at least part of her was. All her childhood, she’d been an inadequate daughter, and she wanted to know why. What had he wanted from her?

Cosmo sat on the bed. “I had the good luck—or maybe misfortune—to fall in love with three remarkable women. I traveled in Russia for a year doing my magic act with a local circus troupe, and I met your mother. She was smart, talented, beautiful. I learned she was carrying you before I returned home, so I brought her with me.”

“But you apparently already had two wives, so why marry a third?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to learn you’re going to be a parent. I wanted to do the right thing. Now, would it have been better if I hadn’t married her? Would you be prouder of me if I’d left my first wife—my childhood sweetheart who’d never been able to have a child—after I’d strayed? Would you think better of me if I’d left Russia without a word to Irina and abandoned you to being raised by her family?”

“At least then I would have had a family.”

“You do have a family. You’ve always had one. I’m sorry we all disappointed you. I never fit your image of what a father should be. Your mother was an artist—more involved with her design work than with you. I tried to surround you with good people, even if they were gamblers and performers. We loved you.”

She pictured his definition of good people—his poker-playing cronies, the couple with the trained housecat act, the Asian acrobat family, burly stagehands who taught her rope tricks, the costumer who’d allowed her to help sew sequins on leotards. They’d all lavished time on a little girl. And yet, as a teenager, she’d turned away from all of them.

“You can’t have a family unless you participate. You were always so withdrawn that I never knew what you wanted from me. I just knew I wasn’t doing it right.”

“Why couldn’t I be the most important thing in your world?” Her voice sounded small and childlike to her ear.

“Who says you aren’t?” Then he spoiled it. “But you’re asking me to live in only one world—my world as your father. I don’t know any man who can do that.”

“Come off it. You make it sound like all men have multiple families.”

“Most do. Oh, they might not have simultaneous marriages. I admit, I wouldn’t recommend that to the average man. But through divorce they have ex-wives, children, stepchildren, multiple in-laws. That’s before you add in their careers, or maybe they’re sports enthusiasts—you know ‘golf widow’ isn’t just a catchy term. It’s a real life for many women.”

Iris thought about David, how he could be lost for an hour if the conversation turned to golf. Or the nights he’d canceled dinner plans because he was still with a client. No, he didn’t have crazy schemes, but had she really held any more of his attention?

“I made sure I was always there for your big moments—your birthdays, the school play, that week when you had your wisdom teeth removed.”

Closing her eyes, she smiled. Cosmo had made her milkshakes. Sort of a catastrophe, setting him loose in a kitchen with ice cream, syrup and a blender.

“But you’ve always withheld yourself from me. I never knew what I was doing wrong. I just knew I was a screwup as a father as far as you were concerned. And lately, it’s felt like you didn’t even want me in your life.”

The hurt in his voice chafed her. All these years she’d accused Cosmo of being so selfish, had she been just as self-centered? Had her expectations been too high? In the end, had he harmed her or her mother with his multiple families?

“You’re my firstborn child, and you’ve made me so proud. I wish I could be that father you want, but after this many years, I think we’ll have to agree that’s hopeless.” He stood and smoothed his hands down his coveralls before he looked at her again. “If you could just love me…a little…as I am…”

A sob welled up within her, and she quit trying to rationalize anything except that he was here. She rushed to his open arms, nearly toppling him with her velocity, but he caught her just as he always had.

“There, there, Rissie. I’m here, and I love you. I never lied about that.”

“I do love you, Dad.” So what if he wasn’t a storybook dad, he was her dad. She loved him despite the flaws and foibles. Deep within, her bitterness started to melt as she surrendered her fairy-tale images of the ideal family. Maybe if she quit expecting her father to live up to some level of perfection, she could quit expecting it of herself, too.

She’d planned a future with David because he wanted a time commitment from her more than an emotional one. It had been so businesslike, practical, dull. And believing she’d never been able to hold her father’s love, she’d pushed Mickey away rather than risk losing him.

But Mickey had invaded her senses from the first time he’d touched that loose hairpin. He’d goaded her emotions, engaged her intellect. She’d done more living with him in those brief hours she’d spent with him than in all the months she’d spent with David.

Maybe life wasn’t the interminable ticking of the clock from day to day, but the fleeting magical moments that built memories.

Drawing back, she was able to look her father square in the face and saw a sheen of tears in his eyes that matched hers. “Leave me like that again, and I’ll kill you.”

He chuckled. “Once I wrap this up, I’ll never disappear again.”

***

Hunter had hoped to get some sleep, but the information he read on a previous day’s murder victim made him return to the hospital. Mickey was never going to believe this break.

He tucked his head into his partner’s room. Mickey lay in bed, propped against some pillows. The television suspended high on the wall played some news channel, but instead of watching it, he was staring at the ceiling.

“Counting your blessings?” Hunter asked as he came in.

Mickey rolled his head to the side to contemplate him. “Iris get home safely?”

“Yeah. Foote’s watching her place. She’s fine. After last night’s escapades, I hope she gets some sleep. You, too.” He stood over the bed and looked at the various monitors. Mickey had more wires coming out of him than a switchboard, but at least his face had lost that ashen gray color. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know. Turner doesn’t usually miss.”

“Yeah, lucky.” He turned back to stare, unseeing, at the television.

“Wow, is that the anesthesia talking—” Hunter pulled up a chair, sat and stretched his tired, swollen feet and no doubt filthy shoes onto the neatly pleated white linens, “—or have you given up again? Because I thought you wanted back in the game, that’s why you said you came out here.” He watched his partner, not happy with that listlessness around the younger man’s eyes.

“Get me out of here, and I’ll finish the job, okay?”

“You don’t go anywhere for at least twenty-four hours,” he answered emphatically. Easing up, he added, “Besides, I bring good news. Your friend Donovan gave me an excuse to show up on his doorstep.”

This caught Mickey’s attention. “What happened?”

“A journalist for the Las Vegas Sun didn’t show up for work yesterday. Today, he turned up dead. Single gunshot. Time of death, Sunday night.”

Mickey’s brow furrowed. “How’d you tie any of that to Donovan?”

“Seems the business editor at the paper got a call from this journalist Sunday evening. He wanted his editor to pull a story he’d written on Robert Donovan. Said he hadn’t been able to verify all his facts, and he feared he might be putting the paper at risk.”

“Now there’s a coincidence.”

“Exactly. I had the editor email me the story. It’s all about Donovan signing a major deal to buy property in Moscow with plans to double the size of his casino there, with the expectation that the Russian government will allow him to restart his gambling operations. Except Donovan hasn’t signed the deal yet. It appears to be on hold for at least a couple of days.”

Their gazes locked and held.

“Gives you a possible connection to the dead real estate broker and translator.” Mickey gave a half-hearted smile. “Wish I could go hunting with you.”

“Don’t worry.” Hunter wiggled his toes inside his shoes one last time, then pulled his legs down and stood. “Even if I nail Donovan, we still have to track down Turner.”

“Do you think he poses any immediate threat to Iris?”

“Your friend Sergei stuck a knife in his arm. I think he’ll lie low at least until dark.”

Mickey nodded slowly as if he were still distracted. “Did you have to arrest Sergei?”

“I was spared that,” Hunter said. “He pulled diplomatic immunity. Did you know he had a Russian government passport?”

Mickey blinked at that piece of news.

“Yeah, the various branches of Cosmo’s families are full of surprises.” Awkwardly, he patted his partner’s bare arm. “Get some rest. There will still be plenty for you to do to wrap this up when you get out of here. Then, you and Iris are home free.”

“Not exactly home. Not free, either.”

Hunter stopped in the doorway. “Sorry to hear that. Did you call it, or did she?”

“She did.”

Hunter nodded, then left without a word. There wasn’t anything you could say to a guy to ease that kind of heartache. He and Mickey hadn’t known each other that long—only a few months, really. He liked the guy, and he liked Iris, too. What he knew of her.

For a moment he was tempted to call Allie, but he pitched that notion in less than a heartbeat. Nothing good ever came from messing around with other people’s personal lives.

***

Iris escorted Cosmo and his rabbit out of her bedroom so she could shower and change.

“Don’t you want to hear about the gems?” her father asked.

“Shower first. I want to enjoy five minutes of feeling charitable toward you before you piss me off again.”

Cosmo nodded, accepting that as a standard emotional bond between them. “Did you, er, meet your Aunt Tatiana?”

Recalling the previous day’s adventures, Iris smiled. “Yeah, she’s pretty cool. Not many women her age would go out in public in a swimsuit.”

“Swimsuit?” He shuddered. “Well, whatever she told you about the gems, remember, she doesn’t know the whole story.”

“No one knows the whole story, so I’m eager to hear it.” No doubt her father would have his own spin to put on it. “Just let me hop in the shower.”

It took her less than ten minutes to shower and put on a clean pair of Bermuda shorts in a Madras plaid, a melon-colored camp shirt and a pair of low-heeled sandals. She didn’t bother with makeup. Frankly, she was hoping she’d get in a lengthy nap this afternoon.

Stopping for a moment, she tilted her head to listen. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet. Hastily, she drew her damp curls into a ponytail. Surely, Cosmo couldn’t have left—not with Foote right outside. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Just in case, she crept out to the living room.

Cosmo sat quietly on the sofa with Edgar beside him. Honestly, the two of them looked like they were waiting for a bus.

“If that rabbit pees on my furniture, you’re going to have to clean it up,” Iris said.

“Somehow, I think that’s the least of your worries.” The cultured male voice chilled her like a cold draft blowing across the room.

Iris spun to see Turner standing just inside the front door. He looked like an average guy in her sunlit apartment—fortyish, tall, lean, thinning dark hair. The danger lay in his hooded eyes and the curling smile that held as much friendliness as a taunted badger. He wore a polo shirt of blood red—Iris felt her stomach churn at the sight of the large bandage circling his upper arm where Sergei’s knife had pierced him—and dark trousers. Crumpled at his feet lay Officer Foote.

She rushed forward to kneel by the young policeman, regardless of any danger to herself. No wound marred him, not even a bruise anywhere on his head. “What did you do to him?” she said, looking up at Turner.

“Relax, I nailed him with a hypodermic. He never even saw it coming. It’s just an anesthetic. He should sleep for a couple hours.”

“You didn’t kill him?” she asked hopefully.

“I’m not some psychopath, Miss Fortune. I don’t kill people for fun. It’s a job, and I have very specific targets.” He looked from her to her father meaningfully.

Oh God. She and her father were about to be murdered, and the only witness would be an overfed rabbit. Iris steeled herself against the panic that tried to envelop her.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Cosmo said. “I think I still have something Donovan wants.”

Turner gripped Iris’s upper arm and yanked her to her feet. “I’m betting on that.” He locked his hand around her throat like a manacle, the pressure enough to make her gasp for breath. In case that didn’t frighten her enough, he brought the gun up to her temple. “Where are the real stones, Cosmo? Tell me, or I’ll kill her right here, right now.”

Her father watched her face carefully. He looked so calm, as if he’d faced death a thousand times. “Don’t do anything rash. I gave the stones to Iris, so if you kill her, we may never find them.”

Turner’s grip eased slightly. His face came into view, his dark eyes glittering like a cobra. “Where are they?”

She summoned up all her bravado. “What, like you’re going to spare us if I tell you?”

That grip tightened again, and Iris feared her eyes might bug out of her head. “I can make your death painless and quick, or I can drag it out for hours. Do you really want me to slice your father up so you can watch him slowly bleed to death?”

Bile rose in her throat, but his grip was too tight to allow anything to pass. She clawed at his hand until he eased off enough for her to draw a shallow breath. “They’re on Edgar’s collar,” she managed to croak.

Cosmo hopped up from his seat. “Iris! How did you—?”

She’d surprised him, or maybe he hadn’t wanted her to tell, but it was too late for that. At least Turner’s grip had slackened. “I found where you stashed the alexandrite in my gem drawer with the simulated corundum. I thought I’d be clever and put the stones on Edgar’s collar for safekeeping. I mean, who would think to look there?”

“Who indeed?” If anything, this information made her father more nervous. Beads of perspiration dotted his forehead, and he stroked his goatee. Clearly, he didn’t want Tatiana’s synthetic alexandrite going to Donovan.

“Is she telling the truth, old man?”

“Well, yes, if she says so.” Cosmo swiped his brow. “I haven’t seen the real gems in days.” He threw her a look.

Iris had no idea what that look meant.

Turner didn’t trust it. “No guarantees, huh? Not that I expected any from you.”

Cosmo gathered Edgar into his arms. “Tell you what, Turner, let her go. Take me and the rabbit.”

“No. I’ll tell you what, Fortune. I’ll take you, your daughter and that collar. We’ll test those stones, and if they’re the genuine article, then we’re all squared away.”

“You’ll let her go?” Cosmo asked, clearly suspicious.

“No, but I’ll let your other two daughters go.”

Iris stiffened. Twisting to see his face, she came nose to nose again with that gun barrel.

“My other two daughters?” Cosmo’s voice had grown weak.

This only strengthened her resolve. “You bastard, if you hurt them—”

Turner tugged her close, the chill of the metal gun pressed against the pulse in her throat. “Relax, princess. Jock and Pebbles have them safe and sound. Do everything we say, and they won’t need to die.”

Grimly, she nodded.

He turned to her father. “Now, bring the rabbit. Let’s go.” Turner’s voice reverberated in her ear as he continued to hold her close. “And don’t try anything funny.”

“Me?” Cosmo blinked innocently. Too innocently. She knew that look.

Adrenaline rushed as she considered he might have a plan. He’d escaped Mickey and those two thugs more than once.

Turner marched them through her building’s lobby. Hidden beneath her blouse, his gun pressed against the small of her back. It was laughably easy for him to abduct them. Iris thought about putting up a struggle, but Turner’s granite expression didn’t encourage her to think she would survive the attempt. Cosmo followed with Edgar, subdued by her danger.

A black town car awaited them at the end of the driveway. “Get in,” Turner ordered.

Iris ducked her head and found Robert Donovan sitting inside. He slid over to make room for her and her father. With a last look around for any miraculous rescue, she climbed in. Behind her, Turner stowed his gun in his waistband and grabbed Cosmo’s arm.

Leaning into the car, Turner said to his boss, “The jewels are on the rabbit’s collar.”

Donovan looked sideways at Iris. “Clever.”

Outside there was a flurry of activity. Cosmo stuffed Edgar into Turner’s arms. Caught by surprise, the hit man juggled the rabbit while Edgar kicked and pawed at him. Meanwhile, Cosmo took off back up the sidewalk.

“Cosmo, come back here!” Turner yelled.

“Gotta run!” Cosmo’s reply floated back to her.

Edgar managed to squirm loose from his captor and slipped to the ground. Turner reached for his gun, his eyes trained on where Cosmo had disappeared around the corner of the building. Iris lunged toward him, but Donovan’s hand snaked out to grab her arm.

“No, you fool!” he ordered Turner. “Get that rabbit. We can’t let those gems get away.”

Turner dropped to the ground to search under the car. Terror clogged Iris’s throat as she waited for the single gunshot that would signal the end of Edgar’s life.

“Come on, Edgar,” she whispered, praying for the rabbit’s escape.

As if she’d called him, Edgar suddenly appeared near Turner’s feet. In three jumps, he hopped across the man’s back and into the town car to land on her lap. She clutched him tightly, tears stinging her eyes.

Turner rose up on his hands and knees, his angry gaze boring into her as he rubbed grit from his chin with the back of his hand.

Donovan chuckled. “A well-trained rabbit, though he’s only prolonged the inevitable.” He turned to watch Turner stand and wipe off his clothes. “Find Cosmo and take care of him. And be sure Kincaid’s out of the picture.”

“What about the woman?”

“I’ll hold on to her until you get back.”

Turner’s glittering eyes made her an unwanted promise to see her later. He turned to Donovan. “I’ll look in on Jock and Pebbles, too.”

“Good idea.”

Turner closed the door and strode off in Cosmo’s wake.

As the town car pulled away, Iris twisted to stare out the back window, saying a final farewell to her father. She was grateful she’d been given that last conversation with him, a chance to understand him a bit better. He said he’d always be there for her when she needed him, but she prayed he would stay far away this time. Cory and Allie needed his help now.

She pulled Edgar close, foolishly feeling sorry the poor rabbit had gotten caught up in this whole mess. She never doubted her own death. Once Donovan discovered these gems were merely synthetic copies of the historic alexandrite they sought, she’d be nothing but a very big liability.

***

Marko and Viktor sat in companionable silence at the suite’s dining table enjoying coffee and pastries. Marko strained an ear for his aunt. She should be awake by midmorning.

Viktor sensed his unrest and followed the tilt of his head. “Sergei surrendered to pressure. He’s giving her a backrub.”

Enlightened, Marko returned to his coffee. “What would you like to do today?”

His brother shrugged.

Sadly, Marko had to agree. For all the—as the Americans said—hype, he’d found Las Vegas to be nothing more than any other large city with lots of business conducted, lots of tourists visiting, and lots of traffic. Granted, there were fine restaurants and unparalleled entertainers all on this Strip.

Still, it all left him a little flat. Somehow, he’d expected more. “Perhaps we should all see a show tonight.”

Viktor raised beleaguered eyes, as if the thought of finding a show their aunt and they could equally enjoy was too difficult a task to undertake.

“Maybe the pool today. Do you think it will be too hot for her?” Marko sipped his coffee.

His brother took a bite from his danish. Setting it down, he brushed powdered sugar from his upper lip as he chewed. “Rent her a cabana.”

An excellent suggestion, but the telephone rang before he could tell Viktor so. Heaving himself up from the table, Marko answered the phone on the desk.

“Marko?” The voice on the other end was nearly breathless in its rush to speak.

Cosmo. “Such a surprise to hear from you. You never answer your phone.”

“Marko, listen to me. I need your help.”

The stress in Cosmo’s voice caught Marko by surprise. “I’m listening.”

“I’m in some trouble, rather big trouble. Someone has kidnapped my daughters.”

“Iris?”

“Iris…and my other two daughters.”

Marko blinked. Waving to Viktor, he motioned for him to pick up the telephone extension.

“I can’t explain it all. I’m going to try and get Iris now. But the other girls are being held in the downtown district. I need you to get them free.”

Marko drew a breath. “This is a large order to ask when you have lied and cheated us. Why should we risk ourselves to help you?”

“Please. They’re Iris’s half sisters, and if I screw this up, they’re going to be killed.”

Across the living room, Viktor stood and laid his phone back in the cradle with a nod. He strode to Tatiana’s bedroom and knocked on the door.

“Very well,” Marko said into the phone. If his brother agreed this was worth doing, he would do it. “I’ll need whatever details you have.” Quickly, he gathered a pen and transcribed the address and instructions Cosmo dictated. “Are you sure about all of this?”

“No, so be careful. And if they’re not there, call me right away.”

“Of course. Will you be working alone?”

“I’m taking Mickey with me.”

“Good.” He had long since abandoned the dramatic flair of working alone, but one could never tell with Cosmo. And Mickey struck him as a worthy ally. “Beregi zdorovie.”

“You take care yourself,” Cosmo said gruffly. “And Marko, thank you.”

Marko hung up the phone and tore off the sheet of paper containing his scribbled notes. Already, adrenaline was coursing through him, rejuvenating his limbs and making him stand taller. When he turned, he found Viktor had routed Sergei and Aunt Tatiana from the adjoining room. The three of them waited expectantly.

“What is it we must do?” Tatiana asked from her wheelchair.

“Viktor and I must run an errand for Cosmo. Sergei will stay here with you.” With a heavy frown at his nephew, he made it clear this was a command.

Tatiana beat the floor once with the tip of her cane. “The hell you say.”

Not that he’d expected her to accept being left behind willingly. “Aunt Tatiana, we must work fast, and it could be very dangerous.”

She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with a clarity he hadn’t seen in months, maybe years. Already, color was blooming in her cheeks at the very thought of an adventure. “Finally, we are to have some fun here, yes?”

Marko had to admire her grit. Gaining a silent nod of assent from Viktor, he surrendered the notion of leaving her behind—she’d only make his life hell afterward. In fact, now that he thought of it, she might prove very useful.

Chapter Twenty

Mickey lay in the white room covered with white sheets. He’d long since turned off the television, preferring to let the various beeps and whirs of the monitors fill the silence.

He still felt oddly numb, and while he wished he could blame it on residual anesthetic, he didn’t think that was likely. She was gone, and with her, he’d lost sensation. The bleakness had returned, worse this time.

Just his luck that he’d chosen a woman whose history made it impossible for her to accept his profession. Still, he gave her credit—she hadn’t asked him to give it up. Instead she’d blamed her own shortcomings, and she’d walked away.

Mickey didn’t believe Iris had any shortcomings.

If he could have stood up—hell, if he could have thought properly, he never would have let her walk away.

He still wanted her.

He raised his chin to stare at the white ceiling. So, where did that leave him? Lying here, thinking of Iris, thinking that winning her meant giving up the very core of who he was.

Had Suze understood that about Brian?

A sound at the door made him close his eyes. God help him, if another nurse tried to take his temperature or make him swallow another pill, he was going to squeeze that IV bag until his veins burst and put himself out of his misery.

“You’re making this all too easy, Kincaid.”

Mickey’s eyes opened at the sound of Turner’s condescending voice.

Turner stood over the bed like an angel of death. “Once again, you failed to kill your target. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Like a strobe effect, one second Mickey was staring into Turner’s cobra eyes, and the next he was fighting off a choking grip on his throat. Frantically, his brain sought options while his hands came up to fend off the attack. He’d lost track of the call button, Hunter had left the building, and—dammit!—he couldn’t drag enough air into his aching lungs to yell for help. He couldn’t even grunt.

He was going to be murdered if he didn’t pull it together.

From the corner of his flagging vision, he thought he spied a nurse enter the room. Only she didn’t seem to think anything odd about the man murdering him. She saw the death-fight happening at his bed, but instead of screaming for help, she calmly walked forward, her shoes barely squeaking on the linoleum.

And then she beaned Turner on the head with some piece of metal that knocked him completely senseless. As Turner’s body slumped across Mickey’s chest, the nurse—her odd long metal weapon in her hand—winked at him.

What the hell? He reached for his call button.

“Don’t.” The nurse shook her head, a serious look in her eyes. She checked Turner to be sure he was really out cold, then laid her weapon on the bedside table.

From her heavy jowls, she was old enough to be his mother. Mickey tried to be generous, but even on those terms she was frumpy. Beneath her lab coat, her boobs swayed heavily as she moved to his bedside. She wore too much makeup. Who told her the false eyelashes and blue eye shadow or that garish red lipstick—

Crap.

“Cosmo?” Mickey whispered.

“Shhh.”

“What are you doing here?” He swallowed. “Besides saving my life?”

“Busting you out.”

“Oh.” The answer was so matter-of-fact, Mickey wondered if the shyster had been drinking. Not even Cosmo was crazy enough to breeze in here in drag, knock out a killer and try to kidnap him from his recovery bed. The magician looked rather tired, but the lipstick and rouge lit up his face like neon. And then Mickey realized what was so different.

“You shaved off your beard.”

“I had to. I’ve got to save Iris.” Cosmo silenced any rebuttal with a raised finger to his lips. He dragged the chair over and pulled Turner’s prone form into it, then searched their nemesis. From a pant pocket Cosmo withdrew a capped syringe. “Good ol’ Turner. Always carries a spare.” The trickster pocketed the syringe in his lab coat.

“What is that?”

“Sedative. Turner keeps it on hand for people he needs out of the way but not out of the way.” He turned up a gun equipped with a silencer, which he tossed on the bed. “You may need this.”

“For what?”

“Catching Donovan.”

Mickey chuckled. That only made him cough, which hurt—a lot. “No one told me my ribs were going to stab me every time I breathe,” he muttered.

“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.”

“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.”

“Sorry.” She should be grateful he’d taken their gags off. Instead, she’d spent the past hour whining about how much coffee she drank last night.

The blonde turned her huge brown eyes his way. “Could you close the blinds some? That sunlight is giving me a headache. Please?”

Jock wasn’t impervious to her plea. She treated him with proper respect. He walked over and lowered the blind on the window.

“Allie, ask him if we can go to the bathroom,” the brunette said.

“Didn’t you go at the hospital?”

“I thought I was going straight home.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm as her eyes followed him.

Jock stalked past them. “Shut up, or I’ll put your gags back on.”

“Could you at least turn that television off? Those stupid shows are making me crazy.”

“Get over it. It’s only another hour or so anyway.” He left the bedroom but pushed the door open so he could monitor them.

“Well, now, isn’t he just Prince Charming?” The brunette’s acid tone carried to him.

The other woman was much more philosophic. “It’ll all be over soon.”

“Yeah, but how’s it going to end?”

“It’s going to be all right. I just have one of those feelings.”

Jock swigged down some more beer. Yeah, all over soon. He couldn’t wait to release these women, collect his cash and then he and Pebbles were leaving town. Yep, he was tired of being a small fish in a big pond. Time to move someplace where they could get the respect they deserved. They already had the car packed for the trip to Reno.

Everything better go as planned. Cosmo had to hand over those gems this time, or there’d be hell to pay. Nervously, he played his tongue across his upper teeth. If Cosmo screwed this up, Jock and Pebbles were supposed to kill these women. Not that he’d told Pebbles that. You could never tell when Pebbles would get a bug up his butt about something.

But…killing people. Jock blew out a breath as that reality sank in. He’d never done that. Hadn’t ever seriously thought about it. He knew other people did it. He didn’t mind running into a dead body, but to actually pull the trigger? And those two women, fresh, young, pretty… Well, the blonde, anyway. If he had to kill them, he’d kill that bitchy brunette first.

Still, it would be better all around if Cosmo coughed up the gems. He’d like to start his new life in Reno without having to dispose of a body. Hell, they’d have to unload the car, and—

A knock at the door interrupted him. Swigging down some more beer, he glanced at Pebbles. The giant was totally engrossed in his television show, probably hadn’t even registered the knock.

Jock set the beer down and approached the door cautiously. The Boss had said he’d call, so who would be at the door? Mickey was in the hospital. Turner was dealing with the other daughter. Cosmo wouldn’t waste his time coming here before delivering the gems, and after delivering them—well, to be honest, the Boss wasn’t going to let the old guy live. Even Cosmo had to know that.

He peered through the apartment’s peephole. At first he didn’t see anything, then he noticed a head of gray hair down near the bottom of his line of vision. A sour wrinkled face tilted up to look at the door.

With a curse, Jock pulled open the door to contemplate the skinny old lady in her wheelchair. “What the hell do you want, Granny?”

Like a striking cobra, she swung her cane at his head. That sour face of hers turned even meaner.

Surprised, Jock still managed to catch the end of the cane with both hands before it inflicted any damage.

She tugged the cane, pulling him slightly off balance. She didn’t have that much strength, was she crazy?

“You’re starting to piss me off.” He gave a good tug on the cane, hoping to pull her out of the chair. But she released her hold and, with his momentum, Jock stumbled backwards and fell on his ass.

He felt more than saw a shadow hop across him, and from the living room, Pebbles’s laughter was cut short. Jock hurriedly sat up, only to find two older men standing just inside his door. They both pointed guns at him. A quick glance over his shoulder showed a third, younger man had Pebbles covered.

Looking back to the doorway, Jock noticed the old lady had climbed out of her chair. She stepped forward and wagged a finger at him. “You’ve pissed me off, too.” She leaned down and pulled his gun from his waistband, only to point it at his privates with a steady hand. “And I’m not your Granny.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Donovan watched the young woman and her rabbit by the pool. It annoyed him that after all the trouble she and her father had caused, Iris Fortune stood out there sipping iced tea as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

Did she think he wasn’t serious? She’d learn the truth.

And why the hell hadn’t he heard anything from Turner?

“Your sisters are in luck. The jeweler confirms these are true alexandrite.”

She shaded her eyes from the bright sun to look his way. “I told you they would be.”

“Your father seemed less sure. Why?” This troubled him. He didn’t like feeling troubled.

“Have you released my sisters?”

Donovan contemplated her. She wanted to negotiate. How trite. “No, but let me call now.” He pressed a button on his cell phone and waited. The call connected to his voice mail, but he pretended otherwise. “Jock? Free those two girls. I don’t care how you manage it, just do it.”

He clicked the phone shut. “Satisfied?”

Her return smile was tempered. “Just like that?”

“What, you don’t trust me?” he countered.

She snorted. “Forgive me, but do you think that’s likely under the circumstances?”

He was starting to hate that she wasn’t unnerved by this situation. It was almost as if she knew something. “If you think your father’s going to mount some sort of rescue attempt for you, forget it. You should know by now that Cosmo Fortune doesn’t think of anyone but himself.”

Even this didn’t seem to pierce her self-confidence. Maybe he should have resorted to tying her up, frightening her. But what could she possibly know?

“Actually, I think Cosmo’s gone to rescue my sisters, and that’s as it should be.”

“Martyring yourself now?” Selfless gestures were such a waste.

“If I must. So, your jeweler confirmed the alexandrite with a refractometer?”

“Yes, said the density and refractive index were perfect. He was quite impressed with the specimens, said they were very valuable. Of course, he knows nothing of their historical significance.”

“Neither do you.” Fanning herself, Iris returned to the chair beneath the patio table’s umbrella.

Donovan flexed his hands to release the tension agitated by her smug attitude. “Explain yourself.”

“Did he study the inclusions at all? Under magnification?”

He scowled at this new ploy. What was she driving at? “Why would that be necessary? They’re top-quality gems. They’re cut to the size and shape Cosmo described to me. They must be the Romanov alexandrite.”

“You’d think, wouldn’t you? It’s just that my father’s known for fooling people. He’s even fooled me once or twice.”

Of course, she was grasping at straws, trying to give him a reason to keep her alive. Being a jeweler, she wanted him to think she knew more than she did about those stones.

Through slitted eyes, Donovan watched as Iris petted that fat rabbit.

Cosmo had already led him on quite a chase for these gems and put him days behind schedule. That two-bit magician didn’t have any more tricks up his sleeve.

Did he?

“Watch her!” With a curse, Donovan returned inside to call the jeweler and ask about inclusions.

***

Mickey reminded himself never to let Cosmo drive again. At least deathly fear had wiped the last traces of anesthesia from his body. Even the nausea had abated by the time they pulled up to a gatehouse guarding an exclusive golf community.

“Are you sure he brought her here?” Mickey asked as they waited behind another car.

“Too sure of himself not to. Besides, his housekeeper called me. She’s an old—er, friend.”

Why didn’t this surprise him? “Isn’t Donovan afraid the neighbors will see something?”

Cosmo threw him a sidelong glance. “Are you kidding? His villa has six bedrooms, sits on three acres and backs up against the seventh hole of the course, which is a par four. He keeps five trained Dobermans to guard the place, so don’t wander out into the yard. Now, keep quiet while I talk our way in here.” Cosmo checked his lipstick in the rearview mirror.

Five minutes later, Mickey hauled himself out of the red Trans Am, relying mostly on his right arm. He was still marveling at Cosmo’s ability to bullshit his way past that guard at the gatehouse. He was beginning to develop a healthy respect for the magician’s sheer nerve. He suspected Iris had inherited more of that than she gave herself credit for.

“Have you been here before?” he asked as they climbed the steps to the front door. He moved more slowly than normal, willing the pain away with silent curses.

Cosmo looked back over his shoulder. “Oh, a few times. Back when Donovan was feeling charitable toward me. Before I knew he’d ordered anyone killed.”

“Why’d you go after him?”

“I didn’t. I was after the Romanov gems. I just didn’t have my own ten million to buy them.”

Make that a healthy respect for his balls. Cheat Donovan by giving him the highest quality copies of the Romanov gems, but keep the originals for himself. He wondered if Cosmo had had any idea what he was getting into.

Cosmo rang the bell. When the housekeeper answered, her brown eyes widened at his getup, but she recovered quickly and kissed the magician’s cheek. Old friend, my ass, Mickey thought. Cosmo spoke fluent Spanish to her. Mickey didn’t speak much Spanish, but he spoke eyes, and even though Cosmo was still sporting his drag makeup—though he’d finally ditched the wig, thank God—the middle-aged housekeeper was definitely making eyes.

“Betina, this is my son, Michael,” Cosmo said in English. He pointed at Mickey. “Hijo.”

She eyed them both with reservation but finally allowed them into a soaring entryway and ushered them to a dim living room. Here she said something to Cosmo and left them.

“What did you tell her?” Mickey tiptoed back to the entryway to see if he could hear anyone else in the house.

“That I’m here to see Donovan, and you drove me because my car’s been impounded.”

“What if Donovan knows you don’t have a son?”

Cosmo fisted his hands on his hips. “You know, up until a few days ago, no one seemed to know I had three daughters. Can’t I conjure up a son if I want one?”

Mickey spread his fingers in the air in silent surrender. “I just want to make it out of here alive.”

“We only have to keep him occupied until Hunter shows up to arrest him, right?” Cosmo pointed to the patio doors. “Iris is outside. Let’s go see how she is, but keep it low key.”

Mickey’s heart rate increased at the sight of her. She was unharmed. In fact, she had Edgar on her lap, and she looked to be enjoying a warm afternoon by the pool.

He followed the magician out to the patio but balked when he spied two burly Polynesian males in suits. Great. They looked about as friendly as orangutans—make that constipated orangutans. He ran his hand along the waistband of his trousers, checking his bandages and making sure Turner’s gun remained hidden.

Cosmo went out into the sunlight, ignoring the bruisers as he went to Iris. Mickey couldn’t help notice the way her face lit up at the sight of her father. It hit him broadside—her bright smile conveyed sunshine and happiness and complete confidence. She had faith in her father.

“You came for me,” she said to him.

Cosmo stopped to stare at her. “Of course I did.”

Iris laughed as she went to hug him. “You know, for once I believed in you—and you came through.”

“Aren’t you going to ask why I’m wearing makeup?”

“No. I’m sure you have a good reason.” She tried to smooth his wild silver hair, but that appeared to be a lost cause. Instead she touched his jaw, which now lacked the trademark goatee. “Were you able to save Cory and Allie?”

“I sent help to them.”

She nodded, accepting his assurance. “What do we do now?”

“We bide our time. I promise you, more help is coming here, too.”

Uh oh. Beyond Iris and her father, the guards were talking to each other. Spying a line of potted shrubs along the fence, Mickey pulled his cap lower to hide his eyes and went to inspect the…soil. He dug a thumb downward.

“Who are you,” said a heavy male voice behind him.

Mickey drilled his thumb into the soil again. Without looking up, he said, “Plant care. Semiannual soil testing.”

“You leave now.”

Mickey snorted. Oh yeah, that tricky Mickey persona was coming back to him fast. “I wish. No, I gotta check all these plants.”

“Not today.” This time the guy laid a beefy paw on his shoulder. What he wouldn’t give to sic Pebbles on this guy about now. “Come back another time.”

Mickey put his hands in the air. “Fine, I’ll leave. But there’s no rescheduling. We’re booked. I won’t be back for six months, and these plants—” he waved a hand down the line of potted shrubs, trees, plants, whatever the hell they were, “—could all be dead by then. But hey, it’s your million, right?” He wiped his hands together to dust all the soil from his palms.

The two guards made eye contact. The beefy one at his shoulder nodded. “Finish up. Fast.”

“You got it.” Mickey moved onto the next pot. He didn’t dare look back at Iris, unsure whether she’d recognized him yet or not. He heard the patio door slide open and quickly shifted his position so he could keep an eye on everything.

Donovan stepped into the sunlight. The man clearly thought of himself as a king—divine right, master of his domain. He spared a glance in Mickey’s direction then trained his focus on Cosmo. “You surprise me.”

The magician hunkered down to coax Edgar from beneath the patio table. “What, that I showed up so fast?

“That you showed up at all.”

Cosmo smirked. “I would have been here quicker, but I had to deal with Turner.”

This put Donovan on edge. “You lie.”

“I never lie.” He stood, cradling the overfed rabbit in his arms. “Turner won’t be coming. So you’re on your own.”

Mickey watched, an ache in his heart, as Donovan made a purposeful line toward Iris. This woman, who’d wanted none of this kind of life, had been thrust into the middle of it against her wishes. She was little more than a pawn now. Still, what would Donovan do? The man might hire killers, but he wasn’t a killer himself.

Donovan stepped close to Iris then lashed out and grabbed her suddenly. In one smooth movement, he had a gun at her temple.

Mickey reacted in an instinctive lunge, drawing his weapon, though the silencer made it unbalanced.

“Hold it, Kincaid!” Donovan shouted.

Cosmo gasped. “Everybody just stop! Don’t kill Mickey. He’s hidden the real gems.”

Terror drained Iris’s face as she recognized him.

Mickey held his position, his aim. “Hurt her, Donovan, and you’re a dead man.”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Kincaid.” He shifted his stance so Iris blocked most of his body. “I’d prefer not to hurt anyone here poolside. Bloodstains will destroy the resale value.”

Mickey stole a quick glance at the guards. Their guns were trained on him, but neither looked eager to fire without specific orders. “How’d you know it was me?”

Donovan’s body remained rigidly behind Iris. “Did you think I wouldn’t know something was up the moment Betina told me Cosmo arrived with his son? How lame is that?”

Mickey looked to Cosmo.

“Sorry,” the magician said. “Frankly, I didn’t know he owned a gun.”

“Always study your adversary,” Donovan replied with a twisted grin. “Now, Kincaid, drop your weapon. You wouldn’t want to risk harming your little lady friend here.”

Mickey’s eyes sought Iris. Don’t give up on me yet, tiger.

***

Iris looked across at Mickey. Shoot him! Don’t worry about me—save Cosmo. Save yourself. Held in Donovan’s sweaty grip, she knew she would willingly forfeit her life if she could gain the freedom of these two men she loved.

But even as she willed him to shoot, Mickey’s gun clattered to the concrete. She looked from it back to his clear blue eyes. He gave her his swashbuckling grin, as if to promise her he would still save them all.

She was so going to kill Mickey Kincaid.

Assuming they both survived today.

Donovan kept a tight hold on her as he issued more orders. “Kick the gun toward me. Good. Now, go stand over there with Cosmo. You men, keep them covered.”

Iris twisted in his grasp, but only succeeded in having him tighten his grip and bring the muzzle of his gun to rest against her cheek where she could see it. Honest to God, she’d never seen a gun in her life before—why had she been staring down so many barrels in the past couple of days?

“So you want me to believe that now Kincaid has taken and hidden the real gems.” Donovan spoke as if he were in a business meeting, and Cosmo nothing more than a colleague. “Well, my jeweler tells me what I have are real alexandrite, but Iris tells me I should check the inclusions of the stones. What do you all know that I don’t?”

“We know you don’t have the Romanov alexandrite, that’s for sure,” Cosmo said.

Donovan’s hold on her tightened, as if she were personally responsible for him being ripped off at this last minute. “If these aren’t the Romanov gems, where are they?” he asked Mickey.

Mickey shrugged and looked to Cosmo.

Her father’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t know where they are. You should have thought of that before you ordered Turner to kill George Halsted.”

Behind her, she felt the rush of breath as Donovan fumed in her ear. “I don’t believe you. These stones are too perfect. If they’re not the Romanov gems, where did you get them?”

Iris’s heart swelled as she watched Cosmo’s face light up at the question. “They’re lab-grown synthetics of the highest quality. I got them from my wife’s Russian relatives—the Gorseyev family. Cultural Minister Alexei Gorseyev is my cousin by marriage.”

“You lie!”

Cosmo looked heavenward while he stroked Edgar’s back. “You know, it really pays to study your adversary.”

Donovan growled in frustration. “That’s it. You’ve ruined my plans for the last time, Fortune!”

Iris watched in horror as Donovan’s arm straightened to aim his gun at her father, who was clutching Edgar to his chest. She had to do something. With one hefty tug, she pulled free from his hold and elbowed him in the ribs with all her might. From the corner of her eye, she saw a dark flash of movement as Mickey launched himself between Donovan and her father.

“No!” The gunshot reverberated in her ears, the acrid smell of powder filling her nostrils. She prayed she’d been able to spoil Donovan’s aim. He teetered with the impact from her elbow, and Iris broke free.

“Iris, get down!” she heard Mickey shout. Her body folded to the ground without conscious thought.

Another shot rang out, though the sound was muffled. Behind her, Donovan’s cry of pain bled into a loud splash. Water droplets spattered her.

She reopened her eyes, terrified of what she would see. Her father was still standing, Edgar burrowed into the crook of his elbow. Mickey lay stretched out on the ground, his gun now aimed at the two guards who both stood with their arms in the air. Glancing sideways, she realized Donovan had fallen into the pool.

“Mickey, it’s okay.” Cosmo set Edgar down on the concrete. “The boys here are Betina’s sons. They won’t hurt us. I’m their godfather.”

“They have guns,” Mickey said. Even so, his weapon slipped from his flexed fingers.

Gaining her feet, Iris hurried to him as he rolled over to reveal a red stain blooming on his shirt. Not again. “Lie still. You’re shot.” She kneeled down to lace her fingers with his.

Mickey tried to push up on an elbow. “No, I just pulled my stitches. I’ll be fine.” His blue eyes met hers and their gazes held.

Cosmo walked fearlessly to the two guards. “Hand them over, boys.”

Both men surrendered the weapons without question.

From the pool came splashes and sputtering. “Someone help me out of here. I’m bleeding.”

Cosmo hooked a thumb toward the pool. “Get a towel and get him out of the pool, and don’t let him bleed on the concrete. Your mother will have a fit.” He came back over to look at Mickey. “Hmm, you’ve already made a mess.”

“I had to do something. He was going to shoot you.”

“Mickey, my boy, why do you think I’m wearing this shapeless nurse’s outfit with a loose-fitting lab coat?” He pounded himself on the sternum twice. “Bulletproof vest. I think it’s the only thing holding my boobs in place. Honestly, I don’t know how women live with these things.” The sound of a door sliding made him turn.

“Someone call for the police?” Hunter stepped through the patio doors. To Iris’s surprise, Marko and Viktor Gorseyev followed him.

“Took you long enough,” Mickey said.

“Sorry. It’s been a busy morning. You weren’t in any danger here, were you?”

Mickey looked up at Iris. “No. Cosmo and Iris here were great backup.”

“Hey, I was great backup. Cosmo just stood there.” Iris smiled down at him. Happiness built within her until she feared she might burst with it.

“Do less, accomplish more,” her father said. “Besides, I had to give Donovan something to aim at. Hunter, your prisoner is this way.” He guided the detective over to handcuff a dripping Donovan, whose shoulder was bleeding. While they were there, Cosmo made introductions and had Hunter shaking hands with Betina’s boys.

Iris shook her head. “My father’s a madman.”

“You say it with pride,” Mickey said softly.

“Yeah.”

He tried to rise, but she pushed him back down. “Stay put. You’ve risked your neck enough for one day.”

He lapsed back onto the concrete. “Seems I wasn’t the only one risking my life. What you did was very brave.”

Iris warmed with his approval. “It doesn’t seem like that much.”

“That’s because you weren’t worrying about yourself, you were worrying about others.”

Edgar hobbled up to them, and she scratched his long ears as he snuffled along Mickey’s arms.

Mickey smiled at the rabbit. “I used to hate this rabbit.”

“He saved your neck once or twice.”

“So did you.” He pulled her hand forward and kissed it. “You did more than save me, Iris. You made me love you.”

Tears stung her eyes. Here was a final chance, if she were willing to risk it. “I wasn’t completely honest with you. I blamed you and your job for not wanting…” She swallowed. “It wasn’t all about my dad not being there. I worried that I wasn’t a good enough daughter to hold his attention. If I couldn’t hold him, how could I ever hope to hold onto a man like you?”

He touched her chin, raising her downcast eyes to meet his. “Let me decide that.” His lips slid into a grin. “So, you think I’m too much man for you to handle?”

She slapped him lightly on his good shoulder, making sure not to scare Edgar. “No!” Her smile dimmed as she tried once more to put words to emotions that haunted her, beliefs she wanted to cast out once and for all. “Instead of worrying so much about what I might or might not be, I’m thinking I should just get out there and be who I am.”

“Like you did this weekend?”

“Yeah. Well, maybe without the killers.”

“But maybe with the thief?”

“I liked the thief,” she admitted. Leaning down to kiss his lips, she added, “Especially the part where he stole my heart.”

***

Cosmo watched the police haul Donovan away. He hadn’t started out to ruin the devil, but Donovan had become more and more dangerous until Cosmo was forced to fight for his very survival. He still couldn’t believe his luck that all his daughters were safe.

With a glance at Mickey, who lay bleeding on the concrete with Iris beside him, he was forced to admit that maybe it wasn’t all luck.

He walked toward Marko and Viktor, who were deep in conversation. They turned their attention on him as he approached. “I don’t know how to thank you. Both of you.”

Marko crossed his arms over his bear-like chest. “You should have told us you were in such serious trouble. We could have helped.”

“You did help. No one got hurt?”

“No. As you say, easy as pie.”

“What did you do with Jock and Pebbles?”

“The two kidnappers? We left them tied up in their apartment to await the police.”

“And my daughters? Where are they?”

“Sergei and Aunt Tatiana took them back to the hotel.”

Cosmo winced at this news. He should have known she’d go on the rescue mission, too. She’d probably loved it. “Does she know?”

“I didn’t tell her, but those young women might. They were all very talk-talk-talk with her. She seems to like them both.”

That was a relief of sorts. Maybe Tatiana wouldn’t castrate him when she discovered the full truth. And if he could give her gems back— “Jesus, I’ve got to find that collar and George’s stones, and—” Without finishing, he hurried back to ask Iris about Edgar’s collar, praying she’d be able to tell him what happened to a cool ten million in gems.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Mickey got the girl, and what did I get? A mountain of paperwork.

Justin stared at the forms and papers strewn in makeshift piles on the worktable, then rubbed his eyes. It had been one hell of a long day. Add in the all-nighter at the hospital the night before, and he figured he hadn’t slept in over thirty-six hours. He was getting too old for this. Daring a glance up, he tried to catch his reflection in the glass partition. Yep, Zombie Cop.

Which probably explained why he was hallucinating. No way was Allie Fortune wending her way through the squad room as if she were dancing through a field of flowers. She smiled at him with such carefree grace, he had to remind himself that she’d spent her morning tied to a chair.

Her hair, normally pulled back, cascaded around her shoulders and fanned across the breast of her floral sundress. Her bare legs tapered down to strappy sandals, which did nothing to slow her stride.

Justin gulped. He reached for his tea—a defense mechanism more than thirst.

“I knew I’d find you here,” she said in greeting.

“The reports don’t file themselves.” His voice sounded gruff. Bureaucracy smothered a lot of the satisfaction he should be feeling. He’d wrapped up a big case, caught the man behind a string of murders, and no civilians had been hurt. Granted, that crazy magician had more explaining to do, but—

As if she read his thoughts, Allie asked, “Aunt Tatiana is still angry with Daddy for taking her gems. Will you have to arrest him?”

“Since they’re related, we’re viewing it as a private domestic matter. Unless the Gorseyevs want to swear out a formal complaint, the department won’t officially get involved.”

“I knew you were on Daddy’s side.”

Justin shrugged. He needed to discourage that hero-thing she had for him. “Of course, Donovan is screaming that Cosmo tricked him—”

“Well, of all the nerve!”

Justin chuckled, despite himself. “Exactly. But he didn’t get that wealthy without brazening things out. Unfortunately for him, he can’t provide us with any evidence.”

“What does Daddy say?”

He lifted a large manila envelope he’d received upon returning to the station. “Your father sent us a written statement of the facts and a few other papers.” Closer to a hundred. Justin suspected these “facts” were dramatically colored by Cosmo’s warped perspective, but they made so much sense, he planned to integrate them into his report. Cosmo might be a pain in the ass, but he wasn’t a bad guy. “Cosmo claims he was hired by Donovan to acquire a set of gems that were intended as a gift for the Russian Minister of Culture. He says he’s picked up and delivered the gems, and therefore, Donovan has no cause to complain. Personally, I think your dad’s still lying, but I have no way to prove it.”

“Wait, don’t you see?” The overhead fluorescents bathed Allie’s face but had little to do with the twinkle of satisfaction in her eyes. “Tatiana said that Marko and Viktor’s brother worked for the Ministry of Culture.”

“But he hasn’t given her the gems yet. And they’re her own gems. Cosmo is shameless.”

She laughed. “He is, but it’s just a little white lie.”

“I hope so.” Justin tossed the envelope back onto the table. “If the Romanov gems do exist, I hope they remain safely in Russia.”

“And what about Donovan? Will he go to jail?”

“I don’t see how he can avoid it. He kidnapped your sister, he had you and Cory abducted, he tried to murder your father—”

“Not to mention Daddy’s friend George Halsted and those other people.”

“Yeah, well, we haven’t gotten Turner to talk yet. He’s still groggy from that sedative.” Served the hit man right. “He’s under surveillance at the hospital, but I think Officer Foote is going to enjoy reading him his Mirandas.”

“All neatly wrapped up. You’re to be commended, Detective Hunter.”

He ducked his head, unaccustomed to praise, and more than uncomfortable with the approval in her golden eyes. After a sip of tea to fortify himself, he steered the conversation back to a safer topic. “What about you? Have you talked to your father?”

“Not yet. I figure Iris and Cory have bigger issues to resolve with him.” She sounded blissfully unconcerned, and Justin couldn’t detect even a note in her tone that suggested she was lying.

“You’re not the least bit angry with him?”

“No. I wish he’d told us sooner, but I can’t be angry with him for giving me sisters.” A bittersweet smile trembled on her lips. “‘To everything there is a season.’ If Daddy hadn’t waited this long to tell us, then he wouldn’t have gotten in such danger, and I wouldn’t have met you.” Her golden eyes glowed.

Hell. For years Justin had avoided dipping a toe in the dating pool. During this investigation he’d worried that he might have waded in deeper than he intended. Now, suddenly, he found himself treading in water so deep, he could drown.

Allie Fortune had captivated him.

And that was not good. Not good for her. Not good for his job.

“So—” She reacted to his silence by forcing a casual tone. “I was hoping you’d let me buy you a drink. It’s the least I can do after what you’ve done for Daddy and all of us.” Her angelic features radiated hope, and she exuded a contagious joy.

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.

“Be that way, but I plan to marry Mrs. Livingston.”

She swiveled her head to stare at him. For a second, hope warred with outrage in her dark eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“If she’ll have me.”

The silence stretched until Cory’s shoulders slumped with an audible exhalation. “Papa, do you think I can ever forgive her?”

“I don’t see why not.” He tilted her chin up until she met his eyes again. “You’ve already forgiven me. Now, you better check on that sandwich. I think you’ve just invented ‘charred cheese.’”

***

Iris sat in the Gorseyevs’ suite at the Bellagio Wednesday evening. For the first time in nearly a week, she didn’t feel as if danger lurked in every corner. Instead she felt insulated by family and friends. Amazing how much had changed in her world over a long weekend.

Aunt Tatiana had requested a family dinner, and even though she’d invited Cory and Allie, the two women had politely refused, saying that this once, at least, Iris should have her family to herself. The three sisters had enjoyed a long evening together the previous night, and Iris treasured the memory of how the three of them had bonded.

“What are you smiling at?” Beside her, Mickey laid a hand on her knee. “Me, I hope.”

She moved his hand before it started an up-thigh climb. “Stop. I was thinking of my sisters and my cousins and, well, everything.”

“Probably just as well. Not sure I’m quite up to, you know.” He wagged his brows at her as his lips slid into his familiar pirate grin.

“Behave.” She brushed a stray lock of hair back from his brow, grateful the doctors had seen fit to release him today—with strict orders to limit his activity. “Or I’ll put you in Aunt Tatiana’s wheelchair.”

He leaned close to her. “Is it true she was a KGB agent during the Cold War?”

“So they tell me,” she whispered. She pointed to her burly Russian uncles, who were laughing over a drink with Sergei and Cosmo. “And Marko and Viktor own a security company and train bodyguards.”

Her great-aunt sat in a wing chair across from them, every inch a monarch on her throne as she called for a small glass of vodka. Her color and energy had bloomed in the past day, and she was already demanding that Marko bring her back to Las Vegas every year for a visit.

Iris’s gaze traveled back to her father, but her former suspicions were now reduced to curiosity. Earlier in the day, he’d stopped at the store and asked her for those fake rubies she’d taken off Edgar’s collar.

“What are you up to?” she’d asked.

“Just returning things where they belong.”

“No funny business?”

“Never again,” he’d said, solemnly. She’d accepted his word.

But tonight he looked like his old self. The trickster ready to take the stage. He and Marko regaled each other with stories that made Sergei laugh out loud, and even Viktor occasionally broke a smile. She was sure the exploits were heavily embellished, but she’d no longer doubt any of their abilities or their love for their families.

“And what’s up with your cousin Sergei?” Mickey asked. “I heard he struck Turner in the arm with a knife from thirty paces. He could have killed you.”

Iris giggled. “It turns out Sergei is the black sheep of the family. He ran off with a circus for five years where he learned sword-swallowing, knife-throwing and trapeze before he returned to take a job within the Ministry of Justice. Personally, I think he works for the FSB.”

“FSB?”

“Russia’s version of the FBI.”

“Cosmo Fortune!” Aunt Tatiana commanded attention with her strident voice. “I have waited and waited. Where are my gems?”

Cosmo came forward, the jester to her queen, prepared to entertain. “Aunt Tatiana, I have brought them as promised.” Like the magician he was, he conjured up a pouch from thin air. Bringing it to Tatiana, he motioned for her to hold out her hands.

She played along and allowed him to shake the ten gems into her gnarled fingers. A cackle escaped her. “I never thought to see these again.”

“Those are yours to keep,” Cosmo said. “Unless, you’d care to trade them for what’s in here.” Again, he conjured a bag.

Iris and Mickey exchanged a look. “What’s he up to?” Mickey asked.

Iris shrugged. She was as enthralled as everyone else in the room.

Cosmo held the black velvet bag high. “George Halsted was a jeweler, a fence and, at times, a good friend. He gave his life to authenticate these gems. May he rest in peace having done such a good deed.”

“What do you mean, Cosmo?” Tatiana demanded. She piled her gems in her lap like a child gathering eggs when she fears the chickens might rise up and steal them back.

“Donovan sent me to Moscow with George Halsted to pick up the Romanov alexandrite. More than anything, George wanted to hold those mythical gems in his hand.” He brought the bag to Tatiana and bent down on one knee to offer it to her. “Now I give them to you and the Gorseyev family. You know so much of their past, you should decide their future.”

Tatiana regarded him with suspicion. “Show me one of them.”

Cosmo opened the bag and withdrew a single vivid red gem.

Tatiana took it and held it to the light. Turning it over and over, she analyzed it from every angle. Finally, she looked at Cosmo. “Where did you get this?”

“These are the stones purchased from the Russian mafia leader Konstantin Vanislav. To the best of my knowledge, they are the Romanov alexandrite.”

Astonished, Iris hurried to her aunt’s side. “May I?” She took the gem in her hand and studied it at length. The color was exquisite, a true red like a ruby, while the clarity was unparalleled. The facets of the stone were those cut by a master.

“Is there a fluorescent light anywhere?”

Marko pointed to the kitchen alcove. “Under the cabinets—it lights the countertops.”

Iris carried the gem over and flipped the switch. Holding out the stone, she held her breath as it turned from ruby red to vivid emerald green. She nearly dropped it. Spinning around, she cast an accusing glare at her father. “How? Where have you been hiding these?”

“I wasn’t hiding them. George hid them. Then he put the information on where to find them inside some fake rubies and put them on a collar for Edgar.”

Iris thought back to Sunday morning. When she’d decided to change out the stones on Edgar’s collar, she hadn’t looked twice at the lightweight fake rubies. “Stop. Go back to the beginning. How did you get involved, why did you get involved and why did you take Aunt Tatiana’s gems?”

“You’re taking all the fun out of this, Iris.”

“Humor me.”

Cosmo grinned that shameless coyote grin of his. “Donovan came to me a couple months ago. He wanted to hear all the stories about the Romanov alexandrite. Then he told me he had a lead on where the gems were and offered to hire me to help acquire them. And that’s when I got the idea—”

“You are a dangerous man when you get ideas, Cosmo Fortune.” Tatiana pounded her cane on the floor with anticipation. “Go on.”

“I decided to borrow the Gorseyevs’ synthetic alexandrites and switch them for the Romanov gems.”

Iris gasped “But that’s—”

“Stealing?” Cosmo’s entire face was lit in amusement. “Think about it. Donovan had already told me his plan to authenticate the Romanov gems and then send them as a gift to the Russian Minister of Culture.”

“Alexei?” Marko and Viktor shared a look.

“Exactly. So, Aunt Tatiana’s gems would have been on their way back to Russia almost immediately if Mickey hadn’t interfered.”

“Interfered?” Mickey snorted. “Cosmo, you’re lucky Donovan sent me and not Turner after you.”

Cosmo scratched his ear. “Well, that’s true…”

“So, if Aunt Tatiana’s gems were going to be given to Donovan and returned to Alexei Gorseyev,” Iris said slowly, “then what were you planning to do with the real Romanov alexandrite?”

“Exactly what I am doing.” Cosmo blew out an exasperated breath. “Bring them to you so you would understand that Irina’s stories were true. So you could see and touch the craftsmanship of your ancestors. And then I was going to take you to St. Petersburg to meet Aunt Tatiana and all your cousins. I thought you should learn more about your family before you married David.”

Iris’s throat tightened at the thought of how such a gift would have—had—affected her future.

“But the stones disappeared, and so we came here,” Marko said. “It is good, yes?”

“Yes, I think things worked out even better than I’d planned. Well, except for George.” Cosmo shook his head sadly. “He knew Irina, and God knows he knew me. I think he suspected I was planning something. That’s why he wanted to get his payment before he turned over the gems. But he had a soft spot for Iris—remembered her from when she was a child—so he gave me the collar with the whereabouts of the gems. I was going to switch out the gems Friday night, but then Mickey nabbed me. And Turner—well, he killed George and sent a very clear message by stashing the body in my car.”

Iris swallowed. Now she got it. “Even though I had George’s information in those fake rubies all along, you never told me. You were trying to protect me.”

“But then I dragged you into this whole mess.” Mickey squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled at him. “I’m not.”

“Once both of you got involved, you became marks, too,” Cosmo said. “No, from that point on the only thing to do was play it out until we caught Donovan.”

Tatiana clucked at Cosmo’s story. “You should have told us all about this Donovan character at once.”

“I was trying to keep everyone else out of danger,” Cosmo said sullenly.

“You cannot forever act on your own,” Marko said. “You asked for help, and now we have a happy ending for everyone, yes?”

Tatiana accepted the Romanov gem back from Iris. “Indeed. We will take these back to Russia. It is fitting that the Gorseyev family bestow them on a proper museum.”

Cosmo shook his head like a dejected child. “Seems a shame to stick them in a museum after all we went through to get them.”

“They belong to all Russians,” Tatiana said. “Besides, these stones have always had a troubled history. The blood of many people can be traced to them. We will make sure that your friend’s part of the story is not forgotten.”

Cosmo furrowed his brow. “What about my part?”

Tatiana pursed her lips primly. “We shall see.”

“Aunt Tatiana?”

“Yes, Iris?”

With everyone’s attention on her, Iris grew nervous, but then decided she needed to make her offer and see how it was received. “If you like, I can put the Romanov gems back into their original necklace. And I can copy the necklace, so you’ll have one to keep with your synthetic alexandrites.” She watched the older woman’s face, awaiting her decision.

Tatiana smiled broadly. “I would love that, my dear. It would be all the more special for our family’s history to have your craftsmanship become a part of it. But you must promise me something.”

“Anything,” Iris answered.

“You must keep the copied necklace for yourself. It will be your bride gift from all of us.”

Warmth rushed up Iris’s face as she glanced from her great-aunt to Mickey. “Well, but Mickey and I…I mean, we’re not…”

Mickey leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Run with it,” he whispered.

Cosmo helped gather up the loose gemstones in their respective bags. “Aunt Tatiana, it means a great deal to me that you would do that for Iris. She deserves to carry on her family heritage. You know, she’s not to blame for my…indiscretions.”

“Indiscretions?” Tatiana’s voice became more strident than normal. “I knew all about the marriages, were there also infidelities along the way?”

“What? No!” Cosmo stopped. “You knew?”

Tatiana cackled so hard, tears streamed down her wrinkled cheeks. The other Russians burst out in laughter, too, until Cosmo scowled at them.

Marko brought his aunt a tissue, and she wiped at her eyes.

“Did you think I did not know? I knew before you married Irina. I even told her, but she would not give you up. She loved you, and she wanted to live in America. She carried your child, and I allowed her to go. For a few years, I wrote to her and begged her to come home, but all I did was drive her away. She stopped speaking to me.”

Cosmo lowered himself into a chair. “She never told me she knew. But she always made it so easy whenever I told her I needed to leave.”

Tatiana’s eyes sought out Iris. “I think she kept us away because she feared I might tell you. She never wanted either of you to know. It was very important to her that she live the illusion of a normal American life. It was only important to me that she was happy.” She looked over at Cosmo. “And I don’t know how you did it, but you did make her happy.”

Iris went to the tiny older woman and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.” So many things fell into place now that she knew she belonged to this special family.

After dinner Iris took Mickey onto the suite’s balcony to watch the Bellagio fountains perform their magical ballet. They stood shoulder to shoulder, straining to hear the music that floated up on the night wind.

The music swelled, and a final spout of water shot from the lake, signaling the end of the performance. When it was over, the lake returned to its tranquil state, a small dark haven in the middle of the Strip’s bright lights. In the stillness, removed from all the bustle below, Iris cherished having Mickey by her side as they leaned on the balcony’s railing.

“Guess you’ll be glad to put all this behind you and get back to your usual routine,” he said quietly.

Without giving herself time to talk herself out of it, she leaned into him. “I don’t want my usual routine. I wasn’t living then. Just barely getting by, really.” She captured his lips with hers.

The kiss was warm, a mutual celebration, a mutual homecoming. His hand came up to caress her cheek as she withdrew.

“God, I love you,” he said.

She snuggled close to his chest, encouraging him to put his arms around her. “Good, because I think you may need me. And I know I need you.”

“I promise to always keep you and protect you.” His words were a solemn vow in her ear.

“Shh.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “You don’t need to protect me. You’ll be too busy protecting others as part of your job—and that’s as it should be,” she added when he tried to interrupt. “No, when you’re with me, just love me. And let me love you.”

“Gladly,” he whispered before pulling her to him for another kiss.

About the Author

2008 RWA Golden Heart Award finalist Amy Atwell has enjoyed many careers that enriched her life—horse trainer, Shakespearean actress, children’s theater director, rock singer, designer of custom closets and wine cellars, caretaker of an island ghost town—but writing fiction has proven to be the greatest adventure of all. A believer in pursuing dreams, she wrote for ten years and earned many awards for her unpublished manuscripts before selling her first book. She now writes full-time and runs an active online community for goal-oriented writers. When not traveling, Amy lives on a barrier island in northeast Florida with her husband and two highly imaginative Russian Blue cats. Lying Eyes is her first novel featuring Cosmo Fortune. Visit her online at http://www.amyatwell.com.

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Copyright © 2010 by Amy Atwell

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Table of Contents

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

About the Author