Lying Eyes

by Amy Atwell

  “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.