Iris wished she could see his face, but settled for being bold, reaching out to touch his jaw, his cheek. His beard was soft, though it seemed too hot for the desert; she wondered what he looked like beneath it, why a man as handsome as him would grow facial hair in the first place. “Sounds like you grew up as poor as I did.”
“My mom was—still is—a lawyer, but she was young when she had me, just barely out of school. It was hard for her. Being a woman and an immigrant also made it more difficult. People didn’t trust her.”
“Where’s she from?”
“Afghanistan. She got out in the seventies, before the country went to hell. Came to America as a student and never left.”
“And your dad?”
“Not in the picture.”
Ah. A pain she understood all too well. It didn’t make it any easier to talk about, though. “My dad wasn’t around, either.”
“You miss him?”
“I never knew him. I figure, though, that if he was worth knowing, my mom would have kept him.” Iris hesitated. “You never told me what you do for a living.”
“I’m not sure I should.”
“International Man of Mystery,” she countered. “You must be a spy. That, or an accountant.”
He grunted. “Close, actually. I’m a detective.”
“Seriously? A real detective? A Magnum P.I.?”
“I don’t drive a Ferrari, but yeah, I’m for real.”
“Huh,” Iris said. How … unsurprising. Because if she really had to choose a profession for Blue, detective fit the bill just perfectly. Or at least, the movie star version. He had the look, he had the moves, and he had enough sincerity to kill a goat.
But it bothered her. She just couldn’t explain how.
“That’s why you came to Las Vegas,” Iris said slowly. “You’re on a case.”
“I am,” he said. “Or rather, I was.”
“So is the person you’re looking for here? In this circus?”
Blue hesitated. “I can’t say.”
“You can’t or you won’t?”
“It’s not like that. The question can’t be answered in a straight way, Iris.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means what I told you. Circumstances have changed.”
“They can’t have changed that much. You’re still here.”
“A lion tried to swallow me. I fell in love.”
“Smart ass. Besides, Petro’s too nice for you.”
“I know. And his mother is scary.”
“Terrifying,” Iris said, and she felt his lips touch her cheek, his strong hand smooth back her hair with such gentleness that once again, heat suffused her face, tears burned her eyes. Her reaction terrified her, but there was no help for it. She could not bring herself to pull away.
The truck rumbled, bouncing over the uneven ground of the back lot. The cats yawned and groaned, shuffling and turning in the darkness. Blue, so quiet she could barely hear him, said, “I was standing right there, Iris. Just on the other side of that tent. And he walked right in without anyone noticing and threatened you. He threatened you.”
“I let him. I could have fought him, subdued him, but at the moment when I was going to do it, he just … looked at me. I froze.”
“There’s no shame in that.”
“There is if he managed to hurt me or the cats. As it stands, I just feel … dirty.”
Blue fumbled for her hand and kissed it. Iris forgot how to breathe, how to talk. “Don’t,” he whispered, his breath hot against her wrist. “You did the right thing. You have to trust your instincts.”
“Sometimes my instincts are wrong.”
“No. You have to trust yourself, Iris. You have to trust your mistakes. Even the bad times teach us things.”
“What have they taught you?”
He laid her hand on his chest, against his heart. “That being alone is too easy, and that I’m a lazy person.”
“I’d almost say we’re two of a kind, then.”
“You’re not lazy.”
“No,” she agreed. “I’m just frightened.”
Blue sighed. The truck began to slow, and Iris was sorry for it. She wanted to stay here, like this, forced to commune with Blue in the darkness. She did not want to let go, and her hand on his chest as she savored the slow rise and fall of his warm breath. She felt the bandage, too, and remembered him fighting, the look on his face. “I’m sorry you got hurt, Blue. I’m so sorry. But thank you for helping me.”
“I would have done more if I could have.”
“I’m glad you didn’t have to,” she said quietly. “I’m glad that’s all there was.”
The truck stopped. Blue did not let go of her hand, and she let him help her stand. Barry opened the doors. The holding pen was right in front of them, and next to that …
“My RV,” Iris said. “Someone moved the pen to the living area?”
Barry shrugged. “I just went where Mr. Reilly told me to go.”
“It makes sense.” Blue jumped out of the truck. He winced, favoring his right leg. “Your neighbors can watch you, and you can watch your cats.”
“And if the on-site inspectors come?”
“So what? The worst they’ll do is fine you.”
“And I suppose you’ll pay for that?”
“I dress well for a reason,” he said.
She hopped down and Barry pulled out the ramp. The desert furnace surrounded her; she smelled exhaust, sweat, some distant greasy kitchen. Fading perfume. The sun was so hot it hurt.
Petro led the march from the van. He moaned, lashing his tail as he walked slowly down the ramp. Someone had set up their swimming pool; above it, tied from one side of the wire to the other, stretched a blue plastic tarp. All the cats headed for the shady spot. Con went directly into the water. Boudicca and Lila flopped down. Petro rolled on his back.
Barry closed up the van. “I’ll see you tonight, Ms. McGillis?”
“No. Tonight’s show has been cancelled. I’ll give you a call tomorrow afternoon and let you know the revised schedule.”
That was good enough for Barry. He smiled, waved goodbye, and less than a minute later the truck rumbled away. Dust and dried grass kicked into the air. Iris coughed.
“They won’t cancel the show permanently,” Blue said. His chest was one big red spot.
Iris grunted, not ready to agree or disagree with him. “Your shirt is ruined.”
“I’ll get another.”
“You bring luggage?”
“Not really, no. Pete commandeered these clothes from Daniel.”
“Ah. Your soul mate.”
Blue’s expression soured. “That’s not funny.”
“Nothing about the way you two act toward each other is funny. Especially because I can’t understand it. One thing I do know, though, is that you definitely aren’t strangers.”
Blue grunted. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Were you ever … close?”
“No,” she said, somewhat amused by his question. “But I had a crush on him not so long ago. I’d also like to think he’s my friend.”
Another grunt. “Escape artist. I’ve never seen anything like it. The cage, the fire … I thought he was going to die.”
“He must be one of the best in the world. The things he could do, right from the beginning, shouldn’t have been possible. No one’s ever been able to figure him out. And if he keeps it up, if he doesn’t get sacked, he could receive his own show. It might happen anyway, even if the Miracle does get rid of him.”
“The same is true for you. You’re one of the stars.”
Iris shrugged, leaning against the holding pen. “I do my thing, I enjoy it, but I’m no better than the rest of the performers.”
“But if the hotel—if anyone—gave you the opportunity, you’d say yes, right?”
Yes to fame and fortune, yes to glory, yes to newspapers and cameras and the city? Yes to a life of illusion.
“I don’t know,
” Iris said. “The money would be good, but I’d have to leave everyone behind. Not physically, but it would still be a separation. Reilly’s Circus is all I’ve known for such a long time. How do you leave family, Blue?”
He smiled sadly. “You don’t, Iris. Not ever.”
“Some help you are.” Then, because she was already on a roll with the truth, she added, “I wish I could run away, Blue.”
She had an image in her head like some old cartoon: a stick over her shoulder with a packed red bandana swinging, and around her the cats, ranging wild and free down the open road. Or forget the bandana, forget humanity; she could travel into the hills and mountains, the old places people didn’t ever go, and just … be something else for awhile. Let the leopard be her pilot, her skin—let the human woman sleep for a day or a month or a year until humanity, until this life, was nothing more than some distant dying memory.
“Running away sounds like a good idea to me too,” Blue said. “Excellent, in fact. It’s not safe for you here, Iris.”
“I have obligations, though.”
“You have a more important obligation to stay alive. Someone shot at you last night, in case you’ve forgotten. And today? That was attempted kidnapping, and as far as I’m concerned, emotional assault.”
“I told you—”
“Yes, obligations. I do respect that, you know. I understand it, too.”
Iris turned away and walked to her RV. Blue joined her at the door, grazing her arm with his fingers before she could—what a novelty—unlock it with the key.
“Let me,” he said, and made her stand outside the RV while he entered first. Scouting out the premises, she said to herself, wondering if he had ever worked as a bodyguard, in addition to being a detective.
“You know,” she said to his back, as he disappeared into the dark interior of her tiny home. “Despite the way I froze against that little psycho, I can defend myself. I did fine against those goons today.”
“And if they had managed to pull a gun? Maybe the same kind of gun that was used against you last night?” Blue’s voice was muffled. Iris heard a rustling noise and peered into the RV. He was in her nearly non-existent bedroom, checking out her very narrow closet.
“Excuse me,” she said, entering her home. “But I can barely hang a shirt in there, let alone an entire man.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, glancing at the clothes scattered on her floor. Iris scowled, marching into the room—which involved less actual marching than squeezing between the wall and the mattress. The air smelled somewhat stale, like lion and old carpet, but at least it was home. There was so much crazy outside the walls of her battered RV, but here she could let her mind rest from the stress of facing the world, and she could be herself in all her furry splendor. It felt strange to have that territory invaded, however temporarily, by another person.
“I’m not going to take anything,” Blue said mildly, glancing over his shoulder.
Her cheeks warmed. “I didn’t think you would. Not that I have anything worth taking.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Blue held up a pair of rhinestone-studded four-inch stilettos. “These are nifty.”
“You can have them. They’ll do wonders for your legs.”
He laughed quietly. Iris leaned against the wall, reining herself in, trying to control her emotions. She wanted him again, and the attraction, emotional and physical, made her head all tangled and twisted.
“I’m safe,” she said, fighting for her voice. “You can go now.”
He stopped. “Do you want me to leave?”
“You shouldn’t feel obligated to protect me.”
“I’m here because I want to be. Obligation has nothing to do with it.” He frowned, stepping close. “I like you, Iris. Hasn’t anyone ever done anything for you, just because they like you?”
“Of course.”
“But this is different for you.” His gaze sharpened. “We’re different.”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She backed out of the bedroom, trying to stay strong as Blue followed, his expression concerned.
“You really are scared,” he said. “Iris, you don’t have to be.”
“Easy for you to say.” She grabbed a water bottle from the kitchenette counter and twisted off the lid. Blue reached out and covered her hand. His skin was dark against her own, the bones of his wrist strong and large. His touch made her go soft on the inside, and she hated herself for it. Surely she had learned her lesson. Surely she could resist this man.
Iris backed away. She needed distance, separation, anything but Blue, who despite her best intentions brought her too close to the edge, making her forget all the lessons that had kept her alive and safe. Secrets and lies, masks and illusions—her life, one unending performance.
Your humanity is not a lie. You are just like everyone else.
Except, she wasn’t. Not entirely. And it was that other half—the leopard, the predator—which was going to get her into deep trouble, if she was not careful.
But Iris made the mistake of looking into Blue’s eyes, and the warmth she found echoed low and sweet. She wanted to lick her lips but did not dare; his gaze drifted to her mouth and he moved toward her with slow deliberation, time slowing into an ache that pooled inside her heart.
Electricity filled the air, a pressure that felt like wind and lightning, a fast run in a dark wood with clouds rolling through the sky. She inhaled, filling her lungs with that unbearably wild scent, which curled through her body, wrapping around the leopard sleeping inside her chest. Iris felt the cat stir, felt the light and heat grow beneath her skin, but even as she fought it down, fought to stay human, she thought, I want to be me. I want to let you see.
Blue touched her face, caressing her cheeks, her throat, running his fingers through her hair. “Go out with me, Iris. Let me take you to dinner. If you don’t like dinner, then lunch. You don’t like lunch, we’ll do coffee. But let me take you somewhere. I want to do something with you. I’ve been wanting to do something since the first time I saw you.”
God help her, but Iris wanted to do something, too. But instead of saying yes, instead of leaning in and in and in, she opened her mouth—fought like hell with herself—and said, “I have a date with Daniel tonight.”
Blue stared, his hands going still. “You’re going on a date with my—Daniel?”
“Yes,” she said, but it sounded more like a question. He frowned, stepping even closer, stealing her personal space until their bodies were separated by a hairsbreadth, a whisper.
“Yes?” he asked softly. “Or yes?”
Iris swallowed hard. Blue moved slowly, giving her time to stop him, but she said nothing as his hands drifted down her bare arms to her waist. His touch shot electricity through her body, a tingling flush flowing from sternum to groin, hot as his breath on her cheek, hot enough to taste. It was a struggle not to move, not to rub her legs together, to rub against him. She gave in, pushing her aching breasts against his chest, sidling against his body. The sound of his breath catching made her want to throw back her head and laugh. God, this was good.
Blue’s grip tightened on her waist and Iris gasped as her feet left the floor. She found herself sitting on top of the kitchenette counter, breathless—close to crying out as Blue pushed himself between her legs, his hands traveling to her thighs. He touched her skin, fingertips riding up beneath her shorts, moving higher, higher, hesitating only once at the place where there should have been a panty line.
“I don’t like underwear,” Iris murmured.
Blue swallowed hard. His fingers pushed deeper into her shorts. Iris shuddered, closing her eyes. It was the first time she had ever been touched like that, and she savored it, holding her breath.
But his hands were large and the clothing trapped them. She felt Blue hesitate, and then his fingers were back at her waist, rimming the edge of the button, the fly. Iris forced herself not to question it. She wanted to be touched; she wanted so much to let go. Just once. She
was older now, stronger. Surely she could do this without losing control.
Iris touched him back, savoring the hard waist beneath her hands, the flat stomach and taut chest that flexed beneath her palms as her hands moved over his T-shirt up to his neck. His quickening breath stirred her hair—his scent, everywhere, drowning her—and the leopard stirred again, rolling hot as his fingers wound into her hair, tugging just slightly so that her face turned up toward his.
Blue kissed her. His mouth was hot and hard and Iris thought she must be hallucinating, dreaming, because kisses could not possibly feel this good, could not possibly be real, because there was sunlight in his lips, sunlight in her skin, sunlight rolling in her heart, pouring through every muscle, pouring like …
Fur! She felt fur on her arms.
Iris shoved Blue away, pushing so hard he slammed against the wall. Sparks shot from the socket next to him.
Her violence was shocking, shameful—a nightmarish echo of another boy. Teeth cut her mouth, the taste of blood strong and bitter, and though she wanted to go to Blue, her fear won out, terror and horror destroying every shred of confidence and hope she had painstakingly rebuilt. Iris ran fast, throwing herself into her bedroom, pushing up hard against the wall out of Blue’s sight. She huddled there like a child.
Iris heard a low groan and bit down on her lip. Her teeth had receded, as had the spotted hair on her arms, but she could not go to him. Not after what she had just done. He would never understand.
“Iris,” Blue called softly.
“Go away,” she said, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry, Blue, but please, just go.”
She heard a rustling sound, and then, “Don’t hide. Iris. Please, not from me. You don’t have to hi—”
His voice broke off. Sudden, punctuated by pure silence. Iris hesitated, but the quiet was unnatural. She uncurled from the floor and slowly, carefully, peered around the doorframe.
Blue stood with his back to her. He stared at the fire alarm attached to her ceiling.
“Oh, my God,” he said. Iris wiped her face and joined him. He did not react to her presence, showed no sign he noticed her at all. She peered up at the small white alarm. It did not appear any different than she remembered, but Blue reached out with one long arm, fingers dancing over its surface, and sucked in his breath.
Eye of Heaven Page 15
