by Amy Atwell
“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.
Davi
d 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 afrai
d 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.”