Lying Eyes

by Amy Atwell

  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?” Don
ovan 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.”