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.