Good. But she closed her eyes as she thought it, once again trying to evade that image of Pebbles shooting Mickey in the head. She picked up the gun from the table, being sure to keep it pointed away from her. She didn’t know that much about guns, and with her hands tied, she had limited range of motion. She walked back into the bedroom to find Mickey sitting on the chair she’d vacated.
His eyes grew round when he saw the gun. “Whoa now, tiger.”
“Just tell me, where’s his body?” She wanted to find it before Turner did. That was the least she could do for her sisters.
Mickey watched Iris approach. Vengeance brightened her eyes, making him sweat. “I swear to you, he’s alive as far as I know.” He tilted his chin to the right to avoid the muzzle of the gun. “Do you know anything about handguns?”
“Not really. You just pull the trigger, right?”
Shit. “First off, you only point it at someone you intend to kill.” He braved a direct look to appraise her mood. Iris was tied up in knots that had nothing to do with the cord still around her wrists. She was exhausted and scared and angry-not to mention, she had to be in pain-any of which could have her accidentally pulling that trigger. “Could you just point that at the floor?”
“Not as much fun when you’re not in control, is it, Mickey, ol’ pal?” But she lowered the gun. “I don’t know what to do with you. You say you didn’t kill Cosmo, but I can’t be certain. I can’t trust you anymore. I think it’s better if we part company here.”
Mickey’s heart sank. Oddly, it wasn’t the thought of being left here to die, it was the thought that he’d had her trust and lost it. But he knew what he had to do.
“Look, Rissie, we don’t have time to chat about it. You need to get out of here, now. Take that gun with you-turn it into the police. They’ll know what to do with it.” With luck, Hunter would find his body one day.
She wavered. “I’m sorry.” Self-preservation made her eager to bolt, he could tell.
“I’ll be fine,” he said with all the bravado he could muster. Anything to get her out of here. If this were the only way to save her, so be it. “Don’t worry. I can talk my way out of anything. Now go.”
She swiped at what he suspected was a tear, then she walked out. He heard sounds in the other room. Iris gathering her things, her low voice reassuring Edgar as she worked.
“Leave my phone, will you?” he called out to her. “I might be able to call my next of kin.”
“It’s on the table.”
He heard a door open and close. And then, silence.
Heaving a breath meant only to refresh his lungs, Mickey balanced on his feet again and made his way into the living room the only way he could-hopping like a goddamn rabbit. But there was his phone. If he could get it open and speed dial Hunter, he might survive the night.
Although, if he couldn’t find Cosmo, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to look Iris Fortune in the face again.
He used his nose to nudge the phone near the edge of the table, then turned around and fumbled the phone with his hands until he managed to get it open. He felt along the buttons, feeling pretty sure that he’d dialed *9. When he tried to put the phone back on the table so he could turn and talk into it, the phone slipped and fell to the floor.
“Shit.” He dropped to his knees, which hurt like hell, but it beat having them shot off, which could still be on tonight’s agenda if he didn’t get this right. He heard the phone connection ringing, but couldn’t see-ah, there, underneath the table.
“Hello?”
Double shit. He’d dialed *8. “Mom?”
“Michael! What a nice surprise. Two calls in two nights. You must be wrapping up that case of yours.”
“Working on it. Hey, is Dad there?”
“No, he’s gone to midnight bowling. Can I have him call you when he gets home?”
Mickey doubted he’d be alive for two ten-frames and a pitcher of beer with the boys. Worse, he had to find a way to get Mom to hang up. He couldn’t reach his phone under the table, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her listening to what would happen to him when Turner arrived. “Mom, I do need you to do something for me-”
The apartment door’s handle jiggled.
“What is it, dearie?”
Mickey froze, all the horrors of his brother’s murder fresh in his mind. It grieved him to put his mother through all that pain again. Dying wouldn’t hurt him, it was the family he’d leave behind who would suffer.
“Hang up the phone. I need to go.”
He was about to die. What a hell of a time to discover just how much he wanted to live.
Chapter Ten
The door opened, and Mickey peeked over the dining table to confront his executioner.
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.