They shared the shower. Mickey scrubbed Iris’s back, then soaped and rinsed her chafed and bruised wrists. He lingered over washing her skin, memorizing the play of muscles across her back, the soft curve of her rounded breasts, inhaling the fragrance of her skin and hair. Later, they raided the refrigerator, where Iris found a bag of baby carrots and chopped them up with some greens for a salad for Edgar. Mickey filled a bowl of water for the rabbit, and they watched Edgar eat while they stuffed their mouths with deli turkey and Brie.
Mickey drew a long sip from a water bottle, his gaze roaming this kitchen, this woman. Even the rabbit. It all felt so domestic-so homey. His life had been far from normal ever since he arrived in Las Vegas. Domestic moments had no place in petty thief Mickey Kincaid’s world. But then, domestic moments had become uncomfortable for him since Brian-
“Turkey?” Iris stood at the open refrigerator door looking over her shoulder at him.
“What?”
“Do you want any more turkey?” she repeated.
“No, I’m good.” He watched her bend over to put things away. She wore nothing but his unbuttoned shirt, and she’d probably hate him for saying it, but in the open chambray with her hair all mussed up, she looked adorable.
Tell her.
Mickey popped a last bite of cheese into his mouth. That damn voice hadn’t shut up all night. As much as he’d like to tell her the truth, he could also list a litany of reasons why he shouldn’t. Sure, she’d come back to help him tonight. That had shown courage and faith. It’s not that he didn’t trust her, but where would a confession like his leave them?
“Brian promised me he’d always be there for me. He lied.” Suze’s bitterness over her husband’s death had been summed up that briefly.
Iris had set the boundaries-one night, no strings, no expectations, no promises. The least he could do was honor that and not offer her unwanted complications. He took another sip of water, letting his gaze wander the kitchen again. Was it wrong to steal a few hours of peace…of happiness? Christ-was that what he’d been feeling around Iris?
Happy. He’d almost forgotten what that was. Then he realized another subtle difference. His headaches, which had been chronic since Brian’s death, had abated. Despite the stress of this weekend, Iris managed to ease everything that was painful in his life.
“Okay, tell me what you’re thinking.” Iris stood at the other end of the kitchen, her arms folded in an unspoken challenge. “Because this silence is getting really awkward.”
Tell her. “Come here.” He opened his arms in invitation.
She approached without hesitation, then squeaked as he pulled her against him, sliding his arms inside her shirt and enveloping her in a warm hug, bare skin to bare skin.
He studied her for long seconds before speaking. “You may not want promises, but I propose we make a pact. No secrets between us in bed. Deal?”
His heart drummed beneath her hand as she traced the planes of his muscled chest. “Deal. Of course that might leave us with very little to say.”
“We’ll talk in the morning,” he murmured before pressing his lips to her earlobe. Words were overrated, he decided. “For now, let me show you what I’m thinking.”
They returned to the bedroom for more lovemaking, this time teasing and exploring, ravishing and cherishing each other slowly, erotically. Afterward, they fell into an exhausted slumber, their bodies tangled together as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Chapter Eleven
Cosmo eased the Trans Am slowly down the street. The vehicle’s tinted windows made night vision even more of a risk, but it helped ensure his anonymity. His buddy Bernie had smiled broadly when Cosmo asked to borrow a car for a little overnight reconnoitering.
“Got just the thing for you.” The smile, the words, the tone were nothing less than Cosmo had expected from a used car dealer.
“Nothing flashy,” Cosmo cautioned. “I need to blend in with the landscape.”
Bernie pointed him to the vintage red Trans Am with jacked-up oversized wheels. A giant phoenix painted in gold sprawled across the hood.
“I said blend in, not hold up a neon sign.”
Bernie stuffed his cigar between his teeth. Didn’t stop him from talking around it. “At this hour that will blend anywhere in Vegas. And if someone does make you, they ain’t never gonna catch you.”
Cosmo had eyed the car suspiciously, but now had to admit it did blend in. Souped-up rental cars were the rage nowadays amongst wealthy tourist gamblers. This car carried a hint of drug dealer or street gang, but with the dealer plates on it, the cops had left him alone. Even now, the officer standing by his squad car at the curb didn’t pay him any attention.
He’d stopped at Lying Eyes earlier, but the gems he’d stashed there were gone. Only Iris would have found and moved them. But where? And where had she disappeared to all day?
The engine purred as he pulled into the parking deck next to her building. Three o’clock in the morning, and here he was defying all common sense so he could see her. He’d had a ticklish feeling in his stomach all evening telling him something was wrong. It had gotten worse when he called Iris’s cell from a pay phone-she hadn’t picked up, and he hadn’t left a message. But that had spurred him to visit her store. It was a risk to keep letting himself in there, but he’d wanted to collect the gems. So much for that idea.
Now instead of tickled, his stomach felt like beavers were in there stripping the bark off trees. And the fact that Iris’s car wasn’t here didn’t help. His intestines cramped up-stress getting to him-so he parked the Trans Am and cut the engine. He’d never before thought he was getting too old for this kind of thing, but maybe he needed to reconsider. Sixty-five was still pretty spry, but now that the girls knew about each other, maybe he should stay home more. Reconnect. Be a better father.
He sure as hell hadn’t ever wanted to involve his daughters in his schemes. That had backfired, too, thanks to Mickey. That boy-
A shadow moving along the next row of cars caught Cosmo’s eye. Human, male, tall, and within another three strides, Cosmo had him pegged. “Turner.” He hit the automatic door locks just to be safe. The tinted windows would make it impossible for Turner to see him, but what was Donovan’s hired gun doing here, so close to Iris’s apartment?
Turner examined a rather nondescript dark hatchback. Giving the car a more thorough perusal, Cosmo gulped in a breath. What was Mickey Kincaid’s Prelude doing here at this hour?
He screwed his eyes shut against the obvious answer, then peeped one eyelid open. Cosmo had hoped Mickey and Iris would click, that the boy might show her a whole world existed out there beyond the safe environs of David-dom. Mickey always had been a hands-on sort of guy.
Cosmo pushed Iris and Mickey to the back of his mind. If she had Mickey with her, she was safe. But Turner wouldn’t be prowling around an upscale residential neighborhood unless he was on the hunt. Was he after Mickey? Or Iris? Or both? At the moment, it looked like Turner was trying to jimmy the trunk lock on Mickey’s car.
What Cosmo needed was a decoy. Something that would pull Turner off Mickey’s scent. Get him out of Iris’s neighborhood. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the gems, real or otherwise. All he had was a souped-up Trans Am.
And himself.
“Well, Bernie, let’s see what this mother will do.” Cosmo cranked the engine and revved it.
Turner hunkered down behind the Prelude.
Cosmo switched on the high beam headlights and rolled forward. He lowered the tinted window. “Hey, Turner! You looking for me?”
Turner recognized him immediately. Jumping to his feet, the man pulled out a gun with an obscenely long barrel length.