“He arrived maybe ten minutes ago. Wouldn’t give his name.”
“I know him. He find Kincaid with her?”
“Near as I can tell, Kincaid snuck out.” Foote struggled to dampen a smile.
“I’ll bet,” Hunter said drily. Obviously, Mickey was rubbing off on this kid, and not in a good way.
Foote cleared his throat. “I heard her voice raised, but not the businessman’s. He was dead quiet when he left.”
“Okay, you’ve got four hours, then I need you at her store at the Bellagio.”
“Yes, sir,” the kid said eagerly. “Do I need to file any kind of report?”
“No. In fact, forget everything you saw and heard.”
Cory strolled through the Four Queens’ equally empty casino. Papa wouldn’t be playing poker at this hour, but she checked the poker room anyway. A single dealer looking in need of a cup of coffee before he fell asleep from sheer boredom was the sole occupant of the playing area.
Knots formed in Cory’s stomach. Papa had never cut her off so completely before. He probably had no idea how this terrified her-or maybe he did. Maybe that’s why he’d sought her out on Saturday, so she could see for herself that he was safe. He wouldn’t just disappear without a word, not like-
Hell, she was avoiding the inevitable. Papa had one more woman besides his daughters in his life. A woman he loved and trusted. A woman who would help him, no matter the danger.
A woman only Cory knew about.
Not that she was supposed to know. Oh no, that was obvious.
Cory coursed the empty roulette wheels and craps tables, working her way deeper into the casino. Toward the back was a bar, also empty at this hour, save for some skinny girl wearing a UNLV hoodie. She was practically curled into a ball in her barstool, talking to the bartender. Poor girl had probably been here all night spilling her woes to whoever would listen.
But it was the bartender who held Cory’s attention. A woman in her early fifties, Latina, with dark hair pulled back and coiled into a bun. Few wrinkles marred her face, but her body had gotten heavier with years, giving her a matronly roundness. Her cheekbones were high and angular, her nose thin and straight. Her eyes were the color of roasted coffee beans, and she always smelled faintly of rosewater.
At least, that’s how Cory remembered her. But it had been a long time. Fifteen years. Only concern for Papa would drive Cory to speak to this woman now.
She approached the bar with the same confidence she’d face a firing squad. At her sides, her hands were tightened into fists.
The bartender looked up as she approached, and Cory watched the older woman’s eyes widen in disbelief, shock, horror.
Yeah, happy Monday morning to you, too.
“Cory,” the woman breathed.
Down the bar, the skinny woman’s head turned. “Cory? It is you. I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”
Shit, it was Allie again. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Like a turtle coming out of its shell, Allie pushed the hood back to reveal her blond hair pulled into a long braid. “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I drove up here to visit with Mrs. Livingston.”
Cory glanced at the bartender, who had the grace to blush.
“Pouring out your troubles to a barmaid, Allie?” On closer inspection, Allie’s face looked hollow and pale with fatigue, her eyes red-rimmed as if she’d been crying.
“Oh, it’s not like that. Mrs. Livingston was one of my sitters while I was growing up. I thought Daddy might have left a message with her.”
Cory looked from Allie to the bartender. “No luck, huh?”
With a swipe at the bar counter, Mrs. Livingston shook her head. “He left me a phone message Saturday afternoon. Told me he wasn’t dead yet. Haven’t heard from him since.” She licked her top lip. “Can I get you something?”
The fifteen years you owe me.
“Yeah, Cory.” Allie glanced at her watch. “Have some coffee.”
“I just got off work. I don’t want coffee.” She looked at the pink frothy beverage before Allie. “What are you having?”
“Virgin strawberry daiquiri. I’ve got class in two hours.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have one of those.”
Allie smiled. Clasping her drink, she shifted out of her barstool and came down to join Cory. They sat in silence while the blender whirred behind the bar.
When the drink arrived, complete with a tiny yellow parasol, Allie leaned forward. “Mrs. Livingston, this is one of my sisters, Corazon Fortune. Cory, this is-”
“You don’t need to introduce us,” Cory said flatly. “Mrs. Livingston there is my mother.”
Acknowledging Mickey’s disappearance and accepting it were two different things. Iris added more hot coffee to her cup while contemplating her next move. Cosmo had been at her store again last night. Had he taken something, or left something? She needed to find out.
Surely she’d be safe at her store? If she kept to the public areas of the hotel and casino and then locked herself inside, she should be fine. It would be a long time before she opened a door without being sure who was outside.
Realizing her sudden insecurity stemmed from the loss of Mickey’s comforting presence, she gave herself a good, hard mental shake. She was fine on her own. Always had been. Always would be. And she shouldn’t be standing around here doing nothing just because she’d flushed some vision of her future down the toilet.
Edgar hopped into the kitchen to eyeball her, his little pink nose twitching.
“Right. First thing, I should find your collar.” She didn’t know how, when or where Cosmo had gotten those gems, but at some point they were going to have to be returned. She could just picture it-armed guards showing up to demand the gems and there she’d be, stuck with a vacant look on her face. Well, I’m sure they’re here somewhere…
“Come on, Eddy, where’d you stash them?” Iris leaned down to rub Edgar’s silky haunches. He hopped from beneath her hand but sat up to nuzzle the pale blue cotton of her yoga pants, making her smile.
She moved slowly from room to room, scanning the floors for the collar. Part of her morning would have to be spent picking up bunny droppings and cleaning that spot near the corn plant where Edgar had peed. But that was a surface annoyance. Her deeper fears multiplied as she completed one circuit of the apartment.
The collar was nowhere in sight.
“Probably underneath something,” she muttered as she drew her hair into a ponytail and banded it. The words did little to reassure her. She lay down on her belly to look under the sofa. Nothing. Two chairs and a small ottoman later, same thing.
Her stomach tightened in knots as the obvious sank in. Pulling herself to her feet, she dashed into the bedroom to look under the bed. Flat carpet greeted her. “God, no.” Tears stung her eyes as she rolled around to sit with her back against the bed, her knees drawn up.
The collar wasn’t just missing. It was gone. And it sure as hell hadn’t walked out of here with David.
“But how could he have known?” she whispered. And then she saw the sunlight pouring in her window. Hell, Edgar must have hopped into a sunbeam-and Mickey had dressed and been out the door in ten seconds flat. He’d been playing her all night. She’d thrown herself at him, and he’d taken her to bed just to win her trust.
Her hands fisted as anger erupted. “That lying, thieving son of a bitch!” She smacked the floor, hoping to forestall the tears. Too late-a flood of them escaped on a sob.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He’d only been after the gems. Well, what had ever made her think she could capture the attention of a man like Mickey? She hadn’t even been able to hold her own father’s attention for more than a few days at a time. That’s what had made David so appealing-his attentions weren’t overt, but they also never strayed. Well, not to other women anyway. Just to work, politics, golf…