The rising August sun clearing the purple mountains already promised plenty of heat, but Robert Donovan never let a little sweat stop him from doing anything, and eighteen holes of golf wasn’t exactly a hardship. He studied this morning’s opponent. A member of his corporate board, Jack Vados wasn’t a visionary but he was astute with money and a potential future CFO.
His company, the Donovan Group, owned numerous hotels and gaming properties all over Las Vegas, though it barely had a toehold on the Strip, which was already crowded with iconic resorts. Without a household-name casino, his company was considered a minor player by the bigger corporations in the industry. But that was about to change. Donovan was poised to expand their global holdings, and the increased income would allow him to buy a true flagship property here.
On the fifth green he broached the topic. “The contracts for the Moscow purchase should be ready Monday morning. We’ll have the cash flow to minimize financing, right?”
“We can wire the cash in a heartbeat.” Vados lined up his shot. “But are you sure about this?”
Donovan bit back the sharp retort he would have issued in the boardroom. He always liked to play nice in public.
Vados putted and birdied the hole to the sound of chirping and the rustle of palm leaves in the warm dry breeze.
“Do you have a problem with this deal?”
Vados’s grin melted. “Not a problem, but it’s a risky venture. To buy all those abandoned Moscow casino properties now that Russia’s moved all the gambling outside the city doesn’t make sense to me. Are you sure you’re going to be able to get the zoning reversed?”
Donovan hated to be questioned on any day, but on a Saturday on the golf course in front of a couple of frat-boy caddies, it really pissed him off. Still, he kept his voice steady. “The closing of all those casinos works in our favor. Imagine it-we buy up those other resorts, and when the Russian government allows gaming back into Moscow, we’ll be sitting in the heart of a Las Vegas-style gambling center.”
“But who says they’re going to change the zoning?” Jack uncapped a water bottle. “I don’t think it’s wise to expand our holdings when so many things could go wrong.”
“Nothing will go wrong,” Donovan said flatly. He’d been quietly working on this deal for years-ever since the Russian government started legislating to close the Moscow casinos and gather them into four rural gambling zones. The land purchase on Monday would double the size of his Moscow casino, even if he did have to keep it closed for now. Every other gaming corporation was running gun-shy from Moscow, but not Donovan.
Not since he’d learned the Russian government wanted to purchase some special gems that had a cultural significance to their history. But the gems belonged to a rumored leader of the Russian mafia, and the government wouldn’t negotiate with him. Donovan had no such compunction, not when he saw such an opportunity. He’d bought the gems for the very reasonable investment of ten million dollars, and now all he had to do was donate them to the Ministry of Culture in Russia to receive their endless gratitude.
Oh yes, this under-the-table deal would ensure his Moscow casino would be zoned to reopen. He would be the only game in town. Literally.
His caddy held up a vibrating cell phone. “I’m sorry, Mr. Donovan. You said you wanted calls from Mr. Turner.”
Donovan took the phone and walked to the edge of the green for a little privacy. “Yes?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir.” Turner sounded hesitant.
Already he didn’t like where this call was headed. “Did you get them?”
“Kincaid picked up Cosmo last night, but no one’s seen either of them since. I still don’t have the-”
“Dammit!” Donovan yanked off his cap and craned his neck to the side until the vertebrae cracked. “Cosmo Fortune is a dead man, you understand?” he whispered vehemently into the phone.
“Yes, sir.”
“Let me know when you get word from Kincaid. If he’s screwed this up, I want him gone, too.” He didn’t wait for a reply but disconnected the call and tossed the phone back to his caddy. Replacing his cap, he stalked back to the ball and proceeded to line up his putt.
The sun on his shoulders soothed away some of the tension, and he concentrated on the ball, the hole, the ball, the hole, the ball-until his other problems faded away.
He sank his putt, keeping the score tied. “We’re moving on this deal on Monday.”
Vados laughed. “I wish I had your steel cojones, Robert. Frankly, I’d feel better if we had some sort of insurance on this deal.”
Donovan’s inner rage tasted of bile. He’d bought a goddamn insurance policy-spent ten million dollars on it-and Cosmo Fortune had run off with it.
Well, Cosmo was about to learn what George Halsted already knew-dead men couldn’t run far.
His coworkers might deem it an affectation, but Justin Hunter knew the herbal tea kept him calm, focused, and had already stopped his ulcers from tearing his stomach to shreds. Just because he’d topped forty didn’t mean he had to face heartburn and gastrointestinal distress. Hell, he’d had enough of that with his last partner, a man who’d finally admitted maybe he needed to see a doctor about his flatulence.
Maybe was right. Patrolling with him had meant all windows rolled down despite heat, cold, wind, dust, rain-Vegas had them all.
Justin took another sip of his mint tea, enjoying the clean, wholesome taste. So few things in this city were simple and straightforward like peppermint leaves. It almost shut out the cacophony of slot machines in the casino behind him. Almost.
He leaned against the glass doors of the jewelry shop and pondered the copper-haired beauty inside. She had a wholesome look about her, even as she pointedly ignored his presence. The tailored gray suit hugged her trim shape with clean lines while her hair was sleeked back from her face and twisted and pinned neatly at the back. One tidy little package, and he already suspected she’d be as cool and refined as the icelike gems sparkling in every glass case.
A practical, businesslike gal, his own counterpart in silk and lace, she positioned a glittering necklace on a display. He blew the steam clear of his drink, admiring her efficient precision. Lace might be too frilly for her, maybe she was more of a leather kind of person.
Man, the guys at the station were right-he needed to get out more.
Another sip of tea fortified him enough to rap on the glass, and his training helped keep the smile from his face when she glared at him. He had no trouble reading her lips as she mouthed her response.
“We open at ten.”
Cushy hours. Too bad he worked a job that stayed open twenty-four/seven. He rapped again before fishing inside his jacket for his badge while she marched toward the door.
Muffled by the glass, her words still carried to him in syllables as neatly manicured as her long pink nails.
“We don’t open until ten, can’t you read the sign?” She pointed an expressive finger-he doubted it was the one she’d really like to use-at the sign hanging near his head.
He flopped his wallet open at eye level. “Read this.”
Seeing the police badge didn’t seem to frighten her, instead she huffed and unlocked the deadbolt on the giant glass panes. “I’ve told you guys time and again I don’t buy second-hand stuff.”
“I’m sorry?” He sipped his tea before entering the shop. “You make it sound like we pop by every day.”
She relocked the door behind him and leaned against it. “Not every day, but practically. I’m not a fence, I don’t buy stolen goods, and I don’t misrepresent my work.”
He’d been wrong about her hair. The white-hot halogen lights in the store brightened it to a coppery sheen, but it was more of a bronze color, a golden red with metallic glints. Her eyes were much the same, golden brown, and flashing anger at him now.
“Before you get really worked up, I’m not here about stolen goods.” Well, not exactly. “I’m Detective Hunter, with LVMPD Homicide. Are you Iris Fortune?”
Her eyes widened, lost that spark of adversity. “Homicide? Yes, yes.”
“Is Cosmo Fortune your father?”
“Oh, God, no,” she whispered. Both hands pulled in toward her stomach as if nauseated.
While Justin empathized with her distress, he needed answers-the faster, the better. He set his tea on a display case twinkling with fiery jewels before retrieving a small notebook from his breast pocket. “Are you saying Cosmo Fortune is not your father?”
“What? No, I mean, yes, he was-is my father.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze.
He scribbled an unintelligible mark on his pad. He always committed these kinds of interviews to memory, but the note-taking lulled witnesses and suspects into paying less attention to him. Meanwhile, every nuance of body language verified or negated their stories.
Like now, when her one hand crept up to her breastbone. A gesture of concern, it told him she was worried about her father. Which led to a bigger question-did she know what he was up to?
“I need to find him. Do you have any idea where he is?”
She looked up. “Where he-you mean he’s not dead?”
Justin used the end of his pencil to scratch the back of his scalp. “I shouldn’t think so, unless you know something I don’t.” He shot her a polite smile. “Do you?”
“What kind of twisted game are you playing?” Her nervousness melted away and the pissy businesswoman returned in its stead. A shame, she was much more appealing when she was nervous.
“Miss Fortune, I don’t play games. I’m heading up a homicide investigation, and I need to find Cosmo Fortune. Anything you can tell me will be much appreciated.”
“Don’t you need a body for a homicide investigation?”
“I’ve got one of those. An older gentleman, about the age of your father and, oddly enough, found last night at the wheel of your dad’s car.”
“Cosmo must have loaned his car to someone.” She swallowed, then cocked a hip against a pedestal holding a glass vase. “I hate the thought of a car accident.”
“The car was parked. This accident involved bullets.”
Her posture faltered but she recovered quickly. “How horrible. The man who died-who was he?”
“We don’t have a positive ID on the victim yet. His pockets were empty.” Justin reclaimed his tea and strolled around the case to examine the jewelry pieces, allowing her time to fully collect herself. “How many people might Cosmo let borrow his car?”
She choked out what might have been a laugh. “Everybody and anybody.”
“That’s not much help.” The fact that she viewed him as a foe and not a friend all but shouted she knew more than she was telling. “Where were you last night?”
Her tongue licked across her lips again. “Me? I attended a political fundraiser with my fiancé, David Grantham.” She dropped the name like it was a Get Out of Jail Free card.
Close. Grantham had a lot of clout with the mayor’s office and city council. Didn’t hurt that he worked in the biggest law firm in town.
“That’s right, there was that big party at the Venetian last night. So, Grantham can verify you were there?”
“Verify-what, like I need an alibi? For what?”
“No offense. I’m just trying to do my job.”
“And why are you looking for Cosmo?” She strode toward the door.
Justin followed. “Your father is being sought in connection with this case. We believe he can shed some light on the situation, either as a witness or as a suspect.”
Iris Fortune drew her brows together like he’d sprouted wings and might leap into flight at any minute. “A suspect?”
“We found a body in his car, and your father’s disappeared.”
To his surprise, she laughed. “Detective, my father’s been disappearing since I was a little girl. There’s nothing sinister about that.”
Somehow, the brittle quality of her laugh told him differently.
“Believe it or not, I hear that every day.” Justin tucked the notebook away. “So many times the people who defend their loved ones have been totally fooled.”
“I know Cosmo.” Tawny eyes reflected her convictions.
“You don’t refer to him as Dad or Father.”
“If you knew him, you’d understand. He’s not exactly a father figure.”
“So, you can’t offer any insights on where he might be, or why he disappeared?”
Her tongue touched her upper lip as if she might say something, but she seemed to reconsider and shook her head instead. “Off the top of my head, no. Tell you what, give me your card, and if I think of something, I’ll call you.”
Justin knew she was lying but he wasn’t ready to say so to her face yet. He fished a card from his pocket. “I’ll tell you what, come down to the precinct at four this afternoon. We’ll have some photos we’d like you to go through, see if you recognize anyone.”
Her shoulders dropped as if he’d trapped her into a date to the prom. “I doubt I’m going to be able to tell you much of anything. I rarely hang out with Cosmo these days.”
“That’s all right. Between you and your sisters, maybe you’ll come up with something we need.”
Iris tilted her head to eye him suspiciously. “What sisters?”
“Your two stepsisters or half sisters or whatever. You know, Cosmo’s other daughters.”
Her nervousness reappeared, softening the planes of her face. Distrust-and fear-glinted in her eyes. “You’ve got it wrong, Detective. I’m an only child.”
Stupid ass notion to bring the rabbit home after last night.
Mickey watched Edgar flop his way toward the bowl of water on the torn linoleum. What, was he supposed to hold the animal for ransom? Place a classified in the paper? Cosmo, bring me the jewels or the bunny gets it. Like the old charlatan gave a damn about endangering others.
“Not that I’m sworn to protect you, but if we’re lucky, maybe we’ll both survive this weekend.” He finished stacking ham and swiss on a kaiser roll and took a hearty bite while the rabbit watched him, nose twitching.
“You hungry?” Hunkering down, Mickey tugged a lettuce leaf from his sandwich and held it out, knowing the rabbit hadn’t had anything to eat in over twelve hours.
Edgar blinked but didn’t approach.
Recalling how fast the animal could attack, Mickey dropped the leaf, then pulled his gun from the waistband of his jeans and used it to push the offering toward the rabbit.
Edgar shifted away from him.
“What? Oh, for God’s sake, I’m not going to shoot you any more than I was going to shoot Cosmo.”
His mother would faint at the thought of him killing a defenseless rabbit in his kitchen. But then, if she had any idea he’d gone undercover to capture a Las Vegas hit man, she’d swoon into a full coma. She and Dad thought their son was on loan in Chicago doing SWAT team training. Instead he was chasing a crackpot magician with more schemes than Wile E. Coyote up his ass, trying to lay hands on some jewels and flush out the man who’d hired all the hits.
He exhaled his frustration and rubbed a hand along the base of his neck where another headache was forming. Standing, he chewed another mouthful.
Edgar took two hops forward to sniff the lettuce. But instead of eating, he reared on his back feet, eyes bright. His ears rose straight up and swiveled, almost as if he were listening.
Alerted, Mickey abandoned his sandwich. Pulling the gun against his chest, he looked over his shoulder. The merest movement of a shadow outside the window made him dart for the wall beside the door. A split second later, someone kicked in the door, bursting its flimsy lock and splintering the frame. August heat wafted in along with his intruders.
Small and wiry as a weasel, Jock slunk through the bent door opening, as always leading with his gun in his outstretched hand.
Mickey took him out with a quick punch to the stomach that doubled him over, coughing.
Pebbles eclipsed the opening, filling the space with two hundred eighty pounds of brawn and fat. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but Mickey had a healthy respect for any man who could win a fight by sitting on his opponent. The bald-pated giant grinned. “Didn’t know you were home, Mickey.”
“Yeah? You come by to trash my place while you thought I was out?”
One hand still pressed to his side, Jock straightened. “We needed to check on you. You didn’t come in last night.”
Mickey heaved a sigh of unconcern and stuffed his gun back in his waistband. Jock and Pebbles made the most unlikely pair of thugs he’d ever met, but he’d learned to be wary of their methods. Bullies from the playground-maybe even infancy-they didn’t believe in rules or fair play. Nice when a couple guys could fall into a career made for them.
“I called Turner last night and told him I had Cosmo. You guys don’t need to worry about me. I know where the stones are, and I’ll have them in my hands in two days, maybe a bit less.”
“Where are they?” Jock brushed a hand down his tie, apparently feeling better enough to worry about his appearance.
“Ah ah ah, if I told you, what kind of insurance would I have that I’ll get paid for my part in all this?”
Pebbles scratched his scalp. Its bumpy surface must have led to his nickname. “Whatcha do with Cosmo?”
Mickey tilted his head toward the door and the parking lot below and lied. “He’s in the trunk of my car.”
“Dead or alive?” Jock asked with interest.
“Seeing as it topped a hundred and ten out there this afternoon, I’d say he’s definitely dead by now.” Mickey yawned. “Go look, if you want, just don’t let anyone see you. You guys want a beer?”
The partners shared a look. Jock shook his head, his eyes crinkling with respect and maybe a little macabre delight. He’d never liked Cosmo. “You’ll get rid of the body so no one finds it?”
“Trust me.” Hell, even he couldn’t find Cosmo right now.
“The dead guy in Cosmo’s car was a nice touch. When did you think of that?”
Mickey opened a cupboard to pull out a coffee can, the hairs on the back of his neck telling him that neither of his guests was making any move to approach him. At least now he knew Jock and Pebbles hadn’t planted the body he’d found in Cosmo’s car when he’d checked it again at four in the morning. “Yeah, I thought it would make it look more like Cosmo wanted to disappear, buy us some time.”
Jock chuckled. “Okay, you get points for that, but Turner is pissed you didn’t follow orders and bring him Cosmo last night.”
“It took me awhile to get the answers I needed-”
“Hey, what’s that?” Pebbles motioned with his gun toward the kitchen.
Edgar hopped from the linoleum onto the drab olive carpet and sniffed with disdain at what clearly wasn’t grass.
“It’s a bunny,” Pebbles said with the same delight he’d greet a monster truck rally.
Jock grinned with a flash of two gold teeth. “I never pegged you for an animal lover, Mickey.”
“It’s Cosmo’s rabbit from the act.”
“Looks like the little bunny’s out of a job.” Jock watched it sniff at his shoelaces, then nudged it away when it started to nibble his pant leg. Edgar hopped under the dining table and pooped.
Pebbles laughed. “Can I have him?”
For a second Mickey considered it, but these were the kind of guys who followed bugs around on a hot day with a magnifying glass just to see if they’d really explode. Even Edgar didn’t deserve that. “No, I’m trading him for the stones.”
The smell of urine wafted to him. From his hideout under the table, Edgar blinked a couple times.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” Jock shook his head with a fiendish grin. “He’s pissing on your carpet.”
“Whatever.” Mickey hooked a thumb at the broken door. “Not like I’m getting my deposit back.”
He felt rather than heard Pebbles creep up behind him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Jock nod once. And then his head exploded with pain, his knees buckled and he found himself nose down on the carpet. Pebbles had probably done a stint on WrestleMania when he was younger-he sure knew which vertebrae to press with his knee to keep a guy lying flat.
Jock’s shoes approached, stopping inches from his nose. “You’ve got ’til tomorrow night to bring the jewels, or you’ll be the one stuffed in a trunk. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Come on, Pebbles.”
The big guy didn’t budge. “Say uncle.”
Mickey could barely breathe as the giant added more pressure, forcing what little air was left from his lungs. “Fuck you,” he managed.
“Pebbles! Come on,” Jock ordered.
The weight lifted from his back, but then the gun slammed into his skull a second time, and by the time Mickey’s head cleared, his two assailants had left. Slowly, he rolled onto his back, checking to be sure his spine was still connected. His head pounded.
“I really need to find another line of work.”
A shuffling sound approached him followed by a gentle nuzzling in his hair. Great, Edgar had come to check on him.
“See what you’ve gotten us into?”
The rabbit hobbled around his head, sniffing and exploring, while Mickey stared at the water-stained ceiling and planned his next move. A mistake to have suggested the rabbit was a key to the jewels. But then, maybe the rabbit could help him buy some time.
“Edgar, you and I need to have another little talk with your aunt Iris.”
Releasing a frustrated huff, Iris pushed her work lamp out of the way and climbed off her stool. Her fingers ached as she slid the magnifying goggles from her face and blinked a few times to bring her vision back to real-world size. Wow, she’d been at it for over an hour. Usually focusing her energy on her work relaxed her, took her to another place. Today was a lost cause-this latest Cosmo crisis was a nightmare.
Worst of all, she couldn’t reach him. Cosmo always answered his calls or returned them as soon as possible. She’d left a message last night when she got home and another this morning after that detective had left the store.
“Iris, telephone!” Ginny, her perpetually cute assistant, stuck her head in the doorway of the store’s design studio. Seeing Iris free, she brought the cordless phone, her hand over the mouthpiece. “Someone named Mickey, and he sounds positively sinful.”
“Give me that.”
Ginny handed over the phone and waited until Iris pointed her to the door. With a laugh like some invisible fairy tickled her, she shot back out to the sales floor.
Iris waited until she was sure she was alone. Not that she had anything to hide. “Iris Fortune.”
“I hear the police visited you this morning. Guess your dad’s really MIA, huh?”
Her heart fluttered at the rich timbre of his voice. “What do you want?”
“What did he say when he called you last night?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Cosmo called you on your cell at the party last night.”
She recalled the glass of red wine and Mickey’s intense dark eyes watching her from the shadows. Squaring her shoulders, she perched on her stool. “You were spying on me.”
He laughed. “Don’t sound so outraged. Every guy in town would be spying on you if he had the chance. Now, what did he tell you?”
“He didn’t call, and I have no idea where he is. And if you keep harassing me, I’m going to tell the police about our little conversation last night.”
“No chance. If you were going to spill it about me, you would have done it already.” He sounded too cocksure of himself for her taste.
“How do you know I haven’t?”
“You wouldn’t be threatening to if you’d already done it.”
She pursed her lips, but said nothing.
“And you won’t give me up because-” Mickey’s voice dropped low. “Because, Iris Fortune, deep down, you’re worried about your dad. He may not be much, but he’s all the family you’ve got. You want him back, but you’re afraid he’s gotten himself into something so bad, the police won’t help him. You’re already thinking you might need ol’ Mickey here to help you out.”
“I am not.”
“No? Then think about it some more. I’ll look in on you later.”
“Later? Like tonight? I don’t know where I’ll be.” Recognizing the quickening of her pulse, Iris aligned her design tools into a neat row on the worktable.
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll find you.” The phone clicked and went dead.
“Damn.” Iris set the phone down with more force than she intended. She wasn’t sure whether her frustration stemmed from his threat to ruin her evening again or that he’d ended their conversation so abruptly. Neither reason was a good sign.
“Everything all right?” Ginny grinned at her from the doorway.
“Everything’s fine.”
“Oh, cuz, you know, he had a sexy voice, and now you’re agitated, and it sounds like maybe you’re seeing him later-”
The problem with having a psych major as a sales assistant was that Iris got free analysis when she least wanted it. “It’s not what you think. He’s…my cousin.” Great, another lie. First her security company, now her staff.
Ginny smirked. “Nice try. Cousins are never that sexy.”
On any other day, Ginny’s teasing would be sweet. Today, it grated on every one of Iris’s exposed nerves. “Maybe it’s best if you pay more attention to the store and less to my personal life.”
Ginny’s smile disintegrated. “Sorry, Iris, you’re right. It’s not my place. It’s just you’ve got this fairy-tale image of your life, and I’d hate to see you disappointed.” Before Iris could reply, the co-ed slipped out the door again.
Fairy-tale image of her life? She almost called the younger woman back to set her straight. Iris held no illusions of what her life was, though she did her best to pass it off as normal. What was so wrong about that?
She stood to stretch her shoulders and back, but the uncomfortable feeling dogging her was less physical and more a general uneasiness. Here she thought she’d conquered that when she declared her independence from Cosmo. Except there was no escaping her father’s shenanigans, no matter how hard she tried.
Her gaze roamed the workroom. She’d come in early to check every drawer, every case in the whole store. Nothing was missing. Why had Cosmo come here last night? The cash was all accounted for and every bit of metal and stone waited precisely where she’d left it. Had he needed a place to hide? Had he done something awful? Could that detective be right-had Cosmo killed someone last night?
No, she wouldn’t believe it. Cosmo might have been a disappointing father, but he wasn’t a killer. A double-talking, double-crossing man of tricks and schemes, Cosmo always played his greatest advantage-he believed both sides of any story, so you could never convince him he wasn’t telling the truth no matter what he said. He was like a little kid, completely disingenuous. Iris had always suspected that’s what her mother loved about him.
But the same little-kid lack of responsibility made it all the more probable that Cosmo had fathered other children without guilt. Iris had no doubts that if her mother had discovered his infidelity, Cosmo would have talked his way back into her good graces again. He lived his life like an alley cat anyway, disappearing for long periods-traveling with the magic act, so he claimed-and Mom had let him come and go without question.
Iris had left her own questions unasked, though she’d had plenty of them. By the time she was thirteen, it was obvious her father had more important things in his life than her and her mother. Iris had always steered clear of his magic act, his gambling friends, anything she felt might be competing with her for his attention. Instead, she spent her time with her mother at this shop, learning the art of crafting high-end costume jewelry. While Iris didn’t deal in diamonds, emeralds or rubies, her pieces sold for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of dollars.
And it was hers. When Mom died, Iris had inherited Lying Eyes. Cosmo had no claim on the store, the jewelry, or on her anymore. So what did it matter if he’d fathered two other girls?
It didn’t matter at all.