True Justice Page 17

  “You are NOT leaving this penthouse. I don’t care if you hate me, hate my guts, and try to kill me in my sleep, but you are NOT leaving.”

  Elizabeth signaled for everyone to head to their own private spaces. She knew that the man was ready to blow even more, and that was not something people should witness.

  Marital fights should be private.

  Ivan headed toward his room, and Elizabeth and Ethan did the same. The Archers went downstairs, and Dante hung up.

  If Emma thought Greyson was done, she had another thing coming.

  “I don’t care what you have to say about this. It’s done. I’m going to Riley’s place tomorrow, and I’ll ask him to come out with me. You are done investigating anything but how to grow a child!”

  He stormed away, leaving Emma to stand there with her mouth open. She placed her hand on her belly, and just stood there.

  Well, what the hell was she supposed to say to that?

  Greyson Croft, the caveman, had finally lost his damn mind.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Mountain

  Evening

  He’d been quietly sleeping against her. His fever was still up there, and she was worried. Once more, she checked the reception on her phone, and there was nothing.

  She checked the reception on his phone, and on the screensaver, there was a picture of Emma Croft and him smiling.

  Poppy had to admit that Dimitri Gideon was one hell of a sexy man. It was those eyes, and maybe that accent. He sounded dangerous.

  Then she laughed.

  He was dangerous.

  He was a freaking killer.

  Tucking his phone away, she checked his fingers to make sure they were warm. They were ice cold, and the black leather gloves weren’t going to keep them warm through the night. She pulled off her fur-lined mittens and slipped them onto his hands. Pulling on his, she held him tighter and wrapped her body around his. He was shaking again, and she needed to get him warm.

  This was becoming a very bad situation.

  When he began moaning, she thought she was hurting his shoulder. She readjusted them and placed him closer to the fire. She was torn.

  Fever or hypothermia.

  Tonight sucked.

  “Emma,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  She listened.

  “I love you.”

  “I have you,” she said, holding him. He moved closer to her body. His bigger frame was over hers. When he opened his eyes, he was staring down at her.

  “Anastasia, keep me warm,” he whispered, right before his mouth found hers.

  Poppy held on for one hell of a kiss. It was the kind you’d never forget, the kind that made you wet, and she was there.

  Holy shit.

  She was totally there.

  His mouth worked over hers, and her body was trapped beneath his. He was rock-hard too.

  Jesus.

  Well, this would keep them both warm.

  She had to be insane.

  Dimitri kissed her some more, and then his hands wandered, sliding against her skin beneath her winter coat.

  Now she wished she hadn’t given him those mittens. She’d love to feel his hands on her—even encased in leather.

  “Mr. Gideon, stop,” she whispered when he was grinding his erection against her.

  Okay, it was halfhearted.

  She didn’t really want him to do that.

  Sue her. She was a flagrant hussy. If he wasn’t injured, she’d likely let him have his wicked way with her.

  At his name, he opened his eyes and blinked, trying to figure out what was going on. His hands were inside Poppy’s jacket, under her shirt, and touching…

  He moved them.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know…”

  She placed her fingers over his lips. “Just get through this alive, okay? Just don’t die, and you can kiss me anytime you want. I think your fever broke,” she said.

  His eyes looked clearer.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked. “I can make you soup. I hike with packets.”

  Suddenly, he was very hungry—just not for food. He felt like touching her more. He genuinely wanted her, and it boggled his mind.

  She was a cop—one of the good guys.

  He was a killer.

  They should repel each other, but she’d actively participated in that kiss.

  He knew when a woman wanted him, and she definitely did. This was new.

  “I’m confused.”

  “I’m Poppy. Remember? I found you.”

  He looked at her hands.

  Then his.

  “Why am I wearing a pair of mittens? I’m pretty sure I’d never do that willingly.”

  She laughed.

  It was the first time in hours. He was pulling through. He just needed some rest.

  It gave her hope.

  “Your hands were really cold. I was trying to keep you from getting frostbite.”

  He took her hands in his and blew on the leather.

  Oh, she heated up fast.

  Poppy could still recall what he tasted like, and somehow, she didn’t think she’d ever forget it. Dimitri Gideon was something freaking amazing. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time anyone made her feel anything close to this.

  Too damn bad they were likely going to die on the mountain…

  “Thank you,” he said. “I would love some soup,” he offered, moving off of her body. The second he did, he missed touching her.

  “A cop, huh?”

  He couldn’t remember everything. It was a jumble clouded by the pain, but he recalled that.

  She helped him sit up, and she tucked her sleeping bag around him to keep him warm. Pulling off her gloves, she grabbed a collapsible cup she hiked with and began boiling the water.

  “I’m investigating your sister’s murder.”

  His whole demeanor changed at the flick of a switch. Mental note, not to bring that up again—until they got off the mountain.

  He went from a man who had been kissing her to a man who was ice cold.

  “You’ll want to stop investigating that, Detective,” he said, his accent thick.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m going to kill him, and if you stick your nose into it, I’ll have to kill you too.”

  Well, that said it all.

  So much for the fantasy of that kiss.

  Chapter Five

  Sky Villa

  I n their room, Greyson pulled out his phone and made the call. He’d never been angrier in his whole life, and he was about to really lose his cool. That was saying a great deal, considering he had been in charge of agents in a hub. Not once had he ever lost it, and that was with five hundred different personalities all at once.

  Yet, his mother…

  Greyson was a calm man. He was accustomed to being under so much pressure and not losing his mind.

  Until now.

  Reggie…

  She’d crossed a huge line.

  Dialing, he heard her voice on the phone, and that only added fuel to his already raging fire.

  “Greyson? Are you okay?”

  “I saw your interview.”

  “You did?” she asked. “How did I look?” Reggie asked, perking right up.

  Oh, this only pissed him off even more. This was typical Reggie behavior.

  Of course she was focused on how she looked and not the ramifications of what she’d done.

  Before he could say anything, she cut him off.

  “It’s late. I need my beauty sleep. This couldn’t wait? Your father and I were asleep in bed.”

  Since this was going to be the LAST time he ever spoke to her again…no. It couldn’t wait.

  “No, it can’t. I have never been more disgusted by someone’s behavior than yours, Reggie. I have NEVER been more hurt, angry, and devastated by someone being totally clueless about what is going on in the world.”

  “Greyson…”

  “No, shu
t it, Reggie! You went on a rag tabloid to discuss Emma and my child.”

  “I was just happy.”

  “Do you know that someone is trying to kill my wife all day long, every damn day, and all I think about is how to keep her fucking alive?”

  “Greyson!”

  “You just painted a target on her. We didn’t fucking tell anyone, Reggie, because we didn’t want someone to try and up the game and kill her—with my child. You just killed your own fucking grandchild with your lack of compassion, selfishness, and inability to be a mother.”

  He could hear her crying.

  “You should cry. You turned your sons against you, and you took private information about our family and you flaunted it on some rag tabloid! If anyone hurts Emma and my child, or if you just caused their deaths, I’ll never forgive you!”

  “I told one friend and she spread it,” she stated.

  “That’s even worse. You couldn’t keep it shut. You couldn’t be a mother for once. Instead, you had to be the center of the fucking show. You could have told that tabloid no we weren’t pregnant. To save my child, you could have lied and made this about the baby’s life and not your fucking need to be the center of the fucking production!”

  Emma watched him from the door.

  She’d never seen him this angry.

  This over the edge.

  While he’d curse, he’d never berate and go on a tirade quite like this. This was some big-time anger.

  “You risked my wife. I don’t care what you do to me, say about me, or gossip about, but the minute you put a bull’s-eye on my wife, and child, you’ve crossed a dangerous line. If anything happens to my wife or my child, you will be sorry. I will dump so much hellfire and brimstone on you that you will regret dad not pulling out!”

  He was so furious.

  “Don’t contact me ever again. I’m dead to you, Reggie. I’m no longer your son. I’m severing the bonds. I’ve tolerated your cruelness. I’ve sucked up you insulting my wife, but the second you risked my child, my little baby still struggling to grow! You crossed a dangerous line. You risked my legacy, and now, I’m going to risk yours. Goodbye, Reggie. Don’t darken my door. If you do, the tabloids will have an earful, and it will start with how you were a selfish, horrible mother who spent more time doing her nails than loving her kids.”

  There was a gasp.

  “GOODBYE!”

  He hung up.

  Then he headed for the wall and put his fist through it.

  Not once.

  Not twice.

  Three times—until his knuckles were bloody and broken open from the force of his anger.

  Then, he dropped to his knees.

  The tears came. They came fast, wickedly, and overwhelmed him. As he knelt there, for a few minutes, weeping, he heard her. She came in and closed the door. Kneeling beside him, she placed the bag of ice on his hand that she’d run to get when he flipped out.

  He stared down at it through the tears.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “For?” she asked, holding the ice on his knuckles. “What did you do?”

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you earlier. I had no right to embarrass you in front of everyone. I know better, and I shouldn’t aim my anger at you.”

  She kissed him on the cheek.

  “I get it.”

  “I’m scared.”

  Greyson Croft being afraid was scary for her. He was so strong in the storm, and now…

  “I’ll stay in.”

  “It’s okay. The damage is done. Reggie put it out there, and I’ll keep you safe. I’ll use my body as a shield. I’ll protect you even if I die just to have my son born. I love him so much. I love him more than I have ever known I could love someone.”

  She listened as his hand went to her belly.

  “I think about him all the time. I picture him on his first bike, and when he knocks out his front teeth because I know I did it.”

  She listened more.

  “I picture him sneaking that first cigar, and trying it. I picture holding his head as he pukes because he will because I did that too.”

  Emma wiped his tears.

  “I picture him finding that first girl, and having her break his heart, and then me having to kill her.”

  She laughed.

  So, did he.

  “I have never loved someone so unconditionally until now. The love for a child is so different than any other love. I will kill to protect you, but I would slaughter people, and laugh while doing it to protect my son.”

  She didn’t doubt that.

  Emma knew her cave-Croft.

  “That’s what a mother feels.”

  “Then why the hell is my mother unable to get that? She threw us to the wolves.”

  “She doesn’t like me, Greyson. It’s not you. It’s me. We all know it was sunshine and roses that day you were in the hospital in Celestia, but the second we eloped…she couldn’t have the wedding of HER dreams. She couldn’t play the mother of the groom, and it’s all been downhill.”

  He flexed his fingers.

  “Did you break anything?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I shouldn’t have put holes in the wall. I’d kick my son’s ass for doing that.”

  Emma kissed him on the cheek and soothed his pain with love.

  “Let’s lie down for a while.”

  He helped her up, pulled off her shoes, and helped her get naked and climb into bed. He cuddled her.

  “Will you be okay without me?” she asked.

  Emma knew she could go out, and risk her husband having a stroke, or she could stay in and work on finding something to get everyone responsible for the sex trafficking. The picture of him using his body to shield her made her ill.

  He was right.

  At that moment, she was the BIGGEST target next to Kat and Dimitri. If it were her telling him to stay safe, she’d only hope that he’d listen.

  Well, she would.

  “Really? You’ll stay in after how I just behaved?” he asked, waiting for the trick.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Because you will throw yourself over me, and if you died, I’d die. Then our son wouldn’t be born. That’s the more important part of all of this. We have to be careful, and we have to see Mac born.”

  He nuzzled her, as he pulled them closer together under the blankets.

  Finally, he felt like he could breathe.

  It had been a while.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Across Vegas

  Robert Lee’s Home

  Evening

  He was stirred up. When Robert returned home, he made one call. It was the only call he made and from a burner phone. The shit was hitting the fan in Vegas.

  Ethan Blackhawk was there, and it was going to be bad.

  REAL BAD.

  Now was about saving as much of this as he could. It was about making sure he got away clean.

  So, when he called him—to tell him that the eagle had landed, he prepped for the worst-case scenario.

  If he had to get out, he would.

  He told the man who was helping Rosemary Harrington that he was out. He was done helping them by turning a blind eye. Yes, the case being dropped on his step was nice.

  The ramifications…not so nice.

  So, he was done.

  As he stood in his living room, pacing back and forth, he didn’t think the man would come to his home. As he stood there tossing back bourbon like it was going out of style, he heard the telltale knock.

  In the kitchen.

  “Oh, Jesus,” he muttered, as he headed there.

  When he got there, he could see the man’s face through the window, and he looked concerned.

  “Let me see to make sure you don’t have a gun!” he said, not trusting the man. He was sneaky, and Robert wanted to live.

  He turned, lifting his jacket.

  There was no gun.

  Nothi
ng.

  He unlocked the door.

  “Christ, Robert! I got your message. What the hell is going on?” he asked as he came in and pushed the door closed with his ass—so he didn’t touch the knob.

  “Blackhawk showed up, he’s told Commissioner Raye that his wife is taking over a couple cases, and one of them is the trafficking one.”

  The man wasn’t nearly as worried.

  “We’re good. I’m in deep.”

  He shook his head.

  “They have all the files.”

  That caused him to pause.

  “You gave them to him?” he asked.

  “I had no choice. He would have found them. The man is tenacious, and his wife is a bitch.”

  Well, he didn’t disagree there.

  “What do they know? My name?” he asked.

  The man shook his head.

  “Rosemary paid for your anonymity, and she got it. You’ve been wiped.”

  He grinned.

  Well, that made him happy.

  “I’m in trouble. If they bring me in…all that money is in my bank account! I’m screwed.”

  The man headed toward him and patted him on the shoulder with fake concern.

  “Okay, calm down. Let’s be rational. How can we work through this and save your ass?”

  “I don’t know!” he said, beginning to pace.

  Oh, well, he did.

  “You’re the only link, Robert. We just have to get you free and clear of this, and they won’t find us, they won’t find Storm St. Clair, and they won’t find evidence. I’ll handle it.”

  “Really?” he asked, turning around right in front of the man.

  “Absolutely!”

  He closed his eyes.

  In that one moment, he took the opportunity to drop the knife from inside his sleeve. Then he plunged it into his stomach, driving it up.

  The man gasped and stumbled back onto the island. Then he stared down at him.

  “I’m sorry, Robert, but you can’t go to an interview with the Blackhawks. You’re weak. You have to die before you squeal like a pig or spill your guts.”

  He laid there as he began hemorrhaging on the island.