Paid Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 3) Page 18

Texxxas laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  Emma held out her hand. Chris pulled his wallet from his pocket and she dug out one of ‘Aquarius’s’ cards.

  “I’m going to write something on the back of this. Tomorrow, you take this to this club, you ask for Dimitri, and you let him read the back. He’s going to get you out.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. He’ll give you an honest job where you won’t have to be blowing men on the side. It’s not safe in Vegas, especially if you’re prey.”

  Texxxas took the card, and she didn’t know what to say. Finally, she went with her heart. “Thank you. I don’t want to die.”

  “We don’t want you to die either. I’ll have him notified that you’re coming. You can do this, Betty.”

  Emma fished the rest of the money out of her pocket, and handed it to the woman. She closed her hands. “Your kids need you. I want you to live to see thirty.”

  She began crying.

  Emma hugged her.

  “You look sick. You should go home,” she said. “There’s a bug going around,” she said, giving the woman a way to escape.

  The woman nodded. She slipped off her heels. “I’m going to go pay my rent and take my kids for a pizza when they get home. Thank you.”

  She headed out.

  Chris didn’t say anything.

  “I have hand sanitizer in the ride,” she said, trying to compose herself. It wasn’t easy. The cop in her knew the statistics, and she only prayed Betty could beat the odds.

  “You saved someone,” Chris said. “You’re doing good,” he admitted. “This is why I followed you and Greyson.”

  Then why did she feel like she was fighting a losing battle that was against the odds?

  Chris lifted her chin. “Hey, honey, do you need a hug?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  In that dirty strip club, Chris held her in his arms, and let her cry.

  He got it.

  He didn’t need to ask why she wept.

  He knew.

  They’d saved one, but more would fall through the cracks.

  Vegas was hard to save.

  It was damn near impossible.

  Chapter Eight

  Sunday

  Afternoon

  G reyson was feeling horrible about what he’d done. Maybe he shouldn’t have stuck Emma and Chris with the sleazy strip club. He knew it was a dirty trick, and he should know better, but he was sick of being the bad guy.

  Yes, Emma was his wife, and he wanted to protect her, but sticking her with that place was a cheap tactic to get out of it.

  Now that he’d had her call, and he thought it through, he felt like shit.

  “You’re overthinking it,” Dimitri said, knowing what he was stressing. Whenever Greyson was worked up, he got that look on his face.

  “On our way home, I have to stop and get Emma a present.”

  Dimitri laughed. “She practically owns a jewelry store. I think you’ve bought her off enough.”

  He glanced over. “I just sent them to a strip club. What the hell is wrong with me? Why would I do something like that? I’m supposed to protect her, and I just sent her into an STD hellhole.”

  Dimitri tried to calm his nerves.

  Really, it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like someone was shooting at them. They were just talking to strippers.

  Here was why love was bad.

  It twisted you up inside.

  “You gave them an interview while you took a home search. It’s not that bad. You didn’t want to be the cheating asshole for once. She gets it.”

  “Yeah, but she’s going to look like the cheater.”

  Dimitri laughed. “Well, yes, she likely will, but we don’t listen to the media.”

  No, but Emma was the only good thing in his life, and he’d just sent her to a strip club, and with another man.

  Besides, Dimitri said, “What are the chances anything will go wrong?”

  Greyson looked over.

  “Seriously?”

  He laughed.

  “Hey, I’m trying. If you’re looking for a pep talk, you’ve come to the wrong place. I was stabbed last night. I’m having a shit week.”

  “I said I was sorry. Are you going to make me relive that for the rest of my life?” Marissa asked from the back seat.

  Dimitri grinned into the mirror. “Yes, I plan on rehashing it until I stab you. Then we’re even.”

  “Great.”

  His phone rang, and Greyson checked it out. A part of him wished it was Emma again, so he could apologize.

  It wasn’t.

  “It’s that burn number,” Greyson said, right before taking the call.

  “Riley? What’s up?” Croft asked.

  “Yeah, I did what you asked. I just finished checking out the pictures before I sent them to Emma.”

  “Wait. What? Why were you sending pictures to Emma? She’s interviewing strippers,” Greyson asked, putting it on speaker.

  “She said she had something huge, and she needed all the Jane Doe photos.”

  Dimitri saw the look on Marissa’s face as she listened to the conversation. Immediately, he elbowed Greyson, to give him the heads up.

  This was why she couldn’t ride along tomorrow. It was hard to do their job when they couldn’t be open and have a conversation. They didn’t need her thinking that they assumed Julie was dead.

  Greyson got it. They had a third set of ears that shouldn’t be privy to their conversations.

  “Hold on, Riley. Can you pull over, Dimitri?” he asked, pointing at the side of the street.

  Dimitri didn’t hesitate.

  When he parked, Greyson hopped out, and he was right behind him. There was no way he was going to let Greyson stand on the street without him watching his back.

  “Stay here,” Dimitri told Marissa, giving her a look. It said it all.

  “You’re bossy.”

  “I am your boss,” he stated. “So I get to be bossy. It’s part of the job.”

  She closed her mouth.

  Both men met on the curb, and Greyson continued the call with the detective.

  “Sorry about that, Riley. We weren’t alone. You are clear now. Go ahead.”

  He picked up where he’d left off, explaining about his and Emma’s conversation.

  “All I know is she said she had something, and that she’d get back to me. She sounded jazzed.”

  Now Greyson was really freaked out.

  Dimitri patted him on the back.

  What the hell had he been thinking? He’d given his wife the strip club because it was safer, and he didn’t expect her to actually do any sleuthing. He was damn sure that Emma wouldn’t find anything pertinent.

  Her safety was always paramount.

  The pimp was dead.

  All she had to do was question some women.

  But shit…

  She’d found something.

  “She said she’d call me back, but I haven’t heard from her yet. What’s going on?”

  “I’ll call her and find out. Are any of the women Julie Pierce?” he asked.

  “Nope. They aren’t. I checked.”

  Well, that was good and bad news. That meant the hunt continued, and there was a chance that Julie was still alive.

  “I’ll call you back.”

  When he hung up, Dimitri tried to calm him down. “You have to chill out. You’re making it worse than it is.”

  Was he?

  His wife was out playing cop, and he wasn’t by her side. Yeah, he trusted Chris, but come on!

  He’d screwed this up.

  Greyson hit the picture of his wife’s face on his phone. It went right to voicemail, and that didn’t help his freak out. In fact, it only added to it.

  He called again.

  Nothing.

  Here’s where the Croft meltdown began. If he didn’t get a hold of her, he’d let his imagination begin running wild.

  Dimitri was just about to pull his phone and
call Chris when it began ringing in his pocket.

  He pulled it out.

  It was Emma.

  “Hey! Are you safe?” Dimitri asked as Greyson stopped pacing on the sidewalk.

  “Well, I may have rabies from this place, but I’m good. Why?” she asked.

  “Is she mad at me?” Greyson asked.

  “Are you made at…?” He stopped and handed him the phone. This was too weird for him. There was no way he was playing intermediary in this game.

  “Honey!”

  “Grey, what’s wrong?”

  “Are you okay? I just called you.”

  “Yeah, I’m good. I was dialing Dimitri. I figured you’d be side by side. You know, riding off to the nice, clean, happy search while your wife did the dirty job.”

  “Uh, yeah, about that.”

  “Greyson.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She laughed. “I got to make out with Chris, and I sat in his lap. Who’s laughing now?”

  Dimitri did.

  Chris did too.

  “I’m going to hurt him at home.”

  She snorted. “No, you won’t. You know how the media is. He’s a good kisser. Not as good as you, but eh, a woman can’t be choosy when her husband screws her over with the grunt work so he looks good in the end.”

  Greyson was busted, and he knew it.

  Dimitri, on the other hand, was willing to play along. He enjoyed tormenting the man beside him.

  It was brotherly.

  “If you’re rating kissing, how did I do?” Dimitri asked. “You know, after we slept together.”

  Greyson stared at him.

  “Really?”

  Emma was amused.

  “You get an A plus, my Russian stud. I look forward to doing it again.”

  Croft got it.

  This was his punishment.

  It was a lesson learned.

  “Are you done busting my ass?” Greyson asked. “It seems you forgot I get bitchy when men are playing ‘Kiss Croft’s wife’.”

  “Well, about that. The media kinda caught us getting down and dirty.”

  “EMMA!”

  She snorted. “I’m sure it’s already on the news. You know how I get when my husband screws me over giving me the shitty interview that he thinks will be a waste of time. How very FBI director of you, Greyson.”

  Of course he had to fall in love with a very smart woman who would call him on his shit.

  Perfect.

  “Tell your ex-bodyguard I’m going to kill him.”

  Chris was still laughing. “Tell your sneaky husband I had to cup a stripper’s tit in there, and it’s not all sunshine and rainbows.”

  Dimitri stopped laughing. “You cheated on my sister with a stripper?” he asked.

  “I asked permission first. Well, to make out with Emma, but she was cool. Chill, commie. My bases are covered. I’m not new to this game.”

  Dimitri sputtered.

  Emma was amused. “Anyway, two things. Dimitri, you have a woman by the name of Betty Elder heading to ‘Aquarius’ tomorrow. She’s selling tricks in the club. She has two kids, and I am getting her out. I need your help.”

  He smiled.

  Yeah, this was family.

  “I’ll handle it. I have a few openings where I can place her. I’ll make sure she’s handled for you.”

  “Thank you, Dimitri. I knew I could count on you. She’s doing it to support her kids. Save her.”

  Oh, he would.

  “If you can’t find one, send her to Dante. He can use another assistant. We run his ragged. She’s street smart, and she won’t put up with his shit. That’s always a plus.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  She snorted.

  Greyson was listening, and he was proud of his wife. At least something good came out of that interview he’d dumped on her.

  And she didn’t seem too mad at him.

  “So you were out saving strippers?” he asked.

  “Well, and I found something interesting. Guess who tied two dead girls on Riley’s desk to a strip club, a sex smuggling ring, and a missing girl.”

  He stared at the phone.

  “WHAT?”

  “I think we have a sex smuggling ring going on right under your mob-y nose, Greyson. Someone is peddling young girls.”

  That horrified him.

  While he was running Vegas, he was keeping the criminals at bay. They thought he’d kill them all, and that made them careful with what kind of businesses they ran.

  He didn’t tolerate drugs.

  He didn’t tolerate sex trafficking.

  Clearly, someone didn’t get the memo.

  “I’m taking the strip clubs from here on out,” Greyson stated. “Emma, don’t take this the wrong way, but get your ass to Terrace Glen. I don’t need you poking a sex ring with your ex-cop fingers.”

  “I’ll use Chris’s.”

  “EMMA!”

  “Okay, take a pill, cranky. You sent me here. I don’t know why you thought once I was ‘with child’ I’d lose my ability to think like a cop. You were way off base on this one.”

  Yes, he had been, and now he was rectifying that little error. His wife was not screwing with a sex ring. It put all kinds of horrible pictures in his head.

  “And now I’m sending you home.”

  “You may want to rephrase that, or you’ll be sending me over the edge, and there’s only one person who isn’t afraid of you.”

  Dimitri raised his hand but said nothing.

  “Not you, Dimitri. Don’t be a smart ass,” Emma said.

  He looked around.

  It’s like she knew, or had eyes on them—which was impossible.

  “I’m talking about me. So, I’m going to go home, and I’m going to get the family to start picking this apart. I don’t think we have one girl gone astray. I think we have a sex trafficking ring, and not the reverse one that Dimitri runs. Someone is filtering in young flesh, and pedaling it. We have to find Anthony Delmarco. Lose your baggage.”

  They knew who she meant.

  Marissa.

  “We are going to be playing in some not so nice places. I have the next strip club name.”

  Greyson was not amused. “Chris?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Take her home. I don’t care if you have to sit on her. Get her ass back behind the gates!”

  Emma objected.

  He shut her down, and she could hear it in his voice. Greyson was worried about something, and this was bigger than her playing in a strip club.

  “What’s the big freak out?”

  He figured he owed her, and it might convince her that they had a huge issue on their hands.

  “When I was still with the FBI, we had a mole go missing. She was sold off into the trade. We thought we lost her. She turned up dead, and we couldn’t figure out how it happened. Someone inside the FBI was helping—or that was what I thought. After I left, Director Lee muddied up the investigation. It’s been going nowhere. That rat is in the clear, and it’s still an ongoing Fed investigation. If you poke at the sex trade hive, you may get stung by a bunch of FBI hornets.”

  She whistled.

  And she got it.

  If they investigated, they were dropping themselves right into FBI territory, and that would be like a gift for Robert Lee.

  Yeah, they had an issue.

  Dimitri was appalled. “You have someone on the inside of the FBI selling women to the highest bidders?” he asked.

  “We can’t confirm, but the second we start poking this mess, the Feds are going to be all over me. I have the files at home. They’re not full because I couldn’t get enough to get a sting.”

  Emma got it.

  It might get dicey, and none of them could risk that. They already had vans outside their home, their attorney filing harassment suits, and every Fed in the city pointed at them.

  It was time to regroup until they had a plan.

  She was going to follow his order, even if
she didn’t like being bossed around.

  “Well, then I’ll meet you at home. You might want to head in yourself as soon as you search that apartment. We have to warn the family. If this case is going to lead to screwing with the FBI, we are risking a lot.”

  He was aware.

  He didn’t want to play with the FBI. They were leaning on him as it was, and that made it hard to do their jobs.

  Speaking of jobs…he was regretting taking this one—not because he didn’t want to help the women disappearing, but he had to worry about their family.

  His wife.

  The men he called brothers.

  The baby growing in Emma.

  The FBI could get mean, and they were already making their lives uncomfortable.

  “I’ll see you at home in an hour. We will make sure we get in, and fast.”

  “I love you both. Be safe.”

  She hung up.

  “I don’t like tangling with the Feds,” Dimitri stated. “It puts us in the spotlight, and that makes me nervous.”

  Yeah, him too.

  This was going to be bad. He could tell. While he would never have a problem risking himself, he knew the cost was too high.

  He needed help.

  “I have to make this call.”

  Dimitri stood beside him, scanning the area. He was feeling off. There was something not kosher, and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

  But what?

  As Greyson dialed, he crossed his fingers. He had one shot at getting some help on this one, and it was going to be a risk.

  For him, and for the man.

  “Deputy Director Blackhawk.”

  “Ethan?”

  There was a pause the second he recognized his voice. “Hold on.”

  It got quiet.

  There was the sound of a door closing.

  “What’s going on?” Ethan asked. “It’s not like you to call me.”

  “I have something hypothetical to ask you.”

  “From a mob boss to a Deputy Director of the FBI, or to Ethan Blackhawk.”

  “Oh, this is definitely the first one, and that’s why it’s a little tricky.”

  Ethan didn’t like the sound of that.

  While he really liked Greyson, he knew that any communication with him was dangerous. Technically, they were on different sides.

  “Shoot.”

  “Does the FBI have any sex trafficking operations going on in Vegas?”