Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Read online

  He’d frozen out their love.

  And built an ice wall between them.

  “Anyone hungry?” Briggs offered. “We can get a pizza.” Now, he knew he was reaching as he tried to get them back together again. Maybe dinner would be the catalyst that could get them to talk it out and forgive what was damaging them.

  “We’re leaving,” Croft demanded, not giving Emma a choice to stay or go.

  Her temper began growing. If he wanted to be angry, that was one thing, but to order her around was completely unacceptable to her. “No thank you, Curtis, but I appreciate you asking. It’s nice to be thought of as a thinking, breathing person, and not an object that can be bossed around.”

  The man nodded, knowing that the attempt had back fired big time and probably made it worse- if that was possible. “Okay, Emma. I’ll see you both later then,” he said, unsure if he should stay there tonight. It might be the next world war. Did he really want to die in the crossfire?

  Standing, Emma followed her husband out of the office and through the squad room. At her desk, she grabbed her purse and firearm. “I’m ready,” she said softly.

  “I hope so,” he replied, filled with irritation, fury, and so much more.

  She let it go. This wasn’t the time or the place for anyone to be fighting, especially over personal matters best left at home. Allowing the relationship into the mix had already caused this mess in the first place. Oh, that and a pigheaded, bossy, stubborn husband stirring the pot.

  In Emma’s Navigator, they sat in total silence. Every now and then, she’d glance over at his face, noticing the stony silence etched in his features. To see his anger, she needed only to glance down at his hand on the gearshift and observe his white knuckled grip. At one point, she reached for him, trying to hold his hand. Emma was offering a bridge between them to find a neutral ground, but that didn't work. He’d refused to even touch her, further breaking her heart.

  The hurt alone, that action caused, wounded her like no words ever could. Yeah, there was a big storm on the horizon.

  Once past the garage check in, there was still no talking as they rode the elevator up to the lobby. Both bid the guard goodnight as if nothing was wrong in ‘marriage-land’. Once in the second elevator, he finally chose to speak.

  “I’ve never been angrier at anyone in my life,” he stated as the door opened and they moved towards their condominium.

  Emma could tell. She didn't need the statement to let her in on the big Croft Tsunami, waiting to destroy everything in its path.

  “Gee, I hadn’t noticed. Talk about missing the obvious.”

  The look he gave her was made of pure ice. “I’m glad you find the destruction of our marriage something to be sarcastic about, Emma. This isn’t a joke.”

  “Fine, then let’s talk about it.” She wasn’t sure he actually would, but there was the chance if he got it off his chest they could work it out.

  “You lied to me. You looked me right in the eyes and blatantly lied to your husband. What kind of wife does that?” he demanded, throwing down his leather messenger bag on the couch.

  Here it came.

  “Do we mean that little to you?” he raged.

  “I didn't have a choice,” she began, hoping he’d let her get it out before he irrationally exploded. Emma knew if she could just get him to hear the truth, he’d understand. Greyson, if anything, was a hyper-rational human being, unless he was swallowed with anger.

  Like right now.

  “We all have a choice! You decided to lie to me instead of being honest. I’ve never, ever, taken that road with you. I thought,” he paused, staring at her as he tried to put it into words. “I hoped our marriage was based on two people who wouldn’t ever be deceitful towards one another. That there wasn’t anything in our lives that could stop us from being a unified front.”

  “It is based on that, Greyson.”

  “It was, Emma,” he corrected. “It had been until you lied to me.” Croft stared at her, waiting for her to understand how upset he truly was inside over this.

  She got that sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Are you saying our marriage is over? Because I didn't tell you the truth, you’re willing to throw it and us away?” Right then and there, she wanted to toss her cookies. It was a testament to her strength and resolve, that she managed to stay calm on the outside.

  He said nothing as he weighed her words in his mind. “I’m saying I’m going to take a shower. I had a gay man cry all over me today, and I’m covered in the stench of death. I don’t care to talk to you right now.”

  She watched him storm away. Her heart cracked open in her chest as he slammed the bathroom door in their room. The tears began pouring down her face as she ached for what was lost. Going to her bedroom, she pulled out a travel bag and grabbed everything that she’d need to sleep elsewhere. From her drawer, Emma pulled one of his t-shirts. It was the last one she had that smelled like his cologne. It had become her little fetish and was now the only thing she had left of him. She was hoarding her husband’s clothing for an emergency.

  This appeared to be just that.

  Packing it up, she listened to the water in the shower. When she checked the knob, it was locked. Emma stood there unsure what to do and finally decided to go for it and knock. This was marriage, so you fought for it. You had to try to save it no matter what. Emma intended to give it one more shot and not quit.

  “Go away! I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  His words cut at her heart that he’d viciously hurl them at her. She’d never throw such bitterness at him. Even if he hurt her, she’d never turn him away.

  He mattered to her, and his actions meant one thing in her mind.

  Emma was now being tossed aside.

  “Okay, Grey,” she whispered as more tears fell. Grabbing her overnight bag, she had no other option. If that’s what he felt was warranted, she would give him exactly that. All the fight was gone as her heart and soul were wounded.

  Her husband didn't want her anywhere near him.

  This was a cruel, devastating blow to her life. In fact, she was willing to call it crushing. The man she came to rely on and placed all her faith in had dropped her to walk away.

  Entering the kitchen, she pulled down a sheet of paper off the refrigerator. On it, she scribbled one line and then slipped her wedding rings off her finger to tuck them safely inside the folded note.

  The day he proposed in the airport, he’d gotten down on one knee and opened the ring box. The second she’d seen it, her heart pounded. It was made for her, and he’d seen the real woman beneath the shell. Now, she was giving them back, until he once again saw what he’d pushed away.

  Grabbing her files, she bent down to scratch Hairy under the chin. Normally, he’d purr, but even he appeared to be mad. “I get it. You’re his cat, and I pissed you off now too,” she stated, taking her keys and closing the door behind her.

  Greyson Croft threw down the lines in this battle. He didn't want her there, so be it. It was up to him to decide where their marriage went from here. It was his anger and vicious words.

  For now, it was out of her hands. Emma had tried to hold them together, but she couldn’t force him to meet her halfway. Until he was willing, she was essentially homeless.

  Walking out of the elevator, William looked up from the desk. “Are you all right, Mrs. Croft?” he asked with his voice full of concern. The woman looked as if she was crying. “Do you need my help with your bag?”

  Emma shook her head as she continued to her vehicle. If she spoke, the tears would begin again. No one could help them now. Only one man could fix this or leave it broken.

  Driving out of the garage, Emma glanced back in the mirror at the life she was abandoning. No, correction, the life she was booted from. Her heart shattered a little more as the pain ate away at what was left of her soul.

  Staring down at her bare finger, Emma went out into a city that she only came to for him, and had to wonder--w
hat was coming next and could she possibly traverse it alone?

  * * *

  Briggs sat at the table with a pizza between them and zero conversation. The silence was heavy and incredibly awkward. He didn't know how to talk to the woman, and every time he tried, he thought about her and the head lab tech.

  Finally, Brynn couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you mad at me for some reason? Because I keep trying to replay the last two days, and I don’t know what I did.”

  “I’m not mad.” It was true, he wasn’t. He was confused, worked up, and tormented by the things in his head.

  “You seem angry,” she stated, touching his arm and watching him jump as if burned.

  He stared at her. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he replied. What he wanted to tell her was the complete and total truth. How he was furious she’d been staring at some man with big girly google-eyes, but what right did he have?

  Again, they weren’t dating or a couple. Even to himself, he sounded like a jackass. How would she hear it?

  Before she could open her mouth, her phone began ringing. It was a number she just recently added for work related reasons. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take this.” Since she was well aware of what had him pissed off, it would be best to not stir the pot more.

  He nodded as he watched her walk out. A sigh broke free and Curtis decided if Brynn brought it up again, he’d bite the bullet and tell her the truth. This entire situation had him off balance and out of his element. Something had to be in the water here in Vegas, it was screwing with his mind. That had to be it, or maybe he was just sexually frustrated. One way or the other, he was a man on the edge.

  Yeah, he completely understood how his boss felt most of the time that he was pursuing Emma.

  Boy did it suck.

  Brynn stood in the hall to take the call. “Detective Westmore,” she answered, waiting for his reply.

  “Hey, it’s Max. What are you doing?”

  She was caught a little off guard and found herself praying that at that moment Curtis didn't exit the room. “I’m still at work. What are you doing? Do you have something for me?”

  He laughed at her words. Where to take that? “I was wondering, do you have plans for the rest of the evening? There’s this great little jazz place over on Halstead. I thought you and I could go, have a few drinks, and enjoy the music together.”

  Oh shit!

  Brynn tried to figure out what to do. Never had she been stuck in a man triangle. It wasn’t exactly a bad feeling, or a good one for that matter. At the moment, this wasn’t the conversation she wanted to be having with the opposite sex.

  Karma was seriously screwing with her.

  “Are you there?” he asked laughing. “I didn't mean to throw you off by asking you out.”

  “Yes, sorry. I was trying to figure out if I could get out of here to meet you, or if I was tied up the rest of the night.”

  “Come on! Sneak out and live on the wild side. We’ll just have a couple drinks and listen to some jazz. I promise you’ll have fun.”

  Brynn stared at Curtis through the glass as he worked on his tablet. She had seconds to decide what to do and she prayed that she’d make the right decision.

  “Brynn?”

  She made her decision based on the anger brewing in her gut over the stupid reason the agent was being pissy.

  “What time? I’ll grab a cab and meet you there.”

  * * *

  It was all over the news.

  The only thing missing was the face of the victim.

  By now, the police had found the little clue and should be putting it all together. I mean, what more could they be given to figure this out?

  Calling the media first had been genius.

  All it took was dialing the tip line, disguising the voice and giving the address.

  That was it!

  Sitting not far from where it was destined to unfold, the arrival of the first media truck rolling up was exciting. Then there was the startled look on the reporter’s face as she realized it wasn’t a prank call.

  It was priceless.

  The woman began taking pictures of the victim, while looking around warily. It was as if she believed herself to be committing a crime by not calling the police first.

  It worked out exactly as planned.

  The media were such vultures. When it came to a hot story, they were willing to sensationalize just about anything. These women were going to make history. It had been thirty years coming, and soon it would be out there for everyone to see. The lies and deceit were now simmering. Shortly, it would bubble over and harm the guilty.

  It was a good day.

  Now, it was a matter of time as it all came down to the cops doing their damn job.

  * * *

  Standing in the shower, he ran his soapy hands all over his body, lingering on the back of his neck. Instinctually, his fingers found the shrapnel wounds he’d received in the war. Had he been focused on his well-being, and not a woman, he wouldn’t have come close to almost being paralyzed or dying.

  The outcome could have been far worse, and this just proved his point that deceit killed.

  Then Croft thought about the anger.

  Silently, in his mind, he replayed everything he’d just thrown at Emma in bitterness. Even as she came to the door of the bathroom to still face him- like a wife would.

  That took courage, and he wasn’t sure if their roles were reversed, he could have done it himself. The possibility of being rejected would have terrified him too much. The more he dwelled on it, the more it ate at him. Telling her to go away was cowardly.

  In that moment, he was so wrapped up in the anger; he didn't think he could talk it out. He wanted a few minutes to find his balance to rationally explain to his wife before the fight became unfixable.

  Then realization dawned at how out of control he’d become. The entire time, he was forcing his view on her, not being rational or calm. Emma was a smart woman, and she wouldn’t lie for just any old reason. In all the time he’d known her, loved her, and been married to her, she was honest to a fault.

  Taking a deep breath, he rested his forehead on the wall of the shower and was beginning to feel the tiny echoes of guilt. There was only one thing that was a clear definite.

  He handled this poorly.

  Damn it!

  Once again, he lost complete and total control around her. She had this innate ability to draw him into madness--whether it was sexually or with anger. She provoked emotions in him that he fought so hard to keep buried deep. They called him the ‘Ice King’ at work for a reason. He was cool under pressure when it came to the job, but in life, and apparently, in his relationship, the same wasn’t true.

  Without her, there’d be no feelings.

  There’d be no life or love.

  The king would be alone in the kingdom.

  That alone terrified him, making him instantly want to calm down and be more rational.

  Turning off the water, Greyson decided it was time to grow up and handle this like a married man. He wasn’t going to hide in the shower, or glare angrily at the woman he vowed to love.

  Stepping out, he dried off and headed to their room. He expected her to be there waiting for him, because she was the better person in all of this. When he found the room empty, he wasn’t surprised. After all, he had told her to go away. Maybe she was giving him space to calm down.

  Yeah, he was an idiot for taking his anger out on his wife. He was upset with her, but he was more furious at the man who put his hands on Emma. In the fury of it all, she became the main target.

  Pulling on his boxers, he noticed her dresser drawer was open, and he pushed it closed with his knee. It probably meant she was showering in one of the other bathrooms. Leaving their room, he went to find his woman and fix his mess.

  In the spare room, where his partner was staying, there was no sign of her. The shower stood dry and empty.

  It was odd.

  Co
me to think of it, he didn't hear her moving around the condo. Whenever they came home, she’d go to the kitchen and start making them something to eat. The music would be on, and he’d catch her talking to their cat. Now there was an eerie silence.

  Checking the last bathroom, there was no sign of her there either. Croft was beginning to get that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The one you got when you knew something was horribly wrong. Striding out to the living area, his heart skipped as the room was void of her presence.

  “Hairy, where has our girl gone?” he asked the furball, not really expecting an answer but needing any sound to shatter the ominous silence.

  The balcony was empty.

  Their room was vacant.

  The only place left was the kitchen.

  It was the last place she could be. Walking in, he spun in a circle and didn’t understanding what was happening. His mind began swirling as he tried to rationalize it all. It made no sense.

  Emma had vanished.

  She was gone.

  His woman was missing from their home.

  What the hell was going on?

  And then, he saw it.

  On the counter, there was a sheet of paper. It was similar to the ones Emma would use when she was making her grocery list, or to scribble him a quick note if she was running out. It was in the exact spot she would place it too.

  He stared at the folded note and wasn’t sure he could go through with opening it. No wife and a folded note implied only one thing to him, and it wasn’t good.

  Panic filed him as every worst-case scenario rushed through his mind. In his heart, he already knew what it was going to say. It was a matter of having the balls to face the music of what he’d done. Greyson began praying for intervention and a different outcome to any higher power that would listen.