Lost Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 2) Read online

  Saturday Morning

  N ow it was time to get down to business.

  It was the second full day of trying to figure out what the hell had happened to Dalton Harding. While their guts warned them that he was gone from this world, they still needed proof. In order to solve this for their client, they had to find a body.

  That was going to be hard.

  In fact, it was going to be like searching for a needle in a haystack. Vegas wasn’t a small town, and to make it a million times worse, the desert was a common dumping ground for mob hits.

  This was going to be a pain in the ass.

  So, to get started, by jumping in, they had to chase the few leads they already had.

  Mob men.

  Strippers.

  And secret keys.

  This was going to be interesting. The main lead they had was the one left behind by Dalton Harding himself.

  That meant using the card key.

  While no one was saying it, there was a level of nervousness on this one. Just the previous night, they gave Tony Mays a little message.

  Greyson was pretty sure he’d strike back, but he’d already promised his wife that she could go with them.

  If he reneged, he was a dead man.

  He wasn’t a fool.

  If he took his promise back, he’d be servicing his own needs until they were in the retirement home. His wife meant business, and there was no way he was taking a chance.

  So, it looked like Emma was joining them on a road trip.

  “What do you want us to do?” asked Curtis as he hung out beside his wife-to-be. He was nervous as hell, but he was trying not to let it show.

  “Well, other than keep an eye on Sam, we need to figure out where this man was hiding the money. If Dalton was doing illegal shit, then he had to have an account somewhere. Find it,” Greyson stated.

  Curtis opened up the powerful laptop and started working. He loved this part of the job. It was like a treasure hunt—of sorts.

  “Look at combinations of his children’s names,” Dimitri offered. “I know with my accounts, I used Anfisa and Anzehlina in the names. Once I destroyed our past identities, no one could search by them.”

  When he said their old names, both women glanced over at their brother. It warmed their hearts to know they did, indeed, have a father all those years ago.

  Here he was.

  “I’ll start looking,” Curtis offered.

  “I’ll stick to Sam,” Natasha offered. “He was headed down to the movie theater to nose around. When he found out there was one, he nearly shit himself in excitement. He’s never been to a movie in his whole life.”

  That alone was sad.

  “I’ll help you,” Chris offered.

  She smiled and accepted his assistance.

  “We should go then,” Greyson stated. “Emma, you stick close and stay out of trouble.”

  She laughed.

  Chris laughed.

  Hell!

  The whole family found that amusing.

  Only Emma wasn’t going to let it go at that.

  “Yeah, because you and Dimitri think that I can’t take care of myself.”

  “Uh, don’t pull me into this mess,” the Russian stated. “I’m just the bodyguard.”

  “Thanks,” Greyson said, staring at him. “The rats just bailed off the ship, leaving me to go down alone.”

  “In this case, yes. Your wife can be mean if provoked.”

  Oh, he was aware.

  Greyson, deep in his heart, knew his wife was capable. He just didn’t want to lose his mind and kill someone if she got hurt. The day was just beginning.

  He relented.

  When it was settled, and the family all had their duties, it was time to head out.

  In the vehicle, they got into the body armor that Dimitri had stockpiled for them. He wasn’t taking any chances.

  NONE.

  He knew that Tony Mays would strike.

  It wasn’t if.

  It was WHEN.

  Dimitri took the wheel, Greyson was at shotgun, and Emma was in the back flipping through a tablet.

  She was silent.

  “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

  “Why did he have blueprints of our warehouse? That’s bugging the hell out of me.”

  “What’s in that one?” Dimitri asked.

  Greyson wasn’t completely sure.

  “We’d have to call Dante. I’m not positive. What kind of businesses do we own where we would need a warehouse?” he asked.

  Emma didn’t know.

  “I haven’t the foggiest. This isn’t our thing. We let Dante run with it for a reason.”

  Yeah, they didn’t give a shit.

  Well, it was time to find out.

  Dimitri hit the console, and it dialed right through to the main office. Normally, Dante wouldn’t be working, but he was using the time to lock down the wedding plans.

  “Yo.”

  “Hey, that warehouse, the one we’re heading to search…?”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “What exactly do we keep in it?”

  There was a rustling of papers. “Well, that’s for the new business we started.”

  “We started a new business?” Emma asked. “Really? We need more money? Are you that bored, Dante?”

  He laughed. “Don’t blame me, Em, you’re planning to spawn with my brother. Who knows what kind of legal issues are coming?” he teased.

  “Dante.”

  “Seriously. You’re planning to have a kid, Curtis is having kids, I want to have them one day too. The family is growing. If we all want to live like we are, I have to expand us into other areas.”

  “That’s probably a good thing, Mr. Warbucks.”

  “It’s a hard knock life, my friend.”

  “So, what’s in there?” Emma asked.

  “Replicated antiquities. We find things outside the country we like, we have them replicated, and we sell them to upscale places like Casinos, hotels, plastic surgeon’s offices, or corporate offices when they can’t afford to buy the real thing, but still want the look. We’re already taking orders. Our first shipment of antique-look-alikes arrived three weeks ago.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  “No problem. I have to get going. I have a rose shipment coming into customs in about one hour and Emma, the wicked mother-in-law to be, has ordered me to pick them up.”

  She snorted. “Yeah, I’m horrible to my soon to be daughter. Go get her roses.”

  He hung up.

  “So what do antiquities going into hotels and casinos have that would make some pennyante drug running asshole interested?” Greyson asked.

  “And why was his accountant sniffing around?” Dimitri asked.

  This was getting weirder and weirder.

  “I feel bad for Tiffany Harding. We’re not any closer to finding any answers,” Emma stated. “If Tony made him disappear, then we aren’t going to find him.”

  “And if we don’t find him, she can’t have Dalton declared dead. The family will go under.”

  That was the last thing they wanted.

  Pulling down the dusty road that led to the cluster of desert warehouses, Dimitri headed toward theirs.

  “Uh…”

  “We can get to Tony Mays’s warehouse the back way. If someone pulls in, say to do a delivery, they’ll see us parked out front. We need to be stealthy.”

  He had a point.

  Parking at his warehouse, Greyson sent a text to his brother for the security code. It didn’t take long.

  “Oh look, it’s Emma’s birthday. That’s probably the worst security code ever.”

  “Our gate is one-one-one-one,” she stated. “Who came up with that one?”

  They both looked at Dimitri.

  “Hey, you said keep it easy. Who’s going to actually think that’s it?”

  He had a point.

  Greyson put in the code, and they entered the building.

 
; Inside, Emma looked around and couldn’t help but whistle.

  “Holy shit, there’s a lot of sparkly things in here. Mirrored tables, chandeliers, and big ass furniture.”

  Yeah, there really was.

  It screamed casinos.

  “This way,” Dimitri said, taking them to a security panel. He shut theirs down. “You know, in case we have to show them we were inside the whole time. Oh look, camera four is down. We better have that fixed.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, okay,”

  They headed out the back door, past the fence, and around the building beside theirs. When they got to the back door of the steel structure, belonging to Tony Mays, Dimitri took out the jammer to block the security feed.

  “This should work.”

  “Should?” Greyson asked. “We’re breaking and entering.”

  He slid the card through the security box. “WE have a key. It’s actually just entering,” he reiterated again.

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that will get us less than the normal ten years.” Emma was thinking about how queasy she felt, and none of it had anything to do with breaking into the mob guy’s warehouse.

  She really needed to keep this hidden.

  There was a really good chance she was going to come up pregnant, and delivering her child in a super-max wasn’t at the top of her list.

  No.

  Freaking.

  Way.

  The second Dimitri pushed the door open, they all smelled it. The decaying smell of body wafted right toward them.

  “Oh boy,” Emma said, reaching into her pocket. She pulled out her leather gloves. As of late, they didn’t go anywhere without them. They couldn’t leave prints.

  Not here.

  Not now.

  “Jesus, something has been dead a couple of days,” muttered Greyson, as they headed toward the smell.

  It wasn’t hard to find the body.

  There was nothing else in the place but some empty boxes surrounding him.

  “This is weird,” she stated, as they approached. As soon as she could recognize his face, she knew they had a problem.

  “That’s Dalton Harding,”

  “How can you tell?” Dimitri asked, covering his mouth and nose with his expensive silk handkerchief.

  “I’ve seen enough bodies that it’s second nature.”

  Emma pulled out her cell and began snapping pictures.

  “What are you doing?” Dimitri asked.

  “We aren’t going to be able to see the police report, so we’re going to have our resident ME take a look and try to give us anything.”

  Dimitri figured she knew what she was doing.

  He was accustomed to death, but not this stage. He killed them. He didn’t find them two weeks later.

  “What are we going to do?” he asked.

  “We’re going to call it in as an anonymous tip,” Emma offered.

  Greyson didn’t like the sound of that.

  His face must have said it too.

  “Hey, look on the bright side. That means we’re officially done with the case. We did what needed to be done. We found Dalton, and now Tiffany can get his life insurance money.”

  She had a point.

  When she reached for his suit jacket, and brushed away the maggots, Dimitri looked horrified. “You aren’t really going to go spelunking on his body, right?”

  This was nothing.

  Emma had seen worse things in her career. Dalton was still fleshy, and not too soupy.

  “He might have ID.”

  She found his wallet, slipped it out and open, and found his ID.

  “We have Dalton Harding. What was he wearing in his missing person report?” she asked.

  “Blue suit,” Dimitri said, pulling it up on his phone.

  “Check.”

  “Black shined shoes.”

  “Check.”

  “White pinstriped shirt with monogramed cuffs.”

  “Check. We have him, or someone is masquerading with his clothes, watch, and hair.”

  Greyson was glad it was over.

  They’d accomplished this. Now they could report it to the cops, Tony Mays would get investigated, and they were in the clear.

  “So, we’re done.”

  Dimitri was staring into the empty boxes. “There’s drug residue. I can see it from here.”

  “Okay, so he was trying to use this place as his storage unit.”

  Emma stood. “So why our blueprints?”

  He wasn’t so sure.

  Emma began pacing.

  “Kitten? Are you okay?”

  “What if he was going to somehow get the drugs in here, into our warehouse?” she asked.

  “For?” the men asked at the same time.

  “We have high end furniture that’s going into casinos, hotels…”

  “Hidden in our merchandise?” Greyson asked.

  “Yeah, we’re his mule, and if we get caught, he’s gotten off scot-free. He supplies to his people, and we carry the legal ramifications if DEA finds the loot.”

  “SON OF A BITCH.”

  He was trying to frame them.

  Dimitri laughed. “That’s ingenious. You’d go to jail—both of you.”

  They weren’t as amused.

  “So Tony Mays killed and tortured him when he found out that the man was digging, and he left the body here until he could get rid of him?” Dimitri asked.

  Emma knew that was wrong. Honestly, as much as she hated the man, it didn’t fit.

  As a cop, she could smell something worse buried beneath this half-assed set up.

  “Uh, Grey?”

  He moved to her side. “What?”

  “What’s all over his clothes?”

  He crouched down. “That’s dirt.”

  “If he was killed here for snooping, how did he get dirt all over him? And are you telling me no one has come to this warehouse in two weeks?”

  He knew the answer.

  Tony Mays didn’t kill him.

  “He was planted here.”

  “Yeah, and we need to get the hell out, now!”

  That was all they had to hear. They raced for the door, across the space between the two buildings, and back to their own safe space.

  Inside, they got ready to do the deed.

  They were calling it in, notifying the wife, and then going to find out who the hell had tried to frame Tony Mays, and likely them.

  It looked like they had a new client.

  One they really hated.

  * * * G r e y s o n C r o f t * * *

  New York

  City

  Paris Archer was hopeful.

  It was a brand-new day, and they were beginning the biggest step in their life.

  Children.

  This was the first round of IVF and they were one step closer to getting their family. It was hard to admit that he wasn’t able to give this to his wife.

  It was killing him, but he kept on a brave face.

  Truth be told, when he’d given his ‘donation’, they found very few viable sperm.

  That worried him. Hopefully, they’d be able to isolate one or two and fertilize Tessa’s egg.

  His fingers were crossed, despite the fact that his counts were already dropping. Within the next six months, he’d basically be shooting blanks.

  If this was going to happen, it had to be now.

  They had one shot at a baby, and this was it. Paris prayed that they hadn’t waited too long.

  This meant so much to Tessa, that Paris had to make it happen for her.

  As his wife was in the procedure room, getting inseminated, Paris was rolling back and forth in his wheelchair—almost like an expectant parent.

  When a little girl toddled up to him, he stopped for her to approach.

  When she climbed right into his lap, tears filled his eyes.

  Shit!

  This was what he wanted to give his wife.

  “I’m so sorry,” stated the harried looking man who rolle
d up to him. He, too, was in a wheelchair. “She got away from me.”

  Paris didn’t mind.

  The little moppet was adorable with all her freckles and curls. He patted her little leg.

  “It’s not a problem. I love kids.”

  The man was staring at him.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, my wife is in there…I feel…helpless.”

  The man patted him on the shoulder. “I’m Bradly Harper. This is Polly. She’s a miracle who was made here.”

  That gave Paris hope.

  More than he’d felt in a long damn time.

  “I’m Paris Archer.”

  The man seemed to relax once he sensed Paris wasn’t some serial child molester.

  “How long have you been in the chair?” the man asked, parking himself beside Paris.

  “I was shot on duty over a year ago. I was an FBI agent,” he said, as Polly played with his tie.

  “Oh, man! That sucks.”

  “Yeah, it’s been tough. You?” he asked.

  “I was in a car accident. I was rushing to a call. I’m a doctor.”

  “Yeah, me too. Psychology. I profile now for the local law departments.”

  “Is this your first round?” Bradly asked.

  “Yeah, but we don’t have much time,” he offered.

  “Your counts?”

  It was both cathartic and horrifying to be having this conversation.

  “Yeah, they’re having a hard time finding…swimmers,” he said, cleaning it up around the little girl.

  “We had to use a donor.”

  “For swimmers?”

  He nodded. “Polly is from her mother’s egg, and my brother donated. She’s as close to mine as I could get her. My brother jumped at the opportunity to help me. I think he just liked how redneck it sounded.”

  Paris tried to laugh, but that impending doom was weighing on his heart.

  “Do you have family?”

  “Not anyone who can donate. This is our only shot. My wife and I are sibling-less.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Polly crawled into her father’s lap.

  “I hope it works out for you.”

  Yeah, he did too.

  In fact, Paris would give his right arm to have this work for his wife.

  The man glanced past Paris and toward the doors.

  “I have to go. My wife is coming. She just had a new procedure. Good luck, man. I hope it all works out for you. Think positive and keep your chin up.”