No Justice_A Croft Mob Family Book Page 23

  The only thing Greyson was one hundred percent sure about was that when he went out to talk to a madam, it wouldn’t be with his wife.

  No.

  Freaking.

  Way.

  She was going to be staying inside the house, keeping safe, and relaxing. With less than a month to go in her pregnancy, Emma needed to stay off of her feet, calm, and relaxed.

  So, as his phone rang, it pissed him off. That didn’t make either of them calm. Rolling over, he grabbed it from his nightstand and answered by the third ring.

  It was his brother.

  “Morning, sunshine.”

  Greyson grumbled.

  “What do you want?”

  “I just called, to say, I love you…,” he sang.

  “Shut up, Dante, and tell me what you want.”

  Dante laughed.

  Someone was cranky, that was for damn sure.

  “It’s almost seven. I’m already in the office, and you’ll be glad I am,” he stated.

  Greyson didn’t want to play this game. In fact, he hated them. It was too early for this shit.

  “Why?” he asked, trying to be pleasant.

  “Because you had a call here yesterday after we left for the day. I found it on the voicemail.”

  That was odd.

  No one really ‘called’ him.

  Greyson and Emma owned a lot of things, but Dante handled the businesses. They handled Aquarius and fixing the broken Vegas mess, and that was really it.

  To actually call him…odd.

  “Was it my youth? If it wants to come back, I’m in,” he muttered as Emma moved into the side of his body to cuddle with him.

  Dante snickered.

  “Rough one, cowboy?” he asked.

  “Yes,” he said, not going into it. “So, if you love me like you sang, get to it.”

  That said it all.

  It had been rough.

  Well, not the job. He’d done it, doused his emotions with bourbon, and went to bed way too late.

  “Someone is bitchy.”

  He was getting testier by the moment.

  “Just cut to the chase, Dante. Seriously. We start that case today, and I would like a shower and coffee.”

  Very well.

  “You may need to put a hold on your plans. The new police commissioner has requested a meeting with you. Today, and in two hours.”

  Well, that was definitely not the norm. Greyson couldn’t recall the last time a cop wanted to see him—without him being in handcuffs.

  That was surprising.

  And alarming.

  “What about?” he asked, now even wider-awake. If a cop was calling, he needed to be alert. Something was going on.

  “The status of Vegas, and a joint venture.”

  He laughed.

  Greyson wasn’t buying that at all.

  This was not his first day at the show. He knew what cops and Crofts equaled.

  A SHOOT-OUT.

  “Uh, pass.”

  Dante didn’t think he got it.

  It didn’t sound negotiable.

  “Grey, he said it’s urgent. Maybe you should go. The tides have slowly been changing here, and maybe some allies in our corner wouldn’t be bad.”

  He wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Still, cops were NOT friends. Well, Riley was.

  “Dante, do I tell you how to hire dancers or run the show?” he asked.

  “No, but my job won’t get anyone killed. Yours does, and I’m sure you’d like to see that baby of yours.”

  It registered and hit its mark.

  That sat there between them.

  This was just one more weight on Greyson’s shoulders. His brother was absolutely right. His job would get people killed.

  And it had.

  His mind was made up.

  “Confirm the appointment and text me the details. I’ll do this for the preservation of our family.”

  “Oh, and one other thing.”

  “What?”

  What more could Dante need from him?

  “Mom called.”

  Oh, no freaking way. He was not getting back on that train to Bitchville. He’d been there and done that. He and his mother were estranged.

  Period.

  “Pass.”

  “She said it’s important.”

  Greyson didn’t care if she said Jesus was sitting in her living room talking tea and politics. He wasn’t going there. He’d cut those ties when she spilled the beans about Emma being with child.

  Reggie made her choice and he made his.

  That was how it was going to be.

  No discussion needed.

  “No, Dante, and I don’t care. Unless our father is sick or dying, it’s not happening. She’s dead to me, Dante, and that’s it. I’m tired of her criticizing my wife. You might want to take a similar stand since she rags on your husband just as much.”

  He was aware.

  “Yes, someone is definitely cranky today.”

  “I had a rough case day,” he stated, knowing his brother understood what was going on. “I have a hangover from bourbon and not enough sleep. Plus, on top of that, you’ve woken me up with news of Reggie. That’s why I’m cranky.”

  Dante got it.

  His brother was under an exorbitant amount of pressure at all times. He really tried to take that stress off of him, but it didn’t always happen. Sometimes, he had to let it ride.

  Like today.

  Greyson had to make his own decisions on certain things—that didn’t include feathers or their businesses.

  “I’ll send you the information, Grey, and leave you alone until you’re happier. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Greyson felt bad. His brother was just doing his job, and it wasn’t an easy one at that. Dante kept them in the lifestyle that allowed them to help people.

  So, he stopped him.

  “I love you, Dante. I’m sorry if I was a bitch. I shouldn’t kill the messenger.”

  He laughed.

  “I’m a masochist. No harm. No foul.”

  He hung up, and so did Greyson.

  When he dropped his phone back onto the nightstand, he rolled over to see his wife watching him.

  “Bad day?” she asked, hoping he wasn’t going to be in a foul mood. They had enough cranky going around.

  “Yeah.”

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “Well, Poppy is back, and she’s alive,” he began. “So, there’s that.”

  Emma let him tell her about the mission. She could tell by the tension in his face that he’d had to take lives. She knew her husband, and he was NOT a fan of pulling the trigger. To him, it was always the last option.

  Being a Fed had taught him that.

  He and Dimitri killed to avenge Steele’s abduction and rape, but they didn’t kill indiscriminately.

  Ever.

  Emma knew why he killed yesterday. It was to save Dimitri’s soul. For the ones he loved or felt the need to protect, he would pull the trigger.

  “I’m sure he’s glad she’s back,” Emma offered.

  “He’s struggling with it. You know Dimitri. He loves her, but he’s not thrilled that she walked away. That never makes him happy. It’s so very Marissa Pierce-ish.”

  And there it was.

  The truth.

  “I love the man, but he needs to get over that skank. She used him, tried to turn him against us, and played with his heart. Poppy isn’t her. If she was, I’d put her down myself.”

  He was aware.

  “Well, she’s back, and she’s likely going to be hanging out with you today.”

  That was good with her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, as he picked up his chiming phone.

  “It looks like I have an early appointment with the commissioner and chief of police. YAY!”

  She caught the sarcasm and fake enthusiasm.

  It was hard not to when he was scowling.

  “How w
as your day yesterday at the hotel?” he asked, already having his update from Chris, but she didn’t know that. Why not let her tell him, including seeing if she’d mention playing a baby incubator for the man?

  Emma broke it down for him.

  It felt good to be doing something other than growing another human.

  She could multitask.

  “We have the name of a madam. That’s it. Oh, and I helped save a girl. We’ll be going to a college graduation,” she said, smiling.

  “That will be a spectacle,” he stated, laughing. “I can see the media now.”

  “Yeah, but they won’t know WHO we’re there to cheer on. We can mess with them all.”

  He found that amusing.

  Emma cuddled closer, resting Mac against his side. He was sound asleep—likely from all of the moving around he liked to do at night. The kid had his days and nights flipped.

  That was going to suck.

  “How’s my son?” he asked, running his hand over his baby with nothing but love and tenderness. Greyson never thought there’d be a person he could love more than her, but he’d been wrong. Once you had a kid, you had all kinds of love.

  This was his boy.

  It made him think about Chris.

  “He’s good. I can’t wait to hold him in my arms. This lugging him around on my bladder is getting old.”

  He could only imagine.

  “So, you’ll stay in today with Heath? I’ll take Nikita, and Dimitri and Chris will have the interviews until I’m done,” he offered, sending the men a text that he wouldn’t be able to ride shotgun after all.

  He had cops to handle.

  Yay.

  “Yeah, I’m going to start working on tying Zachary Lipton to Jeffrey Raye. We know Raye has gotten his hands on money, but where did it come from? It can’t all be from his wife’s life insurance policy. We know where he’s resting his head, and that place was more than a million. He has to have income coming in—not in cop pension—I’m sure.”

  That worked for him.

  “I plan on chasing the case.”

  “As long as you chase it from the couch, I don’t care,” he stated.

  “Well, I planned on…”

  “Emma, no.”

  “I planned on chasing it from a pool chaise. Mac likes to feel the sun,” she corrected. “Plus, I can float now without even trying.”

  He laughed at the visual.

  It was also absurd. While Emma thought she was huge, she really wasn’t. It was all baby. She didn’t gain anything anywhere but the baby bump.

  He knew.

  He checked her out all of the time.

  “Let me rephrase. As long as you chase it from Dimitri’s condo, our penthouse, or anyone else’s home who works on our team, I’m good with that. Just stay in the building.”

  “Can do, Mr. Croft,” she said, giving him a kiss.

  It was clear she wasn’t going to bring up the pink elephant in the room.

  So he did.

  “Emma?”

  “Hmmmm?”

  “I don’t know if I can do it.”

  “This case?” she asked, concerned that the killing had been way too much on him.

  “No. You being a surrogate for Chris after our son is born,” he stated.

  The look on her face said it all.

  “Clearly, someone has a big mouth.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you being pregnant and the baby not being mine?” he asked, lifting a brow.

  She laughed.

  “I offered, and he said he’d consider it. I didn’t think he was going to talk to you the same day. In my defense, Greyson, I wasn’t withholding information. I just saw you now.”

  He was aware.

  Honestly, he wasn’t upset.

  Greyson knew that Emma truly loved Chris and that she wanted him to be happy. Greyson knew love when he saw it, and Chris was crazy about his wife.

  He was glad.

  If he ever went down, someone would save her. Greyson would kill anyone who tried to poach his wife—while he was alive—but if he were dead, of course, he would want his wife to move on.

  Greyson couldn’t imagine her staring at a tombstone, promising her fidelity to a corpse. It was insane. Yes, she was his soulmate, and he was hers, but at some point, you had to put emotions aside and be realistic.

  Basically, Greyson would understand her moving on. It wasn’t healthy to lock yourself in a coffin of memories for wedding vows that expired at death.

  It was robbing yourself of happiness for the rest of your life. Greyson would want Emma to move on, even if she was too stubborn to see it. Their love was special and unique, but he wouldn’t want her raising his son without the ability to see that sometimes life handed you shit. It’s how you adjusted to it that mattered.

  Did you wallow and have a pity party?

  Did you see it as a bridge to something more?

  Did you bury your love and find a way to show your child that you could love more than one person in life?

  Yes.

  He would want Mac to know that his life meant more than a tombstone and memories. It meant happiness too.

  “Well, he came to me—which I respect. Had he not, I wouldn’t have been thrilled.”

  “And?”

  “I told you. Between you and I, I’m not sure I can swallow it.”

  “Okay. I get it.”

  He was surprised.

  REALLY.

  SURPRISED.

  After all, he’d given Paris and Tessa his genetics. He’d offered it up—yes, after talking to his wife—but she had told him to make his own decision.

  And he couldn’t give that to her.

  He wanted to, but he couldn’t.

  Greyson wasn’t as big a person when it came to Emma and any children.

  Still, he was curious.

  “You’re not going to guilt me or pressure me by telling me that right now, two of me are growing in Tessa?”

  She patted him on the cheek in gentle reassurance, since that was exactly what he needed.

  “No, Greyson, I’m not.”

  He didn’t get it.

  Honestly, it perplexed the hell out of him. How did she not want to do that?

  In her place…

  Oh, he would.

  Greyson would absolutely go there, using that as his main excuse to do it.

  “I know that what you did was done out of guilt. I know you wanted Paris and Tessa to have kids, and his injury was on your soul. You still see it as your fault—even when it wasn’t. I know that if that wasn’t a mark on your conscience, you wouldn’t go there.”

  He was aware, but it wasn’t true.

  It was on him.

  It always would be.

  “My sweet Greyson, it’s a hard pill to swallow. I could carry it when you brought it up. Maybe you can’t.”

  “I wish I could give him this. It’s just that you’re mine. I would die to protect you, and I can’t see myself offering that up.”

  She nuzzled his cheek.

  “I know, Grey. I know.”

  “I wish it were easier. I love Chris. He’s my friend, and he’s someone I respect. I am just getting caught up on the whole thing of you sharing yourself with someone else.”

  She could see that.

  “Could you do it if it was my egg and another person’s body?”

  He didn’t hesitate.

  “Absolutely.”

  That made it a million times easier. Greyson could then pretend that the child wasn’t hers. He could pretend that someone else didn’t own a piece of his wife.

  That was the bottom line.

  Greyson had very few good and pure things in his life. She was about it—other than Mac. Greed made him want to keep her all to himself.

  Was it wrong?

  Yes.

  Could he stop feeling what he was feeling?

  No.

  Emma reassured him the best she could. It was all she could do.

&n
bsp; “Well, then maybe that’s what he has to do. Even though I will be more than willing to donate an egg so we can give him a baby, I can’t if you’re this upset about it.”

  He gave her a kiss.

  He appreciated it.

  “I’m torn. His heart hurts, Grey. It really hurts. Chris, in all of the time we’ve known him, has never wanted anything. I imagine the idea that it could happen, then sharing it with you, had to be very difficult for him. He refuses to let his heart be hurt. I get it.”

  So did he.

  His wife had a point. If Chris asked him or mentioned it, then it had to mean a great deal to him. Every gift they had ever given him, he’d fought it—never wanting anything for himself.

  Croft knew what he needed to do.

  “I need to think about it.”

  She was sure, and Emma was okay with that. Whatever her husband decided, was good for her.

  “Want to get ready for today?” he asked.

  Emma stared up at the ceiling.

  “I’m going to stay right here,” she said, pointing at the bed. “I feel fat, wobbly, and I’m already exhausted.”

  He understood.

  “That’s good for me,” he offered, knowing he’d have an exact location on where she’d be. “I’ll have Chris get you breakfast.”

  She stopped him.

  “No, I can do it. Help me,” she stated.

  Sitting up, he helped get her some clothes and placed them beside her. Then he rushed into the shower so he could help her get her shoes on if she needed him.

  Emma was sporting a lot of flipflops as of late, and he didn’t blame her. She couldn’t see her feet.

  When he came back in, she was dressed, and looked really spent.

  “Want a ride?”

  “Oh, do I ever,” she teased. “Do I still have a vagina? I can’t see it.”

  He laughed.

  “I meant to the kitchen, and I hope so, or getting Mac out is going to be very painful.”

  She found that amusing.

  “The visual alone,” she offered.

  He didn’t want to think about it. Instead, Greyson pulled her up and held her against him. There was nothing better than moments like these. He couldn’t wait to cuddle with his son in their bed. He couldn’t wait to see his wife feeding Mac, as they made their bed a happy little nest.

  Maternity and paternity leave was coming.

  Soon.

  It gave him peace.

  When the moment passed, he scooped her up and carried her toward their kitchen.

  Heath was there, making googly eyes at Nikita. The man was checking her out, and not exactly doing it overtly. He was pretty much telling her, and the world, that he was sniffing around her.