True Justice Page 3

  “Please take me,” she whispered.

  That’s when he did exactly what she’d asked, and he did it with all he had.

  He raped her.

  Her tears made him angry. He didn’t want crying. He wanted her to fight. So, he shoved her head back into the water as he pulled out, repositioned himself, and drove himself back into her body with such force.

  He destroyed her.

  When she stopped moving, drowned in her own prison, he rode his dead pet like there was no tomorrow—because there was none for her.

  He owned her.

  As he repeatedly drove himself into her, he had only one woman in his mind.

  Emma Croft.

  Eventually, he would have her there with him, and he would destroy her too.

  He thought about her fears, what scared her, and that was all it took. Viktor came so hard that he nearly fell on top of the dead girl—upending the trunk.

  When he pulled out of her, he shoved her into the icy water prison and latched the lid.

  She’d keep fresh for a little while in there. For now, he had to worry about something else.

  Later, he’d ditch her.

  Or fuck her again.

  For now, he was worried about one thing, and one thing only.

  He needed to get ready for his brother.

  Then, Greyson Croft.

  The game was beginning and neither man would be the winner. It was nearly over.

  And he would be king.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Tuesday Morning

  Across Vegas

  It took her a couple of days to find him. What she did was slip a tracker on his vehicle when he was out shopping for some things. It was totally against the law, but Detective Poppy Wayne didn’t give a shit at this point.

  The man was avoiding her.

  By avoiding her, he was avoiding the questions that she needed to ask to solve the case. Someone had killed Natasha Gideon, and it was her job to figure it out.

  Well, her and her partner.

  Dimitri was evading them. They’d been out to Sky Villa to talk to Dimitri Gideon, and he had security tell them that he wasn’t there.

  Bullshit.

  She’d watched his fancy, blacked-out ride drive into the underground parking garage just minutes before. Security stalled them at the door long enough for him to exit one elevator and enter another.

  She knew it.

  She’d bet money on it.

  When they’d been turned away there, they headed to his employer at Terrace Glen.

  Again, they were cut off.

  The Crofts didn’t know where he was, and she didn’t believe them. They were protecting the man.

  But why?

  Did he kill his sister?

  So, this investigation was taking some desperate steps. While her partner worked the other cases on their desk—the Jane Does—and with very little success, she went to Sky Villa to watch the place.

  Oh, he’d been there all right.

  In fact, she saw him leave there a few days ago, so she followed. He’d gone to a few more stores, and it looked like he was buying supplies to hide out in the wilderness. Around Vegas, that meant only one place.

  He was heading toward the mountains.

  Okay, so, Poppy knew more than she had originally known. In fact, Poppy had a feeling he was going to run, so she took that opportunity to talk to him.

  There.

  While he was shopping.

  And it didn’t go over well.

  Why?

  She was in charge of his sister’s murder, and he wanted no help. He’d told her that he would handle it.

  What?

  Had he admitted to a revenge plan?

  That couldn’t happen. Poppy Wayne had no freaking time for this bullshit. Vegas was already a handful and a hot mess. She didn’t need to pick up some street war as Captain of the homicide division. This was her last freaking case before her boss, Commissioner Raye, bumped her to the captain’s chair.

  It was the last case until she got her gold bars.

  It was every cop’s goal, and she was there—so close that she could almost taste it.

  By God, she just had to close out this case, clean off her desk, and pass off her partner to someone else. She knew he didn’t mind. He was a partner hopper anyway.

  Poppy couldn’t lose this opportunity because of some sexy man with a shitty attitude.

  In a matter of one closed case, she was going to move on up to a safer job, a higher pay scale, and a longer life.

  Being a detective in Vegas was hard.

  Being a homicide detective in Las Vegas was the stuff nightmares were made of. In the last year, she’d seen more cops go down on the job, heard more whispers of corruption than ever before, and she only wanted to do her damn job to the best of her ability.

  As a detective, her hands were tied.

  As a captain, she’d have the leverage to clean up the homicide division.

  That was her plan.

  Get in.

  Clean it up.

  Retire at her twenty-year mark.

  While Commissioner Raye saw her as a good candidate, she saw through his BS. There was some kind of cover-up going on in Vegas Homicide, and she knew it. If he thought because she was a woman she’d turn a blind eye…

  Yeah, he didn’t know Poppy Wayne.

  The shit was going down.

  Thomas Christ had gone bad, and she’d learned he was hired by Raye—personally. The evidence planted at Lester’s home as he was killed pointed at a cop she trusted. Poppy had gone through a few doors with Riley Henderson on cases, and he was the epitome of the job.

  Besides, she liked Riley Henderson, and she knew he was a straight arrow. So, something didn’t jive.

  And she would handle that once she was in office.

  Where was the stink coming from?

  She had a feeling it was above captain pay grade, and she wanted to clean up the mess.

  You’d have to be an idiot to miss it. She’d watched the video surveillance of Thomas Christ heading into the commissioner’s office, and his mood spoke volumes of what he was going in there for that day.

  He was not stressed.

  He’d been called to the big man’s office, and that was never good. Only, Thomas Christ looked calm, cool, and collected.

  Something wasn’t right.

  So, she was going to keep an eye open.

  Now that she and her partner, Hunter Dietrich, had pulled this case, she was focused on getting to the bottom of this chaos. He wasn’t as interested. Multiple times, he’d told her that bad boys would be bad boys, and to write it off and head to the captain chair.

  Only, she couldn’t.

  She had a perfect record, as of that moment, and along with the Jane Does on her desk, and Natasha Gideon, a young twenty-six-year-old woman who had been blown up, she solved them all.

  Well, she’d solve this one, too, even if it meant thinking outside the box.

  Word on the street from her paid lackeys was that someone was gunning for Dimitri Gideon. They’d warned her to keep her nose out of it so she’d live, and that pissed her off.

  She was a cop. If he was in danger, it was her job to protect him. She wore a badge for a reason, and it wasn’t to accentuate her hips. It was to do the damn job.

  It looked like she’d have to bend the rules to save another Gideon’s life. It may be too late for Natasha, but it wasn’t too late for her brother—even if he didn’t want her help.

  So, she tried one more time, heading to the source to talk to him about his sister’s death.

  When she tracked him to the surplus Army and Navy store, he wasn’t happy. When he saw her there, he growled at her, shoved her out of his way, and hurried off.

  Only, she got the last laugh.

  The tiny, minuscule tracker was slapped to one of his little purchases. He was double-tagged for her tracking pleasure. Since it was a private device she’d picked up to
monitor a confidential informer, it couldn’t be traced back to the police.

  Again, desperation was the mother of invention for a cop in this town.

  Still, when he pushed past her, mumbling in Russian—something about him had her holding her breath.

  Not because she was afraid of him and his reputation, but because of his eyes. The sadness and pain in them spoke to her. Poppy was a firm believer in the eyes being the window to the soul.

  The man was hurting.

  His soul was damaged.

  She knew damaged souls, personally, since she was one of the biggest ones out there. That bonded them along with him losing his family.

  That she got.

  Dimitri Gideon’s sister had just died, and he looked like he was bracing for some camping adventure?

  Yeah, no.

  He was either running from something or running toward it, and just being that close to him and his large, powerful body didn’t make her believe he’d ever run.

  He was dangerous.

  Dark.

  Brooding.

  Lethal.

  When you were a cop, you could spot the ones you needed to worry about, and he was one.

  Dimitri Gideon wasn’t just a businessman in Vegas. She’d bet her badge that he was dealing with some dangerous shit.

  Shit!

  She needed to know what he was playing with to save him. He was in a hurry, and that meant he was tracking someone. She knew what Vegas, and her fellow cops, said about him.

  He was Greyson Croft’s hired gun.

  As in a killer.

  Yeah, that…that she bought.

  She was willing to bet he was heading off to do some ‘gunning’ of his own and at the person who had crispy, flash-fried his sister.

  It was probably good that she had tagged his ride.

  It was also why she didn’t tell her partner what she was planning, so when the Crofts got their lawyer, Delilah Fleur, on her ass, he wouldn't be screwed too.

  Why take them both down?

  She’d save one of their careers.

  Poppy had to be certifiable. She was going to follow a killer to get justice for the woman who was flambéed in Emma Croft’s ride.

  Who was she kidding?

  It had been that flash of pain in his eyes. Poppy had been there, and no one saved her when she’d been in his position. Now she was battling those demons for those who couldn’t battle them alone.

  She’d save his gangster ass.

  Legal or not.

  Yeah, something bad was brewing.

  Today was the woman’s funeral, only her brother was going in the opposite direction to head out on a camping trip.

  That screamed odd.

  So, she’d grabbed some of her own gear, some snacks, and provisions, and she was following at a HUGE distance. Tracking a man of his caliber was dangerous.

  If he got wind…

  Yeah, she couldn’t let that happen.

  So, she was staying back, keeping the tracker on, and doing her thing.

  Man.

  The dude must be rattled. She knew that tracking him shouldn’t be this easy. Either he was so completely oblivious, thanks to his sister’s death, or he was leading her into a trap.

  Shit!

  Well, no guts…no glory.

  Hopefully, he wouldn’t kill a cop.

  This was her chance to catch Dimitri Gideon in the act. Maybe NOT his sister’s death, but something shy of legal. If she could do that, maybe she could lock up one of the idiots willing to wage a war in Vegas.

  Maybe she could save some lives.

  After all, that was her job.

  Something bad was brewing in the city. She could feel it starting to simmer, and it needed to be stopped.

  As her laptop tracked him, she followed toward the mountains. It looked like she was right. He was going to hide out there.

  That was bad.

  It was chilly this time of the year, and in the Nevada mountains, you could die if you weren’t prepared. A two-day hike could end your life.

  Well, thankfully, she was prepared.

  She was going to get to the man and find out what the hell was going on with his part of this upcoming war. The word on the street was that Croft was going down, and the Russian mob was moving in.

  Dimitri Gideon was Russian.

  Was he taking sides with his boss’s enemies? Is that why he wasn’t at the funeral?

  Well, she’d find out.

  With her snacks, her gear, and her tracker, she was going to see what was going on. It was a good thing she actually liked hiking in the mountains.

  As her cell rang, she answered it.

  “Detective Wayne.”

  “Hey, are you taking today off? I’m on my way to the funeral to babysit the Crofts, and I don’t see you lurking,” Hunter Dietrich said.

  Yeah, because she wasn’t. There was no time to be on Dimitri Gideon and Greyson Croft. She had to pick her battles, and she was going Russian.

  “I’m following Gideon.”

  There was silence.

  “What?”

  “I think you heard me, Hunter.”

  Oh, he had.

  “Uh, that’s a damn bad idea. In fact, I know I haven’t been your partner long, but…really, Poppy?”

  Yeah, this was bad, but she needed to talk to the man, and this was the ONLY way she could get to him.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  She thought about it. Maybe telling him was a bad idea. If he knew any of her plans, he would be screwed just as much as she was. While she could use the backup, she wouldn’t risk his career carelessly.

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Poppy.”

  “I’m good, Hunter. Watch the Crofts and let me know if anything is off—more so than having a family member flambéed in front of their home. I have a gut feeling that things are NOT what they appear in Vegas.”

  He laughed.

  “Yeah, that’s new. Nothing is ever what it seems here, and you know it.”

  Damn straight she did.

  “I’ll be good. I have to go. He’s reached his destination, and the fun begins.”

  “Be careful, Poppy. He’s a killer.”

  So people kept telling her, and yet, his eyes haunted her. She’d seen that kind of pain before in the eyes of so many victims’ family members.

  He was a wounded animal.

  She felt for him.

  Now, hopefully, it didn’t get her killed.

  Only time would tell.

  And it would be either a huge case under her belt.

  Or the end of her career.

  They would have to wait to find out which.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Terrace Glen

  It was the most heartbreaking of funerals. It always was when someone died so young. On top of that, burying someone you loved was always painful, but this…this ate away at their souls as they placed the pink metallic coffin in the ground.

  It was horrible.

  There was no other way to describe it other than that.

  As Natasha Gideon was lowered into her grave, there was not a dry eye there. The funeral had been restricted to family only—as they tried to keep the media out.

  They were under a tent, hidden by the helicopter flying above them.

  The hardest part was no one knew who to console more. Chris, who had lost his girlfriend, or Katerina, who had lost her sister. It was lost on no one that Dimitri didn’t show to say goodbye. No one missed that Katerina kept looking toward the opening of the tent as she hoped he’d be there.

  He wasn’t.

  As the service was ending at the graveside, everyone in the family was crying. Emma was holding Sadie in her arms as Katerina mourned her sister.

  Greyson was even wiping his eyes.

  There was not a dry eye in the place—except for Chris. He was silently sitting there as he stared at the casket.

  He’d cried for days.<
br />
  He’d mourned from the second he heard the vehicle blow to that very second. His chest still hurt from where he’d taken a bullet.

  Earlier, he’d placed her engagement ring in the hands of the undertaker with instructions of it to be buried with her. He placed it there to have it sent to her final resting place with her. From what he assumed, his girlfriend was nothing more than charred remains.

  All he wanted was for her to have that one pretty thing on her finger as she went to be with her maker.

  Her life had ended too soon, and now his had too.

  The guilt was there.

  Why hadn’t he stopped her?

  Why hadn’t he done something to keep her in the house?

  Deep down, he was hurting that he hadn’t been ready to marry her, and she had been ready. He’d made her wait, trying to catch up, and now she was dead.

  Why hadn’t he given her that one thing?

  WHY?

  Now, she was gone, and he couldn’t say he was sorry for dragging his heels. He couldn’t say he was sorry for not giving her the one thing she craved.

  Now there would be no happy ending for her. He’d let her wait, and he was an asshole.

  As Kat sat beside him, he held her hand. She was sobbing, and honestly, he couldn’t shed another tear.

  He was empty.

  His whole body hurt.

  When he’d heard that vehicle blow, his heart had stopped. When he got to the door, only after Dimitri had been detained, and that bullet hit him in the chest, he wished he wasn’t wearing his body armor.

  He didn’t want to go on alone, and that was what he was in life.

  Alone.

  Had that bullet hit higher, they could have been buried side by side and the guilt would have been gone.

  Why was he left behind to suffer the guilt?

  Why did he have to recall all the conversations where she just wanted to be his best friend, near him, and have what Greyson and Emma had?

  He felt horribly guilty.

  And now he’d carry it.

  As he sat there beside Natasha’s sister, he listened to the family crying, but he couldn’t muster more.

  None.

  Nada.

  Chris was sure he looked like one hell of a cold asshole as he sat there. Everyone was mourning, and all he could do is pray to get out of there.