Paid Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 3) Page 4

  Well, he liked being near them.

  Honestly, he liked being around Emma.

  She was cathartic.

  Emma’s love ebbed from her, covering them all. Look at his sisters. Kat was happy. She was expecting her first child, and he was going to hold that baby. She’d already decided that on the day the child was to be born, he’d be by her side.

  Well, he and Emma.

  She was the mother to them all, and it pleased him that she loved his sisters as much as he loved them. It’s all he really wanted for them.

  Still, in the back of his mind, he saw himself walking away one day. When the family was safe and when his sisters were loved, he’d leave, knowing he did his job.

  Dimitri knew there would be no love for him.

  He wasn’t the lovable type. He killed without thinking, and he didn’t bat an eye when he did it.

  He was broken.

  Heartless.

  Nothing.

  For now, he kept up the charade, hoping no one would see through it. It wasn’t easy.

  Emma Croft was, indeed, like a mother.

  She was tricky.

  She would be smiling at you one minute, and the next, she’d be analyzing you.

  God help her child.

  That baby was getting away with nothing. She was the mother of all mothers, and it made him smile.

  So, as he patrolled the house, making sure to check on everyone, he couldn’t help but think about the next part of his journey.

  Father part two.

  The boy deserved some stability, and frankly, he reminded him of himself.

  When Dimitri was a boy, he was about Sam’s age when his father really began abusing him. From the times he’d hold him down and beat him with his belt, to the days he’d lock him in his room without food for days.

  He told him he was making him tougher.

  All he was doing was making him mean.

  Like that abused dog, he’d turned him from someone who could have been lovable into something dark, angry, and more prone to bite.

  He could remember all those days where he would be in his room, his back bloody and damaged, and he prayed for a way out.

  That’s when the stealing began.

  Dimitri stole food.

  His mother didn’t give a shit about him, and she barely remembered to close her legs. So, he had to walk through the markets, and take what wasn’t his.

  Oh, he’d been caught, but when he told them his name, they set him free.

  They all knew his father, Constantine. He was named for an emperor with the heart and soul of the Devil, himself.

  The man was pure evil.

  Now that he had a son, or would as soon as the papers were signed, he’d make sure Sam was never broken any more.

  He deserved a chance.

  Dimitri would try and balance the debts he owed by doing one more thing right.

  It was all he could do.

  So, as he stood at the boy’s door, he stared in at him. Sam was tucked into his bed, and on time. That had been the first battle. He wanted to stay up all night like him, but a growing boy needed certain things.

  Food.

  Shelter.

  Clothing.

  Love.

  Sleep.

  Sam was going to be a handful. He was fighting against the rules, and he was continually calling all the women ‘babe’. While funny, it wasn’t right. Dimitri didn’t want him objectifying women even if it was a way to break the ice.

  Sam didn’t take that rule very well either, and Dimitri had his hands full.

  When he ‘borrowed’ a car from the garage to ‘drive into town for some stuff’, Dimitri had to put his foot down—and hide the keys.

  It was expected.

  When you had a kid, who had nothing his whole life and who was barely fed each day, there was bound to be issues. He had been barely kept alive, and then he was dropped into Terrace Glen.

  For Sam, it had to be overwhelming.

  This was a playground.

  There was food everywhere.

  The house had a theater.

  A game room.

  A pool.

  It was a kid’s wildest dream come true and a grown man’s too.

  Then you show a boy a building full of cars…

  It was bound to happen. Fortunately for them, Sam was a decent driver, but shitty at stealing.

  He had a lot to learn.

  They’d managed to have the car locked down before they had to report it stolen.

  They’d found him pissed and locked in the vehicle, trying to get out. It amused the hell out of Dimitri.

  The kid could barely see over the wheel, and he was cursing like a sailor.

  It was as if he had actually spawned the child. Dimitri knew this one was going to be tough.

  Sam didn’t like being told no.

  The kid wanted to learn everything he could so he could assimilate into their world. All they really wanted him to learn was math.

  English.

  Russian.

  History.

  They were trying to instill in him that an education was priceless, and that he had to get one.

  You’d think they told him he was in prison.

  That was the second biggest fight. He wouldn’t go to public school, and he hated male tutors.

  The kid was making him work for it, but it was worth it. An education was so valuable. He’d barely known how to read when he entered the military. His love of books had helped him get smarter, and more dangerous.

  A boy with a mind could move mountains.

  A damaged boy with smarts could conquer the world.

  And he had.

  Well, Dimitri wanted that for him since he’d never had the chance to prove his intelligence. He’d gone right into the military, and then he escaped with Kat and Nat after killing his father.

  There was no math.

  There were no languages.

  He had to pick them up on the fly. He’d been born a killer, bred to destroy, and never given a chance.

  Dimitri wanted the opposite for Sam.

  He was given no chance, but he’d have a good education, and he’d never be forced to kill.

  Steal?

  Okay, maybe.

  The family business was the family business. There was nothing he could do about that. The kid was going to have to pitch in and do his time.

  Like Kat.

  Like Nat.

  Like him.

  As he watched from the doorway, the boy was sound asleep. He was shocked the child had gone to bed without a battle, and then he could tell why he’d slipped off to slumber without a fight.

  Emma had been there.

  He could tell.

  The boy was tucked into the bed, and there was some big, stuffed, fluffy dog beside him. It was one that he didn’t own before. She was spoiling him rotten, and he didn’t even mind.

  It made him smile.

  It took a village, and he had his backup for this one.

  Dimitri made a mental note to get the boy a real dog. Yes, he knew Greyson didn’t want one, but he figured every kid should have a pet.

  He never had one, and look how he’d turned out. He had to stop that before it ever happened.

  Dimitri wouldn’t wish his life on his worst enemy.

  Closing the door, he headed to a control panel in the wall. Swiftly, he checked on all the occupants.

  There was snoring from Dante and Steele’s room, so he knew they were in and safe.

  Curtis and Katerina’s room was empty, since they weren’t back until tomorrow from their honeymoon.

  He typed in a code, and the sound popped on for the pool house. There was giggling and moaning.

  He turned it off and rubbed his temples.

  Now he’d have to have a drink to forget about hearing Natasha and Christopher Ford fornicating.

  Again.

  Dimitri had a high sex drive, but Chris Ford? He wanted whatever the man was taking.

>   He was ALWAYS molesting Natasha.

  It was nonstop.

  Dimitri didn’t know if he should be glad or horrified by how much sex was going on in that pool house. It was like its own little love shack.

  He’d puke. He didn’t want to dwell since it grossed him out. That was his baby sister, and for his own sanity, he didn’t want to picture it in his mind.

  Next, he typed in the code for Greyson and Emma’s room—audio first. He could hear only her breathing. He turned on the camera and saw her alone in bed.

  That was…odd.

  Wherever the woman went, her husband was sure to follow. The man couldn’t stay away from her.

  In fact, Greyson must be popping the same pill that Chris Ford was too.

  Now his curiosity was piqued. He needed to find the man so he could relax.

  As he searched the house, he found Greyson in his office. He was sitting behind his desk working.

  Dimitri headed there to see what was bothering him. If he was up working while Emma was sleeping, there had to be a reason.

  There was likely a storm brewing.

  In the doorway of his office, he saw him.

  “Working?” he asked.

  Greyson looked up. “Yeah, I’m handling something that Curtis sent me. Would you like to join me for a drink?” he asked.

  Dimitri headed in.

  “Sure.”

  He sat.

  Greyson poured them both some bourbon and tossed him a cigar. “This is the last room I can smoke in,” he said, already knowing what the man was thinking.

  It was clearly on his face.

  Dimitri laughed. “Yeah, well, you’re pussy whipped.”

  “I’m not giving my unborn child birth defects for the pleasure I get from a cigar. I’ll wait. One day, I’ll smoke around my kitten again.”

  Croft missed having his cigar girl. It had fueled so many fantasies he couldn’t keep track of them all.

  Maybe, when he climbed back into bed, he’d act a few of them out.

  Dimitri lit his cigar and tossed his friend his lighter.

  “You’re a better man than I am,” Dimitri admitted without an ounce of animosity in his voice because it was true.

  It was fact.

  Greyson heard the tone, and he knew right away something was bugging the man. He leaned back in his chair and studied Dimitri like he’d done so many times before.

  He was edgy.

  Croft could see it in his normally calm features. The sharp angular nose, the deep aqua eyes, and his strong brow were all showing the stress.

  Here was a man on the edge.

  He could see it because they’d become close. They shared secrets.

  Everything.

  They’d killed together.

  “Why do you look pissy?” Greyson finally asked when the man didn’t offer anything.

  “I’m not.”

  He lifted a brow.

  Yeah, he’d just lied.

  With Dimitri, you didn’t force him to share. He was one of those people who would suffer in silence, and be a martyr.

  “You realize you can tell me anything, right?”

  “Your wife is sexy when she sleeps.”

  He didn’t react.

  This was more proof that there was a shitload of self-loathing going on. Dimitri knew who he was baiting, and he was in the mood for a fight.

  Well, he wasn’t getting one.

  “Yeah, I know. Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

  Dimitri took a puff of his cigar and wanted to apologize for the shittiness he had just handed him. Greyson hadn’t been miserable, and he didn’t deserve to deal with his BS.

  “Why are you in here working?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you be asleep with your wife?”

  Oh, he wished.

  That was where he had been, and then he had to deal with one more mess in Vegas.

  “We have a problem, and I don’t know what to do about it,” Greyson said.

  Dimitri was curious. “Only one problem? What happened to the other ninety-eight of them?” he asked.

  Croft laughed. “I know, right? They are right here,” he said, tapping his head. “I’m working my way through them one by one, but this was the one at the top of the list.”

  “What’s our problem?” he asked.

  Greyson loved how the man always wanted to help. It was never their issue or his family, or their lives. It was always OUR. That mattered.

  “Here.”

  He slid the file toward him. “It came after dinner. Curtis and Kat found it in Philadelphia.”

  “I thought they were going to Celestia.”

  “It’s only forty minutes away. I was curious. I worked out of there, and I had some friends who pulled some strings with some money.”

  “So you bribed people?”

  “Yes.”

  “You realize you can just say that. It is what it is,” he offered, as he flipped open the file to read it.

  He knew when Dimitri saw it.

  “Oh.”

  Yeah, he’d thought the same thing.

  He looked up. “Well, this is bad on all kinds of levels,” he offered.

  Greyson knew it.

  “This explains why you have a naked woman in bed and you’re sitting here with me.”

  Preaching to the choir. He’d rather be in bed.

  “Here’s my conundrum. Do I tell her? Do I dredge up the past and tell my wife that a man she’d slept with once, and who her brother had warned her to stop seeing, was actually the man who planned her brother’s death?”

  Yeah, this was ugly.

  Dimitri thought about it.

  Greyson knew he was weighing all the pros and cons, as he tried to navigate what he should do. If anyone could help him, it would be Dimitri.

  This was his thing.

  “I wouldn’t tell her.”

  Greyson needed his opinion.

  “Talk me out of it,” he said. “Marriages are supposed to be open, and this…”

  He got it.

  This was one more reason why he was never falling in love. It clouded your judgment, and as a soldier, you couldn’t be weak. You had to be ready for anything. This was weighing on Greyson instead of him just making the decision.

  Thomas Christ lived.

  Or he died.

  It was that damn simple.

  “If you tell her, she’s going to be hurt. It’s clear to see that Emma was damaged that day.”

  Oh, he didn’t know the half of it.

  Damaged wasn’t the word he’d use. She couldn’t eat meat, she’d wake from nightmares, and she still had dreams where she couldn’t save him.

  All these years later, and she was still suffering.

  And now she was with child.

  His child.

  “If you tell her that she’s been intimate with the person who plotted Gage Starling’s murder, that’s going to be brutal for her. She was betrayed. No one likes that feeling of betrayal.”

  Greyson happened to agree.

  “If I don’t tell her, I’m going to betray her. Will I then be the man who saved her heart or broke it?”

  Yeah, he got it.

  It was a slippery slope.

  Again, this was exactly why Dimitri wouldn’t find a woman and do all of this.

  It was too much.

  It was damaging.

  “I still stick with my initial thought on this. I wouldn’t do it, Grey. She’s pregnant. You don’t need this landing in her lap and making her do something…”

  “Stupid?” he asked.

  “Dangerous. She’ll confront him. You have evidence. If that gets out, he’s going to strike at her and at you. None of this is a coincidence, and you know it.”

  Yeah, he did, but he didn’t care about himself. There was nothing they could throw at him that he couldn’t take.

  He did care about Emma, and he couldn’t risk her.

  Not now.

  “Then what do we do?”

  Dim
itri laughed. “I’ll handle it. I have some connections at a couple clubs. I can head there, and he can disappear.”

  “Fuck no, Dimitri. You’re not my personal killer, and you’re not hiring a hit man. That’s how people get caught.”

  Oh, he was aware, but what did it matter?

  He was expendable.

  “You aren’t going to ‘handle’ anything, and you’re not heading to one of those places to do any deals. Don’t dance with the devil, son, if you can help it.”

  Dimitri was always amused when he called him ‘son’. Yes, Greyson was probably eight years older than him, but Dimitri had seen his share of death.

  It aged his soul.

  “Besides,” Greyson stated, “If I can’t do it myself, I can’t ask you to do it.”

  “I’d do it for Emma in a heartbeat,” he admitted. “I’d do anything for her.”

  It was said.

  There was the truth.

  Men only killed for so many reasons. They were both aware of those reasons. They were either paid to do it, they were angry enough to do it, or they loved the person they were doing it for.

  He didn’t doubt which Dimitri fell under.

  This man loved Emma, even if he was hard pressed to admit it. Croft could see it in his eyes when he watched her. He wasn’t blind.

  “I’ll handle it,” Greyson stated.

  “How?” Dimitri asked.

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ll work on it. I’m not rushing into it.”

  “Well, if you get caught, I get to marry your wife after you’re incarcerated.”

  He laughed. “Okay, you can handle it because the day I picture you with my wife doing anything but talking is the day I drop dead anyway.”

  Dimitri gave him that infamous grin.

  “Here I offered to help, and you’ve ruined it for me,” he teased. “Spoilsport. Seriously, how are you going to handle it?” he asked, curiously.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t really planned a murder before. I’m new at this kind of thing.”

  Yeah, Dimitri was aware.

  That was EXACTLY why he couldn’t let him do it.

  This was a jail sentence in the making.

  “How about this? WE handle it. That way you have an alibi, and you have my expertise.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want you carrying this on your soul,” he said. “You’re carrying too much, Dimitri. I can see it. As of late, you’re slipping.”