Justice is Dead (Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 7) Page 7
“Well, my preliminary findings are a gunshot to the skull, and bindings on the ankles and legs.”
“Yeah, I think I told you that when you arrived,” Emma offered. “Is there anything else? Do we have DNA to make an ID?”
She laughed. “These bones might be older than you, Detective. We won’t have ID for days if not weeks.”
Shit!
Shit!
Shit!
“What about facial recognition? I can make a few calls to the FBI, and Max will be more than happy to run it for you.”
The woman stared at her. “You just don’t want me doing your autopsies! You’ll do anything to keep me off your cases!”
All the techs were now staring.
It was about to get real in there. Emma wanted to tell the woman off, but she’d go with logic and calm.
“Actually, this isn’t an autopsy. There’s no skin or organs. It’s bones. If anything, a qualified anthropologist should be handling this, not you.”
The woman glared at her.
“Oh, look here, Detective, I have an opening in my schedule to look at the remains. It looks like Monday is the opening.”
“WHAT? That’s five days from now.”
She smiled. “Is it, Detective? That sucks for you. Maybe you should see about finding an anthropologist. I hope nothing comes in before then. I’ll have to bump you.”
Emma wanted to grab her by her gray hair and smack her head off the metal table.
Only, she couldn’t.
Chris would kill her.
“Great. I’ll be here Monday. I hope I don’t run into the commissioner and ask him for a favor. You know, I do donate a lot of money to this place.”
The woman glared.
Two could play this game.
“I also hope I don’t suggest retiring some old bat who has a stick firmly shoved up her ass.”
The techs began laughing.
Likely, because it was true.
“I think I have some time in my schedule to look at the bones tomorrow,” Doctor Hanlon hissed between clenched teeth.
“Gee. Thanks. That’s so magnanimous of you.”
If there was a way to get the bones yanked and sent to the FBI building, she would. After all, Greyson told her she could do it, but he’d be alerted.
That would be a very bad thing.
As in—it would end up resulting in her murder—by him. Greyson would most definitely put her over his knee, and she wouldn’t enjoy it.
The second she hit the hall, her phone chimed to life. It was a text from Dimitri.
‘Meet me at Terrace Glen. ASAP!’
That sounded important. As she walked down the hall, she stopped by a shadowy area in the hall. “Natasha, are you here?”
The hair on the back of her neck was standing. That generally meant that someone was watching her.
From the one dark corner, a gorgeous Russian woman materialized.
“Busted,” she teased.
“Do you need a ride back home?” she asked, heading toward the elevator.
“I could steal a car…”
“Stop. I’ll drive. You watch for crazies. Here’s a thought, look in the mirror.”
Natasha Gideon laughed. She liked Mrs. Croft. She was funny and sweet. Plus, she had amazing fashion sense. She could appreciate that.
Pulling her long red hair back, she twisted it into a bun before dropping on a pair of sunglasses. When they were in the elevator, she flipped her jacket inside out.
Emma stared at her.
“You have issues.”
“I get paid to blend. Besides, I jacked this pass from the security guard. He won’t recognize me now.”
“Jesus! When did my life get complicated?”
“When you married that sexy man and came to Vegas.”
“Yeah, don’t remind me.”
* * * Croft & Croft * * *
Club Aquarius
Hotel Bar
Six P.M.
When he got there, he couldn’t help but be impressed. It was a damn nice bar. Yes, Greyson owned the building and casino it was in, but this little gem wasn’t his.
That was probably a good thing.
It was one place he could bring his wife and not have staff fawning over them as they tried to keep their jobs. When he started going out, they discovered that they owned a lot of the strip.
It sucked.
At least here, they could have a drink, maybe make out, and have peace.
He put it on his list of hangouts.
As he and Curtis took a seat in the booth, they both ordered a drink.
“Would you like a cigar, sir?” asked the woman holding a box.
Hell, yeah, he would.
“Thank you.”
“The owner told us to watch out for you. If you were to come in, we were to offer you his personal box of cigars.”
Croft lifted a brow.
So much for anonymity.
Then, he began praying that this place didn't belong to Dominic Marianna.
“Who owns it?” he asked before taking his cigar.
“Mr. Gideon.”
He started laughing. “Ahhh, Dimitri has excellent taste in cigars, so I think I’ll have one.”
“Would you like me to prep it for you?” she asked, leaning over the table. It was crystal clear that both men were supposed to get the ample tit shot.
“No, thank you.”
Greyson prepped his own, putting one down for Chris when he came in. Curtis declined, and instead sipped his beer.
“Wow, she was rebuilt a few times,” he stated.
“I didn't notice.”
“You didn’t notice her breasts? Do you need glasses? They were right in your face.”
He hated to be the one who told the young man, but before he had money, there were women trying to get his attention. Now…it was a constant.
He stopped thinking about it.
“I didn’t even see them.”
Curtis stared at him.
“Let me explain this to the single man sharing a drink with me. I’m happily married. I have my own personal breasts waiting for me at home, and Emma’s aren’t fake. That’s better than silicone any day.”
“Jesus. What’s next?”
He snorted.
“Still, why are you doing your own cigar?” Curtis asked. “Usually, you let the babe do it.”
“That’s exactly why. It’s Emma’s job, and I’m not letting some strange woman put her hands all over my cigar. Let that be a lesson to you. When you’re in a relationship, it’ll get you killed.”
He stared at him. “Something is definitely wrong with you. I’m thinking you didn’t mean cigar as in cigar.”
Croft laughed. “You’re as quick as ever, son.”
In all honesty, he missed the man across from him. For the last few weeks, he’d hoped he’d bounce back, and it looked like he was on his way.”
“So, what do you want to talk about before Chris gets here? We have a few minutes.”
“Uh, Dimitri.”
“What about him?”
“If I have sex with his sister, do you think he’ll kill me?” Curtis asked.
Croft began laughing as he stoked his cigar. “Oh, he’ll probably torture you first. He doesn’t seem like a shooter. He’s more a pain management kind of guy. He gives you pain until you manage to pass out.”
“Come on! You’re supposed to be my mentor, and soon my father. That’s all I get?”
He had a point.
“You should talk to him first. Before you go diving in the Gideon pool, you should have the courtesy to ask the man if you can date his sister.”
“And if he says no?”
“Don’t get caught.”
“You’re not helping.”
“I know. I’m having fun. I’m on the eve of going after Marianna. I don’t want to ruin my last night of peace.”
“Grey.”
“I’m glad we’re alone. I need to say something.
”
“What?”
“If anything happens to me, our deal still stands. I want you to get out of here. I want Emma as far from this mess as possible. In my office, at the house, and inside my desk is a folder. In it, are all the passwords to our accounts, and Dante has the rest. If I go down, get out. Vegas will be imploding shortly afterwards.”
“I hate having this talk. I really hated it before, but now it makes me want to be sick.”
“I know, but I don’t trust anyone but you with Emma. You’ll have to carry on as the man of the family. She’s beautiful, and she’ll be vulnerable. Protect her. If it were reversed, I’d do it for you.”
He knew he would.
“It’s not coming to that, but okay. If hearing me say I will gives you peace, then I’ll promise.”
When he glanced over, Chris was heading his way. He was out of uniform, which was unusual, and he looked stressed.
“Have a cigar,” he said, when the man sat.
He prepped and lit it after he slid into the booth next to Greyson. As of yet, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.
This was a tossup.
At least getting a cigar ready kept his nerves at bay and his mouth shut.
The first deep puff helped him stay calm.
“Well, what can you tell me about the victim?” Chris finally asked. “I know what’s in the file, but how did Rutherford Bentley die?”
Curtis filled him in. “Gunshot to the skull, execution style. It sounds like something the mob would do.”
Greyson agreed.
Chris wanted to be sick.
On his way over there, he’d hoped that there would be something different about this case, and Emma’s was a fluke.
He had gotten the preliminary report from Doctor Hanlon, and he knew they were connected.
Shit!
Shit!
Shit!
The Crofts, unbeknownst to them, were working the same case but with two different victims. This was going to get damn messy, and soon. There was no way they wouldn’t run into each other if they were both aiming for Dominic Marianna.
“Chris, I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Dominic is behind this. I can taste it. If I’m wrong, I’ll turn in my badge.”
Chris sipped the bourbon that the waitress had placed in front of him.
“Where’s Steele?” he asked.
“At our home. I didn't want him and my brother at his condominium. He needs to be with his family. Once this hits the media, he and Dante will be back in the spotlight again. Who knows what they’ll say now?”
Chris knew how much Greyson hated the vultures aiming their claws at his family.
He hated it too.
“I need you to call my wife into work tomorrow for something.”
He stared at the man over the rim of the glass. “What? How am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know. Make something up. I want to question Steele without her hovering. I won’t be able to explain it.”
“Grey, she’s going to figure out that something is up when she sees Steele.”
The man had a point.
“I’ll work it out when the time comes.”
Christ!
They were so much alike that Chris wanted to smack them both. She was trying to keep him out of this and protect her husband, and he was doing the exact same thing.
“Grey.”
“I have to protect what’s mine. They’re mine. You’re both mine. I won’t let Dominic Marianna touch my happy home.”
It was time to get this over with once and for all. Chris slid the folder toward Greyson, waiting for him to read it.
“This is it?” he asked.
“Yes. There’s not much in there. Rutherford’s wife filed the MPR as soon as she realized he was missing. The police looked into it, but nothing came from it.”
“We know he worked for Marianna.”
“Yep, and he was a loyal employee for years. It’s likely how the Bentley’s grew their wealth. As Marianna got rich, so did Rutherford.”
Greyson scanned it.
“Maybe you should drop this,” he reiterated once more. “Let it go, Grey. You don’t need to wade into this mess.”
“I have to do it, Chris. We have intel that puts my family at risk. Marianna is planning something. Right now, we have bodyguards tailing all of us. I’m safe inside the FBI building. Who do you think he’s going for first?”
Chris swallowed. “Emma?”
“He’s going to try to kill my wife. I need her as far from this mess as possible. If she even crosses his path, Dominic is going to strike. I’ve tormented him and destroyed enough of his businesses that he’s going to want blood. It won’t be mine. I’ll be the final strike, not the first.”
“Shit!”
“What?” Greyson asked as the man tugged on his collar. “Why do you look like you’re about to boil over? You’re all red. Are you having a stroke?”
Chris didn't want to see Emma get hurt. Her husband had a very valid point. If she even went at Marianna to interview him, he’d hurt her. The man was desperate.
He had to do something.
Chris wanted to save her.
He didn't want to lose Emma. It looked like their deal was off. He’d promised to keep quiet unless Greyson asked for help.
Well, he was.
There was his out.
“There’s something you need to know,” Chris said, signaling for two more bourbons.
They were going to need them.
“What?” he asked, his eyes filling with concern.
So, he told him, and waited for the eruption.
It didn’t take long.
* * * Croft & Croft * * *
He was worried.
The man he wanted to hire wasn’t available. That made Dominic sick to his stomach. As he sat behind his desk, stressing the situation, he wasn’t sure what to do.
His head was pounding.
His blood pressure was up.
In all actuality, he wanted to be sick.
Inside the police headquarters, he had a spy. That person shared everything that Emma Croft, and the other cops, did.
Now it was his worst-case scenario.
They found another body.
This couldn’t be happening—not to him. He had been reassured that they would never be found.
In fact, he’d paid top dollar to ensure that Rutherford and Famiano went missing forever.
Now, they were back from the grave.
Dominic wasn’t sure what was going on, but this couldn’t be good.
As he sat there, drinking wine right from the bottle, there was a knock to his office door.
“Come in.”
Kenneth James, his attorney, peeked his head around the corner. “Boss, are you okay?”
The wine went flying, leaving a red stain on the wall. It ran like blood, making Dominic even angrier.
“I don’t get it. I’ve tried to buy him, destroy them, bribe them, and kill them. Why won’t the Crofts cave?” he asked, closing his eyes.
Kenneth wisely said nothing. He’d seen these meltdowns before.
They happened right before someone died.
“What more is there to do to get them to see that there is only one way in Vegas, and it’s my way? I’ve worked too hard, Kenneth. I’ve given too much to walk away. What do I do? How much pain do I have to inflict on them before they finally get it? Do I have to gut Emma Croft in front of him? Do I have to torture them both? What will make them go away?”
The man stood there.
When Dominic glanced over, he realized it wasn’t rhetorical, but actually a legitimate question.
“Unfortunately, you need to do something so over the top that Greyson Croft has no choice but to come at you.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know, boss. I’m just the attorney. This is your area.”
Dominic closed his eyes. There had to be a way. Then he heard the droning of some r
eporter on a news station on his TV.
They were talking about the commissioner having an open house at the precinct on Sunday.
The wheels began turning.
He would bait Greyson Croft at the Spring Fling Saturday, and then make his move on Sunday.
He started laughing.
Kenneth stared at him as if he was insane, and that was fine with him. The Crofts drove him to it.
This was all their fault, and they had to pay.
Dearly...
If this worked, he’d not only go down as the man who leveled Greyson Croft, but he’d make sure they didn't recover. There was no way they could.
It was impossible.
This had to be their breaking point.
Greyson wasn’t that strong.
No one was.
“Kenneth, call the brothers. I have a job for them. For enough money, they’d kill their own mother.”
Yes, they’d be perfect.
Kenneth knew the boss was losing it. He was calling out a couple miscreants who were uncontrollable.
It was a bad sign.
This was definitely going to be epic, but not in a good way.
“Are you sure, boss? They’re out of control.”
He laughed. “I feel out of control. It fits my mood. If I’m going down, I’m taking Vegas with me.”
Kenneth made the call.
The shit was going to hit the fan.
Chapter Three
Terrace Glen
Wednesday Night
As she sat in her office, she could hear the staccato of footsteps down the hall. From the pattern, she knew it wasn’t going to be her husband.
Or Curtis.
And it wasn’t Dante or Steele either.
That meant it could only be one other man—Dimitri. From his text, she knew he was coming, but rarely did she ever hear him running through the house. That alarmed her. Immediately, she reached for her gun, almost expecting the worst.
“Emma,” he said, pushing the door open.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up and ready for whatever had him stirred up.
“Your husband is on to us.”
She gasped. “How?”