Heaven is Weeping (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 5) Page 9

  In fact, she couldn’t blame him. While Tessa could live without the sex, there was something she couldn’t survive without.

  His love.

  Cuddling against him, she took in the scent of his body wash, and it reminded her of days past. Soon, they’d be getting married, except every time she brought up walking down the aisle, he got upset.

  Maybe he’d changed his mind.

  What if he only proposed out of feeling bad for her?

  After all, Paris knew about her past. If he tossed her away, she’d break. Maybe he was keeping her around to save her heart.

  Tessa was dying to ask him.

  Leaving kisses across this throat, she whispered in his ear. “I love you, Paris. Forever,” she promised.

  Then, she freed herself from his body. She’d go take a shower and start her day. While she should be enjoying being a fiancée, she wasn’t.

  Tessa was waiting to be handed her walking papers.

  Then she didn't know what she’d do next.

  When Paris could hear the sound of the water running, he finally opened his eyes. While Tessa was rubbing against his body, he wanted desperately to have her touch him. Just the feel of her on his flesh called to him like nothing else.

  But then, he thought about her babying him.

  Gone was the need.

  In its place was pity--hers for him.

  Paris sighed in frustration as he pulled himself out of bed. Now, he’d hurry and get dressed before Tessa was done. If he didn't, she’d be asking to help dress him--like a child.

  Not undress him like a man.

  He got to work, and fast. He was going to hurry and leave the house. Screw breakfast. He wanted to get to the police station and focus on the job. Paris needed a distraction.

  He prayed for one.

  Now, he only hoped he’d get his wish.

  * * *

  Homicide Precinct

  Las Vegas

  Croft giddily drove them to work. He’d alerted his people that he would be out in the field for a little while, and if they needed him to contact him there.

  With Marianna sniffing around, he was going to stand guard over his kitten. After last night, he’d decided to fight harder, not letting her go. When he glanced over at her, she was grinning smugly.

  “What?” he asked, already aware of what was going on in her head.

  “I was thinking about the shower, Mr. Croft. You’re sexy all covered in soap.”

  He snorted. “You’re a husband molester. I let you win,” he offered, bringing her knuckles to his lips.

  “I’ll take what I can get,” Emma replied.

  When he pulled into the parking lot, he saw them waiting. There was a media frenzy, and once they saw them together, it was only going to get worse.

  It looked like it was time to stop fooling around.

  It was official. They were back to work.

  “Do you want me to handle them?” he asked, picking up his sunglasses as they prepared to face them down.

  “No. I’ll take this half, and you take yours,” she stated, leaning over to kiss him on the lips. Who knew when they were going to get another shot?

  “Okay, honey. I have your back,” he said, as they both hopped out of the Navigator. Immediately, there was a barrage of reporters’ questions.

  “Mrs. Croft, what will you be wearing to the Midsummer Night’s party?” one yelled.

  “Strike one,” she called. “When I’m wearing my gun, it’s Detective Croft.”

  Greyson tried hard not to smile. He loved how his wife could control the media horde. She had lots of practice.

  “Director, what are you wearing?” He ignored them as always.

  “What about your case?” called the reporter that Emma had spoken to the other day.

  “Well, Keith, I’m glad you asked,” she said, stopping to talk to the man. “We have four victims and other than that, the investigation is ongoing.”

  “Can you tell us what killed all four of them?”

  Before she could answer, there was outrage among the reporters.

  “You’re playing favorites!” some woman yelled. “Stop hogging the Crofts!”

  If anything, it was amusing.

  Emma stopped walking to face them down. “What’s your question?” she asked, willing to play fair.

  “We heard you were sold at auction for almost two million dollars. When are you paying up?”

  Croft hated the way the woman asked that. It made him feel like his wife was nothing more than some object which could be passed around. Before he could object, she voiced her opinion.

  “Oh, if you thought I was playing favorites before, you’ll really hate it now.” She pointed at Keith Powell. “Do you want an exclusive on this case when it’s done?” she asked.

  He looked at her like this was Christmas morning, and she was offering up a sleigh full of presents.

  “Hell yeah!”

  “Done. I’ll contact you at the end of the case, or you can email me.” She scribbled her info on the back of one of her business cards.

  There was outrage, but there was nothing they could do about it, and they knew it.

  “Zip it! He’s the only one asking me about my damn job. I’m sick of answering clothing questions. The next reporter who asks me my shoe size, or if this is my real hair color, is blackballed from this beat!”

  The reporter took the card and raced away while the rest of the people bitched and moaned.

  Once inside, Greyson gave her a kiss. “That was beautiful. You got them to stop asking questions, and we got away.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she replied, grinning.

  “What’s this Midsummer Night’s deal?” he asked, trying to remember if it was on his schedule.

  “Randall is throwing his annual summer party tomorrow. He has a Vegas show that it kicks off every year. We were invited last month.”

  “Oh, are we going?” he asked, following her into the squad room. Immediately, he saw the change in her demeanor. “What?”

  “I’d like to go, but you haven’t exactly been approachable, so I declined.”

  “Emma, honey, I’m sorry. We’re going. I’ll call Randall and talk to him today. What do we have to wear?”

  She kissed him fast. “It’s like his Vegas production. It’s about a bunch of fairies.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  Emma started laughing. “You heard me. While you’re calling Randall, can you get me a costume from him? I don’t have time to shop,” she admitted.

  “Why do I feel like I was set up?” he growled, nipping her ear. If it meant dressing like an idiot, he’d do it for his woman. After all, he needed to make up for the last eight weeks.

  “There you two are,” came Chris Ford’s voice. As he approached, he could tell there was something different. They were both smiling and back to normal.

  Whew! He dodged a bullet on this one. It could have ended very differently, and he knew it.

  “Hey, Captain. How are you?”

  “I’m good, Emma. I put your profiler in the conference room. He’s already started working with the files that the ME sent up. I figured you’d be heading down there first thing for an update.”

  “Thank you,” she offered, smiling sweetly. “Oh, and Chris?” she called, moving past the man.

  “Yeah.”

  “If you ever go behind my back and rat me out to the husband again, I’m going to kick your ass. He may be big and scary, but let me assure you that I’m the crazy and unpredictable one.”

  She said it so nicely that it was hard to tell if she was kidding or not, so he went with the first and smiled sheepishly. “Hey! I was just being a friend,” he offered, looking toward Croft for backup.

  “He’s not going to help you, since he’s in just as much trouble,” she called, heading toward her desk.

  Both men began laughing.

  They had no doubt.

  At her desk, she dropped off her purse and noticed her
partner was staring at her. In fact, so was Curtis.

  “What?”

  “Are you and the husband okay?” she asked, nodding to Greyson.

  “Um, I’m standing right here,” he offered. “I’m old, not out of my mind,” Croft stated, earning a blown kiss from his wife.

  The two partners stared at them. Something had to have happened. They looked normal. She was holding his hand, and he was grinning.

  What did they miss?

  Emma chose to ignore their questions, only because Detective Heath Spencer was right there watching them. “I’m heading down to autopsy. Paris Archer is in the conference room working on a profile, so if you two want, you can head in there and help him out. When we’re done, we’re going to see what we have and where we’re taking this.”

  They nodded. As they began moving away, Curtis called to his boss. “Director, can I see you for a second?” he asked, motioning off to the side.

  Emma crossed toward the elevators. “I’ll meet you downstairs,” she offered, giving him a moment with Curtis. Emma knew from their ‘talk’ last night that the two men had some issues to work out. She only hoped that it would be soon. They were going to be starting this case and needed focus.

  Croft waited until his wife was gone before focusing on Curtis. Over the last few weeks, he had some anger toward the man, but it was time to let it go.

  Emma taught him that.

  To move on, he had to forgive.

  Curtis led him to an empty office. Once inside, he stared at him. “I don’t know what’s going on, Grey, but if you need me, even if it’s to get a beer and talk, I’m here.”

  Yeah, he wished he’d known that days ago.

  It was almost laughable.

  “Okay.”

  When Croft went to leave, Curtis stopped him. “What’s wrong between us?” he asked. “I get this feeling that I did something, and you’re upset by it.”

  He stared at him. Last night, he’d learned he couldn’t keep everyone out. He’d made a circle of friends, now he needed to keep it. “I had some family issues.”

  “Okay. Do you want to talk about it?”

  Croft ran his hands through his hair, pondering what he should do. Then, he opted just to go with it. “I’ll be blunt and to the point. You hurt me, Curtis. I’d just found out my brother was gay, and then he left me. Then, you did the same thing. I know I’m not fun to be around. I get that I’m just your boss, but I thought you meant what you said about us being family. I needed a ‘brother’ to lean on, and you bailed. So, yeah, I’m upset. I’m not mad over this whole thing, but hurt.”

  Curtis didn't see this coming. “Grey, I’m sorry. I didn't want you to think I was trying to get away from you. I was giving you space to work through this. I didn't mean to hurt you. You’re my only family,” he said, feeling horrible. He’d done exactly what the man had said.

  “When you needed a place to stay, I never thought twice, but when I was reeling from a sucker punch of losing my brother, you were gone. Yeah, I hurt. Everyone sees me as the ‘Ice King’ but I do have feelings.”

  Never in all his years did he think the man in front of him would admit any of this, but it was true. He often saw his boss as indestructible, but that wasn’t the case. Croft had feelings too.

  Curtis was a little shocked. “I’m sorry, Grey.”

  He shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s out in the open, we discussed it, and we’ll move on.”

  As he went to move for the door, Curtis couldn’t let it end like that. Grabbing his arm, he hugged the man. Sometimes, you just needed to feel loved. When he was at his most vulnerable, the man had shared his feelings, and it had healed him.

  Now, it was time to do the same.

  When the day was shitty or you felt all alone, you needed to know that someone had your back.

  Croft didn't fight it. In fact, that one hug spoke volumes of the love between them. He’d picked this man as his family for a reason. Curtis Briggs was a good guy.

  “Thank you,” he said, patting him on the back.

  “If you need to talk, Grey, you can always call me. In fact, I’m coming back to stay at the condo too.”

  Croft appreciated it. “You don’t have to,” he offered. “You and Brynn are having a good time.”

  He punched him in the arm. “Mom cooks better, but don’t tell my babe that, or I’m screwed.”

  That made him laugh. “Okay, son, see you at home tonight.”

  “Grey, one more thing?” Curtis asked.

  He glanced over at him. “Am I your favorite brother now?” he asked, grinning wickedly. “You can tell me. I won’t spill it to anyone.”

  Croft laughed. “You’re out of your mind.”

  Yeah, he was, but when you were with family, you were allowed to be.

  ~ Chapter Four ~

  Emma waited for her husband in the lobby just outside the autopsy suite. Unfortunately, she knew what was coming. Each time her husband and Steele Bentley had come in contact, it had been nothing less than tense.

  She could see both sides.

  Here, Steele was a grown man, humiliated to have them walk in on him and Dante during a privately shared embrace. Her husband was also embarrassed because he’d been privy to it. What was causing the whole mess was that both men were stubborn, unwilling to budge, or let it go.

  It was getting irritating, and now affecting how she did her job. Not only was she forced to think about the victims, she was forced to navigate this mess.

  Something had to give.

  Once the elevator opened, her husband was still smiling. The second he cleared the doors, his demeanor changed. It was as if he was going to battle, and the enemy was behind the doors.

  Yeah, Emma hated every second of this mess.

  Inside, she greeted her friend, trying to play intermediary in this screwed up game of testosterone-laden nonsense.

  “Good morning, Emma,” Steele said, nodding at the man beside her. “Director.”

  Croft acknowledged his greeting, but offered nothing more. What did you say to your brother’s boyfriend? Had Dante not run like a big chicken, there wouldn’t be an issue between any of them. Croft was more than fine with his brother choosing his own path in life. There was no way he’d love the man less because of his sexual orientation.

  But… he didn’t respect the way he avoided discussing it like a man.

  It was hard not to be pissed off when the bomb was dropped, and then they retreated without addressing it.

  There was no anger.

  Only hurt.

  Okay, maybe that wasn’t completely true. Greyson was upset with Steele. After all, it felt like he stole his brother away. Croft never saw it coming, and that damaged his masculine pride. He was known for seeing everything before it hit, and his brother being gay…that was a shocker.

  “I just finished up the last of the three women,” he offered, sipping his coffee. “You’re lucky you missed it.”

  She could only imagine. The decaying corpse had to be full of digested goo. Yeah, her day was going too good to start off with that.

  “What can you tell me, Doc?” she asked, trying to amp up the cheer level to balance out the mess going on around them.

  This was exhausting.

  “I can tell you that all three had the same COD. They were indeed strangled. When I opened them up, they had broken hyoid bones.”

  Emma made notes, even though there were files upstairs waiting for her. She liked to be able to take the information with her wherever she went. She had a methodology to solving a case, and this was it.

  “What else?” she asked, noticing that both men were staring each other down.

  Good God, she needed a vacation.

  “There was evidence that they each had sex prior to their deaths.”

  “Sex or rape?” Croft asked, trying to play nice.

  “I couldn’t tell you because most of the tissue was too degraded to check for bruising, but I can give you one more piece of the puzzle
though,” the ME offered.

  “Yes?”

  “Someone left some swimmers behind. I have DNA for you,” he offered.

  Emma was excited. That meant they had a ‘fingerprint’ to trace back to the killer, if he struck again, they would be one step closer. “Did you run it?” she asked hopefully.

  “I did, and it didn't pull a match,” he offered. “I wish I could give you more, but at this time, I can’t,” Steele said sympathetically. “I don’t know how far you can run with this information, but hopefully it’ll lead you to something more pertinent.”

  Emma knew that this was always the hardest part of the game. “Did you get them identified?”

  He handed them sheets of paper that he’d printed out for them. Steele liked to be ready for his detectives, especially during a serial killing case.

  “Your first victim, Polly Anderson, went missing around four weeks ago. I just got the dentals in and made confirmation, since a visual is impossible. I put TOD around the same time, since the decomp fits. She was a soupy mess.”

  Emma stared down into her pretty smiling face. She had long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes.

  “Then, we have victim number two,” he offered, passing off her printed out driver’s license picture. “Candice Campbell went missing two weeks ago, and she died about that same time.”

  Croft studied this picture. Again, she had brown hair and blue eyes. Greyson didn't need the expertise of a profiler to see where this was heading. “He has a type,” he offered his wife. “The killer is likely picking his victims because of their hair and eyes.”

  In a way, he was relieved. He’d managed to dodge a bullet on this one. Emma was a fiery redhead with emerald eyes.

  Great!

  This was one weight off his shoulders. Croft didn't have to worry that she’d be on the killer’s radar.

  “I can see that. Is victim three the same?” she asked.

  “Yep. Your final woman turned up missing less than five days ago. So, we were basically in the ballpark. Her name was Zara Harris, and she too was a brunette with blue eyes.”