Hell Is Burning Page 9

  Only, it wasn’t.

  Inside the cold room, he stormed toward the ME. Steele Bentley was standing in front of the table, protecting the body with his own. He could see that the man was coming apart.

  He couldn’t blame him.

  “Let me see!”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Agent,” he stated. “If there’s anything we can do for you, please let me know.”

  Curtis pushed past him, nearly knocking the doctor over. When he reached the table, he whipped back the sheet in an effort to prove them all wrong.

  That’s when he saw her.

  He couldn’t breathe.

  It appeared Greyson wasn’t lying.

  There Brynn was, and she looked horrible. There was a vicious red ring around her throat where a rope had cut into her flesh, and her skin was pale and gray.

  And her eyes…

  They were open, but already beginning to cloud with the haze of death. They, alone, told the tale. His wife had died brutally.

  “Brynn…” he hissed, struggling not to throw up.

  There, lying cold and motionless on the table, was the woman he’d married. She was already autopsied, and he wanted to be sick. They’d cut into her.

  Damn them!

  They cut into her body!

  The ME had dug around in her on some sick crime scavenger hunt for the truth.

  She’d been violated.

  He turned. “No! This can’t be happening! I…this can’t…she’s not….”

  Steele went to move toward him, only to have the man lose it. Curtis started grabbing anything he could find and began throwing them around the room.

  Tools.

  Trays.

  Specimen containers.

  Nothing was safe from his explosion. As he wrecked the place, neither man tried to stop him. They let him do it because had it been them, they, too, would have needed that release. Here was his one chance at venting some of the rage that was brewing in him.

  When he was finished storming around, they stood there. No one spoke. What could you say?

  “This can’t be real.”

  He stared at the head Fed.

  “Tell me I’m asleep. Tell me this isn’t real, and she’s not dead. Grey, please tell me that she’s not dead. I need you to tell me that somehow there’s been a mistake.”

  “I can’t, Curtis. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  He began gagging as the bile rose up and finally won. Rushing toward the biohazard bin, Curtis lost the battle. There, he tossed his lunch until it felt like his guts were turning inside out. With each purge of his body, his heart ached more and more.

  When he finished, Greyson was there with a handful of paper towels and a busted nose.

  So much had fallen apart. He’d lost his family, his grandmother, his wife, and there was nothing left. He’d been stripped bare of anything or anyone he loved.

  He was destroyed.

  The last two months had been brutal, and it left him bleeding.

  “I have to go home.”

  Greyson watched the man leave. A part of him wanted to stop Curtis, but he knew if he followed, there’d be more anger.

  “That went well. Should one of us go after him?” Steele asked, looking around the morgue at the wreckage left behind in the man’s wake.

  “No. Curtis needs to regroup. I know if it was me, I’d need some time alone to vent.”

  That was a lie.

  If it was his life left in shambles, and Emma lying on that table, he’d be following her.

  God help him, but he’d be following her into death. He was ashamed to think it, but it was the truth.

  “I need you to do me a favor,” he began.

  “Okay, but let me look at your nose. It may be broken,” Steele offered as he pulled out a first aid kit.

  “Sure. Patch me up, Doc. Then I have to hit the road. There’s a lot to do.”

  “No problem.”

  Greyson stood there as his friend fixed him up. Honestly, he didn't care about his nose. With some ice, he’d heal. He was more concerned with the man he once called brother. His heart was broken.

  No...it was ruined.

  Chapter Three

  Tuesday Late afternoon

  When he finally made his way back to his office, all of his employees were staring at him. It probably had a lot to do with his swollen face and the blood on his shirt.

  Croft looked like he was in a bar room brawl, and he couldn’t blame them for gawking. He was a wreck, inside and out. The entire time Steele was patching him back up, he was only thinking about one person.

  Not himself.

  Not his wife.

  But Curtis.

  He was worried about the man.

  Greyson took a chance, calling the man’s cell. He hoped that there was a slim chance that he’d reach out and answer. There was always that hope that he was at a bar, getting shitfaced drunk and not hurting himself.

  It was a sad day when Greyson had that on his wish list, especially after the mess he encountered with Steele at the gay bar.

  If Curtis got drunk, he’d wrangle him and take him back to Sky Villa. There was no way they would leave him out there all by himself. Croft knew Curtis’s grandmother, the women who raised him, had passed away not that long ago. He and Emma wanted to go pay their respects, but Curtis would have made a scene. Instead, they stayed away to bide their time.

  Tonight, he’d have to find his ex-partner because it was what his heart told him was the right thing to do.

  But first…

  He had to face the team.

  Once in his office, Emma gasped, and yet she didn't have to ask what the hell had happened.

  This screamed the work of one damaged man.

  “Wow,” was all she said.

  “Yeah, you’re telling me,” Paris offered. He’d never thought anyone could coldcock the boss, but it appeared he was wrong.

  Emma knew the truth. Greyson was the sacrificial lamb. She was up and out of her chair to reach his side. Her tough husband would be hurting too.

  Not from the strikes, but because he loved the man who lashed out at him.

  After wrapping her arms around his waist, he offered her a kiss. “I’m fine.”

  “It didn't go well, did it?” Mace asked.

  Greyson freed himself from Emma’s embrace because he wanted to break something. It was best he didn't risk his temper. First, he was upset, but anger would be right behind. Pulling off his tie, he laughed sardonically. “It could have been far worse.”

  He dropped into the seat behind the large mahogany desk. What he needed was a drink, his wife in his lap, and to rewind life back to the day before this mess ever happened.

  Shit!

  In fact, screw it! Greyson wanted to go back three months ago and redo so much more than just one day. Only, that wasn’t going to happen.

  “Well? Anything?” he asked, as his wife moved to stand behind him. Immediately, she began rubbing the knots from his tense shoulders.

  It offered little in the way of easing stress, but eased the pain in his heart.

  “We have our files. Tomorrow, we’ll regroup at our place. I think it’ll be best to meet up there. If this gets out tonight, we won’t want to be here when it does,” Emma offered.

  Croft was good with that. Like he told the captain, keeping Emma behind closed doors was probably a very good thing. While he couldn’t protect Curtis’s wife, he could guard his own.

  “Mace, you can head out. You and Emma have been at this all day. We’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast at our place.”

  The man pulled on his jacket and tied back his long Native hair. “Hang in there, Greyson. We’ll find them. Emma and I will wrap this up for your agent.”

  He didn't doubt it.

  Next, Tessa stood.

  “Before you two go, I want to say something,” Greyson began.

  They both stopped.

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “Sunday, get married.”
/>
  They looked at him in surprise.

  He didn't wait for them to speak. Instead, he continued, “I know that you’re waiting for everyone to be free, and we appreciate that, but I’m ordering you to get to that chapel and tie the knot. After what I had to see today, there’s nothing more important than marriage.”

  “We can wait,” Tessa offered. “We really want you and Emma to be there, but now there’s a case. We can finish this up first.”

  He stood. “No, you can’t. If you always wait, you’re never going to have time. We’ll be there Sunday Afternoon. It doesn’t matter what’s happening here, we’re going to be ready. It won’t kill us to take a few hours off to celebrate life.”

  Paris couldn’t believe it was coming. “Really?”

  He nodded. “We have the commissioner’s charity ball Saturday night, and we’re obligated to be there, so what’s one more event to attend?”

  Emma took her husband’s big hand in hers. Lovingly, her fingers traced their wedding rings. “We’ll be there to see you get married. We promise.”

  Paris couldn’t believe this was happening. The date was locked down, and now all he needed was the bride. “I hope you’re ready,” he stated.

  She laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve never been more ready in all my life. Sunday couldn’t come soon enough!”

  That’s what Greyson needed to hear. “Why don’t you two head home? We’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early,” he stated.

  With that, they rolled out, Paris holding the door for his bride to be, and her gazing down at him with so much love.

  “That was sweet,” Emma stated.

  “I meant what I said, especially today. We all need to see that love is still important. After this, I don’t think I’ll ever take it for granted again.”

  She agreed there. “Want to head home?”

  There was no place he’d rather be, but unfortunately, he had somewhere else to go. But first…

  “If you were to ever die, Emma, I’d take my life.”

  She stared over at him. “What?”

  “You heard me. If something were to ever happen to you, I’d die inside. I wouldn’t want to go on. You’re the only reason I get up and keep going.”

  She turned to face him. Without a single hesitation, despite his office door being open, she went into his arms. Emma clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder.

  “I know you would, and that scares the shit out of me. I also know that telling you how insane that is, will be useless. You’re too stubborn to listen.”

  He laughed.

  “Know what scares me?” he asked.

  She wasn’t sure where he was taking this. “What?”

  “Curtis is just like me. I made him into the man he is today. He was like a baby duck, and I imprinted on his life. He’s a caveman, and without his babe…”

  Emma gasped. “You don’t think he’d hurt himself, do you?”

  “Unfortunately, I do. When he left the morgue, a part of me wanted to follow him, despite wanting to give him space. If it were me, I’d want everyone to leave me alone so I could die.”

  “Grey! We have to find him.”

  He was well aware. “I know where he’ll be, and that’s why I have an escort for you tonight.”

  She stared at him. “I’m going with you.”

  Greyson lifted her chin so they were eye to eye. “No, you’re not. I need to do this, and I need you to trust me to do what’s right. Steele is waiting for you down in the morgue. He and Dante will be taking you home.”

  She wanted to be mad, but ever since they got really wealthy, the crazies were coming out of the woodwork. “Okay, Grey, but I want a promise.”

  “Yes?”

  “Find our child and bring him home. It’s time the baby duck returned to the nest. He’s been out there alone for far too long.”

  He agreed. He was going to do just that.

  “He may hate us, Greyson, but we love him. If we love him enough, it’ll make it better.”

  Croft was well aware. “Don’t worry, my sweet. I’ll make sure he’s well aware.”

  And he would.

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  He waited until Emma was gone.

  When she was safely on her way with his brother and Steele, he was able to focus on the job at hand. Using his computer, he pulled up Curtis’s new address before heading down to his vehicle.

  Fortunately for him, the media was off chasing his wife on the way back to their condo. It gave him a little bit of wiggle room to sneak out of his office.

  There may just be a God after all.

  All the way to Curtis’s place, he kept thinking about the last two months, and all the times he could have shown up at the younger man’s door and forced him to listen.

  Then he thought about how the man was just like him. Chances were it wouldn’t have worked. They were cut from the same cloth.

  They were stubborn.

  Pigheaded.

  And two cavemen.

  No, it never would have worked, and he knew it. Now it would, and that’s all that mattered. There would be no choice for the young Fed. Greyson wasn’t leaving Curtis alone there, and that was that.

  As he pulled up to the little house, he couldn't help but think that someone was trying to have a happy life. It looked like the American dream, all the way down to the white picket fence. Yet, death found them.

  It always did.

  Ultimately, there was no hiding from it. When your time was up, it was up. Brynn Westmore-Briggs was proof of that.

  Getting out of his vehicle, he headed to the front door. The lights were on, but the house was silent. Banging on the cheery colored door, Greyson waited for Curtis to open up.

  When he didn't, that sick feeling began welling up in his chest. Maybe he was too late. It sickened him that he’d let the opportunity to save the man slip through his fingers.

  Peeking in the front window, he saw Curtis, and he wasn’t alone. On his lap was his Glock, and in his one hand was a bottle of booze.

  Croft had seen it before with so many of his soldier friends. They’d come home, unable to survive in that world, so they’d drink themselves numb and then eat their guns.

  “Curtis, let me in!” he yelled, banging on the window.

  Instead of listening, the man simply chugged the whiskey, and then picked up his gun.

  Greyson knew there was very little time left. So, he did all he could. He kicked in the door.

  Once it was open, he raced to the quaint living room to stop Curtis. When he slid to a stop, Curtis was watching him, the nose of his gun pressed below his chin, pointing upward.

  ‘Jesus, don’t let me see this,’ Croft prayed. Death was hideous enough, but to watch someone he loved invite it in…it would kill him.

  “Leave.”

  Greyson wasn’t going to do that, and this was exactly why he wouldn’t let Emma come there. If he failed, and Curtis did take his life, he didn't want his wife seeing that forever.

  He’d caused all this, so he should carry it.

  He was a fucking martyr.

  “Put it down, Curtis.”

  “Why? I have no one left in my life. My wife is dead, and I’m all alone. Why should I stay? Life didn't want me, and now I don’t want it.”

  He drank again from the bottle.

  “What will tomorrow bring? How am I supposed to walk around here and not think about her? She loved me, and I let her down. I let everyone down.”

  Croft took a step closer. “You didn’t, Curtis. You haven’t let me down. If Brynn was here, she wouldn’t want this. You know that. She’d yell at you for doing this.”

  He paused.

  “You’re not alone. I’m here. I came for you, Curtis.”

  The young man laughed sardonically. “Why do you care about me? We didn't part ways on a good note. I told you to fuck off. I told you I hated you. I called you every name in the book, and made up a few along the way.”

  �
��I don’t hate you, Curtis. I didn't forget about you. I've checked on you, and made sure you were okay.”

  That seemed to surprise him.

  “You did?”

  “Who do you think your partner’s been talking to on the phone? I check in on you every damn day. There isn't a single one that goes by that I don’t worry about you.”

  Yes, he was shocked.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re my brother, and you’re my family, Curtis. We may have had a fight, but I still care about you. I love you, Curtis. You and Dante are my brothers. I will never hate you, even when you loathe me. I won’t turn on you even if you think I’m the lowest scum on the Earth. You’re mine to love.”

  Tears filled Curtis’s eyes.

  “I pushed you away. I hated you.”

  “I’m stubborn. I don’t go away easily, ask Emma.”

  “My life is a lie.”

  Greyson took the opportunity to move a little closer. The second he saw Curtis’s finger going to the trigger, he was going to jump on him. They might get shot, or they might not.

  It was a crapshoot, but he was willing to risk it.

  “I don’t know how to be alone. My grandmother is gone now, you and Emma are out of my reach, and now Brynn is dead. No one can love me. I’m not worthy of it. Look at my own mother.”

  “I’m here, son. I came for you. Just come home with me, Curtis. If you still think we aren’t here for you in the morning, I’ll let you walk away, but for tonight, come home.”

  He stared at the man. “I don’t have a home. I don’t deserve one.”

  “Yes, you do. We kept your bedroom the same, and the box of comic books is on the dresser. It’s been waiting for you to come back. Emma wants you to come home. We’ve missed you.”

  He reached for the gun, hoping the man wouldn’t do anything stupid.

  When he didn't, he relaxed.

  “I’ll help you, and so will Emma. We can get you through this if you just lean on us.”

  “Please,” he whispered, tears filling his eyes. “I can’t sleep here. I can’t be here. The ghost of my marriage haunts me here.”

  The man started crying.

  Greyson dropped to his knees and tucked the gun into the back of his pants. Instead of saying anything, he pulled the young agent into his embrace. “I have you, Curtis. I have you.”