Celestia is Falling (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 1)

by Morgan Kelley

  “Cut her some slack. At least until you figure what’s going on in her life. The file on her arrives tomorrow with the team, and then maybe you can get some perspective.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Croft, as the car came to a stop.

  “Could I get that in writing?” he joked. “You are so off your game you’re saying things that you’d never normally admit.”

  “Now you’re close to crossing the line, partner,” Croft laughed, jogging into the cabin to grab a quick shower before heading over to Emma’s.

  Tonight, they needed to talk.

  * * *

  It had been a productive day. He’d killed another whore, scared the sheriff, and stirred up the town.

  It gave him a sense of pride to know that his work was appreciated by the FBI. By now, they had to be horrified at how the woman was killed.

  Any sexual contact with her seemed so distasteful, but in the end he figured he’d show her terror before he ended her life. Plus, it screwed with the sheriff and agents. Switching it up, he was going to make this as hard as possible.

  When the whore begged for her life and to save her baby, it only fueled the hate and anger in him. He didn’t know that she was pregnant, and once the words were out the rage exploded.

  He wanted to hack her to pieces, and he did.

  Such a vile woman to get herself knocked up.

  In the end it didn’t matter, since he had the final say on whether she lived or not. Death seemed that much more appropriate in his mind. She didn’t deserve a child, and he was saving that kid a life full of pain and suffering.

  It was for the best. No one knew better than him.

  He sat in the darkness watching the cabin, wondering what the woman inside was doing. He only hoped she was scared shitless…

  Soon, he would see if she was a worthy adversary in his game.

  The Hunter stalked off into the shadows and back to the woman waiting in his own bed.

  * * *

  Once in the shower, Emma cranked the heat to the highest setting. What she needed now, more than anything, was to scorch the blood from her body and soul. Pulling out her puff, she dumped a liberal amount of lavender shower gel all over her skin. The routine was the same. She scrubbed the blood away that she perceived coating her flesh. She closed her eyes to visualize it washing down the drain. Only then could she let it go and feel human again.

  Emma wanted to sob at the cold filling her. Today was a bitter reminder of her past, and the possibility that Celestia was falling prey to the blood that chased her.

  Would she have to leave here now too?

  Standing under the spray, she scrubbed the smell of death from her hair. Emma needed to warm up, and fast. It was a long bloody day. Deep inside, she began thinking about the one person that pushed back the fear and chill. She didn’t understand why the agent made her feel better, but he simply did. What she wouldn’t give to have him with her right then. In that moment, she could use his calm resolve, silvery gaze, and strength.

  Pushing it out of her mind, Emma forced herself to remember that ultimately, she was on her own. When he discovered what a disaster she was, he’d be running fast. Could she blame him?

  Closing her eyes and standing under the scalding spray, she sent out a silent prayer that when this was all over, she’d be able to survive.

  He knocked on the door to her cabin, waiting for her to answer. When there was no reply, he tried the knob. It twisted under his hand easily. “Oh, Emma,” he muttered. They were going to have a conversation about locking her door behind her too. Croft added it to his mental list of things he wanted to cover.

  The walk over from his cabin had cooled his temper considerably as had the ice cold shower he forced himself to endure. Even furious with her, she heated his blood and made him crazy. Now came the talk that he’d been waiting for since meeting her.

  It was time.

  “Emma, honey, are you here?” he called. When no one answered, he stepped into the cabin, locking the door behind him as if making some silent point.

  From the hall, he could hear the water running in her shower, and he wondered if he lingered there if she would wander out all warm and naked.

  Damn it!

  The effect of the ice cold shower was already gone. Croft forced himself to not dwell on the visual floating through his head. Instead, he focused on the mission at hand. He was there to get answers first and foremost.

  Staring around the room, he noticed the room was sparse of personal effects. Walking into the kitchen, he searched for the teapot, figuring he’d help Emma relax. Something told him the conversation coming was going to stress her out further, and after the day they all had, it was the last thing he intended. As furious as he was, his overwhelming desire was to care for her and offer her comfort.

  Croft put the water on to boil, dumping the loose tea he found into the pot. Sniffing the leaves, he found that it reminded him of Emma. There was the slight scent of lavender. When the water was ready, he pulled out two mugs and headed to the couch to wait for her.

  It was time for one hell of an epic showdown.

  When Emma stepped out of the shower, she pulled on panties and her terrycloth robe. The comfortable warmth gave her an iota of peace. The simple familiarity made her relax more. Later, she’d shed it when she meditated. That morning in her haste to get to the agent’s cabin, she’d been forced to skip the ritual, and she was paying for it.

  When she exited the bathroom, she was vigorously rubbing her hair with a towel. The trained cop in her knew she wasn’t alone, and the remaining part of her that was in her sexual prime knew he was near. Emma dropped the towel and stared at him.

  He was lounging on her couch, much like a large sleek cat. The easiness of his body showed he was making himself completely at home in her surroundings.

  “Greyson! You scared the hell out of me! You’re lucky I didn’t have my gun.” She looked at the table and saw that there was tea. “You made that for me?”

  It cooled her temper and warmed her soul.

  “I did. I figured you had a long day and could use it. I wasn’t going to have any since I’m more a coffee kind of guy, but it smells like you.” He was desperately trying to be a gentleman and not notice that all she was wearing were a tiny pair of panties and an untied robe.

  “Lavender helps me relax, and I like the smell of it.” She glanced down at her open robe, tracking his gaze. Emma quickly belted it closed.

  “Thank you for doing that. If you got any closer with your robe open it would have driven me crazy,” he said, honestly. Unfortunately, the offensive covering didn’t show anything that he hadn’t already imagined, but it still got his blood burning.

  Emma was feeling incredibly warm from his comment. Pretending it didn’t affect her, she moved to sit on the couch beside him. When he handed her the mug of tea, their fingers touched. Emma once again was super aware of his proximity to her body.

  He was having a really hard time with her scent. It appealed to him on some level he couldn’t explain. Already, his body was growing even harder at the prospects of a half-naked woman beside him.

  No, it was all about this particularly naked woman. Any other wouldn’t do. In hindsight, none of the others ever came close.

  Emma leaned back into the couch and tucked her legs underneath her, sipping her tea. She took in the sheer size of the man on her couch. More warmth began to spread as her gaze slid from his large hands, up his strong arms and to the breadth of his shoulders. Being beside him gave her a feeling of safety, and Emma was glad he was there, despite the oncoming discussion.

  “Feeling better?” he inquired, watching her over the rim of his own mug.

  Before replying, she watched his eyes and how the light from the lamp made the silver gray flash like precious metal. Tonight, telling him about her past would change everything. All the intimate details would most likely change the way he looked at her. The man was going to know the truth.

  “
Yes,” she answered, lying. Nothing made her feel better about what was coming. “Thank you for the tea.”

  “My pleasure, but now, we need to talk about how you took off tonight. You knew we had to talk, honey, and we can’t play this game anymore. I don’t plan on chasing you all over Celestia,” he stated, knowing he’d chase her into hell and back. Who was he kidding?

  “Greyson,” she paused, unsure what to tell him. Maybe she’d try the truth for a while. “I wasn’t running from you. I knew you’d come here tonight. I’m too tired to run anymore.”

  It caught him off guard. “After what I saw in your office today, you honestly believed I’d follow you home?” He watched her for any reaction, when there wasn’t, he continued, “As far as I know, you’re in a relationship already,” he stated, hoping with everything in him that he was wrong. “I assumed when you let me kiss you, that there was no one else.”

  “There isn’t anyone else.”

  He wasn’t sure he bought it. There was no way to explain what he saw in her office. It was more than a friendly relationship between her and the deputy.

  “I knew you’d be here because you won’t quit until you get the answers. So it is just easier to give you the details and let you make your decisions with all the facts. For the record, you’re wrong about your assessment of my relationship with Reese,” she stated. Emma wanted him to see that she wasn’t involved with any of her men.

  “Okay, so tell me what I’m missing.”

  Emma turned toward him, so he would see her face and the pain she was about to relive. “I guess I should start with my days in Philadelphia,” she sighed, closing her eyes to block out what lived inside her, wishing she could keep it from escaping.

  Greyson watched her carefully.

  When she reopened them, she was strong enough to continue her story. “You asked why I left my job as a detective, and here it is,” she took a breath. “I had to leave because every time I stared down at my hands, I saw blood. There was blood from the victims, blood from the bodies found in the streets, and blood from my brother,” she whispered, willing herself to get through it without crying or retching.

  He saw how painful this was for her, and his heart ached in his chest.

  Emma focused on the FBI lettering on his blue t-shirt and nothing more. “I was burning out from being in homicide. It started with the nightmares every damn night. I know it’s common when you walk through blood every day, but it began to eat away at me. I tried to get past it and forget it, but it wouldn’t stop.”

  Croft understood the nightmares. He’d had quite a few in his life and still did.

  “I wouldn’t start drinking to numb them. My parents were killed in a car accident when a drunk driver crossed the yellow lines and crushed them to death. It seemed disrespectful to their memory, that their child got shit faced to forget.”

  “Emma,” he started, wishing there was something to say to ease it.

  “It’s going to get worse than that, Greyson. If you want me to stop I will, but you wanted the truth and it’s not pretty,” she waited until he answered her.

  It wasn’t only curiosity. It was so much more now. “I want to know, please continue.”

  She nodded, sipping her tea and praying the scent would relax her enough to get through it. “I was left in the world with no one but my brother, Gage.”

  Croft wasn’t aware she had a brother, but he was glad she had someone to get her through it.

  “Gage was a damn good cop. I think he’s the reason I became one too. The stories he’d tell me and adventures that he’d had every day, drew me in.”

  Somehow, he doubted that was why she became a cop. He suspected that the woman was born to be one too. She was good at her job, and didn’t miss anything.

  “My brother never wanted to be a homicide detective. He loved being in vice. We were the joke of the squad house. His baby sister kicked his ass and beat him to the homicide shield,” she laughed, sardonically. “I wish to this day he left vice. It’s what killed him.”

  He tensed at her words and the implication of it. Not only had she lost her parents, but her brother too.

  Damn it!

  “My big brother rocked at his job. They called him the king of snitches. He had more men on the street bringing him info for cash than the department could reimburse. He got along with everyone, and no one hated him. How could they? He smiled this big dopy grin and made you feel safe.” Emma hadn’t felt that kind of safety in a long time until she met Greyson Croft. Now, she might lose it when he discovered the truth.

  “You don’t have to do this. I get the picture.” Making her relive this was too painful. He could simply read the file.

  Emma ignored his words and pressed on. “One of the snitches high on street drugs and crack cocaine followed him home one night.” She took a sip of tea to steady herself, and stared back into his eyes. “He got to his apartment and was opening his door, when his snitch came up behind him and knocked him out. From there on out, it gets sketchy. There’s speculation on what went down next, but until the next witness showed up, no one knows if my brother tried to bargain for his life or how long he was out.”

  Greyson moved closer to her and took her hand in his. It was ice cold, despite the heat of the mug.

  “I know my brother, and he probably tried to give the man anything he wanted at that point because I was on my way over for dinner. I was the witness that was coming to watch him die.”

  Greyson literally froze at her words. “Oh, Emma,” he whispered, knowing how horrible it all had to be for her. He couldn’t imagine having to watch his only brother in the last moments of his life.

  “The snitch had my brother’s ATM Card, wallet, watch and other possessions on his person. He planned to rob him until it went from bad to worse. In a fit of some drug induced haze, he took a kitchen knife and slit my brother’s throat.” She took another sip and let the silence sit. “He did a piss poor job of it because Gage laid there bleeding to death, unable to stop the blood or call for help. He only nicked his jugular.”

  “Jesus,” he muttered, wiping a tear from her cheek.

  “I arrived within the last few minutes of my brother’s life. I had a key to his place, and as I opened the door I was unaware that there was a B&E in progress. The snitch was sitting in the kitchen waiting for me. He heard the key in the lock and hid. I came in and walked down the hallway to find my brother gurgling and laying in his own blood. He was trying to warn me. The snitch came up behind me and used my brother’s weapon to hold me at gunpoint. All I could do was look down into Gage’s eyes and see the end of both of our lives.” She stopped to close her eyes as the pain threatened to pull her under.

  “I get it, Emma,” Croft whispered softly.

  “I need to finish this. You and one other person know the whole story. It has to be told because you need to see what’s inside me, Greyson,” she continued, “I turned to bargain for my brother’s life. There was still time to save him. I offered the snitch my wallet. There was no way to get to my gun. When I went to hand him my purse, I decided to try to save us both. I swung the purse and knocked the gun out of his hands. I charged at him, trying to get the knife away from him.”

  The agent was glad she fought.

  “He hit me so hard I saw stars. I had no idea he was flying high on crack. I almost lost consciousness, and as I was lying in my own brother’s blood, so much went through my mind. I didn’t want to die, but I didn’t want to live either--not alone. I didn’t want to be by myself the rest of my life. I’d lost everyone.”

  “Honey.” He kissed away a tear and squeezed her hand.

  “He wasn’t done because the bastard thought that trying to rape me would be the best way to end his little fun fest.”

  He tensed at her words, thinking back to the crime scene that day, when she went stiff at the words ‘sexual assault’. No wonder she was falling apart on the inside.

  Emma closed her eyes and more tears fell. When the couch
moved, she could feel herself being pulled onto his lap, and protectively housed in his arms.

  “Did he rape you, Emma?” The words barely made it from his lips as they threatened to choke him.

  “As I was lying there, and he was tearing into my clothes, I stared over into my dying brother’s eyes. Life was leaching from him, Greyson, and he stared at me half dead. He struggled to slide towards me. Even dying, he was trying to save me with what was left in him. When he knew he couldn’t reach me, he whispered one last word and it’s the only one I’ll ever remember from him.”

  Croft wished he could kill the man who had hurt her. He wanted to storm around her house in such a rage. “What did he say?”

  “Fight. He told me to fight, and when the junkie tried to pull my legs apart, he had to put down the knife. When he did, I fought for me and for Gage. I knew it was too late for my brother, but for him I’d die trying to save me. It was his last wish, so to speak.”

  He kissed her neck and let her lean into him.

  “I killed him, Greyson. The cop went away, and I became a killer.” Her voice broke at the admission.

  “I’m glad because I would have done it myself right now if he was still alive,” he admitted.

  Emma confessed the truth. “I had to live so I could kill the bastard who took the last piece of me away. He stole the only person I had left in the world, and I wanted him to hurt for it. I grabbed the knife and shoved it deep into his neck. It stunned him enough to get him off me, and when he fell back, I crawled through all the blood, sliding all over the place trying to get to Gage’s gun.”

  Now he understood the blood on her hands all the time. After crawling through it, could he blame her?

  “The snitch wasn’t done yet. He got up and came after me with the knife. Before I could shoot him, he stabbed me in the shoulder. I was so numb and intent on killing him that I barely felt it. I did feel myself pulling the trigger over and over again. I emptied the entire clip in him. To this day, I feel no remorse with stealing his life from him like he stole my brother’s from me. I may not feel guilty, but I still live with it on my soul. Every day, I carry it with me.”