Paid Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 3)

by Morgan Kelley

  Nothing to them.

  Nothing to anyone.

  And that was the beauty of it all.

  They were the forgotten.

  And no one would ever look for them.

  Because they were lost to the night.

  * * * G r e y s o n C r o f t * * *

  Two Weeks

  Later

  She had to find her.

  She’d made a promise to her little sister that she’d never stop looking for her—no matter what.

  When they were separated in the foster care system, she vowed that one day, she’d get her back and they’d have a nice home together.

  They’d be a family, and they’d have each other to love. Nothing else would matter, and that was her focus.

  She had made that promise, and she was going to keep it despite the odds being against her.

  She had to do it.

  What were you if you couldn’t keep your word to family?

  You were nothing.

  Vegas had swallowed her kid sister whole, and it was up to her to dig and find a way to pull her out of the belly of the beast.

  She’d do anything for her.

  ANYTHING.

  Yes, her mother gave them up, tossing them away when her drug habit became far too important. All the while, allowing her disgusting boyfriend to take liberties with both of her daughters to supply her habit.

  That was then.

  This was now.

  She wasn’t that scared girl anymore.

  She was stronger.

  She was a fighter.

  She was going to find her sister, and she was going to bring her home. She only knew the name of the madam she last worked for, but she was getting closer.

  She chased her sister from New York to Vegas. She followed every clue, asked questions, and hid in plain sight. She took jobs, talked to the homeless, questioned hookers, and lived her life on the seedy side.

  She had to do it!

  Someone had to care that she was missing.

  Someone had to try.

  She’d take jobs, squirreling away every penny until she had enough to work on her sister’s case. She’d bribe street criminals, she’d flirt her way through the men who thought she was easy—just to find her, but it wasn’t working. She’d become desperate. She’d even sleep with someone to get that next clue.

  This was her drug.

  This was her obsession.

  And…

  She was losing hope.

  As she tried to figure out a way, she was out of options.

  To her, there was only one left, and she knew she needed to do it. She didn’t want to go to the madam that had sent out her sister, but she would. She’d pretend to be that person if it meant saving her sister.

  What choice did she have?

  None.

  When you loved someone, you fought for them tooth and nail, and she loved her sister. They weren’t close in age, but they were both fighting their pasts.

  She chose not to get lost in it, and her sister…she chose to run to the streets. She thought it would be better. Foster homes sucked.

  The men were creepy.

  The women mean.

  She didn’t want to know what happened to her sister every night when their foster mother went to bed. She already knew. The men of the house always liked the girls.

  Always.

  It had happened to her too.

  To these families, they were disposable, they were nothing, and people tossed them on a whim. They were a paycheck, nothing more than extra money in their pockets—meanwhile the kids were dropped off with all their worldly possessions in a trash bag.

  It was a continual horror story.

  The five foster homes that deemed her unfit, kept tossing her back, ignoring her pleas for help.

  The one family that she really liked…

  They tossed her too.

  For some people, there was no happily ever after. For some kids, they were meant to be nobody, and that sucked, but she’d come to grips with it so long ago.

  She would make up her own world. She’d build her own fantasy out of a shit life that no one deserved.

  All she wanted to do was find her sister, get the hell out of that city, and never go back.

  Vegas was a horrible place.

  She wanted to get away from it as fast as she could. The city sucked you in, and you couldn’t escape. There was no way in hell she’d stick around.

  There was nothing there for her.

  Once she found her sister, they were getting out of there. She wanted a normal life, a happy little chunk of the world to call her own, and she was going to get it.

  There would be a porch swing.

  A cat in the window.

  Sunny curtains she’d made herself.

  Vegas was neon and shit, and she couldn’t wait to escape it.

  As she headed down the street to her last possible solution, she wanted to weep.

  It was never going to end.

  She was never going to find her.

  Hope was gone.

  Vegas and its inhabitants had sucked her soul dry.

  And she wasn’t surprised.

  God help the next man.

  She was all used up.

  * * * G r e y s o n C r o f t * * *

  He used her up.

  She was perfect.

  With her tiny little body, and how she screamed and begged, he couldn’t be happier. She was perfection as he tied her down, used her body, and played with her like a toy.

  She lasted almost two weeks with him, and that was delicious. He’d raped her so many times, and still, she fought.

  It was a testament to her tenacity, and he was impressed. Not many would have tolerated his sick tendencies and fetishes.

  They had to be young.

  The younger the better.

  They had to be pretty.

  He loved to destroy beauty.

  They had to be trained.

  She had to tolerate all kinds of kinky sex.

  She’d met all his criteria, and he was pleased.

  While she wept in the other room, after their voracious sex, he found himself smiling.

  She was feisty.

  She was a fighter.

  Now she was broken.

  While he’d use her one more time, the appeal…it was gone. While he’d been with her, he thought she might last a very long time. She tolerated his biting, the burning, the cutting, and most importantly, the way he fucked her until she cried.

  Then, she gave up.

  That spark died.

  It disappeared.

  Between destroying her body and mind, she’d found that secret place to escape to and hide, and he couldn’t—despite trying—lure her out.

  She was done.

  Pulling out his phone, he made a call. He reached out to them for one more girl.

  “I need someone stronger,” he said. “This one was amazing, but she couldn’t handle me.”

  “What happened?”

  “She’s not the one. Don’t get me wrong, she was delightful, and I enjoyed her, but she’s given up. I need one with an unbreakable spirit. They are the best ones. I want one who is defiant, who will fight me, but I can still take. I need her to be pretty, but tough as nails.”

  “That’s a tough order. The one we found you was a lucky break. I don’t know if we can find another. Maybe you should go older. They tend to…”

  He cut the person on the phone off.

  “NO! If I wanted old, any street slut would do. My fantasy needs something more. I need them to be young. I don’t care about the hair color or anything else, but I want a child.”

  And here was where it got hard.

  “I can’t promise…”

  “I want what I want. I don’t care if you have to find her in a year. Keep sending me samples. I’ll keep paying. You have to have more,” he hissed.

  “You aren’t our only client. I can’t give you every girl. There isn’t an endless supply.�
��

  He didn’t care.

  “If you don’t give me what I want, you’ll be shocked to find the cops asking you questions. While you don’t know me, I know you.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  He laughed.

  Yes, yes, he was.

  “Are you cutting me off? I pay you top dollar for pussy. Now, find me a girl who won’t be crying in a week. I need one who can take pain, who likes being my whore, and who I can mark up.”

  There was a pause.

  “We may have one.”

  “Is she young?” he asked hopefully.

  “Yes.”

  He was pleased. “Then I’ll meet you at the customary spot. I’ll bring cash, and since you didn’t make me wait, I’ll add a little something extra for your trouble.”

  He hung up.

  Pulling on his rubber gloves, he grabbed the bucket of bleach. It was time to clean up after himself, inside and out. He wouldn’t leave a trace.

  She’d be pristine when he gave her back.

  Only, she wouldn’t be alive.

  No.

  He didn’t share his toys, and this one…she was beyond repair. They didn’t make things the way they used to.

  Women…they were so…fragile.

  He needed these distractions as he planned the destruction coming to Vegas. He had plans.

  Only, he needed to calm his mind.

  The next one would be better.

  He had to have hope.

  After all, this was Vegas.

  Here, the city never slept, and neither did the debauchery.

  Thankfully.

  * * * G r e y s o n C r o f t * * *

  Director Robert Lee’s

  Office

  The city was a mess.

  The sex ring his people were working on was going nowhere. They couldn’t seem to find anyone. All of his agents, as they went out, were struggling.

  It was as if Vegas was blocking them.

  The more questions they asked, the more lies they were handed back.

  He was in a tricky predicament.

  Did he call his boss and ask for assistance or did he give it a little more time?

  This had been a mess he’d inherited with the job from Greyson Croft. Since then, it had spiraled out of control.

  He honestly wasn’t sure what was going on.

  Was Croft behind it?

  Was he running this too?

  He wasn’t sure.

  No matter what he did, sending out wave after wave of agents, they couldn’t find anything to tie anyone to the investigation.

  It made him think of the man.

  They couldn’t pin any murders on him either.

  They couldn’t figure out if he was crooked or not. With each attempt to take him down, they were met with his lawyer.

  She was a pain in his ass.

  He had a file on her too, and she loved to make cops suffer. She was a bitch on wheels, and no one could get past her to the Crofts’ gate.

  For now, they were ‘legally’ trying to obtain information by sitting outside their home.

  It wasn’t working.

  It was keeping him up at night.

  Now, they were barely on the legal side of this case. Before long, they’d have to back off.

  He saw it coming.

  Pushing the intercom button, he called down to the front desk.

  “Is the police commissioner here yet?” Robert asked.

  The security hadn’t seen him.

  “Well, when he arrives, send Commissioner Raye up. We have a lot to do.”

  He stared out at the stars in the sky, and he knew one thing.

  They were running out of time.

  Vegas was about to blow up.

  Chapter One

  Terrace Glen

  Saturday

  Ten P.M

  One Week to the Wedding…

  T he house was silent, and that in itself was odd. Dimitri was accustomed to the place being a madhouse. Over the last few days, Emma and Steele were neck deep in planning a wedding. It was fast approaching, and the whole family was getting ready for it. There was going to be one hell of a celebration as they came together to see Doctor Steele Bentley officially become a Croft.

  Honestly, he didn’t get it.

  It was only a wedding.

  What did it matter?

  Most marriages failed, and that was why he was never going to get stuck in that trap. He didn’t ever see himself settling down and getting married.

  Why?

  There was really no need.

  He was perfectly happy as he was. He could come as he wished, he could smoke and not be nagged, and he could kill without conscience.

  The last thing Dimitri needed was a babysitter. He certainly didn’t want a wife.

  They were trouble.

  He watched the man he admired, and he saw the internal struggle he was having.

  He couldn’t have a cigar around Emma.

  She was with child.

  Killing had repercussions.

  Emma would worry about his soul.

  It was all about pleasing a wife, and he didn’t understand it at all. Dimitri didn’t find any lure to it. Greyson could have any woman he wanted, any life he wanted, and still he chose to wear that gilded ring—a symbol of his imprisonment.

  Yes, Greyson got to sleep beside a warm body, having sex whenever he wanted, but Dimitri got plenty of sex.

  He didn’t have to be nagged, and he didn’t have to make attachments. That was what he didn’t get. Why was the man making his life harder, not easier?

  Don’t get him wrong. Dimitri knew that Emma was one hell of a catch. She seemed to come from an era long gone, and she complemented the man nicely.

  She added to his mystique, but she added to his burdens—and as of late, they were growing.

  Having a wife, someone you paired off with, seemed like more trouble than it was worth.

  Why?

  To have a bed buddy?

  For the sex, he got it, but to have someone to sleep beside each night?

  Surely, it was overrated.

  The last thing he wanted was a woman in bed with him once hell broke loose. When Dimitri closed his eyes, he had about three hours before the nightmares began, and then he was over it.

  They were enough to make his bowels run cold, his blood to freeze, and his soul to die.

  He couldn’t face them in his sleep because then, he’d have to face them while he was awake.

  And that would suck.

  Truthfully, Dimitri would rather hide. He’d lived on catnaps and caffeine for years.

  Why stop now?

  All roads led to this point in his life, so what did it matter if he got married or lived alone?

  There was no doubt in his mind that if he found a wife, he’d be just as miserable.

  He wasn’t the only one not sleeping well at Terrace Glen.

  It was fact.

  After all, fate didn’t seem so particular. He and Greyson were from different lives. He’d grown up in a home with a mother and father, and Dimitri hadn’t.

  Still, they both paced the floor at night.

  Greyson had killed for his country, taking lives when he was told to pull the trigger. Dimitri had stripped away humanity to the barest sense of it before ending someone, and he’d done it for money, being a mercenary.

  Again, they both carried the same weight.

  So why did he believe he’d be happy married? It wasn’t that Greyson wasn’t happy, he was simply carrying the same burdens, plus one more.

  He had to worry about Emma.

  The man had so much more to lose. Other than Dimitri’s sisters, he couldn’t be hurt. His heart was empty, and that was the best for a man in his position.

  He had to protect the people he loved, but from the outside, he appeared to have no baggage.

  He didn’t have ties.

  Well, other than the boy he was about to adopt.

  The burdens w
ere the same, but he could come and go how he wished, smoke like a chimney, and he didn’t have some woman’s disapproving glare.

  That worked for him.

  Besides, they were too busy. They were in this Vegas together, and as of late, there was a lot of talking going on.

  Something was coming.

  Once more, Fate was laughing at them. Being from two different worlds, you’d think his friend would have an easier life.

  While Greyson had the best start a person could get, being nurtured and raised in love, he’d been beaten, abused, and neglected.

  They were still standing side by side in the shit mess. Did Dimitri really think it was good to drag another person into that?

  No.

  It wasn’t.

  Greyson had made his choices, and now, he was going to make his too.

  He knew his life was going to be short, and he’d accepted that years ago. He’d raised his sisters, and now, they were happy. He was going to raise Sam, and he was likely done.

  He was holding on for as long as he could, as the darkness threatened to swallow him whole.

  So, he was going to smoke, buy his women, and call it a day. The lack of attachment made it easier. Women were wonderful, but they were…difficult.

  He knew.

  He raised two, and now, he was going to do it all over again with a son.

  What had he been thinking?

  Oh yeah.

  He wasn’t.

  The Crofts did him in.

  How?

  Dimitri had fallen in love. He’d fallen for a family that he had no business caring about.

  He’d fallen for a woman who was married to a man he respected. He loved her because she loved him.

  Oh, he didn’t want to have sex with Emma. He simply wanted to be a part of her heart, and he was.

  That was plenty for him.

  It was all he deserved.

  Dimitri was paying his penance one day at a time. He was paying for his sins, and until he did, he couldn’t have anything to call his own.

  Yes, he had money.

  Wealth.

  Assets.

  He just couldn’t put down roots. This arrangement with the Crofts was the first time in…ever, that he’d actually wanted to stay in one place. They’d come, go in to do the job, and leave.