Paid Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 3)

by Morgan Kelley

  “Marissa?” he asked, completely confused.

  She sucker punched him in the face, and he fell back.

  “What did you do to my sister?” she asked, before she attacked him, trying to claw out his eyes.

  Dimitri avoided one hand, but she scratched the hell out of his neck.

  “I’m going to fucking kill you, you sick fuck!” she raged, as she kept trying to make him bleed.

  Dimitri was confused, so he did the only thing he could.

  Dimitri brought up his elbow and knocked her out.

  As she fell back onto the bed, he was only thinking one thing.

  What the bloody hell was this?

  * * * G r e y s o n C r o f t * * *

  Across Town

  He was bored.

  When he picked Vegas, he thought it would keep him entertained.

  Oh, and it had.

  Vegas was an unusual place, and he’d seen a lot of places in his life. He may not be old, but he was wise to the world.

  He’d traveled.

  He killed.

  He’d done everything his government had asked him to do. He’d lived up to his father’s memory.

  Now he was here.

  He was intrigued by the city that never slept, and the flashing lights. He was enthralled by the women he could buy, and he would be pleased when he found his ultimate prize.

  Yes, it was about the sex and the slutty little treasures he found along the way, but it was about more.

  He needed to find his brother. Then, when he did, he’d enact his revenge.

  For his father.

  For his blood.

  All these years, it had been almost impossible to find him. Then, he saw him.

  Ironically, he was on the news, and there was no doubt that he was the one.

  There was that flash of a news story, as he rested in his hotel room in New York. He saw him, it was only a few seconds, but he recognized him.

  He looked like their father.

  They had the same eyes.

  They shared the same cheekbones.

  Dimitri Gideon was his brother, and they had a date to finish up some things.

  How did he know this was destined from the day he was born?

  Rumor travelled, and finally, it had gotten back to them.

  Well, to his mother.

  She told him everything when he asked about his father. There was only one picture of him in their home, and he cherished it. Constantine had been holding him the day he was born.

  His mother said he was so proud to have a good son.

  And he wanted to live up to that.

  Oh, and he would.

  Yes, he’d heard the stories about his great father, the KGB man who served his country well, and he’d heard the lies to smear his character.

  He didn’t buy into them, and he never would. Yes, he may have had an icy cold heart, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t love him and his mother.

  Yes, he’d used pain to get his way, and he couldn’t blame him. Weak people needed to be dominated.

  Look at his slutty treasures.

  He still loved the man.

  As he grew up, alone, with only a mother, he never understood why.

  She was KGB, too, and she was lovely.

  When he was a teenager, he found the picture. He found the face that launched a million questions, and he’d learned about the man who made him.

  He loved his mother.

  They had a passionate affair.

  Then, one day, he was killed in his own home. It took years to find out who did it. It took bribes, listening to a ton of bull, but he found the truth.

  He was killed by his son.

  His brother.

  That was a travesty.

  As he went to work for the government, killing for them, he grew to hate the man who took his father’s life—his mother’s one true love.

  He festered in the anger.

  He vowed to find him.

  Then, when his mother died, he sought revenge. If not for him, for her. She struggled her whole life without the man she loved. She said he was callous to the world.

  Hard.

  Difficult.

  But to her, he was sweet, and she missed him.

  So, he was going to find his killer.

  He was going to make sure he paid.

  After all, he obviously didn’t realize that you didn’t betray your own blood. It was thicker than water. It was all you ever had in life.

  When you betrayed it, you had to pay.

  So that was the real reason he was in Vegas, but he’d still have fun.

  He’d still terrorize a few people.

  Starting with his brother.

  They may have shared the same aqua eyes, the same nose, and skills, but in the end, Viktor knew one thing.

  Maximillian couldn’t hide.

  Anfisa wasn’t safe.

  Anzehlina was just as guilty.

  And in the end, they would pay. They violated something so sacred. They betrayed their country, working for the Americans.

  They betrayed their heritage.

  They betrayed family.

  And that meant one thing.

  Death.

  Chapter Two

  W hen he got the call, they’d been finishing up sex. Emma had been cuddled against him, and it was peaceful at Terrace Glen. Only, it didn’t last for very long. The ringer on his phone went off, scaring the shit out of him and Emma.

  It was Dimitri.

  Why Croft got that sick feeling, he wasn’t sure, but he knew it wasn’t going to be good.

  “Dimitri, are you okay?”

  “No. I need you to come. I have a problem.”

  Greyson could only imagine what that would be. A man hires a hooker, after leaving his home angry.

  Yeah, he was expecting a bloodbath.

  Jesus.

  “I’m on my way.”

  “What happened to Dimitri?” she asked curiously.

  “Nothing, honey. I have to run out.”

  She got out of bed.

  “Uh, you’re not coming with me, Emma. You’re safer here,” he said, pulling on his pants.

  “Bullshit. I’m not letting you go out at eleven at night when we have people trying to frame us. I’m riding shotgun, Greyson.”

  She had a point.

  “Dimitri is at the hotel, and he needs me.”

  She lifted a brow.

  That couldn’t be good.

  As she dressed, Emma pulled a gun from her dresser and tucked it into the back of her pants. She knew what was coming was likely going to be bad.

  “I don’t think you need…”

  Who was he kidding?

  He grabbed one of his guns too.

  “What happened exactly?” she asked.

  “We were talking about some issues, and he and I had a disagreement. He left. All I know is he needs help.”

  She knew what he was thinking, and it made her sick. Emma prayed that he didn’t do something stupid.

  “Do you think he killed a woman?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Emma didn’t like this.

  Mostly, because it was eating away at Dimitri. He couldn’t see it, but she could. This had to stop. There had to be a way for him to get off this runaway train before it derailed and killed him.

  “I’ll grab some things.”

  “Like what?” he asked. “A shower curtain to wrap up the body?” he inquired, staring at her.

  “Well, excuse me for wanting to plan ahead. Cops notice things missing from hotel rooms.”

  “Emma, it’s our hotel. I think we can doctor the scene later,” he offered, grabbing his keys. “We have to hurry.”

  Emma followed him out.

  As she did, Greyson called Chris.

  “We are heading out. We need someone up to patrol. Can you and Natasha handle it?” he asked.

  He heard the answer, and he was willing to handle it.

  Normally, he woul
dn’t stress it, but he didn’t trust Sam not to steal another car or try to run away again. Before, he’d been trying to keep people out.

  Now he was trying to keep people in.

  Oh, the irony…

  Life was funny.

  Their lives were chaos.

  As they hit the garage, he grabbed his car. He didn’t get to drive it much. The media knew it was his, but it was fast.

  “Buckle up,” he said, as his wife began doing just that.

  He headed out, opening the gate and gunning it through the opening. It luckily caught most of the reporters off guard, and he was able to get far enough away that he knew he could lose them once they hit the strip.

  “What are we going to do?” Emma asked. “If he killed someone…”

  He didn’t hesitate.

  “We will clean up the mess.”

  She knew what he was planning. “There’s a bag in the trunk.”

  He was aware.

  He’d placed it there.

  There were medical supplies, a first aid kit, and plastic garbage bags.

  Yeah, their life had drastically changed. More money did equal more problems, and here was the proof.

  “I wish you would have stayed home,” he admitted, once they were close to town.

  She glanced over at him.

  “Are you kidding me? And miss out on the fun?” she teased. “I love hiding a body in the desert at midnight after making love to my husband. Who has Saturday nights like this?”

  Yeah, God forbid they actually do something normal like sex and sleep. That would be too damn easy.

  “I’m going to kick his ass.”

  “No, you’re not. He’s hurting, Grey. That’s not how you fix this. You don’t get angry. Dimitri doesn’t know it, but he’s just like Sam. He’s lost. We find him, we heal him, and we take care of him.”

  He sighed.

  “I’ll handle it,” she stated. “This needs a woman’s touch. He will listen to me.”

  Greyson hoped so.

  He was getting cranky too. He’d just told Dimitri no body because that would cause issues, and here he was on his way to the strip to likely clean up after a mess.

  This was bad.

  Very.

  Very.

  Bad.

  He held the towel to his arm. He wasn’t gushing blood anymore, and that was probably a good thing. He’d had the fortitude to restrain Marissa’s arms before she could wake up.

  Now she was pissed off.

  She was glaring at him from the bed and cursing his name. Well, he had news for her. She was going to have to try harder if she wanted to insult him.

  He’d been called all those names before.

  “When I get free, I’m going to kill you,” she hissed from the bed.

  Oh, she only wished.

  Marissa had gotten lucky. He’d been distracted. From here on out, he wasn’t going to let that happen.

  Ever.

  Again.

  “I hate you,” she hissed.

  “Yeah, I’m not all that happy with you right now either,” he said. “You freaking could have killed me.”

  “I wanted to kill you, you asshole!”

  He didn’t get it.

  He’d never been unkind to her.

  Why was she trying to end his life? Then again, maybe he should have let her.

  “What is your problem, Marissa? You came in here with a knife. You’re damn lucky I didn’t shoot you!”

  “You slept with my sister! What did you do with her?” she raged. “Where did you dump her body, you asshole!”

  He was confused. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, Marissa. All I know is I hired a hooker…”

  He pointed at her.

  “I’m not a hooker!”

  Well, she could have fooled him, especially since he’d called a madam and ordered one up.

  “Listen, you can stop blaming me for whatever it is you’ve come up with in your head. You’re the one who is dressed like a prostitute. Imagine my surprise when a woman I used to employ wasn’t trying to suck my dick but shank my throat!”

  She got off the bed, and he shoved her back down with his good arm.

  “I’m going to kill you!”

  “Clearly, but I don’t know why. I hired you when you needed a job, I took care of you when you were hurt, and then you disappeared without a word. What the hell is going on?” he asked.

  She got up again and kicked him in the leg with the tip of her pointy heel. She got him right on the shin, and it hurt maybe more than the knife.

  He began cursing in Russian.

  Marissa went at him again, and he shoved her back down. “If you come at me again…”

  “You’ll what? Kill me?”

  “I’m contemplating it. Trust me, you’re close to pushing me past my control.”

  There was a knock on the door, and then Greyson’s voice. Dimitri didn’t have to answer. He knew the man had a master key card, since he owned the place.

  When Greyson came in, he was relieved.

  Until he saw Emma.

  Jesus.

  Great.

  This had just gone from bad, to embarrassing, and then right to disastrous. Here he was, in a hotel room, with a hooker he hired—who was once an employee and who stabbed him—with a woman he didn’t want to see him behave like this.

  This was why he saw hookers at a hotel and not the house. It wasn’t right to flaunt this in front of her.

  Perfect.

  Emma saw him and immediately, she rushed toward him. “Dimitri, are you okay?” she asked, concern in her voice.

  “I’m good, Emma.” He tried to move away from her so she wouldn’t have to deal with this mess.

  Or to touch him.

  He didn’t think he deserved it.

  “Let me see your arm,” she said, dropping the bag she’d been carrying.

  He stood there.

  Emma touched his arm. “Dimitri, please let me see your arm.”

  He sat, seeing that she was NOT going to give up.

  “What’s going on?” Greyson asked, relieved that the woman was still alive. This made his night a million times easier.

  “He killed my sister!” Marissa hissed.

  Greyson stared at her. “Wait! Didn’t you work for him?” he asked, finally recognizing her. “You were the hostess!”

  “Yes, I was, and I’m trying to find my sister. I have information that says he saw her.”

  Emma pulled the towel away. She needed to get to his arm. “I need to take your shirt off,” she said.

  He moved out of her reach.

  “Dimitri.”

  Greyson had to grab Marissa before she attacked again, this time with her high heel in her hand behind her back. If this hadn’t been serious, he would have laughed at how awkward this was.

  Only their life.

  “Sit,” he ordered.

  She tried to get up again, and despite being restrained, she was going to try to hurt him again.

  Greyson had to step in.

  “Emma, take him into the bathroom. I’ll handle this, and you deal with his arm.”

  She took him by the hand and led him into the bathroom. Once he sat down, he wouldn’t look at her.

  “What did I do to make you upset with me?” she asked, when he was giving her the cold shoulder. There was a chill in the room, and she figured it had to be her.

  “Nothing.”

  “Then look at me.”

  He did.

  That’s when she saw it.

  He was mortified.

  This was the same look that Dimitri gave her when she hugged him or gave him a kiss. It was one of embarrassment.

  Well, at least she didn’t upset him.

  “What happened?” she asked, reaching for his shirt. Again, he pushed her hands away.

  “I came here to get laid. She tried to stab me. That’s all you need to know.”

  Emma tried to be calm. She’d learned a lot about this man ov
er the last year, and she knew he was struggling.

  “Newsflash, she did stab you. Now let me see your damn arm. You’re bleeding all over the floor!”

  He looked down.

  The second he did, she grabbed the shirt and yanked it off his body.

  He stood and stared at her, putting his back as far from her as he could. “Don’t touch me!”

  She didn’t understand.

  Then, she could see his back in the mirror, and it horrified her. She knew he had scars, but in the light of the bathroom, they were a million times worse.

  He was a mess.

  There were vicious angry scars crisscrossing his whole back.

  “Dimitri, who hurt you?” she asked, tears in her eyes.

  “Don’t, Emma! Not now, not here, and not with me,” he said, his voice cool and low.

  She didn’t budge.

  “Yeah, why should I care that someone I love is hurt?” she asked, a tear slipping free.

  Shit!

  She was crying.

  He sat in frustration.

  Instead of addressing what was going on, again, she tried something different. She hugged him.

  It worked because it caught him off guard and allowed her to get closer to him.

  “It’ll wait. For now, I’m here now. I’ll fix your arm and get you a new shirt. Okay?”

  He didn’t know what to say.

  “Okay.”

  She grabbed the first aid kit and checked his shoulder. “When we get home, Steele is going to have to stitch this up. It’s a big cut.”

  “I’ll handle it when I get back to my room. It won’t be the first time, or the last. I can handle it.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She got to work with cleaning out the wound, and bandaging his arm. Her fingers moved gently across his shoulder, patching him back up.

  When she had it covered, she spoke again, “I’ll get you something to wear. Stay here.”

  He took her hand and stopped her.

  “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m not angry at you, Emma. I shouldn’t have been an asshole to you.”

  She got it, but she wanted to know the truth, and from him. It had to be from him.

  “Then who are you mad at, Dimitri?”