Mob Justice

by Morgan Kelley

  Oh, he would.

  They headed out.

  “What about you, Mrs. C?” Heath asked. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m taking Chris, and we’re going to take the other interview that Greyson had. He talked to Johnie Baker, and now it’s my turn.”

  “So, breakfast to go?” Greyson asked, putting down his spatula.

  She laughed.

  “You have been standing there twenty minutes, and you haven’t even cracked an egg. Who are you kidding, Mr. Croft?”

  He grinned.

  “Have a donut with Heath,” Emma stated.

  Oh, he would.

  Greyson gave her a kiss and then headed off to get dressed before she could recall her baked good offer.

  He wasn’t an idiot.

  When he was gone, Emma focused on the bodyguard beside her.

  “Heath, you keep him safe. I don’t trust the commissioner. We saw Tristan Bauer calling someone after the interview. I know he’s got eyes all over us.”

  “We can just kill him,” he suggested.

  Emma didn’t laugh.

  “Keep that in mind. He’s wearing thin on my patience, and this family is mine. I will protect it.”

  He didn’t doubt it.

  That’s what he liked about the crofts.

  They took care of their own.

  Like the Marines.

  Emma waited as long as she could to head out. Chris still hadn’t come out of his bedroom, so she figured she’d track him down. When she knocked, he didn’t answer, so she peeked her head in.

  He was sitting on the side of his bed, and he looked miserable.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, inviting herself into the room. Her best friend needed her.

  Clearly.

  “No.”

  “What happened?” she asked, sitting beside him.

  “How the hell does my shrew ex-wife keep finding husband after husband, and boy toy after boy toy, and I can’t find anyone?”

  “Because she sleeps her way to the altar.”

  “I have to try that,” he muttered. “Apparently, it works in Vegas.”

  “Chris, you know that’s not the way.”

  He was aware.

  Still…

  “I feel like the world is watching me fail. I feel like I’m a disaster.”

  “Well, I have good news and bad news.”

  “Oh, Jesus. What?”

  “They are watching you. That’s the bad news.”

  He sighed.

  “And the good?”

  She searched on her phone and showed him what was on the tabloid stations that morning. The celebrity bloggers were having a field day.

  He read it.

  “I’m your sexy boy toy bodyguard?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  He grinned.

  “Well, that’s kinda nice,” he said, cheering up marginally over it. There was a picture of him in the sex shop with Emma, and it was POST mauling.

  He looked fucked, and not in a bad way.

  “She’s going to eat her heart out over that. Look at that picture of you standing in that sex shop. They got the essence of that plan. You were getting head from your rich hussy boss.”

  He actually giggled.

  “I was, wasn’t I?”

  “And when women see that another woman has something, they want it too. You’re going to be the object of all that attention. A playboy, if you will. You are rich, Mr. Ford. You are a partner in one of the most lucrative and illegal firms in the city.”

  He smiled even more.

  “Illegal makes me seem dangerous.”

  “Oh, yeah, and totally hot too,” Emma added, trying to cheer him up.

  He dropped his arm over her shoulders and they fell back onto his bed.

  Emma held up her phone.

  “Look at that adoration from your boss. She’s watching you like you’re some sexy piece of man meat.”

  He grinned even more.

  “Yeah, she is.”

  “Yep. You’re hot, Mr. Ford. I can’t keep my hands off of you. Want to have cheap sex?”

  He laughed.

  “Hell, yeah! Maybe in the library? That should get some attention.”

  She snorted.

  “Perv.”

  It made him laugh.

  “You’re really my best friend in the whole world. I’d be lost without you, Em.”

  She rolled to her side.

  “I’ll be your ride or die bitch any day, Mr. Ford. You’ll have me for your entire life.”

  Suddenly, he wasn’t feeling nearly as shitty as he had been a few minutes ago. Emma had that effect on him.

  “One day, I’ll date again,” he said.

  “I know. When you’re ready, I’ll be cheering you on. She’s out there, Christopher. I know she is.”

  He held her.

  “And if she’s not?”

  “That’s okay. You have me,” Emma stated.

  Yeah, he did.

  “I love you.”

  She let him hold her.

  “I love you too. Want to go kick around some scared suspects?”

  Oh, that fit his mood perfectly.

  “You know I do.”

  She was aware.

  So did she.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Commissioner’s Office

  As Poppy sat there, she didn’t doubt that the commissioner was making her wait to rile her up and make her sweat.

  That was totally his style.

  Well, she had news for him. Poppy wasn’t going to be afraid of this douchebag. She was going to stand up for herself and be a cop.

  That’s who she was to her core.

  So, as she sat there, she was calm on the outside. If he thought she’d panic and do something crazy, he was insane. She knew there were cameras there, and she didn’t trust him not to pull a Thomas Christ part two.

  Was she scared?

  Oh God, yes.

  She didn’t want to go in there and get shot in the head, but she couldn’t bring Dimitri. Poppy couldn’t bring backup, so she was on her own.

  Poppy was seconds from a freakout.

  When someone sat beside her, she looked over and held her breath.

  Immediately, she recognized him.

  She’d gone head to head against him a few times at the courthouse.

  It was Delilah’s partner.

  He held out his hand.

  “Miss Wayne, I’m your attorney. Emma Croft sent me to represent you if this turns into a legal matter. If it’s not, I’ll stay by your side. This man is a snake. The Crofts, and Mr. Gideon, don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  She wanted to weep.

  “Thank you, Mr. Braydon.”

  “Finn is fine. I have your back. The Crofts have requested that I handle anything he throws at you. Basically, I’m here to make sure your best interests are the focus.”

  “I was so afraid to go in there after Thomas Christ was killed.”

  He was aware.

  “I don’t blame you. If this is work-related, don’t answer anything. I will talk for you. The key to rattling this scumbag’s cage is you let me do the heavy lifting. Delilah and I make him nervous. You can tell he has something to hide. Let me scare him shitless.”

  She nodded.

  “I got it.”

  The door opened, and the commissioner came out. The second he saw Finn, he scowled.

  “He’s wearing his gun,” Poppy whispered. “He never wears it.”

  That said it all.

  She was going to kiss Emma the second she saw her. The commissioner was gunning for her—literally. There was no doubt in her mind that she was going to be a victim to Thomas Christ’s fate had she entered that room alone.

  “He can stay out here,” Commissioner Raye stated. “We’re having a performance evaluation.”

  “My evaluation isn’t due until June,” she stated warily.

  Finn placed his hand on her lower back.<
br />
  “Well, she has representation. We all know what happens behind closed doors. Look at Thomas Christ,” he stated.

  The commissioner glared at them.

  “Shall we?” Finn suggested.

  They followed him in.

  Who knew what they were in for?

  All Finn knew was they WERE walking out of there alive.

  Period.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Abby McCoy’s

  Home

  They knocked on her door and waited for the woman to answer. They knew she was home. They could hear her and her children inside.

  When she opened up, there were two kids getting ready for school.

  “We’re sorry to bother you,” Greyson stated. “But we need to talk about the case.”

  She smiled.

  “Boys, have a good day,” she said, giving them both a kiss on the forehead. They headed off for the bus stop, and she motioned them to follow her in.

  “I’m surprised to see you,” she said. “Is this about my sister? Did you find her?” she asked hopefully.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Would you like some coffee?” she asked. “I made some earlier.”

  “No, thank you, Abby. We have a problem, and we needed to discuss it with you.”

  She sat.

  It was probably for the best.

  “What?”

  “When were you going to tell us that your ex-husband had a sexual relationship with your sister.”

  Sometimes, it was best to rip off the bandage.

  “WHAT?” she asked.

  “We were told by multiple sources that she had sex with Michael.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. Then her lower lip began quivering.

  “I don’t know what to say,” she whispered.

  He didn’t know either.

  Did she kill her?

  Did she not?

  It was up in the air, and they knew it. There were liars so good that they could fake their way through it. They were sociopaths.

  Was Abby a killer?

  “I need you to look me in the face and tell me if you were involved in her disappearance. I need to know. If you lie about anything, I’m never going to find out who killed your sister.

  “I wouldn't have killed Libby. If she slept with Michael, it was to get proof that he was a scumbag. She told me she didn’t trust him.”

  “They worked together?”

  “Yes, and he was always stealing her ideas and stealing her clients. My sister would not willingly sleep with him. I know her. I have faith in my sister. Dig into his life. She disappeared, and he ran from our marriage right after.”

  She had a point.

  He did.

  Was it guilt?

  “We have people heading to his house right now. They will ask him the same question.”

  “Good!”

  “Can I see your phone?” he asked.

  “For?”

  “I want to look at your call history, and I want to look at your text messages. You didn’t know we were coming. You wouldn’t have deleted anything implicating yourself.”

  She slid it toward him.

  Greyson had been a Fed, and he considered himself thorough. He began scrolling through.

  There was one text.

  “Who is this one to?” he asked.

  It was dated the same day they’d interviewed her.

  “My mother.”

  He read it out loud.

  ‘Mom, I just met with someone who is going to help find Libby. I believe he can do it. It won’t be long. We’re going to get her back. When we do, I’ll call you. I know she’s coming home, Mom. I know it.’

  “She never replied.”

  Abby wiped her eyes.

  “She’s in a nursing home. It was more for me. I swear to you, Mr. Croft. I didn’t kill my sister. I would have killed my scumbag ex had I known, and I may still kill him if he touched and hurt Libby. Blood is thicker than water, and my sister will always be my sister. Men will come and go.”

  He placed her phone by his, and it cloned hers. What she didn’t know was that he was stealing her GPS location. It was one of Dimitri’s toys, and it would help them.

  They’d know the truth.

  “After she went missing, he just left?”

  “Yes. He said he didn’t want to be married to me, I was boring, a dolt, and he was done.”

  “He’s an asshole,” Heath said, unable to help himself. He knew he shouldn’t say anything when the boss was working, but he hated seeing women hurt.

  She agreed.

  “I’ve been so happy,” she said, starting to cry. “I called an orthodontist for Harry. I made his appointment, and I sent my ex a text message.”

  He saw it.

  “I told him I didn’t need his help paying for the braces. I was ready to do this on my own.”

  She wept.

  Well, now Greyson felt bad.

  Crap!

  “We had to ask, Abby. We had to come to you and ask. It will help us find her.”

  She pulled an old phone out of her pocket.

  “I upgraded after Libby went missing. After talking to you, I really missed her. So, when I came home, I dug around and found this. I was going to bring it on Monday when I went to my new job—do I still have it?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  She looked relieved.

  “Here.”

  She handed him her old flip phone.

  “It has messages from my sister. Maybe it will help. Can you get it back to me when you’re done with it? It’s all I have of her. If you don’t find her, I want to be able to read and hear them.”

  He got it.

  Greyson would be the same if he’d lost any of his brothers. They all mattered.

  “Yeah, I can.”

  She wiped her eyes.

  “Please find my sister, Mr. Croft. If he hurt her, I want to make him pay.”

  “If he did, we’ll handle him, Ms. McCoy. You have two boys. They need you. Leave this to us.”

  She had no choice. Her boys came first.

  “Thank you.”

  Outside, Greyson flipped through the messages on the phone, and they were typical sister texts. They talked about clothes, the boys, and life. In none of them did it mention Michael Skinner.

  “Where to, Mr. C?” Heath asked.

  “Michael Skinner’s home. Oh, and when we get there, I want you to really scare him.”

  “Can I kill him?”

  He laughed.

  Oh, Greyson only wished it was that easy. There was a fine line, and they had to walk it.

  “No, but you can rough him up.”

  “I love my job,” he admitted. “I really do.”

  Greyson patted his arm.

  “I am so glad.”

  They headed out.

  They had an asshole to interview.

  And it should be interesting.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Lewis Garrett’s

  Home

  It was a nice family house, and that pissed Dimitri off more than anything. He knew about Poppy’s time in foster hell, and this man, if her father, was an asshole for letting that happen.

  Period.

  If he sired a child, it was his responsibility. If he ran…well, that made him the scum of the earth.

  “Stay calm,” Tessa stated.

  Oh, he was trying. Only, it was hard when he saw the man’s home. There were two cars in front of it, and it had a well-manicured lawn.

  Someone was living the dream.

  Poppy hadn’t, and that made him borderline rabid.

  “Okay, two-point-five kids, a dog, and he’s married to Betty Freaking Crocker,” Tessa said from the passenger seat as she checked out the surroundings.

  He laughed.

  “Oh, and he screwed around on his wife all those years ago, and he fathered two kids.”

  “Don’t ya know it?” Tessa stated. “Maybe
he saw Poppy, and it made him lose his mind?”

  They would find out.

  “I know if this was my home, and my life, I wouldn’t want someone screwing with it. He could have killed her mother and one kid, and when Poppy wasn’t there, he knew the heat was on so he backed off.”

  Maybe.

  “Let’s go find out,” Dimitri stated. “I don’t know how to detect, so this is on you.”

  Tessa cracked her knuckles.

  “Oh, Merry Christmas to me.”

  Dimitri laughed.

  Yeah, he loved working with Tessa.

  Getting out of their ride, the twosome headed for the house. With each step, Dimitri was more and more irritated. On the porch, he knocked on the door.

  And they waited.

  Before long, an older man opened the door and stared curiously at them.

  “Are you Lewis Garrett?” Tessa asked.

  “Yes, and you are?”

  “Yeah, that doesn’t matter. What does matter is the case we are working on. We are investigating the cold case of Eloise and Daisy Wayne’s deaths.”

  The name registered.

  It was crystal clear that he knew why they were there. It was visible on his face.

  Panic.

  Fear.

  Worry.

  “And?” he said, trying to sound ambivalent.

  Only, it wasn’t working.

  Dimitri could smell the fear. It coated him with a sickly-sweet layer. Oh, this was going to be interesting.

  “Why did you never claim your children?” Dimitri asked. He knew for a fact that the man was Poppy’s father. They had the same facial structure, and her nose and ears resembled his. He was good at things like this. This facial recognition skill helped when you were sniping someone.

  The man went to close the door.

  Dimitri shoved his boot in it.

  “That’s fine. I can have it leak to the media and say that you’re stalking a cop,” Tessa stated. “I’m sure that will go over well.”

  It had the desired effect.

  “WHAT?” he asked, opening the door.

  “Someone went after your daughter, thinking she was Eloise.”