Love is Bleeding (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 4)

by Morgan Kelley

  “No, head out. I want you all back today by three. I need to head home for that auction tonight. Unfortunately, I don’t just have to worry about some serial killer today. I have a very full plate and no time for nonsense.” He stood. “Let’s go, Agent Archer.”

  Paris followed and the look on his face must have spoken volumes, because Tessa actually grabbed his hand and mouthed ‘I love you.’

  What could he do? He followed his boss from the room, whispering a silent prayer. All he could hope was both of them wouldn’t be fired.

  This was bad. Paris Archer felt like he was being led off to his own slaughter.

  Damn!

  He wished he had more control around Tessa.

  Croft led him back to his office and after the younger agent was inside, he closed the door. “Have a seat.”

  Paris did just that, but he opted to be honest and hope for the best. “It was all my fault!” he blurted.

  Greyson was a little caught off guard, and honestly didn't know what the hell Paris was talking about. All he did know was that the man looked beyond frazzled.

  “I swear, it’ll never happen again. I made a mistake. Please don’t blame, Tess.”

  It was beginning to dawn on him. Male plus female plus guilty conscious only equaled on thing in his book.

  Sex.

  Since they stayed there last night, it was obvious to him what the man was worried about.

  “Damn it, Paris!”

  The man jumped. “I’m sorry! We were tired and fell asleep on the couch, but I have very little control around Tessa to begin with. Then, you throw in the exhaustion and her laying on me,” he babbled. “If you’re going to fire someone, it should be. I’m a walking hormone around her. I’m to blame!”

  Croft held up his hand to stop him. “You’re just lucky no one caught you. I’m even sorry I know. I hate thinking about the sex life of my agents. I’ll never look at that office the same way again, or you and her for that matter!”

  Then, reality dawned. Paris was a complete idiot. “You didn't know, did you? I wasn’t called in here to discuss what I did, was I?”

  Greyson shook his head, trying not to laugh. Of all the things his agents could do, this was the least of his issues. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

  He’d sweat the big stuff, not this.

  Paris began cursing. He couldn’t believe that he just spilled the beans to his boss and without the man even having a clue. For someone with such a high IQ, he was an idiot.

  Now, Tessa was going to kick his ass.

  “Can we keep this a secret?” he asked hopefully. That was his only chance. Before his boss could answer, he continued, “I want to marry her and make her my wife, but it’s never going to happen. Every day, I spend the majority worried that she’s going to get hurt. If I let myself have the opportunity to make her mine, I’m going to have to stop being her partner. It’s killing me. I know what I did was wrong, and I’m sorry.”

  Croft sympathized with the man. “I understand how hard it is, son. I watch Emma go off to work a dangerous job every day, and I’m helpless to protect her. For Christ’s sake, she was taken right out from under me once before.”

  Paris took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Is it worth it?” he asked. “Is marriage that much better than just living together?” He had to know, and Paris suspected that the man in front of him wouldn’t lie. They all watched Greyson Croft with his wife. When she was with him, he was gentle, sweet, and doting. There had to be something there to make the ‘Ice King’ melt into a puddle.

  Paris needed to know, before he could make the next step in his mind.

  “Being married is a completely different beast, Paris. I wouldn’t change it for the world. There’s something mystifying about the word ‘wife’ that brings me to my knees every time I say it. It’s worth the worry to know you’ve married your other half.”

  He thought about what his boss was trying to convey. “If we get married, are we definitely split up?”

  Croft sighed. “I don’t know. I’d have to plead your case to the higher-ups. It will come down to what they say. I’m the boss, here in this neck of the woods, but I have to answer to three other people. I don’t condone lying, and won’t do it for anyone, you included.”

  He nodded. “I want to marry her. I’m just scared I’ll get the call that she’s dead. How do I go on if that happens?”

  Yep, this man was most definitely in love. He was willing to suffer to have Tessa in his life.

  Greyson stood in front of his agent. The man looked tortured. It was ironic, because profiling for the FBI meant you faced down lots of scary shit. Here, Paris Archer was being twisted up over his woman.

  “I can only give you advice that I’d personally follow. If it were me, and I say this from experience, follow your heart and the rest will fall into place. Fate is fate. You can’t change the path mid-journey. If something is meant to happen, you can’t stop it. Really, you’re overthinking this.”

  He laughed. “That’s what Tessa tells me all the time.”

  “Women are smarter than us. You may be a genius, but I’d listen to your partner on this.”

  Paris knew he had to let it go, or it was going to drive him crazy. “Why did you want to see me?” he asked, suddenly realizing that if he wasn’t in trouble, there had to be another issue.

  “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you. I know you’re busy pulling this killer apart on paper, but my boss made a suggestion. I’m going to offer it to you first.”

  “What?”

  “He wants either you or Maggie Clark on the next scene. Ethan Blackhawk thinks you’ll see something that may help us. Are you okay with that?” he asked.

  Paris wanted to laugh. His idol was Ethan Blackhawk. If the man wanted him to stand on his head and chant in Pig Latin, he’d do it. “Absolutely. I’ll be there.”

  There was a knock on his door. Since it was Saturday, Linda was off. “Come in!”

  When Maggie Clark walked in, Greyson offered her a seat. “I was just talking to Paris about a profile. Are you both ready?”

  He didn't bring his tablet. “Can I go grab my things? I made notes.”

  Croft dismissed him, and as soon as he was gone, he noticed that Maggie wanted to say something. “Go ahead,” he offered, taking his seat.

  “I appreciate that you want to give me a backup profiler, in case I’m sick, but he’s green.”

  Croft steepled his fingers, already wary of the direction this conversation was going. “Please continue.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Director. I know we all had to start at the beginning, but do you think that this high profile a case is a good place to let a newbie run amuck? What if he twists this case up so much no one can figure it out?”

  Being director of an office this big, there was a lot to be responsible for. Everyone managed differently, but if there was one thing Croft had no patience for, it was throwing someone under the bus. They were a team. He expected each person to pull their co-workers up, not cut them down.

  “For the record,” he began, “Paris Archer has a master’s degree in forensic psychology, ten years in the field, and is working on his doctorate. He’s not exactly a college co-ed that I found at a kegger. The man’s IQ is higher than yours and mine combined.”

  She understood. “I’m just saying that he’s skittish. In this job, you have to give it your all. I don’t think it’s fair to make him compete against a seasoned professional.”

  “This isn't a competition. It’s a team.”

  Maggie leaned forwards. “No offense, Director, but I know there’s only room for one profiler in this office, and I enjoy my job. So, let’s knock the bullshit off. Am I being phased out for him? Is he my replacement because he’s in his thirties and I’m closer to fifty?”

  He crossed his arms, irritated that she’d throw out the age card. “No, you’re not. You and I both know that each office has one full time profiler. Paris is still catego
rized as an agent who profiles.”

  She was satisfied with that. “Then that’s all I need to know.”

  Before Croft could really tear into her, Paris returned. “Shall we begin?” He was going to have to deal with the uprising later. For now, he needed to find the killer, and then get Vegas under control.

  “I’m ready,” Paris said, sitting.

  “Let me warn you both that Ethan Blackhawk will be going over all your notes, so forward them to me. I’ve decided that while you both give excellent points, I need a little more, and he trained you, Maggie, correct?”

  “Yes, sir. I worked with him out of Quantico,” she answered, glancing over at Paris. “Have you met him?”

  “Once in training.”

  Croft spoke up before the woman could say more, “Then, you get the privilege of amazing me first.”

  Maggie opened her files. “I saw the data on the doctor. He’s a good suspect. Doctors often hold life and death in their hands. There could be a viable correlation between him and the killer. After all, he’s deciding who lives and who dies.”

  Croft glanced over at Paris. “Your opinion?”

  “I don’t buy it. This is an act of rage and aggression. He’s picking off one person at a time. That takes planning. This shows organization. This isn't random, if it was, he would have sat in the building outside of ours and picked off twenty Feds in one clip. Each victim means something. We need to figure that out, and if we do, I guarantee it’s going to be the key.”

  Maggie shook his head. “I disagree. This person simply hates the FBI.”

  “I agree he does, but why? That’s going to be our motive. Once we crack what those five agents had in common, we’ll have it. There has to be an underlying reason he’s killing.”

  “The doctor might like being in control. There’s this technical term for it. Maybe you’ve heard of it,” she stated. “It’s called the God Complex. It’s mostly found in doctors and physicians. Maybe in his practice, he can’t decide if these people live, so he’s taking it a step further.”

  Paris wasn’t buying it. “Then why wound the director? What would the point be?”

  “Maybe he missed. The killer could be coming unhinged and just winged him.”

  Croft listened to it all.

  “It was to get his attention and draw media spotlight. Who’s the most newsworthy man in Vegas?” Paris pointed at his boss. “The killer wants attention. This is a showdown for a reason. In this town, when you hear the word ‘FBI’, Greyson Croft is somewhere after it. He’s the poster boy for our field.”

  Maggie didn't look impressed.

  “Director, have you ever gone to that physician?”

  He shook his head. Apparently, his agent had covered all the bases that Maggie was going to try to play.

  She knew her job. “I’m going to focus on the doctor, and you can follow your theory. One of us will be right and one will be wrong.”

  “Again, this is a team, Maggie,” Croft repeated, reminding the brunette that they didn't play games here.

  “It’s okay, sir,” Paris said. “I understand that Maggie isn't used to having her profiles questioned, and I’m not doing that. I’m simply covering our bases. If I’m wrong, it doesn’t matter as long as she’s right. I want to catch this guy, not worry who is smarter or better. Every day is a learning experience, and I’m willing to work and learn.”

  Croft appreciated that.

  “I’ll go back over the two suspects remaining, and see if I can figure out what ties them together other than a possible vendetta against the FBI. That’ll free up Maggie to focus on the doctor.” Besides, he was already working on something and only needed a little more time to figure it out. Right now, it was in the beginning stages of his mind. Paris wasn’t quite ready to share the information yet.

  There was no point in making a fool out of himself if he was way off base.

  “That works for me. Keep in mind what we discussed earlier, Agent,” he said, alluding to the discussion of him being on scene next time.

  “Yes, sir,” he replied. When he stood, he cordially nodded at Maggie before leaving. He needed some place quiet to start working. While Tessa was out in the field, he would take the time he needed to get a grasp on it all.

  When both profilers were gone, Greyson picked up the phone and dialed a number he’d memorized. God knew that he had called his boss enough in the last few weeks. The ringing continued, until he heard a screech and babbling.

  Apparently, a child had absconded his cell.

  Blackhawk was laughing as he finally got the phone back from his son, CJ. “I’m sorry, Greyson. I was trying to feed two kids, when our holy terror took off running. He’s his mother’s child.”

  There were voices in the background and laughter.

  “Yes, baby.” He continued before his pregnant wife kicked his ass, “What’s up?”

  “I have both profilers’ notes, and more of a conundrum. They barely agree on anything. How subjective can profiling be?”

  Blackhawk laughed. “Oh, you’re either right or wrong. There isn't really a gray area. When you’re dealing with the human psyche, it’s fairly straightforward.”

  He told him what both agents had come up with and hoped that his boss would have some epiphany just from what he relayed. When he didn't speak, Greyson prayed for some sage advice.

  “While the doctor is a viable suspect, I lean more toward an act of hate. You know how hard it is to pull that trigger. If you weren’t doing it in the Army as a sniper, would you do it today, randomly?”

  He thought about it. “No. I hate shooting anyone.”

  “So, picture just randomly picking someone off. Why?”

  “Rage and anger.”

  “If this is a drug thing, or the doctor has something to do with it, he’d have to have a good reason. We’re talking about a man who at one time took the Hippocratic Oath. I think Paris is right about finding out the source of the anger. Once you do, it’ll all fall into place.”

  “That’s it? Do you have anything else for me?”

  He laughed. “Well, I do have one remaining piece of advice,” he offered.

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t give your toddler your work cell phone. It ends up smelling like cookie breath and gets sticky. It’s very distracting and a little bit revolting.”

  It helped the man relax as he laughed. “Thanks for that. Did we get anything back on the money from the poker game? I think we should wrap this call up with some good news.”

  Blackhawk put his phone on speaker to flip through his emails. “Yeah, I’ll send the details over, but here are the basics. Someone at that table had money that was closely related to the serial numbers found on the cash in your predecessor’s possession. It was close enough that it alerted the forensic team.”

  Croft thought about the men at that table. “So, we might actually have a face to go with the asshole that tried to hurt my wife.”

  “Quite possibly, or we have someone in their employment.”

  It was good enough for him. Tonight, none of the men there were going to get anywhere near his wife. Even if he had to sell his soul to Randall Mason, getting him to pay any price for her private piano concert.

  “We’ll figure it out. Just stay public and keep your eyes open. Eventually, someone’s going to want to line your pocket. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Maybe aligning myself with Mason was a bad idea, Ethan. What if he’s scaring away any potential people? He’s a big deal in Vegas, and no one ever messes with him. The seedy underbelly is terrified because he can buy and sell them all.” There was no doubt in his mind that Mason was his barrier. No one would cross him, not while he was alive.

  “I say we give it a few more weeks and go from there. You might have to have a big, ugly, public breakup.”

  Croft laughed. “I hope I get custody of Emma. He’s a little too much in love with my wife. I’m not into sharing.”

  Then, he realized what he
said.

  “Oh shit, I didn't mean… I hope you didn't think... I was in no way referring to… Just shit!”

  Blackhawk laughed, not the least bit offended. “Different stroke for different folks, my friend. No harm done.”

  He looked down at his watch. “I have to go. My team’s in the field, and my wife is alone with my brother. Who the hell knows what’ll happen?”

  Again, Blackhawk laughed, teasing his employee. “I know what happens here.”

  Croft wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he took the easy way out. “Bye, Ethan!” he said, hanging up his phone to an earful of laughter.

  Thank God, his boss had a sense of humor.

  ~ Chapter Fourteen ~

  The agents and detective played divide and conquer. When they tossed the coin, Brynn Westmore ended up going into the field with someone she had never worked before. Not that it mattered. If you had worked with one Fed, you had worked with them all.

  Well, that’s what she thought until she met the bouncing brunette who was making her borderline insane. She was hyper, cheery, and a talker. Brynn now knew how her partner felt when she drank too much caffeine.

  This experience was eye opening.

  Everything was going smoothly, until her new partner for the searches began talking about the one topic which was a sore spot in her life. The agent beside her was a nice girl, but there was the topic of conversation that pissed her off.

  Curtis Briggs.

  The minute Agent Jamie Price began the idle chitchat about the cute young agent, Brynn began to get wary. When she revealed who ‘Mr. Hottie’ was, she got downright sick.

  Apparently, after they had broken up, word traveled that Curtis Briggs was available and the sharks began circling. He’d gotten a lot of attention when they were over. Now, she was curious if he took any of the Feds up on their offers.

  That thought horrified Brynn. The only thing worse was when the young agent stated the woman who let him go was a fool.

  Yeah, she was well aware.

  Damn it!

  Now, she had this to worry about too.