No Justice_A Croft Mob Family Book

by Morgan Kelley

  With that, he turned and headed out.

  No one stopped him.

  When he was gone, Emma took her seat. For a good five minutes, they all sat there in silence, weighing what had just happened.

  No, they were waiting on Emma to cave and forgive him. Normally, she was the peacemaker. Normally, when Greyson, or Dimitri, went over the edge, she reeled them back in.

  Only, they couldn’t ignore the obvious.

  Dimitri was bailing too.

  What?

  The?

  Hell?

  “Anyway, about leaving,” she began, trying to get them back on track. “He can have Vegas. We’re out of here.”

  They all stared at her.

  The ice in her voice was so unfamiliar, it scared them all. That was so unlike her. It was clear she was at her breaking point.

  Kat began crying. She softly wept as her husband held her in his arms.

  Curtis couldn’t do this to Kat. While he wasn’t a fan of what had gone down, who here hadn’t fucked it up at least three times?

  Family forgave.

  It was time to go to bad for Dimitri.

  “Emma,” Curtis stated, knowing that there was more on the line than just him leaving. He had to make her see.

  He would take Sam and Petra.

  Kat would lose her brother.

  “No, Curtis. Unless there is an act of God or something falls into our laps to change this situation, we are packing up and leaving Las Vegas.”

  Clearly, her mind was made up, and she didn’t want to hear it.

  “I’m going with you,” Chris stated.

  Dante shrugged.

  “We’re in, right, babe?” he asked Steele.

  “I’m in.”

  Curtis didn’t want to force his wife make this choice.

  “Dad. Please.”

  Greyson felt for the man. They were all in a bad position and angry.

  Before he could say anything, another voice broke the silence of the room.

  It was one they’d never heard before that moment.

  “I have a delivery for Greyson Croft.”

  They all turned to find a strange woman standing in the penthouse.

  A woman they didn’t know.

  A woman they didn’t let into their private family space.

  Chris, Heath, and Greyson pulled their guns and pointed them at her. That set the mood for how they felt about a complete stranger being in their home.

  Oh, and sneaking up behind them.

  It was puzzling how she’d materialized in that room.

  HOW?

  Then, Heath recognized her.

  Sort of.

  “Wait! I’ve seen her before,” he stated. He couldn’t put his finger on it. She looked very familiar, but where had their paths crossed?

  “Well, that breaks my heart, big guy,” she stated. “Am I that forgettable?” she asked.

  Greyson recognized her too.

  Something was very familiar.

  Only, he couldn’t figure out where he’d seen her. She was pretty, had distinct facial features, and…?

  “First, how did you get in here?” Emma asked. The woman was tall and had fiery red hair—not like hers. This woman’s hair was dyed that color, and it had streaks of black in it.

  Like a black widow spider.

  That was immediately what she thought.

  Jesus.

  What was this?

  “Uh, Ethan Blackhawk sent me. He said this delivery was urgent, and he offered up my services. As for how I got in here, I killed everyone downstairs. Was that wrong of me?” she asked, smiling at them.

  They gasped.

  “I hope you’re kidding,” Greyson stated, not sure if the stranger was joking or not.

  “I am. Blackhawk cleared it with the men downstairs. He got me access. Apparently, he’d been here before,” she said, the accent slipping.

  They heard it.

  She was Russian.

  Shit!

  Greyson placed her.

  “The stripper giving out lap dances at that strip club! You were there!”

  Emma stared at him like he was insane.

  Did her husband want to die?

  “What?” Emma stated. “Maybe you want to quantify that with some explanation? When were you in a strip club?”

  Yeah, he should explain and fast.

  Emma was not in a good mood.

  “On our last case, Riley, Heath, and I had to visit that strip club. Remember?” he said, hoping his wife didn’t kill him.

  If he’d learned anything, it was that pregnancy made a woman mean.

  Heath smiled.

  “You’re the one who gave me the lap dance and the information in the back room!”

  She smiled at him and was glad he recognized her. She couldn’t forget him.

  Ever.

  “Yes, Danger is my name, stripping isn’t really my game,” she stated, the Russian accent back in her voice. It was time to reveal who she really was.

  “Ethan sent you?” Greyson asked.

  She focused on him.

  “Yes, Mr. Croft. It seems that he’s found Poppy Wayne and her hiding place. He has intel on a shitstorm that’s coming, and he wants me to help you.”

  “Do what?” Emma asked. “Strip?”

  Danger didn’t get insulted. In her line of work, you played who you were paid to be. She did her job, and that was all that mattered.

  Drunk men had loose lips, and they said a lot in a strip club. Intel was intel.

  That was the bottom line.

  “Actually, Mrs. Croft, I’m ex-CIA and currently a Fed,” she began.

  That was only the half of it.

  She had run with a dangerous crowd.

  Thus.

  Her.

  Name.

  “For the record, Danger was my undercover name. You can call me Nikita. It’s Nikita Petrova, but that’s the least of your worries. Right now, you have a huge problem.”

  Greyson was confused as hell.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Jeffrey Raye is tying up loose ends. He has put a hit out on your missing cop. If you don’t get to her first, she’s dead.”

  Oh, shit.

  Yeah, that was not good.

  Not at all.

  It looked like NO ONE was leaving Las Vegas.

  For now.

  Chapter Two

  H onestly, they didn’t think there was going to be any good news in the dossier that she was carrying, but they were ready to hear it. At this point, it was about getting to Poppy and bringing her home. That was what they needed to do for Dimitri.

  Why?

  Because, like the Marines, they left no man behind. The Crofts wouldn’t allow Poppy to aimlessly wander after what had happened to her. They also would do it for Dimitri and what he’d meant to all of them.

  Yes, the man had burned the bridges to them in his anger, and no, no one was feeling magnanimous—especially Emma—but they had made a promise to help people, and Poppy Wayne needed their help.

  For now, they’d have to put that anger aside.

  Only, this time, it might be hard. Emma was really unhappy with what had gone down. She didn’t often hold a grudge.

  She was easygoing.

  That she was this pissed meant that Poppy, and Dimitri, had crossed a line.

  Greyson wasn’t sure she was going to help. That he had to even question that proved how far gone into the anger she was.

  Emma was the mother of the group, and that meant an instant love that had never had limitations.

  Until now.

  He was worried that she didn’t really seem onboard with finding Poppy for Dimitri. As her husband, he could read her.

  Emma’s face said it all.

  Then again, maybe she was pissed because his face said it all. He was cut up, battered, and bruised, and that was sure to piss anyone off—especially a wife.

  “Em, honey,” he said.

  She stopped him, alrea
dy knowing what he was going to say to her.

  “We’ll listen to what you have to say,” Emma said to Nikita. “I’m not really in the mood to save someone who left. I have bigger issues to worry about now.”

  They all stared at her and the ambivalence to the whole situation.

  “Mom,” Curtis stated, “please.”

  She softened a little.

  “I said I’d listen.”

  It looked like that was going to be all they could get out of Emma. She’d clearly had enough of Dimitri’s shitty behavior.

  Nikita waited for them to get ready. When they finally sat, she opened the file and began pulling it apart to share what Ethan had found.

  First up, she held up a picture.

  “This is Claude Black,” she said, passing around the rest of the dossier. “He’s a hired gun. His goal in life is to make as much money as possible, cause as much bloodshed, and not get caught doing it.”

  “And?” Greyson stated. “What does he have to do with this?”

  She pulled a tiny drive from the file and popped it into the control base that they had, to use the technology. Immediately, on the screen, again, the man’s face appeared, and intel scrolled by for them to read. It was different than what was in the paper file.

  That meant the government had two different files. One for people to see, and one that was classified. It looked like Ethan had given them both.

  Perfect.

  That was friendship at its finest.

  Together, they read.

  Dante whistled once he finished reading the screen. This was one really bad dude.

  “He’s a career criminal.”

  Yes, yes, he was.

  His rap sheet was LONG.

  The man was definitely a scourge upon the city. It was clear that he wasn’t a saint or a Boy Scout by any means.

  That made him their problem…if they stayed.

  “Okay, and what does this have to do with Poppy?” Emma asked again.

  Emma wasn’t sure where Nikita was heading with this, but she was pretty sure they needed to know. She got it that someone had called the big guns out on her, but why? Who?

  Nikita got down to business. She was no longer smiling, and she became serious—and fast.

  “He’s trouble.”

  She figured it would be best to sit, so she could keep talking. Since all of the spaces on the couch were taken, she parked her leather-clad ass on the arm of Heath’s chair.

  “The man is a loose cannon.”

  Yeah, they could see that. What else could they see?

  How Heath was focused on the woman perched on the arm of his chair.

  Mainly, her ass.

  No one missed how he was focused on that.

  His aqua eyes were filled with male appreciation.

  When Emma cleared her voice, he looked over at her and blushed. He’d been caught ogling the cookie jar.

  “Awww, Mrs. C,” he stated.

  She actually laughed.

  “Focus, Heath.”

  He couldn’t help it. He’d recalled the lap dance, and Nikita looked pretty hot in leather.

  Sue him.

  He was a single man.

  He had to appreciate the scenery.

  “Carry on,” Emma stated, getting the woman to go back to what she was doing.

  “Absolutely.”

  Nikita knew that in some cases, it was better to hear than to read. She pushed a button, and an audio file came to life.

  This should answer any of their questions.

  ‘I can take care of her for you. My boss wants her handled anyway. She’s a nosey bitch. I’ll make it happen. As for money, you know what we agreed upon. Have it ready once she’s dead. I’ll make her regret meddling in your business or my boss’s.’

  She played it again so they would really hear the whole thing and understand.

  It registered as they all listened.

  Someone was buying a hit on someone.

  Well, that didn’t sound good.

  At all.

  “Who is his boss?” Greyson asked, curious to who was talking.

  She sent more information to the screen.

  “That’s a good question, but first let’s start with who wants the initial hit on her. Again, the answer to that would be a man by the name of Jeffrey Raye.”

  It registered.

  Emma sighed.

  “He’s not done? He’s still going after her?”

  Nikita shook her head.

  “No, Mrs. Croft. It seems that he’s called out the dogs on Ms. Wayne, and in this case, that’s really bad. He likes to rape, torture, and kill. He’s basically a serial killer who takes money to do the job. I know serial killers, and this one is loco.”

  Great.

  Just freaking great.

  “The last victim we think he ‘handled’ came back in pieces. He’s called the ‘Exterminator’ for a reason. He goes in, he handles the pestilence, and he gets out.”

  “Jesus,” Greyson stated. “Raye got his hands on his wife’s inheritance and has lost his mind. Is he sanctioning hits on cops? Has he gone loco?”

  She clarified.

  The man was missing part of the picture, and they needed to get caught up—fast.

  “We are pretty sure he had money lying around because Claude Black is not cheap. He’s a power player in Vegas when it comes to a hired gun. The only one who gets paid more per hit is…Dimitri Gideon.”

  They all played dumb, but Kat looked worried that she’d even brought up his name. If the Feds were keeping track of Dimitri…

  “We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Emma stated, covering for him. “Surely, your intel is wrong.”

  Nikita laughed at that.

  “That’s funny, Mrs. Croft. We can play it that way. Since you’ve corrected me, Claude Black IS the highest paid gun in Vegas.”

  Emma might be angry, but she wasn’t throwing Dimitri to the wolves.

  Not happening.

  Greyson didn’t give a shit what the FBI knew. He trusted Ethan to give him a heads-up should something go down. What concerned him was this information. Croft knew this wasn’t good.

  A hired gun was aiming for Poppy.

  That made this urgent.

  “Okay, where is she?” he asked.

  She pulled up a picture of a map. It was of a mountainous region a distance from them in Vegas. It wouldn’t be an easy hunt for the ex-runaway cop.

  It looked like Poppy decided to hide where she was familiar. Someone was camping.

  “You asked Blackhawk to track her, well, he put a trace on her phone. It was off all day Sunday, but late last night, she turned it on for about five minutes. We were able to tag her for you to pinpoint her location.”

  She zoomed in using some likely high-tech satellite footage. The video showed where she was hiding.

  There was a cabin in the middle of the woods in Nevada. It was definitely secluded and would give Poppy a place to lay low until she could move.

  Unfortunately, it was also the perfect place to be a victim of a hired hitman.

  “That’s exactly the kind of location Claude Black would love to work,” Nikita offered. “He’ll kill her there and leave her in a duffle bag.”

  That disgusted Emma.

  Even though she wasn’t happy with the woman—or Dimitri—no one deserved to die like that.

  No one.

  “Why is he targeting Poppy—other than the fact that Raye has a stick up his ass?” she asked, running her hand over her belly to soothe her baby from going crazy. “He can’t possibly be this twisted up over her ruining his fun.”

  When she was stressed, Mac was stressed.

  “Boy, huh?” Nikita asked.

  Emma blinked as if caught off guard. No one knew the sex of the baby outside the family, and with good reason. Their lives sold tabloids. They were protecting their son.

  “Yes, but how did you know that? We’ve kept it quiet so far through the pregnancy.”
>
  Nikita smiled and winked at her.

  “Oh, my family has the gypsy bloodline. I can tell by how you’re carrying what the sex was going to be.”

  She wasn’t sure she bought into that.

  Before she could say otherwise, Nikita was back to business. It was hard to gauge her. She jumped from friendly, non-dangerous, and then back to agent in the blink of an eye.

  “Anyway, Detective Wayne was working a series of cases before Jeffrey Raye caused this mess. She had bodies in duffle bags, and that’s where the ‘boss’ comes into this.”

  Okay, that made a little more sense. How else would a cop connect to a ‘boss’ in Vegas? There were only two ways. By crookedness or by a case.

  It helped that it was the latter. The last thing they needed was to find out Poppy was a dirty cop.

  Jesus.

  That would be a disaster.

  “Well, bodies popping up never makes anyone happy—law enforcement or the people doing the killing,” Emma stated.

  “Exactly,” Nikita stated. “This is the perfect storm. You have a cop who is digging, and an ex-commissioner who is angry enough to want someone dead. Poppy Wayne is boxed in.”

  Yeah, they had to help.

  But first…

  “Who is the other player in the game?” Greyson asked.

  Nikita figured he’d want to know, so she pulled another photo up on the screen. In it, there was a fat bald man who Greyson recognized.

  No introductions were necessary.

  Anyone who did business in the city knew the man by his picture alone. His reputation?

  It was even worse.

  “That’s Zachary Lipton. He’s a businessman here in the city. He’s one of our competitors,” Dante stated, cluing in those who didn’t handle the Croft enterprise’s financial aspect. “We import furniture now, and he has been feeling the crunch. We’re outselling him in the hotels around the area.”

  “We are?” Grey asked. “How much do we know about selling furniture?” he asked.

  “Well, when you have two gay men picking out furniture and accessories, bro, what did you think was going to happen? Of course it’s fabulous.”

  Greyson would have laughed, but he knew that Zachary Lipton was as dirty as the day is long. He was no laughing matter when it came to him touching their world.