No Justice_A Croft Mob Family Book

by Morgan Kelley

  Yes, he was done slaving away.

  He was in the big league.

  Thank you, Greyson Croft, for making it happen when you did.

  His overzealous behavior gave him the opening he needed to look like he was on the up-and-up. His wife’s ‘untimely’ death and location of her remains had given him a way to retire.

  Yeah, he was free.

  Free to be a bad guy.

  That was his new job in Vegas.

  It was pretty ironic if you thought about it. They’d tried to convict him of his wife’s death, and instead, he’d become a silent power player in Vegas.

  He was the king of manipulations.

  It was his legacy.

  He was the puppet master, jerking the strings and controlling it all.

  What they never found out was that they, in a way, had been right. He was part of her death.

  Did he do the job?

  No.

  Oh, he would kill if need be, but with his wife, he knew how to get it done.

  First, he plotted.

  Who did they think leaked it to the idiot woman who killed her?

  He did.

  Why?

  He’d increased her life insurance a year before with exactly this in mind. A little investigator surveillance, dropped at the dolt’s home—proving her husband was cheating…

  BOOM.

  Instant killer.

  There was nothing like a woman’s rage when they were scorned. People were so sorry and pathetic because they could be easily manipulated. More importantly, they were easy to handle. With Emily Bauer, he’d been able to manipulate her, getting exactly what he wanted and needed from her.

  A push there.

  A prod here.

  She snapped.

  Look at Heath Spencer. He’d lost his mind, threw away his career, and stabbed Emma in the chest.

  Why?

  All for some pennies and a well-planted idea the man was willing to risk it all. His mind was weak.

  He was easily manipulated too.

  It worked for him. His hands stayed clean.

  Relatively.

  Yeah, he was a genius.

  If only those pathetic Crofts were half as smart as he was, they could see what they could be in Vegas if they gave up that farcical dream of cleaning the city of its riff-raff.

  It was a pipe dream.

  Here they were, fighting an uphill battle when all they really had to do was use their heads.

  Money begets money.

  Once you had it, you could make more of it so much more easily.

  It wasn’t that hard.

  Really.

  Think smarter, not harder.

  That was his motto, and it worked for him. It was perfect, and he enjoyed knowing that he was one step ahead of them.

  Like now.

  They’d never think he was going to go after Poppy Wayne. The little mouse ran for her life, and she would be out of mind and sight.

  As in they’d never see her again.

  They’d forget about her.

  They’d assume he would too.

  That wouldn’t be the truth. He’d never let her forget all of the trouble she’d caused him. For that, she’d pay.

  Why would he pursue his revenge on her?

  She was a pathetic, broken shell of a human being, and basically useless. Well, he knew that she’d worked a few cases tied to Zachary Lipton, and that put her on that man’s radar.

  In Vegas, you had to grab the bull by the horns.

  Again, there was his genius.

  He was getting in good with the man by having a common enemy. He’d seen Zachary Lipton golfing at the club, and casually mentioned something he’d read in the news.

  About Poppy.

  Her crazy cases.

  That piqued his interest.

  Why?

  He had to be guilty.

  Jeffrey heard the talk in the underground. He knew what was going on. It gave him the opportunity to weave his plan into action.

  After she was handled, he’d need allies.

  For when?

  For when he turned all of Vegas against Croft. If his plan came to fruition, he would reap the reward.

  He might be able to run the city again—in a non-legal, totally violent way.

  It made him laugh.

  Yeah, he was going to make sure that the man was washed up. No one came to his town to mess with his city. While Croft was here first, Croft had been the law. Yes, he had been the freaking sheriff in this lawless hellhole.

  Well, not anymore.

  There was a new sheriff in town, and while he might not be nearly as rich, he was twice as wicked.

  Taking his coffee out onto the balcony of his new place, he studied the private street he lived on, and the pedestrians walking their dogs, taking their kids to the bus, and oblivious.

  How mundane.

  They were his for the taking. For years, he’d protected and served, and now…he was going to serve—his own interest.

  They were nothing to him.

  Fodder.

  Garbage.

  Tools.

  As they were rushing around to make ends meet, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about them. Little did they realize that this shithole had funded his life.

  They’d funded it.

  Their ignorance had padded his pocket.

  And it was going to continue to do so and make him a very wealthy man.

  As soon as he had all of the players in the game.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  A Vehicle

  Heading Toward

  Poppy’s Location

  Greyson was worried.

  The mere idea that his wife was with someone who had been playing both sides of the coin with the US government and the Russian one, was alarming.

  To say the least.

  He wanted to freak-out.

  He pictured a million different scenarios, and they didn’t end well.

  At all.

  What he needed to do was breathe through that panic and decide if they needed to turn that vehicle around and save the people they could.

  Emma.

  Chris.

  “What do we do?” Heath asked. He knew his boss was freaked-out.

  Dimitri’s gut said to turn back, but his heart said go save Poppy. If she was targeted by Claude Black…she wouldn’t survive. The man was ruthless. If Zachary Lipton had called the dogs out, she wouldn’t see daylight.

  “It’s your call,” he stated, giving Greyson the option. He had to trust the man.

  He was a brother.

  He was a friend.

  “I don’t know,” Greyson stated.

  Heath tried to calm them down.

  “She’s not that bad,” Heath stated. “You can tell she’s not the biggest threat.”

  Dimitri stared at him.

  “She has killed men in their sleep. She was called ‘The Widow’ for a reason. Her hair isn’t that color because she’s fond of red and black. She’s wears it as a sign—like the Black Widow Spider.”

  This wasn’t helping.

  “I’m good at reading people. I say she’s decent,” Heath stated. “A spider isn’t mean. It’s doing what it has to in order to survive.”

  Dimitri laughed.

  Someone was insane.

  Greyson had no choice. To be sure Emma was okay, he pulled out his phone.

  “I need to call my wife.”

  When she answered, on the third ring, he blurted into the phone, “She’s bad news!”

  There was a pause.

  “Uh, Mr. Croft?” Nikita stated. “Are you okay?”

  Well, holy shit!

  Where was his wife, and why was this woman answering the phone?

  His wife’s phone.

  A million things filled his mind—at the top of the list was that Emma was dead.

  Instead of going there, he tried to be calm.

  “Is Emma there?” he asked, trying to figure out if he
needed to lose his mind.

  “Yes, she’s right here.”

  There was a shuffle as he marginally relaxed.

  “Grey, are you okay?” Emma asked. “I couldn’t get to my phone. Man. I can’t wait to give birth.”

  Greyson heard NONE of that. He was worried about the whole ‘Black Widow’ thing.

  He needed to know.

  “Are we on speaker?”

  “No. Why?”

  “She’s bad news,” he offered again, and then he proceeded to tell her everything that Dimitri had told him about the woman in question. He didn’t leave anything out.

  “Grey, I’m good. Ethan said…”

  He cut her off.

  “Don’t go to sleep around her.”

  She snorted.

  “Stop and breathe. You’re losing it.”

  Yeah, he was. He was four weeks away from having his wife give birth, and all he wanted was to see Mac born. For once, no one was targeting them.

  It was…nice.

  For now.

  “What is she doing?”

  “You know that thing you like to do for me in our bedroom after I take a bubble bath?”

  Dimitri and Heath snickered when they heard that. Her phone might not be on speaker, but his was.

  It was clear who the perverts were in the vehicle.

  “Uh, paint your toes?” he said, slapping both of them in the back of the head for being animals. His wife couldn’t bend over. She liked a pedicure.

  Really, it was the least he could do for her.

  She had his large, and in charge, child in her uterus. Painting her piggies...he definitely owed her.

  Emma helped him relax.

  “That’s all,” she stated. “I wanted to wear flipflops. My ankles are swollen. She’s helping a girl out and tell those two MEN with you that Heath won’t get his bakery, and Dimitri will not have a babysitter.”

  They both shut up.

  “Just be careful, okay? Dimitri had issues with her.”

  She could do that.

  Emma blew him a kiss.

  “We’re heading out. Can you relax?” she asked. “I’m good, and I like Nikita. Besides, she was talking about sexy men.”

  “Me?” Greyson asked.

  “NO, Heath. If she starts talking about you, I’m going to be the one going all ‘Black Widow’ on someone.”

  Heath grinned.

  “Told you it wasn’t bakery flab. The ladies love a big man. The bigger the man, the bigger the…”

  Greyson did NOT need to go there.

  “Do tell,” Emma teased.

  No.

  No, he did not want to hear that.

  “Stop.”

  “I was going to say appetite. I like a lady who can cook,” he stated.

  He heard Emma ask Nikita that.

  “She can.”

  Dimitri was appalled.

  “Are you all insane? She’s dangerous, and she sold me out to the KGB.”

  Emma laughed.

  “Let the past go. You stress way too many things, Dimitri,” she offered.

  It was clear his family was nuts.

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah, that time with the KGB made me paranoid. Sue me,” he stated.

  Emma laughed.

  “Ethan gave us the go ahead. I’m going to trust him on this. We don’t know the whole story.”

  Dimitri was appalled.

  “I. WAS. SOLD. OUT. That is the WHOLE story, Emma!”

  Greyson watched him.

  He was calm, and that gave him hope that he wouldn’t lose his shit on that mountain.

  “Yeah, from your side.”

  He sputtered.

  “MY SIDE? How can there be two sides to being sold out to the KGB? That’s pretty one-sided,” he stated.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t have been a cranky bitch for the last three months, and then maybe I wouldn’t be so inclined to ignore you. Actions have repercussions,” Emma teased.

  Greyson laughed.

  “Well, it’s true. Emma has a point.”

  Yeah, and more importantly, she could read people too. Honestly, she liked Nikita. The woman wasn’t bad.

  Call it mother’s intuition.

  “Greyson, I have to go. We’re leaving in the limo soon to head to the hotel. Call me later, if you can, and please be careful. Dimitri, I’m glad you worked it out.”

  Yeah, he was too.

  “I may not be able to call you, Emma,” Greyson offered. “It’s a remote location.”

  Or he could be sitting in a sniper’s nest with a gun. Only, he didn’t go there.

  He didn’t want to stress her out.

  She understood.

  “Be safe, babe.”

  He would try.

  When they hung up, Dimitri was staring at him.

  “You can’t seriously tell me that you’re going to ignore me and listen Ethan Blackhawk?”

  Here was his conundrum.

  He had two people he called friends. People could change. Dimitri wasn’t the same man as he was all those years ago. Maybe Nikita wasn’t either.

  “Yeah, on this, I am. You’re too close to the fire on this one. The man has never let me down.”

  “OH, and I have?”

  “Well, yes,” Heath stated, recounting the ways on his big fingers. “You’ve been bitchy, you beat on Chris, you punched him in the…”

  “Shut up, Heath.”

  “You’re not my boss, so…,” he teased. “Besides, you’re not even your boss. You gave away your company,” he said, bringing it back up again. “You’re a man without a company.”

  Greyson snorted.

  “He has a point.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “What the hell was I thinking even trying to rationalize with you two?”

  Greyson winked at Heath. He knew this was going to be tough. Poppy had left, so that meant she didn’t really want to see him. Dimitri might have to come to the conclusion that his short-lived relationship was over.

  If she was alive.

  Only, he didn’t want to bring that possibility up. He was sure it was in the back of the man’s mind.

  Why provoke him?

  For now, they’d keep him thinking about anything else so they could try to save the woman.

  The man needed a distraction, and he was going to get it.

  From them.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  LVPD Commissioner’s

  Office

  When he heard the FBI wanted to have a meeting with him, Commissioner Leo Markum was a little concerned. He couldn’t imagine it was going to be a pleasant conversation.

  How could it be?

  The FBI didn’t like to sit down and have casual chats for no reason. It just didn’t happen.

  Besides, Leo was well aware of the shit that had gone down in Las Vegas, and he was all about making it right.

  How?

  First, he fired any cop who might be dirty.

  Yes, he did.

  When he came onboard, he cleaned house. It was good to get rid of the bad apples, even if it left them short staffed.

  Only, he realized one thing.

  The good cops would rather work overtime than be worried they were going to be stabbed in the back at any moment by a cop on the take.

  Too much of that had been going on, and the mayor’s office was over it. The war that had been brewing, led by Jeffrey Raye, had been a publicity nightmare.

  Shootings in the street.

  The Crofts being stabbed at functions.

  An out of control group of cops on the take.

  It was scaring people away from the tourism, and when that happened, Vegas didn’t make money.

  It was the city of tourism.

  That was its money maker.

  It was on the brink of catastrophe.

  The city council, and mayor, wanted the rumors squashed, and the mayhem ended, so it was his job to take care of his end of the issue.


  The police precincts.

  Oh, and he would.

  He was going to be tough. He was going to take no mercy on the bad guys.

  Maybe that was why he was given the job, and he would handle everything that came with it. They were going to be accountable.

  To the end.

  Now, he was being asked to meet with someone from the FBI, and it made him nervous.

  Oh, he wasn’t alone.

  The new homicide captain was also there, and his feet were being held to the fire alongside his.

  Misery liked company.

  “What’s this about?” Captain Horatio Lewis asked as they waited for the FBI to show.

  “Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m sure it won’t be fun. The FBI doesn’t request meetings unless something big is about to go down.”

  Horatio agreed.

  This was going to suck.

  He knew it.

  “Well, we’ve cleaned house, Leo. I’m not sure exactly what they can want. Now that Jeffrey Raye is gone, we might be able to cleanup this city. Maybe they want to offer their help?” he asked, hopefully.

  Leo laughed.

  He wouldn’t bet on that.

  “Uh, okay. Someone was dipping in the optimism-laced coffee today before work. Oh, look, he didn’t bother to bring any for me.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “No need for sarcasm. You’re cranky.”

  “Uh, the FBI is heading here. That’s reason to be cranky.”

  “Try being optimistic. Think about it,” Horatio stated. “Croft was removed, and Captain Ford was removed, so maybe that’s the beginning of something better.”

  He wasn’t so sure.

  When there was a knock to his office door, Leo’s secretary peeked her head in to announce that their company had just arrived for the meeting.

  “Sir, the FBI is here.”

  So, it began.

  “Send them in.”

  Both men were caught off guard. They were expecting someone else, because the pretty woman, dressed well, carrying a bag couldn’t possibly be a Fed.

  This was the FBI liaison?

  She looked too young, too sweet, and…it just wasn’t possible.

  “Can I help you?” he asked.

  “I was sent by Ethan Blackhawk. He would like to have a confidential conversation with you,” she began, placing her bag on the chair and shaking both of their hands.