No Justice_A Croft Mob Family Book

by Morgan Kelley

  “Hurt him,” Greyson stated.

  Nikita punched him again, and then pulled her gun. She placed it under his chin. All of the women watched, none of them feeling sorry for him.

  “Don’t go shooting your mouth off,” she purred, running her nails down his cheek to leave four bloody scratches.

  Heath kept Dimitri at bay, but he was watching her work. It was a thing of beauty. The woman he was crazy about was dangerous. Yeah, she was totally not a school teacher who needed a full-time babysitter.

  That turned him right on.

  Greyson wasn’t done. He pushed on, trying to get the man to crack.

  “Did those men come in here?”

  “YES! They are regulars.”

  “How many women were sold to these men?” he asked, passing his phone around.

  Half the twenty women raised their hands when they saw Zachary Lipton’s picture with Harold Cline’s.

  That told him all he needed to know.

  “Hit him for me,” Greyson stated.

  “Nikita, and me,” Dimitri stated.

  She did, and her nails raked across his bare chest, leaving worse scratches.

  He whimpered.

  “Where can I find this pimp friend of yours? And where did he send those women? The Hidden Pearl?” he asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ladies, did you go to a motel?” he asked.

  One-by-one, they all said no.

  “The homes of the men?”

  One mermaid actress stepped forward.

  “It was mostly blowjobs from me in their cars,” she stated. “My daughter has special needs. I couldn’t lose my job. He knew that.”

  Nikita stepped down on his balls, and then gave his very limp dick a twist.

  He cried as there was a pop.

  “Oops. I broke a testicle. My bad. I guess they are like eggs.”

  Greyson cringed.

  Yowza.

  He wouldn’t want to get naked with her. Heath was a brave, brave man. She knew her way around the male body, and not in a good way.

  “What’s his address?” Greyson asked.

  AGAIN.

  Between tears and sobs, he shouted it out.

  Greyson knew it was time.

  “Get him free,” he stated. “He can have his clothes. He’s leaving, and NATE COLLINS, if you go to the police, or even mention my name, all of the women here will say you came at me after I confronted you for pimping them out.”

  They all agreed.

  Nikita pulled a blade from her pocket and ran it across his limp dick.

  “You should see a doctor,” she stated. “That looks painful,” she added, as she went behind him and cut him free.

  Heath tossed him his clothes.

  Greyson began writing checks for each and every woman, apologizing as he went.

  They all took them, reassuring him his secret was safe with them. They wouldn't betray their savior.

  Dimitri also apologized profusely, promising that it would never happen again. He would make it right.

  One of the mermaids reassured him.

  “Mr. Gideon, you didn’t know. It’s okay,” she said. “You fixed it once you did. That’s all that matters.”

  “If you can’t work here, I understand,” he said. “If you stay, I promise to get someone here who won’t hurt you. I promise to make sure I place a manager above that manager, and it’ll be a woman I trust.”

  They all wanted to stay.

  “Go home for the day. Neptune is closed.”

  They did.

  He waited for all of them to leave.

  When they were gone, Dimitri walked over to the large bar, poured a large drink and then sipped it.

  “We have to find this Tommy guy,” Dimitri stated.

  “We will. I’ll send the name to Emma. She and her team will search for him. You need to get your mind off of this,” he promised.

  He laughed.

  “How?”

  “We need to find Harold Cline and have a talk. We know Harold works at night for Lipton. He’s likely home. Technically, he’s a pimp, picking up girls for his asshole boss.”

  “YES, here in my business. We have to shut Lipton down. This is an insult to me as a man, and as a business owner.”

  He was aware.

  “Well, let’s go talk to Harold. You can beat on him if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “I can handle that,” Nikita offered. “I had fun.”

  They were not letting her have ‘fun’. She’d had enough enjoyment for the day.

  Greyson shut that one down.

  “Yeah, not you. How do you pull your dick out around her?” Greyson asked Heath. “She just popped a man’s ball. That’s all kinds of wrong. He’s going to have to have it removed.”

  He grinned.

  “She pets me gently. She can fondle my…”

  “STOP.”

  Heath grinned and winked at the woman. What was going through his head was just that. He wanted her hands on his body, and he wanted to figure out a way to keep her in his bed.

  “In my defense, you asked.”

  Yes, yes, he did.

  Now he’d pay for it.

  That picture was in his head.

  Likely all day.

  And it was all his fault.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Sky Villa

  Wednesday Afternoon

  Emma was resting on the couch, and the other two ladies were still doing research on anything they could find on Lipton or Jeffrey Raye.

  When Emma’s phone chimed, Chris grabbed it so it wouldn’t wake her up. She was tired from not sleeping well at night. A moving baby was not easy to ignore.

  He read the text.

  ‘My sweet Emma. Can you search for a Tommy Shepherd? He’s a white man, mid-thirties, and likes to pimp women out of Dimitri’s club. I’d appreciate it. Give me a kiss.’

  Chris knew that it had to be ugly when Dimitri found that out. He knew the man, and while he’d hired hookers, he’d gotten almost all of them out.

  He had limits.

  Someone using his club to pimp women out would make him batshit insane.

  As in homicide.

  As he stared at the message, he figured why not? He replied to it.

  ‘I can, my sexy Greyson. You make me crazy.’

  He typed back, having fun. If he couldn’t have some amusement at Greyson’s expense, what could he have? It was pretty slow and boring being trapped inside. He couldn't wait until Emma was not pregnant, and they were out working cases.

  This was for the birds.

  When it chimed again, he grinned.

  ‘Maybe your mouth can show me later. I’m definitely up for it.’

  He was snickering up a storm—so much so, that Poppy and Delilah glanced over.

  Chris knew what they were thinking.

  “I know, I shouldn’t be,” he stated, “but it’s fun. I love tormenting Greyson.”

  He did.

  And Dimitri.

  Call him a masochist but riling them up was part of his only amusement.

  He typed up the last message, giving it away as to who Greyson was talking to—and it wasn’t his kitten.

  ‘Chris can watch.’

  When he hit send, he was laughing so hard. Emma was going to kick his ass.

  He knew it, but still…

  The reply came, and the game was up.

  ‘You’re dead, Chris.’

  Yeah, he figured as much.

  All work and no fun made Chris a dull boy. Now that it was over, it was time to earn his spot on the team. Picking up Emma’s tablet, he began working. He was searching for anything he could find.

  Only, he couldn’t locate anything, and that was odd.

  The nearest Tommy Shepherd was five hundred miles away, and nowhere near them. There were none whatsoever in the limits of Vegas.

  Tommy Shepherd, the man they were seeking, didn’t seem to exist.

&nb
sp; Pulling out his phone, he called Greyson to update him with the information. Before he could even say a word, Greyson was ready for him.

  “When I get home, Chris, I’m going to punch you in the face,” Greyson stated. “While I like being dick teased, I do not like when you do it.”

  Chris laughed.

  He could hear the humor in his voice. Chris knew Greyson wouldn’t actually do it. Friends harassed friends. It was the bro code at its finest.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

  “Where is my wife, and why are you jacking with her private phone?”

  Chris glanced over.

  She was cuddled up in a blanket, sound asleep.

  “She’s out cold. The baby apparently sleeps all day and is moving around all-night. She’s passed out beside me.”

  Greyson softened.

  “Well, since you’re taking care of her, I’ll forgive you this time.”

  He was amused.

  “Darn. No blowjob from me later.”

  Delilah was laughing.

  Greyson not so much. The picture turned him right off.

  “What do you want, Chris? Bored? I’m a little busy trying to keep Dimitri from killing people.”

  Oh, he bet.

  Greyson told him everything.

  There was no doubt that it was a full-time job. Dimitri pissed off was not a good thing. Dimitri pissed off and gunning for someone…

  Lethal.

  “Well, I have good and bad news.”

  “Oh, Jesus. I hate this. Why do people have to open with that? It’s never really all good or bad. It’s generally shades of shitty.”

  He was aware.

  So, Chris didn’t hold back.

  “The good news is your search is done. The bad news is that the name you gave me is bogus. He doesn’t exist.”

  Greyson knew the women at the club wouldn't be lying. If they all said ‘Tommy Shepherd’, they meant it.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Well, yeah. The nearest Tommy Shepherd is five hundred miles outside Vegas. He’s not commuting ten hours each way to pimp out mermaids. It’s bogus. I was a cop in my last life. I’ve worked the streets and homicide. This is kinda my thing.”

  Well, shit.

  “I have an issue.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Why would Zachary Lipton pickup girls from that dive motel, using cash and not wanting Harold to be seen, but still come to Neptune to get blowjobs from mermaids? Something isn’t adding up. Then toss in that he was picking up a college co-ed from school? What are we missing?”

  Chris wasn’t sure.

  “Maybe he really has a sex addiction or a fetish?”

  He wasn’t buying it either.

  “No, something has to be going on.”

  Chris was aware. When investigating, if something didn’t add up, there was a reason. They were missing something.

  But what?

  “Maybe he kills the women he picks up there and doesn’t kill mermaids. Maybe he needs sex, and he needs murder to get off at different times?”

  Well, that was a question that they couldn’t answer unless they asked Lipton himself.

  WHICH might be a good idea.

  “Okay, well, keep searching. Take care of my wife, okay?” he asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “There were cupcakes, weren’t there?” he asked, catching him off guard, knowing Chris didn't lie.

  EVER.

  “Oh, my, look at the time.”

  He hung up.

  FAST.

  He had a search to run.

  On a non-existent man who may or may not be involved in their case.

  Yeah, awesome.

  This should be fun.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Riley had been crazy busy that morning. After dropping Delilah off at the Crofts, he had to get to work, pickup his partner, and then head to a scene.

  It was one hell of a gruesome scene too.

  When he and his partner, Detective Virgil Christian, arrived, the local police had the scene locked down.

  Where was the body left?

  In a bag, and in the middle of a damn street. Someone had driven by, shoved it out a door, and kept going.

  Well, that was clear that they wanted it found, and that they were insane. Who did shit like this?

  With the other bodies, he’d had to seek them out. He’d had to come across them when people accidentally found them.

  In the woods.

  In the water.

  This…this was ballsy.

  So, before even looking at the body, he’d gone to get the video footage of anything local cameras might have picked up. They needed something, and he wanted to be able to pass it off to Greyson.

  He knew the two bags were tied to Greyson’s case, but this third bag? Who would it be?

  Greyson and his team had given him a lucky break, by figuring out that it had been Candice French, but he didn’t think he’d get that lucky the second time.

  They now had multiple victims, one from MONTHS ago, and one from the street. There were no ties to the time frame, and it looked random. With only one ID, they were still going nowhere fast.

  All he did know was that this bag matched the other two, and they were all purchased from a surplus army store across the strip.

  So, basically, he had nothing.

  As he played the discs on his laptop, he noticed it was a nondescript vehicle.

  A black Lincoln.

  Well, that didn’t help.

  He couldn’t read the tags since they were covered with something.

  The windows were tinted too.

  This was going to be one hell of a dead end for them, and he knew it. If they could ID the vehicle, he didn’t doubt it was stolen, or it was now at the bottom of some water-filled ravine.

  This was a waste of time.

  Closing up his laptop, Riley headed to where the cops had blocked off the street and erected barriers so no one could peep at the body.

  No one deserved to be gawked at.

  No one.

  Death was bad enough, and to be dumped like garbage was horrible. The victim needed some dignity in these last moments, and he’d make sure she got them.

  As he ducked under a sheet that they’d hung to block the media’s cameras, he saw the bag.

  It was oozing.

  “Jesus.”

  “It looks like we have one who was frozen,” stated Virgil from his position on his knees beside it.

  Yeah, she was dripping like she’d thawed. Someone had pulled her out of the deep freeze to unload her.

  But why now?

  Why here?

  They had the bag unzipped, and Riley could see inside the bag. Again, she was cut into the same size pieces. It was the work of their same maniac.

  He was sure of it.

  Well, Greyson was about to get more fun to handle. Since he’d solved one ID, he could work on this one too.

  “Anything new?” he asked their ME. The man shook his head.

  “No, her fingers are gone, and so are patches of her skin. I’ll try to find something once I take her out, but I can tell you this is likely your same killer.”

  He wasn’t shocked.

  “She’s packed the same way. It’s methodical. Someone is a nut job.”

  Yeah, he was aware.

  Lucky Vegas.

  They had a serial killer who could pack a bag like no one’s business.

  “She’s not a new kill, is she?” he asked.

  The ME shook his head.

  “No, she’s got freezer burn. Our killer ended her and then put her away for safe keeping. It looks like he took her out frozen, and she’s just been dumped here to thaw out.”

  What was the killer doing?

  Screwing with them?

  Leaving a message?

  Riley had no idea.

  Yeah, only in Vegas—the home of the sickos.

  “Anything in her mouth? Anything not
supposed to be there that is?” Riley asked hopefully.

  The ME checked around and found her tongue movable. It had defrosted. When he lifted it up, he noticed something there. It wasn’t an object.

  “Light,” he called, and a tech was there with one to help the ME out.

  They shined it into her mouth, and he saw it.

  “There’s a tattoo under her tongue.”

  “What?” Riley asked. “Our killer hasn’t missed one yet. He dropped the ball on this one.”

  “He took her piercing,” Virgil stated, pointing to the hole in her tongue. “It looks like he ripped it out, but he didn’t look UNDER her tongue.”

  “What is it?” Virgil asked.

  “It’s a kitty.”

  “Clever,” Riley stated. “And a testament to the next generation of kids.”

  Yeah, he was aware.

  A likely hooker with a pussycat on the underside of her tongue. Yeah, that was…something—as in it might pull a name up in the database.

  He might not need the Crofts on this one. He might be able to give this girl a legit toe tag and not a Jane Doe.

  He pulled out his phone.

  The Las Vegas police had a database of known felons and arrestees who had tats. He could hope.

  He typed in tongue and cat.

  It popped.

  “We have a known hooker who has that same tattoo,” he said, turning his phone around so he could show the ME. “It also looks like she had a piercing in her tongue.”

  Yeah…

  Until it was ripped out.

  “We have a likely match,” the ME stated. “Do we have a missing person?”

  Riley searched using her name.

  It, too, came up.

  “We have Susie Clark. She was reported missing eighteen months ago—almost. She is a brunette with blue eyes.”

  “Well, her eyes are frozen solid, and the color leeched, but I can tell you that they were a light color and not dark. When she thaws out, I can tell you more. I can’t see her hair. It’s tucked into the block of the body.”

  Yuck.

  Gross.