Steele belonged.
As he approached, he motioned for the techs and lab staff to leave. All it took was one hand gesture and they were gone.
“Hey!” Steele said, glancing up at the sound of scurrying feet. “What a surprise! You’re early for coffee or am I late?” he asked, looking at his watch. “I was so focused on work that I get lost in it sometimes.”
Grey patted him on the shoulder. “We need to talk. Can you head into your office for a few minutes?”
Steele felt that wave of nausea.
“Oh, God! Is Dante hurt? Emma? Did something happen to them?”
Greyson dropped his arm over the man’s shoulders in reassurance. “No, Steele, they’re all fine. Emma is at work, Dimitri is watching her from a distance, and Dante is in the hotel casino office doing his money thing. I just spoke to him about the wedding. Our family is safe.”
He let out a sigh.
Then it hit him.
“Wait! Are you firing me?”
Greyson shook his head as he led him into the office. “No, you’re an asset to this team. That’s never going to happen, but we need to talk—in private.”
Those last two words scared him.
He was a nervous wreck.
Greyson pointed at the couch in there, and immediately, Steele sat.
He took a seat across from him on the coffee table.
“Is it bad news?”
“I’m afraid it is.”
“Then just say it. I’d rather get it over with than have you sugar coat it. I think I’m going to be sick.”
When Greyson placed his hand on the man’s knee, Steele’s eyes went wide.
This was going to be worse than bad.
It was going to suck.
Greyson Croft didn’t do touch-y feel-y with anyone but Emma.
Steele braced for it.
“A while back, Emma pulled that case with the bodies in the desert, remember? It was when Brynn was still alive. It was one of the last few cases you two worked together.”
He relaxed. It must be work related.
“Yeah, there was the skeleton under the dead victims, right?” he asked. “We got the two-fer in victims.”
“Yes, that’s the one.”
“What about it? Do you need my help with it? I only had it in the LVPD morgue for a few minutes until the FBI stole it away.”
“Yeah, about that, Steele, we’ve been working on identifying the skeleton, and we’ve managed to do it.”
He was staring at him.
Greyson hated this.
The man before him was important to his family, and he hated wounding him like this.
“Who is it?”
Like Steele said, it was best just to say it.
“Rutherford Bentley.”
He gasped.
“What? Wait! What?”
“The remains are your father, Steele. It’s taken all this time since there was no viable DNA after all these years. We had to rely on facial recognition to give him a name. It pulled against his missing person report.”
Steele just sat there with his mouth wide open.
“Son, are you okay?”
Tears filled his eyes.
He furiously wiped at them.
“I never thought this day would come, and I didn't think I’d ever cry over him. He was a miserable bastard, and I haven’t missed him, but now…”
Croft got it.
It was still his father.
No one was that hard and cold—especially Steele Bentley. He was a good man.
“I understand, Steele, he was still your dad no matter what his sins. It’s okay to mourn him even when you didn’t like him.”
The tears began falling despite him wanting to keep them in and hidden. Crying was a sign of weakness. Wasn’t that what his father always told him?
He’d called him weak almost every day of his life.
And fag.
And disappointment.
Still, he hurt over the truth. The man who helped make him was gone.
Greyson stood and tugged the man to his feet. Immediately, he opened his arms and pulled his brother-in-law to be into his embrace.
“It’s okay, Steele. You can feel. I’ve got you, and I’ll hold you up.”
The man wept.
The entire time, Greyson held him up, patting him on the back to give him some comfort. He knew there wasn’t anything he could do to stop the pain, but he’d try. Since his brother loved this man, he did too. He’d protect him when he was weak.
“I’m sorry that I’m a mess. I got your suit jacket all wet,” he said, trying to pull away.
Greyson wouldn’t let him.
“It’s only a jacket, Steele. You matter more. I love you, and I’m going to protect you.”
He hugged him again.
Steele knew how lucky he truly was. He’d fallen into an amazing family.
“Now I know why your brother loves you so much, Greyson,” Steele said. “You give really great hugs. Want to go for a kiss too?” he teased.
Croft laughed, staring him in the eyes—gray met green ones. “He loves me because I used to let him borrow my car to pick up hot men.”
Steele laughed, trying to pull himself back together again. “Thank you for that, Grey.”
He kissed him on the forehead. “There’s your kiss. Now you can mark it off your bucket list. That’s as good as it gets. Married men can’t kiss anyone but their wives. It will get me killed.”
Steele appreciated him trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m going to find who killed your father.”
His eyes went wide.
“Yes, we both know it was Marianna, and I’m going to make him pay.”
“I wish you really wouldn’t,” he said. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. Marianna will love having you play this game, Grey. Let it go.”
He couldn’t.
He wouldn’t.
This was his one way to nail the man.
“I’m going to do this and get you justice. I just need to sit down with you and get every ounce of information you can share about your father.”
“We might have to talk to my mother. She knows more than I do. I was young. I couldn’t have been more than twelve when he went missing.”
He was good with that. “It’s about time the families met. We can make this official on both counts.”
Greyson went to move away.
“Wait. I need something.”
“Anything. Just ask.”
“I want to see him, but I don’t think I can do it alone. Can you go with me?”
He dropped his arm over Steele’s shoulders. “I can do that for you.”
He led him toward the doors. Once out in the hall, they entered the room where the long-term remains were kept. Max was in there doing the paperwork attached to the case.
“Doctor Bentley, I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you for working so hard on this, Max. I know it couldn’t have been easy. Do you think I can see him?”
Max pulled the drawer open, and then backed out of the room to give them some time.
As they approached, Greyson remained by his side, holding him up.
“Well, Dad, I guess we know you got into some deep shit. I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not.”
Steele reached out and touched the femur.
“I will help find who killed you, Dad, but I wanted you to know that I was fine without you. In fact, I was better when you were gone. There was no one to knock me around, call me fag, or hurt me.”
Greyson hated the man for what he did.
“I found someone I love. He’s a good man. I’m glad you can’t meet him. You’d make his life hell, and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. I don’t want to be angry with you, but I am. Still, I hope you didn’t suffer.”
Greyson patted Steele on the back. “We’ll get him justice, son. I promise.”
Steele pushed the drawer in, and then turned. �
��I need to go home. I can’t…”
He understood.
“Come here.”
Steele needed another hug.
When he was strong enough to stand on his own, he pulled away. He needed to say something.
He needed Greyson to hear what he wanted to say.
“Don’t get hurt trying to get him justice. It’s not worth it. If anything happened to you, or Emma, I wouldn’t forgive myself. He isn’t worth dying over—trust me.”
He could see that wasn’t the truth.
Steele, the wounded son, still loved the dead man, despite the hell he’d put him through.
“I’ll call Dante to come pick you up. He’ll drive you home, and you two can hang out at Terrace Glen until you feel better.”
“Tomorrow, I’ll do what I can to tell you all about him. I’ll be better by then. I just need Dante for a little while. I really need to be away from everyone until I can get my bearings. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me, Steele. Family doesn’t need you to do that. We understand.”
Croft pulled out his phone and made the call. When he hung up, he personally escorted the man from the morgue, up the stairs, and to the door to wait for his ride. All the while, his phone kept ringing, and he ignored it.
The commissioner could wait.
He’d missed his meeting, but this mattered more.
Family came first.
Always.
* * * Croft & Croft * * *
LVPD Precinct
Captain Ford’s
Office
When she finally made it back to her desk, what she really wanted was something cold to drink. All morning, they had been playing in the dirt, removing trees, sweating their asses off, and all in the attempts to free the victim.
She needed a break and to call Dimitri to give him the news. While she knew he was following her around, making sure she was safe, she didn't know how close he was.
Hell!
For all she knew, he could be dressed like a homeless guy sitting in holding. The man was really good at his job.
Just as she stood, that wave of awareness overtook her.
She could feel him staring at her.
When Emma looked over, she knew her dream of something cool had gone out the window.
There stood her large, imposing boss, and he was pointing at her.
Crap.
Here it came. As she headed his way, Christopher Ford’s large body blocked the entryway, and he had that telltale look on his face.
Well, shit.
What were the chances?
He was going to want an update.
“Croft! You and your partner get in here. We have some things to discuss!”
Shit!
Shit!
Shit!
Had he figured it out?
Did she let something slip?
Normally, Chris Ford let her drive the bus, but all of the sudden he picked this day to stick his fingers in the pie.
That didn't bode well at all.
She was a screwed.
“You too, Mace,” he stated, heading into his office. As soon as he was done, Emma glanced over at her partner. “Did you rat me out?” she asked.
“How? We’ve been together for the whole morning, and we both sat down two minutes ago. Besides, I promised you I wouldn’t.” Then he gave her the look. “You should know I wouldn’t play you like that, Emma.”
“I know. I’m paranoid,” she whispered.
This was going to be bad.
She could feel it.
Apparently, Mace didn't cue the boss man in, so…
Inside the office, they found Chris Ford behind the desk. As Captain, it was quite often he was in uniform, just getting in from a meeting or press conference.
Now was one of those times.
He was still wearing his dress blues, awards, citations, and medals pinned to his large chest.
“Sit,” he said, running his hands through his brown hair to straighten it after removing his hat.
Then he stared right at her with those brown eyes. They were intelligent and all knowing. He’d been boss long enough to know if she even tried to lie. Around the corners were the crinkles he got when he was studying his prey.
She’d seen it so many times when he was ready to drop kick some detective for trying to bullshit him. Chris Ford was tough, and he ran his squad like it was a military boot camp.
Crap!
She was dead in the water on this one.
Emma could feel it.
Before he even began speaking, she had the urge to start stammering.
“I hear you picked up a new case this morning,” he said, staring right into her eyes.
She fought the desire to look away. In her head, she kept saying, ‘he’s like my brother’, over and over again as she prayed for a miracle.
Staying cool would keep their—her—ass out of the sling.
The good thing about Christopher Ford was he was astute. The bad thing…he was astute. That blade was a double-edged sword that could cut you both ways.
The man saw through just about everything.
Most of his job involved heading off the press and babysitting a bunch of grown toddlers with guns.
He had to be quick.
“Yes, we did.”
“How about you give me some details? I personally didn't assign it to you, and it’s not like two of my detectives to pick up side work on top of their busy caseload. Unless this is the end of the world, as we know it, my detectives don’t ask for extra work. What’s going on?”
Shit!
She didn't think he’d go there already!
Emma knew the worst thing would be to lie to the man, so she had to go in with nothing but the absolute truth, peppered with some falsehoods carefully hidden throughout.
“An anonymous tip came in to my phone line, and we headed out to see if it was real or bogus.”
Emma tried to keep it short and to the point.
He stared at her.
“And?”
“We found a body in a shallow grave out by Route ninety-five. It wasn’t bogus.”
“I see.”
Emma was praying that Mace would jump in and save her, but he was keeping his mouth shut. She didn't blame him. This plan was about to fall apart. It was fraying at the seams. When she came up with it, she never factored in Chris being on her trail out of the gate.
Emma thought she had time.
Boy was she wrong.
She could tell by the way her boss was staring at her that this shark had detected chum in the water. He was going to go in for the kill. It was only a matter of time.
She swore he didn’t even blink.
Chris Ford could stare through steel and make it melt. He was that intimidating.
Shit!
Shit!
Shit!
“Tell me about the body.”
Emma braced herself, but before she could say anything, Mace jumped in. This was the safe part, and he knew it.
Damn him!
So much for him taking one for the team.
“When the techs extricated the body, they found that there was one bullet to the head, and the arms and ankles were bound with some sort of tape. It’s likely duct tape, since it had to survive this long.”
He lifted a brow.
That piqued his attention.
Damn it!
Emma was screwed.
“How old is the body?”
“Well, the ME thinks it’s over fifteen years—maybe twenty,” Emma offered. “It’s going to be a challenge.”
She was pretty sure she was rambling.
He stared at her.
“We closed our last case, and the file is on your desk,” she offered, trying to set him up for what was coming.
Why couldn’t she just shut up?
“Let me get this straight. You want a challenge, you took on extra work, and you aren’t begging me to yank this two decade old cold case o
ff your desk?”
Shit!
“Um…”
He stared right at her, not even batting an eyelash.
“Detective Bristol, take a hike. Make sure you close my door when you leave,” he said, studying Emma.
Something was up.
He knew her damn well.
Hell!
He’d had her to his condo, they had meals together, and they were close.
She was yanking his chain.
Normally, Emma was easy going and laid back. She’d bust his ass, even though he was her boss. She’d stop in to tell him about a case before he could ask.
Yeah, something was up.
He could see that she was digging a hole. Now he just needed to see where it was heading to—China or Hell—neither of which he wanted to visit in this lifetime.
He narrowed his eyes.
She was struggling not to look away.
Yeah, that was wrong.
In all the time he’d worked with her the last year and a half, she was never this nervous. There was only one time, and it was when he’d met her husband. It had gotten ugly.
Now…she looked just as panicked.
Something was going on. He’d bet all the money in his wallet on it.
The kicker was when her partner ran like a rat on a sinking ship.
His detectives were predictable.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “You look worried, and normally you stroll in here, steal food off my desk, or drink out of my soda can. Now you’re silently sitting there, and you look like you want to be miles away from me. That’s off, so here we go. What did you do, Emma? How much trouble are you in?”
She chewed on her lower lip. When she opened her mouth, he held his hand up.
“Don’t bother lying. I know you.”
Crap!
“If you lie, I’m going to bust your chops, and that’s going to make it awkward when I come over to watch the game. Do us both a favor and go with honesty.”
“Are you asking as my friend or boss?”
He laughed. “Well, shit! If that’s the lead in, then I know I’m not going to like where this is heading.” He stood to slip out of his uniform jacket. As he was hanging it up, he glanced over his shoulder at her. Emma looked like she was struggling with something, and he hated that she didn’t simply come to him.
Justice is Dead (Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 7) Page 4