“Are you over her? I need to know.”
“Yes. I am. I’m moving on. Why?”
“Good!”
With that, she crashed into his body, wrapping herself around him as her mouth plundered.
Curtis fell backward in shock, barely able to stay on his feet. As her mouth devoured his, he held on through the storm. Katerina was wild and crazy, and he’d never experienced anything like that before.
So.
This was what it was like to be pursued.
He loved it.
Slowly, he fell into the kiss. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth was making love to his, and he couldn’t think past that moment.
It was too hard. She was singlehandedly bringing his body back to life. Gone was the cold chill, and back was the heat.
God!
He’d missed feeling alive.
Thanks to her, he was returning to his old self.
Curtis knew there was something he was supposed to be worried about, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Instead, he let her lead.
The woman in his arms might have been smaller and younger, but she was filled with a tidal wave of passion. As the kiss never let up, Curtis found himself being pulled under, and he didn't mind in the least.
The emptiness, which had taken residence in his body, began filling with life. This woman was resuscitating his heart. Kiss by kiss, she was breathing life back into him.
It was a beautiful thing.
As her hands wandered beneath his shirt, stroking, touching, and taking ownership of his flesh, Curtis shuddered with hope. A chill raced across his body at the prospect of what he’d stumbled upon.
Happiness.
As she deepened the kiss, Curtis could only hold on. His hands found the back of her head, and he buried his hand in that very long, black ponytail.
He moaned in pleasure when her nails lightly scraped down his ribs.
“Anfisa,” he whispered.
That one uttered word caused her to stop dead in her tracks. It was like cold water had been thrown onto the moment. Immediately, she pulled away to stare into his eyes. The aqua sparkled in the dying sunlight, and it wasn’t from happiness.
Kat looked like she was about to cry.
“Why do you insist on calling me that?” she asked, her breathing labored. She felt like she’d run a marathon.
“Because that’s your name.”
“No, before it was my name. That’s not the case now. I’m Katerina. I was reborn.”
He ran his fingers across her cheek. “It’s still who you are, and it’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. It suits you, Flower.”
She blinked a few times, as if she was processing what he said.
Then she made her choice.
“I have to go.”
He stared at her. “I’m sorry. Don’t…,” he began, but it was too late.
Katerina had bolted and was gone.
Shit!
Curtis sat in the arbor and closed his eyes. What the hell was his issue? Why did he always make women run?
He had to be cursed.
That was the only explanation. As he was trying to rationalize his own stupidity, he heard someone approaching. A part of him hoped it was Katerina returning, even if it was to smack the stupid out of him.
When he realized it was Natasha, he sighed.
Great.
Another woman.
Only, it was the wrong one.
“What happened?” she asked, ducking into the arbor. “I came out to spy on you two, and it was a huge letdown. Talk about snooze.”
“Spying is wrong,” he said, trying to get mad, but he couldn’t. He screwed this up and wouldn’t take it out on her.
“What did you do to make her run? Katerina doesn’t bolt easily. She’s pretty sturdy.”
“I called her Anfisa, and she freaked out.”
Natasha sat beside him. “No one’s called her that for a very long time. Her father was the last man who said it. When Dimitri gave us our new lives, he washed the old away by renaming us. He didn’t want the past to haunt us.”
“It’s a beautiful name. It reminds me of her. She comes here to be among the flowers.”
Natasha grinned. “Oh, boy. You have it bad for her, don’t you?”
“I’m aware. Only, I suck at relationships. If I step into one, someone’s bound to get hurt. This is case in point. I don’t relate well to women. Either I’m too bossy, too idiotic, or oblivious to what I should do. I’m still learning. I’m a late bloomer.”
She patted him on the leg.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit. Do something romantic. I bet she comes around.”
He didn't know where to begin.
He wasn’t Greyson Croft. When it came to romance, his one attempt ended up getting him trapped in a marriage where they hated each other. Let’s face it. Casanova, he wasn’t.
“You said she likes the flowers, well…bring them to her. How did you ever get married?”
He laughed. “Tequila and bad judgment. I’m trying to avoid that this time around. I don’t need vodka and gunpoint.”
She grinned. “Good idea. Dimitri’s idea of a shotgun wedding is that he shoots the groom and his sisters stay single. It doesn’t end well for the man.”
“You’re really not helping me. I’m not ready to get married again. I plan on moving SLOWLY.”
Natasha understood.
“She moved all her things into her new room. It’s at the end of the hall from you. Why don’t you make a flower delivery?” she said, pointing up at the tons of roses that surrounded them in the arbor.
It smelled like…Katerina.
“Do you think that would work?” he asked. “Do I still stand a chance?”
Natasha winked. “What do you have to lose? The odds are in your favor, Curtis.”
Then, like her sister, she was gone.
Curtis sat there a few minutes, and he realized she was right. He hurt her, so he had to apologize. What said ‘I’m sorry’ better than flowers.
He got to work.
It was time to be a man.
Chapter Seven
There was no place like home. That phrase took on an even more important meaning when you had just found out that you were being hunted by some hired gun.
It wasn’t as if they were shocked.
They were digging up the skeletons in Dominic’s closet, so of course he was going to come at them. They knew it could be a possibility from the start.
Now that they were pulling back into Terrace Glen, and they were safe, everyone in the vehicle could relax. To get them there, Dominic would have to hire a sniper to take them out inside their home from the surrounding hills.
Even then, that wouldn’t be all that easy.
Croft had expected that and the glass in the windows would hold up under anything but a bomb. He liked to be prepared for cases like this. When you had precious possessions, like a sexy wife, you didn’t leave out any possible scenarios.
Greyson liked to be ready for anything.
As they headed toward the house, both men flanked Emma, using their bodies to offer her protection. She knew what they were doing and decided to toss them a bone. When you surrounded yourself with a pack of caveman alpha males, these things would happen.
Greyson was just being himself, and apparently, so was Dimitri.
Once inside, they began stripping out of their weapons and body armor.
“Home sweet home,” muttered Emma, leaning against the wall. “Who knew that this place would become synonymous with all things good in life?”
Greyson knew.
From the minute his wife said she wanted to stay there, he had the plan to make it their love nest. Everything he did was for her, and that included the renovations to Terrace Glen.
When he’d remodeled Randall’s old house, he wanted it to be their sanctuary. He just never pictured it this full of people they would call family.
At first, h
e actually believed the house would be too large for them. Now, he wished he had even more space. Greyson wondered if the media would talk if he made it bigger and reinforced the compound.
Yeah, probably.
As they headed into the family area, they found the people they loved waiting for them.
Tessa was sitting in Paris’s lap as he wheeled them around the room and toward the bar. Curtis was sitting on the couch, looking lost, Natasha was pulling her hair up as she prepared to head out for patrol, and their Chef was arguing with the housekeeper.
Yeah, this looked about right.
It was all the usual suspects.
“Where’s Chris?” Emma asked, glancing down at her watch.
Natasha answered, “He’s in route. He wouldn’t take an escort, Emma. You may want to kick his ass. I would have picked him up.”
Dimitri wanted to see if the Crofts were serious about them being family. He headed toward the bar and poured him and Greyson a bourbon.
“Emma, wine?” he asked.
“Yes, please, but I’ll have to take it in the kitchen. I’m going to make dinner.”
She headed past the bar and snagged her drink. As she left the room, everyone began following.
This was new to Dimitri, and when Greyson was waiting for him, he joined them.
“Where’s Katerina?” Dimitri asked. “She’s supposed to be hanging out here with everyone.” It wasn’t like his sister to ignore orders, or her duty.
That alarmed him.
Something was up.
“She needed a break. Babysitting this group is draining,” Curtis offered, covering for her. He’d already been up in her room and left her a surprise. He figured she was hiding out because of what he did.
Dimitri didn’t respond. He’d check on her later to see if she was okay.
Emma began banging pots and pans as the chef stared at her.
“You make a mess, mademoiselle, you clean it,” he said in his thick French accent.
“Yeah, I’m aware. Thank you for bossing me around in my own house. Why don’t you retire?”
“Oui. I should after being forced to watch you butcher the classics.”
Greyson stepped in.
“You should take the rest of the night off.”
Yeah, before Emma butchered him.
He took off. This wasn’t the first time they’d had a confrontation, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
“I meant for good!” she shouted after him.
Greyson laughed, taking a seat at the massive island. They’d had it redone to Emma’s specifications. The kitchen was the heart of the home, and she wanted it to be big enough to encompass their crew.
It was no longer cold and industrial.
The warm colors, the smooth stone, and the stools around the massive island made her happy.
And he liked when his kitten was purring.
Not hissing.
As she began cooking dinner, the alarm sounded. Dimitri headed to the monitor to see who was entering the property.
“An old beat up truck can only mean one thing. It’s your boss.”
Emma grinned.
“He really should ditch that thing, it’s a spectacle.”
Emma and Greyson knew that would never happen. Chris’s truck was part of him. It was the ONLY thing that he had after his divorce to Denise.
He wanted to be buried in it.
“I’m glad he got here safely,” Greyson stated.
Her too.
Now she could relax. The family was intact. “Since Chris wanted Italian, I won’t be cooking for three hours. This I don’t mind,” she stated, sautéing some garlic.
Greyson sipped his drink as Emma’s boss sauntered into the kitchen.
“Hey, honey, I’m home,” he teased, getting a look from Croft and a grin from Emma.
“How was work, dear?” she teased back.
“I will shoot you both,” Greyson stated, “and claim it was an accident.”
Dimitri laughed. “Now this sounds like a family meal that I’m accustomed to.”
Chris dropped into his seat and started pulling at his tie. “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want?” he asked, glancing over at Greyson.
“Good.”
“The media got wind of the two bodies. I don’t know how, but I’ve been fielding questions all day from reporters. They’re sniffing around and beginning to start with the ‘King and Queen’ crap again.”
They weren’t shocked.
As if on cue, Dimitri turned on the TV that was mounted high on the wall, so they could see for themselves.
Chris wasn’t yanking their chains.
BNN was running pictures of them, the crime scenes, and old interviews with the Crofts.
“Well, so it begins,” Emma stated. At least they were all safely tucked away. Then she realized something.
Someone was missing.
“Where’s Mace?”
“He pulled a case. We’re cutting it a little thin with the staff,” stated Chris. “He and Detective Spencer are working on something. He’s going to pop in when he clears up some of the work.”
Emma hoped he wasn’t wearing a bull’s-eye because of her. She hated when people paid for their notoriety.
Anyone she cared about was in danger. That included her partner, and they knew it.
“What’s the bad news then?” Greyson asked. “I can’t wait to hear it if this constitutes as good.”
“Well, the commissioner called, and he wants a personal meeting with you tomorrow.”
“Who?” they both said together.
He pointed at Emma, not Greyson, much to the man’s apparent surprise.
Emma continued cooking the sauce for their meal. “We’ll be seeing him at the party on Saturday. What does he want now?”
Greyson didn't like it at all. His wife was off limits, and if the commissioner was going to hit her up for money, or threaten her job…heads would roll.
“Why?” Emma asked.
“Between the two of us,” Chris said, looking around the room, “or the half-dozen of us,” he corrected, “I think it has something to do with the publicity tour on Sunday.”
Emma sighed.
“Hey, I hear you. I’m trapped doing it, and I’d rather be in boxers, on my couch, and eating cake.”
Greyson laughed. “Our couch, in jeans, and celebrating your birthday,” he corrected.
“Same thing,” he teased, and apparently, it was. He spent more time here than his own place. Not that he minded. At home, there was solitude.
Oh, and gay men trying to make him their date.
This was a FAR better option.
“Okay, well, I have to get out of that. I have better things to do than play with the citizens of Las Vegas. I don’t know…like maybe protecting them from Dominic Marianna?”
Everyone laughed.
They knew how impossible that was going to be. Ever since Chris stepped down as Commissioner, to take his position back in Homicide as captain, the new boss didn't take no for an answer.
They all knew it.
“Well, crap,” muttered Emma. “I guess I’m having some PR fun on Sunday.”
“In all fairness, most of the people coming to the open house-meet and greet are there to see you,” Chris stated. “You’re the headliner.”
“What’s next? Is he going to wheel a piano in and ask me to play show tunes?”
“Well, come to think of it…” Chris began, trying to rile her up.
Emma threw a dishtowel at him. “Shut up! If you even suggest that, I’m going to make your life hell!”
They all laughed.
“That place is going to be packed,” Paris said, sipping his beer while his wife wiggled in his lap.
Dimitri didn't like it.
“I don’t think you should do it. This is dangerous, Emma. I can’t keep you safe in a crowd of people.”
Chris raised his hand. “We’re going to be in the squad room, and there
will be other detectives there. She’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”
Greyson patted him on the back. “You ding up my ride, you die.”
She pointed at her husband. “You didn’t just degrade me to a piece of machinery, or was that sexual innuendo?”
He grinned. “The latter.”
“Oh, well, then carry on. Later, I’ll definitely ding up your ride.”
Curtis groaned. “Come on. In here too?”
“Mi casa es MI casa,” he stated. This was his house and he could sexually harass his wife all he wanted. It was one of the perks.
“Point taken,” Curtis stated.
Emma dropped the massive amount of pasta into the water and stirred it. “Since we’re talking about horrible inconveniences that make us angry but we still have to do them…”
The beer Chris was drinking stopped halfway to his mouth. “Uh oh. Why do I feel like that’s addressing me? What did you do, and how much paperwork am I going to have to do the next week to dig out from it?”
Greyson told him what Dimitri had found out. The man looked angry.
“I don’t like any of this. The idea of you two parading around wearing bull’s-eyes makes me ill.”
“Preaching to the choir,” Croft stated.
And this was why they liked the man a great deal. He was trust worthy, he was a good cop, and he loved them. Chris Ford was definitely family.
Emma figured it was best just to drop the bomb. “Oh, and, Chris, you’re moving in until this is over.”
“What?” he said. “I’m not moving in. I have a perfectly fine condo safely tucked away in Gay Man Valley.”
Croft snorted. “Luck you. I’m jealous.”
Chris pointed at him. “You picked it! Now because of her, I’m stuck there. I feel like my testosterone drops every time one of them asks me if I like your feather-filled shows and if I want to have a glass of wine.”
Emma was amused.
Chris was a man’s man. From the large frame, the big hands, and the old truck, he didn’t do luxury well. He liked his jeans, his beat up truck, and cold beer.
If he had those three things, it was his trifecta of happiness.
Still…
“Well, think of this as a way to get a vacation from the feathery finery. You’re moving in until this is over.”
“Emma, I’m not. I’m safe. Who the hell is going to go after me?”
Justice is Dead (Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 7) Page 18