Heaven is Weeping (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 5)

by Morgan Kelley

  Then, he heard it.

  There was sadistic laughter, followed by something that would chill his blood for the rest of his life.

  “Grey, hurry. Randall’s dead. I’m trapped with his killer,” came Emma’s whisper.

  Then, it went dead.

  He was out of his seat, along with his entire team. The charge from the room showed the urgency.

  “I’ll call for backup!” shouted Paris, knowing they had to go.

  Greyson raced through the police station, out the door, and to a parked Denali. He nearly plowed over reporters who were in his way.

  In his mind, he was on autopilot.

  He had to get to her.

  There could be no being late.

  His Emma had called, needing her husband, and he couldn’t fail.

  Once in the vehicle, he threw it in drive, barely allowing time for Brynn and Tessa to get in. Curtis buckled in, and the Denali went screaming out of the parking lot, leaving shocked reporters and cops in its wake.

  On the street, Curtis tried to reassure him. “She’ll be okay, Grey. Hang in there.”

  He didn't want to think of the other option.

  Emma had to be safe.

  If anything happened to her, he was screwed. Emma Croft was the only reason he woke up in the morning. Without his wife, there would be a cavernous hole in his chest.

  Croft ignored the reassuring words, making sure to focus on the drive.

  Behind him, as he drove past the FBI building, more Denalis joined the race.

  Croft couldn’t think or breathe.

  He was too worked up.

  What he wanted was to reach his wife.

  Fast.

  Now.

  And before it was too late.

  Emma worked her way through the shadows of the house. With each light switch, she checked to see if it would illuminate the darkness.

  It didn't.

  He’d cut the main power.

  As she made her way to the kitchen to find a weapon, Emma prayed her husband would hurry.

  Behind her, she could hear the man taunting and teasing her. He wanted to break her.

  Well, Emma had news for him.

  She was stronger than that.

  Once in the kitchen, she grabbed a knife from the butcher block, and nearly tripped over the body. She slid in the puddle of blood, falling to the floor. The smell made her want to puke.

  It reminded her of her past.

  Now, there was blood on her hands.

  She saw her dead brother.

  Emma needed to get out of there.

  Slipping into a small corridor, she knew it led to the ballroom. The hired help used it to bring drinks and food to the partiers the other night.

  She remembered seeing it, and now it was going to be her escape route.

  Maybe.

  When Emma raced into the room, he was waiting for her. Only, she didn't panic. She fought. Ramming into his body, she managed to knock his gun free.

  Unfortunately, there went the knife too.

  When he fell, she turned and raced back out of that room, and toward the dining area.

  Damn!

  She wished Randall had more hiding places. Each room was sparsely filled with furniture.

  “Nice hit, Emma. Maybe I underestimated you,” he called.

  She tucked herself into a corner, praying he wouldn’t see her. When she spotted a ceramic tray, she grabbed it. She was going to have to fight him old school.

  All she hoped was that he had lost his gun, or she was dead.

  When he passed her hiding spot, she saw him.

  For the first time, he’d come into clear view of a beam of light from a window. It was barely there, but it gave her enough.

  She’d definitely seen him before.

  What he didn't expect was that she’d recognize his face. He’d blended in, but she was a cop. It was her job to recall things like this.

  “I can hear you,” he said, turning.

  Her breathing had given her away.

  When he faced her hiding spot, she prepared herself.

  “Now you die.”

  With all her strength, she swung the tray up, dislodging the knife from his hand. It flew out of his fingers and skittered across the floor.

  He roared in anger, charging her.

  Emma sidestepped him, going for the knife. When he followed, she knew it was going to be a painful fight.

  Landing on top of her, they were both shy of the knife. When he got her pinned beneath him, he hissed in her ear. “I don’t like this game.”

  Well, she wasn’t a fan either.

  Emma struggled.

  He hit her with his fist. It connected with her face, stunning Emma.

  She knew what she needed to do. Instead of fighting, she went limp. As he tore into her clothes, Emma flashed back to the night at her brother’s place.

  She saw his eyes.

  Heard his voice.

  It said one thing.

  FIGHT!

  Emma bucked, and he flew off her body. Rolling to her feet, she grabbed the knife and prepared to do battle.

  As he charged, it all came down to that one moment.

  Might versus right.

  As they crashed to the floor, the scent filled the room as did the silence.

  There was blood.

  And lots of it….

  ~ Chapter Fourteen ~

  It seemed to take forever to arrive at the house, when in actuality, it was mere minutes. Driving the Denali through the front gate, he broke it open. He’d explain later what happened to the bosses, or pay for the repairs himself.

  Either way, it didn't matter.

  Only Emma did.

  As he drove up the driveway, he saw her.

  His heart began beating once more, until he got closer.

  She was covered in blood.

  “Oh God,” he muttered, jumping from the vehicle to reach her side. When he approached, Greyson noticed she looked pale. “Are you hurt?” he asked, finally able to speak again.

  Emma couldn’t say a word.

  All the fear and emotions were trapped in her body as she struggled to get them all out.

  “”Baby, are you hurt?” he asked, taking in her appearance. Emma’s lip was viciously cut open, her dress was destroyed, and she looked ready to go into shock.

  Immediately, he pulled her against his body. He didn't care about the blood and gore. He was only worried about her.

  Emma was his priority.

  “He killed Randall,” she whispered into his shirt. “When I got here…I was too late.”

  His heart skipped. Greyson waved his people in, and they rushed past him. Picking her up in his arms, Croft carried her to the pool patio, where he could hold her in his arms.

  “It’s okay, Emma. I’m here now. Tell me what happened.” Sitting her down, he took off his suit jacket and placed it around her body to keep her from shaking. Then, he pulled her back into his lap to hold her tight.

  She tried to think back, but all she wanted was to cry. Struggling to hold on, she let the cop part of her lead the way. “I arrived and went looking for him. The man killed him. His throat was slit when I got here.”

  He was horrified.

  “Then, when he was trying to find me, I saw the man in the kitchen. He was dead too.”

  He ran his hands up and down her back until she stopped shaking.

  “He had a gun, but I managed to disarm him. Then, I killed him.”

  Croft hated this story. “What else?”

  “I saw him.”

  From the office doors, which led out to the patio, Curtis popped his head out. He held out his fingers, indicating three dead people.

  When he saw how rattled his boss looked, he came out on the patio. “Mom, are you going to be okay?” he asked, touching her on the shoulder.

  Emma flinched.

  “I saw him,” she stated.

  “I need to know who he is,” Greyson demanded, suspecting that this
was going to lead back to Marianna.

  “I know him,” she said, catching them both off guard. “I know who tried to kill me.”

  That had their attention, even as the ambulance arrived in the driveway.

  “How?” Croft asked.

  “I saw him the night of Randall’s party. He was here.”

  Curtis didn't have any ID on the man’s body. It wasn’t like he was surprised, since he was going to be killing someone, who needed a driver’s license?

  “Honey, who?” her husband asked.

  “He was Lana Dumas’s driver. When we arrived, he was the one helping her out of her car.”

  Croft was confused. “So, Marianna sent him?”

  Emma shook her head. “He kept telling me that this would hurt you. All the time, he was taunting me. This was aimed at you. They killed Randall to weaken you.”

  That meant one thing.

  This was the corruptor’s handiwork, and it made total sense. They killed Randall and wanted to take out Emma, teaching Greyson a lesson.

  If Marianna wanted to cause mayhem, he wouldn’t hurt Emma. She was the prize. The killer would have gone after him instead.

  “We need to get over to Lana Dumas’s home. If she’s involved in this, we might be able to interrogate her.”

  What he wanted to do was kill the woman. If she was involved, she was dead. There would be no second chances, no talking her way out of it or bargaining for her life.

  It was plain and simple.

  She was dead.

  Croft knew the line would be crossed, since he would chase her to the deepest part of hell to avenge his woman.

  Brynn came out, holstering her gun. “The paramedics are here.”

  “I need you to ride with Emma to the hospital. I’m going to take care of a problem which just came up.

  Emma clung to him. “Hurt her for me. I know it’s wrong, but she deserves to pay.”

  It said it all.

  He was going to be out for blood.

  Croft waited until his wife was loaded up before he faced Curtis and Tess. “Can you run this scene?” he asked, directing it at Agent Brass. She was a good, strong agent, and knew how to do her job.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Curtis, we’re taking a ride after I get a good look at this bastard.”

  They headed inside, and that’s where he found him. The room was a mess, and there was blood everywhere. There was a knife protruding right from the man’s chest.

  Good for his Emma.

  She deserved a medal.

  “I recognize him too,” Croft stated. “Emma is right. I wouldn’t have placed his face, but she worked the streets in Philly. She’s damn good at faces.”

  Before Curtis could say anything else, there was a familiar voice.

  “What the hell happened?” Chris Ford asked.

  They both turned.

  “The person after me took a shot at my wife, and unfortunately, he got Randall.”

  Croft told him about a dead Mason, a staff worker, and the killer. “This has to be the person who was trying to destroy me. There was silence for too long. They were watching, waiting, and building up to this.”

  Ford was at a loss for words. “The media is going to go wild when they get this. Randall Mason held all the power in Vegas. Now, it’s going to be one big chaotic vacuum. The shit is about to hit the fan.”

  He was well aware. “We have to keep this under wraps until I can collect Lana Dumas. She’s going to lawyer up the second I stroll into her home.”

  “I’ll prepare the commissioner.”

  Croft got ready to go. It looked like it was going to just be him and Curtis, which was a good thing, because he trusted the man beside him to turn the other way when he killed the woman.

  “I’ll ride shotgun,” stated Ford. “You know, just in case.”

  Shit!

  There went that plan.

  There was no doubt what the man was referring to, because he was so close to the edge, it had to be clearly visible from his face. It looked like it was time for plan B. Croft was patient. His revenge could wait.

  “Suit yourself,” he stated, striding out.

  Greyson Croft had a score to settle.

  It wasn’t going to end well for Lana Dumas. He would make damn sure of it.

  * * *

  She sat behind the desk as her guest paced the floor. There was this nervous energy breaking around them as they waited for the news. There had to be a text soon, or tension would be breaking them both.

  “We’ll hear something,” Lana offered. “He’s likely finishing up the problem.”

  That wasn’t cutting it. “I paid him a great deal of money to handle Emma Croft and Randall Mason.”

  “He already took care of the old coot. I showed you the message. All I’m asking is that you give him the benefit of the doubt. He’s the best in the business.”

  And that didn't really matter.

  At this point, anyone would do if they could just bury the knife in Greyson Croft’s heart.

  “I don’t understand what’s taking so long,” Lana said, trying to remain calm.

  Her guest wasn’t happy.

  “I think I do.”

  Lana Dumas was getting nervous. No, make that scared shitless. She was staring into the face of madness, cold-hearted evil, and she knew it.

  “I think he failed.”

  “No, I know him…”

  “Tsk-tsk. You know what getting attached means. You’re sleeping with a killer, and a piss poor one at that. Granted, he managed to take out two people, but not the two I wanted.”

  She went to protest.

  “No, don’t. You failed. I was under the impression you were perfect at my side. Together we could bury that ridiculous Croft duo. Now, I see the error of my ways. Sleeping with the help was a big mistake, Lana.”

  She stood. “WAIT! I’m sorry!”

  It was too late.

  Already, the gun was pointing at her head.

  Lana Dumas knew she was in some serious shit.

  “We’re partners!”

  “WERE is the operative word here, Lana. You couldn’t deliver. In fact, you’re well past your usefulness for me.”

  “I left a trail! If you kill me, they’ll figure it out!” she hissed, hoping to buy herself some time. If she could, she’d grab what she could and escape.

  Tonight.

  Fast.

  Without hesitation.

  “Have a seat, Lana.”

  The tears came. There was no doubt in her mind what was going to be coming. After the last year, she wished she could go back and redo so much.

  There was no honor among thieves.

  Lana Dumas could see that now.

  Before she could say another thing, the pop and flash of pain had her attention.

  It was done.

  The trigger was pulled.

  It was the last sound Attorney Lana Dumas would ever hear.

  “You were a waste of time. I’ll handle the Crofts on my own, Lana. Now, I just need to lay low and work this out. At least Mason is gone. It’s the one good thing which came out of all of this.”

  With that, the killer made the escape into the night.

  There was no doubt of what was coming, and Croft was going to be pissed.

  Now, it was time to make a hasty retreat.

  While there was still a chance.

  * * *

  Twenty Minutes Later

  As they pulled up to the house, there were lights on, and it appeared someone was home. Christopher Ford was keeping a close eye on the man beside him.

  Greyson Croft was a man on the edge.

  It wasn’t as if he could blame him. If someone screwed with his loved ones, he’d be in a rage too. This killer was playing for keeps, making Vegas one hell of a mess.

  They now had three bodies, and with Randall Mason’s death, the city was going to erupt. Every penny ante criminal was going to try and rise to power.

  It wasn’t
going to be pretty.

  “I need to get in there,” stated Greyson Croft.

  “We can’t break and enter,” stated Captain Ford. “I don’t care how pissed you are, you can’t kick down the door.”

  Curtis called from the back of the house. “We have something suspicious. You need to see this.”

  The men headed around back, following the young agent. When they arrived, they found the back door to the pricey home wide open.

  “Oh no. I think Lana Dumas might be in danger. We should check on her,” stated Croft in a monotone voice. It was fraught with sarcasm.

  “I have your back,” Ford said, knowing that his detective was nearly gutted by someone. If her husband said it was instrumented by this woman, he wouldn’t doubt it.

  The shit pile was already deep enough.

  All three men pulled their weapons as they moved into the house to secure it. As they crept through the large home, they were hit with how hot it was.

  There were no air conditioners running and the scent of death lingered.

  “I told you. She needed our help.”

  Curtis flanked his side, watching his partner’s back. When they approached the office, he was the first to see it.

  “I’ll call the ME.”

  They had another body.

  It looked like Steele Bentley would be working overtime tonight. They were up to four victims.

  When Croft entered the room, he had confirmation enough. The scene looked exactly like Thomas Booker’s execution. Instead, this time, it was the blonde attorney’s head, which was a mess. The back of her skull was obliterated.

  “Does this look familiar to anyone else?”

  Ford holstered his gun before taking the pair of rubber gloves Curtis made materialize.

  “Yeah, it’s pretty familiar, only this time it’s not a man.”

  Croft watched as the police captain touched the deceased woman’s arm.

  “She’s still warm. This happened not too long ago. It looks like we just missed our killer.”

  “Damn it!” Croft blurted. He was pissed that he missed the opportunity to question the woman. She could have been his one link to finding who was behind this.

  This was his one lead.

  It was infuriating that the killer was one step ahead of him again. Just as they closed in on Tom Booker, he was killed, and now Lana Dumas.