Lost Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 2)

by Morgan Kelley

  And Dimitri would get a family of his own.

  Randall Mason was really good at setting things up. Dimitri would have never seen any of this coming. Had anyone told him he’d be living with a bunch of do-gooder cops, he would have pissed himself laughing.

  Instead…

  He wasn’t just living with do-gooder cops, but in a way, he’d become the law.

  Yes, it was their rules, but they were cleaning up a city that once gave him carte blanche to kill.

  It was ironic.

  Wherever Randall was, he was enjoying one hell of a show—that was for damn sure.

  The Crofts had changed everything, and he didn’t mind in the least. Having family was worth it.

  Having ‘Aquarius’ was worth it too.

  This had become their meeting place, where they would have dinner as a family, and where they would meet their clients to discuss helping them.

  That was more than ironic too. Once a place the FBI wanted to get ears into to stop his illegal deeds, they now wanted inside to hear what they were planning when it came to saving the city.

  The law wanted Vegas to fall.

  Well, they couldn’t let that happen. They were hell bent on a mission to save the city—one person at a time—if that’s what it would take.

  The business cards circulating the city would bring the prospective people who needed help right to his doorstep, and they would take it from there.

  Lost souls.

  Murdered family members.

  Injustice by large companies.

  None of it was off-limits to the family.

  None of it.

  Every day, a few new people would come in, and every day, he’d weed through them to find the ones that would be potential cases.

  It was a process.

  Dimitri had to listen to a lot of injustice to find the ones that would work with their…talents.

  They couldn’t help everyone—no matter how much they wanted to. There were always going to be people who were desperate, had nowhere else to go, and needed someone to balance the scales of justice.

  They were the ones he picked.

  As he sat there, one of his waitresses wandered in, a mug in her hand.

  “Sir, your coffee.”

  “Is there something in it?” he asked, barely looking up at the woman.

  While she was pretty, he didn’t poach from inside his little corral of people.

  Anyone who worked for him was hands off.

  It was good business sense, and a lot of these women had been broken and damaged by someone. The last thing he wanted was to give them the wrong idea.

  Dimitri liked sex.

  That’s why he paid for it.

  Just last night, he’d called his favorite Madame, and she sent a girl to the hotel.

  Yes, he hired hookers.

  Yes, he fornicated, handed them money, and sent them on their way.

  Was he proud of it?

  No.

  Was it a necessity?

  Yes.

  Dimitri had needs, and the less attachment to the women who satisfied them, the better. Last night’s girl gave him one hell of a blowjob, rode his dick, and then went on her merry way.

  Dimitri had been home in two hours, and he didn’t have to explain anything to anyone.

  Well, Greyson knew.

  He always knew, and Dimitri suspected Emma did too. She had hugged him, told him she loved him, and that he should settle down.

  That was her way of being a mom.

  While it should have irritated him, it didn’t. Emma meant well, and it was nice to have someone who loved him enough to care. While he didn’t like hiring women, at least he didn’t hurt them.

  The sex was always safe, consensual, and well-compensated. His only rules were that they had to be old enough and that it was a one-shot deal.

  Dimitri didn’t frequent the woman more than once. Then they got attached, and that was the last thing he wanted.

  Here at the club, there were a few women he’d slept with, and he refused to go there again.

  A relationship was never going to happen.

  The last woman who even piqued his interest was Marissa, and she’d run for the hills.

  Dimitri still couldn’t find her.

  She’d simply disappeared.

  It was a mystery that bugged the shit out of him, and one day, he’d solve it.

  “Yes, sir, there’s whiskey in it like you requested.”

  He took the cup.

  “Yes?” he asked, glancing up at the young girl. Dimitri honestly hoped she wasn’t going to say she wanted to have sex with him. It made him uncomfortable. She couldn’t be more than nineteen, and she’d been working the streets.

  She was watching him.

  He knew why.

  She’d been one of the women who was sent to satisfy his needs, and he turned her down.

  She was a child.

  That, to him, was so vile, it made his stomach turn.

  “Sir, there’s a woman out front.”

  He sipped his coffee. “And, Patty?”

  “She said she needs to see you.”

  The girl dropped the business card onto the table. The second he saw it, he knew it was show time. “Show her back here, get her some coffee or tea, and I’ll handle it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and Patty?”

  She turned. “Yes, sir?”

  “You’re doing an excellent job. Thank you for working for me. You make the place special.”

  He told that to all his employees because it was true. Each one of them was a reminder that he was doing what he was supposed to do.

  Save the lost.

  She smiled brightly.

  It made him smile too.

  “Thank you, sir!”

  The young girl rushed out, and Dimitri leaned back in the leather booth to wait for his visitor. While he did, he stared at the piano, and wondered if he could lure Emma and Greyson there.

  Her playing soothed him.

  He couldn’t say it out loud because he was sure it would offend Croft, but it was true.

  Emma had that effect on him.

  After this meeting, he would be raw inside.

  He hated turning people away, and the last five business cards that came in weren’t worth their time. He wasn’t going to look for a man who wandered away with dementia.

  It wasn’t part of what they did.

  They had that specialized skill.

  They fought for the victims of Vegas.

  Their tears made him feel horrible, but he held up. If Emma would play for him, he might just have some peace.

  He made a mental note to send them a text to meet for dinner if this client fell through.

  As he heard footsteps, Dimitri ran his fingers through his black hair. It was getting long, and he was toying with the idea of cutting it off—like Greyson’s.

  It got in his way, but short hair reminded him of his father, his military career, and his past. That didn’t sit well with him, so he was shying away from hacking at it.

  With another sip from his mug, he waited.

  As the woman entered the room, his aqua eyes tracked her like prey. She was middle-aged, she had stress lines all over her face, and she looked worried.

  This one was carrying the weight of something on her shoulders. He could see it from where he sat. Dimitri was getting good at his job.

  “Have a seat,” Patty said, offering the woman a place at the booth across from her boss.

  “Thank you,” she said, staring at Dimitri.

  He didn’t speak.

  Instead, Dimitri waited until his employee had placed the coffee in front of her, and headed out of his private room. He didn’t discuss business in front of his employees.

  The less the world knew about what he did, the better for him and Greyson Croft. While he trusted his people, at times, they would get a disgruntled person who quit his business.

  The people he helped worked for
him at a higher pay rate, to get back on their feet. At one point, it was time to set them free, and that didn’t always sit well.

  He wasn’t a final destination.

  ‘Aquarius’ was about rehabilitation. You got help, you started the process of healing, and you were on your way.

  This woman looked antsy and really nervous. Most people who showed up did, but she really looked rattled.

  He offered her his hand in greeting. Hopefully, he could keep her from bolting.

  “I’m Dimitri Gideon, and I’d like to welcome you to ‘Aquarius’. How can I help you?”

  She stared down at the card.

  Then his hand.

  Then the coffee.

  “I’m scared.”

  Yeah, he got that a lot.

  “I don’t bite.”

  She stared up at him. “I’m sorry. I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Gideon. I’m terrified about what happened to my husband, and what’s going to happen to me and my family.”

  Okay, she was jumping right in, and he hoped this wouldn’t be a colossal waste of his time.

  They were busy.

  “Why don’t you start with your name, and we can go from there?” he asked.

  She flushed. “I’m so sorry. I’m a mess lately.”

  He waited patiently.

  If anything, Gideon was a man of deep patience. He’d raised two girls—all the while a boy himself. He knew that a woman and tears were synonymous.

  It was why he had tissues sitting on the table.

  “I’m Tiffany Harding, Mr. Gideon,” she said, finally accepting his hand. “I have a huge problem, and I need your help.”

  “What is it?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

  She sniffled and took a tissue. “I went to the police to report my husband missing over two weeks ago, and they’ve done nothing to help find him.”

  Okay, so this was going to be about a missing person. It helped him decide if it was even something they’d handle.

  So far, it sounded good.

  “Continue.”

  She did.

  “They said they can’t help me. I think it’s because of who he worked for,” she stated. “They are being biased and don’t want to look into his disappearance.”

  Okay, that piqued his interest.

  “Who does he work for?” he asked, using the present tense. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t want to set her off. She was finally focused.

  “I don’t know if you’ve heard of him, but his name is Tony Mays.”

  Dimitri wanted to laugh.

  Oh, he’d heard of him.

  He was very familiar with the man for one reason, and one reason alone.

  He was one of the villains in Vegas.

  Dimitri and Greyson had butted heads, as of late, with the man. He wanted to run the city, and Greyson already was doing the job.

  Tony Mays wasn’t qualified.

  Yes, he was an up and coming mob guy in Vegas, but he was small and new to the scene.

  He thought he could run the city and own it.

  Tony was basically a thug out there to make a buck by cracking skulls and kneecaps. There was no way they would even let him get his footing in THEIR city.

  In fact, he was nothing on their radar.

  Still, Dimitri was interested in hearing why this man’s name was popping up in his bar.

  Coincidence?

  He wasn’t sure.

  “What exactly did he do for Tony Mays? Was he hired muscle?”

  Tiffany looked horrified.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Well, he is the mob.”

  She shook her head. “No, he did his books. All I know was he helped keep Tony on track with his finances, but he wasn’t any kind of muscle. My husband was a smart man. He wouldn’t get involved in that kind of garbage.”

  Dimitri would have laughed if it wouldn’t have insulted the woman. If her husband was playing with Tony Mays, he was balancing books, playing ponies, and all kinds of shit she likely didn’t want to know about.

  He was already involved with garbage—the man himself, Tony, was trash.

  Already, he didn’t want to hear anymore.

  There was no way they were going to help a man who worked for a crooked bookie, wise guy, and scumbag.

  Yeah, no.

  This was not the kind of help they offered. Tony Mays was a shark, and if you went swimming with them, you were bound to get bit.

  Her husband had played the odds and lost.

  “Mrs. Harding…”

  She cut him off to continue explaining.

  “He didn’t come home for dinner, and he’s still missing. I’m about to lose my house. Where will me and my kids go?” she asked, sliding the picture across the table.

  He stared down at it.

  Shit!

  He was a sucker for kids.

  To make it even worse, there were four girls, and they all looked like angels.

  Oh, this woman played this one right. Dimitri must be wearing a sign that said ‘sucker for kids’.

  “They are beautiful children,” he stated. “I feel bad for them, but…”

  She wouldn’t let him say no.

  “Dalton took care of everything in our lives. I was just the mom. Now that he’s missing, and I have no income coming in, I tried to get his life insurance.”

  He knew that would be a dead end. Unless a body turned up, no insurance company would make a payout.

  “He’s got to be found or declared dead.”

  Oh, he was well aware.

  “Can you find him, Mr. Gideon? If you don’t, I’ll be on the street with my girls.”

  He hated being in that situation.

  He wanted to say no, but she was staring at him with big blue eyes and tears.

  Dimitri was bad with women who wept.

  “Please, Mr. Gideon. I went to the cops. I begged, but the new homicide captain sent me home. He laughed at me and told me that my husband got what he deserved.”

  Dimitri was thinking the same thing.

  “He told me they’d keep their ears open, but we all know what that means.”

  Yeah, he did.

  That was cop speak for screw you.

  “We live in a modest home. My husband was a good man. All he did was accounting. You could set a clock by him. I’m sick over all of this. What do I tell my kids?”

  Crap!

  Crap!

  Crap!

  He couldn’t believe he was going to say this, but he was going to break his own rules. He was going to help a man who was tangled up with the competition.

  This was going to open Hell on them, and he knew it.

  Greyson was going to think he’d lost his damn mind, but Dimitri was compelled to help—for those girls.

  “Tell your daughters that we’ll take the case.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Really?”

  God help him.

  “Really.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mr. Gideon.”

  “Don’t thank me.”

  Really, this was something he wanted to forget about, and he would, the day after they found the truth.

  “Mrs. Harding, in the meantime, I have a job here if you want it. The hours will be during school, so you should be okay with working. I’ll make sure you don’t lose your home.”

  She started crying.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Gideon,” she said, continuing to weep.

  Funny, that’s how he felt.

  Now he had to go home and tell his family they were taking a mob case because he was one hell of a sap.

  Great.

  They were going to ride his ass for the rest of his life.

  Chapter One

  Terrace Glen

  Thursday Afternoon

  H e felt alive. It was the first time, in a long time, that he really was enjoying his life in Las Vegas. He never thought that would happen.

  After turning in his badge, Chris Ford really believed his
life would be over. He could picture himself slipping into a state of depression and one hell of a funk. Being a cop was so ingrained into his life, that he didn’t think he could function without the daily workings of being the law.

  He’d loved his job.

  Now he loved not having it.

  Oh, the irony.

  He’d been worried until he moved into Terrace Glen and began working for Dimitri Gideon.

  It was like nothing he’d ever done before. If the surveillance, the following Emma around, and wearing pricey gear wasn’t completely out of character for him, the constant training at the gym was.

  While he wasn’t in horrible shape, riding a desk for eight years didn’t help out his physique.

  In order to be gainfully employed by Dimitri, since he had demanded gym time, working out was mandatory. In fact, all of the men met on a quiet day and did the rigorous routine to keep in shape.

  It started with running.

  Then it was weights.

  Then it was fighting.

  Greyson was more than willing to kick his ass around the room for shits and giggles, so he’d volunteered to be his training partner.

  At first, he was worried, but now he actually liked it.

  Chris was one sick man.

  Getting your ass handed to you every day had been motivation to pick up the pace and get in shape.

  And he had.

  Now he was fighting better than he ever had before. It was a good day for him when he wasn’t out of breath and lying on his back with others standing over him.

  In this case, the less humiliation, the better.

  As they stood in the pricey gym, Emma perched on a workout bench not far away from the action, Greyson was trying to take him to the mat.

  Every day, they had coffee, and then met to beat the hell out of each other. Dimitri had skipped out that morning, and Chris was glad.

  While he liked the man, he was more comfortable when he wasn’t around. It had nothing to do with getting beat to Hell and back, but that he felt guilty.

  Chris was pretty much always thinking about Natasha. While Dimitri couldn’t possibly know that, he couldn’t help it. Chris hated lying, and to say he wasn’t fantasizing about her would be just that.

  A.

  Big.

  Fat.

  Lie.

  So the less he was around, the better.

  At that moment, it was just the three of them in the gym, and Chris could focus. In fact, they were having fun with it, and it made the workout less monotonous.