She was next.
When she saw him at first there was that momentary look of fear, but then she noticed he was just getting his work out gear from his trunk.
“Have a good workout,” she stated, waving at him.
“Yeah! Thanks!”
When she turned to unlock her vehicle door, he knocked the keys from her hand and dropped his arm around her throat.
Then he squeezed the life from her.
Slowly, she kicked, scratched, and tried get him away from her, but it didn't work.
As she wiggled against him, he couldn’t help himself. He sniffed her.
She smelled like flowers, and that turned him on. As her breasts bounced, body flailed, and she fought him, he wanted her.
It was so wrong, but he was curious.
The second she passed out, he threw her prone body into the trunk. It was a short drive to the game lands, and maybe he could make it worth his time.
He’d been abstaining lately, but he couldn’t help but crave all the sin she was offering.
She was sexy, sleek, and he saw her face on countless billboards.
Well tonight, she’d be his.
The FBI would be none the wiser if he tasted the forbidden fruit. After all, she was flaunting herself to every Tom, Dick, and Harry.
What would it hurt?
Who would know?
It had been hell, abstaining from sex while being forced to watch them for long periods of time. He could almost feel the glisten of sweat on their soft skin.
The visuals were too much to handle. Of course they would break him.
He was weak.
It was all her fault.
They were just like her, and they had to pay.
This one would be no different, and he was okay with that.
It was hard not to wonder what the forbidden fruit tasted like, and tonight…
He’d find out.
* * * Croft & Croft * * *
He was worried when he made the call. The person who hired him wanted the job done, and he’d missed. It wasn’t an easy shot, and the two women had used their bodies as a shield.
It wasn’t his fault.
Okay, maybe he picked the wrong spot to do the job, but he honestly hoped that he’d still get paid. After all, he’d risked getting caught.
When he was approached, the money was too good to say no to, and he didn't want to piss anyone off.
Now he had to admit he failed.
Well, shit!
When his call was answered, he spilled his guts.
“It’s okay. They’re scattered and off balance, and that will make it easy for me. You did your job. Where are you?”
“Why?” he asked.
“Uh, you don’t want to get paid for the job? Really?”
“I didn't think I’d get the money.”
There was laughter. “Of course you will. Where can I meet you?”
“I have to dump the vehicle. Can you meet me in the desert?”
“I can. I’ll see you there in an hour.”
He hung up the phone and smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t go as bad as he thought. Yeah, he screwed up, but the boss didn't seem to mind. That was a good thing.
He broke down the gun and packed it away. He’d keep that little souvenir because he really liked it. The car…he could care less.
As he whistled and wiped down the vehicle, he wasn’t worried.
Only he should be.
He was a newbie, and in Vegas, the power players didn't like to leave any loose strings.
They all had to be cut.
* * * Croft & Croft * * *
Dinner was an unmitigated disaster.
The second Reggie began making comments about Emma not cooking for her man, she began giving him the evil eye. No matter how many times Emma smiled and let it go, Greyson could tell this was going to be bad.
His mother was on a tear, and at this rate, there’d be no survivors left.
Yes, he expected to bear the brunt of it.
Even Dante knew he wouldn’t escape unscathed.
But sweet, innocent Emma?
Okay, now he saw why she wanted to do all the cooking. Greyson, in his infinite wisdom, never anticipated this little mess. He actually thought his mother would be impressed that they had a French chef at their beck and call.
Not so much.
With each snide comment, Emma kicked him under the table. His shin was going to have a lot of bruises in the morning, just like Emma’s ego.
He owed her one for not blowing up. She was definitely taking one for the team. How she was staying so calm, he’d never know. If it was some magical drug, maybe she’d share. If not, he wasn’t going to survive his mother.
As they convened on the patio, Emma went inside to get the humidor she’d given him as a gift. It gave her a few minutes away, and Greyson didn't blame her.
He wanted to run too.
As did Curtis.
Dante.
And even Steele.
His mother was driving everyone insane.
This wasn’t how he pictured their first night in the house. In his mind, it was filled with laughter, and even some sexy debauchery between him and his woman. Instead, it was the total opposite.
As the patio lights went on, a shadow moved in the greenery.
“Dimitri?”
He stepped forward so they could see him.
“Yes, it’s me. I’m just making my rounds,” he stated. “Do you need something?”
“Would you like a drink?” Greyson asked, hoping the man would stay. He’d been trying to keep his mother off Steele’s back, and this would give them something to talk about.
“Sure. I have some time.”
Curtis wasn’t in the mood. He had a lot on his mind from his wife’s death to the woman who was helping guard the fortress.
Instead, he wanted to bail.
“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to call it a night. I’ll take a walk around the yard and then head to bed.”
Dante wanted him to stay. The more people there, the less chance his mother would start on his boyfriend. All through dinner, Greyson somehow managed to keep his mother at bay. Eventually, his luck would wear out. It was only time, and he knew it.
“Goodnight, Curtis,” Greyson stated.
“Stay in the lighted areas,” Dimitri warned. “We don’t need anyone taking another shot at you.”
His mood was heading south, and he wished someone would. In fact, he was wearing his gun. It was tucked safely beneath the back of his shirt…just in case.
As he left, Emma returned with the humidor. The second Christopher Croft saw it, he smiled.
“Is that my dad’s?”
Emma brought it closer, flipping the lid up to allow him to pick a cigar. There were all different kinds, but it was the Cuban Cigars that got his attention.
“Son, I’ve never loved you more,” he stated, picking one of them.
Emma handed him the cutters, and let him prep his cigar. Her next stop was Dante as Greyson and his dad talked about old memories.
“Like Granddad once said, ‘why smoke it if it’s not Cuban’,” he recited.
“Amen, son. Amen.”
When she came to stop in front of Dimitri, Greyson motioned for him to pick one. While he didn't like the man hitting on his wife, he didn't want to be rude.
His mother was taking care of that for everyone tonight.
“Thank you, Greyson. I don’t think I’ve had a Cuban for a very long time.”
“They’re my guilty pleasure.”
Yeah, and here came the reason why.
Emma finished offering everyone cigars, except for her husband. When she picked one for him, cut it, and then offered to him, he patted his lap. Immediately, she curled into his body, dropping an arm over his shoulders.
Greyson waited for her to flick the Zippo for him. Then she picked up his bourbon and held it.
Dimitri laughed. “Ahhh, where to even start. You hav
e your own personal cigar girl. You’re a lucky man.”
Greyson didn't miss a beat. “I’m aware. If you don’t go there, you might live another day.”
It was the only segue that Reggie needed. “You shouldn’t smoke, Greyson. It’s not good for you. You either, Dante. Your father let you take up that horrible habit, and I’ve never been able to break it.”
Greyson knew in that moment that it was going to be the longest three months of his life. He was going to have to tell his father to go home early.
He knew it.
“Mom, what do I do for a living?” he asked.
“You’re a respected director for the FBI. You can’t go around smelling like old stogies.”
Emma sniffed his expensive shirt collar. It was a heady blend of his cologne, natural scent, and the cigars. “I actually like the smell. It’s powerful, like my husband.”
As she said the words, her body shifted, rubbing wantonly against him. She was in a dress, and he really wanted to let his hands wander.
Yeah, company sucked.
Right about now, he could be christening the patio.
“Mom, people shoot at me on a daily basis--Emma too. Trust me. This cigar is the least of my worries. Smoking won’t be what kills me.” Somehow, he managed to stop there and not add the part about her being the one who was going to finish him off with a stroke.
His control was astounding, even to him.
Dante raised his hands in surrender. “I did multiple tours in the Middle East. I nearly got blown up. I’ll risk it.”
Emma laughed. She couldn’t help herself. It earned her a look from Reggie.
“Well, at least Steele has some common sense.”
Dante wanted to be sick.
She was now focused on him.
“My father smoked them when he was alive, and I hated him. I don’t have an aversion to them other than it’s more a subconscious thing where I don’t do anything he did. You know…like being gay.”
Dante sighed.
Here it came.
His boyfriend just pointed out the big pink elephant that they all worked so hard to keep hidden. It was like he wanted a confrontation.
Damn it!
“Speaking of your gayness, when are you and my son going to get married?” Reggie asked.
Christopher tried to stop her. She was on the border of asking an innocent question and crossing into a scary gray area where feelings got hurt.
“It’s quite okay, Mr. Croft. Your wife is asking a very valid question.” He then focused on the woman. “I imagine when one of us decided the time is right and asks. That’s the beauty of having two grooms. You up the chances of a proposal by fifty percent.”
She stared at him.
“I want babies.”
Greyson shifted, pulling out his wallet. Emma pulled the money she’d earned earlier out of her bra, and Dante held out his hand.
“What now?”
“We were betting on how long it would take you to ask about kids, right after a wedding. I said the very next sentence. Looks like I know crazy best,” Dante said.
He took his ill-gotten betting gains, and then kissed Steele. “It looks like we have popcorn money for the movies.”
Reggie made a huffing sound. “That’s not a very nice thing to do to me.”
Emma laughed.
It slipped out.
It must have been all the booze. She worked with cocky detectives and chauvinist pigs all day long, and she was better than this, but God help her, the woman was on her last nerve.
“I know my sons, Emma, and I have a right to say what I think. You’ve only married into this family. You’re not the matriarch. Have some respect.”
Greyson stood.
Enough was enough.
Only Emma stopped him from setting his mother straight. “I have this, Grey. It’s time your mother and I had a discussion. Woman to woman.”
He opened his mouth.
“You owe me for the chef.”
He shut up.
Damn it!
His wife just pulled the one card she had against him. This was going to be ugly. He could see it now.
This was her house, and she was going to lay down the law. “Reggie, can I see you for a minute inside?”
Not one man spoke.
They knew better.
“Yes, we should talk. There seems to be an issue between us, and this needs to be resolved.”
She clicked haughtily away from the patio in her huff. Instead of saying anything, Emma simply gave her husband a kiss. “I’m sorry, babe, but someone has to say something.”
It was going to be her.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, warning the man.
All three Crofts, Steele, and Dimitri sat there staring at each other. This was going to be bad.
The head of house versus woman who birthed sons--it was a bloodbath in the making.
There was no way it could have a good outcome.
Inside the door, Emma found Reggie pacing. Before she could open her mouth, the woman laid into her.
“They are my boys. I watched them grow, I patched their cuts, and I cared for them when they were sick. I’m their mother, and I have every right to be involved in their lives. You’re a wife. It’s not the same thing.”
Emma crossed her arms.
“Greyson is my first born. He’s a powerful man, and he deserves someone who respects that. People will see this, and they’ll judge him by your behavior.”
Emma stopped her. “Wait a second, are you saying he’s too good for some lowly detective, Reggie? If memory serves me correct, when you first met me, at the hospital, you were thrilled he found me. You thought I was perfect for Greyson, because I got him. I saw the real man. Now he’s powerful, and I can’t possibly see what he needs?”
She didn't reply.
“Or was it the fact that this lowly cop saved his ass and rescued him from being slaughtered. Maybe that’s the only reason you didn't tell him to lose the baggage.”
Again, Reggie said nothing, but the look on her face said it all.
“Well, let me clear the air. I don’t want babies, and neither does he. If that’s what this is all about, I suggest you adopt some from a third world nation. You can toss money at them and move on with your life. We’re not interested in diapers and baby formula. We have a life we happen to love.”
“All my friends have grandchildren. I deserve that happiness too. This isn't all about you and Greyson.”
She laughed. “Uh, yes it is when it comes to us bringing children into the world. I’m not having kids only to have something happen to us, and they’re left all alone. I’ve been there and done that. It sucks. I’m also not giving some crazy person a shot at my kids. We don’t have the life you want us to have. You have to accept that.”
Reggie was pacing.
Emma saw where her husband got it. He may look like his father, but he had his mother’s eyes and temper.
Good to know the devil you were fighting.
“You don’t get it.”
Emma cut her off. “I do get it, but this isn't about that. What it’s about is how you will not come into my house and disrespect my family. Dante is important to me, as is Steele. They’re part of our lives, and we won’t have you stirring everyone up. Yes, your son is gay. No, he’s not getting married right now. Accept it and move on.”
She glared at Emma. “He should have a wife who understands his place in society.” Reggie waved her arms around to indicate the house. “Just like my other son. Too bad he doesn’t listen either.”
“Oh, you must be seriously confused about all of this. Greyson didn't inherit this house and the money. I did. So technically, I deserve someone suited for me. I deserve the best and do you want to know who that is, Reggie?”
She stared at her, mouth open.
“Let me tell you. It’s Greyson. I’ve loved him from the second I met him, and YES, he has baggage.” Emma was referring to the woman before her.
“I still said I’d marry him, and I’d do it all over again. What I will not do is let you come in here to insult my house, my décor, my food, my clothes, my hair, my life, or the people I love. If you can’t have manners, you can leave.”
She sputtered.
“You heard me. This is my house too, and I won’t let you play dictator. You will not make us all get drunk to numb your words, you will not tell my husband that he can’t smoke a cigar, and you absolutely will not dictate the use of my uterus. Mind your own damn business.”
“My son won’t let you talk to me this way.”
“Go ahead. Ask him. We’ll see where his heart lies, Reggie. You may be his mother, but I’m his wife. You were given his love from birth. I had to find him, earn it, and hold it. That makes me a hell of a lot more powerful than you. Learn it. Live it. Accept it.”
She stomped away.
Emma had enough. Instead of listening to the conversation, she went upstairs. Right now, she didn't want to deal with this. She had a dead friend, three bodies, and a killer that they didn't know much about.
Enough was enough.
She needed a break.
Outside, the men all cringed at the barbs being hurled back and forth. Greyson wanted to intervene, but his father wouldn’t let him. The women needed to get this off their chests.
Yet, he felt bad.
Even Dimitri looked uncomfortable.
Greyson closed his eyes. It was a matter of time before hurricane Reggie returned.
Steele patted Dante on the knee. “At least you don’t have to play interference anymore. Emma just blew the place up.”
Dante groaned. “This is bad. She’s going to be a million times worse. With my mother, if she doesn’t get her own way, she’s a dictator.”
“Dictators can be removed from power,” Dimitri stated. “You just need the right weapon to get rid of them.”
They all stared at him.
“I meant a woman who stands up for her family. You’re a lucky man, Greyson. You have a woman with backbone.”
Yeah, he supposed he did.
Christopher tried to reassure his sons. “I’ll take her to a hotel. I don’t want you to suffer. This is my fault. I tried to stall crossing the country. I was hoping she’d get bored and want to go home. Your mother is tough to gauge.”
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