Then reality once again hit. His pillow showed the telltale signs that he was far away, and it was like a dagger to her heart.
Damn the FBI and their meetings.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, Emma ran her hand over his side of the bed, rolling towards it to breathe in his lingering scent. Since leaving a week ago, to head back to Quantico, she found herself doing the silly things of a woman in love. At that exact moment, she was sleeping in his t-shirt. It was the one he had worn on his last day in town. The shirt was huge on her, but it gave her an iota of peace and familiarity with his fragrance pressed against her skin. It reminded Emma of their last night together before he had driven away.
Yeah, she was hopelessly lost.
Greyson Croft was the love of her life, and she was behaving like a lost puppy without him. There was no doubt about it. From the outside, someone viewing their relationship might think it was only because it was new, and that they were fully entrenched in the honeymoon phase. Honestly, Emma believed they would be this way forever.
Naysayers would be dead wrong. Every time she saw him, her heart flipped in her chest. Right now, she’d give up her badge to have him back, or a plethora of any otherworldly possessions. All she wanted was one more kiss to get her through the day.
Absence didn't make the heart fonder. It made it lonely.
Rolling back over, Emma stared through the glass-plated windows that led to their balcony. When they were in Vegas for their honeymoon, she’d simply mentioned that she loved the view. When it came time to sell both their homes, and buy a new one, who knew Greyson was going to take that one comment she’d made and run with it?
Not only had he picked a condominium with spectacular views of the boulevard, but he picked a ridiculously secure place too. How much protection did an FBI Director and a homicide detective need? At the front door, there was a bellman and check in. The garage under the building was gated and video wired for security. Then there was the price tag…
Truth be told, it made Emma cringe each time she thought about it. Even after selling both homes, it still cost a small fortune. For a girl who grew up in the inner city of Philly, paying this much money was the craziest thing she had ever done.
Yet, Greyson didn't even flinch on the day they signed the paperwork for the mortgage.
Of course he didn’t. He was unflappable. The man had nerves of steel. Then there was the tough bossy part of him which scared people, ensuring that he remained at the top of the FBI food chain. Why would a six-figure mortgage make him nervous?
On the day they signed, he was positive that Vegas was meant to be home. Greyson knew that Emma would have the job under control, even when she wasn’t sure of that herself. His courage, strength, and sturdiness made her all lightheaded and dizzy.
God, she missed him.
Sliding out of their giant bed, she moved to the balcony to stare out into the new city that they were calling home. It was a huge change for both of them. This was the beginning of their new lives and adventure together.
Her husband was director of the FBI Field office, and she was now a member of the Las Vegas Police Department. Last year, she swore she’d never go back to being a detective, but since meeting and marrying her husband, all that had changed.
He healed her and patched her back up.
Greyson made her whole once more.
And here she was in ‘Sin City’, wading through the dark bowels of the streets, seeking out more death. It appeared that the saying ‘never say never’ was very apropos in this case.
Who would have known?
The only thing Emma Croft was sure of was that being married to Greyson was going to be one hell of an adventure. Only because when he was at her side, she was able to face murder and crime every single day.
Except now, he wasn’t around. He was halfway across the country and nowhere to be seen.
All of her nerves were raw at the imposed distance that they were facing. While she’d never admit it out loud to anyone she worked with, at home she’d mope and feel his absence.
Let’s face it--Emma was hopelessly lost.
“Grey, I miss you and don’t know if I can do this without you,” she whispered as if casting the words out over the autumn air would somehow conjure him up and bring him back sooner.
She jumped as her phone beeped. Returning to their bedroom, she retrieved it from the nightstand. Emma couldn’t help but smile. It was like the man had the place wired for sound and video.
Then again, he actually might.
Why put it past him?
Replying to his text, Emma was feeling a little better. Apparently, the love of her life was awake and getting ready for his meetings. Picturing him in his spiffy suit and tie made her blood start to race. Blushing, Emma knew she needed to stop thinking about her husband and sex, or it would make the day that much more torturous.
After making the bed and dressing, she wandered through their condo. There were moments when the magnitude caught her off guard, and it was generally while she was home alone. Struggling for normalcy, Emma took deep breaths and tried to stay focused on the one thing that would keep her grounded.
Greyson Croft.
Greyson Croft.
He was her mantra.
A smile broke across her face as she swore she caught the scent of his cologne in the air. Okay, now, she could pull it off.
Somehow, even hundreds of miles away, the man was still in control. It was just how it was between them. Out of the two, Greyson Croft was the more dominant personality. In an impulsive decision, Emma decided to let the bossy man she loved lead the way in their relationship. She trusted him that much.
He talked her into interviewing with the LVPD.
He convinced her to take the position.
He did everything to procure them a home.
Greyson Croft liked to drive the marriage bus, and Emma was more than happy to let him. There was something nice about not having to worry about the bills, or the little things that she’d often forget to take care of anyway. Her husband was truly excellent at what he did.
He was the king of micromanaging their lives.
She equated him to a social drill sergeant, always having to be in charge of the little things that so many never gave a thought. A smile formed on her lips as she daydreamed about the man she loved more than anything.
Yeah, to some people he might come across as bossy, arrogant, and domineering, but Emma knew it was simply a front worn by the sexiest man in the world. When they were alone together, he was gentle, sweet, and so doting that it brought tears to her eyes. Since tying the knot, she wasn’t the least bit sorry that they only knew each other for two weeks before getting hitched.
He was the best thing that ever came crashing into her life.
Finally finding her way to the kitchen, she pulled a mug down from the cabinet and prepared to pour herself a cup of coffee. Something out of place caught her eye, causing her to stare inside.
“Huh?” she muttered, reaching in and pulling out the folded up piece of paper. Emma read it and couldn’t help but smile.
You’re the love of my life. I’m not whole without you.
Her heart swooned at the words. This was case in point. The man was tough on the outside and gooey and mushy on the inside. The entire week, she’d been locating little reminders of him all over the condominium. After her shower on the first day, in the steamy bathroom, a message appeared written on their mirror. It spoke of their love and what he planned on doing when he arrived home.
She had to give Greyson credit. If anything, he was creative. Emma grinned and folded the paper back up. She would save it with all the other mementos he had been leaving for her.
Emma was wholeheartedly convinced that she was the luckiest woman alive.
Now, if he’d just come home, life would again be perfect.
Sipping her coffee, she wandered to the balcony to gaze out over their new home. It was vastly different in the daylight than i
n the dark. Emma loved the city at night--the sounds, the lights and the spectacular views. It was something to behold. Now being a resident, she understood the lure of Vegas. People came here to see the fountain at the Bellagio, get hitched at the Elvis chapel, and to walk under the palm trees from one casino to the next.
She’d done it all on their honeymoon and couldn’t blame them.
Alas, when the fun was over, she couldn’t escape to a new city. Now, Las Vegas was her home, and it was more about walking through the dark shadows of death all while playing homicide detective. Currently, her caseload was clearing up and there was a little room to breathe. At that moment, on her desk there were two files. One was a vagrant murder and the other a shooting. Both people had died in completely opposite manners. One was strangled, probably over some perceived treasure from a dumpster in the homeless community. The other was a victim in a domestic assault gone horribly wrong.
Emma was finding that neither assignment was much of a challenge, and honestly, she didn't mind. Open and shut cases were the best ones. You asked around, you dug up some clues, and then you filed the papers when you finished it. It didn't take her long to get back into the groove when she started the job. Her boss threw her easy ones, watching and observing her. It was as if he didn't believe she’d actually been a detective before. His skepticism was both entertaining and annoying at the same time.
Yet, Emma didn't blame him. Here this woman walked into his precinct, and she was pretty much handed the job by the commissioner. Granted, Emma was qualified, but the reaches of Greyson Croft and the FBI had a great deal to do with it too.
She’d be naïve to believe it didn't.
Now that she had proved herself competent, the boss man was off her back. It was the same in any city and in any police house. Emma had expected it and wasn’t afraid to play with the big, male dogs. The job had nothing to do with her husband and everything to do with her skills.
Glancing down at her watch, she knew it was time to hustle. Emma liked to try and arrive at work early to prep herself before her partner finally made it into the office.
When she arrived at the precinct that first day, Emma had to admit that there were butterflies over which detective she’d be paired up with to work. When she met the woman, all worries had dissipated. Detective Brynn Westmore was a really awesome person. From the first minutes of meeting her, she’d lightened the mood, eased Emma’s fears, and showed her around. Even though she’d only been a detective over a year and was as green as grass, Emma truly appreciated the woman.
Now it was a close partnership. Emma was learning about Vegas, and Brynn was picking her brain about being a detective. It was a symbiotic relationship that worked well for them both. Experience was being traded for camaraderie.
The two women were polar opposites. Emma was laid back and calm, while Brynn was a ball of nervous energy. There’d been a few times where she had to cut the woman off from caffeine, only because she was too wired to do her job. Even though they were relatively close in age, that’s where the similarities ended. Brynn liked to party and have fun, and Emma… she liked her husband.
A lot.
Thinking about him once more, Emma grinned as she clipped her sidearm to her hip and placed her badge beside it. When she saw him, she was going to climb all over Greyson and cover his handsome face with so many kisses.
She didn't care where they were at the time.
Emma grabbed her keys and coffee as she headed out the door. Now, it was time to leave the safety and solitude of the fortress to meander the streets and stand for the dead. There was always the hope that if she was lucky, it’d be a slow day for the living and everyone would just get along.
* * *
Greyson Croft was finishing his five-mile run on the treadmill in the hotel gym. The sweat was running down his back and chest in rivulets. There was nothing like a morning workout to get the day started.
Who was he kidding? He was running because he was sexually frustrated and missed his woman. What he’d rather be doing was waking up his sleeping beauty.
Repeatedly.
Just thinking about her caused his entire body to tighten. That’s generally what happened when he pictured himself lying beside his Emma. Deep within his mind, he kept expecting to wake up from the dream only to find her gone. How did he manage to catch a woman of her caliber? It was beyond him. His heart began racing at the mere thought that one day she might become weary of what they had and try to run away.
Over his dead body.
If Emma ran, he’d give chase. Then, he’d toss her over his shoulder and bring her back home. Yeah, it was beyond caveman, and he was a big enough person to admit it. Greyson Croft was a possessive person, so why pretend?
God, he hated being away from her. Right now, he wanted nothing more than to be having coffee with Emma before work on their balcony.
Again, that was another lie.
What he wanted had nothing to do with a view and caffeine. Again, his mind went there, and he forced it behind the issues that needed his attention. There were a couple more meetings, and he was home free. He’d planned on flying home over the weekend to surprise her. Unfortunately, the head honcho at the FBI, Gabe Rothschild, had called mandatory weekend meetings. Croft honestly believed the man derived great pleasure out of torturing people.
He was a true sadist.
The only positive thing was that he had finally met his boss or should he say bosses. Surprisingly, there were two, and they were married. Greyson was hired to run a satellite office, answering to Ethan and Elizabeth Blackhawk. Both seemed down to earth and really great. A part of him wished he could work with his wife, side by side every day, but in reality, he knew the truth. She wasn’t FBI, and he wasn’t a homicide detective.
The beeping of the treadmill drew his attention. His run was over, and now, it was time to shower and get down to business. Pulling out his phone, he sent his wife a text message. It was the second one for the day, and soon she should be walking into her office to begin her shift.
Being this far from her was troubling. Greyson knew that when it came down to it, Emma was his biggest priority in life. He knew that he had pushed her back into being a detective, and now Croft was a nervous wreck that she’d resent him for it.
He wasn’t concerned that she couldn’t do it, because his wife was smart, fearless, and born to be a cop. It had everything to do with being this far away if she stumbled. He wasn’t there to catch her if she fell. All he could hope was that nothing big would pop up until he returned. What had happened in her past always lingered in the back of his mind. Granted, the nightmares weren’t as frequent, and the fear of blood seeping back into her life wasn’t a concern as of late, but he was still worried.
Her brother’s death and Celestia’s serial killer put him on edge, even long after it was over. Greyson couldn’t help it. When he’d first met his wife, he knew he needed to protect her and keep her guarded. Thoughts like that were best left unsaid, unless he wanted Emma to lose her mind. Croft couldn’t help that every fiber of his being wanted to wrap around her like a big shield. Something about the woman just called to him, and he was feeling like a big, overprotective caveman.
The thought made him laugh. Yeah, it was true that he had dragged her back to his dwelling and made Emma his. The purely masculine grin said it all. Thank God, she wasn’t right there. Yeah, thoughts like that would get him hurt.
In the weeks that they had been married, most of the time he had learned to think those things and not say them out loud. Emma was more than capable. It was all about his inadequacies. When other men were anywhere near her, he lost his mind. At one point, he believed it would abate once they tied the knot, but it remained the same.
Croft was old fashioned.
He was a brute when it came to her.
As long as Emma didn't seem to mind, he didn’t intend to change his ways. The old dog could learn new tricks, like romancing his woman, but readjusting wasn’t an opt
ion. The truth be told, he suspected his wife liked him just the way he was. Whenever the oaf side of him surfaced, she would grin and give him a kiss on the cheek.
Emma treasured him and that made him damn happy. Every caveman needed a cave babe.
Okay, that would definitely get him hurt.
Heading back to his room, he wanted a shower, some coffee, and his plane ticket home to roll around with his wife.
Since only two of those options were viable, he needed to suck it up and just deal with it.
* * *
Emma rolled into the squad room and moved towards her desk. It appeared the same as she left it the previous night, except there was a flower arrangement sitting dead center. Maybe that wasn’t the correct description. There was a massive vase filled with roses, and they were reminiscent of the ones Greyson gave her for their first date on her birthday. As she approached it, Emma imagined the wide grin on her face was very telling.
Yeah, he had it just as bad as she did.
Thank God!
“They came courtesy of Romeo a few minutes ago. The poor delivery guy needed a back brace to carry in that monstrosity,” said a male voice from behind her.
Glancing over her shoulder, Emma was still smiling. How could she not? The man she married was the sweetest guy alive, and she was one lucky girl.
“What did he do?” Detective Sawyer Laden asked from his nearby desk. “It’s not Valentine’s Day. Is today your birthday?”
“Nope,” she replied, taking in their scent. The roses smelled better than any other flower she’d ever sniffed in her life, because they reconnected her with Greyson.
“Is it your anniversary?”
Emma laughed. “No, it’s not.” The man questioning her was entertaining. Sawyer Laden was a good cop, but he was a flirt and didn't follow rules very well. Even after only working there a few weeks, she already could see it. Emma tried to steer clear of him, only because she liked him too much to see Greyson end his life. “My husband’s away on business, and he misses me.”
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 2