Emma wanted to giggle in the worst way, and when Croft gave her another look, it only intensified the need to succumb to the laughter.
As the door opened, he grabbed his wife by the arm and led her towards his office. In the room, all the agents who were not in the field, had glanced up curiously as their boss pulled a woman towards his personal area.
“Behave,” he hissed, warning her.
She started laughing as they arrived at his office. When he closed the door, the look on his face said it all.
“I didn't say anything!” she exclaimed before he could even say a word.
Greyson’s heart was pounding, and his control was close to snapping. “Damn it! Emma,” he growled. When she continued laughing, he moved towards her.
The look on his face stopped her laughter as she stepped back and out of his reach. “Grey, stay calm,” she pleaded, finding herself trapped against the wall.
His control continued to fray as he grabbed his wife by the arms and lifted her up onto her toes. Staring down in her eyes, he saw the worry and nerves and if anything, it only made him crazier. Pulling her against him, he slammed his lips to hers, plundering her mouth like some wild man dying to taste her. No one could ever stir him up quite like she could.
Everything in her stopped as the fear abated and Emma realized that even when provoked, he’d never harm her. She kissed him back, sharing the same passion and heat he was pouring into her. Giving everything she had, the world around her ceased and all that existed was her husband.
There was no doubt in his mind that this was completely and totally unprofessional. Apparently, he had no control around her, and bringing Emma to his office was a very bad idea. What he wanted now was to make love to his wife. It was exactly what he couldn’t do. When her hands found his hair and she ran her fingers through it, his heart thundered.
It was quite possible that he couldn’t stop. His brain was pleading with him as his body ignored the command and went with instinct. This was his woman, and he needed her.
There.
Then.
And now.
Something primitive reared its ugly head, and it drove him to do irrational and illogical things in his place of business.
Oh shit! He was so screwed it wasn’t even funny. All he needed was his secretary or co-worker to wander into the office.
He’d be fired.
God, he prayed for divine intervention.
Emma really wanted to climb up the front of her very sexy husband. The scent, the feel, and the way he was out of control made her insane. The basic desire ebbed between them, threatening to pull them both under, and she didn't want to stop. The call of need from man to woman was there, and Emma desperately wanted to answer it.
There was this masculine growl, low in her husband’s chest, and she knew he was spiraling out of control. Emma needed to be the one who stopped them, before they went all the way. He’d hate himself after the fact that he’d succumbed in his office. She couldn’t do that to him.
Pulling away, she looked up into his eyes. The molten silver burned with so much love and lust, she couldn’t believe a few minutes ago she’d stepped back from him, believing he’d ever hurt her.
“Greyson,” she whispered, running her fingers down his cheek. “We can’t.”
He swallowed, grateful his wife had the ability to pull away and stop them. “Thank you,” he whispered, resting his hands on the wall on either side of her as he closed his eyes to regain his breath.
Emma wanted to offer him reassurance. “I love you, Grey. We’ll finish this tonight,” she promised.
He simply nodded, not speaking. Croft wasn’t sure what the hell had happened. One minute they’d been turning in evidence, and the next he was mauling his wife in his office. Thank God that it was lunch time and everyone was busy.
“I have no control around you,” he admitted, tucking a stray copper strand of hair behind her ear. “You could break me so easily,” he admitted.
Emma was touched by his words and thought back to Celestia and what Agent Briggs had told her about him being tough on the outside and fragile on the inside. “I won’t ever hurt you,” she promised, staring into his eyes.
His heart swamped with so much emotion. “I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Before she could speak, her phone began ringing. Pulling it from her pocket, she saw it was the ME. “Doctor Bentley, what can I do for you?” she inquired, her gaze never leaving her husband’s face.
“I have something you need to see, and fast. Can you head down to the morgue?” he asked.
Emma was a little surprised. The man sounded excited. That wasn’t exactly the norm for her ME. “We can. I’m out with Director Croft right now. We’ll be heading back in-house shortly. We’ll meet you there.”
Emma hung up the phone.
“What’s he got?” Croft asked, finally feeling more like himself.
She wasn’t quite sure herself, but for him to call her, it had to be big. “He didn't say. Can we head there?” she asked.
He straightened his stance, fixing his clothing that she’d pulled and tugged on in the heat of the moment. “Am I presentable?” he asked, wishing he had a mirror.
Emma checked out his apparel. “Yes, but come here,” she said, having him lean down closer to her. Fixing the hairs that were disheveled from her hands, now Greyson would finally pass the employee test.
“Thank you,” he whispered, giving her a delicate kiss.
“Let’s go, Director Croft,” she winked, twining her fingers through his as they headed through the door. “Will holding my hand destroy your bad ass credibility?” she asked, letting him decide.
He had two choices at that moment, one where he said screw it and clung to his wife, or one where he released her fingers.
Releasing her hand, he went one step further. He dropped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. He wouldn’t ever deny his wife, even in the workplace.
“Thank you, Grey,” she said grinning.
“Trust me, honey, it’s all my pleasure. You make me every man’s idol.”
She laughed.
Together, they opened the door and stepped out to face the staff that was there. Some of his special agents glanced up curiously and some didn't bother. All in all, no one knew what had just gone down behind his office door.
Croft was in the clear. His integrity was safe.
Now, they needed to get back to the precinct to meet up with the ME and talk about something they were both very familiar with.
Death.
* * *
Strolling into autopsy, they weren’t sure what to expect. They already knew that all the tox and lab reports on their last two victims had been processed, so unless the doctor redid the autopsy, they weren’t sure why he needed them.
As Croft pushed open the door, he already found that Detective Westmore and Agent Briggs were waiting for them. The ME must have called, requesting their presence too.
Okay, this better be damn good to draw all four of them there when they had work they should be doing.
Emma stared at the sheet-covered body, not sure what the heck was going on. It wasn’t the size or shape of either of their victims. “Doctor Bentley, you needed us?” she inquired.
He nodded. “We had this man come in,” he said, pulling back the sheet.
“Holy shit,” muttered Croft. “Maybe a little warning next time?” he asked, unsure how his wife didn't flinch at the stench.
“Sorry, I keep forgetting that you gentlemen work out of a high tech lab with super fans to suck away the smell.” Doctor Bentley glanced over at Emma. “I know what you’re thinking.”
She laughed. “I’m thinking a few things, if you must know.”
“How about I start with why I called you all here?” Bentley stated, pointing at the corpse. “This man was brought in to autopsy this morning, and he’s been dead a day or so.”
“Okay,” Croft said, not getting why
they were all there for a dead homeless person. While it was a tragedy, it wasn’t relevant.
“Here’s why,” he said, rolling the man to his side and lifting some of his lice infested hair.
Emma didn't flinch at the little bugs crawling all over the dead man’s scalp. In fact, had he been lice free, she would have found that odd. She’d seen it all on dead bodies--lice, maggots, and plenty of gangrene.
The list was practically endless.
“What is it?” Croft asked, leaning over the body and trying to not breathe.
“This man was killed with the same tool that took out your two showgirls.”
Everyone looked up.
“Are you sure?” Emma asked, wondering how this man fit in to the killers criteria.
Doctor Bentley nodded. “I measured the exact wound size and compared it to the two victims. It matches perfectly. Then, I found something even odder.”
Emma was curious to hear it. “What did you find?”
He pulled out a plastic bag and in it was a crisp one hundred dollar bill.
“You found a bum with money?” Briggs asked, staring at the bag.
“If he was killed by another vagrant, they would have taken his clothes, shoes, and anything else they found on him,” Croft said as he tried to remember that he was also there to teach Briggs.
“Good to know,” he replied, grossed out by the entire idea of stealing the man’s lice infested garments.
“So, we can probably eliminate the killer as being a homeless person. All of our female victims were all still dressed and had their possessions,” Detective Westmore added. “No one swiped anything they had on the body.”
“We need his prints,” stated Emma, getting a feeling in the pit of her stomach. “We have a nine-one-one call from a park where quite a few vagrants hang out, a homeless man with a one hundred dollar bill, and his death matches our other victims.”
“You think the killer tied up the loose ends?” Croft asked his wife, his mind also traveling that same thread of thought.
“I do. When’s the team coming back in from the park?” Emma wanted to compare the prints they pulled from the phone booth to the dead man.
“Shortly,” Croft said, pulling out his cell and texting his head lab tech. When he replied, Greyson showed her the message. “He’ll be in within the hour.”
“I already got the prints, and I can email them to your FBI team for verification at any time,” Bentley offered.
Croft nodded. “I want you to have the bill printed too, Curtis. Before you start your bitching, it’s a relatively new one and might give us something.”
Briggs laughed. “I’m getting too predictable. I need to shake it up a bit I see.”
“I think we need to keep this very quiet,” stated Emma. “If this gets out that our killer is now taking out just anyone, we’ve got a city full of panicked people and tourists on our hands.”
The ME understood. “I can bury it for the time being, until you have it all under control. I doubt that the man is going to have a bunch of people pining over his death anyway,” he replied. The statement alone was a sad testament to the man’s life.
“Thanks, Doc,” Emma answered, sighing.
“It looks like the game might be getting uglier,” stated her husband, placing his hand on her shoulder, reassuringly.
“Yeah, we have ourselves a manic.”
* * *
Wednesday late afternoon
The worst part about a murder investigation was the bottomless supply of information coming in from the lab. With all the trace and data, it was making the job that much more difficult. They were just starting to get the preliminary intel on Judd Frazier’s apartment, and every few minutes a phone or tablet would beep, signaling more emails.
It was tons of information to scan.
Right now, Emma was focused on the man they had brought in, knowing they could only hold him for so long before they were obligated to cut him free. She knew how to make Judd squirm. By leaving him alone to sit in the tank, it was a sure fire way to make him stew over what might be coming. Shortly, Emma intended to head in and rattle his cage as much as possible to get any details from him.
“We have the reports back on the videos found in the man’s apartment. They cross checked it and verified that it’s legitimate and not kiddie porn. If anything, he’s guilty of illegally copying it and nothing more,” stated Briggs.
She really didn't care if he was making copies of naked women. “We’re not vice. Let them worry about him selling or buying bootleg porn. I have bigger issues with the man.”
“What about the Viagra?” Croft asked, not looking up from the document he was reading. “Is it legit?”
“We found the owner, and he said he had it in his luggage. Apparently, the airline lost his bag.”
“Okay, so he didn't steal it,” stated Emma. “So, we can’t hold him on that.”
“He did attack you,” Greyson suggested. “We can hold him with that for a little while.”
Sitting back, she mulled it over. “No, he was after his bag of tricks, I was just in his way,” Emma said. “Besides, he didn't hurt me. We took a tumble. I’m more pissed at Detective Laden.”
Brynn looked confused. “What happened?”
Emma broke it down for her, giving her all the details behind what happened at Judd Frazier’s apartment.
“Oh shit. Are you going in to Ford?” she asked, worried about her partner. If they had a cop they couldn’t count on to watch their backs, it meant all of their lives could be at risk.
“No, I’m going to let it all blow over,” she replied, letting it go at that.
Croft didn't need her to handle it. He already had a private meeting on his agenda. As soon as he could get away, there was a side mission on his mind.
Before Emma could continue, there was a knock at the door.
“Am I interrupting?” asked the man standing in the doorway.
Director Croft stood waved him into the room. “This is my head lab tech, Max Pauley,” he offered, introducing him.
The man sauntered in and promptly began checking out the women in the room. There was the brunette from earlier, and a smoking hot redhead. Yeah, the LVPD had some lovely ladies.
Holding out his hand, he offered it to the woman beside the director. “Hello, I’m Max, and I’m the brains of the lab,” he offered, winking.
“Your brains are about to be all over the floor, if you don’t stop winking at my wife, Max,” Croft stated.
He looked surprised and actually glanced back and forth between the woman and his boss, trying to ascertain if he was kidding or serious. The ‘Ice King’ had a sizzling babe?
Emma took his outstretched hand and smiled. “I’m Detective Emma Croft, and the big guy is indeed my husband.”
“I don’t know why everyone is always shocked I’m married to you,” Greyson said, eyeing the tech up.
“It’s because you’re old and she’s sexy,” interjected Briggs, getting a sucker punch to the arm from Emma.
She gave him a look. “We discussed that, didn't we?”
He tried hard not to laugh. “Yes, ma’am.” Emma didn't like when he teased his boss about his age.
“What did you find, Max?” Croft redirected the conversation, before his partner got his ass kicked by his wife.
“We canvased the area, searching for security cameras, and there were none. Taking it out to the streets around the park, we tried to find any on ATM’s or businesses. The only one we found was a tobacco shop with a fake camera on the outside to ‘scare’ away the criminal element.”
Briggs was having a hard time not noticing that Max was winking at Brynn and staring at her like she was a tasty snack. His blood pressure shot up as he fought to ignore it.
One caveman was all this team could handle. His boss had that area covered.
“Okay, so that’s a bust. What else do you have?” Croft inquired.
Max took a seat and got comfortable. “I
went through that phone booth with a fine tooth comb. We have thirty three viable sets of prints from the glass and actual phone.”
“How about the nine and one buttons?” inquired Brynn. “I doubt anyone else called that number in the following day.”
Max nodded. “You’d fit right in on our team, Detective,” he practically crooned.
Both Emma and Greyson watched the interaction between the three people there. Briggs looked hot under the collar, Brynn was batting her eyelashes, and Max looked like he was on the prowl. None of this looked to have a happy outcome.
“We pulled the same print on the nine as we did with the one. I’ll run it. Maybe I can get you an ID.”
Emma had a better idea. “Our ME has a print. Can you run it off that and see if we have a match?”
“Shoot it over, Mrs. Croft.”
Trying not to cringe, Emma let it go. Not calling her Detective had made her feel like he was treating her as less than an equal. Yeah, she was Greyson’s wife, but she was also a cop.
“It’s Detective, Max,” Croft corrected. “Use the title that she’s earned, please.”
The man didn't care one way or the other. The woman was taken, and he wasn’t there to impress her. Now the brunette, he’d call her whatever she wanted.
“We also have a one hundred dollar bill,” Emma started, only stopping when the man began laughing. “What is so funny?”
“Money is the most handled thing on the face of this planet. That bill probably has about three hundred prints. They’ll be piled on top of one another and take days to pull apart and isolate.” Max answered honestly.
“So, if our killer and the victim touched it last, where would their prints be?” Emma asked, leaning back in her chair.
“On the top.”
“Then, I guess you’ll have a report to me by the end of the night,” she said, with little emotion in her voice or on her face. If the man wanted to play games, she’d go all in. This was after all, the gambling mecca of the universe.
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 15