Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2)

by Morgan Kelley

Croft could have laughed at that very moment. When they first decided to move to Vegas, he had wondered if she could handle going back to being a detective.

  There was no doubt in his mind. His girl was tough enough to not let anyone roll over her, including a Fed.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “I better get going then. I’ll have it to you within the hour.”

  She watched him leave. “Wow, you have a handful there, babe,” Emma commented.

  “He’s arrogant,” Briggs added and was glad that Emma was making him run the money. He almost wanted to gloat.

  Croft shrugged. “In the month I’ve been in this job, he’s yet to not follow through with his promises. So, he can afford to be arrogant, until he screws it up.” He really didn't care about the man’s attitude as long as he produced and too many feathers weren’t ruffled.

  Emma pushed back from the table, glancing down at her watch. “I think it’s time to do the interview with Judd Frazier. Grey, you want in on my little love fest with the perv?”

  As much as he didn't want her near the man, he was still thinking about what needed to be done. “I like to watch my wife interrogate people. It gets me all hot and bothered.”

  Laughter filled the room. “Okay then, it’s up to us girls. You boys can watch from behind the glass. Try and stay out of trouble.”

  Her husband grinned wickedly. “I’ll try.”

  The man was edgy and all stirred up. Emma had him placed in the interrogation room with the biggest officer they had on staff. The man was almost as large as her husband was. She instructed the cop to stare him down and intimidate him as much as possible.

  It was obviously working. Judd already had a fine sheen of sweat glistening off his upper lip.

  When Emma and Brynn entered the room, their pervert actually looked relieved.

  “Do you want me to stay, Detective?” questioned the beat cop.

  “Would you please? The suspect tackled me once. I may need you to ‘handle’ him, if you don’t mind.”

  The cop smiled. “I heard about the stunt he pulled, Detective. It’d be my pleasure to keep him in line for you.” As if to punctuate his words, he rolled his neck and it cracked.

  Judd looked scared shitless at what was coming. He’d seen a lot of TV and police brutality was common. “I don’t know why I’m here. I want a lawyer.”

  Emma leaned back in her chair. “Have you been read your Miranda rights?” she asked, staring at him with zero emotion. This was her area of skill, and the fun was about to begin.

  “No.”

  “Then you’re not under arrest,” she paused. “Yet.”

  He began looking nervous again.

  Flipping open her file, she slid the paper towards him. First was the picture of the deceased woman after the stitches were removed from her lips, and then the before. When the man blanched, she actually believed he’d puke then and there.

  “Did you kill her, Judd?”

  Croft stood behind the glass smiling. His wife went right for the jugular. She’d measured the man, knowing he’d be easy to break and close to the edge. Emma wouldn’t need to screw much with his mind. It was already a mess.

  “NO! Why would I kill her? She was having sex with me.”

  Brynn allowed her partner to lead.

  “So, you confirm that she was in your bed and at the time we first talked to you, you admitted to coercing the victim into sex for reduced rent.”

  “Shit!” He knew he was screwed.

  “Maybe she decided to stop, and you had no use for her,” Emma suggested. “Was that what happened, Judd?”

  The man stared down at his hands as if trying to find an answer.

  Quickly, Emma slammed her hand on the table, scaring him and pretty much everyone in the room. “Answer the question! I have a killer to find!”

  He started shaking. “I did some drugs with her. We had sex, but I never killed her. I swear.”

  Emma leaned forward, dropping her voice nice and low. “Why should I believe you, Judd?”

  His eyes started to fill with tears, and he finally spilled it all. “Look at me. I’m not her type. Why would I kill a woman who was willingly having sex with me? She’s so far out of my league I can’t even get tickets to watch. Guys like me don’t get hot women. The closest we get is jerking off to a movie. Women like you aren’t going to fall out of the sky and into our laps.”

  Emma bought it. The man wasn’t exactly killer material, and yeah, she could be wrong, but her gut said otherwise.

  “I didn't do it. I may be a sex addict, and I may have manipulated her, but I was getting off twice a week with a hot woman.”

  She simply stared at him.

  “Hey, seriously! Women like you two don’t mess around with men like me. You get beefy men like him.” He jerked his thumb at the officer. “I’m short, scrawny, and going bald. I know the facts, lady.”

  Briggs looked over at his boss when he growled. “And you, big guy. The pretty woman is all yours,” he cajoled teasingly. “No need to bust through the glass and commit murder.” He started laughing at him.

  Breathing in, he had to admit he was impressed by his wife. She’d managed to get an honest answer out of a man and it didn't take long at all. Unfortunately, that didn't play into his plan. He assumed Emma would have to sweat the man longer, and he’d have time for his little side mission. Glancing over at his partner, he needed a few minutes out of the room. “Cover for me. I’ll be right back.”

  “Where you going?” he asked suspiciously.

  Croft grinned. “I have some business to handle.”

  Briggs watched him walk away, and then turned his focus back on the women in the room. As they did the interview, he logged the details, but something about his partner leaving had thrown up a big red flag.

  Trouble was coming…

  He found him sitting in his office. The time had come to have a little man to man talk with the captain. Knocking on the door, he waited to get his attention. By the carefully blank look on his face, the hate was obvious.

  “May I have some of your time?”

  Ford leaned back in his chair, not expecting this little social call at all. “That’s what I’m here for,” he said, icily.

  “I think we have a problem,” Croft began, following his wife’s example and getting right down to it.

  “You think?”

  “Listen, we both crossed a line. I’ll admit it went too far. I’m also man enough to admit that I get bitchy when my wife gets targeted over stupid shit. I’ll toss down the olive branch in order to work together and deal with what’s happening behind your back.”

  Ford considered his words and their implication. “I’ll admit that I shouldn’t have spoken to my detective that way, and I’ll admit I have a temper.”

  “Apparently, we both do.”

  “I agree.”

  “Can we get past this? Let’s face it. I’m head of the FBI office here in Vegas. If you have more serial killing or homicides, I’ll be the one you call. If my wife is handling them, I’ll be dealing with them personally. We’re destined to be in each other’s faces a very long time. We can play nice in the desert sandbox or we can fight to the death, but aren’t both of our jobs hard enough without making them more difficult?”

  The man understood what he was saying. “What are you suggesting?”

  “We’re both dominant, overbearing, bossy men and we’re both in charge. I’ll try to stay off your toes, and you cut my wife a break because she’s married to me. Trust me. I didn't get her this job. Emma’s very good at what she does.”

  Ford nodded. “I think that’s for the best, and I’m aware of your wife’s abilities. I checked her out thoroughly. The commissioner may have hired her, but I dug so far into her past I know it all.”

  Croft got the hint. If he pushed the man, Emma would pay by her past being leaked. He could appreciate a man playing dirty to get what he wanted, but he wasn’t above it either.

  Two can play that g
ame.

  “Today, during the search warrant, you sent two detectives to be back up. One of those detectives purposely didn't restrain the man, and he ended up attacking Emma. I’ll make myself perfectly clear. If my wife gets hurt, I’m coming for you, Ford. I won’t go after the asshole first. I’ll look for you. You won’t see me or hear me, and they won’t find you. I can promise it’ll be painful, and you’ll be in pieces, if shit like that ever goes down again. I’ll use my entire office to make sure no one finds your remains.”

  His blood pressure began to rise as he wasn’t sure whether he should be angrier at the threat or the fact that one of his men almost risked another detective’s life. That would mean an internal investigation if she filed a report. On second thought, he was well aware of the shit that would hit the fan if IAB stepped into the fray.

  “I wasn’t aware of the stunt he pulled, and I’ll handle it immediately.”

  “I hope we’re clear,” Croft said standing.

  “Crystal,” Ford added.

  “Have a good day, Captain,” he said, walking out of the office and right past the two detectives he’d worked with that morning.

  “Detective Bristol,” he said nodding. The other man was scowling and ignored.

  Ford stood in his office door and watched the other man leave. “Laden and Bristol, come join me for a little talk in my office,” he said, waiting until they were inside before slamming the door.

  Everyone in the squad room jumped and Croft smiled as he pulled a rose from his wife’s vase on her desk.

  Checkmate, asshole. Maybe now, he wouldn’t screw with his wife or go anywhere near her.

  Heading back into the interview room to watch Emma wrap it up, he couldn’t help but smile in masculine satisfaction. This minor war was won, and there was no doubt in his mind that even though Captain Ford was a hard ass, he wouldn’t cross the line again. Emma’s safety was paramount, since he couldn’t be by her side every second of the day.

  Once he entered, he could see by his partner’s face that something was bothering him. “What’s up, Curtis. You look pissed off.”

  He’d just been sitting there dwelling on Brynn and the asshole tech. His blood was boiling, and he really wanted to say something to her.

  “Nothing,” he stated, burying it again and changing the subject. “Your wife is good in an interview,” he added, nodding towards the glass. “She’s just about ready to finish it up.”

  He patted his partner on the back. “When you want to talk, you can always come to me.”

  Briggs nodded, not ready yet to go there, because there was really nothing to discuss.

  Croft couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. He was like a little brother, and he hated to see him all riled up. Being a guy himself, there was no doubt what had Curtis this messed up.

  Women.

  It was the story of every man’s life.

  Emma worked him long and hard during the interview to get anything out of him, and not once did his story ever change. She even found that he’d bought the luggage at the lost and found sale that the airport had and never used the pills.

  When she believed he was drained of anything she could get from him, Emma nodded to the cop. “Take him outside and send him on his merry way.”

  “I can go?” he asked excitedly.

  Emma nodded, watching him scurry away like a roach when the lights went on.

  “That was so unproductive,” stated Brynn.

  “Yeah, that happens sometimes,” she answered, standing up and stretching. At the knock on the door, she looked over to find the most handsome man in the world standing there with a present.

  “Wow, I get flowers after questioning a suspect? What do I get when I bring in the bad guy?” she asked, sniffing the red rose.

  Greyson leaned over to kiss her on the cheek and whisper in her ear.

  “Grey!” she objected, laughing.

  Detective Westmore smiled at Emma and her husband. They genuinely had a really good relationship, and she found herself being a little bit envious. For many years, she’d told herself that the only thing that mattered was getting the captain bars and running a squad, but now, she saw there could be a mix of both words.

  Suddenly, she wanted to feel and not be closed off from life and emotions.

  Briggs strolled in and kept his gaze adverted from hers. “Great interview, Emma,” he said, sitting on the corner of the table.

  “Thanks, Curtis,” she answered, her brow scrunched up. Something was going on. She could feel the tension in the air.

  Greyson’s phone rang. Glancing down, he put it on speaker. “Yes, Max?”

  “The prints are for a man named Carlos Latoya. He was fifty-eight years old and lived in the transient community for around twenty years. His prints were all over the inside of that phone booth, and they were also on the keypad- only the nine and the one. It’s safe to say that he’s most likely the caller.”

  “How about the bill?” questioned Emma.

  “Yes, ma’am, you can find his prints on it a lot. He handled it a great deal. There’s also a little spot of blood on the corner. It matches his DNA. I also found forty other viable prints. I’m running them now, but that’s going to take a considerable amount of time. Most people aren’t in the system.”

  “Thank you, Max,” she said impressed. “Have a good night.”

  “Thank you, Detective Croft.”

  “You can head out,” stated Greyson to his tech. “Get the team to process anything that’s left over during the night shift.”

  “Done,” he answered, before hanging up.

  Detective Westmore looked over at her partner and the director. “What do we do now?”

  Both of them shrugged, and it was Emma that spoke. “Nothing. We wait until something falls into our laps, or the killer strikes again.”

  “That last option sucks,” she said honestly.

  “Yes, it does.” It was one thing they could all agree on.

  Wednesday Night

  There was nothing like home sweet home. As Greyson and Emma finally walked through the door, they were more than happy to be in their own space. Immediately, he pulled her into his arms and began kissing her throat and neck before staring down into her eyes. “I missed touching you.”

  Emma snickered, “You don’t recall your office?”

  Croft thought back to it, and it had his blood boiling. “Yeah, I remember quite clearly. Want to skip dinner and re-enact?”

  “I absolutely will, but I want dinner with my husband on the balcony with a really big glass of wine to get me in the mood to do crazy things.”

  He liked that idea. “I’ll get the wine.”

  She watched him rush to the wine chiller and search for a bottle for them to open. “We’re having grilled portabella mushrooms in wraps with spicy Mexican cheese.”

  Croft sighed, “One day, you’re going to say steak.”

  Emma wished she could. In fact, she’d give anything to be able to do it for him. Everything in her ached to give him this one thing, but she didn't know how to do it.

  Her silence drew his attention. “I’m sorry, Emma. I didn't mean it to come out like that.”

  She shrugged, taking the bottle from him and getting the corkscrew. “If it matters at all, I’m really trying, Greyson.”

  Croft wrapped his arms around her and kissed the side of her face. “I know you are, and you’re doing an amazing job, honey. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. We’ll get there together. I promise.”

  Emma leaned back into his body, enjoying the familiarity of it. “You can go get changed, I’ll start cooking.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured into her ear.

  “Pick something that’s easy to get out of,” she suggested, winking at him. “You know, just in case I decide to have dessert first.”

  Greyson’s body reacted to the words, as it always did. “I can’t wait.”

  Emma began prepping their dinner and pulling all the ingredients
out of the refrigerator. Before long, her husband was back at her side in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. There was something insanely erotic about a man barefoot in a pair of beat up jeans, especially when the transformation was following an expensive suit and power tie. Already, her heart was pounding in her chest.

  “Why don’t you slip into something a little less work related, and I’ll take over for you?” he offered.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she nuzzled his throat, enjoying the scent of her husband. “That sounds perfect. Don’t forget to feed your mangy cat, or he’ll be following us around all night,” she stated, laughing at the look on his face. “Then, he’ll be watching us in bed, and that’s creepy.”

  “It’s our cat,” he corrected her grinning.

  Emma simply laughed as she headed to their bedroom. She’d hurry, but only because she couldn’t bear to be away from him for a single second.

  Croft heard the timer, and knew the cous cous was ready. He’d watched her prepare it enough to know how to handle it. He pulled open the lid and fluffed the little pearls with a fork.

  “I have a surprise for you,” she said as she watched him move around their kitchen.

  He glanced over to find his wife in a little slip dress. It was the one she had worn that first night he had cooked for her. “You still look beautiful in it,” and she did. His heart was beating rapidly.

  Emma snickered. “I wasn’t talking about the dress, Grey,” she stated, moving towards the refrigerator. Opening it, she pulled out a block of cheese.

  “Is that real cheese?”

  “Mmmmm hmmmm.” As she grated it over the cous cous, Emma figured he deserved it. Greyson gave up meat, he’d sacrificed cheese, and he’d been super supportive. “You also get real cheese in the mushroom wraps. It’s gooey and filled with heart clogging cholesterol,” she crooned, trying not to laugh.

  “You should write commercials.”

  Emma turned, meeting his lips for a kiss. It was warm and sensual, and her husband tasted like the spicy wine he had been drinking. Already, she was dizzy from him and the kiss.