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

by Morgan Kelley

  Slowly, Greyson relaxed into it as he enjoyed his wife against his body. It calmed him and offered reassurance that she was his and no one else’s. Breaking away from the kiss, he stared into her eyes. “Thank you for what you did. You didn’t have to tell him about the necklace.”

  Emma nuzzled her cheek against his chin, taking in his scent. “I don’t care if the world knows, babe. I love my husband and no one will ever come close.” It was true. She’d married a dominant man in a high power job. She was swimming in the testosterone pool, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. Her husband was the man for her, and always would be.

  “Want to hear a secret, Greyson?” she asked, staring into his soul. “I’ll never admit it again, so this is a one shot deal.”

  He couldn’t imagine what undisclosed information she could be holding back from him. It made him nervous to think of all the possibilities. “Okay, Em. Tell me.”

  She placed her lips by his ear and spoke. “The scent of cigar smoke mixed with your cologne turns me on. Watching you be powerful is a rush.” Then, she ran her teeth down his earlobe as if to punctuate her need for him.

  Her words excited and anchored him to Emma. “God, I love you,” he whispered, knowing how lucky he had gotten the day he was sent to Celestia. When he finally pulled away, he was back in control. “Here I thought you hated it. I really thought you were going to lose your mind. I mean- you make me drink green grass shakes to stay healthy, so I was pretty sure you were going to snap and comment.”

  “I’d never say a word in front of your peers, Grey. I know how important perception is in your job.”

  That offered him so much comfort. Yes, he was bossy, but when it came to his wife, he’d back down in a heartbeat. “So, you don’t mind?”

  Emma offered a piece of her childhood. “When I was a kid, my dad smoked them all the time. The scent has this lulling property, and then seeing you hold one gets me all hot and bothered. I’m not telling you to pick up the habit and do it daily. I’m just saying I don’t mind if you have one once in a while. It’s a boy’s club thing and that I get, Director.”

  He laughed. “When you snipped my cigar and lit it, I wanted to jump you. It was sexy. It was very old school having my woman take care of me.” He admitted his own secret back. “I know it’s sexist, but it was still very erotic for me.” This time, it was a familiar hand that squeezed her ass. Immediately, her body reacted.

  Before she could say anything, there was laugh.

  “You two really can’t get enough of each other. Maybe you will only marry once, Croft,” stated Mason. “May I borrow your wife for a little while? The commissioner said she needed to talk to me about work, and I’m impressed enough by her and you that I’ll accommodate the request.”

  Croft wasn’t happy that Emma would be going off with the man on her own, but he saw the look on her face. She wanted him to trust and give her this moment to do her job. It was only fair. Emma had given him so much the entire evening.

  “Okay, Emma, honey,” he offered as he dropped another kiss on her lips, proprietarily. “Get your partner and do your thing. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

  He backed away and his eyes never left her face until the last moment. Then, they were on the man beside her, giving him a silent warning of what would happen if a line was crossed.

  “Your husband is intense,” Mason admitted, leading her over to her partner, who was still with the agent.

  “It’s why I adore and love him,” she offered.

  “There’s a lot of fake in Vegas, and I've seen it all, but you two work well together. I’ll admit that,” he stated, motioning at Brynn. “Let’s have a drink and discuss what’s going on in my city.”

  Emma wanted to laugh at his terminology, but she didn't want to piss him off before getting him to talk. He led them both to a private room as he motioned to a waiter to follow with drinks. “I want to know what’s going on with this case you’re working,” he stated.

  “That’s not how it works, Mr. Mason, and you know it. If you think you can heavy hand me into giving you what you want, because you’re friends with my boss, it won’t work.”

  He laughed. “Ladies, have a seat and we can continue to discuss this.”

  Brynn was going to let her partner run this one. Mason was slippery as a snake, and she didn't want to get in her way. The last thing she needed was to trip her up. Mason seemed focused on Emma, and somehow she believed it was because of Greyson Croft.

  When they sat, he continued. “I’m the biggest contributor to your boss’s interests. What I say goes.”

  Emma crossed her legs and took the drink. Staring at him, she didn't flinch. Her partner looked more nervous. “I don’t scare easy, Mr. Mason.”

  “You lie, Emma. You ran from Philadelphia. You were terrified, so don’t bullshit the king of the game.”

  Apparently, she was right. The man did his research and knew everything in her past. Well this little tidbit sucked. Emma fought to get past it.

  The blood wasn’t coming back, she wouldn’t let it.

  There was no way she’d let him terrorize her with her secret fears.

  “I took a hiatus, and I’m back. Don’t look into it too much. There isn’t any hidden meaning behind it.”

  He drank his scotch. “We could work together and make this easier or...” He let it go, knowing she was smart enough to understand the meaning.

  Oh yeah, the bastard was ready to play some shady games with her. The man was throwing down and waiting to see her next move.

  Emma stood. “I don’t have someone gunning for me, so I don’t need to play a game here, Mr. Mason. If you think you can handle it, have at it. I won’t sell my badge to you in fear you’ll tell the world about my past. I own it, so knock yourself out.”

  He measured her up. “You watched your own brother die? What was that like? From what I dug up, someone slit his throat, and he bled out. The report also showed you were assaulted. Did he rape you, Emma? How does one get past watching the last person in her family die at her feet? What happened, Detective? Couldn’t you save him?”

  The barrage of questions was a test.

  The blood began creeping back as Emma fought to not think about it and not give him the gratification of knowing her cage was rattled. She focused on Greyson in her mind and pushed back the flood of fear.

  Brynn wanted to help her partner, but didn't know what to say or do to make the man stop. On the outside, she was holding steady, but no one was this strong. Inside, she had to be cracking under the verbal assault.

  “Come on, Detective Westmore. Mr. Mason believes he has it all under control. He doesn’t need our help. I mean, hey, I’m sure he knows why three women in his shows have turned up on his doorstep.”

  They both put their drinks down and headed from the room.

  Outside, Emma and Brynn found both men standing with the commissioner. When they saw them leaving the office, the Feds knew it didn't go well.

  Emma pointed to the door, signaling her intent to leave. There was no way in hell she would let him intimidate her or threaten her with veiled promises. There were ways around him, and Emma would find them.

  “Detective, wait!”

  Outside the door, she turned to find Randall Mason behind her. He moved between the women and down the steps of the front of the venue. “I apologize for coming across as being rude. I think we can work through this. I needed to see the kind of cop you were, before I trusted you. Vegas is full of phonies.”

  Emma said nothing. She noticed that the commissioner had pulled her husband away to run interference for Randall Mason.

  “Say what you need to say, and then I’m out of here,” she stated, icily.

  “You’re tough, Detective, I’ll give you that. I can honestly say I have no idea who’s causing all this. I’m not loved here, by the masses. It could be a number of people.”

  “Gee, really?” It was all she said as her face stayed neutral.

 
“I need the help of a really good cop.”

  Brynn turned her back to the crowd and tried to block the view of the photographers. The air was filled with the clicking as they stood not far from the limo pick up spot.

  “What do you know, Mr. Mason?” Emma asked. Surely, the Vegas kingpin had to suspect something.

  Before he could answer her question, there were screams, and someone yelled gun.

  The air filled with three fast shots, the pop, pop, pop caused chaos and mayhem.

  Emma’s training kicked in as she dove onto the older man, taking them both to the ground. Looking to her left, she saw that her partner had also landed not far away.

  Hell broke loose around them as the crowds stampeded and people began screaming in panic.

  Emma stared down into the man’s face as her body shielded his. “Are you okay?” she shouted over the chaos.

  He nodded as a look of total fear crossed his features.

  Someone had just tried to kill him.

  Emma could feel something wet and glanced down. There was blood on the concrete and she knew it wasn’t a close call.

  Her old enemy death was back.

  Croft heard the sound of gunfire and spun towards Emma as she stood in the open. Everything moved in slow motion as he watched her shove Mason towards the ground. The planter behind her head shattered as more proof of just how close the bullet had come.

  He pulled his gun and raced towards his wife. She was kneeling beside her partner with her hands pressed to the right side of her chest.

  Briggs slid to a stop beside him, a look of horror on his face. “BRYNN!” he shouted.

  “Call for an ambulance!” Emma ordered, looking over her shoulder at Mason. “Get inside and stay around people you trust or lock yourself in your damn office!”

  He scurried away, along with others racing into the building.

  Croft crouched beside his wife and pulled out his phone to call for help. When he looked down at his wife’s partner, she didn't look so good.

  “How bad is it?” he whispered as he tried to not to panic his partner further.

  Emma didn't respond.

  What could she say? Even she feared the truth.

  ~ Chapter Fourteen ~

  The killer stood there and was shocked by what was happening. Some maniac had just destroyed the best part of the evening. Tonight it was supposed to be about revenge.

  Not this!

  The perfectly orchestrated production was now a chaotic mess!

  Watching the horde of plain clothed cops converge on the shooter, there was a moment of relief. Had the murder been committed, it wouldn’t have been pretty. Who knew all these police were hiding in the crowd of onlookers and media?

  Then the thought occurred.

  This all might work out anyway. Now everyone was distracted and would believe this fool was the one committing the crimes.

  This bought time and a needed distraction.

  A smile crossed the twisted face as the plan simply needed to be altered and tweaked. The cops were close, the FBI included. They obviously knew more than they were letting on in the media.

  It was time to up the game and give them more to play with to keep busy.

  They thought they were so smart, but now this gun toting wackjob was about to make their job harder.

  Perfect.

  Everyone’s guard was down and now Randall Mason could really pay.

  * * *

  Emma continued to keep pressure on her partner’s chest. It was the right side, so at least her heart was safe. Bleeding was going to be the big issue for now. If the ambulance could clear the scattering people, Brynn might have a chance.

  Staring down into her face, she was honest. “It’s not pretty, but you’re tougher than this. You better stick around!”

  She nodded as she held onto Briggs’s hand for dear life. She had heard the popping, and then felt the pain burn through her body. Trying to keep her breathing calm, she knew her heart needed to pump slow and not fast.

  “Is my dress ruined?” she mumbled as she tried to get Briggs to relax. The man looked like he was going to lose his mind.

  Emma nodded. “That’s one hell of a stain and hole. I think we’re going to have to buy you a new one,” she answered. Emma’s was destroyed too from kneeling in Brynn’s blood.

  The screams of the ambulance were audible over the crowd, and then there was the race of men carrying a stretcher.

  Moving out of their way, Emma pulled Curtis back. “Go and stay with her. We’ll meet you there as soon as we can get away.”

  He went to move and his boss stopped him. “Give me your gun. I don’t want Emma unprotected,” he said, taking Briggs firearm. “She’s tough and this is nothing,” he said, forcing his partner stare into his face by placing his hand on the back of his neck. It was very reminiscent of something a big brother would do. “Do you hear me?”

  Briggs nodded and raced after the stretcher.

  Croft pulled the pocket square from his tux and handed it to Emma. She was staring at her hands, and it reminded him of another time in their not so distant past. “Here, honey,” Greyson offered.

  Taking it, she wiped away as much blood as possible, but the staining was already there. “I need to see the man they have in custody.”

  He agreed as he held out Curtis’s gun and the badge he’d had the fortitude to tuck into his pocket before leaving the condo. “Here,” Greyson watched her stare at it blankly. It wasn’t lost on him she was holding on by a thread. After a minute, she seemed to resurface.

  Emma pulled out the chain from behind the badge and dropped it around her neck. The familiar weight of the gun in her hand offered her reassurance.

  Together they crossed the venue to Captain Ford, who was standing over a man lying on the pavement. When he glanced up, he wanted a report on his detective. “Is Westmore okay?”

  They didn't have an answer for that. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  More camera flashes went off.

  Croft was getting pissed. “Anyone not involved in getting him patted down, get the God damn media back!” he roared.

  Emma needed to see who shot at them. She needed to know if it was all over. “Roll him.”

  When they did, she was surprised. Staring up at her was a disorientated Nick Quinn.

  Crouching beside him, she needed answers. “Why Nick?”

  He stared up at her. “He threatened me and made me call off the lawsuit! Someone had to teach him he isn’t the strongest man in the city!”

  It didn't make sense. Emma got the part where he wanted to kill Mason, but where did the women come into play?

  “We tagged him with this- just too late,” stated Detective Bristol. He held the firearm by the tip, trying to not touch too much of it for fingerprinting.

  “We’re bringing him in for questioning.” Ford said, staring at Emma. “Since this is your case and he’s probably the killer, the interview is all yours,” he paused, “unless you’re too shaken up.”

  Emma wouldn’t let it take her down. “I’ll get the situation under control here and be in as soon as I can. Let him sit. I need to see if my partner lives or dies, then we can charge him.”

  Croft stood protectively beside her. She was wearing vintage Vegas and blood, and he couldn’t be more proud. His woman was tough and would get through this, no matter what. Then there was the wave awareness as his mind replayed the explosion of the flower urn that sat right beside her head. The bullet had missed her by inches. There could have been a very different outcome.

  The captain nodded and pointed towards the patrol cars. “Get him out of here.” Focusing on Emma, he spoke, “We’ll have the undercover detectives get this mess under control. Good job with this case. It looks like you closed it.”

  Already, the wariness was brewing as she and her husband crossed the street to re-access the building. The whole thing wasn’t sitting right. Something about all this was rubbing her the wrong way, and then ther
e was the weight on her shoulders. Had her partner not been right in front of her, that bullet would have had her name all over it- except it would have been the left side of her chest that took the impact.

  “Director Croft! Director Croft!” screamed a reporter that had broken away from the crowd. “Can you or your wife tell us what’s going on? Is this the showgirl killer?”

  Again, pictures snapped around them. He took his wife’s free hand in his and ignored their questions as they headed back up the stairs. He didn't have an answer for them, but if he were going to guess, he’d say no.

  It didn't work for him. He’d been doing this a long time, and a killer didn't just change it up from the dramatic act of removing eyes and ears to a single bullet.

  This made him edgy.

  Once inside, the police commissioner, his wife and Randall Mason all rushed towards them. Thomas Booker spoke first. “Are you both okay?” his eyes roamed from Emma’s blood stained dress, to her hands, and finally her face.

  Croft answered for them. “We’re good, but Detective Westmore isn’t. Can you make sure she’s getting the best treatment at the hospital, Tom? You know, lean on them a little for us?”

  He patted his friend on the shoulder. “Certainly, son.” Pulling out his phone, he moved off to do his thing. He knew people on the board of trustees, and he’d make sure his detective had a private room and anything she needed.

  Trudy stared in horror at Emma’s appearance. “Dear, you’re a mess! Your dress is ruined and your hair is a wreck!”

  For some reason that pissed Emma off and put her over the edge. That was the least of her damn concerns at the moment. She was about to rip off a reply- one that wouldn’t be complimentary when her husband interjected in her defense.

  “I don’t think my wife is concerned about her dress, Trudy,” he chided. “She has other things on her mind like nearly getting killed and her partner possibly dying.”