“Wow, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed,” stated Croft. “Your assessment was right. He’s riding his daddy’s coattails.”
“Yeah, that’s really no big surprise. Let’s go find Amelia. I want to take a stroll down to the production area. I want to talk to the crew.”
Greyson dropped his arm around her back and rested his hand possessively on her behind. “Have I told you how much I adore watching you get all bossy with the suspects?” he asked, grabbing her ass and giving it a squeeze.
Emma laughed. “Yeah, I can tell.”
Amelia came out of the room. “I thought I heard you both. I’m glad to see you survived ‘Dyer the Terrible’,” she quipped. “Where to now?”
“You don’t have to do this, Amelia. We can just wander around and find everyone on our own,” Emma offered. “It’s got to be past the time you get to go home.”
The woman laughed. “Being Mr. Mason’s assistant means he owns me. I tend to work long hours, but the pay makes up for it.”
Emma shrugged. She’d rather sell her soul to Satan than work for Randall Mason, but live and let live was her motto. If the woman could handle it, then she deserved a medal.
“What’s the next stop?” Amelia asked.
“Do you have a seamstress on staff?” Croft inquired, knowing his wife wanted to dig into the clues that the killer had been leaving. The thimble, pins, alterations and zipped lips had to mean something.
It was the next logical place to start, now that they had Dyer taken care of so easily.
“We do. She’s a really nice woman. Margarite is her name and her work area is downstairs in the basement,” she offered. “Follow me. I’ll take you the long way down, so you can see some of the secrets in the Crassmount.”
“There are secrets here?” Emma asked, looking around.
Amelia nodded. “There are quite a few.”
* * *
Briggs grabbed his tablet, paperwork, and some fast food before heading to the hospital. His plan was to work and get through the data for Emma and Greyson as quickly as possible.
There was also this need to check in on Brynn to make sure she was doing fine. As he approached her hospital door, he heard a familiar voice, and it didn't make him happy at all.
Walking in, he found Max Pauley sitting in the chair he’d sat watch in for days, conversing with Brynn. The blood in his body boiled as he stared at the man.
She was the first one to notice him there. “Hey, Curtis, I missed you,” she said, cheerfully.
He was on the edge of losing it. So, he opted to not say a word. Walking towards her, he leaned down and dropped a kiss on her lips. “How are you feeling?” Briggs hoped the man in the room got a clue.
“I’m good. Max just stopped in to see me.”
The lab tech knew it was time to head out. “I’ll talk to you later, Brynn. Feel better and if you need anything, just let me know,” he said, walking away.
Yeah, over Curtis’s cold dead corpse would that ever happen. He’d make sure of that.
“Are you okay?” she asked, looking up at him. He didn't look so good.
“What did that asshole want?” he snapped, and then realized what he’d done. “Sorry.”
Brynn wasn’t getting it. “He just came in to apologize.”
“That’s funny. I told him to stay the hell away from you. Apparently, I wasn’t clear enough.”
“What?” she uttered incredulously. “When did you do that?”
He actually looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. Then, it occurred to him that she wasn’t aware that he paid the man a little visit. Brynn had remained in the car.
Curtis weighed his options, but since the cat was out of the bag, he decided to tell her.
The look on her face was of pure unadulterated horror. This threw a wrench into her plans in life. Her goal was to become captain, and she didn't need to have men causing drama or the rumors floating around behind her back that she had slept her way up the work ladder.
So much for being professional…
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over.
Briggs felt like an asshole. His anger made him dump that all over her, and it wasn’t a pretty shock. “Brynn baby, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to be so callous about it,” he soothed, trying to get her to forgive him.
“I can’t believe any of this is happening. What he did was bad enough,” she muttered, “but I can’t believe you threatened him too!”
He came over and sat beside her, taking her good hand in his. “At least I didn't gossip since we slept together too.” Briggs tried to cheer her up by joking around.
She started laughing.
Briggs continued. “If it makes you feel any better, I really would have kicked his ass for you. Will you forgive me?”
Brynn smiled more. “Maybe a little.”
Wiping a tear with his thumb, he looked into her eyes. “I brought us some dinner, and we can work on the case if you want.”
Her eyes lit up. “Now, you’re trying to bribe me.”
Briggs nodded and kissed her again, just because he wanted to feel her lips beneath his. If there was a sex God, he was making Curtis pay for all those one night stands. All he wanted was to climb into bed with her and work out days of pent up frustration.
In his mind he kept thinking about taking it slow.
Giving her time.
Being a gentleman like his boss.
With a deep regret, he pulled away from her lips. “I’ll catch you up to speed, and you can help me find a killer.”
Brynn was still thinking about the kiss. “This is like the best date night ever,” she offered, knowing what would make it even better.
He tried to not think about what he’d rather be doing. “Yeah, it is.”
* * *
Amelia led them to the bowels of Crassmount and gave them the scenic tour of the building. She showed them all the nooks and crannies of the building and the story behind it.
Emma was fascinated and loved hearing about the way it was in the early days of Vegas. Being married to a man who screamed old class, she had fallen in love with the myth and legend of years gone by.
“So, why the tour,” asked Emma, finally focusing on the fact that Randall Mason was giving her access that no one ever had before. His business was locked down tight and no one ever got a look behind the scenes. The man was like the mystical Oz, hiding behind the curtain. Only he knew the inner workings, and now so did they.
Amelia shrugged. “Mr. Randall informed me that you were to have anything you wanted, including my kidneys if you so required.”
She just stared at the woman.
Her husband’s hand went to her shoulder, pulling her body towards his protectively. Neither liked the idea that the man was willing to show them his cards.
It meant he was also willing to eliminate the loose ends, but again, they needed to get in the man’s circle.
“Here we are,” stated Amelia, opening the door. “Follow me,” she said as she led them through the rows and rows of costumes.
Emma couldn’t help but run her fingers over the fluffy feathers. She was after all female, and what little girl didn't want to play dress up as a kid?
“I could see you in feathers,” her husband whispered in her ear. “And nothing else,” he crooned.
The heat began rising in her body at his words. That sounded perfect to her. She’d have to look into it.
“Here we are,” stated Amelia. “Margarite, I have company for you,” she said.
“I have no time, hun. I’m behind and need to get this done or the boss will be over the edge,” the tiny woman answered, quickly stitching sequins back onto a costume.
“Mr. Mason has demanded that Detective Croft have anything she wants, including your time.”
The woman looked up. “Well, then, I guess this can wait.”
Amelia nodded. “I’ll be outside the door. Come on out when you’re ready to go to Mr. Mason,” she said, disappearing
into the sea of costumes. It was as if they swallowed her whole.
Emma offered the woman her hand. “I’m Detective Emma Croft and this is my husband, Director Greyson Croft.”
The woman took her hand. “Welcome to my kingdom,” she said laughing. “I’m the keeper of the pretty chaos.”
Glancing around, she understood what the woman meant. “This seems daunting,” she stated. “How do you keep track of it all?”
The woman tapped her head.
Emma laughed. The woman running the costume department had to be almost sixty. Her hair had gone gray, her skin had age spots and wrinkles, but her blue eyes held clarity. There was no doubt it was all up in her head.
“God help the person that takes over after me. They’re screwed,” she said, sitting and offering Emma the only chair.
She waited for her husband to sit, and she perched in his lap. Being that close to him made her feel calm and at ease, and Emma found that she’d needed that touch more and more lately.
Croft wrapped his arms around her waist as she leaned against him. “We appreciate you taking your time to help us,” he offered, watching the woman stare at them.
“It’s not a problem,” she paused. “I do have to say, I saw you both on the news and in today’s paper, and you two look to be exactly as the media portrays you.”
Emma didn't want to know. She could only imagine what the headlines said today.
“Do you have it with you?” Croft didn't have time to catch the Vegas news. It looked that he was going to have to start taking care of that, now that they were about to slip into the darkness together.
“I do,” she replied, pulling it from her purse.
Croft scanned the headlines. It wasn’t as bad as the previous one of ‘Beauty and the Fed’. This time, it was the two of them coming out of the vintage store.
“Break it to me gently, Grey,” she said, closing her eyes.
“Well, our nicknames have changed,” he offered, showing her the picture and headline.
‘Vegas has new royalty. All hail the King and Queen of the dead.’
Emma was mortified. “I swear that some people have too much time on their hands.”
The seamstress watched them closely.
Croft rubbed her back reassuringly. “It’s okay, honey.” He knew this was nothing. “May I keep this?” he asked the woman. “I’m starting a photo album.”
Margarite didn't mind.
Emma needed to stay focused. “How long have you been with Mr. Mason?” Emma inquired.
“I started with him thirty one years ago and have been here ever since,” she answered. “His old seamstress took off, and he picked me out of the blue. I barely knew how to tack a stitch. I had to learn on the job.”
“What happened to the woman before you?” Croft inquired, fingers drawing intricate patterns on Emma’s back to offer reassurance.
The woman looked around. “I only know what I heard, but she apparently caught Mr. Mason’s eye. When he wants something, he gets it.”
Croft tensed, his fingers stopped moving as he fought to gain his control. Those words alone made his heart pound in absolute terror. He was well aware the man would stop at nothing to get Emma.
“So, she was pursued and ran?”
The older woman shrugged. “You're guess is as good as mine. All I know is one day she was here, and then the next she wasn’t. The girls were all talking about it. Apparently, Bridgette ran out of the building in tears.”
All that was curious.
Emma only had one last avenue of questioning. “Does Dyer sleep with all the women here?”
The woman laughed. “He tries. The man is one hopped up hormone. I hear the women talking. He’s pretty forceful and generally takes what he wants. One might even say domineering.”
Once again, Croft’s had paused on her back. Was that how he was viewed?
Leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek to offer her husband reassurance. Emma already knew what he was thinking.
“Generally, Dyer chases someone and then gets in trouble. Mr. Mason then has to swoop in and clean up the mess.”
“That has to be tiring,” added Emma.
The woman shrugged. “Like father like son. Dyer learned his behavior from his father. Mr. Mason was a skirt chaser in his day too.”
That was good to know.
Emma believed she’d learned all she could from the seamstress. “Thank you for your time, Margarite. You had better get back to work. We won’t keep you.”
She didn't mind. “Stop in anytime.”
Halfway through the lines of costumes, Croft came to a stop. “I need to know something. When we’re together, do you think I’m too domineering, like Dyer?” He was afraid to ask, but yet he needed to know the truth.
She didn't know where that came from. “Grey, you’re not even close. You may be bossy, dominant, and aggressive in bed, but you didn't cross a line. Dyer degrades women and you make me feel nothing but love.”
Croft thought back to some of the things he’d said during sex to her and swallowed.
Placing her hands on his face, she stared into his eyes. “What happens between us isn’t demeaning, Grey. In bed you’re the strong one, and I like it. You haven’t hurt me with words or actions. In fact, the opposite is true. You’re doing everything right.”
That made him feel better. “I know I’m hard to handle sometimes.”
She giggled and leaned against the front of him. “I happen to like you as you are, babe.”
He played with the necklace around her neck and his blood warmed up. “Kiss me, Emma,” he demanded, all the want churning deep within him.
“Yes, Grey,” she answered as she wrapped her arms around his. How he could even think he was vile like Dyer? They were millions of miles apart.
His hand held her lips to his as he explored the depths of her mouth. When she willingly succumbed to his power, it made him crazy. This just felt absolutely right and always would. The woman he was kissing was made for him.
Finally releasing her, Emma stared up into his eyes with nothing but peace and calm on her face. “I feel safe when you go all bossy on me,” she admitted.
He grinned. “We better get going,” he murmured. “Before I show you how bossy I can be.”
When his hand grabbed her ass and gave an affectionate squeeze, she giggled. “Yes, Grey.”
They navigated their way to the wardrobe room door and stepped out into the basement. Amelia wasn’t there, so they took the moment to talk some more.
“We need that woman’s name. She might be the reason all this is happening.”
Croft agreed. “Mason will be the only way to get it.”
She knew he was right.
Just then, Amelia came around the corner. “Sorry, I had to visit the little girl’s room. Are you ready for dinner?” she asked, glancing down at her watch. “Mr. Mason had it catered, and it’s set up in his area.”
Emma knew the production was under way. Everything Randall Mason did was about the flair for drama. Little did he know that there were two more players on the stage. Before long, Emma would get in under his defenses and make him think it was all his idea. “Yes, we’re ready.”
She squeezed Greyson’s hand, and he did the same thing. Now, it was time to find the killer and really begin playing the odds in Vegas.
Sitting behind his desk, he eagerly anticipated their arrival. Looking around, he examined the scene he’d set. He’d taken the largest dressing room and made it his own. Why not? Since he had a never expiring contract with Harrison Tyler, the place was as good as his. It wasn’t like he was ever planning on leaving. The Crassmount was almost like home. Maybe he should let the little weasel Harrison off the hook, by offering to buy this little gem from him.
Nah, let him squirm.
He was well aware that the man was in financial ruin. He could buy it now or wait him out a little while longer. One way or another, the legendary building would be his.
&nb
sp; Randall Mason always got what he wanted.
At the knock, he rushed to the door. Opening it himself, he smiled warmly at the woman standing there. She was the spitting image of his first wife. She had the same eyes, hair and freckled nose that he’d once been madly in love with as a young man. When his gaze first landed on her, he knew that she was sent by his departed Aria as a sign.
All these years, he filled his life with the art of the deal, and now, he had maybe a decade remaining. It was time to find that peace. She was his sign of a new era in his existence.
“Welcome my dear,” he said, leading her in by her hand. “Please Director Croft, come in and join us. I hope that you’re hungry.”
Emma allowed him to escort her in and away from her husband’s touch. Because of what was coming, she tolerated it. Had there been any other option, it wouldn’t be happening.
“Thank you for the invitation,” she said easily. “I appreciate the tour of this building and your production company.”
“I’m only glad to help you. I told you Emma that anything I have is yours and you but only need to ask.”
“Anything else, Mr. Mason?” Amelia asked from the doorway.
The man waved his hand to dismiss her. “See you tomorrow at ten for our meeting,” he stated. “Don’t be late.”
Croft saw where Dyer got his manners from. “Ms. Cross, thank you for your help. We greatly appreciated it.”
The woman nodded as she backed out of the room and closed the door. Finally, her day was over and she could escape.
Greyson Croft silently observed the man who was leading his wife into the room. He placed her at the table that he had brought in and was doting on her a great deal. It was befuddling to say the least.
“Director, please have a seat next to your beautiful wife,” Mason said, taking another place opposite them.
Croft did just that as he sat beside her. He also went one step further and slid the place setting closer towards Emma. Immediately, he took her hand in his as they waited the man to begin his game.
Picking up his phone, he made a call. “Now, please,” he ordered.
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 49