Immediately, she relaxed when she saw what was in his hand. “Thank you, I appreciate you chasing me down,” she answered, walking towards him to get the letter.
“It’s no problem,” he replied, handing it to her.
Then, recognition dawned on her.
She’d seen him before at work.
In fact…
As soon he saw the telltale sign in her eyes, he struck. The object in his right hand swung out, clocking her on the side of the head. It had been close, but once again, he’d managed to subdue the ‘naughty’ one.
“What’s that, Tania? You want to offer me a reward for my generosity?”
He started laughing as he dragged her body to his trunk.
“I accept. How about I take you somewhere quiet, use your body, and then take your life in exchange? You can meet my other pretty friend that’s waiting for us.”
Of course, there was no reply.
“You’ve been a wicked girl, Tania. That’s okay, because it’s the season to forgive, forget, and celebrate. We’re going to a little party at my place. I hope you don’t mind the last minute invitation.”
He stared down at her, lying prone in the trunk. “Welcome to my Christmas fantasy.”
Slamming the trunk, he hopped in. Now, it was time to get her back to his place.
Tonight, he had another unforgettable date.
* * *
Croft had just sat down behind his desk and was shrugging out of his suit jacket and tie when his intercom buzzed.
“Yes, Linda?”
“Your wife left you lunch on your desk. Emma requested that you eat it, and not the food from the vending machines. Also, your boss is on line one.”
He let out a breath. “Which one?”
“Ethan Blackhawk.”
“Thank you, Linda,” he replied, ignoring the food and picking up the phone. The man must have ESP, because he swore that as soon as the dust settled he was going to call him with an update.
“Director Croft,” he said into the phone, while leaning back in his chair. There was already one hell of a headache brewing between his eyes.
“How’s it going there, Greyson?” came the voice over the line.
There was no missing the tone, and the fact that the man didn't call just to randomly check up on him. If Ethan Blackhawk was on the phone, there was a damn good reason. They had their conference calls, and then there were meetings, but unless there was an issue, this was an aberration.
“I’ve got a wackjob that’s killing women, a city that’s on the verge of hell in a hand basket, and I blew off my wife to deal with the media bullshit.”
There was laughter on the phone. “Well, I can attest to all of that. It’s been stirred up here as well. I think it’s just the time of the year. You’ll get it under control. I don’t doubt that. Now, what really concerns me is that you blew off your wife. I hope you have a comfortable couch.”
He never considered the possibility. Would Emma really send him there for this infraction? Then, he thought back to the entire thing.
“Shit,” he muttered.
There was more laughter. “I’m sorry, but you won’t be the first or last man who rides the sofa due to screwing up. I’ve seen it a few times myself.”
Greyson was curious about that. He’d heard rumors that not only was he married to Elizabeth, but also shared her with his brother. Croft couldn’t confirm it either way. How did you bring that up in a casual conversation?
“Hang in there, Greyson. It’ll pass. I’m sure she knows how tough your job is in ‘Sin City’.”
“I’ll make it up to her later,” he answered, offering himself the reassurance. Then, he paused before continuing, “Are you calling about the other situation?” Croft was referring to the one where they believed that Commissioner Tom Booker was offering up bribes for Randall Mason.
If there was a kingpin in Vegas, it was Mason. He was the head producer of most of the shows and was worth half a billion dollars. The man had more people in his pocket than Jimmy Hoffa. For all Croft knew, the gangster was buried in the man’s back yard.
“Yeah, anything?”
Croft thought about it. “No, but we did get an invite to the annual Christmas soiree that Randall throws every year. I didn't want to go, but I figured if they were going to bait me, that would be a likely place.”
“Just keep your eyes and ears open. If something’s going to go down, it’ll be there.”
There was something bothering him. “Do you have me under surveillance?”
That caught him off guard. “You mean out on the street or in the office?”
Lately, he’d had the feeling he and Emma were being followed. “Yes, both.”
Blackhawk didn't like that the man believed he was being tracked. “I planted a couple of agents in your midst, but no one outside the building.”
He was okay with the agents, because he understood why. If he got sucked in, Blackhawk would have people there to back him up. When he’d received transfer papers a couple of weeks ago, he suspected that was the true reason. There was a government freeze on hiring, and he didn't believe it was a miracle sent to help him through the backlog.
“Okay.”
“You might be under their surveillance,” he offered. “Watch your back and be careful.”
Croft wasn’t concerned with his wellbeing. He was well aware that if Mason struck, it would be at Emma. That was his only weak spot. “It’s not me I’m scared shitless about. I fear for my wife’s safety,” he stated unabashedly. At the beginning of it all, Croft made his boss promise she’d be safe.
That was the only reason he agreed to do this.
“I have eyes on her at work.”
He relaxed marginally. “How?”
Blackhawk debated on how much to tell him. “I reached out and pulled a few strings. She’s being watched as much as possible. I can’t send any of our people in, but one of the detectives there is an old friend I grew up with, and he’s watching out for Mason and the commissioner. I get an alert whenever he sees them around her.”
The knot loosened a little, allowing him the chance to finally catch his breath. “Thank you, Ethan.”
The man knew that fear. He’d worked side by side with the mother of all trouble magnets. If something bad was going to chase them, it was generally Elizabeth leading the race. Although, the last time they were on assignment, it was he, who almost lost his life. It still had him rattled to his core, and if it weren’t for his family, he’d be falling apart.
“I’ll call you after the party and let you know if we have anyone tugging at the line.”
“Watch your back, Greyson. Keep your eyes open and don’t let your guard down.”
The man didn't plan on it. He knew his boss was speaking from experience. He’d recently let his guard down and was taken. From what Croft heard, it hadn’t been pretty either. Blackhawk had just come back to work after a sabbatical. Greyson wasn’t sure after what he’d lived through, if two weeks would have been nearly enough. The man had endured hours of torture and being buried alive.
“Talk to you later, Ethan,” he said, hanging up the phone. Immediately, his eyes went to the lunch sitting on his desk. He pulled it towards him and removed the food from the bag. Emma had grabbed him a few pitas stuffed with roughage. It wasn’t like he should be surprised. Was he expecting a burger?
Then, he found the note as he began eating.
Sorry I was in the way. I’ll see you at home later.
~Emma.
Well shit!
Didn't that make him feel like an even bigger asshole? Here, he invited her to lunch, before leaving for work, only to make her feel like she was bothering him.
Okay, he needed to fix this one and fast. If Emma was feeling like a distraction to him, he was giving off the wrong impression and that needed to be adjusted fast. This was a job, but she was his everything. Hurting the love of his life wasn’t even an option for him.
In his head, he beg
an planning their evening. He’d make it up to her.
Some flowers.
Romantic music.
He’d even cook her dinner for a change, before making out with her for hours on the couch.
He popped the last of the pita into his mouth, planning to call her and talk for a few moments before the next fire popped up that needed his attention. He had just began to dial her number when there was a knock on his door.
“Come in,” he answered with the receiver still in his hand.
“Boss, you have to come out here! The media is talking about this killer, and we look like a bunch of assholes two days into the assignment,” stated Tessa Brass.
“How bad?” he asked, getting distracted.
She laughed. “You’re the head clown, and apparently we’re all involved in a massive cover up. The reporter spilled the beans on the card before we could get to him to persuade him not to do it.”
Well shit. This was the last thing he needed at the moment. That was one of the key pieces of evidence that would help them find and stop the lunatic.
He dropped the phone and rushed away, allowing his personal life to fall behind.
It wasn’t intentional.
Sometimes, these things just happened.
* * *
Back at his place, he carried the bound woman into the room where the other was locked away. He needed to check on her and make sure that she didn't escape or worse yet, accidentally strangle herself to death. Soon enough, that would be his job.
Right now, ‘nice’ was tied and chained to the old radiator. He’d taken extra precautions, just in case.
As the door opened, there was a moment where she stared up at him, hopefully. Immediately, the fear returned as the tears began staining her face.
“I’m sorry little one,” he stated, patting her on the cheek as he chained the other to the other side. “Tonight, I have plans for you both, and you can’t be let go.”
She made muffled sounds of weeping.
“I promise I won’t let you suffer. I’ll make sure it’s painless for you.”
He dropped a kiss on top of her head, pleased that she didn't try to strike out at him. He’d obviously chosen well. This woman was his ‘nice’.
He wrapped the short chain around the other woman’s neck a few times, giving her very little room to move. If she pulled hard enough, she’d harm herself.
Somehow, he wouldn’t put it past her. ‘Naughty’ could be quite unpredictable.
“I’ll be back later, and we’ll wrap all this up.” Then, he laughed at his own little joke, and how he’d planned on more red ribbons and leaving them as presents for the FBI.
Walking from the room, he was nothing but excited for what was coming.
Tonight, he’d have two more gifts and the FBI would have a bigger mystery that they wouldn’t even come close to solving.
* * *
He stood in front of the person who hired him. It was a side job, and it was earning him a good chunk of money too. He wasn’t going to ask questions, and he certainly wasn’t going to demand answers. Here in Vegas, if you were going to contract out, you didn't want to know too much. Those who pried into the business of others ended up buried neck deep in the desert until the vultures and heat did them in.
All he wanted was the name, address, and degree of how far they wanted to take the job.
Once done, the money would be placed in the front seat of his car while he was at work, and he would be on his merry way.
It was too good to pass up. Twenty-five grand under the table was a good chunk of change and would buy lots of things for him to lead a more comfortable life. Maybe he’d get a new motorcycle to catch him some ladies.
“Do you understand what our client wants?” the person asked, hoping the man wouldn’t be a waste of time.
He nodded. “You want me to take the woman, and keep her busy for a few hours until I let her escape.”
“Correct and by keep her busy, you’re not to touch her! Are we perfectly clear?”
Yeah, he got it- hands off the merchandise. “Where do you want me to set up the escape?”
It really didn't matter. This was all about scaring the hell out of them both and to make them see that they were but ants under the boot of the all-powerful beast. Lately, the director was cracking down on ventures that he had no business touching. Someone needed to be taught a valuable lesson. “Anywhere, but you need to make sure there’s a way for her to locate assistance. The boss doesn’t want her dead, only shaken up.”
“Should I rough her up?” he asked excitedly. He’d like nothing more than to give her some bumps and bruises.
“Not too much. We’re not saying you have to be gentle, but don’t damage her too badly. We want Director Croft scared, not on a killing spree. The man is a wild card.”
He nodded. “What else?”
“Her husband is handling the serial killer abducting women right now. The boss needs it to resemble that, but not too much. The Crofts are smart. Greyson won’t believe it was the same person who took her for long. Eventually, he’ll figure it all out, and understand we aren’t to be screwed with, and he’ll get the warning.”
That he got too.
“So, strip her down to her underthings, take her shoes and make her fend for herself that way.”
“It gets cold at night now,” he stated, feeling sorry for her. He’d seen her around and there was that touch of guilt.
“If you’re getting too soft, then we can utilize someone else’s services,” the person stated easily. “It won’t look good for you when your boss finds out you’re on the take.”
It was the only threat he needed. It wiped the sympathy right away.
“Make sure she escapes exactly as you were instructed. There can be no error. Emma Croft is tough. She’ll make it to safety and get back to her honorable husband.”
“I’ll handle it. I’m going to grab her today before the holiday.”
“Before you go, there’s one last thing.”
He was handed a bag with a note in it.
“Place this on her seat with her badge, weapon, and purse. We want him to start panicking immediately. The more terror he feels, the better. Greyson Croft has become a thorn in our sides, and we’re planning on plucking his beloved rose from the bush.”
“I’m going to have to knock her out. It has to be fast and quiet,” he added. “If I’m grabbing her from the precinct parking lot, I can’t screw around.”
“That’s fine. Just don’t crush her damn skull like the last one! We want her scared, not in the morgue. If you jack this up, we’ll have a bigger issue. No one wants Greyson Croft on a rampage. He’s a force that no one wishes to reckon with in Vegas.”
“I have it under control.”
“Be sure, or it’ll be you that gets tossed to him as the sacrificial lamb.”
He nodded. “No worries. I got it all under control.”
* * *
Lunch time had come to an end.
Emma ran some errands and picked up some last minute presents for her husband. Her shopping was officially over. In fact, everything was wrapped and safely dropped back at their condominium and hidden away in their spare room.
They had both agreed to one of the closets in each of the rooms not being utilized to hide things. She’d promised not to peek, and so did he. So far, she believed he was being a good boy. Then again, if he really wanted to know, he could pull up her credit card statement, be sneaky and all FBI-like.
She didn't put it past him at all.
Pulling into the precinct, it was obviously busy. Normally her parking spot would be open, but someone had parked in it. Now, she needed to drive to the back of the lot just to find a place for her massive SUV.
Oh well, the walk would do her good.
Hustling through the rows of cars, she entered the building, only to be assaulted by the sounds of chaos. The desk sergeant was trying to contain the mayhem, but it was spilling over everywhere. Ev
ery bench was taken by a suspect. It looked like vice had a productive day on the strip.
There were about twelve hookers dressed as elves and Mrs. Claus. They were even wearing strategic bows adhered to their skimpy outfits. It was the pimp dressed as Santa, who made her finally snicker. Yeah, Vegas was an unusual place to call home.
Heading through, she waved at a few detectives who she had become friendly with and stopped to grab a cup of coffee from the machine that made the least tar-like brew. After three months, it had grown on her, and she’d learned which watering hole to call home.
Who needed the layer in her stomach stripped away from a drink, when work would surely take care of the same thing? An ulcer, as her consolation prize for the day, was the least of her problems since having her husband blow her off.
Most of the detectives in her squad room either were at their desks, processing information on their cases, or off on leave. Soon, she’d be one of them. Emma was planning on burning some down time and taking a couple days away from the grind. Maybe she’d go hang out at her husband’s office a couple hours a day, just to see him. Then there was the possibility of decorating their condominium too.
Both had been so busy, but now that her last case was closed, there’d be plenty of time.
Seeing her partner across the room, she noticed Brynn Westmore was still working on the paperwork to wrap the assignment up. Their final case consisted of a prostitute ending up in the morgue. She had tried to intervene between a john and the pimp who wanted his money. Ultimately, solving it wasn’t all that difficult, since the pimp had the fortitude to wear twinkle lights imbedded in his hat for the holiday. They had enough witnesses to point him out when he tried to run. Why he believed he could hide in the dark alley while flashing like a sign was beyond her.
People were sometimes completely clueless.
Then again, considering some of the cases they’d picked up since Thanksgiving, this one was a mild one.
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 4
