There were more screams of sirens as three more Denalis pulled in with their tech van.
Ford handed him a pair as he held the evidence bag in his other hand.
Greyson slipped into them and took the bag to the hood of the Navigator. Carefully, he slipped it open and pulled it out. He knew once he read it that his life would forever be changed.
Director Croft,
I have your wife. Welcome to Vegas.
The bile rose up as his hands shook. The profanities ripped from his lips, causing everyone to step back. No one expected the tirade from the generally calm director.
There was only one person brave enough to step closer, and it was the man’s partner. He reached Croft and took the note to slide it back into the bag. He passed it off to Max Pauley and took control of the situation. Curtis worked enough scenes to know what to do. The man over the edge had trained him well.
“Everyone is to get away from this area with the exception of Detective Westmore and Captain Ford. We have a crime scene, and we need the lab team to get in here and start working. The clock is ticking, and we don’t have much time.”
Briggs remembered from Quantico that the window of opportunity was between eight and twelve hours. Then the chances of getting Emma back alive were slim to none.
Croft opened the passenger side of the vehicle, figuring there would be very little contamination. Inside, he found her purse and the contents all over the place. There was her lipstick, the tablet he had given her to contact him while he was busy at work, and her cell. “I’m checking her phone,” he said, picking it up carefully. Unlocking it, he stared down at the last thing his wife had been doing before she’d been abducted.
Oh god, it was a message to him.
He read it and his eyes filled with tears. Hitting send, he wanted it for his own, just in case. Then, he had to force himself to stop thinking like that. He would get her back.
Greyson had to find her.
The reality that his wife was gone, broke something in him. He put the phone down to walk over to Emma’s partner.
“Tell me everything,” he demanded, his voice choked with emotion over what she was enduring at that very moment.
Ford stood there, listening to the entire thing. He could see the pain all over the man’s face, and as much as he disliked the Feds, he’d never wish this on anyone. Emma Croft’s only sin was she married a man in the FBI. She was a damn good detective, and he would do anything to help get her back.
Hopefully, when they found her she would be alive.
Brynn relayed it all, giving precise details and not leaving anything out. She couldn’t. Already, they all were thinking the exact same thing.
It was more than likely that they would never see her breathing again.
Croft analyzed it all, building a timeline in his head, and starting to figure out how he’d work through all of this. There was no way he wasn’t going to be involved in finding his wife.
Then, he’d be instrumental in searching for the person who dared to take her.
If anything happened to her, there would be nothing to stop him from tracking the animal down and destroying him. There was a line crossed when you touched a man’s woman. If one copper curl was touched on her head, there’d be holy hell to pay.
“We have blood,” stated a tech, trying to keep his voice neutral as he tried to not freak-out his boss any further.
Croft whirled around. The look on his face said it all. It was a heady brew of hate, anger, and pure unadulterated loathing towards the person who did this.
Oh, yes, there was going to be more blood spilled before this was over. “I want all evidence processed in the next two hours. We don’t have the luxury of waiting a day. If we don’t find my wife by tonight, we’ll be working on locating her body.”
He said it with so much emotion that they all got it. This was priority one for the day. The team knew what he was demanding and begging them to do. Greyson Croft needed all the stops pulled out.
Max Pauley took the blood sample and tried to be reassuring. “I’ll take these back to the lab and start now. The team will carry back everything as they pull it and we’ll start working on finding Emma,” he reassured his boss.
“Thank you,” he replied, his heart breaking into so many little pieces at the prospects of what may come. By nightfall, they might find her, but would she be alive?
How could he live past this moment without her?
“Greyson,” Briggs said, touching his arm. “Go back to the office. I’ll run it here. Media is circling and you don’t need them to see you here looking like this. They’ll have it plastered all over the news that the ‘king’ lost his ‘queen’.”
Croft glanced up and stared at the cars pulling into the lot. “I need this done right, Curtis. I need to find my wife or I’m as good as dead.”
The man got it as he watched his boss walk away. There was no doubt in his mind what would happen.
Greyson Croft would live long enough to avenge Emma’s death, and then he’d likely follow.
There wasn’t a single doubt in his mind, and that scared the hell out of him.
Without his heart, Greyson Croft wouldn’t be able to go on.
* * *
Emma didn't know where she was, or what had happened. What she was blatantly aware of was the splitting headache and distinct scent of blood. Since there was a hood over her head and tape over her mouth, it didn't take a genius to know she knew she was in big trouble.
Making a mental check of her body, there was nothing broken, but her legs were tied together and her arms were behind her back.
Shit, this was worse than bad.
The cop in Emma kicked in, as she attempted to listen to everything around her while not making a sound. Whoever took her wasn’t near her and that meant she had some time to get her bearings.
The last thing that she remembered was walking out to her car, typing a text message to her husband, and then a pain in her skull. In fact, the pain was still there.
By now, she hoped someone was looking for her. Not that she thought they’d find her. How could they?
There were two things racing through her mind that made her incredibly concerned. The first was she prayed this wasn’t the ‘Naughty or Nice’ killer. If it was, then her fate was pretty much sealed. Since Greyson had been working at home the last few days, she’d seen the case file. That alone gave her reason to be very afraid.
The second thing, and possibly most important had to do with her husband. If she were to die, please don’t let it be Greyson who found her. All Emma wanted was for him to be spared of that one thing.
Her eyes filled with tears, as she tried not to let the emotion overwhelm her. Oh, her poor husband. When he found out she was missing, this was going to tear him apart. His big fear in life was waking up and finding her gone.
This was going to be a million times worse.
Emma truly believed he’d never survive the heartbreak.
A sniffle escaped against her will, and then there was sound in the room beside her. The hood was tugged free and a horrible smelling rag was put over her face before she could get a look at her captor.
Everything spun, as Emma realized what was happening. The man was using chloroform to knock her out. She tried to stop breathing, but it was too late.
It burned her lungs and made her body feel like she was oddly heavy and sinking deep under the water, until the darkness swallowed her whole.
* * *
Four Hours Later
What else could Greyson do?
He had a TV brought into his office, so he could watch the media coverage. After getting back to the FBI building, he had to give the abductor what he wanted.
Attention.
If he didn't plaster Emma’s face all over the news, they definitely wouldn’t see her alive again. This was his only shot at finding his wife, and he prayed that someone may have seen what happened to her.
The press wanted a statement
from him to run with the story. Could he blame them? This was a big deal. The director of the FBI’s wife had been abducted, and it was on every damn station. After weeks of all the hype and hoopla over them being the ‘king and queen’ of law enforcement, it had to be fun for some to watch the train wreck that was happening.
They weren’t impervious.
In fact, here was his one weakness and someone managed to make sure to hit it with one powerful shot.
Watching the journalists report it over and over was nothing more than his penance. The only thing from the day he could focus on was when his wife came to have lunch with him. He continually replayed the part where he callously walked away from her, like she was nothing.
At that moment, he believed he had all the time in the world to talk to her again. Greyson never saw this coming.
Oh, there was no doubt. He’d earned this pain.
If Greyson had only known, he wouldn’t have let her leave his side. Croft would have kept her safely housed in the building, escorting her everywhere.
Even the bathroom.
Sadly, his one chance was over.
It was hard not to relive it over and over in his mind. The way she looked at him, as he rushed past her, the hurt present in her eyes, and then the note apologizing when she’d done nothing wrong.
Oh Christ.
The note was crushing enough, and that Emma believed she could ever be in the way was like a million slashes to the heart. If he knew then what was on the horizon, he would have gone after her.
Kissing her.
Hugging her.
One last time.
The tears filled his eyes again, as the only vestige of love in this world was stolen out from beneath him. Some man he was. The killer had his woman, and he let it happen. By this time, she was being stripped and possibly raped.
The outrage filled him that he was well aware of the outcome and was helpless to step in and save her. It was only a matter of time before she was placed somewhere for him to find her broken body.
What kind of husband was he?
Emma handed him her trust and all he gave back was the inability to keep her from harm’s way.
This was his karma for doing the one thing that he swore would never happen. Today, he broke his own rule and put work before his woman.
“Oh please, honey, fight for me. I can’t do this without you. I don’t even know if I can ever return to our condominium. You have to find your way back to me.” The sob caught in his throat, as he prayed that she would hear him. Wherever she was, he needed her to know he was with her.
“Emma, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, begging for absolution from her. He knew she’d never know what he was sending out to her, but if there was a higher power--maybe he’d be given some mercy.
For years, he served the good of mankind. Grayson had defended his country, taking shrapnel all in the name of freedom. Then, he came home to protect the people on their soil, chasing deviants and criminals until he caught them. If he’d ever done anything worthy in his life, he was asking for one more chance.
He swore he’d never walk away from her.
He’d never pass up the chance to kiss her goodbye.
He’d never let anyone touch her again.
“Emma, I need you.” He wanted to weep, as his eyes filled with tears and began to overflow.
At the knock on his door, he tried to compose himself, but instead just rested his forehead on his desk, not caring who wanted his attention. Right now, he couldn’t be more than a husband who was worried about his wife.
When he didn't reply, it opened anyway.
“Are you going to be okay?” Briggs asked, locking the door behind him.
Croft shook his head and said nothing.
The entire thing was all deja vu for Curtis. When they were in Celestia, he’d walked into a similar scene with Emma. Greyson had been abducted, and she was in her office and just as upset too.
“You have to snap out of this,” he said, hoping the same trick would work on his boss too.
Croft didn't care. He deserved whatever was handed him. Without Emma, he wasn’t strong enough. They’d been wrong. She wasn’t the only weakness in his armor; Emma was the protection. Without her in his life, he couldn’t function. In the few months that he had her as his wife, she’d become his everything.
When they met, he finally began living.
Briggs tried again. “When you were taken, she had the same reaction, but she pulled it together and found you. Are you going to let her die?”
He looked up at him, horrified that the man even said the words out loud.
“She broke it all down and worked out where they had you. Yeah, you got the shit kicked out of you, and so may she, but don’t you want her back alive?”
“Of course I do!”
“Use every resource you have to find her. Don’t sit here wallowing in pity. Right now, he could be hurting her. We’re all she has! Are you willing to quit on her, when she never gave up on you?”
He stared at the man.
“I’m going to go run every surveillance tape that we pulled. I’m going to find the car and the man who took her. THEN, I’m going to go find her. Someone has to bring Emma home to the family!”
Croft watched his partner leave the room, slamming the door angrily behind him. It was obvious that he was hurting too. The younger man had a point. Yeah, he was going to find his wife. He needed to and he would use every resource, including the one who was dying to have him in his pocket.
Picking up her phone, he scrolled through the numbers until Greyson found it. Hitting call, he swallowed his pride and did what he needed to get her back.
“Emma?” came the voice in concern. “You’re all over the news, where are you my dear?” inquired Randall Mason.
“It’s Greyson. Remember how you offered her a favor and told her anything was hers?”
“I do,” he replied, surprised that the proud man had called him. He never saw this day coming in a million years.
“I know you do dirty dealings all over the city. I need to know who took my wife. Someone might have talked or hired someone.”
“Isn’t this the serial killer you’re chasing?” He ignored the comment about his crooked business deals, only because at one time he’d lost the woman he loved and it changed him too. Once, he’d been straight as an arrow and just as untarnished.
He didn't want to show his hand. “It may be, but I need to cover every base and all my avenues.”
“I’ll see what I can find out. If you need helicopters, money or anything, it’s yours, Director Croft.”
He’d just sold his soul to the billionaire, and he didn't give a shit. Emma’s life was well worth it. “Thank you.”
The phone line went dead, and he knew there was one more call he needed to make.
Dialing, he called his boss.
When he finally came on the line, it was Elizabeth not Ethan he was talking to.
“Greyson, we just heard about your wife. What can we do for you?” she asked sympathetically. She’d been in his place a few weeks earlier, and still wasn’t over it. When Callen had called, telling her Ethan was gone, her life came screaming to a halt.
“I was checking in to inform Ethan what I just did.”
Elizabeth knew what was going on down there. “Spill it, darlin’. I’m aware of the situation.”
He told her everything, especially the part about jumping into the cesspool even deeper. Where Croft swore she was going to be upset, Elizabeth wasn’t.
“You’ll get her back. As for Randall Mason, you focus on your wife for now and worry about the rest later. We have your back, plus you called to warn us. If he tries to hold you to anything and use the power of your job, we have the big fish on the line. We take care of our own.”
He couldn’t speak.
“Greyson.” She lowered her voice. “When Ethan was taken, my whole world ended. I couldn’t breathe and I was shaken to my core. You can get throu
gh this. You’re a director for the FBI and more importantly, you’re Emma’s husband. She needs you. Go find your girl, and you let us stress the bribery shit that’s going down. Right now, you can’t carry it all. Let me help you through this.”
“Thank you,” he finally answered. Croft was so grateful that the Blackhawks were in his corner.
“We’re more than your bosses. We have your back. Callen is prepared to fly down there and run the place while you search for your wife. If you need him there, you call us. Okay?”
“I appreciate it,” he said.
“Now go find Emma!”
Croft hung up the phone, feeling a tiny bit better. Everyone was right. He couldn’t sit there and wallow in self-pity. What he needed was to find Emma and bring her home.
Then, he was never letting Emma out of his sights again.
Greyson knew he couldn’t survive a repeat performance.
* * *
He was back.
It was time.
All afternoon, he tried not to think about what was waiting for him when he arrived home, but it was just too overwhelming.
Now, he was sitting in his kitchen and enjoying dinner, before he began the evening’s festivities.
There were benefits to being his ‘naughty and nice’ women. It may not seem like it now, but he could promise them that their legacy would carry on in his heart, of course in his mind, and fantasies.
And in the pictures.
Oh, yes, before he took them to the park, he’d snap a few and print them out for his little room of remembrance. When he was having a bad day, he could go in there and just enjoy the beauty of it all.
Staring down at the perfectly cooked steak on his plate, he took the sharp knife and carved words into the meat, laughing at his own silliness.
“There’s never too much practice,” he said grinning.
Continuing to eat, he decided to watch the news and hoped that he would see the faces of his dead victims all over the screen.
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 6
