“Yeah, I start with vice today.”
Uh, shouldn’t he have known that? “Oh, I wasn’t aware.”
Explaining all the details to him, she waited for Curtis to make some comment. If he was going to state anything, it would be right about now.
“That sounds like a good opportunity to get some cross training,” he answered, trying to stay neutral.
She agreed. “The shower is all yours,” Brynn added before heading for her bedroom door. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Briggs watched as she walked away and was speechless. There wasn’t even a kiss goodbye. He felt sick to his stomach.
Climbing out of bed, he headed to the bathroom. He was going to get ready for work. Today was going to be a long day of research for his boss. He already saw it coming.
Standing under the water, Curtis closed his eyes and began mentally preparing to get dumped by a woman he cared a great deal about.
He knew it was just around the corner.
Curtis could feel it.
* * *
Standing in the bathroom, she leaned over the counter and inspected her face. There was a wicked looking bruise on her one cheekbone, and it was already turning a mottled shade of green. This was going to be a big problem, especially since she was going to be accompanying her husband to the Christmas Eve soiree at Randall Mason’s mansion in two days.
“I wonder if makeup will cover it,” she muttered, not hearing her husband approach behind her until he was right there.
“What are you doing, Em?” he asked curiously, as he wrapped his arms around her body and rested his chin on her shoulder.
“We have the party in two days, and I don’t know if this will be gone by then,” Emma stated, pointing at the mark.
Croft shrugged. “We’re not going,” he supplied, not even giving it a second thought.
“What?” she asked, turning to stare into his face. “Why not? We have to attend. You need to be there, Grey, and we need to move on with our lives.”
She didn't relish stepping out looking this beat up, but she would stand by his side and suck up all the speculative stares. When it came down to it, they needed to do the job they set out to do and not stress the rest.
“I won’t put you on display,” he answered, lifting her gently and sitting her on the counter so she could get off her healing feet.
“Grey. I’m going. I have my dress. I bought shoes. We need to do this.”
He stared at her. “Emma.”
She shook her head. “I need to do this for me. I can’t hide here forever. Are you going with me, or do I need to find a date?”
The fire flashed in his eyes, and he crossed his arms. “Just try it and see what happens.”
Laughing, she ran her fingers down his cheek. “I love you, Greyson Croft, but you don’t scare me.”
He growled and scooped her up in his arms before biting her on the neck. “You should be terrified,” he teased, feeling some of the pressure lessening from his chest.
Emma simply laughed, knowing the man was hardly dangerous when it came to her. He was a big puddle of mush.
When his phone rang, he placed her delicately on her feet. “It’s my lab. It’s probably the kit results.”
Staring at the phone in his hand, Emma finally grabbed it to answer it. She knew for him, it would be much harder to handle, so she took one for the team.
“Hello,” she answered, watching him begin to pace. It was already tearing him up inside, and Emma suspected he’d prepared himself for worst-case scenario.
The person on the other line paused, obviously caught off guard. “Is the boss there?”
Emma continued, “Hi, Max. He’s in the shower,” she covered for him. “Are you calling about the kit?”
Max was a little surprised that she sounded so good after the ordeal that she had survived. “I am, ma’am,” he answered. “Do you want me to give the results right to you or call back later and talk to the boss?”
“You can tell me. I’m ready for it,” she said, closing her eyes and praying.
“There was definitely DNA present, but it matched the sample on file for the director. We didn't find any variations from an additional donor.”
Emma opened her eyes. “What else did you find on me?” she asked, staring into her husband’s face. It was as if he was trapped in some horrible nightmare as the fear was etched deeply into his features.
“You had fibers attached to your undergarments. We’re still running those. Once we get them back, I’ll call back and let the director know what we found.”
Emma was feeling so much better. “I appreciate you pulling a long night to run the test, Max. The director does too.”
“It’s not a problem, Mrs. Croft. I’m just glad it returned the way it did. That has to be a relief for your husband.”
Emma was more than happy. “Yes, it will be.”
“Tell the boss we’ll transmit in a few minutes. I wanted to deliver the news this way and not in an email.”
“Thank you for not just sending it in email. I appreciate that too.” Emma disconnected the call.
It was like all the energy in the room changed as his life hinged on this one call. Even if it was positive, he’d still hold up, knowing Emma would need him to be strong, but there’d be some damage to his heart that he didn't keep her safe.
“Well?”
“They found DNA, but when they ran it, it came back to that of a large Neanderthal.”
It took him a few seconds, and then a smile crossed his face. “Damn those cavemen,” he muttered, opening his arms for her. When Emma launched herself into his body, he caught her and left kisses across her face. “Now, I can start living again.”
She understood, because so could she.
Greyson took her by the hand and led her out of their room. “How about I make you some tea?”
Hopping onto the stool, she watched her husband move around the kitchen. He was currently barefoot, wearing a t-shirt and jeans. It was a vast difference from his daily apparel. “I’d love some tea.”
“I’ll have some too,” he stated as he pulled down two mugs.
She watched him curiously.
As if understanding the look, he explained. “I promised if you came back to me, I’d give up coffee.”
Emma almost fell off her stool at that declaration. Who would even promise something so heinous? “What?”
“I always keep my word, and that’s just how it’s going to be from now on.” Damn it, the caffeine withdrawal was going to be a bitch.
Laughing, she wiped her eyes. “Babe, drink the coffee. For the sake of our marriage, have some caffeine. No one in Vegas needs you going over the edge because you’re strung out from withdrawals.”
He grinned. “Are you sure?” The idea of his coffee coming back brightened his mood.
Emma winked at him. “Yeah, in this case, I think breaking that promise is for the best.”
As her water boiled, he started a pot of coffee. “I’m sorry that I lied to you this morning and told you we couldn’t be friends anymore. My wife is going to let me play with you after all. It would have been an ugly breakup, but now you can be part of my morning routine once again.”
She snorted and shook her head. “Not if you keep talking to inanimate objects, she won’t.”
Croft grinned wickedly, and when he saw Emma’s face go serious, he froze. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, worried about her suddenly.
“Can we talk?”
Oh hell. Conversations that started with that generally ended poorly. “Are you going to ask me for a divorce?”
She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “WHAT? Why the hell would I even be thinking that?” Emma demanded.
He let out a sigh. “I was just checking. Okay, yes we can talk then.”
At first Emma sat there with her mouth open and nothing coming out. “I meant about the kidnapping.”
That didn't really rank up there high on his list of things
to do today either, but if Emma felt the need to talk it out, he wanted to be there for her. “Sure.”
“Something is bothering me, and I need to say it out loud and get it off my chest. You know how sometimes little things drive you crazy and keep digging at your brain, almost trying to warn you?”
He nodded, pouring hot water into her tea cup, and then handed it to her. “It’s your instinct, so fire away.”
“Something is way off about all of this, Grey.”
He watched his wife and waited for her to continue before he shared what was bouncing around in his mind.
“The first time I came to, I was hooded and gagged,” she began, watching his eyes change as the storm began brewing. Gone was all the calm, and in its place was anger. “My hands were tied behind me, and then after I was drugged when I woke up, they were in front of me.”
“Maybe he undressed you after the first time.” That sentence alone made him want to punch a hole in a wall. The mere thought that some man had removed Emma’s clothing, touched his wife, and admired what was his alone, made him want to rage in fury.
“No, I was undressed the entire time. I could feel the chill on my skin.”
Croft already knew where she was heading with this, because he’d been dwelling on it and trying to cope with it in his own head.
“Why would you put someone’s hands in front of them where they could remove the tape and hood?” she inquired.
He didn't speak. It wasn’t as if he was surprised that his wife was stuck on that little detail. It had been tripping him up all night too.
“Once the hood was off, I could untie my hands and feet. I also could clearly see the trunk release.”
Yeah, his wife may have just been through hell, but she was still a detective to the core. Already, she was processing the details and ferreting out the truth from the deception.
“I think that whoever took me wanted me to get free. Once I escaped and pulled that latch, whoever was driving could have caught me. I was cold, wounded, and not hard to spot.”
He shook with rage at the visual.
“No one chased me, Grey, and that’s suspicious. Maybe I’m just being paranoid and expecting the worst, but to me this feels off.”
Finally, he spoke when he knew his temper was back under control. “All of this feels wrong to me too. Everyone is assuming it’s the serial killer, but there are so many flaws in that theory,” he paused. “Are you sure you’re ready and want to discuss all this?”
Emma needed to do it. “I want to have closure and find who took me, Grey. I need in on this. I want to work this case with you.” What she didn't tell him was she wanted to monitor him, in case he found the person before she did. Emma needed to keep her husband from doing something irrational and homicidal.
“My first suspicion was when I had you in the Denali, and you were cold. You said to me, ‘he took my wedding ring’,” Croft stated. “All the victims that we found had their jewelry. Rings, necklaces and earrings were all intact on their bodies.”
Emma listened to her husband breaking it all down as she sipped her tea.
“When you were in the trunk, was there another person with you?” he questioned, disgusted that he had to ask her that.
“No, I was very much alone.”
“Why transport one stripped down woman to a location to kill her? The ME had told us time of death on the first two victims and they’re relatively the same. If you were one of his intended ‘naughty or nice’, there would have been someone in the trunk with you. I doubt the killer is going to drive you twenty eight miles away, kill you, place the body and return for the next victim- only to do it all over again.”
She got what he was saying. “Whoever took me was guessing and trying to find the similarities of the serial killer. They only knew so much information and were speculating as to the rest.”
“Exactly, because we didn't release that much information and the killer didn't leak anything that would help them out. When he took your jewelry, he assumed a killer would want a souvenir, except our guy isn’t taking jewelry. He’s keeping their purses and the contents and yours was found in the Navigator. It’s the only thing we haven’t found with the first two sets of bodies. Now, I can’t confirm this until my agents get here later, but when they do, I’ll ask.”
“What else, Grey?”
He pondered the entire scenario. “When you were taken, on the front seat of the SUV there was a message.” He told her what it said.
“I’m sorry, babe.” This had to all be so painful for him.
“The ‘Naughty and Nice’ killer isn’t leaving me notes. He’s leaving us cards. Christmas ones that are signed Kris Kringle.”
Emma really believed this killer was twisted, but she was so glad that they had little differences. It was going to be what blew it wide open. These inconsistencies were what would help them find all the answers.
“The media got wind of the card, but no one knows about his nickname. If it was the same person, why wouldn’t he sign the cards the same way? Why just the message and no signature? I believe that he would want me to know it’s him. It was all about pride and gloating for Kris Kringle, but then taking you and he doesn’t want to rub it in?”
She could see his point. “Do you think this has something to do with the commissioner and Randall Mason?”
Croft needed to let her in on what he’d done. “I have to tell you something.”
Now, it was her turn to worry.
“I do believe it’s all connected. When you were abducted, I didn't know what to do. I called Mason and begged for his help. I know he has connections, and I wanted him to put some feelers out and see if someone took you.”
She knew the implications.
“I offered him anything if he’d help me.”
“Babe,” she went to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. “It’s okay. We can get through this.” It looked like they took a big leap into the danger. If Randall Mason was the man who was trying to buy every official in the city, then he was just given a key to their lives.
“I called my bosses. I spoke to Elizabeth and told her what happened to warn her about what I did.”
It made Emma happier to know their asses were covered. “It’s actually easier this way,” she stated, trying to reassure him. “You jumped the middleman and can go right after the head honcho himself.”
Croft appreciated her faith in him. “Yeah, except someone didn't like what I was doing before and they took you. I can only imagine what’s going to happen next.”
“I’m completely safe now. You have nothing to worry about, Grey.”
He wished he could believe that.
“I wasn’t expecting to be taken, Grey. Now, I’m on alert and so are you. If he let me go on purpose, you’ll find out soon enough.”
He was well aware. “I’m expecting a note or a comment at the Christmas Eve party.”
“That’s only more reason to make sure we’re there. We can’t turn back, babe. You and I are already in the middle of this, and we need to finish it.”
He hated that his wife was trapped in it with him. This was the last thing Greyson wanted Emma doing.
“No one’s lining their pockets with my sexy FBI director,” she said, patting him on the ass to offer some levity.
Croft sighed. “Emma, what am I going to do with you?” he asked, kissing her on the top of the head.
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
He wondered if she’d still be laughing when he placed her on full lockdown or house arrest.
Emma had gone to rest for a little while, since she still had a headache from the ordeal. While she was napping, Croft was busy in the living room running the FBI remotely. There were emails, texts, updates and just about everything else all at once.
Yeah, working in his office would be that much easier, but being at home offered him peace of mind. Eventually, he’d have to watch Emma go her separate way, returning to work, but for now he want
ed to hover over her.
At the knock at the door, he glanced down at his watch. The only person they were expecting was his partner, and he had a key. Peeking out the hole, he saw one of their security people. Slipping the nine millimeter from the back of his pants, he opened the door.
“Mr. Croft, these were delivered for your wife. I didn't want to make you come down, since there’s media all over the front of the building,” stated the man.
He took in the flowers. “Did you check them?” he asked, slipping the gun back into his pants.
The movements weren’t missed by the security guard. “We did, and there’s a message attached.”
Croft pulled the card and opened it. It was addressed to Emma, and immediately he was on alert. Pulling it out, he found that there were actually two. One was for his wife and other for him.
Reading them, he glanced up. “Toss them. I don’t want them anywhere near my wife,” he stated. “Or keep them down in the lobby.”
The man nodded.
“If we receive any more deliveries, call me. I’ll come down.”
“I understand, Mr. Croft. We’ll handle it,” he stated, walking back to the elevator with the massive bouquet.
Croft watched him go, before closing and locking the door behind him. Rereading the note cards, he shook his head. Randall Mason was at it again.
‘Emma, I’m so glad you’re back safe. I’m looking forward to Christmas Eve. Randall.’
It was the second card that had his attention. On it, Mason had two words.
‘Call me.’
He didn't doubt that that message was for him. Now, his interest was piqued. It was all very stealthy and FBI like, the irony being that it was a seventy-year-old man attempting to pull it off and not him.
As he pulled out his phone, he listened to make sure Emma wasn’t anywhere around. Dialing, he waited two rings.
“Director, you’re very prompt.”
“Spill it, Mason. I don’t have all day. Emma’s resting,” Croft said, practically growling. He had to fight to keep his temper in check, forcing himself to remember the underlying assignment.
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 11
