Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3)

by Morgan Kelley

  The man looked at him surprised. “I’m sorry, Greyson, my boy. I was worried about Emma and didn't want to put any pressure on you.”

  Croft shrugged. “No harm done, Tom. Just for future reference, my office needs to approve it.”

  Randall leaned in admiring the ‘C’ around Emma’s neck. “What a lovely piece,” he stated.

  “Thank you. Greyson picked it out.”

  “Don’t you usually wear that handcuff one?” Trudy said, blandly. “I’m glad to see it gone. It gives the wrong impression.”

  Greyson leaned back. “What would that impression be, Trudy?”

  The woman blushed. “The sexual connotation behind it is a bit much. People see it and talk.”

  Emma tried to sooth him, rubbing his leg. “It’s not gone. I wanted to wear my new one tonight. As for the meaning it gives, that is no one’s business but ours.”

  Croft kissed her on the cheek, ignoring the catty woman. He nodded to the waiter, as the dishes were carried away. There was no wonder that Tom Booker was having affairs. He would too if he was married to Trudy the harpy. He’d never seen it before, but the woman was vicious and the ‘mean girl’ in the society. He could see it clearly now.

  “I hope you approve of dessert, Emma. I had something special created just in honor of you.”

  He pointed at the waiter and servers began placing plates in front of everyone. On them sat a very beautiful, ornately decorated cupcake. It was sinful looking.

  Emma laughed. “You remembered.”

  The older man nodded. “I did. No more strawberry shortcake. I’ve learned my lesson. I now go to the source when I plan my menus. If you’re going to eat dessert, it should be exactly the right thing.”

  She cut into her cupcake and it oozed chocolate. Emma took a bite and grinned. “This is perfect.”

  “As are you, Emma.”

  Greyson happened to agree. “I don’t think the word covers it,” Croft said, getting a kiss.

  Emma caught Trudy rolling her eyes. It gave her great joy to watch the woman be miserable. Her husband was an asshole, and so was whoever was trying to hurt Greyson.

  Randall dropped his napkin on the table. “When you’re ready, I’d very much like to have a private conversation,” he said, to Greyson. “That is if you don’t mind mixing business with pleasure.”

  Greyson couldn’t have planned it better. If he wanted the commissioner to be wary of him partnering up with Mason, this would do it.

  Standing, he held out his hand. There was no way in hell he was leaving his wife alone with the others at the table or the men who would be circling her like vultures. “Emma, will you do me the honor of accompanying me?”

  She had been waiting for his invitation. “If you want me there, Greyson, how can I say no?” Placing her napkin on the table, she stood.

  When Tom Booker did too, Mason stepped in. “I’m sorry, but this is private business between myself and the director. If you’ll excuse me, we can talk later.”

  Mason led them away.

  Trudy watched as Greyson croft lovingly patted his wife on her behind, as they strolled away together.

  “What just happened?” Trudy said incredulously. Her husband was always at Randall’s side.

  “I have no idea,” he replied, staring angrily after the woman he suspected had stolen Mason’s attention away.

  There was only one reason he’d be pushed out, and she was in his place at that moment.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  Randall closed the door behind them and offered them a seat. “Can I get you a drink, Greyson?” he asked, walking towards the cabinet.

  “I’ll get it for you,” Emma offered, moving towards the liquor bar. “What would you like, Randall?”

  The man took a seat across from the director. “I’ll have a scotch, Emma.”

  She poured the man his drink and one for her husband before walking it over to them. “Here you go,” she said, before going to Greyson’s side. As Emma went to sit in a chair, her husband patted his leg and instead she perched herself there.

  Randall began laughing. “You know, I do miss being young and back in old Vegas. I swear, I just had a flashback to a time long forgotten.”

  Emma nuzzled her husband’s cheek as his free hand lovingly touched her derrière.

  “I know I keep saying this, but you’re very fortunate to have someone who understands you, Greyson. Now a days, all women want are your credit card one minute and equality the next.” He sipped his scotch and strolled to his desk to get his humidor.

  “I’m very lucky, but in all honestly, Emma is her own person. I just got lucky enough to be allowed in her life.”

  “Cigar?” he offered. “They’re Cuban, and I am well aware that they’re illegal, so spare me the song and dance.”

  Emma took his glass so he could choose one. When he was ready, she flicked the lighter for him, and then settled back into position.

  “I happen to enjoy a Cuban cigar now and again, so thank you.”

  Randall took his seat. “We have some things to discuss. I put out the feelers you requested and I received word back for you.”

  Emma played with the back of his hair, running her fingers through it as she occasionally kissed him on the cheek. “What did you find out?” she asked.

  “You weren’t abducted by the serial killer at all. This is all a set up,” Mason replied. “What’s happening now is a restructuring of sorts behind the scenes in Vegas. New power players are coming in, like you, and old ones are walking away.” He alluded to himself. “There’s a rush to get to you, Greyson, because you’re the law in Sin City now.”

  “I’m not able to be bought. There are two things that I won’t ever compromise--one is my job and the other is my marriage,” he said, looking up at his wife to receive a big kiss.

  Randall laughed. “I see that, but when you tell people they can’t have something, they want it that much more.” He smoked his cigar. “I’m very sorry that you were hurt, Emma.”

  She cuddled closer into her husband’s lap, knowing that the wiggling was turning him on, as was the clear peek down her dress. Sue her, she wanted Greyson badly and loved teasing him.

  He smacked her on the ass and she laughed. “Behave, Emma,” Greyson warned.

  Randall laughed uproariously. “When you first came to town, no one believed that your marriage was genuine. There was a scramble to get information on you and your brief courtship screamed phony. Now, I see that it is indeed real and genuine.”

  Emma winked at the older man. “I’m really his wife. We sleep together and everything.”

  Mason snickered. “You have your hands full, I see.”

  “Tell me about it,” Croft admitted. “Who took my wife, Randall?”

  The older man sighed. “You’re going to be very angry when I tell you what I know.”

  Emma began soothingly running her hand over his shoulder, waiting for the explosion.

  “Word on the street is that there’s someone offering to do jobs for money, which isn’t exactly odd for Vegas. What makes this one different is that it’s a cop.”

  It wasn’t Greyson who got mad.

  “What?” Emma shouted, jumping out of her husband’s lap as she began pacing. “You’re kidding, right?”

  He shook his head.

  Greyson wasn’t entertained at all that it was a cop who had betrayed his wife. They had a brotherhood, and that meant something. “Is it a cop that works with Emma or one of my agents?”

  He shrugged. “I have to dig delicately and ask the right questions. You can’t rush this, or I’ll be the next one who turns up with a bullet in the brain.” He referred to the way his son and daughter’s lives ended.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be doing this. I don’t want you to get hurt. It’s our jobs to do the investigating not yours.” Emma didn't want the guilt on her shoulders if he were to get in the crossfire.

  “I’m fine. I didn't get to the top of the food chain in V
egas by being stupid. These people wanted to teach your husband a lesson and make him realize that he has no power here.”

  “I don’t have power,” Croft agreed. “What I have is the law on my side, and I plan on making sure people in this town follow it.”

  “That would be what makes them nervous, Greyson. You came to Vegas to clean up after a man who was playing dirty. They assumed that the next director would also follow suit. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.”

  Emma knew that her husband wouldn’t take that route.

  Ever!

  “Okay, I have to be blunt here. Why the hell are you suddenly so happy to help me? Two months ago you were trying to push every one of my buttons, and now you’re my new friend? How do I know that I can trust you?” Croft missed the feel of his wife in his lap. He patted his knee and she was back.

  Okay, this was a good skill to have.

  She winked down at him, knowing what he was thinking.

  Randall figured he’d lay all his cards on the table. “When I was in my thirties, I fell in love with this amazing woman.” He pointed to the picture above the fireplace. “Her name was Aria, and she was just like your Emma. I loved her with all my heart and soul.”

  Emma watched the man, as her husband pulled her closer to his side.

  “Our relationship was reminiscent of yours, or I should say I was exactly like you, Greyson. I was bossy and ran this beginning empire like it was my kingdom. Well, my Aria became pregnant with our first child. She was sick all the time, and it was possibly the worst pregnancy I’ve ever seen. Then one day, she came to me, telling me something was wrong. I blew her off for more ‘important’ things. I told her that she would be fine, go lay down and I would check on her after I had my meeting.”

  Croft could see the parallel of his life. He’d recently done the same thing and almost lost Emma.

  “I schmoozed and made a great deal of money that day. Only I forgot my wife wasn’t feeling well. When they left, I went to tell her the good news, only to find that she had bled internally. My Aria died and took our child with her. I had to bury my wife and my unborn daughter on the same day.”

  Emma wanted to cry for him.

  “It was the worst day of my life, and I became a monster. I took what I wanted, destroyed everything in my path, swallowing up all I could with vengeance.”

  “If anything happened to Emma, I would be the same,” Croft admitted, sipping his bourbon.

  “I built this empire on greed, anger, and hate,” he paused. “Then, right before you came here, I was so tired. My son was a disaster, money was boring me, and I sat here staring at my beloved Aria. I said out loud to no one in particular, is this what I was meant to be? Send me a sign if I’m to change.”

  Emma knew everyone had the ability to do just that.

  “I was playing cards with Tom, and he was telling how he had a conversation with you about wives belonging on shelves and to try out his masseuse to get your…” he paused, looking at Emma unsure if he should continue.

  She glanced at her husband and lifted an eyebrow.

  He grinned. “Go ahead, Randall. I don’t keep secrets from my wife.”

  “He said you refused to cheat on your wife. He said if his wife was a sexy redhead, he wouldn’t cheat either. When he described Emma, meeting her became my obsession. I had to see her, and not because I wanted her for mine, but because I asked for a sign and there it was before me.”

  Croft stared at him.

  “Okay, I would have stolen her away and married her, but look at the woman sitting in your lap. She’s a treasure. Now that I see it’s a real marriage, I respect that,” he added. “Plus, she saved my life twice. To me, those were two more epiphanies.”

  Greyson kissed his wife. “It’s a very real marriage.”

  Emma giggled and shifted in his lap purposely.

  “I decided that she’s my sign, and I’m giving up my old ways and starting to live my life as I should have the last forty years.”

  “I want to believe you,” Croft said, “But this is Emma on the line here. I can’t afford to trust just anyone.”

  “Tell me what I have to do to make you believe, and I’ll do it,” Randall stated.

  “Call Harrison Tyler and destroy the contract you have to monopolize his theater. Give him back the Crassmount.” Emma was more than willing to test the man. “You’re destroying his life and the man he loves.”

  The man walked over to his desk, dialed the phone, and put it on speaker. When Harrison answered, he sounded miserable. “What do you want, Mason? I told you that I’d sell, okay? You wore me out, and I have to choose between the man I love or my legacy. Checkmate you win. Give me until after Christmas and I’ll give you what you want.”

  “I called to tell you that I’m going to pay you back money I owe you, and I’m cancelling the lease. I’ll sign a new one. Have your attorney send it over to me. It can be your conditions to make up for the last twenty years.”

  There was a pause on the other end. “Are you kidding me?”

  “No. I had a change of heart. Let’s just say the angel of my conscience has visited me on Christmas Eve. I’ll fix the damage I’ve done and make it right.”

  There were happy shouts from the phone, as Harrison Tyler finally had freedom. “Thank you, Mr. Mason! You saved my marriage and my family business.” He hung up the phone.

  “Next.”

  Emma believed him.

  “I’m doing this for redemption, Greyson. I only have so many years left. I treated people horribly and lost my family in the process. My legacy is now upon us. Family isn’t always blood, and I’ve learned that now. Let me help you keep your wife safe, in honor of the one I didn’t save.”

  He could use all the help he could get, especially with the stakes so damn high.

  “If you’re lying or planning on betraying me, I’ll make you pay,” he promised. “She means more to me than anything, and I don’t want her hurt.”

  “I’ll keep digging.”

  Emma stood from her husband’s lap and walked to the man sitting behind the desk, leaning over, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Randall.”

  He blushed again.

  “Really damn lucky,” he muttered.

  Greyson Croft simply laughed. He wasn’t telling him anything he didn't already know

  * * *

  He watched her move through the tourists on the strip, bumping into one, and then the other as she offered an apology along the way. Once past them, she smile and headed off to a quiet corner to count her take.

  She was picking their pockets and on Christmas Eve.

  The woman would have a good holiday, by assuring that others would not.

  He had watched her a few times over the course of a week, taking in her actions and the behavior that she deemed acceptable.

  It wasn’t, and that made her very naughty.

  Tonight was the night, and he knew exactly how to catch her.

  He created a scene, shouting about winning in the casino, and how he loved Vegas. He immediately grabbed her attention.

  Walking away, he knew that she would follow. The temptation was too sweet to pass up. Observing her from the corner of his eye, he moved towards the alley where his car was parked, hoping that she would be right behind him.

  A few more steps and he was there.

  Ten.

  Seven.

  Four.

  At the mouth of the alley, he finally heard it.

  “Hey mister! Do you have the time?” she called, running up to him.

  See?

  Predictable if anything.

  Glancing down at his watch, he watched her prepare for the act. Next would come the stumble, where she’d fall practically on top of him.

  Boy, was she in for a surprise.

  No one was around as she followed through and landed on him, trying to take his wallet. She would have been successful, if he hadn’t been aware and so fast.

  He
was ready for her.

  Spinning her, he covered her mouth with his hand and dragged her back into the dark bowels of the alley. Slowly, he squeezed the air from her throat with his arm until she couldn’t fight and her body went limp.

  Popping the trunk with the remote, he tossed her in and bound her hands before she came to and the oxygen returned. The tape was in place, just as she slowly began opening her eyes. The confusion was clear on her face.

  “You’ve been very ‘naughty’ this year, and now it’s time to take you to my home and introduce you to ‘nice’. Maybe, you’ll learn something from her,” he said, running his hand down her young body. “Or maybe I’ll be the one who teaches you a lesson.”

  * * *

  Paris Archer stood there, knowing he was making a horrible mistake. If he were a smart man, he’d turn around and head right home. Everyone told him how he was a genius, but this was the worst thing he could ever do.

  Yet here he was.

  He’d been at home lying on his couch when he was compelled to take a shower, shave, drive across town, and have really out of control sex with his partner.

  If it had been everything else, Paris would be okay, but the sex part was the issue.

  It was all because Tessa had kissed him. The second her lips touched his, the obsession was set free. Yeah, he’d thought about it over the last eight months, and who wouldn’t? The woman was gorgeous, and he was a living, breathing, testosterone filled man.

  But now, here he was and his heart was pounding in his chest. It wasn’t over the sex part, but what was going to happen after the fact.

  Paris kept dwelling on what she said, that he over thought everything and this was proof.

  He was doing it right now.

  Again!

  All it would take was to knock on the door and kiss her back. What would it hurt? It was only a little lip lock, and maybe then he could get her out of his mind and go back home.

  It was Christmas Eve, and they were consenting adults that had to face each other every day.

  He turned around, ready to walk away when he found himself wanting what was inside more than worrying what would happen after the fact.