Croft exited the house and noticed that they already had people stopping to stare. It would only be a matter of time now. The media would be called by some neighbor that wanted to get on the nightly news.
Terrific.
Here it all came.
Leaning against the railing of the porch, the rest of the team that made the initial discovery waited for him.
“Curtis, I want you to do a financial search on Torrance Burns. Find every asset he owns and all the bank accounts too. Take it all the way back to his grandparents, in case he tried to be clever with the name.”
That wave of something being wrong finally caught his attention. “Where’s Emma?” Now, he was panicking. “Where did she go?”
Briggs glanced up from his tablet and could hear the nerves in his boss’s voice. “Emma went back inside. We assumed that she would be safe. You were in there with Doctor Bentley and about ten techs.”
Immediately, he turned and began trying to locate her. In his heart, he was sure that she was fine, but his mind was playing tricks on him. Croft began searching for her among the lab staff, and once he couldn’t locate her, he became more and more agitated.
There was only one place left where she could be, and he bounded up the stairs to the bedroom waiting at the top. Racing inside, he found her standing motionless and staring off into space.
That alarmed him even more.
“Emma,” he called to her softly as he tried to not scare her.
In her gloved hand, she held an open bottle of cologne. Her hand was fisted around it so tightly that he thought it would shatter into pieces, cutting her.
“Honey, listen to my voice and come back to me,” he cajoled, finally reaching for her and pulling her body back against his protectively.
Emma looked up at him. “Grey, it was him.” She told him about the connection to the smells and the sounds.
He took the bottle from her hand and placed it on the dresser. “I know it was, Em. We have the first part of this taken care of for now, honey. We’ll find the man who hired him and when I do, it’ll be handled too.”
She cuddled into the safety of his chest, and her eyes picked up a detail they previously missed. “The carpet,” she mumbled, pulling away to drop to her knees. “Didn't they find a multicolored carpet fiber on me?”
Running her hands over it, she glanced up at her husband.
“Here’s where he kept me,” she stated softly.
Croft had a flood of emotions. Most were rooted in hate and anger. Not only had the man taken her, stripped her down, but he also had kept her in his bedroom. All the coinciding thoughts threatened to consume him whole.
There was no doubt what the man was thinking as his wife lay helpless on the floor. It took him a few cleansing breaths to get the images and thoughts to leave his brain.
“Come on, Emma. I’ll send techs up here to do a sweep. You and I are getting out of here.” He didn't want her suffering and he didn't want to throw something through a window.
“Yes, Grey,” she replied as he pulled her to her feet to help her stand.
“Once we leave here, it’s dead and over. He can’t ever hurt you again.”
She nodded, trusting and believing that her husband would make damn sure of that for the rest of his life.
Captain Christopher Ford was pissed off. If there was one thing that could, and would, rub him the wrong way, it was a dirty cop. It was against everything that they stood for on the job.
Yeah, it happened, but he’d always believed that he was smart enough to see it happening.
So much for that theory.
When the FBI agent and his detective exited the dwelling, he could tell that they were both stirred up. It had occurred to him that Emma Croft might have a hard time coming here, and that’s why he made the friendly wager with his detective.
The director seemed to be a tough man who didn't let anyone push him around but even now, Ford could see that he was wrapped around the smaller redhead’s finger. Concern, love and adoration were present, along with the look of anger, horror and hate.
He couldn’t blame Greyson Croft.
“Are you both going to be okay?” Ford inquired, knowing that having the woman you love vanish had to be a painful thing to swallow, especially for an alpha male like the Fed.
“Yeah, Emma remembered some things. The texture of the carpeting in his bedroom match her memories,” he replied.
Everyone sympathized with both of them.
“I still want in on this,” Ford reiterated. “I don’t have any love lost for a dirty cop.”
Croft got it. “I have no remorse for an asshole that keeps bound women on his bedroom floor while he watches them.”
There was no doubt in any of their minds that he was pissed.
Emma ran her hand up and down his side to offer him the connection and soothing that he’d just given her. To think that this only damaged her would be ridiculous. This broke a piece of her husband too. She had been the victim, but he was trapped in the role of ‘helpless husband’, and it wasn’t sitting well with him.
“Is it safe to speak in front of your agents?” Ford inquired as he motioned towards Briggs, Archer, and Brass.
Croft nodded. “They’re aware of the situation.”
“Word is going to spread. As soon as I get back to the precinct, there’s going to be a call or visit from the commissioner. Someone shot one of his cops. What do you want me to hold back?”
Emma relaxed. Here, she had thought that her boss was going to be a roadblock, but instead he was willing to help keep them covered while they went after the person who started this.
Croft didn't have a choice. They’d yet to tell anyone who they suspected of being the one funneling funds from a power player.
“Ford, I’m about to trust you with our lives and I swear, if you betray us you’re going down.”
He crossed his arms, a sign that he wasn’t enjoying the threat. “I’m not a dirty cop. I run a clean team, and this officer wasn’t under my jurisdiction. I’m not responsible for his actions.”
Croft shook his head. “This is huge; you’re only seeing the tip of the iceberg. I can’t go into it here, but if you want in, you can meet me at my home. I’ll break it all down and tell you what’s happening.”
“I want in.”
Emma wasn’t surprised. “Then, you’re invited to dinner at our house tonight at seven.” She pulled out her phone and sent him a text message. “There’s our address.”
“I’ll be there. I’m not sitting by and watching hell explode around us. I want to make sure my division stays tidy and clean.”
Croft leaned in to drop his voice from the cops and agents wandering around. “I need twelve hours before you relay anything to the commissioner. Can you hold the reports and dodge the calls?”
He didn't think anything of it. Ford knew that Director Croft and Commissioner Booker were friends. “Yeah, I’ll stay here on scene while it gets cleaned up, and then I’ll cut out early today. I can play the game as good as the next person.”
“I need all the files on Torrance Burns too. Do you think that you can procure them for me?” he inquired.
“I think I can make that happen.”
“Are you sure you want in on this, because it’s not going to be a walk in the park,” Emma said, squeezing her husband’s hand.
“This is my town too. I may not be as powerful as the Feds, but I’ve served on these streets and believe in justice. I’ll do what it takes.”
Croft was glad to hear that, because Ford had just volunteered to take part in this giant mess. It was one that could cost them all their jobs and possibly their lives.
* * *
He saw her across the street as she brought supplies back to the office. She was smiling and saying hello to everyone she passed.
This woman was ‘nice’ personified. She was pure, kind, and would be an excellent addition to the women who he had already gifted himself and the FBI.
<
br /> Was it wrong that he wanted to keep her? Not carve her up and leave her as a present for people who didn't get it?
What he wanted was to bring her to his place and show her what ‘naughty’ was quite capable of when need arose.
His body was already taught and ready for her. He was forced to take a deep breath, trying not to dwell on the images dancing merrily in his mind.
Just the chaste dress, and the way she cheerily smiled at everyone, made him want her that much more.
Now, she’d become his obsession.
In the next day or so, he’d acquire her and make her part of his collection. He was sure that once added to it, nothing would ever be the same again. She was the pinnacle of perfection and he had to have her.
Once he got his hands on her, life would never be the same.
‘Nice’ and very ‘naughty’ were about to meet, and the outcome was going to be extra delightful.
* * *
Christopher Ford was an honorable man, or at least he believed that to be true.
He’d begun his life in a small town, working hard to get to college and find the American dream. He’d signed up to be a cop to take care of people and right the wrongs of injustice. Since he was a boy, it was all he ever wanted to do.
Maybe, it was his love of super heroes and the tales of their bravery and adventures, or possibly, it was just part of his DNA. He was from a long line of cops. From the military to the civilian world, he was just one in a family that made the choice to serve and protect with their lives.
After everyone had left the scene, he tried to make himself scarce. Ford did something he rarely did. He turned off his phone and went to lunch. It would buy him an hour before swinging back to his office for the dead cop’s file.
Now, it was a game of cat and mouse to avoid his boss. When the calls became continual, when his phone was back on, he sent a text message telling the man he was in a meeting and would get back to him when his schedule was clear.
Of course, the Fed had been right. Word travelled like wildfire and his boss had wanted to know all about the man who kidnapped Emma Croft. At first, it was professional as Booker asked for the report to be sent to his office, and then it was personal, as he informed Ford he was concerned for his friends. Lastly, there was urgency, and that’s the part that threw him off.
Greyson Croft must have known it was coming, as he bargained for his twelve hours before the papers were submitted. To add to it, the ME had willingly bumped the autopsy back, not up. Again, he believed Croft had his hands all over that decision too. To his knowledge, and according to Steele Bentley, he only had two vagrants to work on when he was back.
It seemed odd, but again, he was going with it.
Not because he trusted a Fed, but because he wanted to be in on it. Yes, he liked Emma Croft. She was more than competent when it came to her job, and she was genuinely a nice person.
Not a doormat, mind you. He’d seen her get stirred up plenty when Sawyer Laden pushed her too far, but there was never a grudge or anger after the blow up.
That was the sign of a good cop. In this job, you needed to be the one who could keep his or her head and be rational after the fact.
Yet, something was germinating in the back of his mind, trying to warn him that a mess was coming. It was going to be something so big that it was bound to catch him off guard and knock him off his feet.
Pulling up to the address, he had to double check it. When they said condominium, he just assumed it would be one more cookie cutter home that lined the Las Vegas Boulevard.
Yeah, he’d been very wrong. This was the biggest most expensive place that he had ever seen. Before getting out if his truck, he pulled out his phone and Googled Sky Villa. Scrolling through the pictures, he finally came to the price tag.
“Holy shit,” he mumbled, shaking his head.
How much damn money did Director Croft bring in a year? Suddenly, he wanted to be a Fed. Who paid that kind of money for basically a larger apartment than he lived in now?
Well, it was now or never. There was no button or buzzer and the door was locked. Suddenly, a voice came over the invisible intercom.
“Who are you here to see?”
It caught him off guard. Come to think of it, Emma never told him the condo number. “Director Croft.”
“Please wait while we contact him for authorization.”
What the hell was this? Heaven was easier to get into and less guarded. This was seriously the mother of all lockdowns. Fortunately, it didn't take long.
“Please enter at the tone, Captain Ford.”
The man did what the voice instructed, despite feeling like he was way out of his element. By dinner at their place, he pictured pizza and beer. Not the clearance needed to see the President of the United States of America.
Once inside, the alarms around the door went off and two very large guards moved towards him.
“Sir, are you armed?” the one asked.
“I’m captain of the LVPD homicide division, so yeah, I’m carrying.”
The man put out his hand. “We need to take your gun until we secure your identity, and we okay you carrying a firearm with Director Croft to his residence.”
Oh no bloody way in hell was he handing over his gun. No cop ever did that willingly.
Just then, the door to the elevator opened and Greyson Croft wandered out carrying a beer in each hand.
“Seriously? They want my damn gun!” he growled, as the Fed laughed. “Tell them that I’m not going to shoot you.”
“It’s their policy. Once they take your picture and fingerprint you, you’ll get it back.”
He stared at him openmouthed. “Are you shitting me?”
Croft leaned against the wall. “I’m afraid that I’m not. The security here is tight for a reason.”
Ford pulled his firearm, discharging the round from the chamber and removing the clip. He handed all three to the big burly man standing beside him.
“William, when you’re done with the strip search I’ll take him up,” Croft teased, enjoying the look on the man’s face.
“Bullshit! I’m going home.”
Croft laughed more. “Relax, Captain. It was a joke. We like to torment all our friends and visitors that come here.”
“Mr. Croft, he is who he says he is,” the guard behind the desk answered.
Ford stared incredulously. “This has to be against the law or some civil rights violation,” he stated, taking back his gun and re-holstering it.
Greyson handed him a beer and laughed at the captain’s discomfort.
“We can violate his rights if you want, Mr. Croft,” the guard teased.
Captain Ford was mortified. “What the hell?”
Greyson winked at the guard as he led him to the elevator. “They really have great senses of humor,” he stated, pushing the button to the thirteenth floor.
“I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. Where the hell am I?”
Croft understood. “When I bought this condo, I picked it because of the view for Emma and the security. I wanted her to be safe if I was traveling. I didn't want her to be at risk. Oddly, she wasn’t at risk here, but surrounded by eighty cops.”
Ford swallowed his beer. “Yeah, well this place is ridiculous.”
Croft shrugged. “I don’t think so, but Emma would agree with you. How do you put a price tag on peace of mind?”
Okay, he had a point. There was no way anyone could get them in here. It would take an act of God to blow one of Emma’s red hairs out of place.
Getting out of the elevator, they walked the corridor.
“So how many condos are on each floor?” he asked, looking for doors but suspiciously finding none.
“There are two on each of the twenty floors, and then there’s one penthouse at the top beside the pool.” Croft answered, stopping at his condominium and using the key to enter.
“Are you shitting me? That means your condo is half the size of the building!”
He pushed open the door, and waited for the man to walk inside. Just the look on his face said it all. “My apartment could fit in here three times.”
Croft laughed. “Yeah, well I like space,” he replied. “Emma! Your boss is here.”
She came around the corner in an apron and her hair pulled back. “Hello, Captain Ford, welcome to our home.”
His detective caught him off guard. At work, she looked like a cop, but here at home, she didn't even come close. She was wearing some frilly dress that looked to be about circa nineteen fifty, and she was barefoot. Somehow, it fit her too.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he stated, looking around. “This is some place, Detective. I think I may need to review your salary.”
She started laughing, as she moved towards him to take his jacket. “Don’t blame me for this monstrosity. You’ll have to take that up with Greyson. All I said was that I liked the view from our hotel while we were on our honeymoon. He took it to the extreme.”
Her husband began laughing.
“Yeah, well I wouldn’t let this secret out. The detectives already dislike the Feds. We don’t need to add in jealousy.”
Emma shrugged. “I don’t generally pass the information around. Brynn is the only one who has been here besides you.”
She led them towards the large kitchen. “Have a seat, Captain,” she offered, pointing at a stool sitting alongside the granite countertops.
“You can call me by my first name, if you want. I think if you eat dinner with someone, you get to drop their titles,” he offered, sitting where she instructed.
“You have a first name?” she asked, with mock surprise.
At first, the teasing caught him off guard. “Yeah, it’s Christopher,” he added laughing. Then, he noticed that she was cooking. “You’re making us dinner?”
She looked up from the salad she was constructing. “Yes, why? You have an aversion to cooked food?”
He didn't want to offend his hosts. “I just don’t consume home cooked meals often. I’m a bachelor. I eat a great deal of pizza.”
Emma smiled. “I figured, and that’s why I decided to make you dinner. I hope you like lasagna. It’s the first thing Greyson ever made me, and it’s one of our favorites.”
Christmas is Killing (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 3) Page 39
