Love is Bleeding (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 4)

by Morgan Kelley

  After all, he was doing a damn good job of cleaning up Vegas. Elizabeth would give the man the credit he deserved, while handing him a little present now and then.

  “Governor, thank you for taking my call,” she said into the phone. After explaining the situation, she continued, “Director Croft is running this for me in Vegas, and we need your help.”

  “Certainly,” the man said, more than happy to have the FBI assuring him that it would be handled.

  “Can you call your commissioner and have him pass the news down to the homicide division? It’ll seem less hostile if it comes from you rather than me. I’m often misunderstood,” she said, pointing at her husband when he opened his mouth to make a comment.

  “Absolutely, Director. If you’re ever in our fine state, I would love for you to join me at the governor’s mansion for dinner.”

  Now, she was the one grinning, while Ethan Blackhawk crossed his arms over his chest, giving her the look. “We’ll see what I can do.”

  When she hung up the phone, she dropped her boots to the corner of the desk. There was no need to smirk. Elizabeth knew she’d get it done. “Hand it over, ace,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Blackhawk dropped the fifty in her palm. “I can’t believe you didn't lose your temper or threaten anyone.”

  “Yeah, well, like they say in Vegas, handsome, ‘don’t bet against the house’.”

  “Now, about the man asking you out on a date, and you not telling him you’re married,” he began.

  She just laughed. “Yeah, it’s a great idea to tell him I’m shacked up with two men. That won’t blow up in your face at all.”

  On second thought…

  * * *

  When Commissioner Chris Ford got off the phone, he knew something bad was brewing. If the FBI was circumventing his office, heading straight to the governor, bad shit was about to explode all over the place. He was so buried in a million mini-messes, that he had no intent of standing in their way.

  If the FBI wanted to handle something that was likely to explode, they could have at it.

  Although, he was a little surprised that Greyson Croft didn't just call him directly. Obviously, he needed to make it more clear that he trusted the man, and was willing to play fair with the Feds, especially now.

  At that moment, Vegas was imploding. The last thing he needed was the governor, or the head of one of the FBI meccas, on his ass.

  There was a little twinge in his gut.

  Yeah, he was sitting in the big office, schmoozing with lawyers, governors, and other important people, but he honestly missed it.

  He longed for the action.

  For the mystery.

  And for the people he had once worked with. Being the boss was all fine and dandy, but he couldn’t help but think back to being in the trenches and getting dirty on the last case with the Crofts.

  Damn!

  He screwed this up!

  Why did he walk away from his job as captain?

  Looking around, he knew why. He was drawn in by the money, power, and prestige.

  Shit.

  He swore he’d never fall for that, but Vegas had sucked him in, chewed him up, and made him nothing but a man full of regrets.

  He sighed. “Oh well. There’s nothing you can do now,” he muttered, picking up his phone.

  Granted, Chris was pretty high up the food chain, but like anyone else, he was a slave to the man above him.

  Dialing, he started hunting down his replacement, Patty Stout. This was going to be her problem now, and he hoped she could keep her sense of humor and see the irony in all this.

  Welcome to the world of political bullshit.

  It most definitely rolled downhill.

  * * *

  Well, it was all coming down to the showdown in the dead couple’s driveway. As Emma and Greyson stood there, waiting for the ME to arrive, they already knew what the outcome was going to be.

  As Captain Stout pulled in with Detectives Laden and Spencer in tow, Emma had a bad feeling. She knew her husband had made a phone call, but it had apparently fallen on deaf ears. From the look on all three faces approaching them, it was going to be a disaster.

  “Detective, I was under the impression you were taking time off because of today,” stated the captain. “Had I known you were going to show up on a crime scene, I would have denied your request.”

  “I am taking time off,” she replied. “I told you I would be with my husband, and here he is.” Emma made the introductions. At Detective Heath Spencer’s name, her husband tensed.

  Well shit! It was about to get even worse. Apparently, Curtis Briggs had given him the heads up.

  He was a dead man.

  Greyson Croft got down to business, hoping to rationalize with the woman in front of him. “Captain, I know how busy the Las Vegas police department is, and I would like to offer our assistance on this one. I do believe that it’s not a coincidence and would like to take it over, having my people run with it.”

  The woman stared at him emotionlessly. “No, that’s okay, Director. Until you can prove that this is related to what happened today, it’s ours.”

  Okay, strike one.

  “Again, we have far more resources than you do, and it would be in both of our best interests if we came together,” he began, trying once more. “You toss us this one and somewhere down the line, we can return the favor.”

  She cut him off. “I’ll reiterate once more, Director Croft. We appreciate your offer, but I’m not big on taking and giving favors. I like to run my ship by the rules. I suggest the same.”

  Emma didn't know how her husband kept his cool. That pot shot alone, would have normally caused him to lose it.

  If anything, Greyson Croft was sterling.

  Detective Sawyer Laden was amused. Finally, the big FBI fish in the little pond, just had his power handed back to him. It made him want to dance a jig. Yeah, there was no love lost for the Feds. “Looks like we’re up,” he said. “Hey, Emma sugar, why don’t you get us men some coffee?”

  Oh, he was dead, and it wasn’t going to be by Greyson’s hand, but by hers. She didn't like assholes baiting him.

  Emma knew her husband wasn’t going to let this one go down easy. Before she could interject and try, the captain’s cell phone rang. “Excuse me, I need to take this. Gentlemen, get ready to take over the scene.”

  Oh, Croft wasn’t happy.

  Not at all.

  “Wow, you just got schooled by a woman who wasn’t your bed pet. That had to hurt,” Laden taunted. “I’d like to say that I’m surprised that you’re pulling rank for your wife, but I’m not. It’s typically what the FBI does. Unfortunately for you, we have a new captain in town, and she hates everyone equally.”

  Heath Spencer laughed. “Amen.”

  If Greyson could kick the man’s ass, he would do it in a heartbeat.

  Emma prayed for divine intervention. When the new detective started to speak, she knew she could kiss that little wish goodbye.

  “So, you’re the husband,” Heath said, checking the older man out.

  “That’s what the wedding band generally means,” Croft replied, biding his time. He trusted his boss, and knew she’d pull it off.

  “Other than you being big, you’re not that scary at all. I don’t see what all the hub bub is about. I would have thought you’d be a lot tougher looking, since all the detectives are running scared.”

  Emma knew the man was dead. She hoped Steele Bentley brought extra body bags.

  Instead of snapping the smart ass in half, Croft opted for a different route. When he started laughing, it caught everyone off guard. “I’m not scary,” he began. “What I am, is a well-informed individual.” He stared at the detective. “I know that your grandmother’s name was Rose, and she surrounded herself with little porcelain cherubs. I know that your father had a secret stash of Cuban cigars which he hoarded compulsively. I also know that you’re two days late on your student loan payment too. You sho
uld get on that. It’s bad for your credit.”

  The man stared openmouthed.

  “How the…?”

  “I know everything about you, Detective, and I’ve learned plenty to know my adversary. What you should be worried about, is how little you know about me.”

  He didn't know what to say.

  Croft continued, “Do you want to know what else I know, Detective? I’m talking specifically about you flirting with my wife, checking out her ass, and thinking impure thoughts about her.”

  That shut his mouth and made him swallow.

  Before Croft could say anymore, the captain was back, and she looked pissed off. “Pack it up, boys. That was my boss. It seems that he had a call from the governor, who had a call from the head of the FBI. We’re handing this one over.”

  “What?” stated Laden. “You can’t do that!”

  This time, it was Greyson Croft who grinned. “In my defense, I did ask nicely beforehand. I guess you should have gone with option- A and interdepartmental cooperation.”

  Captain Stout turned to stare at Emma. “You and your partner, if she’s needed, are officially on loan to the FBI for the duration of this assignment. I don’t know how you did it, Detective, but we will be discussing it when you get back. It won’t be a good discussion either.”

  Emma wasn’t worried. “Yeah, it never is,” she stated, knowing there’d be hell to pay. She had the police union to lean on if she needed it. Her record was spotless, and the captain didn't have a leg to stand on over this one.

  She’d take her chances.

  Patty Stout addressed the director, “If you need our assistance, I’ve been told to offer it to you. Just call my office.”

  Laden sputtered as his boss walked away, barely putting up a fight. It pissed him off that the Feds just rolled right over her.

  “Ouch. Your boss just bailed on you, Detective. Now, that had to hurt,” Croft grinned ferally.

  He owed Elizabeth Blackhawk big time.

  Emma watched the two men head back to their cars, and she let out her breath. That could have gone horribly awry, and she knew it.

  “Are you going to get mad because I didn't tell you about him?” she asked, as they waited for the ME to arrive.

  He shrugged. “I’m not mad, but you should have told me. I’m your husband. It’s my job to keep what’s mine safe.”

  Emma’s hand immediately went to the handcuff necklace around her neck. He had bought it for her as symbol of just that.

  A blush crept up her throat.

  Croft smiled satisfactorily. As long as his wife still had that reaction, that’s all that mattered to him. She was most definitely his- mind, body, and soul. After the last altercation with Laden, he was trying to stay calm and not get so worked up.

  Trying, being the operative word.

  “I do have a question,” she stated, staring up into his eyes.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “How did you know that he checks out my ass and is thinking impure thoughts about me?”

  Croft began laughing. Leaning down, he took the opportunity to whisper in her ear. “That’s easy, kitten. I know what I’m thinking about when I see you. Men are predictable.” When he finished, he nipped her lobe, just as the doctor approached.

  Emma fought the flush. Damn him and his Croft-y ways. He always managed to heat her blood at just a touch.

  “Where’s she at?” Doctor Bentley asked, carrying his kit with his tools.

  “The house, Doc,” Emma said, leading him in. It was best she get as far away from her husband’s body, before she overheated.

  Steele made a beeline right to the dead woman. He knew that the director and detective would want his initial assessment, and soon. After all, there was a cop killer out there, likely with his would-be-target already in sight.

  Gently, he began feeling her body for anything that would stand out. “Already, I can tell you that she took a hit to the back of the skull. There’s a good amount of blood pooling on the floor, but it wasn’t what killed her.”

  Emma crouched down beside him, much like she always did. They had a routine, and she was comfortable with it. A cop was only as good as her relationship with the ME.

  Doctor Bentley focused on her. “Her eyes gave it away,” he said, turning her head. “See the capillaries that have ruptured? I’m willing to guess that when I open her up, she’s been strangled. We can take bets on if her hyoid is broken or not.”

  Emma began making notes on her phone. “You’re rarely wrong, Doc, so I think I’ll save my money for a rainy day.”

  The ME laughed.

  Croft watched the man, and not once did he do anything inappropriate toward his wife, but Greyson still felt off. Something about Steele Bentley was tripping him up. Maybe he was being irrational, and the man just wanted to be Emma’s friend. It was quite possible that a man and beautiful woman could have that kind of relationship without sex getting in the way.

  Then, he started laughing at the absurdity.

  They looked up at him.

  “What’s funny?” Emma asked, seriously worried about her husband’s sanity. Here, he was laughing at a crime scene, just as she asked if the woman had suffered. That was definitely not like him.

  “Long day,” he said, covering for himself.

  Steele continued, “I don’t see any defense wounds, so she didn't put up a fight. With the strike to the back of the head, she was likely snuck up on and attacked.”

  Emma made additional notes.

  “Where’s the rest of your team?” the doctor asked, glancing around.

  “Curtis is still at the last crime scene, Agent Brass is canvasing the area and talking to the neighbors, and Emma’s partner is trapped at the precinct with Captain Cranky until we need her,” he replied.

  Steele began laughing at that terminology. He couldn’t be more accurate if he tried. In fact, Steele made it a point to avoid the homicide captain at all costs. She liked her paperwork in triplicate, and he didn't have time for that.

  This was Vegas.

  They had a lot of deaths and only one ME.

  “Yeah, Patty Stout is a tough nut to crack,” he offered, trying to stay neutral.

  “She’s one nut I wouldn’t touch,” Croft added. “Even if I was a rabid, starving squirrel.”

  “I’ll second that,” Doctor Bentley said, laughing. “She’s not my type.”

  “Are you two done?” Emma asked, giving them both the look. She was all for bonding, but over their victim?

  It was weird.

  Steele stared back down at the dead woman and continued through his checklist. If he looked up at the director, he was going to laugh even more. As he pulled the liver probe from her body, he did the mental math. “TOD is around nine this morning,” he said, dropping his voice. “That means that she was dead approximately two hours before that bullet struck and killed her husband.”

  Emma knew what that meant. Immediately, she stood and hugged Greyson. Everyone around them stared, but it didn't matter. This confirmed that the bullet didn't miss her husband accidentally. It was never meant for him.

  “Emma, honey,” he said, as she shook.

  Emotion overwhelmed her. “I’m sorry, Grey, but I just needed a moment to get through this. It’s been a long day.”

  He couldn’t fault her for that, and apparently, none of his people could either. After all, he was sure they all saw the news reports, and the look on her face as she pulled up to the scene.

  Steele motioned to his people. “I’ll take her back and get the autopsy started. I was just about done with her husband. Now, I’ll wrap her up and get to our mystery body.”

  “Get me what you have as soon as possible,” Croft said, finally free from Emma’s death grip. For a much smaller person, she was pretty damn strong.

  “We shipped off DNA first thing. It’s in your lab, so I imagine you’ll have it by morning. The results of the autopsy will be in by the same time. Swing by, and I’ll be done with my
all-nighter.”

  Croft appreciated it.

  Steele pulled off his gloves and hugged Emma. He knew it wasn’t procedure, but he was worried about her. “If you need to talk, give me a call.”

  Emma appreciated her friend.

  Croft led her outside into the late afternoon sunlight. Spring was settling in on Vegas, and before they knew it, it was going to start to get ungodly hot.

  “I feel like a weight has been lifted off my chest, Grey,” she whispered. Knowing that her husband wasn’t the killer’s target, helped her breathe again.

  “Me too, honey,” he answered, scanning the area. Before he could say more, his phone began beeping. It was his partner.

  “Croft,” he said, pulling his wife to his side protectively.

  “Hey! Where are you?” Curtis asked.

  “We’re at Lester Williams’s house.” Then, he told him everything that went on, from the run in with the LVPD to what the ME had told them about Lester’s wife, Leslie.

  When Curtis whistled, Croft agreed. “Yeah, it’s been one hell of a crazy day. Where are you?”

  “We’re finally finished with the crime scene, and I was wondering if we were meeting back at the office, or home.”

  Since moving into their condominium, Greyson didn't mind having Curtis stay there. It was a comfortable thing, being around the young agent. He reminded him of himself when he was that age.

  Plus, he was able to tease him unmercifully.

  It was a good time.

  Croft saw Tessa approaching. It was obvious that she had wrapped up the canvasing. “Head back to the condo. We’ll order dinner and share what we have. I’m curious to hear about your day.”

  “Is Emma okay?” he asked softly.

  Croft didn't look down, or it would have given the conversation away. “I think so.”

  Briggs went with honesty. “When we thought you were dead, I was scared shitless. I know I promised you that I would take care of her and get her out of there, but I never thought I’d have to do it.”

  He understood.

  “Thank you for not dying.”

  It touched Croft that the man would have kept his word, despite how much it would have wounded him, too. Curtis Briggs was a really decent man, and an important part of his circle.