Love is Bleeding (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 4)
Page 29
“Greyson Thaddeus Croft! What the hell is going on there?” Reggie Croft shouted into the phone. “Your father and I were on vacation and got home to messages from family stating you were killed.”
He sighed. “Mom, my death was greatly exaggerated. Had I actually been killed, you would have been told.”
She wasn’t amused. “You’re not funny.”
Even Emma cringed. She wasn’t finding his sarcasm entertaining either. In her head, she was already reliving that fear of seeing it on the news.
“Mom, I can’t really do this right now. I’m at work, and I have a million things to do,” he said, as they exited the elevator and headed toward his office. His secretary was motioning to the phone and mouthing the word ‘boss’.
Terrific.
Now there was a call from one of the Blackhawks. That probably was a bad thing. Not that he was surprised in the least.
Greyson glanced over at Emma. “Here, talk to the little woman,” he said, practically handing her the phone. Was it wrong? Yes, but he had other things to worry about right at that moment. A call from his mommy wasn’t a priority.
“Emma?” Reggie said into the phone. “What’s going on?”
She calmly explained that situation the best she could. How could you tell a mother that her child nearly died, again? This was getting to be a habit, and not one she liked.
“Is he safe?” the woman asked. “We could come there. Christopher and I can be on the next flight.”
“We’re good, Mom. Dante has already arrived, and we have it under control.”
“You wouldn’t be lying to cover for him, would you?”
“I would never lie to you, I swear. I’m watching him like a hawk.” Then, she changed the topic. “How was vacation?”
When it worked, she let out a pent up breath. Thank God for small miracles. Her husband owed her for this one. She’d distracted the big scary momma bird from storming the city.
For now.
Croft dropped down in his desk chair and picked up the phone. “Yes, Director?” he asked, hoping it was going to be Ethan and not Elizabeth Blackhawk.
“Greyson, what the hell is going on there?” Ethan asked.
It was funny, since his mother just asked the same thing. “Oh, which part, Ethan? The part where I have a killer picking off FBI agents, a testy police department breathing down my ass, media all over the damn place, or a would be briber poised to make my life a living hell?”
He understood and lightened up, sensing his director was ready to lose it. “What can I do to help? We need to put this to bed. You should see the national media on this one. I have people calling that I haven’t heard from in years, just to tear me a new one, and then to top it off, Gabe Rothschild just finished skinning my hide.”
Oh boy. This was about to get ugly.
It appeared that the Blackhawk well of sympathy had dried up. It was sad that it looked like his only way out of this was to be pink slipped. Was it wrong to hope?
“We have nothing. This killer is yanking my chain. There’s no DNA, no trail, and now it’s escalating,” he said, telling him about the messages, the faux blood all over the desk and Jane Pepper’s possessions.
“Are your profilers on it?”
“Yeah, I have two, and they both disagree. I’m going to be meeting with them again tomorrow morning to see what else they came up with.”
“Are they handling it okay?”
“I don’t know. I have Maggie Clark working one side, but she’s old school. She’s been doing this a while, and I’m afraid is stuck in that mindset. Then, I have Paris Archer on the other end giving me something totally different, and I worry he’s so new at this that we’re taking a big risk.”
“What do you feel?”
“My gut says Paris is on target. I don’t think this is a crapshoot. Killers are focused, right?”
“Generally. You just need to find why he’s doing this and you’ll have the pattern. My suggestion is, the next time you have a body, take a profiler there to examine the scene. It’ll give them a better idea. Paper is one thing, but up close and personal always helps me. I’ve found good leads as I stared at the surroundings.”
Greyson went silent.
“What?”
“It could be my fault.”
That made him pause. “Why do you say that?”
Croft told him about his past, what he did in the military, and the possibility that it could be something tied to him.
“Want me to look at the data?”
Ethan Blackhawk was the king of profiling. Asking that was akin to asking if he wanted to breathe today. “Please.”
“Okay, send me what you have tomorrow, after your profilers give you anything. I’ll dig through it. Call me and let me know when it’s coming. Saturdays in our house are hellish. I’ll have to bribe the family to let me have down time.”
“I’m sorry, Ethan.”
He was more relaxed. “Are you doing your best?”
“Yes.”
“Then carry on. I’ll keep Gabe off your back, at least for now.”
That took some pressure off. “How are you going to do that? No one can stop the ‘Dragon Slayer’.”
Blackhawk disagreed. “He’s afraid of Elizabeth.”
For the first time that day, Greyson genuinely laughed. “He’s a smart man. Your wife is scary.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, my friend. Just keep going, and I’ll see what I can do. Watch your back tomorrow at the auction. There’ll be undercover agents all over the place, so try and focus on Emma. You need to play the role of proud husband, not the director of the most corrupt city in America.”
“Got it, and for the record, I am proud of her.”
Blackhawk laughed. “As you should be. Your wife should be your priority. Keep me updated.”
The line went dead.
Emma had heard most of the conversation. Now, her husband looked three days past frazzled. She was worried about him. Hanging up with his mother, she tried to offer any support she could.
“What’s next, Grey?” she asked, letting him drive the bus. He tended to be less stressed when he had control over a situation.
“We need to get the team together. I want to make sure everything is taken care of before we head out for the night.”
She followed him out to his secretary. Linda was just getting ready to leave.
“Director, here is everything that needs to be signed and on my desk by Monday morning. Mostly, it’s requisitions for the lab and other equipment. I prescreened it, so it’s a matter of just signing your name on the dotted line.”
She handed him a pile.
Already, he knew he could kiss the next few hours goodbye. He was going to be up late working on this mess. There were days being director was nothing more than a pain in his ass.
“Don’t look so worried. I made sure the team didn't try to buy a beach house in Maui.”
He was grateful she did that for him. At least he could just sit and sign. Maybe he’d regain use of his hand by the morning.
“Also, Captain Stout called. She’s requested anything that’s related to the case be handed over to Detective Bristol. I told her that I needed to clear it with you first, since I know you have that rule about you clearing all requests.”
“Thank you, Linda.” If he played nice, maybe his wife wouldn’t suffer in the long run. “You can send the detective what he needs.”
Linda checked that off her mental list. “I hope you have a good night tomorrow, and stay safe,” she said, shutting down her desktop.
Croft carried his pile of papers toward the room where Paris was camped out. Inside, he and Tessa were buried in the files. “We need a quick meeting, before I head out. Meet us in the conference room.”
When he walked away, his agents knew there was trouble on the horizon. “Wow, he looks stressed,” Tessa said, grabbing her tablet. She had no doubt in her mind that this was going to be a terse meeting.
She followed Paris out. “Well, let’s hope we all get through this in one piece,” she stated.
Paris knew that was his major concern.
In the conference room, they all took a seat. There was tension humming around everyone.
“I need something, and soon,” he said, explaining that the higher ups were having issues with watching Vegas implode on the nightly news.
Curtis and Brynn were ready for them. “We have a few things,” he stated, pulling out his notes. “We did our interview, and it seems new information came to light.”
That piqued his interest. At this point, he’d take just about anything.
They told him about the doctor’s suspicion regarding Billy Lewis’s drug addiction, Jane Pepper being on Xanax, and Linda not updating the files when she received the paperwork. “We figured that we’d let you talk to your secretary, since it’ll be more scary coming from you.”
“I doubt she didn't update it on purpose. Linda is generally spot on with everything. She runs my office seamlessly.”
They agreed.
“As for the drug issue, we need to get back to Billy Lewis’s place and tear it apart. When the team swept it, they weren’t looking for contraband substances. They were doing a victim sweep.”
They all made notes.
“When we interviewed the doctor, he made it sound like Lester Williams may or may not have let his wife know about his Viagra.”
Paris looked up. “Why wouldn’t he tell his wife he was using it? Wouldn’t she know the difference?” Certainly, if he needed that extra help in the bedroom, Tessa wouldn’t be upset.
Would she?
He glanced over and she was smiling wickedly at him.
That look alone said it all.
Emma replied, “Maybe he wasn’t having a hard time getting it up for his wife, and needed it for someone else.”
Brynn added to that. “He did say that the man was having issues keeping up with his sex partner. Maybe Emma’s right and there was more than one. He wasn’t that old, and should have been able to handle one woman.”
All the men looked at each other.
“Think about it. If he was at home, satisfying his wife’s needs, but then had a mistress on the side, maybe he couldn’t keep up. Maybe it was too much on his libido.”
Croft wanted to kiss her. That was genius. “Emma, I married you for your brain.”
She laughed. “No one here buys that, Greyson, but thanks for at least trying.”
He grinned. “Did we try to find out if he has some action on the side?”
Everyone shook their head.
“Great. We have another angle to work. We’re going to look into drugs and cheating spouses.”
Curtis spoke up, “I don’t think they found any Xanax at Jane Pepper’s place. We may need to redo all the homes, just in case something is going on there. Maybe our killer is breaking in and taking the meds to sell or use.”
That was another possibility.
“The handprints could be cover for a theft. We never looked at that either.”
Emma needed to know. “What were your impressions of the doctor?”
Oh, Curtis had a big one, but it was personal not professional. After freaking Brynn out before with his possessiveness, he opted to keep his mouth closed.
“He was helpful, open, and tried to give us what we asked for. As for him being involved, we’d need to figure out how he could fit in. So far, he’s the only person to have a connection to every victim.”
“Do I need to tell you to find some way to connect him?”
“No, sir,” they all replied.
“I’m going to be working at home the rest of the night. If anyone needs me, you can reach me there. As you can see, I won’t be sleeping until next week,” he said, pointing at the pile of papers.
When he and Emma left, they all looked at each other.
“He’s going to be cranky tomorrow,” muttered Curtis. “We better find something.”
Paris rolled his neck. “Great. A little more pressure.”
No one knew why they were surprised.
They should be used to it.
* * *
Friday Night
When they arrived at Sky Villa, Greyson promptly headed into their room, changed his clothes, and took up residence on their couch. He sat there with his bourbon and the endless pile of paperwork.
It worried Emma as she watched him. Normally, he’d help her make dinner, and they would work together.
Now, he was isolating himself. If they had built his man den, there was no doubt in her mind that he would have holed up in there for the rest of the night.
Alone.
From the kitchen, she could see him run his hands through his hair as he signed paper after paper.
At one point, he practically chugged the bourbon.
Yeah, this was a very bad sign.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, breaking the silence.
“No.”
“Need help?” Emma offered.
“No.”
That’s all it took.
“You know, I like it better when you rage around like a mad man. At least you get the anger out, and it’s not eating away at you like this. I think you need to get it off your chest.”
He didn't glance up, only kept signing.
“Are you mad at me?”
At some point, something she’d ask would get more of a rise out of him than a blasé reply.
“No.”
Emma called him on it. “No lies, Greyson. That’s your rule, so adhere to it. We’re supposed to be a team, and you’re shutting me out. How about you tell me why?”
He stood suddenly and stormed to the liquor cabinet. Like the amber fluid pouring from the cut glass decanter, the pain flooded from him in a gush.
“This killer is mocking me. It’s as if he’s poking me. First, he kills my people, and then he grazes my neck with a bullet, now he’s challenging me with bloody messages.”
Emma let him vent like she had earlier.
“I’m worried that it’s my fault. Is this a sniper mimicking the crimes I’ve committed in my past? Is someone trying to get vengeance for some wrong I’ve committed? It’s driving me insane. All the possibilities are making me stumble up here,” he said, tapping his head as he chugged more bourbon.
Emma watched him drain more booze, and it worried her. Greyson had a one bourbon limit for a reason. More than that one glass seemed to intensify his emotions tenfold.
This was case in point.
They’d learned that lesson before in an explosive bout of sex that left him even more raw than before.
“Then, I’m panicked about the Booker issue. We still have no clue who took you or who wants to bribe me. I’m seriously at the point where I’m ready to hand the entire city over. They can have it. I quit!”
Emma moved toward him. “You don’t mean that, Grey. You’re all about the law and balancing the scales.”
He had been.
Now, he wasn’t so sure.
“I feel like it’s all piling on and burying me. I’m weighed down, and if something doesn’t give, it’s going to be me.”
What he wanted to say was ‘them’. In his heart, he was scared they would fall apart. If he lost Emma, he couldn’t do this. She was the glue that held him together.
She was his soul.
When he poured more bourbon, she knew she needed to do something. “We’ll get him. Eventually, he’ll make a mistake. We just need to stick with it, keep focused, and move forward. It’s a matter of time.”
“We don’t have a lot of that. With each bullet, I carry the guilt on my shoulders that I couldn’t save the person he takes down. They’re my people, and I’m responsible for them.”
Greyson was a man on
the edge, and Emma wasn’t going to let him tumble off. Walking over to him, she pulled the glass from his hand, just as he finished taking a sip.
He lifted an eyebrow, but said nothing.
“Tomorrow, you’ll have a wicked hangover, and that’s not going to help. Bourbon isn't the answer. Come with me,” she said, taking him by the hand.
Croft didn't know what to think. Never had his wife told him to stop drinking. Not that he minded, since she was definitely right. Someone needed to be thinking straight, and it certainly wasn’t him.
Once in their room, she locked the door. “Get naked.”
He started laughing. “So, sex is the answer? I’m good with that.”
Emma shook her head. “No, it’s not tonight’s answer. Just get naked and lie on the bed, face down.”
He knew what that meant. Hallelujah! He was going to get a massage. Emma had magic fingers, and this was going to be amazing. Greyson wished that he had more time to enjoy it. “I have to get back to work, so it has to be a quickie,” he teased, obeying his wife’s command.
Emma grabbed her lavender oil and climbed onto the bed, taking a seat right on his ass. Pouring some into her hands, she began rubbing his knotted muscles.
“Ohhhhh, honey,” he murmured, letting everything go for that brief moment. As her fingers moved over his flesh, a little of the stress fell away, and he was finally able to relax.
“Feel better, babe?” she asked, putting her weight into it.
“Yes,” he moaned.
As she worked the knots loose, it gave her great pleasure to run her hands over his body. Staring down at his back, her fingers caressed the muscles and ripples of flesh that he took pride in. Greyson Croft worked out almost every morning to keep his body this fine, and she appreciated it.
Next, she gently kneaded the tension from the back of his neck, just over the shrapnel scars. It was hard not to notice that she could have lost him, before ever even knowing him.
Lowering her lips to his ear, she whispered softly to him. “I love rubbing your back.”
He could barely focus. “I love having your hands all over me, Em.”
She continued massaging as she moved down his body, even covering his calves and thighs. It gave her great joy to pull a little of the stress from his body. Her husband worked hard to give them this lifestyle, and it cost him a great deal. Her big worry was his health.