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

by Morgan Kelley

  Croft only grinned at his woman.

  His kitten’s words were the ultimate compliment to the Neanderthal from his cave babe.

  “Yeah, I’m okay with that.”

  * * *

  When Dante rolled in after one, he saw the wreckage and couldn’t help but laugh. There were clothes strewn all over the place. It was quite obvious that one of the Croft boys didn't strike out.

  In fact, from the look of it, it was a downright mêlée. Picking Emma’s clothes from off the floor, he folded the dress and laid it over the arm of the couch. Doing the same, he grabbed his brother’s gun and tuxedo jacket.

  He had to laugh.

  The people he loved had a great relationship, and Dante was envious. Although for now, he had some romantic prospects on the horizon, and that made him want to stay in Vegas, forever.

  As long as he was welcome there, he was going to try and make this his home. This was the first time in years that he honestly felt like he belonged and was safe. Whenever he was near his brother, there was always that knowledge that he’d take care of him. Not that he needed a babysitter, but Greyson was just that kind of man. He exuded confidence, love, and strength.

  That made him happy, especially after having the talk with Emma. They wanted him there, and the reaffirmation that he couldn’t disappoint his brother helped.

  He had a safe place to exist, just under the radar of all the things he was running from. Part of him knew that he should ‘man up’, and just tell his brother the truth, but he was worried.

  Screw that. There was fear. No one wanted to be rejected, especially by the ones they loved.

  Greyson was a god in the eyes of so many, and he had big shoes to fill. If anything, tonight was proof of that. His big brother was a powerful man who didn't have to prove himself. He was already living the life.

  Part of him was worried about failing, and the rest was scared to upset his family.

  After all, he grew up knowing who he needed to emulate.

  Now, he wasn’t.

  Dante sighed as he headed toward his room. There was no point worrying. Eventually, it would all come out.

  Then, he hoped he’d still have his brother’s love.

  Or at least his protection from what was coming.

  * * *

  Sunday Morning

  Maggie Clark yawned as she sipped from the coffee cup in her hand. It had been a long night of working on the profile for her boss, but finally it was done.

  When she handed it off to him later in the morning, she was going to crash for a few hours. It wasn’t easy getting into the minds of madmen, and it was even harder when you had some young FBI pup yapping at your heels.

  Granted, she understood the purpose of training the next generation, but it was hard to accept that it was possible she was past her prime. Her heart wasn’t in it anymore. Maybe it was time to call it a career. After all, it was best to go out on a high note, and not with your tail between your legs. At this point in the ride, it could teeter either way.

  Glancing down at her watch, she noticed that it was still early. If she was lucky, there could be more coffee and the morning paper before she left for work.

  Heading toward her door, she stretched in the morning sunlight. The paper was further down her driveway that morning. Obviously, the paper boy must be having a bad day too.

  It made her laugh. She only wished that were the only pressure in her life. Unfortunately, there was far more stress on her shoulders.

  Bending over, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. There was something on the hood of her white SUV. Glancing over, coffee and paper in hand, realization dawned.

  It was a bloody handprint. Just like the ones that she’d seen in the files in her home.

  She gasped as her brain had one last moment to distinguish the sound of a gun. Then, there was a flash of pain and nothingness.

  Maggie Clark got her retirement wish.

  Only, she never saw this one coming.

  As her body fell to the ground, coffee cup shattering, brains splattering, and blood gushing, there was silence.

  There was death.

  Six hundred feet away, the killer loaded the gun for the second shot. Hidden deep in the brush out of sight, there was going to be one more death yet to come on that sunny Sunday morning. Maggie Clark had paid, and now the agent who would arrive would be right behind her.

  For now, it was time to wait.

  As the neighbors began milling around and screams filled the air, the shooter merely smiled.

  Payback was a bitch.

  * * *

  When he awoke, he was alone in bed. After a long night of enjoying his wife, he had managed to oversleep. Despite being tired, he felt good.

  Damn good.

  Last night was pretty spectacular. After Emma had fallen asleep, he called down to the desk to let Curtis and Dante back in. In his mind, he knew that he should have gone out to pick up their things, but he just didn't care.

  Either a warm naked woman or tidy living room?

  Yeah, that was a no brainer.

  He stayed put.

  It wasn’t like his brother and Curtis were going to be shocked. Greyson was pretty sure that they all knew his plans. Of course he was going to get his babe naked, and then make love to her. If he didn't, he should be checked out by a doctor.

  Unfortunately, he noticed that the woman in question was nowhere to be seen. That meant, she was likely in the kitchen.

  Well, where she went, he was going to follow. Pulling on his boxers, he headed out. On the couch were their things, folded neatly, and he felt bad that she had to take care of it.

  Then, he found her.

  Emma was in the kitchen, mussed up hair, bare legs and his tuxedo shirt covering her body. How could he not get turned on by that sight? His woman was wearing his things.

  It was incredibly erotic.

  “Thanks for cleaning up the mess,” he said, approaching.

  Emma glanced over her shoulder as she leaned into the refrigerator. “It wasn’t me. I thought it was you.”

  Oh well, it was someone. Since the other two didn't pay rent, the least they could do was clean up.

  “You look sexy this morning,” he said, checking out her back side. When she bent over, there was a peek of panties. It made his mouth water.

  “Surely, I’ve worn you down,” she said, laughing. When she saw the look on his face she shook her head. “Or not.”

  “How about a kiss, kitten?” he asked, waiting for her to come to him. When she went into his arms and placed her mouth heatedly against his, Croft knew the truth.

  The lady doth protest too much.

  “Jesus, can you two come up for a breather?” asked Dante, as he wandered into the room. Curtis was laughing not far behind him.

  Croft took his time with the kiss. When he was good and ready, he glanced over at them. “I’m not sure if you noticed this or not, but on the mailbox downstairs, it says Emma and Greyson Croft. From that alone, and the big fat mortgage payment each month, one can imply that this is ‘Castle Croft’. Plus, we’re newlyweds. If I wasn’t kissing my wife, you’d tell me I was old and impotent. Now I am kissing her, and you’re bitching. Get over it.”

  Emma giggled. “How was your night, boys?”

  Curtis shrugged. “I didn't have sex with the girl, because I’m trying to not jump into bed and rush things.”

  Dante went next. “We headed out and had dinner. I too came home alone. I didn't think you’d appreciate more house guests this morning.”

  Croft grabbed his coffee and laughed manically.

  Emma warned him. “Don’t do it, Greyson Thaddeus Croft.”

  “Come on! I’m the only male in the place getting the babe, and you won’t let me gloat? Not even a little?”

  She winked at him. “Okay, a little.”

  “Multi-room sex, my friends, and that’s all I’ll say,” he offered, grinning.

  Both men picked their coffee cups
up off the counter and looked around in horror.

  Emma started snickering.

  “Please,” he continued. “We have three bedrooms. I don’t use the kitchen counters.”

  Curtis sipped his coffee. “Yeah well, two of those rooms are being used.”

  “Huh, you don’t say,” he teased.

  Now, both men looked back and forth, trying to ascertain if he was kidding.

  Just then, Croft’s phone rang. “Shit,” he muttered, when he saw the number. It was the weekend operator exchange. They only dialed his number when they were being called out.

  He nodded and listened. “Send me the address. I’ll get my team there right away,” he said, hanging up the phone. Glancing over at his wife, and partner, he pointed at his watch. “Curtis, notify Archer and Brass. Tell everyone to suit up. We roll out in five minutes. The killer struck again, and this time at the residence of the victim.”

  Emma raced to their room, the men behind her. “Who did he kill?” she asked.

  “We have a dead profiler. Maggie Clark was killed twenty minutes ago.”

  “Damn,” muttered Emma.

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  * * *

  Pulling up to the scene, they noticed that the police were there, guarding the perimeter of the driveway. Already the media was circling, trying to interview Maggie Clark’s neighbors.

  As they approached, Croft ordered the FBI agents to pull the vans up to block the victim. They’d keep the media from getting any pictures before they could alert Maggie Clark’s family.

  As they strode toward the body, he was sickened by what he saw. There on the ground was the body of another one of their team.

  “It looks like she came out for the paper,” stated Brynn, pulling on gloves as she crouched beside the body.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” answered Croft. “This pisses me off. Now, I don’t know if she was part of the big picture or if she was killed because she’s our profiler. Did she die because the killer knew she was close?”

  Emma didn't have the magic answer for that. “I’m sorry, Grey,” she offered, looking around.

  Paris Archer and Tessa Brass jogged up the driveway. “We’re here, boss,” she said, pulling out her tablet.

  Crouching beside the team, Tessa stared at the dead woman. “This whole case is confusing as hell.”

  No one was going to argue with her there. From the start, they’d had absolutely nothing to work with, and it looked like that was going to continue being the current trend.

  “Tell me what you see, Paris,” Croft said, pointing at the woman. “We lost Maggie, so now this is all lying on your shoulders,” he said. “I don’t mean to put the pressure on, but I need your brain now.”

  Paris stood in the center of it all and turned in a circle. When his eyes got to the hood of her SUV, something caught his attention, and he wasn’t the only one.

  “Why would the killer put the handprint outside?” Croft asked, as they all moved closer to the vehicle. This was definitely something new.

  Paris analyzed it. Weighing it against everything he knew about the case. “It shouldn’t be here. The only reason the killer would put it out here was if he couldn’t get into the house, or wanted us to stand here.”

  All the hairs on the back of Greyson Croft’s neck stood on end. He turned fast and saw the glint of a scope across the field. “GET DOWN!” he yelled, as there was the sound of a bullet being fired.

  Everyone did as he said.

  Greyson pulled Emma down to the concrete, trying not to hurt her. Curtis did the same thing for Brynn.

  Paris too saw the glint and reacted instantly, throwing his body over Tessa’s as they tumbled to the ground.

  Instantly, he knew it was too late.

  Silence filled the area, when finally Greyson glanced over at his team. “Anyone hurt?” He didn't hear a bullet impacting anything and that scared him shitless.

  Briggs and Agent Westmore rolled to their knees, but Tessa and Paris didn't move.

  “Oh God!” she shouted, getting their attention. She could smell the blood as it ran onto her body.

  “Don’t move me,” Paris said, the pain burning through is body. “I can’t feel my legs.”

  Tessa remained incredibly still.

  Croft pulled out his phone and called for an ambulance. Then, he ordered the team into action. “Behind the houses there’s trees and hilly land. I saw a scope. I need ten agents to grab tactical guns and find this asshole!”

  The agents scattered.

  Tessa delicately moved her hand to his back. She could feel the wetness and damaged flesh. “Oh, Paris! God, please talk to me,” she begged, holding him in her arms. She couldn’t believe this.

  He was shot.

  “It’s okay, Tessa baby. I’m here,” he said, not moving his head. It was resting on her neck.

  The rest of the team crawled over. Greyson got to his knees to inspect at the man’s injury. “Paris, it’s your lower back. The bullet went through the Kevlar.”

  “I didn't have it double plated,” he said, recalling how he took them out of his for Tessa’s vest the other day. He was supposed to replace them, but it had slipped his mind.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes.

  “Don’t move, Paris. Tessa, you have to stay still. If he’s going to be paralyzed, it’ll happen by moving him.”

  She slowed her breathing down and listened to her boss. She had to let her brain stop overthinking this, or the man she loved would be injured further.

  He moaned in pain. “It hurts,” he whispered, trying to focus on the woman beneath him. Her scent was there. If he could just focus on that, he might be okay. He could feel the pulse in her neck, as it throbbed against his lips.

  Tessa didn't know how bad he was hurt, but she did know that if she was going to lose him, he needed to know. “Paris, you have to fight for us, sweetheart. I can’t do this without you. I can’t go home and know you’re gone. I need you, Paris. You have to promise me you’ll stay with me.”

  “I’m sorry, Tessie. I should have married you.”

  Tears filled her eyes at his words. “This isn't goodbye, Paris. You need to stay with me. Please don’t abandon me. Please, Paris. I need you,” she begged. It wasn’t easy to not weep and pull him into her body.

  The entire situation was so raw with emotion that even Emma and Brynn’s eyes filled with tears, as they placed their hands on Paris’s vest to keep him still.

  “I love you so much, baby. There was only you,” he whispered. “Tell my parents I love them,” he whispered, as his vision began wavering.

  “Paris, please,” she pleaded more, unable to hold onto him.

  With all he had left, he kissed her neck.

  “Paris!” she shouted, feeling the kiss and praying it wasn’t a goodbye. If he left her, she’d never be the same again. It all came rushing back. The last few days and the moments they shared.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Tessa needed more.

  She needed him to stay with her until they were old. He’d made a huge sacrifice, throwing himself over her, and now she was going to lose him.

  Tessa would have rather it been her.

  She couldn’t live without him.

  “Paris!” her voice became hysterical as an ambulance pulled up. “Please, God! Someone help him!” she pleaded, staring up into the eyes of the people over them.

  Tessa could feel his arm slipping, as it slid off her body and landed with a sick ‘plop’ in the blood forming under their bodies.

  “No!” she screamed once more, praying that this was a nightmare and she’d wake up.

  Then, Paris would be there, beside her, safe and smiling.

  It had to be a dream.

  This was only a nightmare…

  She desperately needed to wake up!

  * * *

  Damn it!

  How the hell did the bullet not hit its target?

  It was a clean shot, and
yet something gave it away.

  Staring at the chaos going on, there was very little time. Soon, Greyson Croft would have his people in the location.

  It was time to hustle.

  Picking up the rifle, the shooter began packing up everything that was there on the ground, most importantly the casing to the bullet.

  If anything, the killer’s big brother taught an important lesson. Never leave anything behind when you left the woods. Then, they could track you.

  That was the last thing needed at that moment. In a few minutes, the FBI horde was going to be on the hunt.

  For now, it was time to make an escape. The FBI agent wouldn’t escape for long. Once she was dead, all the loose ends who had hurt him would be gone.

  Justice would be paid forward, and Anthony could rest in peace.

  It was the only thing that mattered at that moment. Well, that and disappearing into the trees and getting the hell out of there.

  Tomorrow would be another day, and that would mean one more shot at it.

  With one last look and smile, the bearer of vengeance hustled out of there.

  To safety.

  Returning to the real world.

  Back home, to watch it all unfold on the news in mock indignation.

  * * *

  Sunday Mid-Morning

  Greyson was torn.

  He hated leaving half of his team on the scene and him not being there, especially when they lost one of their own, and one hung in the balance. Then again, he saw Tessa Brass’s face as they gently lifted a bleeding, unconscious Paris from her body on a backboard.

  She looked like a scared child, and Emma shouldn’t have to face this all on her own.

  Greyson couldn’t save Maggie Clark, but he could be there for the two people who needed him most.

  Paris and Tessa were moved up his priority list to the very top.