“Just keep digging. Something has to show up for us,” he said, keeping his fingers crossed.
“Yes, sir. We’ll stay on it.”
Croft nodded to the team as he headed back to Emma and his office. Now, it was all going to come down to something he rarely based his cases on.
Sheer luck.
Yeah, they were completely screwed.
Greyson Croft may have finally met his match…
* * *
Wow, did he have a headache.
Apparently, that much beer and whiskey was a horrible idea. It all seemed like a good idea last night as he was pounding drinks and telling his co-workers what he suspected.
Granted, they ignored him, especially his ex-partner. There was still some bad blood between them. Again, it was all because of Emma and Greyson Croft. He and Mace Bristol had worked well together, until they rolled into Vegas.
Then, it all went to hell in a hand basket
But that was going to change.
Things were looking up.
As soon as he could take this information to Commissioner Ford later today, he was going to be getting a commendation, and the Crofts would be getting some negative publicity. If he had his way, they’d be drummed out of the city for missing the obvious. It was cop one-oh-one.
He couldn’t help but grin, despite the pain.
Now, it was time to get some coffee, take a shower, and get ready for an ass kicking. The media was going to be out for blood- the FBI’s. He should look his best today in case it was his face in the paper tomorrow morning.
Yeah, he hoped there would be a huge write up about how the local hero saved the day, while the Feds looked like fools.
He’d never been in the paper before, and the prospect thrilled him. Whipping out a text, he sent it to his partner, Heath Spencer, telling him that he was taking the day off.
After all, he’d worked all weekend on the FBI case and needed time to go over the last minute details before passing it off. Granted, it wasn’t completely solved, but it was enough to give the Feds a clear path to follow.
Wouldn’t they be sorry they implied he was incompetent?
Yeah, that was all over now.
Sending the message, he got the reply and the teasing comments about him being hung over. It didn't bother him. Let them all laugh. He knew the truth. He was going to be a hero and have the spotlight.
Rubbing his hands together, he headed down for his coffee. That had to be the first thing on his list, along with a handful of aspirin.
As he poured, he heard something behind him. All the cop instincts buried under the booze haze kicked in, and he spun around.
The shot was shocking.
As was the pain that radiated through his chest and body as he slid to the floor.
Horror filled him, as he realized one very important thing. Oh, he was going to be in the paper all right, but it was going to be an obituary, bidding him farewell.
* * *
Waking up was so much harder today than ever before. His entire body ached, well, up to his waist. Everything from his hips to his toes was mysteriously gone.
Panic set in, and he was terrified to open his eyes. Once he did, the truth would be out. Paris would be forced to face the cold reality of it all.
He was beyond broken.
As he went to move his arm, he found that they were immobilized, and that made the gravity of the situation far worse. If he was strapped down, so no part of him could move, his back was definitely jacked up.
Shit.
His life as he knew it was over.
There would be no more running with Tessa, or chasing her around the house as he tried to catch her. There would also no longer be sex.
Oh God.
His heart pounded while the fear filled him. He was going to spend the rest of his life alone. Tears formed in his eyes as he was forced to open them. There was a small whimper as the pain and anguish escaped
It was official.
His hell was about to begin.
She swore he made a sound.
Tessa stood, moving to Paris’s side. As she took his hand in hers, there were tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. “Paris?” she whispered softly.
He knew he couldn’t hide forever.
“Tessa?” he murmured, his mouth dry from the hours of sleep and lack of fluids.
She squeezed his bound hand and hope filled her. “Oh, God, Paris!” she said, ready to break down again. With her free hand, she wiped the tears from his face. When he stared up at her, it wasn’t lost on Tessa that he looked scared.
He struggled to move.
“Lie still, sweetheart,” she said, gently bringing her mouth down to his to kiss him. “I never thought I’d get to do that again,” she said, honestly. “You’ve scared the hell out of me.”
She wasn’t the only one.
“I can’t move, baby. How bad is it?”
Tessa told him everything, watching his face for the emotions which she knew were coming. When he closed his eyes and sighed, she knew he was emotionally broken inside over all of this.
“You’re going to walk again, Paris. I’ll make sure of it,” she vowed.
His heart skipped in his chest at her optimism. His sweet Tessa always saw the bright side of things. He, unfortunately, didn't, especially this time.
“Oh, God, Paris! I missed hearing your voice,” she admitted.
Paris was struck with the fear once more. “Are you safe, Tessa? Did I hurt you when I took you to the ground?”
She shook her head. “No, but I’m going to hurt you for doing this. You shouldn’t have risked your life, Paris. I would have sacrificed me for you.”
“I couldn’t stare down at your body on the ground, Tess. I couldn’t live with myself if you died. My heart aches thinking about it. I’d die for you, Tessa.”
She needed the contact, and leaned down to kiss him again. “We’ll get you back on your feet. The doctor said it’s not going to be easy, but we’ll get there.”
He had to know. It killed him to ask. “If I don’t, are you going to leave me, Tessa?” he asked softly.
She looked horrified that he would even think that, let alone say it out loud. “I’m going to take time off from work as soon as you’re home. I’ll be taking you to therapy every day until you’re back on your feet. Director Croft already told me that I’m covered.”
Part of him was healed by her words, and the other part was damaged further. Her life was changing now too.
And not for the better.
“I’m sticking by your side, Paris. I swear to God.”
Bringing her mouth down to his, she offered him her vow, by sealing it with a kiss. It was full of heat and warmth. As usual, Tessa gave him everything in her, and Paris took it. Right now, he was trying to push back the fear and cold.
As she broke away, he stared up into her green eyes and prayed he could get the words out. “If you want to be set free, Tessa, no one would blame you. I’ll let you go, so you can live.”
For the second time that morning, she was appalled. “Shut up, Paris!” she stated, trying not to let the smile slip from her face. It hurt her that he would even say those words to her. It killed her that he was willing to give her up so easily.
Didn't he know that what they had was more to her than just a physical relationship? If he never walked again, when she looked at him, she would only see one thing.
Her hero.
Tessa prayed it was the fear talking, and nothing more. Still, a knot formed in her gut, as terror began clawing its way back to the surface.
“Is he awake?” came a voice.
Paris recognized it immediately. “Mom?”
She raced to his bedside, squeezing his hand in hers. “Oh, Paris. You’ve scared the hell out of us.”
His dad joined her at his side. “Son, you’re trying to kill us, aren’t you?”
Paris laughed. “I’m sorry. If you’re scared shitless, imagine all the things g
oing through my brain,” he offered honestly.
Tessa stroked his cheek lovingly, as she tried to offer him peace and reassurance that it was all going to be okay. As long as he was hurt and trying to battle back, she would be his biggest cheerleader and support. There wouldn’t be a day that went by that she would desert him.
“Mom, Dad, this is my Tessa. She’s the woman I told you about,” he said, clutching her hand in his. “She’s the only woman I’ve ever cared about, and she’s the love of my life.”
They had heard the last part of the conversation shared privately between them. “We’ve seen how much she loves you, Paris. Tessa is now part of our hearts too.”
* * *
Monday Mid-Morning
It seemed that frustration was going around, much like a transmittable disease. The boss man was fraught with it, and now so was Curtis Briggs and Brynn Westmore.
Granted, they’d gotten access to Paris’s files on his tablet, but they couldn’t decipher them.
In fact, they looked like nothing more than gibberish.
“I give up,” he said, pushing it toward Brynn. “I’m getting a headache trying to figure out what he has saved here. Have you ever seen anything like it before?”
Brynn picked up the tablet and shrugged. “It looks like some version of shorthand, but it’s none I’ve seen. I think it’s a language that only Paris will understand, which makes sense. It is his personal work tablet. It’s not like anyone else is going to be using it.”
It still made him crazy. Curtis was good at hacking and cracking things, but not this gibberish. This was like nothing he’d ever encountered before, and the same was true for all the FBI software.
As Brynn slid the tablet back toward him, her cell phone rang. “Detective Westmore.”
“It’s Captain Stout. How are you, Detective?”
Brynn’s whole body went on alert. This was the first time her boss had ever called her on her phone. It couldn’t be good. Placing it on speaker, she replied, “Tired, but still working, Captain. What can I do for you?”
“I tried to call your partner, but it went to voicemail. We have a situation here at the station, and we thought you’d like to be made aware of it.”
“Okay, shoot,” she said, picking up her pen and getting ready to scribble it down.
“In accordance with interdepartmental cooperation, I’m calling to tell you that we have a young woman here who came in to file an abuse report. She’s pretty banged up and looks like hell.”
Brynn wasn’t getting it. “Okay, and?”
“She’s the girlfriend of a Marcus White. She mentioned to the officer who interviewed her that the FBI had been out there earlier. I wanted to pass this along to Director Croft. Can you relay it?”
This was huge and could be the information they needed to break this case wide open. “I’ll run right in now and tell him, Captain! Thank you so much for your call!”
“Yes, well, I promised to try and play nice.”
Curtis looked just as excited. “The FBI appreciates it,” he said, standing. When Brynn disconnected the call, they both stared at each other.
“We have to tell the boss man!”
With that, they raced from the conference room to give him the good news. When he heard this, Croft was going to do cartwheels.
Finally, something was going their way.
~ Chapter Eighteen ~
Arriving at the police station, Emma took charge. After all, they were now on her turf. It wasn’t that she didn't trust her husband to run the show, but Feds and cops didn't always mix.
Inside, she found one of the few people she trusted. “Mace, what’s going on?” she asked, as Greyson remained at her side.
“An officer found a battered woman roaming the streets. She was walking to our office two hours ago. At first, when he brought her in, she wanted to talk to the FBI. The officer didn't think it was pertinent, because she wouldn’t give us anything. You never know when it’s alcohol or drug related.”
She was with him so far.
“So, upon further questioning, we found out that her live in boyfriend, Marcus White, got drunk and smacked her around. He did a number on her too.”
“Okay.”
“Then, she told us that he didn't have an alibi. She’d lied to keep him from hurting her, but since he struck her again, she was spilling the beans.”
That piqued Croft’s interest.
That alone was enough for a search warrant.
Emma perched on the corner of his desk. “What else?”
“As soon as she mentioned that your team had been there to question him, we backed off. No one wants to compromise this case for the FBI. So, she’s sitting in the lounge with a female officer and some food. We’re trying to make her as comfortable as possible.”
“Thank you, Mace.”
“We also had cops head to the house, when she said that her old man wailed on her. No one answered the door, so the officers left. When the boss got in not too long ago, we informed her and she called you.”
Croft held out his hand. “I appreciate it, Mace,” he said, sincerely.
“It’s all good, Director. We all have our directives from the two ravens,” he said, alluding to his connection within the FBI.
He nodded.
Emma placed her hand on his arm. “I should do the interview, even though I’m not a Fed,” she stated. “If her boyfriend abused her, the last thing she needs to see is some big scary man in the room with her.”
He grinned wickedly. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied, pulling out his phone. “I’ll go call for a search warrant. Come get me if you need me,” he said, leaning down to kiss her before walking away.
“Greyson!” she hissed in horror. He was well aware that he shouldn’t be kissing her in front of a room full of her peers. They’d bust her ass unmercifully.
Mace laughed sardonically. “My wife used to get mad at me for kissing her too. Only, she just didn't love me anymore.” The pain was raw in his voice.
Emma dropped a hand on his shoulder. “If you want to talk about it, Mace, we’re here.”
He shook his head. It didn't matter, because he couldn’t undo what fate had put on his plate.
Heading to the lounge, Emma dismissed the officer inside as she took a seat. “Hello, I’m Emma Croft.”
“Are you the FBI?”
“No, but I’m married to the man who runs the office in Vegas. He sent me in to talk to you.”
She stared at her suspiciously. “How do I know that you’re not lyin’? People lie a hell of a lot here.”
Emma smiled reassuringly at the young woman. It was obvious that she’d been a castaway on the street, and the only education she received was through the college of hard knocks.
“I’ve seen him on the TV. He’s a fine man, he is.”
That gave her an idea. Pulling out her phone, she pointed at the spot beside her on the couch. “May I sit beside you and show you some pictures of us?”
The woman looked suspicious. “I guess so.”
Emma took a seat and pulled up a picture of them standing by a pool on their honeymoon. “Here we are last fall,” she said, showing the woman. “If you flip through, you’ll see more,” Emma offered, trying to build her trust.
When she got to the close up, the woman whistled. “Whew wee, he’s got some body on him.”
She grinned. “Yeah, I think so. I find myself staring at him all the time. When you fall in love that seems to happen, doesn’t it?”
Her lower lip quivered and she touched it with her fingertips. Obviously, she was battered and abused more than just physically.
“What’s your name?” she asked, trying to further break the ice.
“Missy.”
“Well, how about you tell me everything? Then, we’ll get you into a place that will keep you safe. You don’t have to go back there. We can find an option to make your life better, not worse.”
She nodded.
“Okay, tell
me about it.”
“He was drinkin’ up a storm today. I was scared out of my mind.”
Emma took her hand. As a cop, she’d dealt with lots of women who had been emotionally, and physically, the victims of drunken men. Granted, most didn't end well for them. They took their last ride to the morgue.
“He saw something on the news and went squirrelly. I’ve never seen him this wild before.”
“Was he drinking before hand?” she asked.
Missy nodded. “Then, he yanked out a clump of my hair!” she pointed to the missing patch of blonde curls. “He’s wicked mean when he’s drunk. I only pointed out that the FBI was going to be comin’ back to talk to him again. I know their big on finding out the truth.”
Emma made notes.
“You lied about being his alibi before, didn't you? When Agents Archer and Brass showed up, you didn't tell the truth.”
She shook her mop of blonde hair. “No, I lied,” she whispered. “My momma would whip my hide if she knew. I just didn't want to get hurt,” Missy added. “He likes to be the boss. You don’t know how hard that is.”
Oh, she was well aware. Her husband was a caveman, but he’d never hurt her. Some cavemen were still gentle underneath it all.
“Go on,” Emma urged.
“So, I asked him why he was so worked up over the FBI, and he lost it. He ain’t big on being questioned. I just didn't see it coming.”
Emma felt for the woman.
“So, he hurt me, and something in me said run, so I did. I ain’t dyin’ for no man! He’s not that good in bed.”
Greyson Croft stuck his head in the door, hoping that his wife had it under control. When she motioned him in, he entered. The woman on the couch moved back into the cushions, and it made him angry. She looked like a beat down child.
“Hey, I’m Greyson,” he said, sitting as far from them as possible.
“Whew wee, you are even finer in person, Mr. Director.”
Love is Bleeding (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 4) Page 41
