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

by Morgan Kelley

  “Holy shit! What was that for?”

  “I’ve learned a valuable lesson the last few days. It’s to make sure the last words to the ones you love are good enough to be the final ones you ever speak.”

  She was touched. “I love you, caveman.”

  Croft grinned wickedly. “Keep your sexy cave babe derrière behind me,” he stated, going there since she was tossing around his nickname.

  Emma grinned. “Aye-aye, Captain Croft.”

  “Arggggh,” he replied, in his mock pirate voice.

  With that, he motioned toward the team and headed toward the house. Everyone was quiet. There was barely a sound heard around them. When someone stepped on a branch, it sounded like gunfire over the com, that’s how silent it was. As they approached the house, Greyson pointed in different directions, sending two parts of his team around the sides of the dilapidated old home.

  Just in case.

  Not only was he worried about the fifteen men and women in blue and gold, he was worried about the one behind him who wore his ring. Working with your spouse was both heaven and hell. One mistake and you both would pay.

  He motioned to Emma and the three agents behind her. They were going to make a frontal approach. It was the most dangerous, and that’s why he was in the front. With their weapons out, they moved past the snarling dogs, ready to post the warrant.

  Up the stairs they moved, two on each side of the entrance. Greyson stuck the warrant to the door, giving his wife the signal to do the deed.

  Banging on the door, Emma got ready. “Marcus White. This is the FBI and police. Please open the door and come out with your hands up,” she shouted.

  This wasn’t her first time through the door, and for now, her concern was the man going in first. Her husband was stubborn and liked to believe he was titanium.

  After watching Agent Archer go down, she was more scared than ever.

  When he didn't reply, she banged on the door again. “Marcus White, we’ll be kicking in the door.”

  There were no sounds when the com came to life.

  “Boss, there’s no motion from the back,” stated Agent Gilbride. “We can see the front door. You’re clear to enter.”

  Croft nodded to his team. With his large shoulder, he hit it square and with all his body weight. It splintered, giving way. Immediately, the back door did the same thing and chaos broke out. The dirty living room was promptly filled with agents carrying guns.

  He motioned to half of the team to head toward the kitchen. They were going back to the bowels of the house. If he was hiding, this was going to be incredibly dangerous. In his chest, his heart pounded rapidly.

  Damn! He wished his wife was a school teacher.

  Then again, as of late, that was incredibly dangerous too. As they traversed down the litter strewn, darkened hall, Emma grabbed the back of his pull over.

  “Wait!”

  He stopped, thinking that he missed something. “What?”

  “Do you smell that?” she asked, sniffing the air to make sure she wasn’t mistaken.

  Greyson took a deep breath, and there it was. “It’s copper pennies.”

  There was only one door in front of them, so they knew where it was coming from. All the possibilities raced through both of their minds.

  For them to smell that out there, it had to be a great deal of spilled blood inside.

  Moving toward the door, he watched as his wife was preparing to go in first. He wanted to puke right then and there, and not because of the growing stench.

  “Emma!” he hissed, as she pushed open the door and headed in. They were going to have a discussion later on the meaning of ‘in front of’ and ‘behind’. Obviously, she was confused.

  Following her in, he scanned the room, ensuring his wife and he were safe.

  As they cleared the closet, and the hot mess that Marcus White and Missy were calling a bed, there was only one place left for the smell to be emanating from.

  The bathroom.

  “I’ll go through first,” he stated, putting his hand on the doorknob. Even though she was a cop, he was still the man. Yeah, that was incredibly chauvinistic, and that’s why it stayed locked away in his head.

  As he pushed the door open with the toe of his boot, they were assaulted with far more than just blood. It was a mix of internal body smells, and it was emanating from just behind the shower curtain.

  Preparing to pull it back, they both held their weapons pointed at whatever may possibly lie behind it. Emma counted them down, and when she held up three fingers, Croft ripped the curtain back.

  No matter how many bodies you came across as a cop, there was nothing more horrifying than a head wound, and in this case, nothing worse than one which appeared to be self-inflicted.

  There was a body in the tub, and it appeared to be that of a man. Since he’d placed the barrel of a twelve gauge under his chin, they were only guessing. The white wall behind him, where he was sitting, was plastered with bits and pieces of brain matter and blood. It appeared to be some sick, artistic masterpiece, created by the mentally unstable.

  “Well, we better call the ME,” stated Emma, pulling out her phone. She was pretty sure that the only person other than the members of their team, who was just as exhausted, was Steele Bentley.

  “Yeah, you better,” he said, holstering his gun. As his wife made the call, he took the time to examine the small cluttered bathroom.

  In the tub, Marcus White was sitting, the gun between his legs and a piece of paper on his knee. It was folded, and splattered with residue, but a name was still noticeable.

  “Honey, do you have gloves?” he asked, knowing she was fond of keeping them in her back pocket. While some women always had lip gloss, his Emma was packing latex. In some ways, she was his dream babe.

  “Yeah,” she said, hanging up the phone and pulling out a pair. “He made one hell of a mess in here,” she said, shaking her head.

  Greyson carefully took pictures of the mess, before removing the letter. He didn't want to mess up Doctor Bentley’s scene, but he didn't want the letter to soak up any more fluids either.

  Pulling it open carefully, a piece of flesh fell off and hit the side of the tub, sliding sickly back into the blood accumulating at the bottom.

  “Yuck,” Emma muttered.

  “Listen to this,” he said, reading the letter out loud.

  ‘Missy baby,

  I’m sorry. I know I crossed a line. There’s no doubt in my mind that you won’t be back this time. I shouldn’t have put my hands on you like that. I hope you one day find someone who deserves your hotness. If I can’t have you, I don’t want to live to see anyone be with you.

  Marcus.’

  Croft shook his head. “Yeah, that’s romantic. It’s a suicide, guilt laden, love note. Just buy your babe flowers and don’t knock her around. How hard is that?”

  She stared at him incredulously. “You have to be exhausted. You’re starting say loopy things.”

  He was three days beyond tired.

  “Let’s go see what the rest of the team found, and then head out to wait for the ME. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long afternoon here.”

  She didn't doubt that for a second.

  * * *

  Sitting there in the running vehicle, the gun was loaded and ready. There would be one last shot at Tessa Brass, and once she was dead, the list would be completely eradicated.

  The job would be finished, and then Anthony could rest in peace.

  He was driven from this world by their betrayal, and now he would be waiting for them on the other side. This had all been in memorandum for him.

  The pain of having him ripped from their lives was far too much to handle.

  Now, justice was almost complete.

  Just having her walking free was an insult to his memory.

  Even though there was this overwhelming need to rush out and take the remaining shot, one needed to be patient.

  If there was haste, there
would be a mistake.

  Everything had worked out over time, from using the idiot Lester Williams for information and silently watching the prey like a pro.

  It was all coming to a head.

  Or lack of one, as it would be.

  There was laughter, as the visual played over and over in a mind lost to obsession.

  This was for the lost, and it would happen.

  No matter what.

  None of this would be possible if the Feds and cops weren’t clueless. That had been the biggest advantage. Too often, people didn't see what was right in front of them.

  Well, soon, it would be time to slip into the darkness. It wasn’t like they could figure out who was behind it all. It wasn’t easy being a killer, but some people excelled at it.

  * * *

  One of the worst places to have to examine a body was in a bathtub. No matter how many times he’d had to do it, over his ten years as a ME, he never liked it.

  Steele Bentley knew that the person committing suicide was trying to be proactive, by containing the mess, but unfortunately, it made his job harder. The tub indeed caught everything, but it was like fishing around in a biohazard body soup. Every now and then, a chunk of something nasty would fall from the ceiling, just barely missing his arm.

  “Well?” asked Croft, standing in the doorway of the now overly crowded bathroom.

  “Other than this person having taken off a good part of his face, I don’t know what I can share. I won’t know if it was a suicide until we test his hands for gunshot residue.”

  “What can you tell me?”

  “Not to eat the barrel of a twelve gauge.”

  Croft could see the man was a little testy, and in all honesty, he couldn’t blame him. They were all worn thin. “Are you okay? Normally, you’re in a far better mood than this.”

  He sighed. “I’m sick of headless corpses for the week.”

  Emma heard him, peeking her head around the corner. “Well, soon you’ll be working on a stroke victim,” she offered, pointing at her husband.

  He laughed. “Point taken.”

  “Give me something, Doc,” she asked, knowing that if the man was willing to cave, it would be for her. They had a solid friendship, built because of death and the stress of their jobs.

  Croft didn't think he’d answer, since the man just growled at him.

  “I know for a fact that he has a shot to the underside of his jaw. If his hands come back with residue, and there are no drugs in his system, I’ll be calling it suicide.”

  “Come on, you have more,” she urged. “We’ve done this dance before. I can bribe you with baked goods and a smile, if you want.”

  Croft knew this was part of his wife’s job, but it still irritated him. The doctor was grinning up at her with nothing but perceived adoration. It was like Emma was the damn pied piper, leading the male mice to her.

  Steele caved. “From the look of the trajectory, I would say that this is likely self-inflicted. So, you can run with that. If you don’t hear otherwise, that’s my findings.”

  “Seriously? I ask and you give me attitude, but she asks and you smile and cheerily spill what you have?”

  Emma grinned. Sometimes, it was a skill. Bribing the ME staff had taken weeks of careful planning. Monday was coffee and donuts, Fridays there was pizza. She took care of them, because in her job, they took care of her.

  “I’m not ashamed to say that she’s my favorite detective, and I have no qualms about pointing that out, especially to the subpar ones,” he replied, pointing at the bullet hole in the wall. It was funny to see the director all worked up, and he knew exactly how to do it.

  Steele had a feeling that it was only the beginning.

  Croft stared at him. Yeah, this man was dangerously close to having a caveman related incident.

  “The team pulled it, and it’s not the same caliber. Then again, walking in here, I notice that the place is like some firearms shop or a backwoods, hillbilly haven for illegal weapons.”

  That was accurate.

  “We’re confiscating all the guns to run them through ballistics. Something may pop and give us a murder weapon,” Croft stated, sending a text to Max to expect a large cache of firearms.

  “Well, if Doc has the autopsy, and Max has the lab work, that makes us done for the day,” Emma said, leaning against the wall. “We’ve been on duty non-stop, and are wrapping this up,” she said, getting him to follow her back down the hall.

  He stared at his wife. “So, the boss has spoken,” he said, entertained that his Emma was telling him what to do. It wasn’t like that wasn’t his plan anyway, since he was exhausted and mentally spent. “I remember when I actually decided when I got to leave a scene. It came with the big fancy title and great office.”

  Emma knew he was humoring her.

  “Yeah, yeah, your boss has spoken, but before we go home, shower, and try to forget all this death, we have a few stops to make.”

  Croft was willing to drive her to Mars, if it meant some downtime and not having to think about anyone missing a skull and half of their face.

  “We need to stop in and see Paris, drop some clothes off for Tessa, and make sure they don’t need anything.”

  In his exhaustion, he had forgotten the needs of the people he cared for. Luckily for him, his Emma hadn’t. “That sounds like a great idea, honey. I’m glad I have you.”

  “Oh, well, tell your secretary to say it with an extra anniversary present thrown in there.”

  He laughed. “You’re not going to let me forget that, are you?”

  Emma glanced back over her shoulder. “Not in this lifetime, Mr. Croft.”

  ~ Chapter Nineteen ~

  Deep down, neither Emma nor Greyson wanted to enter that hospital. Both had seen the end results of spinal injuries in their line of work, and it only made them ache for the person in the bed.

  There was no doubt in either of their minds, Paris Archer was going to have a very long road back. The scariest part was that most relationships couldn’t handle the stress and pressure. There could be depression, anger, and using the partner as a verbal punching bag out of frustration.

  It was going to be a battle. They only hoped the two new love birds could hold up under the weight of it all.

  When they arrived at the room, they found Tessa in a chair, not far from the head of Paris’s bed. He was strapped down and immobilized, but seemed to be focused on a book. As Tessa read to him, he answered and asked her to make notes for him.

  It appeared that he was working on his grad school assignments. Well, at least he was focused on something other than the situation.

  “I don’t know how you remember all this, Paris,” Tessa said, squeezing his hand.

  “It’s my big squishy brain matter,” he replied, glad that she wasn’t sounding nearly as depressed as he was feeling. He couldn’t even look at her. Paris was forced to stare at the ceiling, and sometimes the floor when they rotated him.

  “I think your brain is incredibly sexy,” she stated, reading him the next set of information.

  “Are we interrupting?” Emma asked, stepping into the room.

  Tessa stood up, still holding Paris’s hand. “No, come in,” she offered, glancing down at the man beside her. “We were just studying.”

  Paris waited until they stood by the bed before he spoke, “Hello, Director and Detective Croft. Curtis and Brynn were just here earlier. I’m certainly getting lots of visitors today.”

  “Yeah, I got their report that you cracked the big mystery of what was in the tablet,” Croft said, staring down at his agent. “I appreciate it.”

  “I was glad to help.”

  Emma leaned down and dropped a kiss onto his prone cheek. “I’m glad you’re awake,” she said, smiling at the man. “And it’s Emma. We had this discussion.”

  He smiled, despite his mood. The boss’s wife was always so sweet and pleasant. It was hard not to feel a little better when she was around.

  “W
e stopped in bearing gifts,” she said, handing a duffle bag to Tessa. “Go shower,” she said. “There’s your spare gear from your car, and here’s a pair of glasses for Paris,” she said, placing them on his face.

  He appreciated it. Now, he could see so much better.

  Tessa looked hesitant.

  “We’ll stay with him,” Croft stated, knowing why she looked worried. In that moment, Greyson knew that if they were to fall apart, it wouldn’t be because of Tessa. The look on her face said it all. She was in for the long haul.

  “I don’t know,” she replied hesitantly.

  “I got you some girly smelling shampoo,” Emma offered, knowing that Tessa needed a few minutes to decompress and clean up.

  “Go, Tess, I’ll be here when you come back. It’s not like I can sneak away,” he stated.

  There was a brief flash of pain on her face, then she buried it from him, but as she turned, Emma and Greyson could see the tears fill her eyes.

  “Thank you,” she said, heading toward the bathroom without saying another word.

  When she was out of earshot, Greyson said what he was feeling. Bullshitting the man wasn’t going to help him in the long run. “I know I’m your boss, and your personal life doesn’t really concern me, but I have to say something.”

  Paris stared up at them.

  “This whole thing sucks, and you didn't deserve it, but don’t let it hurt her. You didn't see how painful your words were just now. She’s carrying enough guilt over this.”

  It slashed at his heart that he was damaging Tessa. This was just another reason she’d be better off without him.

  Emma took that moment to escape. If they were going to have a man to man talk about women, it was best she didn't know what was bouncing around in her husband’s Neanderthal brain.

  “I’ll let you two talk.”

  When she was gone, he focused on his agent. “Son, why are you trying to push Tessa away?”