“What’s the plan?”
There was this nervous anticipation. If one thing went wrong, they were beyond screwed.
They were fucked.
“Word is that Randall Mason is having Emma Croft over in the next few days to play the piano for him. He bought that hour weeks ago, and she’s about to pay up.”
The one with all the power leaned back in the desk chair, feeling all hope ebb away.
“You are well aware that our guy can’t get to her inside that fortress. No one can get in! We’ve tried to eliminate him a few times and failed.”
There was laughter from the other side of the desk. “Oh, we can get our guy in.”
Hope began to return. “How?”
There was a sly grin. “What’s coming up on the social calendar?”
There was confusion. “I don’t know. What am I missing?”
This plan was so well constructed that bragging about it was nothing but pure pleasure. “We both know that Randall Mason is going to be hosting his ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ party. He throws it every year at this time. With his new Vegas show coming out with the same title, it’s going to be even bigger. I believe he’s been touting it as the biggest party ever! If you’re not invited, you’re a nobody in Vegas.”
Well, shit!
This was looking damn good.
There was copious laughter bubbling up as hope returned in full force. “Oh, you’re an evil genius. That free-for-all is the perfect cover to set up our plan.”
“Yes, I know. In fact, to make sure we pull it off, I managed to get us invites. It wasn’t hard. The old man didn't see it coming since we’re powerful in Vegas.”
Yeah, just not powerful enough…
“This is genius! I’m proud of you. This is perfect.”
“We’ll get our hired help in that night, and he’ll set it all up. Then, when the time is right, he can reenter the house when she’s playing for him. We’ll kill two birds with one stone. Randall Mason will die, power will be passed off to us, I mean you, and Emma Croft’s murder will take Greyson Croft to his knees.”
“I love it. I really think you’ve earned your place at my side. When I own Vegas, you’ll be incredibly rich.”
That was the plan. “Thank you. I didn't doubt that you’d see the beauty in its simplicity. This is going to be like taking candy from a baby. With all the costumes and production for the party, no one is going to notice him.”
There was a sense of relief.
This might actually work, ending Croft’s reign of lawfulness in Vegas once and for all.
“If she suffers, I’ll toss in a few bonuses for you.”
The laughter came again. While the money was nice, there were other reasons to take the old man down. “If you can get rid of Randall Mason, I’ll have my revenge. He thinks I’ve forgotten the years of hell he’s put me through. Well, it’s not going to happen. When he falls, I’ll take the money and be glad to do it too.”
“You’re vicious.”
“In Vegas, you have to be.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
~ Chapter One ~
Las Vegas
Eight Weeks Later
Normally, when you thought of hell, the preconceived notion of a place filled with flames came to mind. Unfortunately for Emma Croft, that wasn’t the case. Her hell was in the present, surrounding her as she tried to survive her day to day life.
The last two months had been torture for her. The night that she and her stubborn husband walked into their home to find Dante Croft in the arms of another man had changed everything.
At that moment, there was so much tension in her life. It wasn’t all related to the sudden outing that her brother-in-law was gay, or how it seemed to sideswipe her husband.
No, it was so much more.
Everything around them was adding up.
So far, they were at a standstill regarding the person who was trying to corrupt Greyson. There was this eerie silence as of late, and frankly, it was making them all a nervous wreck.
It was as if the rat had gone underground, waiting to strike when they least expected it.
To say it was unnerving would be an understatement.
Then add to it the normal pressures of having to live under the microscope of the media and all the gossip mills in Vegas. Everything they did was a free-for-all for the public fodder. For example, it took two weeks for the whispers to subside when Emma wore a dress in public that wasn’t form fitting.
Before she knew it, in the morning papers, she was expecting a child.
It was news to her.
Oh, and her husband.
They’d laughed about it, but each and every day, something new was dumped on their already burdened shoulders. It was tiresome to be asked when the baby was due, and to get the phone call from Greyson’s mother.
It took two weeks to convince her, with many tears from Reggie, that they weren’t planning to have children.
They weren’t secretly expecting.
She wasn’t knocked up.
And no, Reggie Croft wasn’t going to be a grandmother.
Each day was like an uphill battle, and Emma was worried that at some point, they’d lose their grip and slide toward the cliff. If that were to happen, there was no doubt in her mind they were doomed.
It was make or break time in their family.
She could sense it.
Since that fateful night of Dante’s outing, the nest had become very empty. Where at one point Emma had two men to lighten the tension, keeping her husband grounded, it was as if everyone had abandoned ship.
The crew bailed, leaving the captains to go down with what felt like the Titanic.
After Greyson stormed out of their condominium, shocked to find his brother locking lips with the ME, Dante did what he thought was best.
He made a break for it.
Going into his room, he packed up his rucksack and headed out. He didn't even tell her where he was going. Emma had to find out from Doctor Steele Bentley, when he apologized for making out in her home, that he was staying with him.
And yet, all of that was the least of her issues.
Some swapped spit was nothing compared to the maelstrom it had set free. Emma and Greyson’s well-ordered lives were thrown into upheaval with Emma walking a very fine line. Every day, without her husband’s knowledge, she headed down to the morgue to find out if Dante was okay, or if he needed anything. It was her hope that he’d come home and this bad dream would end.
She couldn’t help it.
Deep down, she was like his mother.
Amazingly, Dante had managed to evade her up to that point. Until one day, when she switched up her schedule, he made a miscalculation. Yes, he was trying to be stealthy, but she caught him. Try as he might, he wasn’t able to hide any longer. He and Steele were on their way out for lunch, and the jig was up.
Emma’s heart broke.
Dante looked miserable.
When he saw her, there were tears in his eyes. Emma would never forget the hug he gave her, holding onto her body as he refused to let her go.
He clung like a wounded child, so desperate to have what he’d lost back in his life.
She begged him to come home, but he wouldn’t relent. It appeared that sexy wasn’t the only trait the Croft brothers shared. Both men were very, very stubborn.
Neither was willing to budge.
Or meet in the middle.
Deep in the recesses of her mind, she actually believed if she could get the two men in a room together, after the fistfight and bloodshed, they’d make up.
Then, life could go back to happy.
Yeah, that was a huge pipe dream, and so the nest remained empty.
Plus, if losing Dante’s company wasn’t bad enough, Curtis Briggs, Greyson’s partner and her babysitter, had bailed too. At the first sign of conflict, he headed out.
Who the hell could blame him?
The tension in the condominium was so thick you
could cut it with a knife.
Everyone was living on eggshells while ‘King Croft’ angrily stormed about. While he didn't snarl and growl, it was plain to see that he wasn’t himself.
There was frustration.
Anger.
And confusion.
Emma believed that her sexy pirate was still off balance because of the whole thing. Here, all his life, he had a brother who professed his need to be just like his idol.
Now, he turned out to be gay.
That had to be the ultimate freak out for her husband. He was known for his Neanderthal tendencies, and this had to wound him to the core. Emma didn't doubt that in his mind, he was still trying to find a way to handle the shock.
He’d seen his brother making out with another guy. After all the years of believing the man was just like him, this had to ding up the ego.
Yeah, Greyson Croft was off-kilter.
Add to that, the loss of his partner and his surrogate brother, Curtis Briggs, who was spending most of his time at Brynn Westmore’s place. They’d just started dating again, and while he professed the need to move slow, he’d bailed as soon as he could.
It hurt them both, but the man didn't owe them anything. In fact, if she could run and hide, she would too. No one liked facing down the Croft tsunami without a chance of survival.
Emma wished she wasn’t feeling so deserted. In all honesty, while she got it, there was still anger. Lately, she was feeling the pressure of being stuck between them, and also the hurt that she was left to fend for herself.
They were family.
Weren’t they supposed to stick together?
Yeah, so much for that one.
Every night, she’d come home to wait for her husband. Before he’d arrive, there was hope his mood would be better. Unfortunately, it never was. So, they’d eat together and have a nightcap right before they’d head to bed.
To sleep…
Their sex life was slipping away, as was their marriage.
She could see it happening.
If someone didn't fix this mess, there was no way they were going to make it out alive.
There was this wall between them, and she couldn’t navigate it. No matter how hard she tired, Greyson Croft seemed just out of reach.
It was crushing her heart.
Before his brother left, they had a good, strong relationship. Now, it appeared that the honeymoon was over.
Yeah, and dead.
There was a spark missing from her husband. When she looked into his eyes, the passion was missing. Everything looked to be automatic as if he was just moving through the motions, trying to get through the day.
Emma wanted to weep.
She didn't know how to reach him.
He was cold.
Chilly.
Like a soldier.
Now, he was just following orders, holding back the one thing that made him a great man.
His heart.
The ‘Ice King’ was back, and he was sharing a bed with her. He’d frozen out their love and intimacy.
With his lack of emotions, caring, and feelings, something was bound to give. Emma only prayed it wasn’t going to be her marriage. While most men might be freaked out to find out their brother was gay, this was apparently an affront to Greyson’s manhood.
Yeah, this was a shit mess.
Emma glanced around their luxury condo. Sky Villa was the tallest building in Vegas, and the most pricy. While Greyson picked it for the safety, the view was his gift to her.
Now…she hated it.
It made her sick.
Walking around the big empty place, there was the overwhelming need to throw up, knowing what had once resided there.
Love.
Family.
Joy.
Now there was only this sense of hopelessness, helplessness, and pain in its place.
God, what she wouldn’t do to have that one night back to rewind it all. Already, Emma was second guessing the what if’s. Maybe if they had gone out to a different restaurant, or she had attacked her husband in the Navigator, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.
She felt guilty that being an observant cop, she didn't see this coming. The dual nights out that both men had mentioned in passing, the affectionate looks at the auction… it now all made perfect sense. There was even the one glaring sign that they both had missed when Dante promised there’d be no sex with women in his brother’s car.
Why didn't she pick up on it?
Was she losing her sleuthing skill?
Emma knew that her husband wasn’t homophobic. In fact, the opposite was true. What he was dealing with had everything to do with his ego and baby brother.
Grabbing her gear by the front door, she glanced over at the piano sitting unused in her living room. Once it was a center point to their relationship, luring her sexy Croft in, and now it sat untouched.
He never asked her to play for him after a long day of work. There were no more sexy interludes on top of it.
It was as if she was invisible and slowly slipping into the shadows of what used to be.
Love was leaving, and she was helpless to stop it.
Closing the door behind her, Emma tried not to metaphorically relate it to her marriage as tears filled her eyes. It was so damn hard, especially since the pain was welling up. Emma really just needed to get the hell out of there.
Being at home was hell.
In more ways than one.
It was getting old that every morning, she’d wake alone. Greyson had an obligation to his profiler, Paris Archer. He was helping the man train for his qualifying run. While the man no longer had use of his legs, that didn't mean the FBI didn't expect him to have strong upper body strength.
So, the two men were out at the local track every morning before the crack of dawn, getting him ready. If Paris failed, he was out of the FBI. Yet, it went deeper than that. Emma suspected that her husband had thrown himself into this because it was the one thing he could still control. Letting Paris down wasn’t an option. In fact, it was now an obsession. Even when she saw Tessa, the woman joked that Paris and Greyson were having some dalliance.
Each time it was said, it struck a nerve, driving her husband deeper into the melancholy. Emma could see it for herself.
Great.
The first time Tessa had said it in front of Greyson, it didn't make the situation any better. Her teasing was inadvertent, but somehow, it dug the hole deeper into his soul. No one knew about Dante, with the exception of Brynn Westmore. One day she was talking about his sexy body, and Emma blurted it out.
Then she proceeded to weep all over her friend.
Yeah, she broke the secret and was praying that Brynn, as her partner, wouldn’t spill the beans. Her marriage was being held in the balance.
So far, Brynn’s friendship was the only thing she didn't have to worry about.
Down at her Navigator, she noticed that her husband’s Challenger was gone. Rarely did he take it out for daily use. He was in love with that vehicle, and just by taking his ‘mistress’, it spoke volumes.
He was more comfortable with it, than her.
Comfort from Emma had now been replaced by something he found more solace in.
Awesome.
The ache grew.
Emma wanted to weep even more. Getting into her vehicle, she forced herself to face the day. Since solving the last case with the FBI, she’d become a liaison of sorts. It was her job to meet with the boss man to find out if the local police had anything that they could help with, and vise versa.
Yeah, it hadn’t been happening.
On the one trip to FBI Las Vegas, she’d stepped into his office and been told they were fine. He’d notify her when there was a case that needed any help. It was as if he somehow blamed her for the mess.
His actions said it all.
Greyson was cutting off those ties too. Gone were the days of working together as a crime fighting team. Even the local papers had noticed it.
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It wasn’t Emma’s imagination.
Again, this was more proof that she was in hell.
While her husband was hiding behind his duty to Paris, he was also burning the bridge to her office. There was hope it was inadvertent. Emma had to hold onto hope.
It was all she had left.
This whole thing sucked.
She’d relied on this new position to see him more, not less. Now, she had to report daily to Captain Christopher Ford that the FBI was flipping them off.
It didn't make him happy either.
Chris Ford had quit his job as commissioner to be back in the house he built. The homicide division was a point of pride with him, and when Patty Stout sullied it, and Emma didn't want the new job, he took it on himself. It was a matter of trust. No one would be able to do the job quite like him.
In actuality, Emma was glad the boss man was back. Honestly, in her frame of mind, she couldn’t handle running twenty detectives’ work lives.
At this point, she couldn’t even manage her own.
As she drove toward work, she passed the FBI office building. Her heart ached that today. She was supposed to pop in to talk to her husband.
There was no point.
Emma was smart enough to know how that would work out.
Once more, her green eyes filled with tears. No longer were they serene and calm, and it only appeared that it was going to get far worse.
Perfect.
Pulling into the precinct parking lot, she glanced up in the mirror to check her face. It wasn’t too splotchy, and that meant she could pull off the happiness everyone expected. Plus, she could see a few reporters hanging out by the door. Lately, she’d gotten to know a few. It was hard to ignore them, especially after the ‘Croft pregnancy watch. Instead, she’d learned to ignore most of them. Yet, there were still a few decent ones who worked the crime beat.
Why make them pay for the sins of the paparazzi?
At least they didn't ask who designed her lingerie, and how many times she and Greyson did it to get knocked up.
Small miracle there.
So, as long as it was work related, she would handle it and answer their questions.
It wasn’t as if she had anyone else to talk to.
Heaven is Weeping (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 5) Page 2
