She was going to be spectacular.
He could see her heading into the sleazy motel from across the street. This was a place he knew very well, and they’d be safe there.
He loved that she was willing to do all the hard work, like getting the room, paying for it, and getting there first. When she first suggested this place, he knew it was a sign from above.
Now, he wouldn’t have to worry about covering his tracks. This place didn't have any kind of security. It was a hotbed for hookups, hookers, and cheap one night stands.
He loved it.
It was perfect.
It screamed home to him.
When he picked her, he’d already known who she was. He’d seen her face before. Her husband was loaded and always on the TV. She stood beside the old coot plenty of times, acting the dutiful wife for the world to see.
But the website didn't lie.
She liked a specific kind of sex.
And he was going to give it to her.
When he saw her carrying a bag into the room, while he glanced through his binoculars, he knew to give her a few minutes. By now, she was texting him and that was fine.
The dummy phone he gave out was cheap, disposable, and easily tossed. He’d never texted them before, and this was a risk, but with that came the biggest reward.
He wanted her.
She was going to be deliciously sinful.
He couldn’t wait.
Giving her enough time, he waited until he couldn’t handle it anymore.
It was time.
Walking down the block, crossing the street, and finally reaching the cheap motel’s parking lot, he headed to the door.
With a knock, it was opened.
“Hello, little girl,” he stated, checking out the short plaid skirt, tight top, and wicked looking heels.
Yeah, she was ready to have sex, and as his body tightened, so was he.
“Hi, Daddy! Did your little girl do good?”
He entered, glancing over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. “Oh, pumpkin, you did really well. Now, how about you get on your knees and show daddy how much you want to please him?”
With that, he closed the door.
The fun was about to begin.
Now, it was time for her to live out her fantasy.
Then, he would live out his.
* * *
Saturday
Late Afternoon
When Emma returned from switching clothes, she was ready for her night at Randall Mason’s home. Getting dressed, Emma was focused on one thing.
Her husband.
This was eating away at him.
When she knew she had to get changed, part of her ached for him, but they had made a promise.
Now, she needed to keep it.
As she entered the conference room, Emma saw his eyes. There was pain and anger clearly present in them.
Emma crossed to him. In front of their team, she still went into his arms. “I love you, Greyson,” she said, uncaring who heard her. This was her husband, and she couldn’t help but want to offer him comfort.
“I love you too, honey,” he stated, dropping a kiss to her lips. “You look lovely.”
While no one else would notice it, Emma heard the hurt.
Greyson was definitely in pain.
She hated doing this to his heart.
“I’m going to tell Randall that I’m not playing for him,” she stated, finally going with her gut. While her husband would tolerate the dress and dinner date, this was just too much for him.
“Can I speak to you outside?” he stated, taking her by the hand. It wasn’t lost on him that his team was watching them.
Croft didn't care.
He had to worry about his wife, and this was something that he didn't want her to have to do. After all, it was only her playing the piano.
He should be able to suck it up.
As someone who loved her, it was his duty, despite the pain it caused him.
Outside the room, he stared down into her green eyes. “Emma, you can follow through with your promise. It’ll be fine.”
She laid the palm of her hand over his scarred cheek. “No, it won’t be. I’ll just tell Randall the truth. While I’ll have dinner with him, my piano playing is off the table.”
“But he paid for this.”
Emma grinned. “He’s a business man. I’ll negotiate something he’ll like better. He has a new show opening soon. He’s asked if we’ll attend. I’ll tell him we’ll be there, and we’ll join him in his private box for dinner and drinks.”
Croft didn't believe it would work.
“He’s just a lonely old man, Greyson. We’ll spend some time with him, and it’ll help him out. Beside, you need to look like you’re in his pocket.”
His wife was right.
Sighing, he gave in. “I’m sorry I’m not strong enough to let you do this, Emma. I just can’t seem to let it go. It’s twisting my gut into knots, and I feel so out of control.”
Her husband was definitely a caveman.
“It’ll be okay,” she reassured. “Tonight, when I get back, how about I meet you in the living room? I’ll get you a cigar, maybe some bourbon, and I can play for my husband.”
Immediately, his heart began pounding faster. It fired him up when the visual filled his mind.
He couldn’t wait to get his hands on Emma, showing her what he loved most about her.
Everything.
“Will you be safe, Emma, my sweet?” he murmured in her ear, despite the looks they were getting from the passing cops. Here she was, wearing some sexified dress as she leaned into his body in a public hall.
“I think I can fight off an old man, Greyson,” she teased, running her hands up his chest.
“But can you fight me off?” he asked, as she pulled away and began heading toward her desk.
“Not since the first day I saw you,” she replied, blowing him a kiss.
Croft watched his woman walk away, and he was already a little less stressed.
Emma and he would keep the piano playing all theirs, Randall wouldn’t be interloping into his life once more, and he would get some sexy redhead in his bed later.
Despite how the day started, it was definitely getting better.
Finally, Croft could breathe.
Now, he could relax and get back to work.
Back inside, no one said a word. Instead of denying anything, he decided to be honest with his inner circle. After all, these were his friends.
Greyson trusted them.
“I’m edgy over tonight. I don’t like the idea of my wife being sold off to some highest bidder, despite the money it brought in to the homeless shelter.”
Curtis knew that was driving his friend bat shit insane. With the kind of man Greyson was, it had to be damaging him. “I don’t blame you. If it were my wife, it wouldn’t be happening either.”
Paris took that moment to chime in. “I’m with you there. I’d be keeping my wife away from him at all costs. Randall Mason is creepy.”
Tessa let the part go where she sounded like a possession. She’d forgive him, since he was so darn cute.
“Let’s get back to work,” Croft demanded. What he needed now was a distraction, and murder was the best thing for him.
The team didn't question it. Instead, they simply did what he asked.
Why push Greyson Croft even more when he was already on the edge?
That would be crazy.
They wouldn’t mess with the man.
Not when it came to his wife.
* * *
When his phone rang, Steele Bentley was just finishing the last of the dead man’s autopsy. When he glanced down at the caller ID, he pulled off his gloves.
“Finish up,” he stated, pointing at the one tech beside him. Then, he answered his phone.
“Hello?”
“Hey, honey, when are you coming home?” Dante asked.
Steele laughed. “Will you be wearing an
apron and carrying a dust mop? You know every man likes that fantasy.”
There was a snort from the other line. Obviously, he’d gotten the visual too.
“No, but if you want me to, I can make that happen.”
There was such lightness in his heart, now that he had Dante back in his life. “We can discuss that later.”
“I was calling to see if you wanted to go out and grab dinner, or make something here.”
“Well, where are you?” Steele asked, glancing up at the clock.
“At your place.” Then, there was a pause. “Is that okay? I used the key you gave me to get in.”
He could hear it in Dante’s voice. “Why wouldn’t it be okay? We’re a couple, right?”
“Yes, but it’s your place.”
“Ours. If we’re going to be a cohesive partnership, then this can’t be an issue. What’s mine is yours.”
Dante relaxed. “So, dinner in?”
He grinned. “Yeah, but I think maybe we can find something else to do other than have dinner.”
“I think I’m available. Just let me get out of this apron and put away my dust mop.”
Steele laughed again. “Well, then, if no bodies come in, I’ll see you soon.”
Before hanging up, Dante wanted to share one last thing. “I love you.”
His heart skipped. “Trust me. I love you too.”
With that, he ended the call, hoping to get out of there. At home, there was peace and happiness, and Doctor Steele Bentley needed a break from all the death.
There were days when he had to be human.
Like everyone else.
* * *
When Emma arrived at the gate, she could see the house at the top of the hill. She recalled the first time she and Greyson had seen the place.
It was ridiculous.
The house was the biggest home she’d ever seen in all her life, and it fit the man who lived inside.
Truth be told, she liked Randall Mason a lot.
Yes, he was slimy, bad news, and generally in the thick of it, but he grew on her. Greyson would say like a fungus, but that was beside the point.
He reminded Emma of some grandfather, and she was happy to have him in her life. It wasn’t all about his protection of them, but the unit they’d begun building.
He’d been to their home, had a holiday with them, and often called her just to talk. It was very family-like.
Underneath it all, Emma believed in second chances, and Randall Mason had delivered. He promised to turn over a new leaf, and he’d done just that. By giving up the life of crime, he’d cleaned up his karma.
It was a good thing.
She was proud of him.
When her key was accepted, and the mighty gate swung open, Emma headed up the drive. When she got out, she found it odd that the man didn't greet her.
It was something he always did. She could barely get out of her vehicle without tripping over him. Now…nothing.
It was odd.
Then again, he might be busy getting everything ready for his piano playing. If Randall wouldn’t let her off the hook, she was going to beg him not to tell Greyson she did it.
It could be their secret.
While she knew he’d go nuts with the lie, Emma was once more in a precarious situation.
Lie and save his heart or tell the truth and break it.
Either way, it was a shitty predicament.
At the front door, she straightened the blue nineteen fifties dress that the man had picked out for her. All that was missing was the pearls, and she’d look like June Cleaver. It nipped in at her waist and flared out to her knees.
It made her want to laugh.
Emma didn't know why she liked dressing this way, she just did. Only, she never believed that she’d be wearing something like this for anyone but Greyson.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked. When no one answered, she wondered what was going on.
Then, it occurred to her.
He probably sent everyone home. He was going to monopolize her time.
Turning the knob, she found it open. Once inside, she called to him.
“Randall! Are you here?”
There was no reply.
Emma went to the intercom button and pressed it. After the beep, she called for him.
Still, there was no answer.
Now, she was getting worried.
Had he dismissed everyone and fallen? What if he was lying somewhere with a broken hip? He wasn’t exactly a young man, and as of late, he didn't really look well.
That spurred her on.
Racing down the hall, there was the staccato of her heels on the tile floor. First, she’d check his bedroom, and then his office.
He was a creature of habit.
Once in his ornately decorated room, she looked around. There was no sign of him other than his suit, which was laid out on his bed waiting for him.
Okay, so he didn't get dressed.
This was beyond weird. Her pulse began pounding in her throat as fear tried to dig its claws into her heart.
From the room, she followed the hallway to his office. At the door, she knocked. “Randall?”
When he still didn't reply, her heart began pounding in her chest.
God!
What was going on?
Finally, she figured it was time.
As she pushed the door open, it hit her.
There was that familiar scent that came along with her job. It wafted around her, reminding her that death loomed wherever it chose. There was no mistaking it, and the bile rose in her throat. While Emma could keep it at bay on the job, when it came to her personal life, death had no business being there.
Rushing in, she slid to a stop as she found him.
He was dead in his chair, eyes open, and gazing up at the painting of his wife. Only, it wasn’t a natural death which did him in.
No, this was done by someone’s evil hand.
Across his desk, there was a spray of blood, which had obviously come from the gaping wound torn through his neck.
“Randall!”
Then, before she could reach him, the lights went out.
The entire building went dark. With the setting sun outside, hidden by the trees, the shadows loomed.
Emma began moving toward the door. She’d been here enough that she knew her way around his home.
“Hello, Mrs. Croft,” came the voice.
Her heart began pounding a wicked staccato in her chest.
“I’m here to deliver a message to your husband. I’d ask you to take it to him, but your time, like Randall Mason’s, is up. Welcome to your death.”
She still didn't speak. As a cop, the instinct to survive overwhelmed the need to panic.
Emma wasn’t a stranger to the need to live. She’d fought before, and it was going to be another battle.
She was strong.
She was tough.
She was…married.
Greyson needed her to pull this off.
“Who hired you?”
He laughed as he approached her. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Emma silently kicked off her heels, grateful they didn't have straps. She was going to need to be able to run.
It was coming.
“Yes, I would,” she said, backing toward the office door. Fortunately for her, she’d left it open. Now, it was only a matter of making it there.
She wouldn’t go down like this.
It couldn’t happen.
Emma wouldn’t break her husband’s heart.
As she approached the door, he spoke again. “You’re going to fight, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Whoever hired you would have told you that, and if they didn't, they set you up. I’m not dying tonight,” she stated, almost to the door. “I’m not as easy to kill as you may think. They tried before and failed. I’m not joining Randall in a body bag. Not tonight.”
“You’re an interesting one, Mrs. Croft. I've watched you now for we
eks. I’m sorry you have to die. You should have chosen a better husband. He’s to blame for all of this. Vegas isn't the place for morals.”
Emma let him taunt her. In her hand, there were her keys and cell. Instinctually, she knew she’d never make it to the car. So, that meant one thing. Once she hit the hall, she needed to call for backup.
“I tell you what, Emma. I’ll give you a head start. I like a fair fight.” What he enjoyed was the game of cat and mouse. When he saw her enter the room, he had to admit that she was beautiful. Maybe, if he could subdue her, he could viciously drive a stake through Croft’s heart. Not only would he kill her, but take her right before.
She was angry. “You call killing an old man a fair fight? He was in his chair. You snuck up on him.”
The door was to her back. In seconds, she’d make her break. Only, she needed to know one thing.
Who this man was.
“Randall Mason wasn’t innocent, and you know it. If you play with sharks, you’re risking your life. Surely you knew that, Emma.”
It was all the time she could waste. Spinning, she raced out into the hall. Behind her, there was laughter.
“Run for your life, Emma Croft. Your time is coming to an end.”
She didn't doubt it in the least.
Out in the hall, she hit the redial button. The last person she called had been her husband. Now, she only hoped that he could save her.
Or at least get there in time to catch the man who was trying to steal her life.
As she ran, tears filled her eyes.
God, she didn't want to die.
Greyson was working on some FBI things, sitting at the table with the team. He was behind on paperwork, and the last thing he needed was to fall further behind.
Being boss had its good and bad points.
This was one of the bad.
Mind numbing paperwork was good for one thing. It took his mind off what was happening at Randall Mason’s place.
When his phone rang, he recognized the ring. Answering, he waited to hear his wife’s voice greeting him.
Instead, he heard nothing.
“Emma?”
Still, there was no reply. Placing it on speaker, he listened carefully.
Heaven is Weeping (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 5) Page 32
