Lost Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 2)

by Morgan Kelley

  He didn’t want to know.

  The less that Croft knew about Dimitri’s association with the man, the better. He simply wanted to keep his head on his shoulders if Tony started swinging.

  “He has anger issues.”

  Greyson could play that game. In fact, they all thought he was the bad guy, so screw it. He could be the king of anger issues in Vegas.

  He was tired of pretending.

  He would be the bad mob boss. It gave him street cred to make some two-bit criminal shake in his boots.

  It was time to make that a reality for Tony Mays.

  As they knocked, the door flew open and they were faced with two guns pointed right at them.

  “Bring them in, boys,” said Tony. “We’ll talk in here. I don’t know what these two paisanos think they’re doing here, but this should be interesting.”

  Greyson and Dimitri headed inside the lavishly decorated home.

  “Nice place you have here,” Greyson said. “It looks like you’re trying to move up in the world, Tony.”

  The man was staring at them as if trying to guess their next move. If Greyson Croft was visiting, something bad was coming.

  Good.

  He wanted the whole town to think that.

  “It’s actually a little small,” Dimitri said. “Business must not be good. What’s wrong, Tony? Has your drug running come undone?”

  The man nodded and one of the thugs punched Dimitri in the face. Then he placed the gun to his forehead.

  “I really hate Russian bastards,” Tony stated. “It was once upon a time that America wasn’t a filthy cesspool of immigrants.”

  They found that funny.

  He was Italian.

  If he thought Christopher Columbus dropped him off…

  Dimitri rubbed his face, and he glanced over at his partner in crime. Oh, it was on.

  “I wish you wouldn’t have done that,” Greyson said, shaking his head. “We only came here to ask you a few questions. Now you’ve pissed my security guy off.”

  The man laughed.

  Apparently, he found something amusing. This was proof that Tony wasn’t right in the head.

  “Right. The King of Vegas makes house calls—my ass. You’re here to stir the pot, and I’m going to defend my home. I’ll kick your ass and then call the cops. I don’t know if you’re aware, Greyson, but the cops have put a hit out on you.”

  Oh, he was well aware.

  Everyone in Vegas was talking about it. He had two-bit thugs planning so many take downs, that he had to let Dimitri sweat it. If he did…he’d lose his mind.

  “Dimitri?” Greyson said.

  “It’s time.”

  They both kicked out, catching the two bulky thugs off guard. One gun went sliding across the room, the other dropped right to the floor beside the two men.

  Dimitri had his gun out so fast and pointed at Tony’s head, he actually stared in shock.

  “You’ve forgotten how quick I am,” he said, spitting on the one thug who’d hit him. “You’re an idiot, Tony. You always were one. That’s why I couldn’t work with you. It got tiring watching you do stupid shit out of anger. A smart man is a controlled man.”

  The room was silent.

  The two bodyguards didn’t move.

  “What do you want?” the man asked, backing up. He was staring at Dimitri’s gun, and it had a silencer on the end. Someone had come prepared to the party.

  Well, shit.

  He wasn’t screwing around.

  “If you go for that gun on your desk, I’ll put a hole in your forehead. Push me and see if I’m serious.”

  The man stopped moving. “Okay.”

  Dimitri kept it pointed at him, and his finger on the trigger. “Go ahead, Greyson.”

  He was up.

  “We really only need some information,” Croft said, taking a seat on the plush couch. It was clear Tony had expensive tastes. He was going to have to lean on the man to shut him down. If he was back to drug running, that wasn’t going to happen in his town. While he was considered the bad guy, he wasn’t letting his town tank on drugs.

  Yeah, no.

  “What kind?” Tony asked.

  Dimitri motioned toward a chair. “Park your slippery Guido ass in that chair.”

  The man did, but he didn’t look happy about it at all. They both knew he was going to try something.

  Maybe not now, but at some point, he’d do something stupid. There was clearly no love lost between them.

  “Make it fast. I have shit to do,” Tony stated.

  Dimitri took the safety off.

  There was an audible click.

  Yeah, Dimitri didn’t like the man. Croft honestly couldn’t blame him. He wasn’t high up on his list either.

  “We need to ask you about Dalton Harding and his employment with you.”

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  That one sentence set off alarms.

  “Who said he was dead?” Greyson asked suspiciously. Whenever someone came right out and went there, he always thought it was odd.

  “Let’s just say that you wouldn’t be here if he was looking for a raise. Plus, word on the street is you’re helping the missus out.”

  Word traveled fast.

  Why was he shocked?

  He shouldn’t be. Everything they did was being scrutinized from the ground up. People were curious and for a few bucks, they’d spread the word like wildfire.

  “Why do you think he is dead?” Dimitri asked, keeping his gun trained on the man.

  “He hasn’t shown up for work, I’ve called his home, and I’ve even sent my men over there to get my paperwork back. The man had personal things of mine.”

  “Could he have opted to go under and start a new life?” Greyson asked. “Maybe he was sick of a mortgage, four kids, and a twenty-six-year marriage.”

  He laughed. “I doubt it. Dalton was all about his job. Numbers were his life.”

  “What about his wife?”

  He closed his mouth.

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “All men go to the titty bars around here. This is Vegas. I even saw you going into a few on the news. Sex sells in ‘Sin City’.”

  Greyson didn’t argue. Instead, he stared at Dimitri. “See what happens when I go into places like that?”

  He laughed. “We were working a case.”

  Croft sighed.

  Tony wasn’t mincing words. “It doesn’t matter what women think. Men like tits, and women have them. If you want to see them without your wife cutting off your dick, you head to the clubs. It’s a safe place to get your man on.”

  Greyson didn’t doubt that someone did more than get his ‘man on’. If he were a woman, Tony would have to pay him to touch him. The man was a snake and in his track suit, he looked like some throw back to a cheap Vegas novel.

  “What clubs in particular?” he asked.

  At first, Tony looked like he was going to zip it. That’s why Dimitri took control of the situation. He moved fast, turning to point his gun at a picture of Tony over the fireplace.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The only sound was the pop when the bullet hit the canvas. It put a hole right in the middle of the painting’s forehead.

  “HEY! I paid good money for that!” Tony complained.

  The gun was trained back on him.

  “Okay! Okay! Someone’s bitchy today,” he muttered.

  “Spill it, Tony,” Greyson stated. He hadn’t even flinched when Dimitri took his shot.

  He trusted the man with his life. This was what Dimitri did. He protected, intimidated, and worked a room.

  “It was ‘Boots and Saddles’ over on Hyde Park, and ‘Black Spades’ over on Willmott. Those are the two places he went with me. I only use those two bars—never my own.”

  Greyson saw the look on Dimitri’s face. He was NOT happy.

  “You can talk to the bouncers at either club. Dalton and I were there the day he went missing. We weren’t hav
ing issues. We both got lap dances, had a few drinks, and we headed out. I came back here, and he went home—or so I thought.”

  Greyson watched the man.

  He wasn’t lying.

  “Can anyone alibi you?”

  Tony laughed. “Dude, you’re not a cop. I don’t need an alibi. You’re nothing more than a two-bit civilian.”

  Dimitri pulled the trigger again. The bullet hit between Tony’s legs. The cushion exploded with a pop and material went flying.

  “Jesus! Are you insane? You could have shot me in the cajones!”

  Greyson laughed. “Yeah, well, these things happen. I do believe I was asking if anyone could verify that you were here.”

  “You’re a dick. What they say about you is true. You never were a clean cop. You’re dirty.”

  Greyson didn’t care what anyone said about him, and he certainly didn’t care what this man thought about him. He was a lowlife drug runner.

  He was bringing crime to his city.

  They were just beginning their dance. Greyson would handle him, and his businesses, later.

  “Shoot higher this time. Fifty bucks says you can’t get him between the balls.”

  Dimitri’s finger went to the trigger and he closed one eye in preparation. It was hard not to laugh at the look on the man’s face. There was no way he’d shoot him.

  Really, that wasn’t his style. He’d slit his throat and toss him to the vultures.

  “Fine! My woman was here! She’s upstairs in bed, and she can vouch for me!”

  “Pull out your cell, call her, and pray she answers, or she’s going to be looking for a new dick to ride,” Dimitri stated. “Well, if she isn’t already.”

  He growled, but he did what they said.

  “Baby, can you come down here?” he asked. “I need your help with some company.”

  He hung up. “She’s coming. Don’t you do anything to hurt her. She’s a gem.”

  Greyson laughed. “Men don’t step out and go look at strippers if their girl is a gem.”

  “You do.”

  He pointed at Dimitri. “I told you that was going to bite me in the ass.” Then he focused on Tony. “I was working. I don’t check out strippers.”

  “Yeah, you got that redhead blowing you. I’d stop too if she was my tight piece of ass.”

  “Shoot him.”

  Dimitri laughed.

  “On second thought, give me the gun. I’ll kill him for even thinking about my wife.”

  Tony looked worried.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d be offended!”

  Where to even start?

  Then again, with Tony, it was a losing battle. The man was an idiot.

  “What’s your girl’s name?” Greyson asked. He wanted to get this over with, and get the hell out of there. The two bodyguards were looking twitchy—like they might do something stupid.

  They didn’t need a shootout.

  “Her name is Gina Sorenson. She’s been my girl for about a year. She was here with me that night. Don’t tell her I was out getting my dick rubbed. I like having pussy on hand, and she’s my kind of girl.”

  Greyson didn’t give a shit who he was sticking his dick in, as long as she would tell them what he needed. He knew that even being in Tony Mays’s house, the media was going to be building all kinds of stories.

  He couldn't wait to see them on the news.

  It was likely going to be the worst-case scenario. Then again, at least it wasn’t a strip club. There was nothing like his wife asking him about that.

  It was awkward, and he hated every second of it. Besides, he was running out of things to buy her in apology.

  What was next?

  A small country?

  Dimitri tapped him on the arm. They could hear Gina heading their way. There was a clip clop of heels down the stairs. When Tony went to get up, Dimitri pointed the gun at him.

  He stayed down.

  “Baby?” she said sleepily. “What’s going on? Do you need a blow job?”

  Greyson lifted his brow. Yeah, now he knew exactly why Gina was his ‘kind’ of girl.

  “No, honey, not now. We have company.”

  She walked into the room and was wearing the most ridiculous of outfits. It was see-through.

  Emma was going to shit a ton of bricks all over him. This was almost as bad as the strip clubs—almost.

  “We’ll be shopping,” stated Greyson. He knew if the media or anyone else got a shot of this through the window…

  Yeah.

  Dead.

  Husband.

  Walking.

  Dimitri laughed.

  “Wow, a room full of sexy men,” Gina stated. “Where to start first?” she asked, as she fully woke up.

  Greyson pointed at Dimitri.

  “Hey!”

  Tony cleared his throat. “They have to ask you something, Gina. Just answer, and the nice mob men will be on their merry way.”

  Before Greyson could speak, she kept going.

  “Aren’t you Greyson Croft?” she asked.

  “I am.”

  “Wow, Tony. You’re hitting the big time if he’s visiting you. Are we moving to a bigger place?”

  Dimitri held up his gun. “He’s moving to the morgue if you don’t shut up, let the man ask the question, and get this done.”

  Her eyes went big.

  Tony pulled her down into his lap.

  Greyson knew it wasn’t because he loved her. The rat bastard was protecting his balls.

  Literally.

  Greyson rolled his eyes and rattled off the days they were curious about two weeks ago. “Where was he that night?”

  She thought about it. “It was a Wednesday so he was at the one club, and then he came home. I shopped all day, and he was interested in some of the things I bought. He drank a bunch of bourbon, we had sex, and he passed out like a rock. My Tony bear didn’t move until I woke him for breakfast at nine.”

  “So he was here?”

  “Yeah, he was here for an early dinner. We had chicken. Tony likes his momma’s chicken.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Tony puts just about any old thing in his mouth,” Greyson stated.

  The man glared at him but was wise enough not to make a comment. “Satisfied? I told you I didn’t kill Dalton.”

  Gina’s eyes went big.

  “Mr. Harding? Aww, that sucks. He was a nice man. He had kids too.”

  Yeah, it certainly did suck, and they weren’t quite sure Tony was out of the woods yet. He wouldn’t get his hands dirty, but his men would.

  Dimitri tapped his watch, signaling that they needed to get moving. Hanging around this long was a bad thing. The men on the floor were getting antsy.

  “Yeah, those two men you said we should talk to. Who are they?” Greyson asked.

  “You want to talk to Ollie Ackerman at the first club, and then Usher Pitts at the second.”

  Greyson made a mental note. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Tony practically hid behind the woman as if he was expecting to be capped.

  Really?

  Chivalry was dead. Here was the proof. This man was a total chicken shit.

  He was hiding behind a woman.

  That told them everything they needed to know about the man. He wasn’t worth their time.

  “Have a good day, Tony,” stated Dimitri, as he stepped between the two downed bodyguards. He leaned down and punched the one who hit him in the face, breaking his nose.

  “That’s a little something to remember me by,” he stated, smiling at the man. “I do like to make an impression.”

  Greyson and he headed out the door.

  It didn’t take Tony long before he was up, Gina was on the floor, and he was raging around like a lunatic.

  Yeah, he wasn’t happy.

  “Find out how he got past the damn dogs!” bellowed Tony. “I want to know what the hell is going on! What the hell do I pay you clowns for?”

  The men on the floor
jumped into action.

  Tony was pissed, and that was a bad thing.

  This was far from over.

  For everyone.

  Outside, Greyson hopped behind the wheel of his ride. He was laughing the entire time. “You really don’t like that man, do you?”

  “No. He once tried to buy my sister.”

  That stopped the laughter.

  “What? Buy as in buy like you do a piece of clothing?” Greyson asked.

  “Yes. He wanted Natasha on his arm at a function, and then in his bed. He offered me half a million dollars if I’d let him ‘have’ her.”

  He could hear it in Dimitri’s voice. He didn’t even have to look over at the man.

  He was pissed.

  “And he’s not dead?”

  “Not yet. I see it happening in his near future if he doesn’t stay far away from my family—I mean your family.”

  “Ours. The family is ours, Dimitri. Your sister is marrying my son. We are most definitely family.”

  That helped calm Dimitri.

  Greyson started up their ride and headed down the road, avoiding the media the best he could. They weren’t worth his time and they didn’t worry him.

  Now the flower vans and the FBI?

  Yeah, they were a concern.

  “Greyson?”

  “Yeah?” he asked, glancing over.

  “Are we really family? I know you just said it, but…”

  Croft was a little worried about that question. Dimitri wasn’t one to mince words.

  “Of course we are. Why do you ask?”

  “I have to tell you something, and I really hope we can keep it between us.”

  “What?”

  “The club, ‘Black Spades’, is mine.”

  “The strip club? You own the strip club that Tony Mays likes to use to get his willy wacked?”

  “Gee, that doesn’t make me feel dirty at all.”

  Greyson was now starting to worry. There were lines between Dimitri’s eyes, and he’d NEVER seen them there before. That was reason to freak out.

  “Seriously. It’s yours?”

  “Yeah, it’s a cover.”

  Oh, he really didn’t like this at all. The only time things had a ‘cover’ was when they were REALLY illegal. While he was the mob in Vegas, they weren’t really that bad. Greyson made sure his businesses were on the legal side.