Emma hesitated.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “If you don’t want to use props, I’m okay with sex.”
She touched his cheek. “Don’t be silly. I’m just worried.”
“About?”
His silver gray eyes were going stormy. She knew he was over thinking it. Running her fingers over the scar on his cheek, Emma felt her heart skip. “If something comes up, I’ll have to take a raincheck.”
He was well aware.
Instead, he opted to tease her. “Oh, something’s come up, all right, and you’re obligated to handle it.”
Emma was amused. She let her gaze slide down his body and knew exactly what he was talking about. “Dead bodies come first, and erect husbands come second.”
He snorted. “He better come. That’s the point.”
Emma pushed him off her body, laughing the entire time. She loved her crazy husband.
It was sad, but they both knew the truth. When you worked in law enforcement that was just how it had to be. Jumping your spouse wasn’t a priority when you had a victim’s file on your desk.
“Well, then you’re in twice as much trouble tonight.”
She didn't argue. “Deal.”
“How’s the case?” he asked, pulling on his dress shirt. Greyson skipped showering because he enjoyed the scent of his woman all over his body. Apparently, she felt the same because she had the same exact idea.
“It sucks. We have absolutely nothing. This killer is moving fast, and he’s not leaving much behind. Not that we can tell, since our lab and ME are so backed up. When you got Steele, you lucked out. The city shit canning him was the worst thing they ever did. We are so screwed. That man was the king of the dead.”
Greyson was glad that wasn’t one of his titles.
Yuck!
“Oh, I know.”
“Our ME is okay, but she’s not exactly as efficient as he was. There’s a three day backlog on bodies. She won’t work past a ten hour shift, and she’s surly to boot.”
“You can always borrow my team, Emma. I don’t mind sharing.”
She pulled on her dress pants and then her boots. “I appreciate that, and if I find another body, I may take you up on that offer. One more, and we have a serial killer.”
Croft didn't like her out there hunting crazies. He wished she’d retire, but he had no one to blame but himself. Greyson talked her into being a detective.
He was an idiot.
“Honestly, I don’t think she’s done the autopsy from the last victim yet. If she has, she hasn’t sent me the report.”
“Uh oh. Are you going to go kick her ass?” he teased.
Emma snorted. “She’s almost sixty. That would be like hitting your mother. There must have been a very shallow hiring pool for this job.”
Croft had moments when he wanted to hit his mother. As of late, it was every day. Since they got rich, the woman wasn’t the same as she used to be. His mother was getting…crazy. “What do you have?”
Emma watched him knot his tie. His long fingers did it automatically, and she felt herself getting hypnotized by the simple motion.
“Honey, are you there?” he asked, laughing.
“Sorry, I was picturing you in just that tie. In fact, I’ll wear the tie for lunch.” There was nothing sexier than her husband. He turned her mind to mush. She wanted to run her fingers through that splattering of gray hair at his temples.
Shit!
He got her wet by just dressing.
Greyson started laughing. “I love you, Kitten. Save those fantasies for later. Then I’m all yours.”
“Anyway,” she said, shaking the sex fog from her head. “We have two victims found on public game lands. They were strung up in the trees. I don’t have COD, and I don’t have tox, so your guess is as good as mine.”
“Really, Em. Use my lab and save yourself the aggravation. If you have two deaths, you know you have a serial killer. Call in the FBI to help. You know I’ll drop everything.”
She wanted to, but then people would talk, and they already had enough gossip going on around them. People were discussing how Greyson had killed off Randall Mason for his money. It was absurd, but they didn't need to draw more attention to them. The more she ran to him for help, the more it put them in the spotlight. The media loved having ‘The King and Queen of Vegas’ in their stories.
Still, she didn't say no.
“Emma,” he began.
“I tell you what. If we get another victim, I’ll definitely call you in. With three, I can rationalize it. You know I can always use the FBI’s help. Know anyone willing to help me? I’ll need a hands on assistant who doesn’t mind going that extra mile.”
Croft lifted a brow.
Before speaking, he watched her strap into her weapon like it was some piece of everyday jewelry. So much had changed in the last year, and he was damn proud of her tenacity.
“I happen to know someone. He’s older, some say sexy, and very smitten by redheads. Well, a particular one.”
Emma crossed to him as he pulled on his pricy suit jacket. Immediately, she went into his body, clinging to him. “I happen to like older and smitten is sexy.”
He grinned at her. “Good to know that I can still turn my younger wife on.”
Emma ran her palms up his chest, wrapped the tie around her one hand, and then let the other find his hair. As she pulled him down, her mouth sought out his.
The kiss was explosive.
When she set him free, his eyes were turbulent, and he was breathing heavy.
Someone was turned on again, and Emma was glad.
“Very sexy indeed.”
Before he could kiss her again, she backed away. If they didn't get moving, Emma was going to be very late. Her crafty Croft was getting that look on his face. He was about to pounce and that meant they were going to be naked.
And late.
She could tell.
“You’re lucky,” he murmured, watching her derrière as she walked away. “Later, I’ll get even.”
He would bide his time.
In the kitchen, he found his wife pouring cereal for each of them. It was flakes and twigs, and he was going to eat it without saying a single word.
Why?
Greyson knew that if he didn't protest this horrible breakfast, then he’d get something fast for lunch, and he didn't mean his woman.
He saw a burger in his future--one with cheese and bacon. This day was getting better and better.
“If you need a profiler for this case, let me know. Paris is back from his last job, and he’s itching to get out and do another. The man is my secret weapon.”
“That would be great. I love working with him. How are he and Tessa doing?”
Greyson took the coffee she offered and chewed on a mouthful of bran and sticks. It was like eating mulch, only it didn't taste as good. “He’s doing great! He’s excited because they’re planning on getting hitched soon. I know they want us to be there, but they’re trying to schedule around work.”
“They should just do it.”
“I agree.”
Emma glanced over to make sure he was eating his breakfast. Greyson was tricky when it came to healthy. If he thought playing nice meant fries and extra cholesterol for lunch, he’d miscalculated.
He was getting a salad.
“We need to get them a gift.”
“I already have,” he stated, trying to ignore that he didn't even get cow’s milk.
Christ!
Who made milk out of almonds? What kind of sicko created that nightmare? If he ever crossed his path, Greyson was going to shoot him in the ass.
“You did?”
Why wasn’t she shocked? Greyson paid the bills the exact second they arrived in the mail. Of course he would have a gift planned. She was pretty sure the man was three years ahead of everyone else when it came to planning.
“Care to let me in on it?”
“You’re sitting in it.”
She looked around.
“You’re giving them my kitchen?” she asked, a little surprised.
“Actually, we’re giving them the condo. He loves the pool and how open it is, so I figured since we’re moving into the house, we could always give it to them.”
She didn't answer.
Greyson looked up. He realized he probably should have conferred with her before giving away their love nest.
Shit!
He screwed up.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
Emma’s eyes filled with tears.
“I didn't mean to upset you.”
“Oh, Greyson!”
“Emma, honey,” he began, trying to figure out how to rectify the mess he just made. “We don’t have to…”
“You’re the sweetest, best man in the entire world,” she said, grabbing his bowl and dumping it in the kitchen sink.
“Hey! I was eating that, believe it or not. It sucked, but it was my breakfast!”
She pulled open the bread box and grabbed the muffins she’d made the day before. “Here.”
He stared down at the blueberry muffin. “I’m giving your vehicle away next. What do I get?”
She laughed. “Not butter. That will get you a kick in the ass.”
Greyson rubbed his hands together as he prepared to de-wrapper the muffin. “You’re sexy and delicious.”
“The muffin, right?” she asked.
He snorted, and then took a big bite. “Hello, beautiful.”
Emma shook her head. Instead of making a comment, she handed him a napkin.
“So you’re okay with them getting the condo?” he muttered with a mouth full of sugar and carbs.
“I’m more than okay with it. That’s a great idea. We don’t need this place anymore, and they’ve been loyal friends. They deserve it.
Greyson grinned. “Butter?”
“No.”
Since he was so damn happy, she was going to drop the bomb. “We need to talk about something, and you’re not going to be thrilled.”
“Uh oh,” he said, brushing some crumbs off his tie. “About?”
“Your mom and dad.”
“Crap. Did they call? Is my mother acting all crazy again?” he asked.
Emma didn't tell him the half of it. Every time she called, Reggie Croft took a potshot at Emma. At one time, she loved her. Then her son got rich, and the woman thought Emma was a bad match for him. The idiocy began.
Funny how money changed some people, just not the ones with the actual money.
“Yep. Right before you got home last night she called me. Apparently, you didn't answer their call, so they opted to try my number. I told them you were so very busy and important, and I handled it.” Yeah, he looked too happy to dump shit all over him, so Emma kept it to herself.
“I love you.”
“Me or the muffin? I get confused when you’re eating carbs. You’re a sick man, Mr. Croft.”
He laughed. “This time I’m talking to you. Where would I be without you, Emma, my sweet?”
“Living with Reggie and Christopher. You’d be munching on her muffins, not mine.”
He looked horrified. “Ewwww. Really, Emma? Just give it to me straight. When are they coming? It’s like a Band-Aid. Rip it off.”
“Any day now, babe. The three week trip has taken almost eight. Apparently, your dad found some more fun things to see. He’s heading to area fifty one next.” Emma made a mental note to kiss the man when he got there. She didn't doubt that he was stalling.
She loved her father-in-law.
Reggie…not so much.
“Great. I’ll be busting them out of Federal holding. I’m sure she’s going to do something stupid. My mother is losing her mind.”
She grinned. “Yeah, she is. When they get here, we’ll have to move to Terrace Glen. They’re going to need space to roam, and this place will be…confining.”
What Emma wasn’t saying was that she’d toss the woman over the balcony if she tried to find Greyson a ‘better’ wife. One who would give her grandchildren like she deserved.
He agreed with the living situation.
The last thing Greyson wanted was to be trapped in the high-rise with his mother. She was going to start on the baby train as soon as she arrived.
That was a dead end, and he and Emma were holding fast. At least he wasn’t alone. Dante and Steele were going to get the ‘marriage’ nag. It looked like misery all around.
“How long are they staying?” he asked.
“Until Christmas.”
He nearly dropped his coffee mug. “Please tell me that you’re kidding. It’s only September, Emma. It’s only freaking September.”
She didn't laugh. “My parents are dead. This one is all on you, Grey. You lucked out. You don’t have in-laws.”
Greyson heard the tone, and he made a mental note to be more proactive with his mother. He wasn’t going to have her running roughshod over his wife.
Emma was queen of his castle.
“Well, you have a point.”
“At least we have work,” she offered. “Maybe the city will implode, and we can work non-stop for three months.”
“Your mouth to God’s ears,” he stated. It was a sad day when you prayed for a rash of serial killings and bedlam to avoid your own opinionated mother.
“You could solve this once and for all,” Emma suggested.
He looked at her. “How?”
“You could get fixed and then tell her that you’re shooting blanks. Snip. Snip.”
Greyson started laughing.
In fact, he was laughing so hard that his eyes filled with tears. When he could finally stop, he lifted her chin with a crooked finger. “No. I will never utter those words. I’m a man. I’m not shooting blanks. It’s never happening. You just better get that shot on time or make the appointment for yourself to go under the knife.”
Emma was just about to say something when her phone went off.
“Detective Croft.”
“Hey, Emma! It’s Mace. We have another one.”
Well, so much for their afternoon nookie. It just got squashed by the cold hard reality of life.
“Where?” she asked.
“At the state park just outside of town. I’ll send you the directions when I hang up, and I’ll catch a ride with the team. They said it’s a bad one.”
“Okay, Mace. I’ll see you there.”
Emma hung up.
“Caught one, huh?”
She grabbed him by the tie and pulled his mouth roughly to hers. The kiss exploded around them, and finally, her husband moaned low in his chest.
“Emma,” he said, staring down into her gorgeous eyes when she pulled away. “That was really hot.”
She winked at him. “Good. It’s got to last you until I see you again. There’s not going to be afternoon sex. If you’re lucky, I’ll be home by midnight.”
He sighed. “My poor libido. First you try to get me fixed like a cockapoo, and then you cancel on my kink fest. I’m a broken, shell of a man.”
Emma grabbed her things and headed toward the door, laughing all the way.
“Hey! Kitten!”
She turned.
“Take care of my girl and don’t let anything happen to her, okay?” he said a little bit anxiously. “If you get one scratch on her, I can’t get a new model. She’s one of a kind.”
“I’ll be safe, Director. You take care of my cockapoo. If he shits on the rug... Well…he’s in trouble.”
He stared at her. “Emma!”
She didn't stick around.
Croft watched the door close, and he couldn’t help but get that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
He hated when she left to go out on her own. Yes, it had been a year, but each time he ominously got that feeling that she was in danger.
It scared the shit out of him.
In Vegas, that was a very valid fear.
* * * Croft & Croft * * *
Across Town
State Park
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He met her outside the police tape. When Emma Croft pulled up in her Navigator, she hopped down and slung her badge around her neck.
“Same as the last two?” she asked Mace Bristol.
He nodded. “It’s another mess. I hope you’re free for the rest of the night.”
“My in-laws are heading into town soon. I’m definitely free.”
He gave her a fist bump. “Amen, partner.”
“What do we have?” she asked.
“The CSI’s are starting to take some pictures. We have a few witnesses if you want to start the interview. They’re the ones who found the body. We can’t touch her until the ME does her thing.”
God only knew how long that was going to take.
“Lead the way, partner.”
Emma really liked working with Mace Bristol. He was pretty level headed, and the best part was he knew how to do his job. While Emma missed Brynn on a friendship level, the ten months working with her was an emotional drain.
It sucked having to train someone each and every day, especially when they were trying to pick your brain to be more like you.
Now, she could simply do her job.
Mace was a damn good cop.
She got lucky.
As they approached the three men, she could tell they were hunters. While they weren’t carrying guns, they were decked out in enough camo to clothe an entire Army regiment. You didn't often see camo in Vegas.
Feathers, yes.
“Gentlemen, I hear you found our victim,” Emma said, pulling out her phone to start making notes.
The men stared at her.
“What?” she asked, looking around. She wasn’t sure if there was something creeping up behind her or not. They were ogling her like she had three heads.
“You’re her!” the one man exclaimed.
At first, she didn't register what he was talking about.
“You’re the one! You’re that woman on the TV all the time. The one married to the FBI guy. Why are you working? Aren’t you filthy rich?”
“Yeah, that’s me. You can call me Detective Croft, not she who is married to the Fed. As to wealth, it doesn’t really come in to play. Our victim doesn’t give a shit how much is in my bank account.”
This was a sore point for her. Everyone automatically thought a rich cop was a crooked one.
Hell Is Burning Page 4
