Hell Is Burning

by Morgan Kelley

  Their corruptor had struck again.

  It looked like someone was tying up loose ends in Vegas after all.

  As Max approached, he pointed at the body. “Focus on the car, not him. If the shooter was right here, he didn't touch him. I want you to find me anything, and you have less than five hours to do it.”

  Max stared at him but before he could complain, Mace pulled his phone. “Do you need me to call your boss? I’m sure he’s going to want this escalated. This is the main suspect who tried to put a full round of bullets into Emma and Special Agent Briggs. It’s top priority.”

  Max rolled his shoulders. “Detective, we have another body and about six thousand pieces of trace to process from this case alone. We’re going as fast as we can.”

  Mace didn't wait for him to start. At that moment, he had five bodies and nothing to work with. His shit mess trumped Max’s.

  He headed toward the trunk.

  “Pop it,” he stated to the cop who was planning on busting out the lock. The keys were in the ignition, but they didn't want to screw with any trace.

  When it was opened, Mace pulled out a case. In it, he found an automatic weapon.

  “This is likely what was used to shoot at Curtis Briggs,” he admitted. “Run it for trace too.”

  Mace pulled out his phone and sent out a text to Greyson Croft. He would want to know that the shooter was dead, and likely they’d bought themselves some time.

  That might work in their favor.

  When he was done, he grabbed his keys from his pocket. “I’m heading back in. Start transmitting the data as soon as you get it, Max. We have to find this person.”

  He watched the cop leave and rolled his eyes.

  Yeah, like they haven’t been trying to do just that.

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  As soon as he got the text from Mace regarding the dead shooter, he was both relieved and worried. The detective was likely right.

  They may have a little window of time to relax.

  If the corruptor had shown him anything, it was that he liked to stick to patterns. Whenever a hired gun showed up, and was then killed, there was a lull in the storm.

  It gave him hope that he and Emma would be okay for another day. He was scared shitless about the charity event in a few hours.

  There would be over two hundred people there, and he didn't know who the hell to trust.

  “Who was it?” Emma asked, as they headed toward the address they had for Fred Dyson.

  “Our shooter is dead.”

  Emma looked over as she drove. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “He was found in the front seat, one gunshot to the center of the forehead. Sound familiar?”

  Emma sighed. “Well, that’s not really surprising that he’s dead,” she offered. “That had to piss someone off when he failed to take Curtis out. When Lana was killed, it was right after I killed the last hired gun. Someone likes keeping the hired help in line.”

  He didn't like any of this.

  The killer was getting closer and closer. With each hired gun, there was one more chance one of them would die. The odds weren’t in their favor. At some point, Lady Luck was going to laugh in their face.

  That made him sick.

  Croft began praying that if one of them had to go, it wasn’t Emma. He didn't want to die, but he knew the truth.

  It was selfish, but she was stronger than he was, and Greyson couldn’t live without his Emma.

  He knew it.

  “He lives just up ahead,” Emma said, changing the subject. Greyson had that look on his face, and it usually meant an epic meltdown at her expense. Now that he had the fortress, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d try and lock her away in a tower.

  Well, that wouldn’t happen. Someone had to watch his back.

  “Okay.”

  Pulling up to the curb, they checked out the apartment building.

  “He lives on the top floor,” Greyson stated. “We can hit the front door. He won’t jump out that window.”

  Emma hoped not. Then again, maybe she did. If he was the killer, that would end this mess once and for all, and they could focus on who was after Greyson. The last few months, their attention was so divided, that she couldn’t help but feel like they were missing something right under their nose.

  They really needed a break.

  “Let’s go.”

  She was out of the vehicle and running up the stairs, her husband chasing behind. Fred Dyson would have the vantage point from high, so they needed to move fast. He could take the elevator down while they headed up if he saw them.

  Finally to his floor, they framed the door with their bodies before knocking. In position to defend themselves, Greyson knocked.

  When it opened, they each had their guns pulled--just in case it went bad.

  The man stood there, shocked to have two nine millimeters pointed at him.

  “Fred Dyson?”

  He kept his hands up and nodded.

  “We need to talk to you. Back into your apartment and don’t make any sudden moves. If you do, it won’t end well for you.”

  He did as Croft asked.

  “What’s this about?”

  Emma holstered her weapon to pull up the pictures of the dead women on her phone. “Do you know any of these women?”

  He pointed at Blanca. “Her.”

  Emma kept scrolling. “I saw her in a show,” he stated, pointing at Carrie.

  “What about the rest?”

  “I saw them at the gym.”

  “Is this the facility you no longer belong to?” Greyson asked, showing the man a ‘Body and Soul’ business card.

  He nodded. “What’s this about?”

  “You had an altercation with Blanca, right?”

  He shrugged. “It was more a spat. We had sex a few times, and I invited her over again. She freaked out and slapped me. She liked drama, and it ended up getting us both boosted from the gym. Why? Did she say I did something to her?”

  They stared at him. “Haven’t you seen the news or read a paper?”

  Fred shook his head. “I really haven’t. I don’t own a TV, and I rarely leave home. I really only went out to the gym and the bakery for my coffee and their muffins.”

  So far, he wasn’t lying.

  “Where were you last night?” Emma asked, taking a seat. The place was incredibly clean, and screamed neat freak. She should know…she was married to one.

  “I was here. I like to read,” he stated, pointing at his bookshelf.

  “Do you have a job?”

  He shook his head. “I was laid off two weeks ago. I’m working on my resume while I try to find a new one. Really, I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  “They’re all dead.”

  It took a second to register, but then he looked horrified. “And you think because I had sex with a couple of them that I killed them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I didn't. I got kicked out of my gym, but that was okay. I didn't need to spend the money on it now that finances are tight. It was a blessing in disguise. I didn't have to pay the cancelation fee.”

  They waited.

  “Listen, I talked to Shirley all the time, but I didn't have sex with her. She was into babes, and I respect that. So, I didn't pursue that avenue, if you know what I mean.”

  Greyson checked the man out. He was pretty big, and he must have spent a great deal of time in the gym. Well, that and pounding steroids. He could tell by the man’s bare feet that he was shooting up between his toes. They were red and infected.

  “How about Kelly Granger?”

  He thought about it. “She’s the pretty brunette in the yoga class. Yeah, I hit on her at the juice bar, but she shot me down. She was hooked up with the instructor. I saw them making out in their car.”

  “And Carrie Corwell?”

  He started laughing. “She was a hot piece of ass.” Fred glanced over at Emma. “Just like you, baby.”
<
br />   Greyson crossed his arms. “Down, Fido, or I’ll have you neutered with an ax.”

  “I did have sex with her. She invited me to see her show. Afterward, she gave me the personal tour, if you know what I mean.”

  Oh, they got the picture.

  Carrie Cowell was a walking sex fest and letting just about anyone dip their dick in her.

  “So, as you can see, I’ve been honest with you.”

  Greyson leaned forward. “I think the steroids made you do it. You know what I mean, Fred. Roid rage is a big problem.”

  He shook his head. “I do shoot up, but that’s all. I don’t hurt the ladies, I love them. I’m more of a lover than a fighter. Ask anyone.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. She was shocked he could still get it up, since steroids killed the libido.

  “We want a sample of your DNA,” she stated.

  “You can sample me all you want, baby,” he teased. “Where would you like me to make the deposit?”

  Greyson had about enough. Standing, he grabbed Fred by the collar. While the guy may be using, he wasn’t as big and scary as a pissed off husband.

  “Great. Our team is on the way. You’re going to give them what they want.”

  He went to speak, but Croft slammed him into the wall, head first.

  “Greyson!” Emma gasped.

  “He should watch where he’s going,” he stated.

  Emma shook her head as he called in a team. While he was busy, her phone began ringing.

  “Hello?”

  “Detective Croft?” came the freaked out voice.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Detective McGuire. I need to see you.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “You’re not going to believe this, but Brynn’s car is outside my house. I just woke up, went to grab the paper, and saw it there.”

  She couldn’t believe it.

  “It wasn’t there last night when I got home from work. I think someone’s trying to make me look bad. I wanted to come to you to prove that I’m not hiding anything.”

  “You stay inside, and we’ll be right there,” she stated, hanging up the phone.

  When she glanced over, Greyson was watching her. “What?”

  She told him what the detective had said on the phone. Immediately, his face showed all the emotions rushing through him.

  Greyson wasn’t happy. The killer was likely yanking their chain.

  “You’re staying here.”

  Emma didn't listen. Instead, she followed him out the door, closing it behind her. “The team will be here any minute. We’re both going.”

  “Emma!”

  She shook her head. “Greyson, you’re the main target. We’re just the people you surround yourself with. Don’t think for one moment that this asshole won’t take you out too. The shooter is dead, and now bait is left outside the detective’s home? Seriously? You’re not going anywhere alone. End of discussion. This may be a trap.”

  He knew she was right, but still…

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” he ordered.

  Well, it was too late. They took on a wacked out corruptor months ago. In hindsight, that wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  The Crofts were running in circles.

  That was the plan. When they least expected it, they were going to find themselves at the end of the game.

  It was coming.

  There was no doubt that tonight, someone wasn’t walking away in one piece.

  It was only a matter of picking which of them would die. It didn't really matter since they both needed their pathetic lives ended.

  Blood would be spilled.

  Would it be from the man who wouldn’t back down as Fed? Or would it be his lovely wife, devoted, caring, and very protective of her man?

  Someone was taking a trip to the morgue tonight, and it would be decided in the heat of the moment. Whoever was easier to lure away would be going out of the party in a body bag.

  Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

  One way or another, it was going to be over.

  Tonight, hell would get a new tenant.

  Enough was enough.

  Greyson Croft was going down.

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  When they got there, it was indeed Brynn’s car sitting in front of the detective’s house.

  This looked really bad for him.

  Not only was he having an affair with a married woman, at one point suspected of killing her, but now the evidence had fallen into his lap.

  He looked guilty as sin, and they would have bought it had they not already believed the person after Greyson had killed Brynn.

  It was the little details that mattered most, and that pointed the finger away from the man inside.

  Still, they could use this to get any information out of him. He didn't need to know what was going on in the case.

  As they got out, he came rushing toward them.

  Both pulled their guns.

  He slid to a stop. “I didn't do this! You have to believe me! I swear to God! Someone is trying to set me up!”

  Emma moved closer to the car while her husband kept the man under a watchful eye. She could see Brynn’s badge, gun, and purse on the front seat.

  “This has to be her husband screwing with me!” Detective McGuire accused. “He has it in for me!”

  Greyson holstered his gun while Emma called it in. “There’s only two problems with that Greg,” he began.

  “What?”

  “Curtis stayed at my place last night, and he was there when we were called out this morning for a new body. You said this wasn’t here when you came home. He would have had to sneak out of a house monitored by our security, come here, place the car, and walked all the way across town in order to be seen at three in the morning.”

  The man stared at him.

  “We live at least seven miles from here.”

  It seemed to shut the man up.

  “What’s the other thing?”

  “He’s moved on. Right now, he’s angry with his wife, not you, and just in case, he’s at the FBI building in a room full of people. He has an alibi, but you don’t.”

  Greg stared at him.

  “You think I did this?”

  Croft shrugged. “You tell me.”

  He turned and headed back to his house. “Screw you both! I knew you wouldn’t be fair. Curtis Briggs is your pet, and you’re as crooked as they come!”

  When he slammed the door, Emma started to laugh. “Did you have fun? You know he didn't have anything to do with this.”

  Greyson was well aware. “He deserves it for sleeping with a married woman. Vows are sacred, and he and Brynn don’t deserve my kindness.”

  Emma understood. Curtis mattered to her husband. Brynn was just lucky she was dead, or Greyson would have taken her down a peg or three.

  “We should head in.”

  She wasn’t sure why he was getting edgy. “Are you okay, Grey?”

  He shook his head. “I feel eyes on us, and I’m not sure if it’s Dimitri or not. I know he’s lurking, but still...”

  That was good enough for Emma. She didn't want to make him more edgy than he already was.

  A stirred up Greyson was a dangerous Greyson.

  They all knew that.

  * * * Croft & Croft * * *

  FBI Las Vegas

  Conference Room

  Saturday Early Afternoon

  When they arrived at the office, the team was busily working on their individual assignments. Mace was going over all the trace reports, reading each line as he searched for anything that would help them out.

  Paris and Tessa were running background checks on Fred Dyson, James Bleu, and Liam Eckerly. As of yet, they didn't have anything worth mentioning.

  Curtis was there too, and he was staring off into space.

  “Hey, son, are you okay?” Greyson asked.

  The man glanced over as if notic
ing them for the first time.

  “Yeah, I was just thinking about the case, that’s all. I was also hoping to get the hell off desk duty, and soon.”

  Greyson took a seat beside him. “Shortly, we’re heading home to get ready for tonight. Emma just wants to head down to the morgue to see what we have before we leave. Do you want to go with us?”

  He looked surprised that he’d be allowed to join them. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Great. Let’s break this down and get moving. I have to shave and get into my tux. I can’t have my wife outclassing me tonight.”

  Curtis laughed. He already knew what was going to happen. Greyson would get cleaned up, Emma would walk in wearing some gorgeous number, and Croft would get all tongue tied.

  It was the same old every time, and it was sweet to watch happen. Curtis was a bit envious. He really hoped one day, when he was healed, he’d find that kind of love. It hurt that he’d been fooled into believing that he’d once achieved it.

  “What do we have?” Emma began, sipping some coffee.

  “We’re running the three men you sent over, and so far, not one has a police record. They’re all clean. Now we’re going to cross check them against the victims, Brynn included, just to be sure. IF anything pops in their financials, we’ll be on it, and fast.”

  She was good with that.

  “What about the car?”

  Mace fielded this one. He told them about the dead man with no ID on him. “Steele has him in the chiller, but he said something about having obligations tonight, so the autopsy will have to wait until tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, he’s attending this charity thing too.”

  Curtis was glad he wasn’t going. Tonight, he wanted a beer, the couch, and to think about things. He wasn’t in the mood for a tux and snotty rich people.

  Then he glanced over at his family. Not them. He was beginning to see that family was all that mattered in life.

  “We had a little twist in this case,” Emma stated. “While we were out doing the interview, we got a call.”

  She told them everything, and the whole time, she never looked away from Curtis. She wanted to see his reaction, and from the look of it, he was getting over the anger.