Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2)

by Morgan Kelley

  “I can only imagine.”

  “So, why did you become a cop?” he asked as nosiness kicked in and took over.

  She thought about it as she navigated the busy streets to the apartment complex. No one ever asked her that before. “I’m curious like a cat. I have to scrutinize everything.”

  Briggs grinned. “You know that doesn’t end well for the cat, right?” he teased. When she grinned at him, there were big dimples on her cheeks, and he was finding them charming and endearing.

  “Oh, I’m well aware.” Brynn pulled into the parking lot and turned off the vehicle. “Here we are, Agent.”

  “Curtis,” he corrected.

  Now, she stared at him, measuring if it was a good idea to travel down that road at all. Her pinnacle in life was becoming a captain and earning her bars, and she didn't know if a messy man distraction was a good idea.

  Briggs waited. He worked with Greyson Croft, and that meant one thing- an infinite well of patience.

  “Okay, Curtis. Are you ready?”

  He grinned as he hopped out of the vehicle. “It looks to be a decent place to live,” he stated, taking in his surroundings.

  “It’s one of the better apartment buildings in this part of town,” she clarified. “Wait until you meet the super. He’s sleazy and a total pervert.”

  Briggs glanced over. “Did we run him?”

  She shook her head. “Not yet, but I’m sure it’s next on the list. I wish we could get his prints and go deep into his background. They’d confirm what my gut is telling me.”

  “And that is?”

  “If it looks like a pervert, acts like a pervert, it’s probably a pervert,” she quipped as they walked up to the door.

  “I’ll get you the prints,” he said as he wiped the screen on his tablet. “Let me work my FBI mojo.”

  Brynn knocked. “Go for it,” she replied, plastering a fake smile on her face.

  When the door opened a crack, there was a single eye peeking out at them.

  “What do you want?” he mumbled.

  Brynn could hear the porn music in the background and the random moaning and other various sex noises. Yeah, she was definitely right. In fact, this might be the king of the pervs.

  The agent went into action. “I’m with the FBI, sir. Please step on out here.” He pulled his badge and showed it to the man.

  The single eye went huge as the door slowly opened. He squeezed his body out into the hall, carefully trying to keep them from getting a glance into his place. “What did I do now?”

  She crossed her arms. “Why don’t you tell us?”

  The superintendent shook his head wildly. “I didn't do anything, I swear! I’m doing what the redhead said to do. I’m watching Sara’s apartment and no one came here yet.”

  Briggs saw his opportunity. “Did the detective give you her card to call her?”

  Again, he shook his head.

  He started patting his pockets. “Hold this, please,” he said, handing the man his tablet, where he’d just wiped away his own prints. Pulling out his own card, he offered it up. “Here’s my number. If anyone comes here looking for her, asking for her, or to search her apartment, call us.” Carefully, he took the tablet back and closed the case protectively.

  Score one for the Feds.

  “Okay,” he answered, placing the card in his shirt pocket.

  “We need to get back into her place. Please open the door for us,” she said, heading to the stairs.

  He followed and pulled his keys off his belt loop. “Sure thing! I’ll do anything to help out the FBI.”

  Brynn rolled her eyes and Briggs covered a grin with his hand and a faux cough.

  “Here you go,” he said as he opened the door.

  “We’ll talk to you again soon,” stated the agent, narrowing his eyes at the man to terrorize him. He’d seen his partner do it all the time, and he hoped he could pull it off. Most people were just afraid of Croft, based on his sheer size and bulk.

  “Okay,” he answered as he tried to escape.

  Brynn stopped him. “What did Sara do for a living?”

  He thought about it. “She was a dancer.”

  Briggs needed more than just that. “Are we talking stripper, exotic dancer, or a ballerina?” he inquired.

  “Last she told me, Sara was working as a showgirl at one of the theaters in town. I don’t know much more. We didn't really get together to chitchat, if you know what I mean.”

  Brynn nodded and sent him on his merry way before he grossed her out even more. When he was out of earshot, she continued. “You were pretty slick with that fingerprint trick.”

  He laughed. “I wish that was all me, but I learned it from the boss. He’s the best agent I’ve ever seen in the field. If our pervert has a record, we’ll have his name, any possible aliases, and access to all his secrets shortly.”

  She grinned. “We could have just asked his name.”

  Now, he was entertained. “You can tell you’re not a Fed. That would have been too easy, and why take all the fun out of it?”

  * * *

  It genuinely felt good to be riding beside her husband in their vehicle. When he left for his meetings in Quantico, she’d been worried about both of them. Not their relationship, because that was solid, but being apart from each other.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” she said, squeezing his hand in hers, as Greyson drove.

  “Me too, honey. I missed you so damn much. I wanted to sneak home over the weekend, but my boss is sadistic. He scheduled back to back meetings to torture us all. I spent all weekend discussing the government sequester.”

  “Sounds titillating.”

  Croft grinned at her as he brought her knuckles to his lips to leave a kiss there.

  Emma enjoyed the scent of his cologne wafting around the inside of the vehicle.

  “You’ve had nightmares,” he said, finally.

  “Yeah, I did.” Emma wasn’t going to even lie. That was the worst part of him being away. Once they began sleeping together, the fears couldn’t get to her by way of her dreams. They had a big Croft wall blocking them. The minute he was gone, she was at their mercy.

  “You could have called me,” he stated, not sure how he felt about her handling them alone. “I’m here for you, Em.”

  There was no doubt he was and always would be. Greyson Croft was the rock in her life.

  “I knew you’d be busy, and the last thing you needed was to worry and be off balance because of me.”

  He glanced over at her and the look on his face held some anger. “I’m never too busy or distracted for my wife, Emma. You’re the center of my heart and if you need me, you tell me. I’ll drop any and everything to get to you. I’ll always come running.”

  Leaning over, she placed a kiss over the scar on his cheek. When he’d been abducted in Celestia, it was his parting gift, and a daily reminder to her that she could have lost everything if he had died.

  Croft could feel the heat flush through his body at the simple caress of lips across his skin. Then, it hit him. “Why don’t I smell lavender?” It was quite possibly the most amazing scent in the world, and whenever she wore it, it drove him crazy. It was purely his Emma, and now it was missing.

  She thought about it as they pulled into the parking lot. “I didn't feel like it since you were away. It didn't feel right.” It was the simple truth. When he was gone, her life was on pause.

  He was touched. “I love you, Emma.”

  Running her fingers down his cheek, an inadvertent chill rolled through her body. “I love you, Grey.”

  Neither moved as they stared into each other’s eyes. He was searching her face for the demons that haunted her. Greyson desperately wanted to wrap her against his body and hold her close.

  She was so overwhelmed with emotion and love that it threatened to swamp her and drown her. The man was her absolute everything.

  “We should get this over with, and then we’ll have lunch,” he said, again need
ing to fuss over his precious wife.

  “Yes, Dad,” she teased, hopping out of the SUV.

  Croft snickered.

  “Let’s check the grounds and then find the building manager. If she was taken from here, we should find something to point in that direction.”

  He let his wife lead, because he knew Emma would do a good job. Also, because if she was focused on work, she wasn’t dwelling on the things that haunted her. “Aye-aye, matey.”

  She started laughing. Ever since getting the scar on his face, and her mentioning he’d make a sexy swashbuckler, he’d started throwing out random ‘pirate-y’ things. Emma suspected it was to make her laugh. Not many saw it, but he was a funny man.

  “You're a goof.”

  He winked and achieved his goal. There was no longer worry in her eyes.

  Following the perimeter of the building, they didn't find anything that led them to believe that the woman had been abducted there. Heading inside, Emma scanned the list of apartments until she located the one marked as ‘manager’. After buzzing it, they could only wait.

  “Yes,” came over the intercom. “How can I help you?”

  “FBI, we have a few questions and need to speak with you. Can you please meet us in your hallway?” asked Croft.

  “Really? You're the FBI?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They heard the intercom click off and a few minutes later a little old woman walked around the corner with a look of suspicion on her face.

  “ID please,” she said, waiting to see their badges.

  He handed his to her first and began the introductions. “My name is Director Croft and this is Detective Croft. We’re here investigating a homicide.”

  The woman took Emma’s badge and gave it the same inspection. “Okay, they look real enough. My name is Margret, and I run the building here. I hate to ask this but who was murdered?”

  Emma replied, “One of your tenants, a Valerie Weist.”

  The woman immediately became morose. “That’s too bad. She was a really sweet girl.”

  “Did you know her well?” inquired Croft, as he scanned the woman’s face for any information she wasn’t verbally handing out.

  “Yeah, she’d come down and see me on the weekends. That girl had quite the appetite. I bake a mean chocolate cake, and she could easily put away half of it at once. How she ever stayed rail thin, I’ll never know.”

  They certainly did after watching her being cut open.

  “She was the victim of a homicide, and we need to search her apartment,” Emma said, noticing the older woman was checking out her husband. It was funny to see. Apparently, the woman liked much younger men. Later, she’d bust Greyson’s ass over it.

  “Do you have a warrant?”

  Croft almost started laughing. “Ma’am, you don’t need a warrant to search a victim’s home. You only need one for a suspect’s property.”

  She didn't look like she was buying it. “I don’t know.”

  Emma shrugged. “Okay, I’ll kick her door down and you can have someone fix it afterwards.”

  The woman looked horrified.

  Greyson was struggling not to break into laughter. He was well aware that his wife wouldn’t do that, but then again, who knew?

  “I’ll have to call the cops then.”

  Emma pulled her blazer back and pointed at the gun and the badge. “It’s your lucky day. We’re already here.”

  The woman made a ‘hurumpft’ sound and stormed down the hall. “I like the man more. His manners are better.”

  Croft leaned over to whisper in his wife’s ear. “Wow, I go away for a week, and you turn all bad ass and terrorize a seventy year old woman.”

  She smiled and winked at him. “Please,” Emma replied in hushed tones. “The woman likes you better for a whole other slew of reasons and none of them have anything to do with your fine manners.” Patting him on his ass, she grinned.

  Croft looked horrified at the implication.

  Emma had to turn her head or she’d start laughing at the expression on his face. Apparently, the manager wasn’t his type. Good to know that he liked them younger.

  “I’ll be right out here. Don’t try to take anything, or I’ll call the police. For that you need a warrant.”

  Emma went in first and ignored the older woman. She didn’t blame her for her ignorance. It was all because of television and cop shows portraying the facts inaccurately.

  This apartment was vastly different than the first victim’s. While Sara Jensen had been organized, Valerie Weist was the total opposite.

  “Holy crap,” muttered Emma as her eyes scanned the chaos. “I know I’m messy sometimes, but this is out of damn control.”

  Croft was the neat freak out of the two, and often he found himself following Emma around picking up her discarded clothes. He didn't really mind, because at the end of the trail meant there was a naked woman.

  “No, this is definitely above your messiness.”

  She punched him.

  Croft began snapping pictures as his wife navigated the clothing strewn house. “I think she may have had hoarding tendencies too. I see about three years’ worth of newspapers.”

  Emma finally made it to the kitchen. “I won’t ever complain about how you clean up after me. This kitchen is a biohazard. All we’re missing are the fifteen cats.”

  Somehow, he managed to get through the mess. “Oh hell, this is disgusting,” he said, pointing at the half eaten sandwich that was growing mold. “I’d divorce you if I had to come home to this.”

  She started laughing. “No you wouldn’t. You couldn’t live without me.”

  He agreed. “Okay, but I’d have to get pissed off a lot and cordon off my half of the condo.”

  “I get the bedroom and the kitchen,” she stated, laughing.

  “I retract my prior statement.” Those were his favorite rooms and for obvious reasons.

  Emma pulled on a pair of gloves and handed him a spare pair from her pocket.

  “I don’t think that there are enough surfaces to leave fingerprints, Em,” he stated, still horrified.

  She shook her head. “I’m trying to keep us both from getting some sort of strain of tetanus or staph infection.”

  His wife didn't have to tell him twice. He gloved up pretty damn fast.

  “Grey, she was seeing a therapist.” Emma pulled an appointment card down off the refrigerator.

  “I wonder why?” he asked as he sarcastically motioned his arms around to encompass the room.

  Emma snickered. “I can’t imagine, but I’ll keep this. We may need to have a talk with Doctor Maureen Russell.”

  “Good idea. Let’s get to the bedroom and look there. I’m getting itchy in here and feel like I need a shower all the sudden.” Croft didn't like unorganized clutter. Their home was sparsely decorated, didn't have a lot of disorder, and the counters were minimalistic for a reason. He liked to feel at peace in his space, and this chaos didn't scream peace, it shouted ‘get professional mental help’. No wonder the woman was seeing a specialist.

  She needed it.

  Following Emma into a hallway, he peered into the bathroom and almost had a stroke. There were girly undergarments everywhere and the counters were covered in makeup and hairspray.

  “I wish I knew you were coming home, Grey, our bathroom looks just like this.” Emma knew what set her husband off, and this was it.

  “I feel sick.”

  She snorted and led him further down the hall to the bedroom. “Wow.”

  Croft couldn’t wait to see it. His imagination had already drawn a picture in his head, according to the rest of the house. When he walked into the room, he didn't know what to say. It was immaculate.

  “I don’t get it.”

  Emma started laughing. “Maybe she cleaned it.”

  He lifted a brow. “I somehow doubt that.”

  Going to one of the bedside tables, she pulled out the drawer. Inside were self-help books on eating dis
orders, OCD and hoarding.

  “She had the psychiatrist’s trifecta,” Emma said, holding up the books. “Check the other drawer,” she prompted.

  Greyson still didn't know what to think. Pulling it open, he found a drawer full of sex goodies. “I found handcuffs, lubes, a very large vibrator, and other things.”

  “You can tell a lot about a person by what they keep in their sex drawer.”

  That piqued his interest. “We don’t have a sex drawer, do we?” he asked, thinking about his wife, and what he’d like to keep in it.

  She started laughing. “No, do you want one?”

  If his tongue wasn’t attached, he might have swallowed it. “Uh, yeah. What guy doesn’t?”

  “We’ll have to start one then,” she answered nonchalantly.

  He stared at her, unsure if she was kidding or…

  “I’m serious,” she answered for him, and then forced her focus back to the victim. Emma wandered over to the closet. Opening it, she screeched as something fell out and onto her.

  Croft pulled his gun at his wife’s startled yelp. “What is it?”

  Emma laughed uncontrollably. “It’s a mannequin wearing a costume. She must have done her own show alterations.” Pointing inside, there were tons of dresses for what Emma assumed was work.

  “You scared the hell out of me!” he admonished, slipping his sidearm back into the holster.

  “You? This fell out on me!”

  Croft pulled out his phone and began taking pictures and transmitting them to his partner’s tablet for the file.

  “We need to go back out to Margaret, and then we can head out of here.”

  He couldn’t wait to escape the apartment. The disaster was making him a neurotic mess. It appeared that he had one more thing to be thankful for when it came to his wife. She wasn’t a slob.

  Heading out the door, they were stopped by the woman impatiently pacing outside the apartment door.

  “You didn't take anything, did you?”

  Croft grinned. “Only some pictures and an appointment card for her therapist.”

  The woman didn't see any harm in that. “She didn't have any family, so what am I supposed to do with all her stuff?”