“I appreciate it, Tom,” he said, grinning. “You are a sneaky old bastard.”
“I shall take that as a compliment,” he answered, raising his bourbon glass and clinking it off his friends. “Let’s have a cigar and talk about tomorrow,” he stated, lighting up his own choice.
“I have an hour to burn, so absolutely.”
Together they sat and reminisced, and secretly Croft couldn’t wait until the next evening. Taking his wife out and dressing up was going to be quite the adventure.
Emma kept glancing down at her watch, wondering what the hell was keeping her husband. She’d sent a few texts, but he had yet to reply more than a few brief answers.
Obviously, the worry showed on her face.
“Don’t panic, Emma. He’s probably having a few drinks and schmoozing with your boss. I mean, what could possibly go wrong?” he teased.
“You’re funny. I hope you’re laughing when I don’t let you come tomorrow night,” she tormented back.
A little while ago, Detective Westmore disappeared and had yet to return.
“You fix the problem with Brynn?” she inquired, leaning back in her chair.
“I told her the truth, and we seem okay for now.”
Emma was about to say more, but the knock stopped her. Glancing over, she found her boss standing there.
“Do you have time for an update?” he asked, leaning against the door.
“Yes, Captain, I do. Can we do it in your office?” she asked, wanting to talk to him regardless.
“I’ll meet you there, Detective.”
Briggs watched him walk away. “You want me to come with you?”
She laughed. “Curtis, I think I can handle my own boss. You’re turning into a mini-Croft.”
“I was thinking more of being there when your husband came through the door and tried to kill the man for looking at you,” he snickered.
“Yeah, thanks. I wasn’t worried about that until you just brought it up.” She punched him in the arm. “Get back to work on whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing, and if Greyson shows up, don’t tell him where I am,” she said laughing, just in case he was right.
Emma headed towards her boss’s office and found him waiting for her.
“Coffee?” he asked, pointing to the machine in the corner. “It’s better than the swill out there.”
How she remembered the days of her own office and coffee that didn't burn a hole in your gut. It wasn’t that long ago. “Thank you,” she said, pouring a cup and taking a seat.
“Personal or professional first?” he asked.
“Let’s go with work. I don’t want other issues to get in the way of the rest.” Emma began breaking it all down, effectively giving a report that spoke volumes of her years of experience. It was obvious, by the time she’d finished that it wasn’t her first time updating a supervisor.
Finally, he spoke. “So, you think your husband can pull off getting you in there?”
Emma shrugged. “Greyson Croft is a very persuasive man. I don’t doubt he’ll find a way around any obstacle.”
Ford laughed at the use of the word ‘persuasive’. “He’s a bit more than that, Detective, and we both know it.”
“I apologize for any threats and promises of bodily harm he threw out there,” she stated, needing to work some damage control.
“You didn't make them, so you shouldn’t apologize, but I do need to know if you wish to file a report to IAB, regarding the situation that occurred on the search warrant.”
“No.”
“Why not?” he inquired as he crossed his arms and observed the woman before him. “Laden blatantly allowed a person to attack a fellow officer and his own partner corroborated it. You have every right to file against him.”
Emma still shook her head.
“Are you afraid he’ll try and get retribution? If that’s the case, I can assure you that it won’t happen on my watch.”
In her mind, there was simply no need. “I’m not afraid in the least. If he were to even attempt to hurt me, my husband would make sure he was taken care of, and honestly,” she said before she continued, “if he tried anything, then you would have only one suspect. Right?”
She had a point.
“Your husband is pretty intense.”
It was a matter of perspective. “Some people say that. Generally, there’s only one thing that pushes him over the edge, and that’s me.”
“Yeah, he said he’d kill me and hide the pieces.” The man started laughing.
Emma stood. “I wouldn’t laugh, Captain,” she said, seriously.
“Why?”
She moved to the door. “When Greyson Croft issues a warning like that he means every word.”
~ Chapter Eleven ~
Friday Afternoon
Finding her way back to the room that they were utilizing, she could hear her husband laughing from inside. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest at the warmth it caused to flood her body. Whenever they were apart, reuniting was always amazing.
Pausing in the doorway, she watched as he ran his hands through his hair, causing it to stand up in spikey points. Immediately, Emma crossed to him and lovingly fixed them.
It didn't take long for realization to dawn.
“I smell cigars and booze,” she admonished, pointing at him. “Greyson! You’re in big trouble!”
Croft motioned to his agent. “Go get a coffee and take a ten minute break,” he stated, watching the man scurry away. He stood from his chair to follow him to the door, where he promptly locked it.
Emma stared at him. “You can’t be here working and smelling like bourbon,” she insisted as he took his seat again, still grinning at her. “Greyson, I’m talking to you,” she stated, moving closer.
It’s when he decided to strike.
Quickly, he pulled her towards him, causing her to tumble into his lap. Automatically, she dropped her arm around his shoulder and held onto him.
Every bit of man in him roared to life. He had just spent the afternoon talking business with an old friend and missing his woman. What he was thinking about was having really hot sex with his gorgeous wife.
“What are you doing?” she asked, not exactly turned off by the scent of cigar lingering on her husband’s clothes. She wouldn’t want to smell it daily, but combined with the feral look in his eyes, she was getting all heated up.
“I’m planning on making out with my wife. I want her to show me how much she missed me while I was out getting her what she wanted.”
She stared at him, unsure if he was serious or not. “We’re working, you can’t kiss me here,” she stated unequivocally.
It was as if she dared him not to touch something that was rightfully his. It was the worst possible thing to throw out there. There was something brooding and dark inside him at the moment.
After sitting with his friend and listening to him gush about how lucky he was to have a woman who was young, sexy, and hot in his bed, it caused something in him to roar to life. Just the knowledge that men were watching her fired him up and made him completely crazy.
Croft was very aware his wife was spectacular, and no man was getting anywhere near his found treasure.
The possessiveness clawed its way up, taking root close to the surface and giving notice that it was there to stay. Between the doctor questioning his masculinity and the commissioner admiring his woman, the lethal combination created a dangerous brew in his gut.
He pulled her closer, and when she fought, something else took over. That spark of proprietary ownership lit, going from dormant to smoldering in seconds. Greyson was unwilling to take no for an answer. Now, the choice was no longer hers. He held her mouth to his and took his time to steal whatever he desired from her lips as he enjoyed his Emma.
The comments made by the commissioner were nothing but off handed remarks, meant to share that masculine camaraderie between two friends. What they did was set free the possessiveness that lived in him. Was he proud
that he thought about her like that? No, but it was part of who he was deep down inside.
Croft didn't want to hide it. After some bourbon and boy’s club discussions, he wanted to be himself.
And this was the man he was inside and out.
Emma stopped fighting as her mind and body went totally lax. Her husband was driving her completely insane. Part of her wanted to be mad that he’d thought he could kiss her and force her into anything by simple might. Then there was the part of her that was being driven wild by the taste of old liquor lingering in his mouth and the scent of cigar on his suit. It made her want to stay right there the rest of the day. The heady allure of masculine prowess drew her in, keeping her enthralled. There was something sexy about a strong man, at least to her anyway.
Slowly, he released her from the mating of mouths, allowing them both a moment to catch their breaths. “Emma,” he whispered as she clung to his body, her lips so very close to his that he could almost taste her all over again. “I needed to feel you in my arms,” he admitted as her hands slid up his chest to his shoulders and remained there and connecting them.
“You’re an enigma, Grey,” she replied, not knowing what to do with him. She never knew when his moods would shift, taking her with him on a new adventure.
“You have your way into the premier gala,” he murmured into her ear. “But there are two conditions or it’s no deal.”
Emma was willing to listen to the rules. “Go ahead,” she said, trying to not think about how his hands were tracing patterns on her back and leg.
“The commissioner called Randall Mason personally. It seems that the man makes a large contribution to the local police, and he doesn’t want that to stop. We’re allowed in, but we’re there to be part of the party and not cops. Mason doesn’t want a spectacle and your boss, the commissioner, feels the same.”
If it came down from the head cop in the city, what choice did she have? “Okay, I’m good with that, but were there any restrictions on police outside the venue?”
“No,” he answered, being driven mad by the scent of his woman. Apparently, he and the bourbon were a dangerous mix.
“What’s the last condition?”
He stared into her eyes and what was revealed there caused a quick intake of breath.
“I want to see my wife dressed for the occasion. It’s black tie, and I want you in something sinfully sexy and on my arm.”
Emma knew how chauvinistic that sounded, but yet it still made her stomach twist at the need in his voice. The man simply wanted her and it drove her wild.
“Will you do it for me?” he asked, running his lips up her jaw and to her ear. “Will you be my date for the world to see?”
She swallowed, simply nodding as he continued to make her heart pound in a wild staccato.
“I’ll handle the schematics tomorrow for you. You need to find something to take my breath away, like you did on our first date. When you came out, I couldn’t think. Tomorrow night, I want to feel the same way. I want to get lost in my wife.”
Emma remembered the dress, and her body heated at the way she felt seeing him in his suit. “Are you wearing a tuxedo, Grey?” she asked, getting giddy just thinking about it.
“I have every intention to do just that. After I took care of your boss, I went and was fitted for one, and it’ll be done by tomorrow morning. I do believe I’ll look good enough to accompany the most beautiful redhead in the world.”
She stared into his eyes. “You’re a surprise and sometimes I don’t know if I can handle you.”
His laughter filled the room. “I say the same thing about you when I’m asked about my fiery vixen.” Again, he drew her lips to his, kissing her once more. Thank God, she wasn’t aware of half the boy’s club chitchat. Emma would go nuts. The men in his circle were old school and women weren’t allowed.
At the knock at the door, Croft was less than pleased.
Only then did Emma find herself released from his lap. She was pretty sure her face was completely flushed as her entire body was overheating. Unlocking the door, she allowed Briggs back in with his cup of coffee.
“Need more time?” he asked, willing to go back out and wait if he they weren’t done. Seeing the furious blush across Emma’s face, he couldn’t help but grin. He was well aware who won the conversation, and it wasn’t Emma.
“We’re good for now,” Croft replied, winking at his wife. “We were just talking about the event tomorrow.”
Emma was astounded at how his demeanor had completely changed once again. Gone was the bossy, control-obsessed man, and back was the easygoing FBI boss. Just minutes ago, he was dark and dangerous, and now he was easy and light. Yeah, she was in way over her head with him.
“What’s on the agenda?” Briggs questioned, taking his seat.
The man broke it down for him and gave him the details. “So, it’s a date and not a work function. Get a tuxedo and get a woman to attend with you.”
“Huh?”
Emma laughed as she stood beside her husband. It was hard not to enjoy his arm around her waist. “He’s alluding to the fact that now would be a really good time to find a certain detective and beg her to join you for a nice evening out.”
“Oh,” the man uttered as he blushed. “I really have to ask? Can’t you tell her she’d required to go with me?” He knew how sappy that sounded, but he wasn’t sure the woman would tell him yes after what he told her earlier. Even at his age, rejection sucked.
Croft laughed. “No, I can’t and won’t. Yes, we’re going to be working and watching everyone around us to try to spot a killer, but it’s off the clock. You want a date, you procure you’re own. I caught mine,” he said, patting her on the ass possessively.
Briggs saw it and waited for Emma to object.
She only snickered. “I let you get away with too much,” Emma stated as she shook her head. Hopefully, neither man would notice the blush that his touch drew to her skin.
“I know, and I am eternally grateful,” he replied with his eyes flashing.
Damn him and that wicked pirate grin.
“It’s cocktails before the performance, the show, and then mingling after. Hopefully then, we’ll be able to meet Randall Mason and socialize. As far as he was told, the new FBI director was looking for something fun to do with his wife. He has no idea that we’re working an assignment.”
Emma reassured him. “Go ahead, Curtis,” she urged, believing the woman wouldn’t turn him down.
“Okay, I’ll go talk to her, but later can I cut out early? I need to go find a tux for this shindig.”
She snickered at the terminology.
“As soon as you lock down those interviews with the lawyers for Harrison Tyler and Mason Productions, yeah, you can.”
“Great! Thanks, boss!” he exclaimed, heading out of the room to find the woman he prayed would be his date.
Emma stared at her husband as she contemplated the next night. “Are you dead serious about wanting me to be dressed to impress you?” she asked grinning.
“Hell yeah, I am. I know I’m the luckiest man there, but I want every person there to gaze upon my woman and want to be me.”
“Okay,” she stated, holding out her hand.
He lifted a brow. “And you’re waiting for what?” Croft inquired trying not to grin.
“I need your credit card, Greyson. If you want to get that kind of lucky in Vegas, it’s going to cost you.”
He stared with his mouth open, but still pulled out his wallet, willing to give her whatever she desired.
“Come to Emma, lover. We have some shopping to do tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind a little pain,” she crooned to the card, trying not to laugh. “I swear it’ll only hurt a little, baby.”
“Now, honey,” he said, laughing. “Be gentle. I don’t want to have a stroke when I see the bill.”
There was only laughter as she headed out to her desk. If he wanted arm candy, she was going to give it to him. “Greyson, I’m going
to make it hurt so good.”
“Emma!”
* * *
Brynn Westmore stood out at the coffee machine getting a hit of caffeine. She’d snuck away to call the FBI head lab tech and tell him it was over between them. She reassured him it had been fun, but one-night stands weren’t her thing, especially now that she and Curtis had their discussion.
If she could turn back the hands of time, she’d go back and stop it all together. Fortunately, Max Pauley didn't seem bothered by it. He told her no problem and wished her good luck.
Could it really be that easy?
Standing there, Brynn stared off into nothingness as she thought it over. She never heard the man walking up behind her.
“Brynn?” he asked softly.
She jumped three feet off the ground and grabbed her chest. “Curtis! You shouldn’t sneak up on people!”
He began laughing. “I didn't really try to surprise you. You were staring off into space. Are you okay?” he asked. He was concerned about her today. Brynn was obviously distracted.
“I’m good. I’m just tired. I didn't sleep well last night,” she stated. Yeah, because she was letting the FBI lab tech climb all over her. Even the flashback was horrifying to her.
“Greyson just returned from talking to the commissioner,” he began, breaking the rest down. “I was wondering if you’d be my date.”
She stared at him.
“You know… for the event?” he asked hopefully.
“I’d love to,” she answered, when she was finally able to speak.
Briggs grinned at her. “Emma said black tie, so you have to do the girl dress up thing,” he added, hoping she wouldn’t mind the short notice.
Now, she was horrified again. Visuals of Cinderella at the ball flashed into her mind. She was a cop. What the hell did she know about getting all girly? Brynn prayed her partner was good at things like this, because she was going to have to help her pull it off.
“Where’s Emma?” she asked, needing to find her to beg for any possible assistance. She didn't own a single thing that screamed black tie. Why would she? Cops didn't do gowns, they did guns.
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 27
