“So, you rented us a car, huh?” she stated, trying to get him to spill the details.
“Yep.”
“Are you going to be secretive about this too?”
“Yep,” he replied again as he grinned.
Her heart skipped in her chest. The man was her everything. “I might be convinced to share with you the color of my dress.”
That caught him off guard. “What do you want in exchange?”
“Details.”
He contemplated it. “It’s not a limo and not a Lincoln.”
That narrowed it down. “Green.”
“Like your eyes?”
It was her turn. “Yep.”
Before he could continue, a bleached blond woman in a designer suit strolled in, only focused on the papers she carried.
Once she glanced up and saw the man, he immediately had her entire focus. “Well, hello. I’m sorry to make you wait,” she said, holding out her well-manicured hand to shake his.
“It’s not a problem. I’m Director Greyson Croft and this is Detective…” He got no further, before she cut him right off. It was as if his wife didn't exist, and that irritated the hell out of him.
“Greyson Croft? As in the new head of the FBI in Vegas?”
“Uh, yes.” He tried to begin again. “This is,” and once more she shut him down.
“I read about you in the paper a couple weeks back. It’s a shame that the other director was ousted like that for taking kickbacks from casinos.”
“Yeah, well it is against the law. He should have known better.”
Emma watched it all going down and was entertained. The barracuda was salivating as she stared down her husband. Oh, this was going to be fun to watch unfold.
“He needed a really good lawyer. He should have come to us. We would have gotten him cleared. If you need a good attorney, you should give me a call. I’ll get you off.”
The way she said the last part of the sentence was so blatant that Emma almost started laughing.
Oh, the caveman was looking a little out of his element on this one.
Croft wasn’t amused in the least. “No thank you.”
“If you change your mind, here’s my number.” The woman scribbled her private number on the back. Yeah, she wouldn’t mind mixing business and pleasure with the man. He looked like he’d be an excellent ride to the top. In Vegas, it was all about who you knew and the person you were shacking up with in bed.
Greyson placed the card on the corner of her desk as he sat down. He could see his wife out of the corner of his eye, and she was finding the entire situation hilarious. One way or another, he’d get even.
“I was wondering, Director, since I scored an invite to the premier tonight, and all of the key players in Vegas are going to be there, would you like to attend with me?”
Croft was beyond mortified, more so that his wife wasn’t even trying to rescue him from the bleached out attorney. “No thank you. We’re already attending.”
“Come on! We could talk business and discuss me becoming your personal counsel.”
Okay, he needed help. This was getting way out of control. He needed to redirect this to get the blonde to clearly understand. “I’m sorry, but my wife picked our attorney, so we’re good.”
The woman looked disappointed. “You should bring her in. Maybe I can change her mind.”
Now, Emma stepped in to rescue her man. “I wouldn’t bet on that, especially after I saw your behavior. His wife is sitting right here, so let me make the introductions. I’m Detective Croft, as in she that deals with dead bodies, of which you may be having something very much in common with shortly. I suggest you retract the claws and have a seat until the next piece of man flesh strolls through. Greyson isn’t available to be your client or anything else that was going on in your brain.”
The woman stared at her. This little thing was the wife of an FBI director? Please... He needed someone powerful.
“Let me further clarify, I wouldn’t let you near his assets if my life depended on it, Ms. Dumas. So how about we discuss something you can assist us with?”
Croft grinned at his wife. Emma didn't often get riled up, but when she did, it was fun to watch.
“Certainly. You wished to discuss the Harrison Tyler lawsuit? I don’t know what I can tell you, since client confidentiality is important to our firm.”
“We only need to know the basics, like why it was dropped,” Croft added.
She rolled her eyes as if now they were nothing but a pain in her ass.
It entertained Emma further. She was glad they were bothering her. The woman hitting on her husband was inconvenient too.
“We received a notice from the plaintiff’s attorney, and it simply stated he wished to no longer pursue it. I can say that he didn't have a snowballs chance in hell. When we investigated the situation, we found that it wasn’t negligence based on the building being owned by our client, but the unsafe work instructions by the company producing the show.”
“So, you believed Mason Productions was liable?”
She shrugged. “That’s not my opinion to make. My job was to clear my client, and I would have.”
Croft had a question, “So, if someone cancelled the lawsuit at the last minute, then who pays the fees?”
She thought about it, “Our client was responsible for any work we did for him, such as the private safety investigator we hired, or the investigators that questioned all the people at the scene. He was responsible for the man hours we put into the case prepping for court.”
“And how much was Harrison in for?” Emma asked.
The woman shook her head, unwilling to specify.
“How about you ball park it for me?” she pushed. “Was it enough to pay for a condo in an exclusive location, or four years tuition at Harvard?”
The woman thought about it. “Harvard.”
Croft stood and held out his hand for his wife. “Thank you for your assistance.”
“If you change your mind, please give me a call,” she called after him.
Then, she noticed, he’d left her business card.
“Damn it! I hate wives.”
* * *
Agent Briggs and Detective Westmore were having no better luck at their meeting. The man representing Mason Productions wasn’t in the mood to deal with them. If he couldn’t answer with a ‘yes’ or ‘no’, he wasn’t going there. He had road blocked them at every single opportunity and only offered them the bare minimum.
The only thing they discovered was that the fees were sucked up by the company and Randall Mason didn't even bat an eyelash. Two hundred and fifty grand was nothing to his bankroll.
Walking out of the lawyer’s office, they pretty much had wasted the last hour of their time.
“What now?” Brynn asked, glancing over at Briggs.
“Well, we know that Mason has enough money that he could scoff at any possible lawsuit. I doubt that he would have cared if the man did sue. He was only looking for one hundred and seventy five thousand. The lawyer cost more than that.”
“Maybe it was the arrogance of being challenged. Powerful men don’t like to be shown up.”
Briggs thought about it. “That fits, but it was the man who cancelled the lawsuit. Had he gone through with it, he would have probably won or at least got an out of court settlement.”
“I guess we need to find out why he stopped the suit.”
He agreed. “I wonder what the going rate on revenge is now a days?” he pondered off handedly. “Well, losing that chunk of money might have driven him over the edge.”
“People kill for a lot less.”
Briggs nodded. “Hell yeah, they do.” Speaking of which, he had his own business to handle. “Can you swing us by the FBI building?”
“Sure, you need to pick something up?”
He thought about his conversation last night with his partner. “Not really, but I do need to check on something in the lab.” Briggs took her free hand.<
br />
“Okay, I’ll wait in the car for you.”
Considering what was coming, that would probably be for the best.
Knocking at the door, Croft glanced down at his watch. They needed to get this done, and he needed to get some things on paper for the afternoon briefing. When he knocked again, he genuinely thought no one was home.
“Who are you?” came the voice.
He glanced over at his wife as he lifted a brow. “I’m with the FBI. My partner here is a Detective with the LVPD. We need to talk to you about Harrison Tyler and Randall Mason.”
Slowly, the door opened and a man peeked out.
“Are you Nick Quinn?” Emma asked, watching him carefully. The man looked twitchy.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Can we talk to you about the lawsuit you had against both Harrison Tyler and Randall Mason?” she asked.
He stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “What about it?”
Croft didn't have time to beat around the bush on this one. “Why did you drop it?”
The man said nothing.
“Sir?” Emma prodded. They really needed him to answer. It might be the one piece of the puzzle they needed to solve the case.
Out of the blue, the man erupted. “One of those assholes was threatening me. I received a call saying to drop it, or they’d find my body buried out in the desert.”
Croft moved protectively towards his wife as he placed his body alongside hers. “Who?” he replied.
“I don’t know! But I believed they’d do it. That bastard Mason and his asshole son wouldn’t think twice of eliminating a person just to win.”
This was the first Croft was hearing about Randall Mason’s son. It was an interesting little tidbit to add to the mix for later contemplation.
“What can you tell us about him?” Emma asked, pulling out her phone to make notes for later.
“He’s daddy’s golden child and the only heir to the entire Mason fortune. Did you know that he’s worth more than a billion dollars-- or so they say?”
This piqued their interest.
“Where his father is ruthless, the son has only one goal in life.”
Croft waited for him to clue them in on what it was.
“He can’t keep it in his pants. He’s knocked up countless women and daddy had them taken care of to keep his family intact.”
Emma made a note to have Briggs do a deep search on both the Mason men. “How do you know?” she asked, needing a baseline on his validity.
“I used to be the sound man and orchestra guy. I would be working in the pit and could hear some of the conversations. He knocked up two showgirls and daddy bought them an abortion and a nice place to call their own to keep them quiet. He didn't want any bastard children laying claim to the Mason money.”
Thank God, he wasn’t alluding to them being offed. This was Vegas after all, and it wouldn’t be the first.
“What’s the son’s name?” Croft asked. He was making his own notes to email to his partner.
“It’s Dyer. The old man only spawned one kid, and it’s probably a good thing. The son is a spoiled bastard. If he sees a woman he wants, daddy makes it happen.”
Croft was getting that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. This all circled around Randall Mason, and he was the biggest contributor to the LVPD. He prayed it didn't get ugly. He’d be safe, but Emma was heading a case that could explode around them.
“Do you think it was Randall Mason who threatened you?”
The man’s motions were jerky. “Someone did! Now I’m blackballed from working in this town, and I can’t get a decent job. I have to always look over my shoulder, and I want someone to pay!”
The alarm bells were going off.
“Can you tell us what day you got the call?”
He thought about it, “Yeah, I was going to court the fourteenth of February. I got the call two days before, so the twelfth.”
Emma made note of it. “Was it on your cell or your home phone?”
The man looked to be calming down now that someone was paying attention to his claims. “Cell,” he answered as he rattled off the number for her.
“We’ll work on this for you, Mr. Quinn,” Emma reassured. What they needed was to keep the man calm. He was a bit too edgy for her liking.
“Someone has to make them see they aren’t Gods! You can’t screw with people’s lives. Randall Mason takes anything he wants and doesn’t care. Someone has to make him stop!”
Emma said nothing else as she stepped back. The man had the odor of booze and pot lingering on his clothes. It was never a good combination when fueled with anger. Honestly, Emma was damn glad her husband was here with her for this one, just in case.
“We’re going to look into your claims, Mr. Quinn. Stay available in case we need to ask you more questions,” Croft added, while he backed away from the porch.
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere until Randall Mason gets what he deserves!”
Back at the FBI office building, Briggs hopped out of the car and only paused to stare back in at Brynn. “Give me ten minutes. It shouldn’t take long,” he stated.
“Okay, Curtis. I’m going to walk across the street and get a coffee, do you want one?”
“Sure Brynn. I’ll take an iced one. It’s getting hot out.”
She parked the car as he stormed across the lot. Her eyes travelled his long body and she grinned. He had a really cute ass.
Crossing the street, she picked up two coffees and went back to the vehicle to wait. While there, she couldn’t help but think about the man in the building. He was sweet and gentle, and she couldn’t believe she was going to get a second chance.
Today was her lucky day.
Special Agent Briggs wandered his way down to the lab. He’d never been there before and when he finally arrived, he easily locating the offending party. Inside was Max Pauley, and he was all alone and busy with some papers.
“Hey, you need something, Agent?” he asked, glancing up as he recognized the man who was with the director at the police precinct.
Briggs hit the lock on the door and crossed the room. “Yeah, you can say we have something to discuss,” he stated, crossing his arms. He hoped he looked intimidating like his boss.
Max watched him warily. The agent before him looked pissed off. He was taller than him and had to be at least six feet, if not more. The agent was staring at him with piercing blue eyes filled with total animosity.
“About?” he asked standing.
“It was brought to my attention that you had a one night stand with Detective Westmore.”
“Yeah, and?”
“You seem to like to kiss and tell. Well, I’m here to offer you some advice on the topic.”
The man stepped back as the agent moved closer. “What?”
“Stay away from her, and if I hear you even mention her name, in a way, that isn’t a simple greeting followed by ‘have a nice day’, I’m coming back here.”
“Are you threatening me?”
Briggs took another step closer. “I’m telling you, man to man, that if you say shit about her, someone’s going to need to be driving you to the ER.”
He wasn’t sure if he was serious.
“Don’t think about her or talk about her. I’m not kidding. I got transferred out here for beating the hell out of a co-worker. Ask our boss.” Okay, so that was a big lie, but the tech wouldn’t know that, and who’d have the balls to bring it up to Croft? “Stay away,” he growled, turning away and walking out of the room.
Once outside the door, he couldn’t help but grin.
So, this is what it felt like to be badass like his partner as he was defending the girl.
He had bad news for Brynn.
He was definitely a caveman in training.
And he liked it…
They met up once again at the café. Emma and Greyson walked up holding hands and whispering between them. They were discussing the evening after the pre
mier, and what they had planned. As they approached the table, they both tried to not look all hot and bothered.
Taking their seats, Emma slid her chair closer towards her husband’s. “How did your appointment with the attorney go?” she asked, ordering her lunch. She went with a salad, only because she knew what she was going to have to squeeze into that evening.
“We got absolutely nothing.”
Croft laughed. “Yeah, same here.”
Emma shook her head. “Not true. We found out that the attorney wanted to have sex with my husband and be his date for tonight.”
Greyson began choking. “Emma! I don’t think we need to go there.”
Brynn leaned forward. “Did you kill her?”
“No, but if I see her tonight pawing at him, someone’s bleached out head will be rolling down the strip.”
Briggs began laughing.
There was no doubt in his mind that Greyson needed to get control of this before his wife was worked up into a tizzy. “Then, we dropped by Nick Quinn’s house,” he stated. “He’s swearing that someone threatened him to drop the suit.”
Brynn leaned back as the waitress placed her food in front of her. “Do you believe him?”
They both shrugged.
“He smelled like booze and pot, so I don’t know what I think,” Emma stated. “People on drugs say and do stupid things.”
Croft was with her on that one. “We’ll check into it tomorrow. It may or may not pan out.”
Brynn stood, “Excuse me, but I see a friend,” she said, leaving the table and crossing the café.
“I need to talk to you both,” Briggs said softly.
They both leaned forward.
“I stopped by the FBI building and dropped into the lab,” he admitted.
“Oh no,” Emma said, knowing where this was heading.
“What did you do?” Croft asked, already working on damage control in his mind.
“I paid Max Pauley a little visit.”
Emma closed her eyes and sighed. Here was another brute in the making.
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 31
