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

by Morgan Kelley

  Oh, there was no way in hell he was leaving Emma alone with Trudy. Apparently, Tom had a death wish, but he didn't. There would be a bloodbath or worse, she’d divorce him. Croft might have only been a married man for a few weeks, but he wasn’t stupid.

  It all came down to self-preservation and his sex life. If he left her, he’d pay dearly with both.

  “I think Emma should join us,” he stated, trying to get his friend to take a hint.

  “I’m sure the women have lots to discuss, like charity work and other endeavors that they have in common.”

  Emma spoke up. “Actually, I could tell her about the dead bodies and how the one woman’s ears were cut off and stitched to her arm. I have pictures. Want to see?” she asked Trudy, who had gone pale. “There’s a really great close up of the stitches in her lips too.”

  Again, Croft grinned and hid it behind his napkin.

  Trudy didn't want the woman anywhere near her. “We can catch up another time. That’s quite all right.”

  “I don’t really do the ‘debutant charity’ thing,” stated Emma, standing. “I do the ‘homicide’ thing, the ‘murder’ thing, and ‘locking up the criminal’s’ thing. So, I can’t imagine your wife wants anything to do with me. Isn’t that right, Trudy?”

  The woman was horrified, and now she had a disgusted look on her face.

  Emma knew the woman disliked her from day one, but she had no idea why. But if she was going to hand out veiled insults, Emma would play that game- guest or not.

  Croft held out his hand, taking her with him to the den. There were two seats, and the men both claimed a chair. Greyson patted his lap and Emma willingly sat. Immediately, she leaned against him and placed her cheek against the side of his forehead.

  “Would you like some bourbon, Emma?” inquired Tom Booker, heading to his liquor cabinet.

  “No thank you.”

  Greyson took the amber liquid and sipped it as the man returned with a humidor.

  “Will your wife permit you to have a cigar, Greyson?” he asked, holding out the box.

  He tensed beneath her.

  “Honey, may I choose for you?” she inquired, staring down into his eyes. He deserved this moment. All night, he’d been trying to protect her.

  “Thank you, sweet stuff.”

  She winked, picking one of the cigars and holding it in her hand. When Tom offered her the clipper, she prepped his cigar and handed it to her husband. “Let me help you, Grey,” she purred, taking his drink and holding it in one hand while she flicked the zippo with the other.

  Croft began smoking as his woman sat in his lap. He was becoming aroused by the closeness they were sharing. Every now and then, she’d wiggle, and it was making it hard to concentrate on anything but her. He wondered if this was what old Vegas had really been like. The men sitting around and the women letting them be the boss.

  “The smoke won’t bother you, will it, Em?” he asked, thinking about the lacy things he knew were under her clothes. God, he wished they were home.

  She leaned down and kissed him. “No babe. I’m good.” Emma was enjoying the scent of cigar and the taste of bourbon on his lips. It was intoxicatingly delicious. The more she sat in his lap, the harder it was to not think about him intimately pressed to her bottom. Emma was in just the right spot to torment him.

  Tom interrupted them. “How about we talk business first, and then we can socialize.”

  Emma knew where this was headed. “Okay, Commissioner.”

  He grinned as she switched to being a cop. “How’s the case coming? I saw the paper yesterday and it’s a media circus.”

  A part of Croft hated that his wife had been right. He’d hoped deep down that his friend wasn’t going to dig for information. This was why he wanted to talk to him alone. The man had personal motives.

  “We have some leads that we’re developing. Right now, we’re digging into Randall Mason’s past, because we believe the killer is after him personally.” Emma made no mention of the forensics they had that pointed at the man’s son. She didn't trust Tom Booker as far as she could toss him. At that moment, all the information that they had was housed safely in the FBI files. Emma didn't even update Captain Ford yet. Booker had nothing and that had to be making him nuts.

  “I saw the photos of the bodies. What does it all mean?”

  Croft stepped in, taking over for his wife to protect her job. He knew she wanted to keep him safe, but it was his responsibility to be her guardian.

  “I have that out at the profiler right now. We know the killer is a little off his rocker, so we’re letting the professionals assess him. We don’t want to overlook anything.”

  Emma dropped a kiss to the top of his head as he lied for her.

  “That’s a good idea, son. Captain Ford has been giving me updates, and he said you’re making headway, and that’s what matters. We can’t have our citizens being afraid of walking the streets.”

  “I agree,” said Emma. “We have everyone on it, and the FBI lab is dissecting everything.”

  “How’s Detective Westmore?” he asked, sipping his drink.

  Croft took a puff of his cigar and answered. “She’s doing much better. She’s in stable condition, up and talking, and wants to get out of the hospital, as you can imagine.”

  “She’s another tough broad.”

  Greyson was hoping the man wasn’t referring to his wife like that. He was about to comment when Emma kissed his ear and whispered to let it go.

  “Just keep plugging away on the case. I have faith you’ll work it out. Randall Mason has nothing but good things to say about you, Emma. He’s taken a shine to you, and you’re becoming the LVPD’s biggest star.”

  Yeah, like she gave a rat’s ass about Mason’s opinion.

  Before Croft could comment, Emma’s phone went off. Her husband pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. Looking down, she stood. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s work. I have to take this,” she apologized as she exited the room to find privacy.

  “Detective Croft,” she said, glad to escape into the cool night air. The familiar voice over the phone was nothing but a relief.

  “Emma, it’s Steele. I have your tox reports in and figured you would want them as soon as possible.”

  “I do, thank you,” she said as she sniffed a strand of her hair. It was a mix of her lavender shampoo and her husband’s cigar smoke, and oddly, it didn't bother her.

  “Our victim number four was a heavy drinker. She had cirrhosis of the liver, and it wasn’t pretty.”

  “Yeah, we saw her lifestyle and it screamed binge drinker.”

  “Well, I have another snapshot of her lifestyle. Our fourth victim was carrying the HIV virus.”

  “Oh boy,” Emma said, thinking about the men in the house where she resided. “She was sleeping with quite a few partners, and they weren’t exactly monogamous either.”

  “They need to be notified and that includes the man whose DNA matched the sample you brought in. This is a disaster.”

  Emma then thought about Dyer Mason. Oh, yuck. This was a catastrophe waiting to explode. Who knew how many other showgirls he had tricked into having sex with him?

  “We got the results back to the abrasion on her face. The particles were concrete dirt, and it matched the side of the building. I would say from the frontal bruising, she was pressed against the stone during intercourse.”

  “Thanks, Doc.”

  “I’ll transmit the documents to you.”

  Emma appreciated it. “That works for me.”

  The line clicked dead as she headed back into the house to find her husband, already formulating her plan.

  * * *

  The commissioner watched Emma leave. “You two are an interesting couple. Generally, Greyson, in our circle the wives are seen and not heard. You have a lot to learn yet.”

  Yeah, Croft definitely needed to get new friends. “My wife isn’t arm candy, Tom. She’s my partner in life and anything else that pops up.
”

  “Son, the men we run with are of a different age, and they don’t want to see you being dragged down by the constraints of marriage. You have your trophy, now put it on the shelf, and join the boy’s club for some fun and excitement. It’s expected.”

  “Listen Tom, I appreciate your concern for my social standing in Vegas, but I have to be honest. I don’t plan on cheating on my wife to climb the ladder or playing boy’s club games. I’m here to be the FBI director, and I’m married to a homicide detective, who is damn good at her job.”

  “I’m just saying that perception is the thing that defines us. You can have a dalliance here and there and bend a few rules and no one would be the wiser. The group protects its own. Someone would cover for you.”

  Now, he was bordering on outrage, but he managed to control it. Maybe if he tried a different route. “Tom, I would know. I took vows and I intend to keep them. For the record, my wife takes care of all my needs in bed. I don’t have time for another woman,” he stated, hoping the man took the hint. He also prayed that Emma didn't walk in and hear any of this conversation.

  Booker began laughing and decided to give up. “Well, then good for you. If she ever turns into a chilly old prude, give me a call. I have a masseuse that can work all the knots out, if you get what I’m saying. She’ll come right to your office, like she does mine, and her oral skills are the best in the business. It’s the finest stress reliever that money can buy, if you know what I mean.”

  Croft couldn’t believe his ears. The man who he called friend and admired was cheating on his wife with some woman he hired for oral gratification. Jesus, this city had to be the death of all morals.

  “Don’t look surprised, son. When a meal isn’t as spicy as you like, you don’t toss it out, you get some sauce on the side to make it all more palatable.”

  Yeah, he wasn’t taking that road ever. His wife was more than he ever deserved in life, and he wouldn’t risk it for a cheap encounter. Now, Croft was beginning to feel bad for Trudy.

  “Just keep your eyes on that pretty little thing, Greyson. Your job will take you away, make you work long hours, and bore her to tears. If it looks like an affair and smells like one, it is one.”

  That was one of his biggest fears in life. “I trust my wife with my life.”

  “Greyson,” Emma said from the doorway.

  She had his attention.

  “We had something come up with the case, and we have to go,” Emma stated as she waiting for him to join her.

  Croft stood, grateful work interceded and was getting him the hell out of there. “Sorry, Tom, but duty calls.”

  “Thank you for the dinner invitation, Commissioner. Please thank your wife for us.”

  The man watched them go. His friend had a lot to learn about Vegas. It was a good thing he was patient enough to teach him. It wouldn’t take long to get him on the right track.

  Out in the car, he backed out of the driveway. “What’s the emergency? Is there another body?”

  Emma began laughing. “I lied. I had to get the hell out of there. It was putting me over the edge.”

  He glanced over shocked.

  “Are you mad?”

  Croft was entertained. “Are you kidding me? Let’s go home. I was sick of listening to Tom trying to school me.”

  He floored it to escape the gated community. Right now, all he wanted was to get his wife back to their condominium and into his arms. Croft needed to distract himself and stop thinking about the little seeds of fear that were planted in his mind.

  He wouldn’t believe them.

  He couldn’t.

  Emma was his.

  * * *

  It was hard to swallow that the media was more interested in the man who shot the detective than the dead woman left on Mason’s family plot.

  How could that be?

  As for the cops, they had more than enough clues to ferret it out between them. Unfortunately, they too were getting more of the attention.

  That meant only one thing. Someone else had to die, and this time there was no going for some stupid woman who worked for Randall Mason. This time, there was going to be a key player taken out of the game.

  It was a matter of upping the stakes. Yes, there’d be remorse, but it would pass.

  All things came to those who deserved it. That mantra should be part of everyone’s life.

  Oh, and an eye for an eye.

  That one mattered too.

  Curiosity settled in as the killer wondered if all of Randall Mason’s money would be enough to fix the hole that was going to be in his heart.

  Time would tell.

  * * *

  Once back at their condominium, it looked like the media was getting tired of sitting around and waiting for them. Yeah, there were a few cars remaining, and a few men with cameras but most had abandoned ship.

  Pulling in and parking, Greyson Croft had an evening planned for his wife. Thanks to her little white lie, they’d be able to spend the next hour together before slipping into bed. It was rare they had these moments, and once this case was over, he’d be paying the piper. There was a backlog of cases building on his desk at work and the nights coming up were going to be long. All he could hope was that the words Tom Booker uttered were nothing but a way to shake his confidence. He had to believe that Emma wouldn’t ever do that to him.

  She was his, wasn’t she?

  Entering their home, Croft locked the door and headed to the docking station with speakers. Pushing his phone into it, he hit the app and the room flooded with the soft sounds of music.

  “Want a drink, Grey?” she asked, knowing her husband was in the mood to build some memories. Randomly, he’d pull out the seduction for her and give her something to reminisce about when they were apart.

  “No, I want my wife over here, now,” he bossily ordered as he grinned at her.

  Emma would let him have his moment, just to be wrapped in his arms.

  “Yes, sir,” she answered, as she winked at him.

  When he pulled her against him, they began swaying to the music. She was pressed against the front of him, and he never wanted to let go. “You look so beautiful tonight,” he whispered as he left little kisses along the curl of her ear

  Emma shivered at the breath on her neck. “Grey, being near you is absolutely perfect,” she replied, running her hands up his chest. Her husband was so strong and she never felt afraid in his arms.

  He dipped her and stared into her eyes. “You’re the only woman I’ll ever need.”

  Emma knew there was a reason for it all. She could see the pain in his eyes, but now wasn’t the time to ask. He needed these moments to work it out. She’d let him find his peace, and then question him.

  “I believe you, Grey,” she answered. “I won’t ever love anyone but you. I promise.”

  Then, she saw the wave of relief. Something had stirred him

  up. Yeah, and she could guess who did it too.

  Pulling her back up, his lips found her throat and he lightly nipped her there. “When you sat in my lap tonight, I knew you were trying to drive me crazy,” he admitted, nibbling on her earlobe.

  God!

  How he’d love to devour her in little bites.

  “I admit it. I wanted my husband turned on and thinking about me,” she answered. “I wanted him daydreaming about tonight and us in bed together.”

  Oh, well if that was her plan, it worked.

  “I’m very turned on, Emma. I want to take you into our bedroom, get you very naked, and make love to you.”

  Emma stood on her toes and ran her lips across his, teasingly. Her hand began pulling his shirt out of his pants. “I think we should start in here, Grey, and see where it takes us.”

  He could feel her hands starting to get busy. Already, his dress shirt was untucked, and she had his belt open. It wouldn’t take his wife long to get what she wanted. He might be the bossy one, but when it came to Emma, there was nothing he could deny her.


  Pulling him towards the oversized chair, it was one of their favorite spots. It sat off to the corner of the room in the reading nook they’d set up. Once there, Emma pushed him back into it. “Tonight started in a chair, it should end here too,” she stated, staring down at her very sexy husband.

  Croft watched Emma begin to unbuckle the belt at her own waist. As she turned, she sat on his one knee.

  “Unzip me, Greyson,” Emma requested, softly in a very seductive purr.

  Oh yeah, she was his kitten. Before she had claws, but now she was all softness and wanted to be stroked.

  He did what she asked, running his lips down the flesh that the sliding zipper was now exposing. “There you go, Emma,” he answered, enjoying her little strip show for just him.

  She stood back up, freed her shoulders, and then let the dress drop. Emma watched as his eyes traveled up and down her body. The look on his face said it all. It was a mix of heat, lust, and approval.

  Greyson was thinking about how his friend had recommended he try out his masseuse. Why would he want to when he had Emma? She was graceful and perfect. Greyson wanted to run his fingers up and down her body just to stroke her silky flesh.

  “I want to make love to my husband tonight, and give him the same pleasure he gives me,” she purred, kneeling before him as she stared up into her eyes. “May I, Grey?”

  “Emma,” he whispered, his heart thundering in his chest. She was asking permission? Little did she realize, he was her captive and couldn’t move away if he tried. “Yes, you may,” he finally got out. His wife was driving him crazy, and she didn't even touch him yet. It was likely the black lacy undergarments that she was wearing. Here she was looking completely innocent, and he knew it was all part of illusion.

  Emma was a wicked seductress, and she owned him. He should be the one wearing the handcuffed necklace. He was hers forever.

  As she ran her hands up his legs, he quivered under her touch. There was something about having the woman you love on her knees.