Finally, he kicked in the last door, only to find his wife’s prone form lying in her own blood. It pooled around her as her rich red hair floated sickly in it.
Reaching down in shock, Croft went to feel for a pulse as he hoped it wasn’t true. Before he could touch her, Emma’s green eyes popped open and stared at him.
“You let me die.”
His heart pounded.
“You promised to protect me.”
The bile rose up in his throat.
“You killed me, Greyson Croft. Marrying you was my death. I won’t ever forgive you!”
The strangled sob broke free from his lips as his body was forced into a sitting position in bed. The thundering staccato of his heart was pounding in his ears as he fought to calm down. Immediately there were hands, and they caressed, soothed, and offered peace.
They were followed by lips leaving kisses across his shoulders and back as she wrapped her arms around him from behind.
“It was only a dream,” she whispered, promising to stay with him.
His heart filled with pain at the knowledge he might lose her. The only woman he ever loved in his life, and she was at risk because of him.
“I have you, babe. I promise that I have you.”
But did he have her?
He wanted to scream and rage that he needed to protect her, and the same time he prayed that he didn’t fail. “Emma,” he finally got her name out as she moved around his body. Sitting in his lap, she wrapped her legs around his hips. This time, the kisses were to his chin, scar, and across his chest.
“I’ll make you forget,” she murmured as she continued to leave a trail of light butterfly kisses that offered him reassurance.
Croft let go of the dream and tried to focus solely on his wife as she gave him comfort. His heart was slowing as she soothed his fears. When she stopped to unbutton the shirt she had slept in, he watched her in the moonlight as it flooded in from the balcony.
“Emma,” he whispered as he stared in awe that the beautiful woman in their bed was his and his alone.
“I have you, Grey,” she crooned, pushing him back to continue her gentle exploration of her mouth. Whenever Emma had a scary dream, this was how he offered her peace, and now she’d give back to the man who owned her heart.
Allowing her lips to travel lower, across his navel and past his muscle-corded hips, she used the tip of her tongue to trace intimate patterns on his warm flesh. With her fingers, she slid his boxers lower to give her full access to his amazing body.
Emma took her time, blowing across his erection as she watched it tighten and bob. It was begging for her attention. With her fingers, she stroked and soothed there too- offering the never-ending promise of love.
Leaving a trail of kisses, she slid up his frame, resting him in just the right spot as she stared down into his eyes. “You’re the only man I’ll ever need, love or believe in,” she promised, sliding him home in one stroke.
“Emma,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “Please don’t ever leave me. I can’t go on without you.”
She watched him fill with emotion as she began her slow ride. With each stroke up, his breathing matched. At that moment there was perfect syncopation. Everything was exactly how it should be. It proved one thing.
She was the reason he existed.
Without Emma, he’d vanish and sink into such wallowing despair that he wouldn’t go on living.
How could he?
All focus was now on what she was offering him.
“I’ll never leave you, Greyson,” she whispered, placing her hand over his heart. “I live here,” she finished, feeling his body quake in response to her words.
He lifted his own hand and placed it over the spot on her breast that protected her heart. “If you go, I go,” he promised, taking the pledge.
Emma’s eyes filled with tears and they began spilling down her cheeks as they continued to make love. As she tightened around him, he moaned her name, and refused to fight it. When she fell, he would follow.
He’d chase the only woman he loved.
Even to the final moments of their lives.
There was no Greyson without Emma. Love couldn’t flourish in the void if she were to go.
Emma shook, as her body was at the precipice, shattering as she slid him home.
Greyson could feel her tumble and went for the ride, just allowing himself that fall into perfection and bliss with his woman.
As the room stopped spinning and the colors ended their spiral dance, Croft pulled her against him. Burying his face in her throat, he did something he never did with any other woman in his life.
He wept until he fell into the nothingness.
* * *
Wednesday Morning
There was nothing worse than being jolted awake from a sound sleep, but that’s exactly what happened that morning.
Their door was flung open and hit the wall with a thud. Greyson’s instincts kicked in as he grabbed his gun and placed himself over Emma protectively.
When he saw it was his partner, he almost wanted to shoot him regardless, for scaring him. “Are you out of your damn mind?” he scolded, glancing over at Emma to make sure her body was covered. After they made love, they fell asleep naked. His wife was resting on her stomach, the long line of her back visible to everyone in the room.
“I’m sorry, but I figured you needed to hear this!” he exclaimed excitedly. He was trying not to notice that Emma was in bed completely naked.
“Get out, Curtis, or I swear I’ll shoot you.”
“I know who the killer is!” He was bouncing excitedly.
Croft growled. “It’s going to be me in exactly three seconds.”
Emma pulled the sheet up and rolled, wrapping it around her body to cover herself. “Curtis, you’ll still know who it is in five minutes. Go make coffee, or Grey is going to do something drastic.”
The man rushed out, pulling the door shut.
Greyson stared over at his wife and ran his fingers across her lips. “Emma, about last night,” he paused, unsure what to say.
She went to her knees before him and took his face in the palms of her hands. “There’s nothing to discuss,” she answered, kissing him softly and tenderly. When he succumbed to the pressure last night, she promised herself she’d do anything to help ease the tension. He was a man on the edge, balancing the FBI, her serial killer and worrying about the mess that was coming.
The man was ready to crack.
She needed to hold him together.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, ashamed of his weakness.
Staring into his eyes, she shook her head. “No apologies for needing to lean, Grey. That’s what I’m here for. I’m not just here to warm your bed. I’m here to protect your heart.”
He buried his face in her neck, eternally grateful for her.
“Come on,” she said, finally pulling away. “Let’s get dressed,” she stated, slipping out of bed.
“I need a quick shower. Please tell my young partner how dangerous it is to break into a man’s bedroom when he’s sleeping with a loaded gun. He has obviously lost his mind and forgot all that I’ve taught him.”
Emma watched him walk away buck naked. “Yes, sir,” she answered. Heading into her closet, she pulled out her clothes for the day, including her spare vest. Emma made the promise to him, and she intended to keep it. Slipping into her undergarments, she pulled on her body armor and continued to dress.
Looking out the balcony window, she saw the windy gray morning on the horizon. Winter was coming to Vegas. Pulling out a pull over, she headed out to her husband’s partner.
“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to scare you both,” he said, first thing when he saw her.
“Curtis, knock next time. He adores you and thinks of you like a little brother. If his instincts weren’t what they were, you’d be dead.”
He nodded. “I was just so excited.”
She laughed. “Well, now we’re even,”
Emma said, taking the mug of coffee from the man.
“Huh?”
“I saw you naked in Celestia in the shower and you got your one peek too,” she teased.
Briggs stared openmouthed. “If the boss hears you say that...” He didn't get to finish.
“I’m going to drop him off the balcony.” Croft answered, heading towards his wife.
She started laughing and accepted his kiss.
“Okay, Curtis, you better have something so damn amazing that my head spins,” he stated, pouring a cup of coffee for himself and taking a seat.
“Okay, are you ready for this?” he began. “I did the search on Bridgette Williams and here’s what I found,” Briggs began breaking it down. “The woman left her job thirty one years ago for a very good reason.”
“And that is?” Emma asked.
“She was pregnant.”
Croft became excited. “Keep going. I’m almost willing to forgive you for barging into our room.”
He grinned. “After leaving the production company, ten months later, she gave birth.”
That was off to Emma.
“Did you find the birth certificate?” Greyson inquired, waiting for his partner to give them all he had.
“I did. Bridgette Williams had a bouncing baby girl.”
The pieces were beginning to fall into place for Emma. It was as if the switch was flicked, and the answers were becoming clear. “What was the date of the child’s birth?”
Greyson watched her processing the information and trying to string it all together.
Briggs scanned the data. “She gave birth on January ninth.”
Grinning, she looked over at her husband. “One hundred and nine pins.”
“That’s one question answered,” he said, proud of his wife. She wasn’t just a pretty package, but a smartly honed cop willing to solve it.
Emma was leaning forward. “Did she name her Maureen, by any chance?”
“No, she didn't name her, because she promptly gave her up for adoption and left the hospital,” replied Briggs.
“Did the family who adopted her name her Maureen?” Croft asked, hoping the woman was the one, because they had evidence pointing that way. It would just make it easier in court.
“They did not. They named her Amelia.”
Emma stared at her husband, a million neurons firing all at once.
“But we don’t have an Amelia,” Briggs said, “So, I kept digging.”
Croft shook his head. “You can stop digging. We have an Amelia. You didn't meet her, since you were with Brynn but that’s Randall Mason’s administrative assistant’s name.”
“Oh,” he said, staring at them. “Do you want the rest?” he asked, waiting for their answer.
“Yes.” They both said at the same time.
“After the baby was put up for adoption, she went home and committed suicide. Bridgette Williams gave birth on January ninth, and died later that night.”
They were pretty sure the crazy gene ran in the family. Mom committed suicide and the daughter was committing homicide.
“The little girl was adopted by a nice couple with the last name of ‘Cross’.”
“Okay, so it’s plausible to say that at eighteen she goes to find her real mother and digs up the details of what happened. Yesterday, when we asked Randall Mason if he knew why Bridgette Williams left, he said no but it was a lie.”
“I agree. Maybe something that she dug up pointed her at her father, and she became obsessed enough to want revenge.”
Emma thought about it. “The seamstress told us that Dyer was just like his dad. Randall was sleeping around a lot too in his younger years.”
Croft glanced down at his watch, formulating a game plan in his mind.
“Babe, Amelia’s going to know we’re close. She gave us a tour of the place, and knows we’re on the cusp of figuring it all out.”
“Maybe she didn't hear our conversation.”
Shaking her head, Emma started pacing. “No, she told us the place had hidden corridors and passages. I’m betting she was listening. When we came out, she wasn’t there. She came around the corner. Crassmount has secrets and so does Amelia Cross.”
“If she heard us discussing the seamstress, she heard the part about her mother running out in tears. Hearing that will give her confirmation on her entire mission, plus it’ll make her angrier, and she’ll be out for blood.” She thought about it. “Wait, you said she left and ten months later she gave birth. So, she couldn’t have gone to Mason telling him he knocked her up. The timeline would be off a month or two until she found out she was pregnant.”
Croft saw where she was heading. “I don’t put it past Randall Mason to force himself on a woman,” he answered, more determined than ever to not let his wife be his prey. “Like father like son.”
“We wondered how she picked the women, but could we have been wrong? We assumed it had something to do with Doctor Maureen Russell. Maybe she didn't know they were all getting therapy. It could be coincidental. She’d see these girls all the time. It’s easy to spot an eating disorder, as is alcoholism and drugs. Plus, women talk. She could have overheard anything and set it up to look like Dyer.”
“The alcoholic would be easy too. She’d be the only one willingly jumping Dyer as a gold digger,” Croft added.
Emma shuddered. “That is a sickness.”
Briggs tossed in a thought. “If she was his administrative assistant, she’d see every personnel file that came across his desk. She’d know basically everything about them and could stalk them.”
Croft crossed his arms across his chest. “I don’t get one thing. Why was the first victim at a different location? I get the theater, because it was Mason’s empire, and the mother’s grave because she was showing us the symbolism between their dead moms, but why the aberration in places? Did she just change her mind for victim two and decide to go closer to home?”
His words played over and over. “Grey! That’s it!” Emma pointed at Briggs “I need to see Amelia Cross’s driver’s license!”
Briggs offered it up, handing her the tablet for her to examine it. “I don’t know what you’re looking for,” he admitted.
Emma pointed at her address. “She lived across from the crime scene. On that first day, Brynn did the canvas and there was a very large industrial building there. She told me it was made into luxury apartments. Some of the residents didn't come to their door, and the cops didn't re-canvass, because then Amelia switched up the scene the very next day with victim two. We’ve been so focused on the theater and the crypt that we never ran the homes around the killer’s first dump site.”
“But she’s an administrative assistant,” Briggs stated. “She can afford a luxury apartment? Maybe I’m in the wrong career.” Then again, he was standing in a luxury condominium, so maybe not.
Croft took over. “Yesterday, she told us the hours were long but the pay was good. Mason was supplying her with the money to live in the building.”
Emma snorted. “Here he had another one of his kids syphoning off him and never knew. It makes me glad we’re not at that phase yet.”
Briggs raised his hand and earned a smack from his boss.
“Everything points us towards Mason’s past of what he did with his seamstress.”
“He must not know,” stated Briggs. “With his money and connections, if he had a clue he would have figured all this out.”
“We need to get moving,” Croft said, racing towards the door. Instead of the elevator, they all charged down thirteen floors of stairs and into the lobby. There, they rushed past the guards, heading to the Denali.
Once inside, Emma started dialing. “We have to give him a warning. He said they had a meeting at ten this morning. We still have time to beat her there and wrap this up safely,” she said, dialing his personal number. When no one answered, she had Briggs start digging for a private number in the database.
“Here it is, Emma,” he read it off as she diale
d.
“Nothing,” she stated, knowing it wasn’t a good sign.
Croft remembered the key and card Mason gave her. “We’ll have to go in quietly. If she’s there and suspects anything, she’ll kill him.”
Emma knew her husband was right.
She only hoped they weren’t too late.
Pulling up to the bottom of the drive, they opted to run the hill up to the house. By sticking to the tree line, they would remain invisible to anyone in the mansion. As they approached the gate, Croft slid the key into the slot and the gate buzzed open.
“We better leave this here for reinforcements,” he stated, knowing if it was going bad, they’d need backup.
Emma and Curtis followed him up the hill. At the mouth of the driveway, they ducked behind a sports car.
“Curtis, they have a patio that leads into the back of the house. I want you to scale the perimeter, and go in that way. If you encounter trouble, text me but don’t access the scene.”
“Yes, boss,” he said. “I’ll call for backup,” he added, pulling his phone out and dialing with one hand while his gun pointed at the ground.
“We’re going in and you’re staying behind me!” he demanded.
Emma followed, knowing she would most likely be ignoring her husband. At the front door, he slid the key into the lock and slowly pushed it open. Before they could step into the house, there was a gunshot.
“Stay here,” he hissed.
She gave him a dirty look and followed right behind him as he headed towards the screaming that emanating from behind Mason’s office door. There was the clear anger in Amelia’s voice as she raged at the sobbing man.
For now, they’d wait. The ball was in her court, and they’d have to carefully measure their options of saving the man inside.
It didn't take long for the hysterics to continue.
“You raped my mother! I was the product of that horrible day!” Amelia screamed.
Emma glanced over at her husband, knowing he was plotting and planning.
“All the showgirls you employed knew. My mother called the police and no one did anything because they lied for you.”
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 51
