Croft looked at his wife. “That would be the eyes, ears and mouth thing and why she killed the women,” he whispered, confirming the woman’s trail of clues.
“She’s unhinged by anger and sheer craziness,” Emma murmured back.
“You created me!” Amelia screamed in fury. “I found my biological grandmother, and she told me everything! My mother killed herself and left a note.”
Randall Mason tried to rationalize with her. “Let me just check on my son. I’ll admit to anything you say, but let me save Dyer. He’s your brother.”
She raged more, “Yeah, and do you know how many times I’ve had to remove his hands from my body? You’re a monster and you raised monsters. Look around, Dad! Don’t you see how tainted your blood is? You’re a rapist and raised one to be just like you! Our DNA sucks!”
Emma motioned to her husband. “I have to go in. You’re a man, and she’s not feeling that man vibe right now. I can relate to her more and hopefully sympathize.”
He shook his head wildly. “No! Stay right there. I don’t care if she offs him. I’m not risking you for Randall and Dyer Mason!”
She stood and moved towards the doorknob. “Grey, you know you don’t mean that. You’re an honorable man and this is what we do. It’s time to protect and serve,” she paused, blowing him a kiss. “I love you,” she whispered, before pulling her gun and going in. Silently, the door swung open, and at the last minute, Amelia turned to face her.
“Well, isn’t this quaint? It’s the woman Randall Mason wishes he had as his daughter. Isn’t that right, Dad?” She pointed the gun at him.
He stared over at Emma helplessly. “She shot Dyer and I think she killed him.”
Emma moved closer, trying to place herself in front of the man in the chair. “Amelia, let’s talk this out.”
She screamed more as she waved the gun wildly. “Put it down, Detective Croft, or I’ll blow his head off.”
She lowered the gun to the floor. “Okay, but you have to let me check on Dyer,” Emma said.
“Fine. Go ahead and check on that piece of shit.”
Moving towards his body, she moved around the blood. Emma didn't want to touch any of it. Not after finding out he was possibly sick. Feeling for a pulse in his throat, she knew the second she stared into the vacant eyes. “He’s gone.”
The woman had taken him out with one shot to the chest.
Amelia laughed sickly. “Good! How does it feel to have your family taken away from you, Dad?” she snarled. “I’ve had to watch your son abuse and force women into horrible situations for the last year, and this is how he deserved to die.”
Emma was moving closer to the man in the chair. “Amelia, put down the gun. You’ve taken enough lives.”
“Shut up!” she raged. “You’re part of the problem! He’s obsessed with you because you look like his dead wife. Look!” she pointed at a painting on the wall.
Emma did indeed resembled Aria Mason. “I’m not her, Amelia.”
“You’re the daughter he always wanted. Don’t you see? He had Dyer by accident too. He knocked up one of his showgirls and that piece of trash was the result. What he wanted was a child from his beloved wife. He wants you to be his surrogate child because you’re perfect, unlike us!”
Croft was leaning against the door to listen as his phone buzzed. Briggs was in place outside the door and had a visual on Emma.
“You're his obsession, and he’ll destroy you too! I’m going to kill him, and then myself. The world will be free of the vile DNA.”
She lifted her gun again and pointed it at the man’s head. There were sirens in the distance. “It’s perfect timing for me to take care of business. Goodbye, Dad! At least I can die knowing I avenged my mother. You get to die carrying this burden!”
Emma saw her finger move towards the trigger. She was close enough to Randall Mason that she could save his life.
Moving at just the right second, she threw herself in front of the older man to stop the bulled that was careening for his head. It clipped her in the lower section of her vest before taking her to the floor.
Emma prayed it was enough as the pain overcame her.
Croft hit the door at the sound of the shot, and he was in time to watch Emma fall. At the same moment, Amelia put the gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger.
As if they timed it, Briggs crashed through the patio door with his sidearm drawn. They both had one goal, and it was to get to Emma.
The sound and explosion of the woman eating her gun was vile and unforgettable. As was the wail of Greyson calling for his wife as he raced across the room.
Emma lay on the floor on her side, not moving.
“Honey,” he pleaded, pulling her into his lap as he touched her pulse. When her eyes fluttered open, he could see the pain flutter across her features.
“I kept my promise. I wore the body armor,” she muttered, as he began tearing at her clothes. Ripping her shirt open, he found the vest with one round less than two inches from the bottom.
God, she’d come close.
He held her in his arms as he ran his hand under the Kevlar, almost expecting to encounter wetness. When he didn't, there was absolute relief.
Randall Mason sat there in shock. His son lay dead on the floor. The daughter he’d only found out about an hour before was also gone. The painting of his beloved first wife sat covered in brains and gore.
How was he supposed to move on from this?
Greyson Croft was glad he still had his wife. When they got home, there was going to be hell to pay that she’d risk herself for Randall Mason.
Staring down at Emma, the older man shook his head. “You saved me again and risked your life, why?”
She sat up in her husband’s arms. “It’s my job.”
Sadly, he shook his head. “You should have let me die. I can’t go on from here,” he whispered. “I have no one left.”
Emma felt bad for the man. His past had created this mess, but everyone deserved a chance at redemption. “It’s all going to be okay, Randall,” she said, patting him on the knee.
He stared over at her with hollow blue eyes. She’d used his name and in that moment, he knew…
This was a sign from his beloved Aria.
Emma Croft would make it all okay.
* * *
Three hours later
Emma sat at her desk doing the last of the reports. Once this was filed, this case was closed and done. Back at the Mason mansion, the crime scene team and the FBI were having a field day. Randall Mason and Emma had been transported to the hospital just to be checked out and released immediately.
Now, she had to wrap it up and get the heck home. She had a date night planned with a sexy FBI director. It was going to have everything related to life and nothing related to death.
“Good work on this one,” stated Ford, standing beside her desk. “The commissioner called and apparently, Randall Mason swears you’re the only reason he’s alive.”
“I guess,” she replied, handing him the report she printed out. “He’s an odd man,” she answered honestly.
“Yeah, the rich are,” Ford retorted. “Anyway, you’re being called an asset and that makes me look good. When I look good, I smile a lot more.”
Emma snickered and paused as she knew he was near. Glancing over she found him leaning against the wall. Her heart skipped when she saw the sexiest man in the world watching her. Just less than a week earlier, he’d stood in the same exact spot.
“I need some down time,” she muttered as she pulled her gun from her desk and clipped it to her hip.
“You can have until tomorrow at eight in the morning, Detective,” he said, not sure if she heard him or not.
Emma was solely focused on her husband. As she approached him, he opened his arms and she went into them, burying her face in his shoulder.
“I missed you, honey,” he whispered, finally able to talk. The last three hours apart were torture. The entire time he kept thinkin
g she was going to be hurt again.
“I missed you too, Grey,” she replied as she kissed him gently.
When he pulled away, he touched her torso. “Are you sore?” he asked, worried about her.
“If I say yes, will you take me home and take care of me?” she purred, patting him on the ass.
Croft laughed. “Yes, but that butt grab of yours kind of gave you away. Wounded individuals don’t fondle their spouses.”
“Damn,” she giggled. “Oh, I’m off until tomorrow.”
He lifted a brow. “What a coincidence. So am I.”
“Want to go home and play some sexy swimming pool games?” she inquired as he led her to the door.
“Can you wear that bikini again?” His heart was already pounding as he thought about it. “Since we’ll be alone and there won’t be any men in the vicinity.”
“You mean the one you forbade me to wear because it was completely indecent?”
He nodded. “That’s the one.”
“I actually have one that’s worse.”
Now his mouth had gone dry. “Is that possible?”
She laughed, because anything was possible in Vegas.
Outside the building, they were met with more cameras and flashing lights. It looked like the media got wind of the whole situation.
“Detective Croft! Director Croft!” came the shouts and yells as they tried to get either of their attention to answer questions.
Emma ignored them, going up on her toes to kiss her husband. Why not give them something to print in the paper worth reading? Besides, they now had a book to fill, since he’d started collecting their headlines. This was one memory she never wanted to forget.
The kiss must have caught him off guard, and he began to laugh when she pulled away.
“Let’s go home, babe,” she said, as he dropped his arm around her shoulders protectively.
“Absolutely, honey. I have my own headlines to make.”
The paper the next morning would say it all. It told the twisted tale of the killer, the hero, and heroine.
It told of loss and death.
Of the insanity and the need for revenge.
And there was the skewed perverseness of a man’s poor choices.
But the closing line of the news article spoke of what was yet to come in Las Vegas, because their reign had only just begun.
It said it all.
Long Live the King and Queen….
~ Epilogue ~
Three Days Later
Curtis Briggs drove her home to her apartment after she’d been released from the hospital. It would be nice to see her and spend time with her away from there.
Excitement filled him as she sat beside him smiling out the side window. It was obvious that she was also happy to be free.
Today, began a new day and adventure for both of them too. It was long awaited and eagerly anticipated.
Now, he was about to get his hands on the girl.
Brynn glanced over at him. “Thank you for leaving work to come get me,” she said grinning. “I can’t wait to get home.”
“I bet,” he answered. “Hospitals are germ infected breeding grounds. We’re both lucky we didn't need penicillin.”
Her laughter filled the interior of the Denali. “Do you have to go back to work?”
Briggs shook his head. “No, the boss man was feeling sorry for me. He’s buried in meetings and paperwork and can’t get any fieldwork in this week. So, he’s sent me off to be your escort.”
That made her grin.
“Want to stay?” she asked hopefully.
Oh, hell yeah, he did. This was the longest non-one night stand he’d ever had to endure. “I’d love that. I’ll get you situated and keep you company.” In the back of his head he was picturing entirely different things, but he was trying to be a gentleman, like Croft would be.
“No, Curtis, I mean stay.”
He looked over at her as they sat at the stop light.
“Move back in with me.”
The pounding in his chest had to be obvious. “Is that what you really want, Brynn?” He didn't want to rush her, since she was still recovering.
Leaning over, and with her good arm, she grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pulled his mouth to hers. Their lips met and the kiss exploded around them. She showed him exactly how she was feeling inside. Here sat a really good guy, who took care of her while she was hurt and trapped in the hospital.
Yeah, she was absolutely sure.
Briggs fell into the kiss, placing his hand against the back of her head and controlling it. He was feeling wild and completely out of control when it came to her.
At the honking of horns, they pulled away.
“Brynn,” he started.
She stared up into his eyes. “Take us home, Curtis,” she whispered.
If anything he’d learned from the best, and if Croft were here, he’s give him one piece of advice.
‘Give the lady anything she wants.’
Today, he was going to channel his inner caveman.
* * *
One week later
Something needed to be done about the Croft duo. They were becoming an issue. There was serious doubt that he could be bribed to their side. The usual things that lured men in didn't seem to affect him.
The women.
The booze.
The money.
If they wanted him in their pocket, it would take something so big that he couldn’t stand against it.
It would take hitting Director Greyson Croft right in the chink in his armor.
They’d have to focus on his beloved wife.
After researching them and their whirlwind courtship, there was no doubt that they were really in love. At first, it appeared to be a marriage of convenience, but now, they saw the miscalculation. The FBI Director was loving, doting, and protective of Emma Croft, and that was how they’d take him down.
If you cut out the heart of the lion, he’d fall prey to death.
The little redheaded detective apparently was his all.
It was a shame.
If they both would only conform and realize that in Vegas, there were completely different rules, then none of this would have to happen.
Maybe if they rocked the boat a little, the man would get the hint.
They knew that killing Emma Croft would be extreme, but they weren’t above scaring and terrorizing her.
All it would take was the perfect opportunity to unfold and they would make their move.
The plan was perfect and soon it would be put into play.
Director Croft would see the error of his way.
He’d come crawling, if they could just take away the one vestige of his sanity. If he lost his precious redhead, he’d certainly break.
It was all about showing him that there were a new set of rules in Vegas, and he either conformed or drastic things would happen.
Someone would die, but it wouldn’t be the director. That would be too easy.
They had a better target.
It was time handle Emma Croft.
Meanwhile….
Naughty or nice?
Which would it be? He stared down at the two women restrained side by side who waited for his attention.
They were an early Christmas present to himself and soon the FBI. There was laughter as he pictured the red ribbon and cards he would leave, calling them out.
He didn't want the cops.
NO!
He wanted the best of the best to play his little game. If they couldn’t catch him, he’d be the winner for his season.
But no worries, he’d be back. Like jolly Old Saint Nick, he’d return again and again, until they figured it out.
Why?
Because he had so much to prove to the world, and this was how he chose to do it.
It was his legacy.
Staring down at the squirming women, he knelt between them. “Have you been a good girl this year?” he asked, listening to th
e muffled screams behind the tape covered mouth.
“Yes? Oh, then you get to be ‘Nice’.”
He stood, stripping away his clothes in preparation. “Then, I believe that makes you ‘Naughty’,” he added, pointing the sharp knife at the other bound woman.
She fought as the chains began to choke the life from her body.
“Tsk Tsk. Why can’t you be more like ‘Nice’?” he asked, straddling her body.
The first woman’s eyes filled with tears as she prayed help would arrive and find them.
“Shall we begin?”
Wrapping his hands around her throat, he stole his gift. Her life was snuffed out.
It was almost too easy, and he enjoyed every second of it.
There was nothing but pure pleasure as he watched her face go peaceful as death claimed her. “Such a good girl,” he crooned.
Facing ‘Naughty’, he knew that what was coming would be much more fun. “I have plans for you,” he laughed, striking her across the face.
“I hope you enjoy this as much as I do,” he hissed in her ear as he began.
After all was said and done, they’d remember him because,
when it came down to it, murder was perfect as Christmas is Killing…
Dear reader,
Thank you for reading the second book in my Croft & Croft Romance Adventure series. I’m just wrapping up the next book due out in November, and wanted to answer big question that was posed to me earlier today.
Is this going to be a straight romance? If you’ve read my other books, The FBI/Romance series with Elizabeth, Ethan and Callen, then you know that I took that one in a different direction by offering up a threesome with the main characters. Some people have contacted me and nervously asked if I planned to take this one that way too.
Vegas is Dying (A Croft & Croft Romance Adventure Book 2) Page 52
