Dark Justice (Croft Family Mob Series Book 1) (45 page)

“More!” she begged, her fingers finding his shoulders. She loved watching him caught in the middle of the passion. His eyes were filled with love, and he was at peace.

So was she.

Curtis kept driving into her, and when Kat’s legs found their way back around his hips, and she met him stroke for stroke, he knew it wasn’t going to last long.

He was weak when it came to her.

“Oh, Kat,” he moaned, as her body tightened around his. The ride was coming to an end.

She wanted him to fill her. She wanted his body never to leave hers. “Come with me, Curtis,” she said, setting him off.

He exploded.

He couldn’t hold back.

Kat was his weakness. Her love was the only thing he couldn’t resist.

Curtis shouted her name as they both came in a blurring speed of colors and emotions.

He found himself resting over her body, breathing heavily as he fought to catch his breath.

“I love afternoon quickies,” she teased.

He laughed. “Katerina, you couldn’t possibly love them as much as I do.”

When he lifted his head, she took his face in the palms of her hands. “Thank you for being mine, Curtis. I’m very lucky.”

That overwhelmed him.

No one in his life had ever told him that.

It was the most precious gift she’d ever given him. Well, other than the child she was carrying.

“I’m the lucky one, Anfisa. Until the day I die.”

And it was true.

 
                          
* * *
  G r e y s o n   C r o f t   * * *

Across Town

This was the final interview.

Todd Robins was the one highest on her list of suspects. Why? It might have something to do with him hiring Glenda Mateo as his favorite hooker, or that he’d been stalking Norma Hatch, his neighbor across the street.

He had a lot of contact with the dead women, and that piqued the cop in her.

Plus she kept thinking about the wall of photographs that Curtis pointed out in the police report.

That screamed serial killer.

Add that into the long list of women whose murders went unsolved in Vegas that matched these killings, Emma had to believe Seth Bell wasn’t the man who’d done them.

It didn’t fit for her.

She really believed the person doing this was still doing it. A serial killer didn’t shut himself down for long. Maybe he moved or went under, but they never went away.

She’d bet their fortune on it.

Now it was about finding that person before they went back under. They needed to wrap this up.

“We’re here,” Greyson said, pulling into a parking spot in front of the apartment building. “Here’s his place and across the street is where Norma Hatch lived.”

She looked at the locations.

“This would be convenient and damn inconvenient all at the same time.”

He understood.

The killer, if he was taking his women to his home, would have a hard time carrying a body up the stairs.

Then again, if he was paying for hookers, he could hire one, bring them back here, and then kill them.

But how would he get them out?

Yeah, this was posing a whole slew of other questions.

Hopping out of their Navigator, Emma and Greyson crossed to the building and rang the bell. It was secure, and they needed someone to let them in.

It didn’t take long before a buzz sounded.

Well, so much for not letting just anyone into their building. Someone was feeling helpful.

As they climbed the stairs to the third floor, the place was nothing like the one they’d just been in to interview Trent Webb.

If Todd Robins was killing women, he was doing it in a much nicer neighborhood.

At the door, Greyson knocked.

When it opened, the man looked surprised.

Yeah, they got that a lot.

“Wow! This was not what I was expecting,” he stated. “What did I do to get this visit?”

Apparently, he knew them.

Emma still did the introductions. “Are you Todd Robins?” she asked.

“Yeah, what can I do for you?”

“We need to ask you some questions about Seth Bell.” Immediately, his face showed recognition.

“He’s scheduled to die, isn’t he? It was in the paper yesterday. He’s got like a week left.”

Yeah, they were aware.

“Can we talk about it with you?”

He shrugged. “Okay. I guess that’s fine. You’re not cops, but I’ll try and help.”

She was grateful for that.

Inside, they found more books than any one person should own. They were stacked everywhere.

The man was a serial reader.

Greyson noticed most of them were books on Vegas, prostitution, and true crimes.

Interesting.

“What can I do for you?”

Emma took a seat on the large overstuffed couch. Greyson stayed standing not far from her—just in case.

“Your name came up in our investigation.”

He stopped her. “Again, you’re not a cop, so why are you investigating?”

“We’re making sure that the state of Nevada isn’t going to execute an innocent man.”

He simply stared at her.

“We have a police report,” she began. When the recognition dawned, she knew he was going to try to evade. She’d done this plenty of times.

“Before you try and lie your way out of it, let’s go with the facts. You called Glenda Mateo multiple times for dates.”

“Who?”

Greyson helped her out. “Spicy Caliente.”

“Oh, yeah, her. I did.”

“Why?”

“She was a hooker. I was working on a project, and I needed some insight.”

“Did you have sex with her?”

“Yeah, a lot. It was research.”

She lifted a brow. “Was it now?”

“Yeah, I had to pay her for her time, and meanwhile, she’d give me information. Only, she got weird toward the end. It all started when I told her I’d help her get away from her pimp if she wanted out.”

Emma listened.

“She told me to stop purchasing her services, and I did. Then the next thing I know, her face is on the news and she’d dead.”

Emma thought about that. Could she have told her pimp that he was bothering her so she could avoid the man? Looking at him, he wasn’t exactly scary. He was more…a nerd.

“You told the police you were working on a photo project.”

“I was, but it’s expanded since then. I decided to do more of a true life story of my journey through the seedy underbelly of Vegas.”

“By way of hookers and stalking?” she asked.

“If you’re talking about Norma, that’s an honest mistake. She thought I was following her.”

“Weren’t you?”

He hesitated. “Yes, I guess I was but it wasn’t for nefarious reasons. Again, Spicy…I mean Glenda, she bailed on the project. She knew I was working on the book.”

Greyson watched the man for any sign he was lying. Sadly, he believed he was working on a book.

“Didn’t you have a room full of women’s pictures on your wall?”

“I still do.”

“You realize that makes you look like a killer, right?”

He laughed. “I didn’t kill anyone. I had sex with Spicy Caliente, I got to know her, and I offered to help her get out. Her pimp is an asshole. She didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“Did you ever hit her?”

“Hell no! I don’t strike women. Do I look like someone who can defend himself against a barrage of fists?” he asked.

Emma could take him.

A hooker?

Yeah, they had mean street fighting skills. He might have a very valid point.

“When I heard Spicy died…I mean Glenda, I had to keep moving on my project, and I went out looking for my new muse. I was checking out the ladies, and I picked Norma.”

They stared at him.

“I wanted it to be Norma, but she wasn’t interested. Instead, she called the cops.”

“Yeah, and they called it stalking.”

“That cop who came called it that. Norma would have enjoyed my attention. This book is going to break open the dirty Vegas secrets. The tourist industry has created this whole subculture of women who will do anything to survive. It’s like
‘Lord of the Flies’
meets
‘Valley of the Dolls’
. It’s a tragedy and amazing story.”

Emma had read the first book, and seen the movie, and she didn’t think Vegas was anything more than one hell of a hot mess. This man was out of his mind.

“So I was trying to record everything that Norma did, but that cop put a stop to it. I was told to leave her alone.”

“So what did you do?”

“I left her alone. If Norma didn’t want me paying for her time, asking her questions, and working with me, I would find someone new.”

Emma began rattling off the other dead women’s names. He didn’t even flinch at any of them.

“Nothing?”

He shook his head.

Todd wasn’t giving anything away.

“Can we see the book?” she asked. Emma wanted to cover her bases.
              “Yeah, no. This book is my life’s work. I’m not letting it out of my sight. Since you’re not cops, I don’t have to let you have it. Frankly, I don’t trust normal people, and I know what they say about you two. I think I’ll pass.”

Emma knew her one shot was going out the window.

Greyson knew how to get the man to help. He could see Emma floundering on this one. They didn’t have leverage.

That’s what they needed.

“I bet you run out of money when working on a project like this.”

“Sometimes.”

“What if I were to pay you to see it?”

He hesitated.

“No pictures of it. We just want to flip through and see the women. We are trying to save Seth Bell’s life.”

He thought about it.

“How much?”

“One hundred.”

“No pictures?”

Emma shook her head. “I promise. My phone will stay in my pocket. I won’t even touch it. You can show me the pictures.”

“It’s really a work of art.”

Emma didn’t doubt it—if by art he meant creepy, stalkerish nightmare brought to life.

He stood. “I’ll get it. Be prepared to be dazzled.”

She hoped it led to something that would help them. When he came back with a large binder of haphazardly taped pictures that someone had snapped from a car, a window, and other places, she knew the truth.

Todd Robins was insane.

Literally.

The cops had dropped the ball on this one—that was for sure.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Club Aquarius

Monday Afternoon

After an hour of flipping through that crazy-ass jumble of a book, Emma had both a headache and sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. While she really thought Todd Robbins was crackers, the more time she spent with him, the less he felt like a killer. That was where the sick feeling came in.

They were back at the beginning for this one. Their most obvious choice had nothing to do with it.

Well, shit.

It didn’t fit.

There was something simplistic about him. She didn’t believe he could kill all those women, dump the bodies in a fountain, and frame a cop.

He didn’t have it in him.

Really.

He was just one more crazy in a town of lunatics.

As they headed toward
‘Aquarius’
, she really needed a drink and to decompress. Hopefully, Dimitri had better luck with Tucker and Miranda Bell. In less than a week, Seth was going to be put to death.

Time was definitely ticking away, and they had nothing to show for it.

When they got there, Dimitri was having a drink and waiting for them. Instead of Marissa, his hostess and guard dog, leading them back, she simply pointed.

That was new.

Apparently, they’d been given carte blanche to the place.

Not that they minded.

The remake on a gentleman’s club felt familiar and homey. It called to both Emma and Greyson. She loved watching her husband there, and it gave them a safe place to meet outside their home.

When they entered the man’s private room in the back, he was waiting for them. Dimitri was leaning back against the richly upholstered leather booth, eyes closed, face relaxed, and lost in thought.

His black hair was loose, and not bound at the back of his neck. This was new for them. He was rarely caught off guard. When they approached, his eyes popped open, the startling aqua focusing on them.

“Were you just napping?” Emma asked, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He laughed. “Yes. I don’t sleep well at night, so I take naps here and there. You found me out.”

Greyson slid into the booth. He was aware the man didn’t rest at night. He had seen him prowling, and he knew, as an ex-soldier, too, he had been like that for a while.

“Get a woman. You’ll sleep better,” Greyson stated.

Dimitri found that amusing. “We both know that will never happen.”

As if timed, Marissa entered, carrying a tray with all of their food.

“Sir, are you ready?”

He glanced over at the raven-haired woman. Her baby blue eyes watched him, waiting for his reply.

“Yes, Marissa, thank you.”

She served them.

When she was gone, Emma admired the salad topped with steak. It was huge.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I’ll help you,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Oh, she didn’t doubt that.

Greyson never had any problem stealing her food.

Both men began eating their burgers.

“I figured you wouldn’t want one,” he stated, knowing he’d never seen Emma eat one in the entire time he’d known her. For barbeques, she had veggie burgers, and his place didn’t make those.

Men came here.

Why ruin his reputation?

“I don’t, so thank you.”

Greyson kissed her on the temple.

“You still need protein. I researched it,” Dimitri offered. “Women who are trying to become pregnant, or who are pregnant, need an increase in folic acid and protein.”

That made her smile. “You’re sweet, Dimitri. Thank you.”

He looked appalled at that. “Really, there’s no reason to be insulting.”

She snorted.

Even Greyson was amused.

They continued eating. It was a quiet affair. Honestly, they noticed that Dimitri didn’t like to talk work while eating. They’d discuss things about the house, but the cases—the jobs they took on—he didn’t bring them up.

Maybe he was trying to keep it from upsetting them. They really didn’t have much to show for the case. It was damn hard to find this killer, and they all had their doubts.

When they’d finished eating, a busboy came in and cleared the table.

“Please have Marissa come in if you don’t mind, and on your way out, close the door.”

The younger kid hurried out.

“That’s Joshua. He tried to pick my pocket about a month ago. I offered him a job and a chance. He’s been doing well.”

Greyson recalled. They’d been walking down the street. The boy ran into them, and then tried to take off.

Only, he’d been caught.

“Again, that’s sweet.”

He scowled at her. “You’re pushing it, Emma.”

She winked at him. “Yeah, I know. You’re some badass mercenary. Blah blah.”

He tried not to laugh.

“It’s hard to be intimidated when this whole bar is filled with people you’ve saved, Dimitri. You’re a good man, and that’s sexy.”

“Hey!” Greyson said, as Marissa came in carrying a tray with drinks.

Apparently, she’d anticipated what he’d want.

“Thank you, Marissa.”

“I’ll have your cigars, sir, in a minute. I’ll be right back. Mrs. Croft,” she said, placing the red wine in front of her. “Is this okay? I can get you something different.”

Emma had noticed one important thing about
‘Aquarius’
. Dimitri was extremely proud of it. This brick and mortar structure was an extension of him. It was old wood, sturdy beams, and tenacity. It spoke a lot about the man.

As did his employees.

They were as efficient as he was.

“It’s perfect, Marissa. Thank you so much. I was hoping I could relax with some wine. You’re a mind reader.”

She smiled and placed it on a napkin in front of the woman. It was precise, careful, and done with practice.

Then she was gone.

Greyson sipped his bourbon as they waited for their cigars. It was time to get down to business. “How was the meeting with Miranda Bell?”

He shrugged. “Her other brother, Tucker, is a mess. He stormed out of here, pissed that I could even insinuate that a criminal had anything to do with his brother’s incarceration.”

“What did your gut say?” she asked.

“That he’s hiding something, but likely not the killer. I don’t think he has it in him. He’s too young, too angry, and too scared. He’s a kid. He’s not a cold hearted killer.”

They could take another person off their list. If a hired killer didn’t think the man was capable, chances were, he wasn’t. Dimitri had excellent honed instincts.

The Crofts trusted that.

“The only people on your suspect list were the two partners. Miranda said that they hung out together for meals, and gatherings. I guess partners do that.”

Emma knew they did.

She’d bonded with all of her partners over the years.

“She also said that Seth’s boyfriend, Adam, and his current partner, Jesse, didn’t get along. They hated each other.”

That made her pause.

“Wait.”

“What?” Greyson asked.

“When we interviewed Jesse, he told us he didn’t know the man’s partner.”

Greyson had to think back.

He did say that.

“And Miranda said they knew each other?”

“Yeah, they did.”

“Why would Jesse say they didn’t know each other?” Emma asked.

That piqued all kinds of suspicion.

When someone lied, there was always a reason. Jesse Post hadn’t been truthful. Was there a reason?

Had he simply misspoke?

They’d have to think this one through and run him again. They whole list of suspects was going to have to be double-checked.

Something had to be there.

As they heard Marissa heading their way, Dimitri held up the conversation. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his employee. He absolutely did. Honestly, he simply liked to keep his work private.

Marissa patiently held out the humidor for the men.

Greyson chose his cigar. It was his usual, a Cuban, that he favored above the rest.

“Would you like me to cut that for you, sir?” Marissa offered. She knew the answer, but still…Dimitri liked his staff to be incredibly polite to the regulars. He’d made it clear that Emma and Greyson Croft were to be treated like royalty, since they were his family.

He’d claimed them as his blood.

“Thank you, Marissa, but my wife will handle it. I appreciate the offer.”

She nodded, and then handed Emma the implements to get the job done.

Emma efficiently cut the cigar and then flicked on the silver-monogramed lighter that Dimitri often had on the table. Greyson puffed and then blew out a stream of smoke.

He knew this was coming to an end.

Once Emma was pregnant, he’d have to put them away for a later time. Then again, it was worth it.

For a baby, he’d do anything.

Dimitri went next.

He chose his favorite cigar from Nicaragua. As he went to reach for the cutter, Marissa beat him to it.

“I’ll do it for you, sir.”

He watched as she effortlessly cut his cigar, handed it back, and then flicked open his lighter. The entire time, he watched her. Marissa was a beautiful woman, and one of the few people who worked for him that he hadn’t helped. She’d come in looking for a job, and he hired her on the spot.

Why?

She was respectful.

She was orderly.

She was…gorgeous.

She fit into
‘Aquarius’
rather well.

“Thank you,” he said, when he was lit.

Marissa headed out, her heels quietly clicking across the wood floor.

Dimitri focused back on work and not the woman who’d just left.

“What about your interviews?”

Emma started laughing as she thought about the last one.

“Oh, my best suspect fell through. He was a box full of nuts.” She told him about the book. “He called it his photojournalism book, but it was like a madman took at a bunch of pictures and didn’t have a clue.”

Dimitri listened.

“He’d cut out their heads, placed them on different bodies, and it looked like something a crazed preschooler would do. To him, it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.”

“To you?”

“Cuckoo.”

Greyson agreed. “We need to have Curtis run a little deeper on him. He’s got to have some mental issues. I can’t believe the cops didn’t look at him and try to get him help.”

Emma snorted. “Do you know how many crazy people are here in Vegas?” she asked. “I ran into about five people just like Todd Robins each and every day on the street. This town is like the catchall for nuts.”

He had to agree.

That’s why Vegas needed them.

“Is he crazy enough to hurt women?” Dimitri asked, blowing a blue gray puff of smoke away from Emma’s direction.

“I don’t think he could pull it off,” Emma stated.

Greyson agreed.

“He didn’t seem violent. If anything, he was hiring hookers, creeped Glenda out, and that’s why she told her pimp he was weird. He thinks he’s normal but he’s clearly not. Is he unstable? Not completely. His place was pretty organized, and he wasn’t acting too bizarre.”

Emma had to agree. “He’s likely got some mental issues, but he’s highly functioning.”

“And then we have one less suspect,” Dimitri stated.

“And that’s our biggest issue,” Emma pointed out. “We’re clearing everyone, but our client.”

They were aware.

The men finished their cigars.

“Where do we go from here?” Dimitri asked. “We seem to have come to the end of our list.”

“We have one more person,” Emma offered. “Bryan Calhoun, the owner of a little store near Trent Webb’s place. He said that guy hated the hookers and the cops when they wouldn’t arrest them.”

They told him about the business location, and the man’s issue with the methadone clinic and strolling hookers.

“Let’s hope it pans out,” Dimitri offered.

“Tomorrow, we’ll chase that lead.”

“We’ll have to have the team sit down, go back over everything, and see what they find. We’ll start all over again, if need be,” Emma stated.

Dimitri whistled. “We don’t have much time.”

Oh, she would disagree. They had plenty of time. It was Seth Bell who was running out of life.

“All the cases I worked were so much easier,” he stated. “I simply handled the people who were the obstacle.”