Assassins the Florist Book One Part One

by Haley Langwood

  Marc was in his room, checking his phone when there was a soft knock on the door. “Come in,’ he said while he put his phone away. Marc was surprised to see his father enter his room. “Hello, father. What can I do for you?” Marc asked in a calm tone. For a few minutes, Marcus Blake looked at his eldest son; he didn’t say anything. Marc knew his father’s tactic, it hadn’t impressed him when he was younger, and it certainly didn’t now.

  “What did you discuss with your mother?” Marcus Blake asked in a cold tone. Marc frowned and took his time to answer. Finally, he said, in an equally cold tone, “What’s it to you? Mom just wanted to see me before she died.” Marc could tell that his father didn’t believe him, but he didn’t care because that wasn’t his problem.

  “Anyway, as you know, the funeral is tomorrow morning. If it were up to me, I would have kicked you out right now. As it is, you must be present when the will is read. Marc nodded. “I will be at the funeral, and I stay until tomorrow afternoon; after that, I’ll be out of your life,” he stated. Marcus Senior turned and left without saying anything. Marc had seen the disgust in the man’s eyes, but he didn’t care.

  Marc had overheard his father talking to his sister, Marc’s Aunt Eugenie, that he even doubted if Marc was his biological son. Eugenie had laughed and told her brother that Marc was his spitting image. That even a blind man could see that they were father and son. To Marc’s astonishment, Aunt Eugenie had said that Marcus should man up and accept Marc, gay and all. As expected, Marcus told his sister to mind her own business in his typical sharp tone. Eugenie had shaken her head but hadn’t replied because she knew her brother too well.

  The funeral was a spectacle, with Marcus Senior playing the grieving widow and Marc’s siblings, Celia, Shauna, Erica, Rodney, and Byron, playing the grieving children who supported their father in this time of need. Marc felt sick at seeing the performance of his family. He suspected that Blake Senior had never loved his wife; it had been a marriage of convenience, as they called it. Joyce Richmond Blake came from a wealthy and influential family, and by marrying Marcus Blake, both families merged. Before the marriage or merger, both families were powerful in their own right. However, after Marcus Blake married Joyce, both families’ power had increased tremendously.

  The Blake family wasn’t a tight-knit family; Marcus Blake had made sure of that. He had always made everything a competition between his children. So, it wasn’t that strange that his sisters and brothers still competed with each other, that they wanted to exceed in everything they did. No matter the cost, one always wanted to outsmart the other; it was stupid, plain, and simple. No one should treat their children like that.

  Marc sat in the corner of the room and observed the so-called friends of the family. He didn’t look up when someone sat down in the chair next to him; he knew that it was Byron, his youngest brother. Byron was, as they say, an accident. Marcus and Joyce lived separate lives after the birth of Rodney. Then, one evening when they returned from a charity event, both drunk, they had sex, and thus nine months later, Byron was born.

  Marcus Blake had distanced himself from his youngest son from day one. Joyce, on the other hand, had pampered Byron. Marc still was stunned to see the lack of emotion from his youngest brother. Byron was talking to a girl that Marc didn’t know. He didn’t seem depressed or even sad, which wasn’t what Marc had expected.

  “Yes, father got a hold on him too,” Celia softly remarked as they both watched Byron flirt with a girl. Marc shook his head; even as a hitman, he knew to show respect at his mother’s funeral. Marc sighed; this was wrong on so many levels. Byron, sweet Byron had turned into a heartless person? “I see your stunned look. If you had stayed in contact, then you would know that our sweet Byron turned into a ruthless bastard. He doesn’t even mourn mother, even though he was the apple of her eye,” Celia commented as she sipped her cognac.

  Marc didn’t reply because what could he say? He hadn’t stayed in contact with his family, and why should he have? Marc was the only child who hadn’t let his father get to him. Blake Senior had tried on every occasion but failed every time. Blake Senior couldn’t get his oldest son under control like he could the rest of his children; it was why he didn’t like Marc. Now, he finally had gotten his hold on Byron, and it showed because the Benjamin of the family was flirting and laughing still with the same girl.

  Marc had never interfered in family matters, but right now, he was close to putting some decency into Byron. However, Marc knew that he had no right to play the big brother and set Byron straight. “I don’t recognize him anymore.” And Marc really didn’t; Byron was only twenty years old, but what an asshole he had become. Marc was glad that in a few hours, he would go home.

  Marc thought about the last words his mother had spoken. She had tried to warn him, but for what, or whom? It’s murder, she had said, but who would want to kill Joyce? It just didn’t make any sense. The more Marc thought about it, the more confused he got. “So,” Marc said as he turned to face his sister, “Are you moving out, now that mother is gone?”

  Celia seemed to be caught off guard by his question. She looked thoughtful but then said, “Yes, I already found a nice apartment in the city.” Marc nodded; he understood because Marc knew that Celia loathed their father, as did Marc.

  Suddenly Celia’s demeanor changed. Marc glanced in the direction that his sister was glaring. “That bitch,” Celia said as she rose from the chair and stalked toward a woman. Marc followed her and stayed at Celia’s side if he needed to hold her back. He knew that Celia was famous for her temper.

  The woman paled when she saw Celia coming her way, she said something, and Marcus Blake rushed to her side. “Don’t you feel ashamed of yourself to attend my mother’s funeral? Isn’t it enough that she’s dead, and you will become the mistress of the manor?” Celia’s voice was rising with every word she spoke.

  “Celia, show some respect toward Ms. McCallum,” Marcus Blake said in a calm but menacing tone. Marc frowned, and he looked grim because he put two and two together; this woman was his mistress, damn. Marc turned to his father. “Take that woman out here, now!” he demanded. For a moment, Marcus looked stunned, but before he could react, the woman did. “Marcus, dear, who is this?” she asked in a snobbish tone.

  “That, my dear is Marcus Junior, my eldest son,” Marcus Senior said in a conversational tone, but Marc knew that the man was furious, good. Marc was in his work mode now, which meant that he was focussed entirely on his father, and it seemed that the man in question felt it, too. “Come with me, Gloria,” he said while he took Gloria by her arm and guided her out of the room.

  Celia looked at Marcus, and he could still see the outrage in her eyes. “Care to fill me in about this little disaster?” Marc urged. Even though he didn’t spend time with his family, his instinct told him that something didn’t add up. His mother had said, it’s murder, I’m not sick.

  Celia glanced at her brother. “What the hell, Celia? Talk,” Marc demanded, and Celia did.

  Chapter Five

  There was a soft knocking on the door. “Come in,” Marc said. He had expected Celia, but Byron entered the room instead. “Surprise, surprise,” Byron chuckled nervously. “What do you want?” Marc asked in a cold tone because this wasn’t the sweet Byron anymore; this was a ruthless, coldhearted person that stood in front of him. “I just want to know why you’re here. What is it that you want? Do you want mother’s money? Tell me, greedy bastard,” Byron snared, but he still sounded nervous.

  “Change your tone, Byron,” Marc said in a dangerously low voice. Byron blinked a few times as if he needed to collect himself. It looked like he was stunned by Marc’s calm demeanor. Suddenly Byron sagged down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. Now it was Marc’s turn to be stunned.

  Byron mumbled something, which Marc couldn’t decipher. “Can you lift your head because I can’t understand you,” Marc softly said. He didn’t know why it shocked him to see the tear-streaked face of his you
ngest brother, but it did. He knelt in front of Byron and took his hands in his. “What’s going on with you, Byron? Why did you behave like an asshole, flirting with that woman at mother’s funeral? What were you thinking?” Marc had spoken in a soft voice, but the tone was firm, never-te-less.

  Marc couldn’t condone this disrespectful behavior of Byron. “I can’t do this anymore, Marc. It’s destroying me; I just can’t do it anymore.” Byron was sobbing uncontrollably. Marc didn’t know what to think of the sudden change in his behavior. Byron’s despair seemed real; the man was genuinely upset.

  Byron lifted his face again and squeezed Marc’s hands. “I need to get away from him before he destroys me completely,” Byron sobbed. Marc sighed inwardly; this was not what he had expected. Nevertheless, Marc knew that he needed to think fast and that he had to come up with a solution for his youngest brother. “Where are you living now, Byron,” Marc carefully started questioning Byron.

  It turned out that Byron didn’t live at the house but occupied one of the guesthouses on the premises. Marc wasn’t surprised because that way, his father stayed in control. Furthermore, Byron was mourning his mother, with whom he always had close contact. That was something that surprised Marc, especially after what Celia had told him.

  It seemed that now he had started confessing; Byron couldn’t stop. He told Marc that it had been their father’s idea to let him flirt with this girl that Byron didn’t even know. Byron didn’t have the courage or the strength to go against his father’s command. So, he had flirted with that girl; he didn’t even remember her name.

  “Please, help me, Marc. Tell me what to do because I can’t go on like that. It will kill me if I don’t get away from here. That man has no scruples,” Byron looked intently at Marc when he said, “I swear, he doesn’t have a soul.” The last words were a near whisper, but Marc had heard them.

  Marc had to think about what Byron had told him. Was the man sincere? Then, he decided that Byron was sincere about his feelings and the fear for their father. “I will help you, Byron. I just need time to figure out how,” Marc promised. “You will? Do you mean it?” Byron asked because he knew that if Marc made a promise, the man would keep it, no matter what. “I promise. Now, let’s go downstairs; we need to attend the reading of mom’s will,” Marc said as he gently guided his brother out of the room. “Wait, let me freshen up before we face the others,” Byron said as he disappeared into Marc’s room again. Marc followed his younger brother because he had all his stuff in the room. No, Marc didn’t trust anyone. He had trusted only one person with his life, and that person was dead, killed.

  “Am I on suicide watch?” Byron chuckled when he saw Marc following him into the room. “Something like that,” Marc replied, but he didn’t smile. After Byron was ready, they strode out of the room and descended the stairs. On their way to the study where the will would be read, Celia and Rodney joined them. “Where are Shauna and Erica?” Marc questioned. He was not concerned about his two other sisters, but he liked to know where everyone was. Marc didn’t like surprises because they could get you killed.

  “I believe that they are already in the study,” Rodney answered. Marc nodded as the four of them moved toward Marcus Blake’s office. When they entered, Marc saw Shauna and Erica sitting on the leather chairs that stood to the wall’s right side. The two sisters nodded when they saw Marc enter. He nodded in greeting and then walked to the left and went to stand next to the chair that Byron was sitting on. Even though Byron didn’t acknowledge him, Marc felt him relax the minute he stood beside him. Damn, the man really was terrified of his own father. They all had entered the study simultaneously, and Byron had walked in front of Marc, not looking at him.

  Marc knew what was coming because his mother had told him that he would inherit everything. But, he didn’t know how much money he would inherit. Joyce Richmond Blake had come from a very wealthy family; Marc suspected that it would be a large sum of money.

  When in Marc’s old bedroom, Byron had also confessed that it was because of their father that he had asked Marc why he had come to the house and if he was here for the money.

  “I don’t believe it; what the hell was she thinking?” Erica shrieked when the will was read, and it was clear that Joyce had left her sole fortune to her eldest son. Rodney was glaring daggers at Marc, but he didn’t say anything. Shauna looked thoughtful; it was obvious that she needed time to let it sink in that she wouldn’t get any money. Celia chuckled, and Marc suspected Celia had already known the content of Joyce Richmond Blake’s will.

  Byron looked up and smiled; his eyes sparkled like the man was genuinely happy that he didn’t inherit money or anything else. However, Marc saw something else too. Yep, the man had known the content of the will too. It seemed that only Shauna, Erica, and Rodney had been left in the dark.

  Marc had observed his father closely while the lawyer read the will. To Marc, it was clear that his father hadn’t expected that Marc would inherit the Richmond fortune and Blake Industries’ shares that Joyce possessed. Marcus Blake had been furious. Even though Blake Senior had himself under control immediately, Marc had seen it. And it satisfied him that the man was full of rage just because he didn’t get his claws on the shares of Blake Industries.

  Marc eyed everyone in the room, waiting for reactions, and he wasn’t disappointed. “I will sue you because I should have the shares of Blake Industries,” Rodney growled. All eyes were on Marc now. Marc sighed dramatically, looked like he was bored, and said in a calm, collected tone, “Do what you want; I don’t care. We won’t have personal contact with each other after I leave. All communication between us will go through my lawyer.” Marc looked at Byron. “If you want, then you can stay at my place,” he said, smiling.

  Byron paled as he glanced at their father. “Don’t look at him; he won’t harm you, not as long as I’m breathing. You will be free of the Blake Family. So, you can finally start your own life,” Marc told his younger brother. To Marc’s delight, Byron rose from the chair and looked expectantly at Marc. “Ready if you are,” Byron said. Marc could tell that Byron wanted to leave as soon as possible, as did he.

  “Don’t think that this is over because it isn’t, not by a long shot,” Rodney yelled after them. Byron paled, Marc chuckled. “Don’t pay him any attention; he’s just Marcus’ whipping boy,” Marc stated as they went upstairs. Byron needed to get to the guesthouse to pack his belongings. Marc had said that he would send someone to get the rest of Byron’s things that he couldn’t take with him.

  Marc grabbed his carry-on that he already had packed, then he accompanied Byron to the guesthouse because the young man was too afraid to go alone. He was scared of Rodney’s friend; the man had hit and kicked him once because Byron had refused to do shady business for the scum bag. Byron was a computer whiz, and Rodney had tried to force Byron to help his friend. Byron, however, had refused, even though he had been scared as hell.

  Marc’s blood boiled at hearing Byron confess his fear; on the other hand, he was proud that his baby brother dared to see no, even though he had been so scared.

  It took Byron only minutes to gather his belongings, well, the things that he wanted to take with him right away. “Are you ready?” Celia asked when she saw them leaving the guesthouse. “Yep,” Marc replied. Byron only nodded. “I will miss you, little brother, but I understand that you want to leave the family,” Celia commiserated.

  Marc and Byron climbed into Celia’s car, and Marc was relieved that he was finally on his way to the airport. The only thing that he hadn’t foreseen was that he would take someone home with him. But Marc had been afraid that if he had left Byron behind, his father would have destroyed him. Marcus Blake was good at destroying people.

  That thought brought him to the last conversation he had with his mother. The words kept flowing through his mind. I’m not sick, I’m dying, but it’s murder. Joyce hadn’t been able to finish her last sentence, and Marc was sure that she had wanted to warn him, but for
what, or whom? For his father, or maybe this Gloria McCallum person?

  Marc would investigate the death of his mother. The house doctor had signed the death certificate. Marc knew that this man was a close friend of his father, so this death certificate was worth nothing. Before Joyce died, she had asked Marc to take a blood sample to investigate if she was poisoned. Marc had sent the sample to a private lab under a false name. Marc had several aliases this time; he had used the name, Tom Brown. It would take some time before the toxicology report was complete.

  Marc hadn’t told Byron about the blood sample because he didn’t trust people, not even his little brother. Even though he had Byron staying at the house, Marc would stay careful. Byron was a whiz with computers; Marc had heard people talk about his little brother, saying that Byron was a miracle worker if it came to computers.