Assassins the Florist Book One Part One

by Haley Langwood

  Time would tell if he could trust Byron enough to let him do small assignments, but for now, he would keep a close eye on his baby brother.

  Chapter Six

  Marc pushed the button to open the cast-iron gate, and a moment later, the house came into sight. “This is your house?” Byron gasped. “If I didn’t know better, I would say that you’re impressed,” Marc chuckled. “I am. You must be rich,” Byron observed. “Yeah, well,” Marc didn’t know how to answer, so he kept quiet.

  “Has it a guest house?” Byron questioned. “Yes, there is a guest house on the premises, but I would like you to stay at the house,” Marc said. He wanted his brother close, just in case his father might try something. Marcus Blake Senior wasn’t a man who took losing well. So, Marc expected his father to retaliate because he had taken Byron away from the family. He didn’t share his thoughts with his younger brother, but Marc knew that he needed to keep a close eye on Byron. For one, to keep his brother safe, and second, to observe him because if he pulled a stunt, Marc would be there to prevent that. Fact was that he still didn’t trust Byron; even though it was his little brother, that didn’t mean that he could be trusted. God, it was just like a bad scene from a mob movie.

  Byron looked surprised. “You want me to stay at the house? Really?” Marc frowned. “Of course, why not, you’re my brother, and I want you near,” Marc paused, then he said in a soft voice, “We need to get to know each other. You might be my brother, but that fact is that I don’t know you at all.” Byron looked sad. “I guess that’s true. Isn’t that sad? We are brothers, but we don’t really know each other.” Then Byron’s eyes lit up. “Now we have all the time in the world to get to know each other. That’s cool, right?” he said, smiling.

  Marc chuckled; he had the impression that his little brother still had some purity and innocence in him. He hoped that in time, Byron would get back to being his old self again. Marc parked the car, and the brothers got out of the vehicle. Byron took in his surroundings, and then he smiled. “It’s nice. I like it,” he glanced at Marc and softly added, “It looks so much better than the mausoleum that dad is calling home.” Marc nodded in agreement because he had never liked the house; it was a monstrosity.

  “I will show you your room,” Marc offered. “Where is the staff?” Byron questioned as they ascended the stairs. “I don’t have any,” Marc chuckled. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford it, but Marc didn’t want strangers in his house, mostly when he was away for an assignment. There was no need to explain that to Byron.

  “Do you have food in the house? I could cook us a meal,” Byron offered. Marc nearly did a double-take, making Byron laugh. “You cook? Are you kidding me? I thought that you are a computer guy,” Marc questioned. Byron laughed even harder, and it made him look so young. It was now that Marc noticed that his baby brother looked so much older than his twenty years.

  “How did you learn to cook?” Marc asked because he suspected that Byron watched many cooking shows on TV. “I took cooking lessons from a top chef. He said that I had the potential to become a chef myself,” a blushing Byron confessed. Marc frowned. “Do you want to be a chef?” he asked. Byron looked guilty, confusing Marc even more, and then it clicked. “Ah.” “Yeah, ah, Dad did his best to kill that dream,” Byron sighed.

  So, his father had prevented Byron from chasing his dream to become a chef. Yeah, that sounded like Marcus Blake. The man had controlled everyone in the house. “My pantry and fridge are as good as empty. So we would need to do some grocery shopping, but not now. I think that there’s enough to whip up a simple meal,” Marc said. “Will you show me the kitchen?” Byron asked after he had unpacked, and they were descending the stairs. “Let me give you the grand tour,” Marc offered.

  “It’s big but cozy. I love it,” Byron said after Marc had shown him nearly every room in the house. Marc had a study other than the one that was on the first floor. This particular office was in the basement, behind what looked like a wall.

  The living room had comfortable beige-colored chairs and couches. Colorful art decorated the off-white walls, and an entertainment center occupied the left side of the wall. Dark brown, long pile carpet covered the living room floor, making the room look cozy, homey. The coffee table, dining table, and side tables were made of light oak wood and perfectly complimented the rest of the furniture. The huge windows had see-through, off-white curtains.

  The kitchen had a cooking island; the cabinets were white with dark green countertops. Of course, there were all kinds of built-in kitchen appliances, like a microwave and an oven with many functions, a dishwasher, and so on. Byron’s eyes lit up at seeing that the kitchen was so complete.

  Marc observed his baby brother for a while, and the man didn’t even seem to notice that he was watched. Byron seemed genuinely happy and impressed by the large kitchen, which was good. Maybe, just maybe, he had managed to free Byron out of the claws from Blake Senior on time. Well, only time would tell, but for now, Marc would keep Byron at the main house, and he would protect his brother.

  “There’s enough in the pantry and fridge to cook a decent meal,” Byron grinned. Marc smiled because how could he not? “Well, knock yourself out,” he said, “I’ll be in the living room,” Marc added. “Oh, do I need to show you where everything is?” Marc questioned. Byron shook his head. “No, I will find my way, don’t worry. However, you can set the table,” he grinned. Marc shook his head; even though he liked to live independently, he already liked having Byron around. Maybe there was hope for him, after all.

  It turned out that Byron had spoken the truth when he told Marc that he had learned how to cook. Marc sniffed the air as Byron put the food on their plates and placed them on the table. The steak was tender, and the mashed potatoes were delicious, as were the green beans. “This tastes so good. How did you make the mashed potatoes because I never had them like this. They are perfect and taste like nothing I ever had before,” Marc complimented his baby brother. Byron smiled sheepishly. That’s the cook’s secret,” he said, blushing. Marc smiled; he liked that. Even though Byron appeared to be his old shy self again, the man had his principles, and that was promising for Marc’s plans.

  They spend the evening watching TV and talk. Byron had a lot to say about their father and how badly he had treated their mother. The man was ruthless, but they already knew that, and it had Marc worry sometimes. He was afraid that he would become the same cold-hearted bastard that his father was. Then again, he didn’t kill for pleasure and to get a kick out of it. Marc only took assignments when it concerned scum, like child molesters and rapists and so on. If the law failed to do their jobs, then Marc stepped in.

  Thinking about grocery shopping had Marc thinking about Bailey Hudson, the florist. Marc shook his head; no, it couldn’t be Fabian Copely, or could he? Marc wanted to ask his baby brother, the computer whiz, to look into Bailey Hudson, but he didn’t trust him completely, not yet. So, he had to do some searching himself. Marc was good with weapons, but he wasn’t that familiar with computers to really do a background check on someone.

  Marc sighed; if he only could be sure that Byron’s intentions were sincere, then he could ask him to check on Bailey. But as it was, Marc wouldn’t risk getting his baby brother involved just yet.

  It was after midnight when they headed upstairs to their bedrooms. Byron had told Marc a lot about what was going on at the house and about Gloria McCallum. Marc now knew that his mother had suffered tremendously in the last year of her life.

  “I’m not sick. I’m dying, but it’s murder.” The words kept echoing through his mind. Blake Senior was a cold-hearted bastard, but would he go as far as murder? Kill his own wife? The mother of his children? This was difficult to believe, even for Marc. Gloria McCallum, on the other hand, had been too cheerful at his mother’s funeral. The woman had shown no respect whatsoever.

  Marc was in bed, but sleep wouldn’t come. He was restless, and Marc knew why. Too many things were going on right now. There wa
s Bailey, or was it Fabian Copely? And the suspicious death of his mother, plus he had Byron staying in the house. True, the man was his baby brother, but the fact was that he didn’t know him. It bothered Marc that Byron was hard to read. Byron was good at hiding his true feelings; well, Marc was too, for that matter.

  Byron probably had learned to hide his feelings because Blake Senior liked playing with people’s emotions very much. Even so, Marc had the impression that Byron was genuinely happy to be away from the Blake Estate.

  Marc closed his eyes while he was overthinking everything that had happened in the last few days. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep, but he did.

  Chapter Seven

  “NOOO,” Bailey screamed and screamed until he could scream no more. The last thing he remembered was a sharp pain, and after that, everything was a blur. Bailey opened his eyes and saw Keith sitting beside the bed. He glanced around carefully. Hospital? Was he at the hospital? It only took seconds until it all came back, and Bailey started crying.

  Keith was immediately at his side. He sat on the edge of the bed and held Bailey’s hand as the young man cried until no more tears were left. “Where is he? I want to see him,” Bailey whispered. Keith sighed because he had seen Brendan, and it hadn’t been a pretty sight. The man was severely burned, and his left arm had been torn from his body because of the powerful explosion.

  Keith had identified Brendan; even though the man was nearly burned beyond recognition, he had known that it was Brendan Hudson. Now Keith had the difficult task to tell Bailey that he needed to make the final identification because he was the only next of kin. It had been just the two of them against the world. Now Bailey was on his own. Keith would be there for Bailey, but the man knew that he couldn’t replace Brendan. Bailey and Brendan had a strong bond. Not only were they brothers, but they were also each other’s best friends and confidants.

  “I will take you to see Brendan.” Keith paused because this was so freaking hard. It broke his heart to see Bailey so destroyed. “I must warn you, Brendan is severely burned and,” Keith couldn’t say anymore. He did his best to be strong for Bailey, but it was to no avail. Keith lowered his head in his hands and started crying. Bailey wrapped his arms around his friend, and together they cried and cried.

  “Do you need medication to keep you calm?” Keith asked because he would see to it that Bailey got what he needed. “No, I need to be clearheaded,” Bailey softly answered. He didn’t want to identify Brendan because he knew he would never lose the image that awaited him. Bailey knew because he worked at the hospital, in which he was currently admitted.

  “Will you go with me?” Bailey sounded sad, scared, and depressed, and Keith was afraid that his friend wouldn’t be able to take the loss. Keith had never seen siblings who were as close as Bailey and Brendan had been. So, he knew that Bailey was in for a rough ride, and he hoped and prayed that the man would survive with his sanity intact.

  “Are you ready?” Keith spoke in a soft, gentle tone. Bailey was trembling, he didn’t want to do this, but at the same time, he needed to see if it really was Brendan. “I will never be ready, but I don’t have a choice,” Bailey quietly responded. Keith sighed but didn’t reply. What could he say that would make Bailey feel better? Right, there was nothing he could say or do, which frustrated Keith to no end.

  Bailey stood in front of a small window; the curtains, which were at the other side of the glass, were closed. He knew what they wanted, and that wouldn’t do. “No,” Bailey said when they opened the curtain to show Brendan’s face. He wanted to see his brother without a window that was separating them. “Oh, Bailey. Why do you want to go inside? You really don’t need to; you know that, right?” Doctor Michael said. The doctor had accompanied Bailey and Keith in case Bailey collapsed.

  “I need to see him,” said a determined Bailey. “Alright, if you are sure,” Doctor Michael said as he slowly opened the door to the coroner’s examining room. Bailey stepped inside, and for a moment, he froze. The smell was awful; he had never been down here before, and for a good reason. Bailey didn’t like, as he called it, the catacombs, which was in fact, the hospital’s basement. But, now, he had no choice. Bailey inhaled deeply and immediately regretted it. “Here,” the coroner handed him a tissue that smelled like roses. “Better?” “Yes, thank you,” Bailey replied as he kept staring at the body that was covered with a sheet.

  The coroner stood next to the table on which Brendan was lying. Bailey reluctantly neared the table, Keith at his side. The man had taken Bailey’s hand in silent support. Bailey nodded, and the coroner slowly pulled the sheet back until Brendan’s head was revealed. Bailey gasped, and breathing became difficult. “Easy, Bailey. Keep breathing, slow and steady,” Keith coached gently.

  The room spun, and Bailey didn’t feel his legs anymore. If Keith and Doctor Michael hadn’t supported him, he would have fallen to the floor. Bailey, however, was quickly on his feet again, much to Keith’s surprise. “You need to get out of here. Some fresh air will do you good,” Doctor Michael said. “No, I want to stay with Brendan. He needs me; I can’t leave him all alone, it’s cold and dark and here,” Bailey protested, but Doctor Michael gently took Bailey’s arm and guided him carefully out of the room.

  Doctor Michael looked at Keith, silently telling him to take Bailey outside into the hospital garden for some fresh air. Keith nodded and guided Bailey slowly to the stairs. They passed the ER, and then Keith found the way to the garden.

  Once outside, Keith gently pushed Bailey on the bench. He was relieved when Sandra had followed them, carrying two bottles of water. She handed them to Keith, and then she left without saying a word. Sandra knew when to talk and when to stay silent. Now was such a time when silence was appreciated. Bailey was broken, and he would face a tough time without Brendan.

  “What do I do without Brendan? How can I live without my brother,” Bailey was crying again, and Keith’s heart was breaking all over again. “I know that you might not believe me right now, but in time, you will learn to go on without Brendan,” Keith soothed. Bailey lifted his tear-streaked face. “How? Tell me how, because I don’t think that I can. I wouldn’t know how,” Bailey whispered.

  Keith inwardly sighed because he was afraid that Bailey might be right, that the man wouldn’t be able to go on without his brother. Brendan had been Bailey’s rock, a friend, and his confidant. He had been so much more than a brother to Bailey. And Keith knew because he knew the brothers well.

  Keith had been shocked to hear about Brendan’s violent death; it was something that Bailey still didn’t know. At Keith’s advice, no one had told Bailey the truth about the way Brendan had died. Keith had an idea about what had happened, but that would be next to impossible, so he dismissed that thought and concentrated on Bailey. The man would need him in the days to come.

  “How did it happen? Was it a hit-and-run?” Bailey suddenly questioned, and it was where Keith had been so afraid of. Bailey had overcome the shock, and now he would want to know how it had happened. Keith didn’t want to lie, but he how could he tell him the truth? He had hoped for more time before Bailey would start asking questions and demand answers.

  “Bailey, I don’t think.” “Tell me what happened. How did Brendan die? I need to know what happened. I need to know,” Bailey interrupted his friend. And Keith knew that he had no choice other than to tell Bailey how his brother had died. “It wasn’t a hit-and-run.” Keith paused. Keith took Bailey’s hand and softly said, “Someone placed a bomb under your car.”

  Bailey looked at Keith, and his pupils were too big. “Oh, shit,” Keith mumbled as he grabbed his phone and called Doctor Michael. In minutes the doctor was at Bailey’s side. “Shit. He’s in shock. What happened,” the doctor inquired while he hailed for a stretcher. Within minutes, Bailey was back in the room where the doctor had taken him after Brendan’s death.

  “What happened that he went into shock. He should be upset and grieving, and angry, but he shouldn’t be in this state
of shock,” said Doctor Michael. Keith looked so guilty when he told the doctor that Bailey had demanded he tell him how Brendan died. Doctor Michael looked sympathetically when he said, “I see. And I know that Bailey can be very persistent. Now I understand why he is in this state.” “I will stay with him,” Keith said, and no one would stop him.

  “That’s a good idea. I’m off in thirty minutes; I’ll give you my number; if you need me, then don’t hesitate to call me, okay?” Keith nodded and took Doctor Michael’s business card. The doctor left, and Keith pulled the plastic chair to the bedside. It was noon, and Keith knew that he was in for a long day and an even longer night. However, that was alright. Keith would do whatever was necessary to help Bailey through this difficult time.