The previous mansion that Marc had sold after Alec’s death, both had their studies on the first floor. Maybe that was the reason that Marc had left the room untouched. Or he simply didn’t have a purpose for the room. The garage had room for three cars, which was enough since Marc possessed only one vehicle.
Marc entered the house, shed his coat, and dropped the keys in the bowl, which stood on the table in the hall. He climbed the stairs, went into his bedroom, and unpacked his clothes; threw everything in the hamper, and put his toiletries in the bathroom cabinet, then and shoved the suitcase under the bed. He went downstairs into the kitchen; his stomach was growling, so he opened the fridge and cursed when he saw it was empty. Well, there was milk, but that was probably spoiled. He had been gone for nearly four weeks and really needed to do some grocery shopping. Marc went back into the hall, grabbed the car keys, and drove into town to buy groceries.
After Alec’s death, his life had changed drastically. Marc had fallen into a depression; for three years, he had lived a solitary life without so much as taking on an assignment. He had spent his time reading, and he even had attempted to paint; he now knew that painting was not his thing. Marc had considered adopting a dog from the local shelter, but since he knew that he would take assignments again, it was a bad idea to get a dog. If Marc would ever take a dog, it would be for life, and now was not the time to adopt one. Maybe after he retired, someday he would adopt a dog.
Marc had moved to another part of Colorado. It had taken him a little over two years to come to terms with the death of his partner. To finally accept that the man was gone and wouldn’t come back.
Little by little, Marc started feeling better again, and it was only recently that he had thought about redecorating his house. After buying the estate, he never had the urge to make the house his home. A couch, a table, and some chairs, a flatscreen TV, and an entertainment set, that was everything that stood in the living room. Marc could sit, sleep, and eat. What else did he need?
A couple of weeks ago, Marc had taken on his first assignment since Alec’s death. It had taken him more than eight months to overcome the depression he fell into after Alec got killed. There were times that Marc had wanted to end his life because he missed him so much. The only thing that had kept Marc from killing himself was the urge to find Alec’s killer. However, even now, three years later, he still hadn’t found the one who was responsible for Alec’s death.
Still, Marc felt that it was time to get his life back on track again, and that was why he had wanted to create a home and had accepted his first assignment.
If Marc was honest with himself, pulling the trigger and kill a bad guy had made him feel alive. For the first time in a long time, Marc had felt like his old self again, but he would not give up the hunt for Alec’s killer. Marc knew that his time would come, that he would find him, and then the life of that scumbag would be forfeit.
Marc parked the car behind the shopping center and was on his way to the grocery store entrance when he felt a tingling in his neck. He turned, scanned his surroundings, and his gaze rested on a man who stood at the other side of the parking lot. Their eyes met, and Marc saw something familiar, but the man turned away from him, got into his car, and drove off.
Marc frowned because the man had looked familiar, and yet, he couldn’t quite place him, which was strange because he never forgot a face. Maybe he just looked like someone Marc knew. Marc continued his way to the supermarket. He passed a small flower shop; a strange feeling made him stop and look inside. Had it been here all along? Marc had never noticed the flower shop before. Then again, he never had paid any attention. Marc didn’t know what made him enter the shop, but he did.
“Hello, can I help you?” a soft voice asked. Marc glanced in the direction the voice had come from and saw what looked like the face of an angel behind yellow roses. Blond curls were bouncing around his head as the man walked toward Marc. Big green eyes gazed intently at him. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and he should have been dead. Marc was shocked to see this man standing before him because he had shot and killed him. He had been Marc’s last assignment before Alec got murdered three years ago. The man had been a child molester preparing to kidnap and torture his next victim, a five-year-old. Now, he was standing in front of Marc, smiling with the face of a freaking angel. His target had fled to France, but Marc had tracked him down and killed him; well, at least he thought that he did.
“Hello? How can I help you?” the angel repeated. Marc recovered quickly and decided on the spot that he needed to find out why this man was still alive. “I, uh. I want a dozen yellow roses, please,” Marc said because it was all that I could come up with. Something like this had never happened before. If Marc went after his target, then that person was a dead man walking. The angel smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile Marc had seen in a long time. He shook his head; no, this man was a monster, not an angel.
“You’re in luck; these just came in,” The florist said as he grabbed the bucket with yellow roses. “Shall I mix them with white baby’s breath?” the angel asked. It looked as if he wanted to add something, but then he didn’t.
“That’s great, thank you,” Marc replied; his heart was racing. How the fuck was that possible? Marc had never missed a target in his life, and he was absolutely sure that he had killed the bastard. So, he needed information about the angel and quickly.
“Did this shop open its doors recently?” Marc asked because it was strange that he hadn’t noticed the store before. Big green eyes gazed up at him. Marc decided on the spot that he simply would introduce himself. He needed to stay friendly; it was difficult, though. “I’m Marcus Blake, but everyone calls me Marc,” he introduced himself as he held out his hand.
The angel took the offered hand and said in a soft voice, “Hi, I’m Bailey Hudson. I’m the owner, and I opened the shop about six months ago.” Bailey kept gazing at Marc with his big green eyes. His gaze was intense, which threw Marc off-kilter even more, also something that never had happened to him before. Not even Alec had managed that. All Marc could think was that this man should be dead, and he wasn’t. Marc had shot him in the head, right between the eyes. No one survives a shot like that, no one.
“Are you new in town?” Bailey questioned. Marc shook his head and said, “No. I moved here about three years ago.” “Oh,” was all Bailey said as he concentrated on mixing the roses with white baby’s breath. “Can I invite you for some coffee? You pick the place,” Marc hastily added. The way Bailey looked at him made Marc believe that he would decline. And he was right.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t date strangers,” he said in his soft, melodic, yet firm voice. “Isn’t that the whole idea of dating? To get to know one another?” Marc said cautiously. Bailey smiled, and damn, the man was attractive. “Sorry, but the answer still is no,” Bailey replied, but now he sounded apologetic; this was good. It meant that Marc stood a chance to get a date with the florist; he felt it in his gut.
“What can I do to make you change your mind?” Marc asked, leaning toward the man with the face of an angel. Bailey took a step back and eyed Marc suspiciously. Marc stepped back because he didn’t want Bailey to feel uncomfortable. He really needed to know why this man still was breathing. “Okay, but I will be back again,” Marc said as he turned and walked toward the exit. “Why?” Bailey called after him. Marc stopped, turned, and said, “You don’t want to date a stranger, which means we have to get to know each other. So, I will be back. That way, you get to know me, then you can accept my dinner invitation.”
Bailey looked confused. “I don’t understand,” he softly replied. “You will,” Marc said as he turned and strode to the front door. “Mr. Blake?” Marc turned. “Yes?” “You forgot these,” Bailey said as he held up the beautiful bouquet of yellow roses. “They are for you,” Marc said, and then he exited the shop before Bailey could respond.
Marc returned to his car and slid behind the wheel; he didn’t drive away, though. He sat
in the vehicle and stared at the flower shop. The sign above the door read, “Flower Hut.” Marc couldn’t believe that the man he had killed was still alive. “What the hell is going on?” Marc said as he rubbed his face.
Then, Marc remembered that he still had some grocery shopping to do. So he drove to the other side of the mall, parked the car, got out of the car again, and this time he went straight to the supermarket.
To say that Marc was shocked seeing the man he had killed was still breathing was an understatement. How the fuck was that possible? Marc had never missed a target in life, never! So, how was it that this man was alive and kicking? It couldn’t be; it just couldn’t. However, the reality was that apparently, it was possible because he just had a conversation with, well, Bailey. Only the man Marc had killed was not called Bailey Hudson.
Chapter Two
Bailey watched the man walk out of the shop, get into his car, and to Bailey’s horror, the man didn’t drive away; instead, he kept staring at the shop. Bailey picked up his phone and dialed the man he knew would come to the rescue. “Hey, Bailey? What’s up,” the voice on the other end of the line greeted him cheerfully.
“Hey, Brendan, could you come over, please?” Bailey quietly asked while watching Marc, who was still sitting in his car. “Sure, is something wrong,” a worried-sounding Brendan inquired. “I don’t know. Maybe. “Alright, I’m on my way,” Brendan promised. Bailey sighed in relief. Brendan was his big brother, and he always had Bailey’s back.
Ten minutes later, Brendan strode into the shop. “Where is the fire, little brother,” Brendan joked as he looked around. “Outside, sitting in that black SUV,” Bailey pointed to the spot where Marc’s car stood a second ago. “Which SUV? I don’t see one,” Brendan said, looking confused. “He was there a second ago, just before you came in. I swear,” Bailey said in a defensive tone.
“Easy, little bro. I believe you; I really do. Can you describe the person and the car for me?” Brendan asked, his tone gentle. “I can do you one better,” Bailey smiled. “Okay,” Brendan said, waiting for his sibling to continue. “I know his name,” a smug-looking Bailey said. “Well, are you going to tell me?” Brendan questioned, smiling. “His name is Marcus Blake,” Bailey said.
Brendan cocked his head. “Are you sure?” he asked. Bailey frowned. “Yes, why?” he replied. “Tell me first why this man was watching you,” Brendan asked cautiously. “Why? Brendan, what’s going on? Do you know this man?” Bailey questioned instead of answering his brother. “Marcus Blake is the heir to the Blake Empire. Marcus Blake junior is the crown prince of the Blake family business and fortune,” he whispered.
“Wait a second, I’ll google him,” said Brendan as he grabbed his phone. Bailey was watching with interest. Brendan smiled as he held the phone in front of Bailey, who gasped at seeing Marcus Blake’s picture.
“I don’t understand; I’m confused,” Bailey quietly responded. Brendan’s smile was gentle when he said, “The Blake family owns Blake Industries. They are the producers of medical equipment, among other things. Brendan saw the exact moment when it clicked.
“Oh, holy shit. The hospital uses its equipment, like respirators and the crash carts.” Bailey’s eyes grew wide with amazement. Brendan laughed. “So, I think that I don’t need to check up on him, right?” Brendan chuckled. Bailey shook his head. “I guess not,” he said reluctantly.
“Now, tell me why you called me. What did Marc Blake do to scare you?” Brendan cautiously inquired. Bailey looked uncertain. He pressed his lips together. “He asked me out on a date,” he reluctantly admitted. Brendan looked thoughtful. “So, the man asked you out, then what?” he asked. Bailey blushed because now that he thought back, the man had been nothing but polite, nice even.
“I told him that I don’t date strangers,” Bailey softly said. “Did he harass you in any way? Did he force himself on you?” Brendan asked, and he was serious now because if that were the case, he would chase him down. Bailey shook his head. Then he told his brother about the yellow roses with baby’s breath.
“The man asked you out, and when you blew him off, he gave you a bouquet of beautiful roses? I don’t see the problem, little brother.” And Brendan really didn’t. “I’m sorry, I think that maybe, just maybe, I overreacted a bit,” a reluctant Bailey admitted, pressing thumb and index finger almost together. “Maybe? A little? I think that you overreacted a lot,” Brendan chuckled. “Look,” he said, “It’s almost closing time, and I’m off for the night. Let’s have dinner together,” Brendan chuckled as he ruffled Bailey’s hair. Bailey was all for that because he was hungry.
Bailey tended the flowers before he closed the shop. “Are you volunteering at the hospital tonight?” Brendan asked as they walked to the restaurant, which was around the corner from the Flower Hut. Bailey nodded. “Yep, my shift starts at nine o’clock tonight. I’m off at midnight,” Bailey informed his brother. “Alright, then I will pick you up and bring you home safely,” Brendan said, and his tone let Bailey know that there was no room for discussion.
“Thank you,” Bailey smiled. He knew that, even though his brother had acted as if nothing was wrong, he was on his guard. Brendan had always been very protective of Bailey, and for that, Bailey was grateful. Bailey stood his ground and could hold his own in a fight. So, why he always called Brendan when he got insecure or scared was anyone’s guess.
“It’s pretty busy already,” said Bailey when they entered Pete’s Place. They were lucky and got a table by the window. The waiter came, and Bailey ordered orange juice and Brendan a beer. They studied the menu, even though it wasn’t really necessary because both men were regulars at Pete’s Place.
Bailey put down his menu, and Brendan did the same. The waiter returned with the drinks and took their order. Bailey wanted the chicken in curry sauce with fried rice, and Brendan ordered steak with mashed potatoes and a green salad. “So, what will you do when Marc comes back tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, and he asks you out again?” Brendan asked between two bites of steak.
Bailey chewed, swallowed, and then said, “I really don’t know. He’s handsome, yes, and polite, but there’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like a dark cloud is hanging over him. I don’t know how else to explain.” Brendan frowned but didn’t reply. They finished their meal in companionable silence.
After they finished dinner, Bailey signaled the waiter for the check, paid, and left a generous tip. The brothers stepped outside the restaurant, and Bailey yawned and stretched. “Are you not too tired to work three hours at the hospital,” a worried-looking Brendan asked. Bailey shook his head. “No, I feel fine,” he replied as he deeply inhaled the night air. “Come; I will drive you to the hospital, and I’m picking you up after your shift ends. Since it’s your car that I’m driving tonight,” Brendan chuckled.
Brendan drove the car in front of the hospital’s main entrance, which was okay because he would leave in a few seconds again. “Bye, and thank you,” Bailey said as he kissed his brother on the cheek. Brendan smiled. “See you in a few hours, little brother,” he replied. “Take good care of my car,” Bailey teased, closed the car door, and watched Brendan drive away. He smiled because he was the luckiest man on the planet, having a brother like Brendan. The man always had his back, no matter what. Bailey knew that sometimes, he was a bit of a drama queen, but Brendan helped and comforted him when he needed it.
Brendan’s car was at the garage because something was wrong, and the vehicle hadn’t started this morning; it was why Brendan drove Bailey’s car. “Hey, Bailey,” said a voice behind him. Bailey knew that voice, and he smiled. “Hey, Doctor Michael. How are you?” he responded. It had been Doctor Michael who had made it happen for Bailey to start as a volunteer at the hospital. They talked about work and the weather as both men walked through the hospital doors. Tonight, Bailey would be helping out at the reception desk; it was what he liked.
Doctor Michael Reynolds strode to the elevator, and Bailey st
epped behind the reception desk and greeted Sandra, his friend, and colleague. “It’s too quiet,” Sandra said as she returned with coffee for herself and hot cocoa for Bailey. Just when Bailey wanted to reply, the phone rang. Sandra answered the call, and by the expression on her face, he could tell that something terrible had happened. Maybe an accident, with casualties? She put down the receiver, looked at Bailey. “An ambulance is on its way with a seriously injured male,” Sandra informed him.
Bailey watched when the doors flew open, and two EMTs rushed inside, pushing the gurney that had what looked like a severely wounded person on it. They hurried past them, and Bailey paled when he saw who it was that was lying on the gurney.
Assassins the Florist Book One Part One Page 2