Assassins the Florist Book One Part One

by Haley Langwood

  Marc took the phone and answered the call while he went upstairs to hand Bailey his phone. Somehow, Marc felt that the call was important, and he was right. “This is Bailey Hudson’s phone,” Marc said while he ascended the stairs. “Hi, this is Detective Murphy, and I would like to speak to Mr. Hudson,” the detective requested. “Just a moment,” Marc said.

  “What the?” Bailey stopped talking and stared at his phone like the thing would swallow him whole any minute now. Marc’s mouth went dry at seeing Bailey, wrapped in only a towel around his waist. He licked his lips and finally said, as he held the phone in front of Bailey’s face, “It’s Detective Murphy; he wants to talk to you.” Bailey’s eyes grew huge, and he shook his head. “You take the call, please,” he said in a pleading tone.

  So, Marc did take the call and explained that Bailey didn’t want to talk to the detective and that he would speak to Detective Murphy. Bailey had to confirm it through the phone, which he did. Detective Murphy was satisfied and agreed to talk to Marc, but he wanted to see Bailey the next day, to which Marc agreed.

  “Is it that bad?” Bailey said when Marc put the phone down. Marc sighed deeply because no, it wasn’t bad; it was worse. Marc guided a now dressed Bailey down the stairs and into the living room, where an anxious Byron was waiting for them.

  “What did the detective want?” Bailey didn’t really want to know because he knew he wouldn’t like what the man had to say. “Sit down, Bailey, please?” Marc softly said. Bailey paled, opened his mouth, then closed it again, and finally, he sat down.

  Marc looked from Bailey to Byron, then he sat down as well and said, “That was Detective Murphy, and,” Marc paused because this was so hard, and there was no way to soften the blow. “They found a body in the shop,” he whispered. No one said a word, and it was Bailey who, after a few minutes, finally spoke.

  “Did the detective tell you who it was?” Bailey sounded so fragile; his eyes were too big, and his skin too pale. Marc shook his head; Detective Murphy had found an ID card and other things that Marc knew belonged to Keith. He didn’t want to tell Bailey yet, not until the police had a positive identification on the burned body.

  “They aren’t sure, but they found what they think is the victim’s belongings. Detective Murphy wants you to come to the police station to see if you can identify the things they found near the body,” Marc spoke in a soft and soothing tone. Byron was observing Bailey intently, as was Marc.

  Bailey sat motionless on the couch, staring into space. “Baby?” Marc softly said; when Bailey didn’t react, Marc gazed at his brother, who shrugged. Marc was afraid that if the victim turned out to be Keith, it would send Bailey over the edge, damn!

  “I could go and see what things they have found near the body,” Marc said while he was eyeing Bailey intently. Finally, Bailey lifted his head; he said, “Is it possible that this man isn’t Keith?” Marc hadn’t seen that one coming, and he had to think because he didn’t want to upset Bailey any more than the man already was. However, he also didn’t want to lie. “There’s always a possibility,” Marc finally said. “Then I want to go and see the body because I need to know,” he whispered. Marc didn’t like it, but he took Bailey to the morgue anyway.

  Bailey stopped walking when they stood in front of the morgue. Marc waited patiently; then the coroner came their way. “Mr. Hudson?” he said, addressing Marc. “No, this is Mr. Hudson,’ said Marc as he pointed to Bailey. “Are you ready, baby?” Marc softly said as he gently squeezed Bailey’s shoulders. Bailey nodded as he leaned heavily against Marc’s muscled chest.

  “Are you sure, Bailey?” Marc asked for the second time. Was Bailey losing it? Would seeing the dead body be too much? “I’m sure it’s not Keith,” Bailey sounded agitated, and Marc understood. “Trust me, it’s not him,” said Bailey as they sat in Marc’s car. “Alright, I believe you. That means that Keith is missing because we can’t get a hold of him,” Marc said. “Then we need to find him,” Bailey replied. Marc nodded; if Keith really was missing, then the man was in danger if he still was alive.

  Bailey was in the living room reading when his phone began to ring, and the ringtone let him know that it was Keith, or at least his phone. Bailey yelled for Marc and Byron; then, he answered the call. “Hey Bailey, it’s Keith. Thank God that you’re alright. I saw the explosion on TV.” “Where the hell are you, and why didn’t you answer your God damn phone!” a yelling Bailey interrupted.

  “I. I don’t understand. I discovered just now that my phone was dead, and I had to buy a new charger because somehow the old one disappeared. What’s wrong?” Keith finally said, and he sounded worried. Marc stood beside Bailey and picked up the phone when a trembling Bailey dropped it. “Hey Keith, this is Marc. There was an explosion, the shop and Bailey’s apartment are completely destroyed. Also, they found a dead body inside with your ID card and other belongings beside it,” Marc explained calmly.

  “Oh, God, now I understand. A dead body with my ID and Bailey couldn’t reach me. God-damn, shit,” Keith cursed. “Yeah, well, the main thing is that you’re alright. When do you get back? I understood from Bailey that you are at an auction?” “Yep, but I’m on my way home now. I should be there in about one hour. And I’m so sorry for upsetting Bailey,” Keith apologized. “It wasn’t your fault; just come straight to the mansion, don’t go home because it’s not safe,” Marc cautioned. Keith promised that he would go straight to the mansion, and then he rang off. Marc explained to Bailey what had happened with Keith’s phone.

  Bailey felt sick; he had lashed out at Keith for something the man couldn’t do anything about. “Keith knows that you were sick with worry; he really feels bad about it that you weren’t able to reach him,” Marc said as he pulled Bailey close, lifted his face, and gently kissed him. It was just a brush of lips against each other, but it had the desired effect. Bailey calmed down almost immediately.

  Marc was pleasantly surprised when Bailey didn’t pull away from him, but instead, he leaned closer. Marc put his hands on both sides of Bailey’s face, pulled him close, and kissed him again; this time, it was more demanding. Bailey didn’t hesitate and parted his lips when Marc’s tongue demanded entrance.

  It was their first kiss, and both men lost track of time when Bailey wrapped his arms around Marc’s neck and held him tightly while their tongues lazily explored each other’s mouths. When breathing became difficult, Marc broke the kiss and chuckled when Bailey protested.

  Marc lifted Bailey’s head, gazed into the man’s gorgeous big green eyes, and said, “Don’t tear Keith’s head off if he arrives. The man feels bad enough as it is, okay?” Bailey nodded. “I’m not mad at Keith, really I’m not, but it’s just.” “I know, baby. I know, and Keith knows it too,” Marc assured.

  Marc knew that Bailey had been sick, literally sick with worry, when they couldn’t reach Keith. Then, there was the explosion and a dead body in the shop, and Bailey had lost it because he had thought it was Keith who had died in the explosion. Hell, the man had been in the morgue to identify the burned body. It seemed that Bailey was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Still, Marc wondered why it had taken Keith so long before he had called Bailey.

  Marc still had trouble trusting Keith; it was different with Bailey, though. Somehow, Marc trusted Bailey completely. Bailey radiated innocence, and Keith did not, maybe because the man was a former FBI agent? Marc didn’t know. Anyway, he was glad that Keith had finally contacted them because Bailey had been on the verge of losing it.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  “Where is Byron?” Bailey questioned when he didn’t see the man in the living room. He knew that Byron had his day off from work. Bailey guessed that Byron was in his study; the man spent a lot of time there when he was home. “Byron is in his study,” Marc replied.

  “Is he investigating something?” Bailey asked; he suspected already that Byron was busy finding out who had placed the bomb under his car and in his apartment. “Let’s go and see if Byron found out an
ything,” Marc said as he guided Bailey to Byron’s study.

  “Have you and Keith talked?” Marc questioned because with the trouble they were facing, it was important that there was no quarrel among them. Unity was now more important than ever. Bailey nodded. “Yes, I have. Keith apologized for not calling sooner; I apologized for lashing out at him,” Bailey replied. That answer was good enough for Marc, as he opened the door to Byron’s study and stepped aside so Bailey could enter first.

  Byron didn’t look up; he was focussing solely on the screen. “Hi guys,” he greeted. Bailey and Marc walked further into the study until they stood directly behind Byron. “Any news?” Marc questioned his younger brother. It was now that Byron turned his head and gazed at Marc and Bailey.

  “I decided to take a closer look at the Delossantos family, and I discovered some interesting things. He looked intently at Bailey and said cautiously, “What I found out may shock you.” Bailey frowned. “Well, tell me,” he said. “You better sit down,” Byron said. “Here,” Marc pulled a chair in front of Bailey because he had seen the reluctance in the man’s eyes. Bailey sat down and looked expectantly at Byron.

  “I did some more digging. My instinct told me that there had to be more than what I could dig up so far, and I was right,” Byron paused, and Marc could tell that his brother was searching for the right words. That meant that he had some delicate news to share.

  Byron eyed Bailey. “What do you know about your parents?” he began carefully. Bailey shrugged. “Not much; I know that my mother left my father and that she refused contact between them. “Okay, we know that you are in the witness protection program. My next question is, what is your actual last name?” Byron questioned gently. Bailey nodded because Keith had told him that he had discussed it with the Blake brothers.

  “My real name is Bailey Hatcher,” he softly answered. Byron looked satisfied; he said, “Alright, and your mother’s name was Emily Hatcher, right?” If Bailey was surprised, he didn’t show. “Yes,” he replied. “Do you know who your father is? Did your mother ever talk about him?” “No, never. Why?” “Well, I found out who your father is,” Byron paused and then dropped the bombshell. “Mario Delossantos is your father.” Marc frowned; Bailey paled and looked like he was about to pass out any minute.

  Marc came to stand behind Bailey, just in case the man would faint. Byron observed Bailey intently. “Are you alright?” he softly asked. It took a few minutes before Bailey had found his voice. “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. Marc walked to the mini-fridge and came back with three bottles of water. “Here, drink this; it will do you good,” he said as he handed Bailey a bottle.

  Bailey took a few sips and swallowed hard; he didn’t know what he had expected. “I. I don’t understand. Are you sure?” Bailey stammered. “Positive. Your father is Mario Delossantos, your mother is Emily Hatcher, and your brothers, well, there’s Brendan, of course.” Byron paused because he saw Bailey flinch at hearing Brendan’s name.

  “I’m so sorry,” Byron softly said when he saw tears fill Bailey’s eyes. Marc wrapped his arms around Bailey’s shoulders and held him tight. He leaned toward Bailey’s ear and whispered, “Baby, you’re not alone. You have Keith, Byron, and me. We will help you through this.”

  “You must have questions,” Byron said. “I’m sure of it, but not right now. I’m so confused,” Bailey covered his eyes with both of his hands and kept shaking his head. This wasn’t happening, no no no. Was his father really Mario Delossantos, the mafia boss? No way, it just couldn’t be.

  Byron looked at Marc, silently asking him if and how to continue. Marc nodded, which meant that he trusted Byron to continue sharing even more information but tread carefully. Bailey gazed at Byron, and judging by the man’s expression; he knew that there was more.

  “There’s more, isn’t there?” “Yes, unfortunately. A lot more,” Byron softly replied. “Well, better get it over with, then,” Bailey said, and he meant it because even though he didn’t want to, he needed to know the truth about his heritage. He needed to know everything there was to know about his so-called family, his mafia family, Jesus Christ.

  Then another thought hit him, making him shudder. “What is it, baby?” Marc sounded worried. Bailey gazed at Marc; he softly said, “If Mario Delossantos is my father, then Robert Delossantos is my brother.” It was Byron who answered; he pressed his lips together and finally said, “I’m afraid so.” “There’s another brother,” Byron said, and then he paused.

  Bailey told Byron to tell everything that he had found out because he had to know; he needed to know. Could it get any worse? Surely not. “You have another brother, your twin,” Byron informed, it sounded blunt, but he didn’t know how to share this delicate information any other way.

  Byron saw the exact moment that it clicked. Bailey looked shocked but not as shocked as Marc. However, the assassin recovered quickly. Byron eyed Marc, and he continued. “His name is Fabian Hatcher or Fabian Copely, which was the name he used before he got killed,” Byron said as he eyed Marc.

  “I don’t know what exactly happened that Emily, your mother, took only you and Brendan when she left Mario Delossantos. Also, he never even tried to get her back. That’s strange, too, especially for a mob boss,” Byron added, and this time he gazed at Bailey.

  Bailey looked at Marc; he softly said, “Is it okay if I lie down for a bit? It’s a lot to take in, and I’m really confused and, I don’t know. I don’t know.” Marc didn’t touch Bailey because something in him told him not to. Instead, he said that he understood and that Bailey should take all the time that he needed. Bailey silently left the room.

  Marc waited until he was sure that Bailey was upstairs. “A twin? A Goddamned twin? Is this for real?” he whispered, still afraid that if he yelled, Bailey would hear him. “I know, and I was just as stunned as you were. Fabian is the spitting image of Bailey; now we know why.

  “He’s the son of a mob boss, which means that Bailey incriminated his own father when he gave the footage, in which Mario disposed of a body, to the cops. Damn, what else can we expect?” Marc said he was pacing the room.

  Marc was both shocked and surprised to find out that Bailey was the son of Mario Delossantos. “How did you get this info? How did you know where to look?” Marc inquired. “I decided to dive into the Delossantos family and found out that Fabian Copely was Mario and Emily’s son. He looks exactly like Bailey, that when the lights went on. From there on, it was easy to connect the dots.” Byron looked smug. Marc was impressed.

  A soft knock made both men turn their heads. Marc smiled when he saw Bailey standing in the doorway. “Come here, baby,” Marc said as he reached for Bailey. Bailey took Marc’s hand and let himself be pulled toward the handsome man.

  Marc cupped Bailey’s chin between his thumb and index finger and gently turned his head. Bailey looked sad, but he appeared calm. “We will do everything in our power to keep you safe and give you the answers you need,” Marc promised.

  Bailey eyed Byron and thanked him for all the information that the man had come up with because Bailey knew how much work it must have been. “My pleasure,” Byron replied. Bailey then looked at Marc. “How do we go from here?” Then he gazed at Byron again. “Can you find out why Fabian was murdered and who the killer was?”

  It was all Byron could do, not to look at Marc because it was he who had assassinated Fabian. “I can try,” Byron finally answered. “Thank you,” Bailey said. Marc took Bailey to the back deck and gently pushed him into one of the lounge chairs. Then, he went into the house again, and a moment later, he returned with two glasses of orange juice. He had seen the determination in Bailey’s eyes when the man had asked Byron to try and find Fabian’s killer.

  Bailey stared in the direction of the orchard when he spoke, “I’m still flabbergasted. I mean, I’m the son of an infamous mafia boss, go figure.” Marc pressed his lips together, and he looked thoughtful when he said. “You’re allowed to be stunned. It’s not every day t
hat you find out that you’re related to the Delossantos family.”

  “Could it be that Mario Delossantos is aware that I’m his son?” Bailey mumbled. Marc shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe. Who knows?” he softly replied. Bailey thought of Brendan and asked himself what he would do with this information. Brendan had always known what to do, and Bailey felt at a loss without his older brother. Life would never be the same without Brendan.