Assassins The Florist Book One Part One lh47

Each story will consist of two parts.

The Florist Assassins Book 01 Part 01

Written by Haley Langwood

Cover design by Haley Langwood

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I hope you have just as much fun reading Marc and Bailey’s story as I had writing it.

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Dedication

To my dear husband, who always has my back, no matter what!

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Names, companies, characters, and places are the creation of my imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Haley Langwood

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Copyright 2021 by Haley Langwood

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Table of Contents

Prologue Chapter 01 Chapter 02 Chapter 03 Chapter 04 Chapter 05 Chapter 06 Chapter 07 Chapter 08 Chapter 09 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17

Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38

Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 About the Author Other Works of Haley Langwood

Assassins Book One, Part One

Prologue

Marc took the rifle apart and put it in its bag. He grabbed his cell phone and hit speed dial. “It’s done,” he said. “Alright, the money is getting transferred as we speak,” the voice replied; Marc disconnected. He walked to the car and didn’t react to the police vehicles’ sirens that were on their way to the crime scene he had just created.

Marc turned the key and eased the car into traffic. All he wanted was to go home to Alec, his partner, for nearly ten years. Marc had told his, well, associate that he wouldn’t be available for the next four or five weeks. The man hadn’t liked it, but Marc didn’t care.

Alec had booked a trip to God knew where, and they would stay away for at least four weeks. Marc had looked forward to spending time with Alec at their home. However, Alec had been so excited about organizing this trip that Marc hadn’t been able to say no.

Marc didn’t like surprises because he needed to be in control, always, all the time. Maybe it was because he was a hitman and one of the best in the country. Not even his associate knew Marc’s identity, and he liked it that way. Alec was the only one who knew who and what he was. And the man had accepted it because Marc never took an assignment that made him kill an innocent.

Sometimes, people thought they could solve their problems by hiring an assassin to kill the woman who wanted a divorce. Or a person who owed another person money. How convenient it would be that that person got killed. It was something Marc condemned. He only took out the scumbags that deserved to die. Marc always did his homework before taking on a new assignment.

He was on his way to the airport when a feeling of dread made his stomach turn.

Marc’s gut feeling was telling him that something was terribly wrong. “Goddammit,” he cursed as he saw the traffic jam in front of him, and he stopped the car. The road to the airport was closed because of an accident, shit.

Marc grabbed his phone and dialed Alec, something he never did because he never ed anyone while on assignment, but somehow, this time, it was different. Marc needed to know that everything was alright at home. The call was answered on the second ring. “Hello?” Marc smiled in relief when he heard Alec’s voice. “Hey, it’s me,” he said in a husky voice. Marc’s tone always turned husky when he talked to his lover.

“Is something wrong?” Alec asked. Marc smiled, “No, all is fine. I just needed to hear your voice,” he said. Alec sounded chipper; there was no tension in his voice. Marc would have noticed when something was wrong because Alec was very sensitive and couldn’t hide his feelings. To Marc, Alec was an open book. So, he knew that Alec was okay, but why was his stomach still in knots? Well, his partner was alright, and that was the most important thing.

Finally, after more than two hours, the road was cleared, and Marc could resume his way to the airport. He had called the airline to change his flight because Marc knew that he wouldn’t make it in time to catch his original flight. It also meant that he would arrive home late.

When Marc boarded the plane, he was welcomed with champagne, which he declined. He seldom drank alcohol because it could cloud the mind, which he didn’t like. So, instead, Marc asked for some orange juice. That was the beauty of traveling business class; you could order anything you want. Right now, all that he wanted was to go home and spend quality time with Alec.

Marc was about to put his phone into flight mode when it rang, and he let it go to

voice mail when he saw who it was. He did have several phones, and this particular one was used only by the person who ed on the requests for an assignment. He had told his associate that he would be absent for at least a month. Marc knew that the bastard would call to try and talk him into taking another assignment. Well, it’s just the way he was.

Most people slept after they finished their meal, and the lights were dimmed, but Marc never slept on the plane. Plus, there still was his gut feeling that was reminding him that something wasn’t right. Marc’s first thought had been that someone was after him and that that person was on the plane as well. However, no one knew him as a hitman. Marc was very good at hiding his identity.

Alec was Marc’s only weak spot. He was the only one who knew how Marc earned his money. Alec was okay with it, as long as Marc didn’t kill innocent people or children. The people in their neighborhood thought Marc was a businessman who traveled a lot for his work. They went to neighborhood BBQs when they were invited, and once in a while, Marc and Alec threw a party for their neighbors. Why? Because it was the perfect way for them to blend in.

Marc checked the time; his flight would take another four hours, damn. His target had lived overseas, in , to be precise, which meant that it was a long flight back home. Marc hated these assignments that took him overseas, but it was what it was. He took a few sips of water and glanced around, but everything seemed normal; most engers were sleeping. The bag that had his rifle in it would be shipped overseas; Marc knew just the right ways to get his tools safely back home.

The plane landed, and when the doors finally opened, Marc was the first to exit the aircraft. Marc had all his luggage, like clothes and toiletries, in his carry-on, so he didn’t need to wait at the baggage claim. He went through customs without any problems, and on his way to his car, Marc called Alec again. He wanted to let him know that he was back in the country and on his way to the mansion.

Alec didn’t answer the phone, and Marc’s instinct let him know something wasn’t right. Bile rose in his throat, and Marc hastily crossed several parking lots until he reached the one where his car was parked. It was at least a one-and-ahalf-hour drive to the estate, but Marc managed to do it in an hour.

Something was very wrong; Marc just felt it. He drove through the gate, and as he neared the house, his heart sank when he saw that the front door stood ajar. This wasn’t good. Marc didn’t take the time to shut down the car’s engine but hastily got out of the vehicle and sprinted to the front door, and rushed inside.

Marc knew that he should have been more careful, but this was about Alec, the most important person in his life. The man that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Marc had his gun at the ready, just in case. He always had a gun in his car for emergencies, and this was an emergency.

“Alec? Alec?” he called, but Marc got no answer. His heart was beating too fast as he searched room after room, and Marc began to panic when he couldn’t find Alec. He searched until there was only one area left, and that was the basement. Marc slowly descended the stairs that led to the basement, and the smell that greeted him made him almost vomit. He knew that smell; it was the smell of death. Marc stopped because he didn’t want to go any further.

Marc didn’t know how long he had been standing on the stairs before he forced his feet to move. He didn’t want to, but Marc knew that he needed to check the basement, and it looked normal, except for the pungent stench. The door to the wine cellar was closed, and Marc instinctively knew that it was where he would find Alec. Marc also knew that if it really was Alec in there, then he was dead.

The stench was almost unbearable, and Marc didn’t want to open the door, he really didn’t, but Marc knew he had to do it because what other choice did he have? So, he slowly opened the door; the room was dark, and the smell that reached his nose made Marc’s stomach turn. He switched on the light and couldn’t breathe because the sight that greeted him was the stuff from nightmares. Alec, his Alec, was hanging upside down. They had slid his throat, and the pool of blood that was beneath Alec told Marc all that he needed to know. Whoever had killed Alec had let him bleed out, like a pig, so his death would be slow and painful. Also, Alec was beaten badly. Marc knew it was Alec because he knew his partner’s body posture and the clothes he wore. So, there was no doubt that this was Alec.

Marc collapsed because it felt like he couldn’t breathe; his stomach turned, and he emptied its contents in the corner of the room. Then, he looked up to the ceiling and screamed and cried until there were no tears left. Marc didn’t know for how long he was on his knees, crying, but finally, he managed to take a good look at Alec. Whoever had killed the love of his life had let him suffer; it was written on his face, from what Marc could see anyway. He took a few deep breaths and let calm enter his body. Marc had learned to control his body and mind when he was living in Japan. That was before he met and fell in love with Alec.

Marc was an excellent hitman, but to become an even better one, he had moved to Japan for four years. It was there that he had learned to control his body and mind to perfection. In addition, the samurai training he had endured for several years had prevented Marc from losing his mind after seeing Alec hanging upside-down.

Marc crawled up the stairs because he had to get fresh air, and once outside, he called the police because his partner was murdered. It was what Marc had to do, to call it in because there was no reason not to. Someone had murdered the love of his life, and even though Marc knew that he would go after the killer himself, he needed to call the cops to report the murder. Only when Marc reported it; he

would be able to give his beloved Alec the burial that he deserved. The thought to make Alec’s body disappear had crossed Marc’s mind, but this was the love of his life, and he would get a decent burial.

Even though Marc was desperate to lower Alec to the floor, he knew that the cops needed the crime scene to be, intact. How he stayed so coherent, Marc didn’t know; it was probably sheer willpower.

Marc knew that he needed to keep his emotions in check, so he would be able to start with his search to find the person responsible for Alec’s death as soon as possible. He would grieve after he killed the scum who murdered the love of his life.

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Marc stood in the living room from what once had been his sanctuary. Most furniture was gone, sold, and some things were in storage. Marc wasn’t sure if he ever would use them again, but he wouldn’t sell them since he wasn’t sure. The new owner had wanted to buy the house with the existing furniture, but Marc had declined. Also, he didn’t know who had bought the estate, and Marc didn’t care. All that he wanted now was to leave and start a new life, a life without Alec.

Marc still had no idea of how to pull that off. He always thought that he was the one who would die first because, well, he was the one who lived the dangerous life, not Alec. Marc glanced around; he felt empty. First, however, he needed to check the complete house to assure himself that there was no trace of him left behind.

Two hours later, Marc walked out the door for the last time. He had an appointment to drop off the keys at the real estate office that had sold the house. It had taken more than two weeks before Marc was permitted to enter his house again. The first thing that Marc had done was hiring a cleaning crew to take care of the basement. After that, Marc had hired a team to sell most of the furniture and put the rest into storage until he knew what he wanted to do with the stuff that mostly had belonged to Alec.

To Marc’s astonishment, he had sold the estate within a week after putting it on the market. He should have been suspicious, but Marc didn’t care; all he wanted was to leave his old life behind and start over. The real estate manager had shown Marc a beautiful estate at the outskirts of a small town called Madison Valley. Marc had never heard of it, but it seemed nice enough. Since he had to buy another house, why not in Madison Valley?

Chapter One

Three years later

Marc parked the car in front of the cast-iron gate. He didn’t exit the vehicle but kept staring at the gate. Marc sighed; before he finally opened the door and climbed out of the car. It had been a long time since he had visited Alec’s grave.

Marc had just returned from his first assignment since Alec’s death. Even though it had been three years, he had no problem executing the hit on some scumbag. It had felt good, and he felt the urge to talk to Alec about it; well, that wasn’t possible anymore. It had been six months ago that Marc last visited Alec’s grave. He missed him so much, even after three years. But the man was dead, and Marc knew that he needed to get his life back on track again, which meant that it was better not to visit Alec’s grave anymore. It didn’t mean that he had to forget Alec had ever existed; Marc knew that he would never forget Alec. For three years, Marc had mourned the loss of his partner, he would always carry Alec in his heart, but now, it was time to move on. Alec was dead; Marc wasn’t, it might sound heartless, but really, it wasn’t.

Alec and Marc had talked a lot about death because death was part of life. Without it, there would be no life possible. People lived, and then they died; some would meet death much too early. Some of them died a violent death, but in the end, everyone faced the same fate.

Even though it hurt, and Marc didn’t want to, he said goodbye and knew that this would be the last time he visited Alec’s grave. A broken Marc left the cemetery, slid behind the wheel of his rental, and sat for a long time staring at the cast-iron gate again. He didn’t cry; even though he felt like he was losing Alec all over again, it was something that he hadn’t expected.

Marc didn’t know how long he had been sitting in his car in front of the cemetery before he came to his senses. He backed out of the parking lot and drove to the airport to catch a flight home to Madison Valley.

Marc smiled when the gates opened and the mansion came in sight. Several acres of land surrounded the house, so there were no direct neighbors. Marc had been lucky because he had bought the estate before it had hit the market. Even though it was called an estate, the house wasn’t that big. It had five bedrooms, all with adjacent bathrooms: a spacious living room, a sunroom, and a huge kitchen. Marc had two studies, one was opposite the living room, and the second was in the basement. There was only one room left that still was empty, and he was in no hurry to change that any time soon.

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 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 ed 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 , 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 ed 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 itted. 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 itted, 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 stepped 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.

“No no no no no,” he whispered as he left the desk and ran after the two EMTs. They all knew Bailey, so no one stopped him when he ran into the treatment room. It was Doctor Michael Reynolds who finally stopped him from approaching the gurney. “Stop, Bailey. What’s the matter?” Doctor Michael asked while the medical staff started working on the patient.

“That’s Brendan,” Bailey wasn’t capable of saying anything else as he watched in horror when Brendan went into cardiac arrest. This wasn’t happening; it just wasn’t happening. He must be having a nightmare. Had he fallen asleep during work? “Get him out of here,” Doctor Michael yelled suddenly. Before Bailey knew it, he was grabbed and taken out of the treatment room.

Bailey struggled to make his way into the room again, but two big strong staff held him tightly. “Let me back in. That’s my brother in there,” he yelled. Bailey was held tight, but they didn’t hurt him, even though he struggled to free himself. He needed to get into the room again. His brother needed him.

“Please, Bailey, stop struggling before you hurt yourself,” said the man who held his left arm. “NO,” Bailey yelled. “You don’t understand. That’s my brother in there; he needs me,” he was crying now. “Bailey, you need to calm down and let the doctors work. If you do not calm down, we will give you a mild sedative,” the man who held his right arm said.

Bailey stopped struggling because he didn’t want to be sedated. Even though he knew that the two men who held him meant well, but right now, he hated them with a ion. It took some time and a lot of effort until Bailey got his breathing under control. “We will let you go now, but Bailey, please don’t go into that room. If you do, then we need to sedate you, and we really don’t want to do that,” said the man who held his right arm. Bailey knew the two guys, and they were always nice and treated him with respect. Still, right now, he didn’t think that they were pleasant at all, but he relented because he wanted to stay close to his brother.

Bailey knew that if he tried to get into the room anyway, they would remove him altogether. Then, he had to wait in the family room, which wasn’t an option. Bailey knew that they cut him some slack by letting him stay directly in front of the treatment room. People who weren’t staff didn’t even get this far; they had to wait in the family room until the doctor had time to talk to them.

“Bailey?” Keith Aldridge came running around the corner. Bailey stood, and Keith hugged him tightly. Keith Aldridge was Bailey’s best friend, even though they knew each other for only five months. “How did you know?” Bailey whispered. “Sandra called me. She thought that you needed a friend.” Keith gently pushed Bailey at arms-length. “Honey, do you know what happened? I heard that Brendan was injured in a car accident,” he said in a soothing tone.

“No, I only know that he is critical, but Brendan will be okay. He will pull through; he just has to,” Bailey whispered. Keith urged Bailey to sit down again. He held his hand and gently rubbed Bailey’s back. Keith stayed silent because he

had no clue what to say.

“Bailey? Buddy, wake up,” Keith gently shook Bailey’s shoulders. Bailey opened his eyes and jumped bolt upright from the uncomfortable plastic chair. He must have fallen asleep. “How is Brendan?” Bailey croaked. The look in Doctor Michael’s eyes told Bailey what he didn’t want to hear. Doctor Michael sighed. “I’m so sorry, Bailey, but.” Bailey felt like he couldn’t breathe. Doctor Michael, calling for assistance, was the last thing Bailey heard; the room tilted, and then his world went black.

Chapter Three

Marc had forced himself to turn the key, start the car, and drive away from the flower shop. What was it with this guy? He had felt an instant attraction, and that wasn’t like him. Marc didn’t do instant attraction.

He pushed the button, the gate opened, and Marc drove up to the mansion, parked the car in front of the house, and stayed in the vehicle for a while, lost in his thoughts. After about ten minutes, he climbed out of the vehicle, took the two bags with groceries, and walked up to the house. Marc opened the front door, stepped inside, strode into the kitchen, put the car keys on the kitchen counter, and put the groceries away. Then he opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. Marc unscrewed the bottle on his way to the study; he needed more information about this man who claimed to be Bailey Hudson.

He sat down behind his desk and fired up his laptop, the one that wasn’t connected to the internet. Even though the internet could be helpful in getting information about someone, it was dangerous and treacherous. It allowed others to hack your computer and take control. That person could see, change, and all your files, and that’s why the internet wasn’t an option for this particular laptop; this one had his assignments on it.

Marc pulled up the file from his last case before Alec was murdered three years ago. A wave of guilt flowed over him at the thought of his dead partner and his attraction for Bailey Hudson. “Bailey Hudson,” Marc whispered as he watched the picture of what appeared Bailey Hudson on his laptop. “Who are you? Why are you still breathing? You should be dead because I put a bullet in your head,” Marc whispered to the screen that showed a huge picture of Bailey Hudson’s face. Well, he was planning on getting to know this man who called himself Bailey Hudson. To Marc, there was no doubt that the picture of the man on the screen and the flower shop owner were one and the same.

Marc’s phone rang, but he let it go to voice mail when he saw that it was Celia,

his sister. “Not now, sis,” he said to the empty room. Marc knew that he needed a strategy to get to know Bailey. He sighed because he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to the flower shop owner. This was wrong on so many levels.

The phone rang again, and Marc sighed when he saw that it was Celia, again. What was it with her? His family never ed him, and that was precisely the way he liked it. Marc let it go to voice mail again; he would listen to the message when he felt like it. The Blake Clan had practically banished him after he told them that he liked men instead of women.

Blake Senior had tried to disinherit his oldest son, but Marc’s grandfather had put a clause in his will. It said that Marcus Blake Senior only could inherit and keep the family business if his oldest child would inherit it after him. The moment that Blake Senior would cut his oldest child off, he would lose control of the family business, and Marc would get everything. It was a complicated clause, and at that time, no one had understood. Now all of Marc’s siblings and his parents did understand.

Marc read the file he had on Fabian Copely, the man with the blond curls and the big green eyes, and shook his head. He was getting confused, and that wasn’t like him. “Why aren’t you dead? Who are you?” Marc whispered to the man with the big green eyes that gazed back at him from the computer screen. Well, only one way to find out, Marc had to do a background check on Bailey Hudson.

A look at his wristwatch let Marc know that it was already after ten o’clock. He sighed as he grabbed his phone to check his voicemail. Why had his sister called him? It was the only member of the family that he’d stayed in with.

Marc pressed the button to listen to the voicemail. “Marc? It’s Celia. The reason that I call you is to let you know that our mother is very sick, and she wants to

see you. Please me as soon as you hear this message.” Marc frowned; why would his mother want to see him? How ill was she? Was she dying? The second message was the same as the first one. Marc debated if he would call right away but decided against it. He would his sister in the morning.

Marc poured himself a whiskey and strode into the living room. He sat down and grabbed the remote control, and zapped until he found a documentary about archeology. However, he wasn’t able to concentrate; his thoughts continued to wander off toward the flower shop owner. Marc rose from his chair and went into the study again. Something was bothering him, and that drove him mad. So, he fired up his laptop again and clicked on Fabian Copely ‘s file. Fabian looked exactly like Bailey Hudson; still, something was different. Was there really a difference, or was it wishful thinking because he was attracted to the man. He shut his laptop once again and went into the living room.

Marc sat in the chair in front of the window, which offered a great view of the beautiful garden. However, it was night, and the garden was cloaked in darkness. Marc was a hard ass, but he also respected nature. If the garden were illuminated at night, then it would disturb the nightlife. The garden of the manor was all about animals. That meant no lights in the night. Marc had installed floodlights just in case of intruders. Well, safety first.

Marc sighed as he stood and grabbed another bottled mineral water out of the fridge. When he returned to the living room, his phone signaled that he had a message. Marc sighed when he saw that it was another message from his sister. He put the phone back on the table. This was getting ridiculous; what the hell did she want? Well, there was only one way to find out; Marc grabbed his cell phone again and dialed his sister’s number.

Celia answered on the first ring. “Marc, finally. What took you so long?” Celia sounded irritated. “Well, hello to you too, sis. So, tell me, how is mother doing?” Marc asked matter of factly. “Marc? Mother is dying. She is holding on because

she wants to see you. We don’t know how long she has. That she still is breathing is sheer willpower. Marc, please, come home,” Celia begged. “Alright. I’ll take the first flight out,” Marc promised. “Thank you. Thank you,” Celia whispered. Marc ended the call and called the airline.

Marc was in luck; the next flight out was in two hours. He went upstairs and packed his carry-on. Marc wanted to book a hotel, but on second thought, he decided against it. Celia would have his head. They would expect him to stay at the Blake Estate.

Marc entered the plane, put his carry-on in the overhead compartment, and sat down. He had a window seat and was in luck when the seat beside him stayed empty. Marc leaned back and closed his eyes; he didn’t sleep, though. He never slept on the plane. Marc was the first enger who exited the plane after landing. He rushed outside and immediately saw his sister. Well, one couldn’t miss Celia Blake; she stood next to a red Ford Mustang convertible. She smiled and waved when she spotted her brother. Marc walked toward Celia, and they hugged. Marc put his small suitcase on the back seat and climbed into the car. Celia started the vehicle and carefully eased the car into the traffic.

“Why did it take so long for you to call back?” Celia questioned while her eyes stayed on the road. “I was busy,” Marc replied vaguely. Celia eyed him for a second before she had her eyes on the road again. They drove in silence to the Blake Estate. Marc had hated the house from day one. He had only been nine years old when they had moved into the house that he called a monstrosity. When they drove through the massive, wrought iron gate, Marc got that same feeling again he had when seeing the house for the first time. Yep, it was still a monstrosity.

“You still dislike the house that much?” Celia chuckled. Marc’s smile was rueful; Celia had always been very perceptive. “Well, anyway, welcome home,” she said cheerfully. Marc didn’t reply because, to him, the house had never been

home. The front door opened, and someone Marc didn’t know greeted them. He assumed that it was the butler. Another servant hurried their way and took Marc and Celia’s coat. Marc frowned; Celia chuckled. “You never liked it,” Celia said, meaning the servant who took their coats. “I still don’t like it. I can put away my own coat,” he replied.

“Leave your things here; Dahlia will bring them to your room,” Celia said as she pointed to the massive marble stairs that led to the second floor, where most of the bedrooms were. The mansion had a third floor where Celia had her quarters. As far as Marc knew, Celia was the only one who still lived at home. She also acted as the lady of the house because Mrs. Blake was very sick.

Marc didn’t leave his luggage unattended, not even in his parents’ house. Celia frowned but didn’t say anything. Together they went up the stairs. “Put your things in your room first,” Celia said. “Your old room is still intact,” Celia informed him. Marc went left to where his room was. It was weird, so freaking weird. He stepped inside the room and was amazed that there was no dust, the bed had fresh sheets, and the window stood slightly ajar.

Marc put his luggage on the bed, and then he ed his sister again. It didn’t surprise him that his father wasn’t there to welcome him home. Marc chuckled at the thought of his father greeting him. The old man would rather cut off his arm than greet his gay son.

Marc stopped when they ed the master bedroom. Celia motioned for him to follow her, so Marc did. They were now entering the west wing. Damn, he had forgotten how big the house was. “Mother is in the west wing?” Marc asked because he couldn’t believe it. Just how sick was his mother because she would never have agreed to be put in the west wing. She didn’t like the west wing, but then, she too had hated the house from day one.

Marc’s father, Marcus Blake Senior, had bought the house without asking his wife. It was typical; the man never asked for anyone’s opinion, not even his wife’s. Joyce Blake had always given in, even when the old man had tried to disinherit Marc.

“Her room has all the equipment that it needs to keep her as comfortable as possible. The west wing is perfect for what she needs,” Celia explained. Marc didn’t buy her story for one moment. It was obvious that his father was behind it. He didn’t like sick people, not even if it concerned his own family. Yep, the old man was still a rat bastard.

Celia stopped and turned. “Listen. Mother is dying. I didn’t lie about that. We don’t know how much time she has left. The doctors are amazed that she still is breathing,” Celia said in a soft voice. “Please, Marc, whatever you do, don’t upset her.” “I won’t,” Marc promised. “Did she say why she wanted to see me?” he asked. Celia shook her head. “No, only that she insisted that you come to see her,” Celia said, then she opened the door. Marc waited for Celia to step into the room, but she stayed where she was. “Mother wanted to talk to you alone,” she whispered as she gently pushed him into the room.

Chapter Four

Marc slowly approached his mother. He glanced at all the equipment that surrounded the bed. Well, at least she wasn’t on a respirator, although that machine was in the room. Marc was shocked to see a small, fragile person lying in this huge bed. Joyce Blake had her eyes closed, and Marc was about to turn and quietly leave the room when his mother suddenly opened her eyes.

She lifted her arm as if reaching for her son. “Marcus? You came,” Joyce whispered, and she sounded so weak. “Hello, mom,” Marc said in a soft voice. He grabbed a chair and placed it next to the bed. Marc was careful when he took his mother’s hand. Joyce didn’t have a free hand because IV needles were stuck in both of her hands. Even Joyce’s smile was weak. Marc felt a sadness inside him because Celia had not exaggerated. His mother was dying. What angered Marc most was that his father had distanced himself from his wife.

Marc knew that now was not the time to talk about his father. “Are you comfortable, mom? Are you in any kind of pain?” Marc questioned gently. Joyce shook her head. “No, sweetie. They stuff me full of pain medication and morphine, I think,” she whispered. “Morphine? That’s heavy,” Marc replied; he was still holding his mother’s hand. “I’m so glad that you’re here. We need to talk,” she said. Marc cocked his head. “No, we don’t need to talk. It would be best if you rested because you must be tired,” he soothed.

Joyce’s eyes grew wide, and Marc was all too familiar with the look that she gave him. “I asked Celia to skip the medication when she told me that you were coming,” she paused because she needed a few minutes to gain enough strength to continue. “I need a clear head for what I’m going to tell you,” she said out of breath, even though her voice was sounding much stronger now. Marc was getting confused; what the hell was going on?

“I’m dying, and I want to let you know that I changed my will,” Joyce Blake paused again, and Marc could tell that his mother was having difficulty

breathing. “Easy, mom. Why don’t you sleep for a while? I’m not going anywhere,” Marc soothed. “No!” Joyce tried to squeeze Marc’s hand, but she was too weak. “Alright, I’m listening,” Marc gave in because he didn’t want to upset his mother even more.

“My dear son, when I’m gone, you will inherit my fortune.” Before Marc could respond, Joyce continued. “Marc, I’m dying, I’m not sick, but it’s murder.” Joyce gasped for breath. “I must warn you. Your.” Joyce didn’t finish because her heart had stopped beating. Marc called his sister into the room. “Marc? For God’s sake, what happened?” Celia cried out. “She’s gone,” Marc said. Celia didn’t look shocked; she knew that her mother had lived on borrowed time.

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 ed 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 , 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 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 youngest 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 . 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 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 ed 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 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.

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 was 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 ed 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 itted.

“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 . 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 ed 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 ed 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.

Chapter Eight

“I made you a sandwich,” Keith softly said. Bailey shook his head; he wasn’t hungry. How could he eat when his brother was murdered? Anger rose inside Bailey when he glared at Keith. “Can you eat? Well, I can’t. My brother was murdered, and you start about food? You’re calling yourself my friend?” Bailey was yelling now, tears streaming down his face. Keith just sat there and let Bailey throw out all the anger that he felt right now. Keith knew that it was important that Bailey expressed his emotions and not bottled them up inside him.

Right now, Bailey was angry; that was the second stage of grieve. The first was denial, and Bailey had denied it when Doctor Michael had told him that Brendan had died. Bailey had gone ballistic and had told the doctor that he must be wrong because Brendan would never leave him, never. Doctor Michael had no other option than to sedate Bailey to keep the man from harming himself.

Bailey was angry, furious, but whatever happened, Keith would be there to pick up the pieces. He would not abandon his friend; he couldn’t. So now Bailey was home, and Keith had packed the things he would need in the coming days because he stayed at Bailey’s apartment as well. Bailey had protested at first, but then he had given in. Keith suspected that Bailey didn’t have the strength to go against him, which suited him perfectly.

Keith knew that he had to talk to Bailey about making the funeral arrangements, but he didn’t have a clue of how to start that conversation. It didn’t matter from what angle he looked at it; Keith didn’t know how to bring up the conversation about Brendan’s funeral.

Keith was startled when Bailey suddenly said, “I need to make the arrangements for Brendan’s funeral. I want to give him a decent burial,” he looked up at Keith, “Will you help me? Because I don’t know if I have the strength to make all the arrangements.”

“Of course I’ll help you, Bailey. Just let me know what you want me to do, and I will do it,” Keith was relieved that Bailey had started to talk about Brendan’s funeral. Bailey stared in front of him again. Then, after a few minutes had ed, he handed Keith a piece of paper. Keith frowned but took the offered piece of paper.

After reading it, he looked at Bailey and asked, “When did he write this?” “A while ago. Just so you know, I have one too. It’s in the sock draw in my bedroom,” Bailey answered without making eye . It worried Keith that Bailey kept staring into space; this wasn’t good. For a minute, he considered calling Doctor Michael but then dismissed the idea just as fast as it had come. Bailey didn’t need more doctors right now. Bailey stood, swayed, and then he went down, hard. Keith was not fast enough to prevent Bailey from hitting the floor. He cursed as he called Doctor Michael.

“Thank God. Thank you for coming,” Keith said as he stepped aside to let the doctor enter Bailey’s apartment. Doctor Michael nodded and followed Keith to the bedroom, where Bailey still was lying unconscious on the floor. “Why didn’t you call the hospital?” the doctor questioned as he opened his medical bag and began examining Bailey. “Bailey doesn’t need another hospital ittance. I had to promise him that I would call you if something happened, and he would need a doctor,” Keith explained.

When Doctor Michael finished examining Bailey, he and Keith lifted the still unconscious man onto the bed. “What’s wrong with him?” a worried Keith questioned. Doctor Michael sighed. “It looks like Bailey is overwhelmed with grieve and that he isn’t handling it well. He needs to be watched around the clock. I will prescribe something that will keep him calm.” Doctor Michael held up his hand when Keith opened his mouth to protest. “I know how Bailey feels about this kind of medication, but please, try to persuade him to take the medication,” Doctor Michael urged.

Now it was Keith’s turn to sigh, which he did. “I will do my best, but you know him maybe even better than I do. I won’t force him or hide it in his food. He needs to take them voluntarily,” Keith insisted. “That’s all I can ask for,” Doctor Michael said. “Now, I could use some coffee because I will wait until Bailey opens his eyes again,” Doctor Michael smiled. Keith smiled back; how could he not?

******

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Bailey whispered as he looked at himself in the mirror. Keith had bought him a black suit with a crisp white shirt and shiny, new black shoes. He had helped Bailey get dressed because Bailey hadn’t cared; the man looked like he was on drugs. It looked like the man had closed himself off from each and every one. Keith was worried because Bailey hadn’t shown any emotion after ing out the previous day.

Bailey should cry and scream his grieve and sorrow to the heavens, but the man just sat in his favorite chair and stared into nothing. Brendan had been dead for three days now, and it seemed that Bailey couldn’t cope with the loss. Keith thought he knew how close the brothers had been, but now he knew that he had underestimated the bond between them. He only hoped that Brendan’s death wouldn’t destroy Bailey. Keith felt at a loss of how to help his friend, he felt powerless, and it was a feeling that he didn’t like.

******

“Someone was murdered a few days ago. Poor guy,” Byron said as he placed the newspaper back on the table. Marc frowned. “Let me see the article,” he said.

Byron handed his brother the newspaper, and Marc started to read the news article; it was front-page news. “Brendan Hudson, the owner of Vintage Treasures, was killed when the car in which he drove exploded. The car in which Brendan drove belonged to his younger brother, Bailey Hudson.” Marc forgot to breathe. Had someone placed a bomb under Bailey’s car? Why? Instead of Bailey, it had been Brendan who had driven the car when the damn thing went off?

What was it with that guy? Did he have nine lives, or what? Marc was sure that he had killed this child molesting bastard, but apparently, he had survived. Marc wanted to dismiss that thought, but he couldn’t. What if he had missed and just wounded the man? Marc pressed his lips together; he had to know who Bailey was. Even though he didn’t trust his little brother entirely yet, he knew that he needed to involve him in his investigation. Byron was a whiz with computers, and he was the best hacker Marc knew.

Marc was in doubt. Should he go and see how Bailey was doing? Should he go to the funeral that would take place this afternoon? Marc was indecisive, and that wasn’t like him, and he didn’t like it. “Is something wrong?” Byron questioned as he put his e-reader aside.

Marc hesitated for a second; then, he decided that he had to trust his little brother. So, Marc told Byron about his meeting with Bailey and that he liked the man. He didn’t say anything about the fact that Bailey should have been dead because he had killed him with a bullet right between the eyes. Marc was sure that he had shot and killed Fabian Copely; still, he needed to know all there was to know about Bailey and Brendan Hudson. So, he decided to be straight-to-thepoint with Byron and asked him to do a thorough background check on the Hudson brothers.

“So, you’ll do it? Look into the backgrounds of Bailey and Brendan?” Marc asked. “It would be my pleasure,” Byron grinned. “What do you need to get

started?” Marc asked because he would buy Byron what he needed to do a background check on the Hudson Brothers. “I have all that I need right here. Well, right there,” Byron pointed his finger to the ceiling. Marc smiled; he should have known that his little brother had taken his laptops and other stuff with him when they left the Blake Estate.

Byron rose from his chair and strode out of the room. Marc didn’t need to ask where Byron was heading because he knew that his baby brother immediately started the background check on Bailey and Brendan.

Chapter Nine

Today was Brendan’s funeral, and Marc had decided to attend because he was curious who would be there. However, he knew that Bailey wouldn’t understand him being there. Marc had decided, for himself, that he needed to see everyone who attended the funeral because the one who had placed the bomb would be there as well, of that he was sure. Those thugs often attended the funeral of their victims. Marc didn’t know many of the residents, but he could faces like no other. So, he would attend but keep his distance during the burial and memorize every face. Byron would take pictures of all those at the funeral, just in case they needed them.

Marc slowly drove past the flower shop, but it was closed, as he had expected. He got out of the car and searched for a note that let customers know when the shop would re-open again. The assassin was surprised to see no indication when the flower shop would open its doors again. That was strange; he knew that Bailey must be full of grieve because he lost his brother in the worst possible way, but still.

Marc got back in the car again and drove to the cemetery where he knew he would find Bailey. Byron was already there, and Marc ignored his brother when he stood beside a tree and watched the people arrive. There were many residents; most he didn’t know. Then, he spotted Bailey; in the company of another man. Could he be the boyfriend? Marc knew that Bailey was gay the minute he had seen the young man.

Marc observed Keith because his gut feeling told him that something was off that something just was not right. The way he behaved, the man could have been Bailey’s bodyguard. He shielded Bailey from some people, and others got his permission to be around Bailey. That was odd, very odd indeed.

Bailey himself didn’t seem to notice his surroundings and how his friend, or whoever he was, protected him. Bailey was pale, and Marc thought that the man

even had lost weight. There were several speakers, but Marc was too far away to hear them.

When the coffin was finally lowered, Marc saw Bailey going down, but the friend was in time to catch him. He lifted Bailey in his arms and strode away; they were followed by another man, who talked rapidly to the one who had Bailey in his arms.

Marc was confused; who were these people? And why was this one man so protective of Bailey? However, Marc was there to observe the people who attended the funeral. How he knew, Marc didn’t know, but he turned his head and saw two men standing behind another tree. They, too, were observing the people who had come to pay their respects.

That was weird; Marc looked intently at the two men so he wouldn’t forget their faces. Both men had dark hair, were around 6 feet, maybe 6 feet two, but no taller. He didn’t know them; could they be residents, as well? If so, then why not mingle with the others? But, no, those two weren’t residents of that Marc was almost sure.

Marc had seen enough, turned, and walked toward his car. Byron was already waiting for him. When he had reached his car, he turned his head and gazed straight into the eyes of the man who had carried Bailey away from Brendan’s grave. The man’s eyes were cold, and there was something else, something that Marc couldn’t put his finger on. The assassin was on high alert when he saw cold, flat eyes look back at him. Marc nodded in greeting, but the man didn’t react; he didn’t even blink. Who the hell was that guy? That was so not good, Marc thought.

Marc had memorized the man’s face, and he would see if he could get a name by

that face. He smiled because that was a job for his baby brother. Byron had taken pictures of the attendees and even of the two men who had hidden behind the tree. Marc wasn’t only a hitman; he was, as many called it, a ghost. He could blend in perfectly; people wouldn’t him. That’s why Marc was sure that the two men behind the tree hadn’t seen him.

Marc climbed into the car and drove away from the cemetery. Byron was with his own vehicle. Marc hadn’t seen Bailey after he was carried away. The more Marc thought about Brendan’s death, the more questions arose, and he didn’t like it. Who were the two men that had hidden behind the tree? And, who was that person who had carried Bailey to the car? And the man that had followed them, who was he? Questions, questions, questions.

Then, Marc ed that he needed to buy groceries if he wanted a homecooked meal tonight. So he drove to the mall and parked the vehicle near the flower shop because the grocery store was right around the corner from Bailey’s flower shop.

Marc was carrying two paper bags with groceries and was happy to find everything on Byron’s list. Carrying the two bags, he stopped dead when he saw the car from the cemetery stop next to his vehicle. The man with the cold eyes opened the door and got out; a moment later, the other door opened, and a palelooking Bailey climbed slowly out of the car.

Marc could tell that the man was broken, and he felt his anger rise. Marc felt angry on Bailey’s behalf, and he didn’t like it because he still was investigating the man. He had to be sure if Bailey was indeed the child molester that he supposedly had killed. If so, then he would finish the job right then and there.

Neither of the two men seemed to notice Marc, which was precisely how he

liked it. When Bailey and his companion disappeared inside the building, Marc continued his way to the car. He put the groceries on the backseat and slid behind the wheel. He glanced up to where he knew Bailey’s apartment was, and when he didn’t see movement, Marc started the engine and backed out of the parking lot.

“Honey, I’m home,” Marc joked when he entered the house. “Did you get everything on the list, baby?” Byron giggled. “I did,” Marc proudly replied as he put the two bags on the kitchen countertop. “Alright, then I will cook us a nice meal tonight,” Byron promised. Marc had asked what was on the menu for dinner, but Byron hadn’t told him. So, he didn’t need to ask again because Marc knew that he wouldn’t get an answer.

“Did you find out anything about Bailey Hudson?” Marc inquired when they both sat down in the living room after unpacking the groceries. Byron grinned. “I was afraid that you forgot about that. Yes, I have.” Byron held up his hand to stop Marc from interrupting him. “But, it’s not much,” he added hastily. “What do you mean by that?” “Come, and I’ll show you,” Byron stood and motioned for Marc to follow him.

Byron sat in front of his computer and typed rapidly on the keyboard, opening several windows. Marc blinked because what the hell was this? He was familiar with the internet, but this was chaos. “What am I looking at?” Marc softly questioned.

Byron began to explain. “Bailey moved to Madison Valley three years ago. For two and a half years, he worked at Vintage Treasures, a local antique shop owned by Brendan Hudson, Bailey’s brother. Bailey opened the Flower Hut about six months ago. His best friend is, was his brother, Brendan. Then there is a person called Keith Aldridge; he seems always to be there. Especially if Bailey needs help with whatever.” Byron glanced up at his brother.

“Where did Bailey live before he moved here?” Marc inquired because this wasn’t a coincidence. Three years ago, Marc had killed Fabian Copely, the man that looked exactly like Bailey Hudson.

“You see, that’s strange because I can’t find anything else about the man. It seems that Bailey Hudson was born three years ago; it doesn’t go any further than that.” Byron eyed his brother. “What’s going on? Why are you interested in this Bailey person?” Byron questioned. Marc could see that his baby brother was serious and expected an answer from him.

“You didn’t tell me what you do for a living. How do you earn your money? You must have an excellent paying job to afford a mansion like this,” Byron said suddenly. Marc now knew that he had underestimated his little brother big-time, shit. “I can’t tell you what I do for a living, not right now.” Marc paused because he didn’t want to tell Byron that he didn’t trust him just yet.

“You don’t trust me yet,” Byron softly said. Marc nodded. “I wish I could because you are my brother, but.” “Even though we are brothers, we don’t know each other that well. We’re not close because we didn’t grow up together, and for years I was under the control of our father. So, you question my loyalty. Believe it not, but I understand, and I’m not angry,” Byron said, and to Marc, it seemed that the man was sincere.

“I’m sorry, Byron,” Marc said as he lightly squeezed his younger brother’s shoulder. Byron smiled, and it was a real one. The man wasn’t angry, Marc could tell, but that didn’t change the fact that Byron was practically a stranger. Trust was earned and not given; Byron knew that.

“I need more time, but whatever Bailey is hiding, I will unravel his secrets. I’m curious now, too,” Byron grinned. Marc smiled; Byron had always been curious; he always wanted to investigate things, like Sherlock Holmes. Now he was a computer whiz, which could come in very handy, but first, Marc had to know if he could trust his little brother.

Blake Senior had influenced his youngest son to the max, and Marc wasn’t sure if Byron was entirely free from the man. What if their father ed Byron and pressured him into helping him bring Marc down? Marc shook his head; ever since he had talked to Bailey Hudson, his life had become chaos. No, his brother had moved in, and as much as he wanted to trust the guy, it was still too early.

Chapter Ten

“It’s harder than I thought it would be. Whoever changed the man’s identity is good, very good,” said a frustrated Byron. It was a week after Brendan’s funeral, and Byron still tried to find out more about Bailey Hudson, but he hit wall, after wall, after wall. “I need to get out of the house for a while,” Byron said as he shut down his computer. “That’s an excellent idea, little brother,” Marc said, and he meant it. Byron hadn’t left the mansion in over a week, and that wasn’t healthy.

Marc planned on going out, too. He would visit the Flower Hut to see if Bailey had opened the shop again. Marc wanted to talk to the man, check if he was alright, and see for himself that the man was okay? Now, where had that come from? Marc still planned on treating Bailey with caution. If it turned out that Bailey actually was Fabian, Marc would have to kill him, again. So, he would, emotionally, keep his distance, which shouldn’t be that difficult. If there was one thing that Marc was good at, it was keeping his emotions in check. Marc had lost it only once, and that was when he had found Alec hanging upside-down in the basement of his previous mansion.

Marc slowed the car and gazed at the shop in front of him. It appeared that the Flower Hut was open for business again. He parked the vehicle, but doubt filled him when he was about to get out of the car. Marc finally opened the door and climbed out of the vehicle. He pushed the front door open and stepped inside the flower shop.

Marc searched the shop for Bailey, but he saw another man instead. He had seen this one before, this man had been at Brendan’s funeral, and he had lifted Bailey in his arms after he collapsed. “Can I help you?” the man asked as he stepped from behind the counter. “I hope so. I’m looking for Bailey Hudson,” Marc said in a friendly tone.

Suddenly the man didn’t look so friendly anymore. “Who are you, and why are

you looking for Bailey?” he questioned. Marc explained that he had met Bailey the previous week and had heard about Brendan’s death. “I wanted to see how he is doing,” Marc finally said.

“Bailey is doing fine; he is resting right now and doesn’t want to be disturbed.” The man eyed him intently, and then he said, “There’s something about you. I don’t like you, and I recommend that you stay away from Bailey.” The man’s tone was downright hostile.

Marc was stunned; this wasn’t what he had expected. Who was this man to make decisions for Bailey like that? “Well, don’t you think that it’s up to Bailey if he wants to see me or not?” Marc replied in a calm, neutral tone. “No, it’s not up to Bailey; it’s up to me. And I want you gone. I don’t like you, Mr. Blake,” said the man.

So, this man knew who he was; it wasn’t really shocking because his family was well known. Marc sighed, and he decided to let it go, for now, because he had a feeling that he wouldn’t win this one. This man was close with Bailey; it seemed that Bailey trusted this man. So, Marc had no other choice than to leave and return later when Bailey himself was at the shop.

Marc was on his way out when he turned, eyed the man, and said, “Well, you know my name, will you tell me yours?” The man smiled, but the smile was gone as fast and as unexpected as it had come. “Keith,” he answered.

Well, that was it; he didn’t want to, but Marc couldn’t do anything else but leave. At least he had a name. When Marc stepped outside, he nearly bumped into Byron. “Hey, little brother, what are you doing here?” Marc hadn’t expected to bump into his brother. Byron didn’t seem fazed; he smiled. “I just had a job interview at Captain Jack’s,” he replied.

“Isn’t that the restaurant that’s located on the other side of the mall?” “Yep, they have an opening for a cook. So, I thought, I might give it a try,” Byron replied, smiling. Marc smiled too because he knew how much his baby brother liked to cook. Plus, Marc knew firsthand how good Byron was behind the stove. Hell, the man had created his very own recipes.

“How long before they let you know?” “In a few days,” Byron answered as they walked toward Marc’s car. Marc turned his head because he felt that he was being watched, and he was right. The man he had met in the flower shop stood in front of the window watching him.

“What’s wrong,” Byron immediately knew that something was off. Marc told him about the guy he met in the Flower Hut and how hostile he had been. “He warned you off?” Byron sounded confused. Marc nodded. “That he did. I will let it rest for now because there’s nothing I can do about it,” Marc explained.

“Do you know who he is?” Byron asked; they stood next to Marc’s car now. Marc shook his head. Only that his name is Keith and that he was at Brendan Hudson’s funeral.” “Well, I can try and get his last name, so I can check him out,” Byron said. “We need to know who we are dealing with because it’s not normal that he is so protective of this Bailey guy, right?” a solemn-looking Byron added.

Marc frowned, was this his little brother speaking? Byron was suspicious, and maybe the man was right. Why was Keith so protective of Bailey? “Something is not right; I can feel it,” Byron softly said. Marc looked intently at his brother. “I think that you’re right, and I want to know everything there is to know about this guy. Can you do that?” he said. Byron nodded, and the man actually looked cheerful.

“You have way too much fun, little brother,” Marc chuckled. Then he got serious again. “How are you going to check this guy?” Marc knew his way around the internet, but that was it. “I have developed my own program.” He looked sheepishly when he said, “I only need to hack different systems.” Marc raised one eyebrow. “Such as?” he questioned because this was getting interesting. Marc didn’t really know what Byron was capable of, but he would soon find out.

“You don’t want to know,” Byron said cautiously. “Oh, but I do want to know,” Marc insisted. “Well, I will tell you all about it when we get home,” Byron promised. That was good enough for Marc, and he got into his car. Byron’s vehicle stood a bit further back.

Marc could only think of Bailey and this Keith guy. Why had Keith been so hostile? Marc hoped that Byron would be able to get some info on the guy. Plus, he needed to see Bailey, alone, without Keith. Marc really needed to get to know him to see if Bailey was Fabian Copely. Byron had been right when he’d said that something was off, and Marc wanted to know what that something was.

Marc drove through the gate and saw that Byron was already behind him, good. Both men got out of their cars and walked up to the house. “I’ll be in my room if you need me,” Byron informed Marc. Marc stopped his brother when the man was about to take the stairs to the second floor.

“The room next to my study is available if you want your own office,” Marc offered. Byron smiled. “That would be great. I need more stuff, and my bedroom should stay just that, a bedroom,” Byron replied, grinning. “Then it’s yours,” Marc said and explained that the room even had a lock. Byron had frowned at hearing that the room had a lock. “I don’t need to lock the door, not for you. You are my brother and are entitled to enter my new study any time you want. I don’t have secrets. Well, not from you,” Byron said.

Marc debated inwardly, should he confide in his brother? Should he let Byron in on his secret life? Marc didn’t trust easily and for a good reason. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Byron questioned when Marc kept staring. Marc sighed and decided that it was time that he trusted his little brother. Together, they could make a good team.

“Come with me; we need to talk,” Marc softly said as he motioned for his brother to follow him. Byron frowned and was about to follow his brother when the doorbell rang. Marc went to the intercom to see who was standing in front of the gate. It was a delivery man. After a short conversation, Marc turned to Byron. “It’s a courier, and he has an envelope for you, for which you need to sign,” he said.

Byron left, and a few minutes later, he was back, carrying the manila envelope. “I’ll leave you to it,” Marc was about to walk away so his brother could open the envelope in private, but Byron stopped him. “No, stay,” he said as he tore the envelope open. Byron then read the document and shook his head in disbelief. “What is it?” Marc sounded alarmed. “The old man’s final try to get me back into his claws,” Byron answered as he handed Marc the piece of paper.

Marc shook his head after reading the document. “The bastard. What will you do?” he asked because he had to know where Byron stood. Marcus Blake had just informed Byron that he was removed from the will. He wouldn’t inherit any money or company shares if he didn’t return to the family compound. “Well, I say, to hell with the bastard that calls himself our father,” Byron grinned. “Plus, I don’t need his money,” he added sheepishly. “Oh, do tell,” Marc’s curiosity was aroused.

Byron looked sheepishly when he explained how he had earned good money as a software developer. That Blake Senior had never known that his youngest child

was a whiz with computers. The only thing that their father had knowledge of was that Byron had a ion for cooking. So, of course, Marcus Blake had reacted like the asshole that he was by sabotaging Byron’s attempt to get a job as a cook at a restaurant.

What the bastard hadn’t known was that Byron had taken cooking lessons and had learned a lot during those classes. Byron had been adamant about starting his career as a cook and then working his way up until he was a chef. So, that Marc had invited him to move in with him had come as a blessing. Marc was impressed, would now be a good time to reveal his secret life to Byron? Maybe.

Chapter Eleven

Bailey watched Marc leave the shop and talk to a blond man in the parking lot. The man was stunning, and that somehow made Bailey’s blood boil. Was it anger that he felt? Jealousy? Surely not; he didn’t even know Marc that well.

Then both men got into their cars and drove off. It looked like the blond man was following Marc Blake. Were they lovers? Bailey shook his head; no, it wasn’t his business. He left the apartment, descended the stairs, and entered the shop. “What did he want?” Bailey questioned, meaning, of course, Marc, who had just left the flower shop.

Keith frowned, and he wasn’t sure if he should tell the man that Marc Blake was here to see him. Then again, if he were lying now, there was a chance that Bailey would never trust him again, and that wasn’t an option. So, Keith decided to go for the truth; well, it wasn’t like he had any other option. “Marc was here to see you. I sent him away because I thought you wanted your peace and quiet,” Keith softly answered.

Bailey looked thoughtful, had he wanted to talk to Marc? He sighed because right now, he didn’t know what he wanted. “I don’t know what I want. I’m tired all the time. I miss Brendan,” the last was a near whisper as Bailey’s eyes filled with tears. Keith wrapped Bailey in his arms and tried to comfort him as best as he could.

Keith’s heart broke upon hearing Bailey sob. However, there wasn’t much that he could do right now. But, what Keith could do was keep a close eye on Bailey and ensure he was safe. He hadn’t liked it when Marc Blake had entered the shop and wanted to see Bailey. Keith didn’t like Marc, and he knew trouble when he saw it. Keith was very sensitive, and when his gut feeling warned him, then he listened.

“I think that you need to go outside and get some fresh air,” Keith carefully suggested when Bailey had stopped crying. Bailey frowned. Did he want to go outside? Before he could say anything, Keith said cautiously, “I know you, and I knew Brendan, and I don’t think that he would want you to stop living and falling into a depression.”

That caught Bailey off guard because it had never crossed his mind that his brother wouldn’t want him to go into depression. But, damn, it was hard without Brendan. All his life, it had been Brendan and him against the world, and Bailey had no idea of how to go on without his big brother, his rock, his confidant.

“I don’t know how to go on without Brendan. I could always depend on him to have my back and to keep me safe,” Bailey whispered. Keith pressed his lips together; he had been shocked when Brendan was killed, and he suspected that the bomb under the car had been meant for Bailey because it was his car. People didn’t make mistakes like that; they just didn’t.

“I know that I can never replace Brendan, and that’s not what I want either, but I’m here for you if you need me. You can call me whenever you feel like it,” Keith said in a soft voice. Bailey looked up at Keith; they had become friends after Keith had helped Bailey carry heavy boxes inside the shop. Bailey had invited Keith for lunch, and they were friends ever since.

The only thing that Bailey knew was that Keith had lived on the East Coast and had moved to Madison Valley one year ago. That was all Bailey knew about Keith Aldridge. He had never given it much thought that he didn’t know anything about Keith or that the man had never shared his past with Bailey or Brendan. However, right now, Bailey was glad to have Keith in his life. Bailey trusted him because Keith had always been there for him and his brother.

“Now, are you ready to go outside and walk around the block?” Keith gently questioned as he took Bailey’s coat and held it out for him to take. Bailey frowned and sighed deeply. Maybe it would do him good to get some fresh air. “Alright, let’s go,” Bailey softly said as he slipped into his coat. “Good,” a satisfied-looking Keith said as he opened the door. Bailey hesitated for a short moment, but then he stepped outside.

******

“Shut up. Are you kidding me?” Byron whispered because he couldn’t believe what he just had heard coming out of Marc’s mouth. “I’m not kidding. I told you the truth, and I meant it when I said that I want to retire. I have enough money to last me a lifetime or two,” Marc replied. “You really are a hitman?” Byron questioned, and he had lowered his voice to a near whisper as if he was afraid that someone would hear him.

Marc nodded; he secretly liked it that he had shocked the hell out of his baby brother. “Now you know how I earn my living. I kill people.” “Only the ones who deserve it, right?” Byron replied. “Yep. I would never take an innocent life; it’s not who I am,” Marc said.

“So, why are you so interested in this guy from the flower shop? What’s his story? I get the feeling that you like the man but that something else is going on,” Byron said. Marc was stunned because his little brother was more perceptive than he had anticipated. Marc had the impression that nothing escaped Byron, which was good.

Marc decided to answer Byron honestly; after all, the man already knew all there was to know about him. “I know Bailey as the owner of the Flower Hut,” Marc paused and motioned for Byron to follow him into the basement where his

second office was. Byron would be the second person to see Marc’s sanctuary; the first one had been Alec. Marc pushed that thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t want to think about Alec; the man was dead.

Marc smiled when he saw the wonder on Byron’s face at seeing all the equipment. Marc fired up his computer and pulled up Fabian Copely’s file. Byron frowned. “Isn’t that the owner of the flower shop?” he questioned. Marc eyed his brother intently. “I don’t know, and that’s the problem,” he answered.

“I don’t understand. Why do you have his picture?” Byron asked because he really didn’t understand. “The picture that you’re looking at is from a monster who molested and killed young boys,” Marc replied. Byron was silent because he didn’t know what to say.

“Now he is living here under a false name?” Byron finally responded. “It’s not that easy,” Marc said. “I think that it is. Just kill the motherfucker,” Byron suggested. Marc pressed his lips together. “That’s just it, I did, or thought that I did,” Marc replied. “What do you mean by that?” Byron inquired.

Marc explained his last assignment and the horror he faced when he returned home. He noticed that talking to Byron was easy, familiar. The pain that he felt every time that he talked about Alec had lessened as well. Byron hadn’t interrupted his brother, but he had listened intently. Marc knew that his baby brother would each word that he had spoken.

“What are you going to do now? I mean, this is Bailey Hudson, there’s no doubt,” Byron said after he had eyed the picture of Fabian Copely for a few minutes. Marc didn’t know how to answer that one because he wasn’t sure what he should do. He did know that he needed more information about Bailey Hudson before he would take the necessary action.

“So, that’s the reason you wanted me to look into Bailey’s background?” Byron stated. Marc nodded because there was no point in denying it. “I need to know everything that you find out about this guy,” Marc insisted.

They left the basement and went into the living room. Byron sat down, leaned forward, and let his forearms rest on his knees. “It’s weird because I can’t find anything from before the three years that he’s living here. Whatever it is that Bailey is hiding, someone is hell bend on keeping it a secret,” a grim-looking Byron said. Then the man smiled. “I’m in my study if you need me,” he said suddenly. “Did inspiration hit you?” Marc chuckled. Byron didn’t answer because he had already left the room.

It was after eleven o’clock that evening when a grim-looking Byron strode into the living room. “I need a beer,” he said as he went into the kitchen and returned with two bottles. Marc frowned because Byron looked troubled, and that was a bad sign.

“I hit wall after wall. It’s like trying to tear down a concrete wall with a kitchen knife,” Byron growled. Marc took a swig of his beer and eyed his younger brother intently. “So, you still couldn’t find out anything beyond those last three years?” Marc asked. Byron nodded. “However, I’m not giving up. I still need to hack the FBI and the CIA. If they don’t have any information about this Bailey guy, then they must have created an artificial human and let him loose in the world three years ago.” Byron joked, but Marc could tell that it didn’t sit well with Byron.

Chapter Twelve

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Keith asked when they ed shops that were in the same street as the Flower Hut. Bailey inhaled and exhaled, “It feels good. I feel better; thank you, Keith; it was just what I needed,” Bailey said. Keith noticed that Bailey didn’t smile. The man hadn’t smiled since Brendan’s death.

“We could have coffee? I know that I would like one,” Keith said cautiously. Bailey looked thoughtful. Should he do Keith a favor and have coffee with the man? If it were up to him, Bailey would go home and watch some TV. As it was, Keith had done so much for him those last few days that he felt obligated to have coffee with him. So, he agreed, and they ended up at Star Lounge, a coffee shop where they served all kinds of hot and cold drinks and delicious pastries.

Keith had ordered coffee and a piece of apple pie, and Bailey wanted fresh mint tea. “Don’t you want to try some?” Keith said as he held a piece of his apple pie in front of Bailey. Bailey made a face because he didn’t like apple pie. Keith laughed, and to his astonishment, Bailey started laughing too.

“Thank you,” Bailey said as they returned to the shop again. Keith had closed the flower shop to have time for Bailey. He knew that he had done the right thing when Bailey had started laughing when they were at Star Lounge. However, when they had arrived at the flower shop, Bailey had told Keith that he would go upstairs to his apartment and watch TV for a while. Keith had almost invited Bailey for dinner, but he had held back at the last minute.

Bailey had been out into the world again, today and that was more than Keith could have hoped for. “Alright, but promise me that you call me, day or night. If you want to talk, or if you feel threatened, you call me,” Keith urged. Bailey nodded, then he stunned Keith by hugging him. Keith swallowed hard; this wasn’t something that he had expected.

Keith didn’t hesitate but hugged Bailey fiercely, and at that moment he made a silent vow that he would protect Bailey with his life. “Now go, and watch TV. I’ll check if the flowers have enough water, then I’ll be going home too,” said Keith.

“I will start working again tomorrow,” Bailey suddenly said. Keith raised one eyebrow. “That’s great. Shall I come by and help out?” a smiling Keith offered. “Would you do that for me?” “Sure, we could do lunch at the Daily Meal,” Keith hoped that Bailey would say yes because he was in a good place right now, and Keith wanted to keep Bailey there. The man had suffered tremendously when he had lost his brother.

Bailey looked thoughtful. “Can I decide on that tomorrow?” he said, and to his relief, Keith told him that it wasn’t a problem. Keith left after Bailey had promised the man that he would call him if things went south. Bailey closed the shop and went up the stairs that led to his apartment.

Bailey woke early the following day; he drank coffee and managed even to eat something. When he strode into the shop, Bailey unlocked the front door, swung it open, and moved one of the flower racks outside, so customers knew that the shop was open for business.

It was one PM when Keith suggested closing the Flower Hut for an hour to have lunch. Bailey was reluctant because he wasn’t hungry, but he also knew that starving himself wasn’t an option either. So, much to Keith’s delight, he agreed. They went to the Daily Meal, and Bailey had surprised himself when he had eaten all of his French fries and the hamburger he had ordered.

Two weeks had gone by since Brendan’s violent death, and Bailey had been destroyed to hear what the actual reason for the accident was. Brendan had died

because someone had placed a bomb under Bailey’s car. Bailey knew what that meant, but he didn’t want to think about that right now. Bailey had inherited Vintage Treasures, Brendan’s antique shop. He didn’t want it because what did he know about antique things? Right, nothing. He didn’t want to sell the shop either; after all, it had been Brendan’s baby.

Keith had offered to manage Vintage Treasures for a while until Bailey had figured out what he wanted to do with it, and Bailey had accepted the offer without hesitation. Bailey had returned to the shop and strode to the back to sort the flowers that had arrived that morning. Keith would open Vintage Treasures, Brendan’s antique shop the following day. Well, it was more watching over the man. Keith was upfront helping a customer when the bell ringing let him know that someone entered the shop. His smile disappeared when he saw who it was that came into the shop.

“What do you want?” Keith asked. Marc raised one eyebrow. “I’m here to see Bailey,” he answered. Marc managed to keep his tone friendly because he didn’t want to antagonize this man. “As I told you before, Bailey is resting, and he doesn’t want to see anyone. Why are you interested in Bailey anyway?” Keith questioned.

“Well, that’s none of your business. And Bailey is an adult, so that means that he can decide for himself if he wants to see me or not,” Marc retorted. Even now that he was agitated by Keith, Marc managed to keep his voice even. The friendly tone, however, was gone, and Keith had noticed it too because he said. “Listen, Bailey is going through a rough time right now. So, why don’t you leave him alone? I’ll tell him that you were here, and then it’s up to Bailey if he wants to see you.”

Marc sighed because there was nothing that he could do right now except maybe kill the man, which was not an option. The assassin didn’t like Keith, but that didn’t mean that he would kill the man. Marc turned and headed for the front

door when he heard someone calling his name. He smiled because Marc knew who that voice belonged to.

“Marc?” Bailey repeated when the man didn’t turn. Marc turned, and his smile vanished when he saw the sunken eyes, pale face, and hollow look. Was it possible that this wasn’t Fabian Copely? Marc saw a broken man standing in front of him.

“Hey, Bailey. How are you?” Marc inquired cautiously; his tone was sympathetic. Bailey looked frail, like the man could drop dead any minute. “I don’t know,” Bailey whispered, and it stunned him that he had given the man an honest answer. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you how sorry I am that you lost your brother,” Marc said quietly. “Thank you,” Bailey whispered. Marc’s instinct told him to leave, but somehow he couldn’t make his feet obey.

“Is there anything else that I can do for you?” Bailey asked politely. Marc smiled. “Would you have coffee with me?” he said. Bailey didn’t reply immediately, and just when Marc thought that the man would turn him down, Bailey said in a soft voice, “Yes.”

Bailey turned toward Keith. “Keith, could you stay for an hour or so, please?” For a moment, it looked as if Keith would say no because the man didn’t look happy, but then he nodded. Marc didn’t miss the warning look that Keith gave him. The man’s protective behavior raised even more questions, and red flags. Why did he shelter Bailey so ferociously? Marc’s instinct told him that this man wasn’t gay. So, what was his reason to, well, guard Bailey? Marc hoped that his baby brother would soon have some answers for him. It was odd that even a skilled hacker like Byron had difficulty finding information about Bailey beyond those three years. Well, Marc would see if he could find some information about Bailey.

“Where do you want to go for coffee?” Bailey asked, and Marc could see the uncertainty in the man’s eyes. Marc wondered how old Bailey was; he didn’t seem older than twenty-five. “Uh, what?” Marc hadn’t heard a word Bailey had said. “I asked you where you want to go for coffee?” Bailey repeated while he eyed Marc expectantly.

Marc looked thoughtful because it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to ask Bailey to have coffee with him. Marc had expected that Bailey would be alone in the shop, but Keith had been there. So, Marc decided to take Bailey to a coffee shop so he could carefully question the man. Marc knew that the man was hiding things, he just felt it, and his gut feeling had never failed him.

Chapter Thirteen

“How did it go?” Byron asked when he saw his brother enter the living room. “By the way you look, it didn’t go well,” Byron observed. Marc nodded. “It was a disaster. The moment I asked about his life before he came here, he closed the window and wanted to go,” Marc explained. “That’s not good,” Byron responded as he handed Marc a bottle of water. “No, it’s not. That’s why I need you to perform your magic and get me the info that I need. Something is very wrong, and I need to know what that is. I need to know why this man is still breathing,” Marc insisted. He liked Bailey; he liked the innocence in the man’s eyes. Was this really the child molester he had killed or thought he had?

“Your, uh, work phone rang while you were away,” Byron informed his brother. He had called it Marc’s work phone because he didn’t know how else to call it, like, oh, by the way, your hitman assignment phone rang? No, that was not an option. Marc frowned. “That’s odd because I insisted that they wouldn’t call for at least another week,” he replied, looking thoughtful. “Well, call back and.” “No, I never call back. If they have an assignment for me, they call back,” Marc interrupted his younger brother.

Marc had left his work phone at home when he visited Bailey because he wouldn’t be able to take the call when Bailey was with him. “Now I know that you trust me completely,” said a grinning Byron as he pointed to Marc’s, well, business phone. Marc smiled because his brother was right; he had left the phone home without thinking twice. “Yeah, I guess so,” he replied.

Byron disappeared into his study again, hoping to gain more information on Bailey and Keith. Marc grabbed his headphone just when his work phone rang. He softly cursed when he picked it up and pushed the green button. “The voice didn’t greet him; the person never did. Marc got a name and where he could find all the info he needed about his next target.

Marc fired up his laptop to retrieve the mail that held all the information that he

needed. Then he started to investigate the target. Marc always did some investigation before he took the assignment because he would never kill an innocent person. This one had robbed and killed several older women. The man, or young man he was twenty-two, came from a wealthy family, and that had kept him out of jail. Well, if the information about this monster were correct, then Marc would put him six feet under.

When Marc had finished gathering all the info he could get his hands on, he peeked into the study where Byron was busy typing on the keyboard. “I will be away for the next couple of days,” Marc informed his brother. “Work?” Byron inquired. Marc nodded. “Be careful, brother,” Byron said, then he stunned Marc by hugging him. It took a few seconds before Marc reacted, and then he hugged his brother back.

One hour later, Marc was on his way, and he was glad that this time his target lived in the US. For this mission, Marc drove a rental that he had booked online using one of his aliases. Now he was on his way to Minnesota to kill a monster.

Marc drove all day and part of the night before he stopped to get some sleep. He didn’t need much sleep, but he still needed a few hours of rest. Marc stopped at a motel and requested a room at the back. He parked the vehicle in front of the room and put the bag, which contained his tools and the small suitcase with his clothes in it, next to the bed.

Marc undressed, showered, and lay down on the bed. He turned on the TV but couldn’t concentrate. His thought wandered off to Bailey Hudson. What was it with this man that fascinated him so much?

Marc was in his rental before the sun came up. He wanted to finish the job as quickly as possible; he still had a few hours of driving ahead of him. It would be

Marc’s last assignment because he really wanted out, retire, and enjoy his life. Marc had earned enough money to last him a lifetime. Now his youngest brother had chosen to move in with him, and Marc had to it that he liked having Byron around.

It was in the late afternoon when Marc finally reached the town where his target seemed to be residing. The scumbag had moved from his hometown to some godforsaken small town in Minnesota. Marc took a hotel room in the next small town. It wouldn’t be wise to stand out unnecessarily. In small towns like these, everyone knew everybody; that was why his target probably had moved there. If a stranger came to town, he would immediately know because people would talk about it. That’s how it was in those small towns, and Marc should know because he lived in one as well.

Marc had gotten the address where the target lived. Now, all he had to do was observe and then strike. Marc was good at what he did; that’s why he had so many assignments over the years. Marc didn’t know the identity of the person who gave him the assignments; he didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman. Whenever that person called, he or she possibly used a voice changer, which made it impossible for Marc to identify the voice as male or female.

It took Marc a week before he was sure of the target’s routine. Now he knew where and when he would strike. Every day the target walked to the diner for lunch; after that, he walked home, and a vacant lot was the last part he had to cross before he reached his apartment. So, that would be the perfect spot to shoot him; Marc would kill him on his way home.

Marc was in his motel room and ready to head home again. He had packed everything; all he needed was to check out. Marc closed the door, put his bag and his small suitcase in the trunk. He glanced around, but everything seemed normal.

Marc stood in front of the desk, waiting for the desk clerk so that he could go home. The young woman smiled when she saw Marc in front of the desk. Then she started talking about the shooting that had taken place the previous day. She told Marc how everyone was in shock. Marc nodded a few times, then he took his bill and left.

It was now that he noticed how tired he was of all this shit. Yep, he was getting old, for sure. As soon as he arrived home, Marc would dispose of his, well, work phone. He had told his client already that this was his last assignment. The man or woman had protested, but Marc had been adamant.

Two days later, Marc was home again, and he was a bit disappointed when Byron still hadn’t found anything out about Bailey, or Keith, for that matter. Marc had been delighted when Byron had told him that he was hired as a cook at Captain Jack’s. “That’s great news. When do you start?” Marc asked while he grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and handed his brother one.

“I start next week, and I intend to learn as much as I can,” Byron said; even though he was an excellent cook, Byron knew that he had much to learn before he would become a chef. Marc said that he had faith in Byron’s cooking abilities because he cooked the best meals Marc had ever tasted. Marc was relieved when Byron didn’t give him the third degree about his job. In fact, Byron hadn’t asked about his last assignment at all. Alec always had inquired about Marc’s job. The man had wanted to know every detail.

“Oh, before I forget, the word is that some strange figures are in town,” Byron informed his brother. Marc frowned. “Yeah, well, sometimes people are visiting,” he dead-panned. “Yeah, but get this. Town residents are afraid of these men,” Byron said, and the man wasn’t smiling. That got Marc’s attention. “What do you mean, people are afraid?” he questioned because his curiosity was

aroused. Byron shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s what I heard when I went to Captain Jack’s for a second interview,” he explained.

“Did you see them?” “Nope.” Marc sighed; he would go into town to check what was going on. Even though Marc had always been careful, there was always a possibility that someone had found out about his true identity. Marc knew that if that were the case, then all hell would break loose. “All I know is that they are seen near the mall,” Byron told his brother.

“Thanks for the info, brother,” Marc said as he sat down on the couch. “I know what you’re doing for a living, so I thought that you needed to know. I probably wouldn’t have given it a second thought if you had been a barista or something,” Byron said, and the man looked so serious. “Barista? Really?” Marc chuckled. Then, he was serious again. “Then it’s good that I told you the truth,” he replied. He was smiling, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I can go to town and make some inquiries. I know some residents because I met them at the restaurant,” Byron said. Marc frowned. “Explain to me why strangers would talk to you just because you were at a restaurant?” Marc didn’t understand. “When I was at Captain Jack’s for my second interview, some customers got curious, so they asked me if I was going to be the new cook,” Byron explained.

“So, you made new friends?” Marc asked; he knew that Byron was good with people and easy to talk to. The man could be very charming if he wanted to. “Not friends, but I talk to people, and they love to gossip,” Byron grinned. Marc nodded his approval because friends, real friends, who had your back and never turned on you, were rare, very rare. It was good that his baby brother knew the difference as well.

Chapter Fourteen

“Hey, it’s me,” Bailey began, and he fought back the tears that threatened to fall. “I miss you so much, and I’m so sorry. It should have been me lying here, not you.” Then the tears began to fall; it was like the floodgates opened, and there was nothing that he could do about it. “How do I continue without you? Tell me, please, because I don’t know. Keith is so kind and patient, but it’s still so hard,” Bailey sagged to the ground in front of Brendan’s headstone.

Bailey didn’t even seem to notice that it was pouring and that he was soaking wet. All he knew was that he didn’t know how to go on without his big brother. Three years they had been living in peace; now it was gone. Bailey knew in the back of his mind that it was time to move, but he was tired of running. The bomb they placed in his car and had killed Brendan instead of him was a sign that they had found them.

Despite being in the witness protection program, they had found them. So, why move away? It wouldn’t do him any good; they would catch up with him sooner or later. And in this case, Bailey thought that would be sooner rather than later. He had heard people talk about the strangers in town. “They look like the men in mob movies,” Luke had said. Luke was a volunteer at the hospital, just as Bailey was, and he was always the first with gossip and news.

“Are you alright, buddy?” said a voice from behind him. Bailey opened his eyes and closed them almost immediately again. It was Keith, and Bailey so didn’t need that right now. He wanted to be alone with Brendan; he needed his brother’s advice. “Bailey?” Keith said, and he sounded worried. Bailey didn’t respond. “God, your lips are blue,” Keith whispered.

Bailey slowly woke, and he didn’t know where he was, but he knew that he wasn’t home. “Hey, buddy?” said a soft voice. That was Keith’s voice. “The lights,” Bailey croaked. “Wait a second,” Keith said, and a moment later, the lights were out, and Bailey could open his eyes. “Why am I in the hospital?” he

softly questioned. Keith looked uncomfortable but finally said, “I found you at Brendan’s grave. You suffered from hypothermia; I brought you here because I was worried.” “I’m fine,” Bailey insisted. “You were not fine; you were unconscious when we arrived at the hospital,” Keith informed Bailey.

Bailey frowned. “What do you mean?” “I checked on you when you were visiting Brendan’s grave. Your lips turned blue, and then you lost consciousness. I couldn’t get you to wake up, so I brought you to the hospital. The doctor told me that you had hypothermia,” Keith explained.

Bailey sighed. “When will it be over?” he whispered. “I don’t understand,” Keith replied. His heart broke at seeing the defeated expression on Bailey’s face: this was not how it was supposed to be. Brendan was dead, killed by God knows who. Bailey was a wreck who couldn’t deal with the loss of his brother. Bailey and Brendan had been so much more than just brothers. They had been best friends and had each other’s back, always.

Brendan had always been the one who steadied his younger brother. He had been Bailey’s rock, and now he was dead, murdered. Keith had demanded information about the car bomb investigation. Keith now knew that it wasn’t the Delossantos Family who had placed the bomb in Bailey’s car. It irritated Keith that he was in the dark about the attack on the Hudson Brothers.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked when Bailey pushed upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’m going home because I have a business to run,” Bailey replied. “No, you’re not going home until the doctor releases you,” Keith said in a firm voice while he gently pushed Bailey back into the pillows. Bailey scowled, Keith chuckled. Even though he had the task of keeping Bailey safe, they had developed a deep friendship.

It was approximately two hours later, and Keith had left to get some coffee when the doctor finally showed up. “Can I go home now?” Bailey asked because he really wanted to get out of the hospital; he hated hospitals. Brendan had died here, at the same hospital he was in right now. Yes, he wanted out of there.

The doctor smiled, but somehow it didn’t reach the man’s eyes. Now that he was thinking about it, Bailey didn’t know this doctor either. Bailey worked at the hospital, it was a small hospital, and he knew every doctor and nurse who worked there, and this man, he didn’t know. Just when the doctor opened his mouth to say something, Keith entered the room.

“What’s going on, and who are you?” Keith was on high alert, which surprised and confused Bailey. “They are paging me; I’ll be right back,” said the doctor, and before Keith could react, the doctor was gone. Bailey glanced at Keith. “What the hell just happened?” Bailey whispered. “I don’t know,” Keith replied. “What aren’t you telling me?” Bailey suddenly said, throwing Keith of kilter. The man, however, regained his composure quickly.

“Well?” Bailey said, and the expression on his face said all that Keith needed to know. It was time to come clean if he didn’t want to lose Bailey’s trust. “Alright, I will tell you everything, but not here,” Keith said, and before he could go on, the actual doctor walked into the room, waving Bailey’s release papers.

When the doctor had left, Bailey eyed Keith, and there was suspicion in his eyes, something that Keith couldn’t blame the man for. “All that I can say for now is that I’m not here to hurt you. Everything else I’ll tell you once you’re home again,” Keith promised. “How can I trust you? How do I know that you won’t kill me once I’m home?” Bailey said.

Keith’s smile was rueful when he said, “If I wanted you dead, I would have

killed you already.” Bailey thought about that statement and concluded that Keith was right. The man had so many opportunities to murder him, but here he was, alive and kicking. “I’m confused right now,” Bailey softly itted. Keith could relate to that; he had dreaded the day that he had to come clean about why he was in Bailey’s life.

“Start explaining. Why are you in my life?” Bailey questioned as soon as he closed the apartment door behind him. “Living room,” Keith said. Bailey sighed but went into the living room. “Believe me when I say that it was never my intention to mislead you or lie to you.” “Well, you did, and now it’s time to tell me the truth, don’t you think?” Bailey snapped. Keith frowned; Bailey quickly apologized for lashing out.

“When you and Brendan went into protective custody,” Keith began. Bailey winced at hearing his brother’s name. If Keith had noticed it, he didn’t show. “My client hired me to watch over both of you.” Keith paused. “So, you’re not really my friend; you only pretended to be?” Bailey sounded so defeated, and it nearly broke Keith’s heart.

“That part wasn’t a lie. However, I didn’t want to become friends. I only wanted to keep an eye on you and Brendan. Then, I got to know you, and I started to like you. I kept secrets from you, yes, but the friendship I feel for you is real. If you don’t believe anything, believe that,” Keith said. Bailey saw the pain in the man’s eyes, and it made him reconsider.

Bailey eyed Keith, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do or what to say. “Go! Leave, please?” Bailey softly demanded. “I need time to think. I lost Brendan, and now you’re telling me that you knew who I was all this time? I want to hear everything, but not right now. Call me in a day or two, okay?” Bailey added when he saw the hurt look in Keith’s eyes. All he wanted was to be left alone; he needed to think.

Keith didn’t like to leave Bailey on his own, but what choice did he have? So, there was nothing else that he could do other than leave. Bailey watched Keith walking out the door, and he was so close to calling the man back. As it was, he really needed time to put everything in perspective, and he couldn’t do that with Keith nearby.

Bailey wanted to believe Keith because he actually liked the guy. But how could he trust someone who had lied to him? Keith had lied from day one, and Bailey didn’t know how to deal with that. How he wished that Brendan was here, he would have known what to do. Bailey was at a loss, and he had never felt so alone in his life. Brendan was dead, killed by a bomb in the car. A bomb that probably was meant for him, not Brendan. The thought of Brendan being dead because of him pulled Bailey once again in a downward spiral. Tears rolled over his cheeks. “I need you so badly,” Bailey said to an empty room. He knew that he would never see Brendan again. Then, rage, as Bailey had never felt before, surged through him.

He would go to the mall right now and look for the strangers that the residents had talked about. Bailey knew almost everyone, which should help in finding the men. He grabbed his coat and stalked toward the front door.

Chapter Fifteen

“Bailey?” Marc called when he saw the florist walking in front of him. Bailey glanced over his shoulder, and Marc was shocked to see the grief-stricken look on the man’s face. Damn, he felt for the guy, and that was so not his intention. Marc still didn’t know if Bailey was Fabian, the child molester, slash murderer. As long as he wasn’t sure of Bailey’s true identity, Marc would keep his emotional distance.

For a moment, Marc thought that Bailey would continue walking, but then the man stopped and waited until Marc had reached him. “How are you?” Marc asked because he didn’t quite know what to say. He didn’t know Bailey that well, and that’s precisely how Marc liked it, for now.

Even so, Marc had, at least, it to himself that he was attracted to Bailey, and it was something that he couldn’t fight. What he could do was not to act on the feelings that he had for the florist. Marc knew that a person couldn’t help falling in love, but one could choose not to act. Marc had chosen not to act on his growing feelings for Bailey.

“I’m alright,” Bailey’s answer was short and let Marc know that the man had acknowledged him out of politeness. Bailey looked miserable, he was too pale, and his eyes were void of emotion. “Care to me for coffee?” Marc asked before he could stop himself.

Bailey shook his head. “No, thank you!” he softly replied. Marc had the urge to stop Bailey when the man started to walk away from him, but he stopped himself at the last moment. Bailey was in a very bad place right now, and Marc’s instinct told him to leave the man be. So, all that he could do was watch the man’s back as he walked away.

Bailey didn’t know what to think of Marc. The man seemed nice enough, but what did he know? He had fallen for Keith’s lies. Bailey had trusted the man, and it had hurt when Keith had told him that he had known from the beginning who they were. “Damn the Delossantos Family,” Bailey muttered to himself while he was strolling through the mall.

The Delossantos Family was a mob family led by Mario Delossantos, he was the head of the family, and he wanted Brendan and Bailey’s heads on a stick. Well, in a matter of speaking, or not.

Three years ago, Bailey had filmed Brendan while the man showed his skills on his jet ski. Bailey also had recorded his environment because of the magnificent butterflies and birds. It was when he had recorded a songbird that he also had filmed the dumping of a body. Bailey had not witnessed the killing, but he had recorded the body dump.

Brendan and Bailey had decided to go to the police and tell them what Bailey had seen and to hand over the footage of the body dump. The detective had watched the footage and immediately had grabbed the phone and called the FBI. Bailey and Brendan had been shocked when the detective had told them that they had recorded Mario Delossantos in person, dumping a body.

However, for Bailey and Brendan, it had been a nightmare because they had no other option than to the witness protection program. That meant new identities, moving to the other side of the country. It meant starting all over again, leaving everyone and everything behind them. They hadn’t said goodbye to friends and even family. A black SUV had come in the middle of the night and had transported them to a small airport. Now, Bailey lived in Madison Valley, a small village with less than five thousand residents.

Even so, life had been good until Brendan was killed, murdered. Bailey reeled when he thought of Brendan being rushed into the ER, and then the doctor telling him that they hadn’t been able to save Brendan’s life. Bailey stopped, looked around, and asked himself what he was doing. He didn’t know every resident, so how could he recognize strangers?

Bailey turned and started his way back to the flower shop when he heard someone call his name. Bailey looked to the left and saw to his horror that Marc was standing at the newsstand, paper in hand. “God, not now. Not again,” he mumbled as he nodded in greeting. He had seen Marc once today, and that had been enough. Then things got worse when Marc came toward him. Hopefully, he wouldn’t invite him for coffee again.

For a moment, they stood opposite each other, not knowing what to say. Then, Bailey saw the man from the parking lot walking toward them, thank God. Bailey had seen this man talking to Marc in the parking lot in front of the Flower Hut. Marc had wanted to see him shortly after Brendan was killed. Keith had prevented that, and when Marc had left the shop, Bailey had seen him talking to the blond man who was coming their way.

Marc smiled warmly, and it made the man look ten years younger, Bailey thought. “Hey, Byron. What are you doing here?” Marc asked because Byron hadn’t said anything about going shopping. “I’m on my way to Captain Jack’s,” Byron smiled. “That must mean that you made it to the final round,” Marc said. Then, he turned to Bailey. “Bailey, meet Byron, my younger brother,” Marc introduced both men. Byron held out his hand in greeting, and Bailey couldn’t do anything else than shake the offered hand.

Byron seemed genuinely pleased to meet him, and that startled Bailey somewhat. “I need to go now, or else I’ll be late for my appointment,” Byron said. “It was nice to meet you,” Byron addressed Bailey as he held out his hand again. Bailey shook the offered hand again. Byron playfully clapped Marc on the

shoulder and said, “I’ll see you at home.”

“I have some errands to run, so I’ll see you around,” Marc said as he walked past a stunned Bailey and disappeared into the shopping crowd. Bailey blinked a few times. What the hell just happened? But wasn’t this exactly how he wanted it? Why wasn’t he happy that Marc had walked away instead of asking him out for a coffee or dinner?

Marc walked to the mall exit; he didn’t need to run errands. He had been on the verge of asking Bailey one more time to have coffee with him. Marc had been shocked to see a pale and weary-looking Bailey. The man wasn’t doing well, and Marc suspected that Bailey still was suffering the loss of his brother.

Marc was easing his car into traffic when his work phone rang. He frowned and didn’t answer the call because he was in his car. For a moment, Marc debated if he should destroy the phone but then decided to keep the damn thing a bit longer; after all, one could never know.

Marc’s work phone rang again when he was in the living room staring out the window into the darkness. He answered the call and listened to the voice; he still couldn’t define it as male or female. Then he fired up his laptop, the one connected to the internet, and checked his incoming mails. And sure as hell, there it was, the assignment that would be his last one.

Marc was tired, tired of killing people. True, all of them had been scum, but now it was time to let someone else take over. The voice had told him that he, or she, wasn’t happy, but Marc couldn’t care less. They could kiss his ass; he was done.

Marc was stunned when he opened the file and saw who his target was. “Fuck me,” Marc whispered when he saw Keith’s name and a picture of the man. The blood froze in his veins when he noticed where the picture was taken. A smiling Keith was standing in front of the Flower Hut. “God damn,” Marc cursed.

“What’s wrong,” Byron said as he stepped into Marc’s office, the one in the basement. For a moment, Marc thought about shutting his laptop. “Close it if it makes you feel safer,” Byron said, and there was no anger in his voice. Yes, the man was perceptive. “No, you are my brother, and I need to learn that I can trust you. It will take some time, so be patient with me,” Marc replied as he motioned for Byron to him at his desk.

“Whoa. That’s Keith, Bailey’s friend,” Byron whispered. Marc nodded. “They want me to kill Keith,” Marc answered while he started tapping on his keyboard. “You need information about him, right?” Byron said as he looked over Marc’s shoulder, eyeing the screen.

“Yep, I need to know what this man did wrong that someone wants him dead,” Marc softly replied. “I can help you with that,” Byron offered. Marc could slap himself on the forehead; why hadn’t he thought of that? His baby brother was a whiz with computers, and he could hack into any system. “That would be great. You are so much faster and better at this than I am,” Marc itted. “Alright, then let’s get to work,” Byron said, rubbing his hands together.

Marc smiled, then it dawned on him that Byron had his final interview at Captain Jack’s. “How did the interview at Captain Jack’s go?” he inquired. “Hired, of course,” Byron looked happy and so God damn smug that Marc started laughing. It felt good to laugh again, and it felt even better to have his baby brother at his side. “Congrats, little brother,” Marc laughed as he hugged Byron.

Chapter Sixteen

Bailey’s phone rang, and he sighed when he saw that it was Keith. It had been three days since he had spoken to the man, and now he had to give him the chance to explain why he had lied. An hour later, Keith knocked on the apartment door. Bailey opened the front door and stepped aside to let Keith . Keith sat down, and Bailey took a seat opposite the man. He was eyeing him intently, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m not supposed to tell you any of this, but I can no longer be silent. You need to know everything that happened.” Keith sighed deeply, sipped from his water, and finally began to explain.

“I’m a bodyguard, and I was sent here to watch over and protect you and Brendan. So, I know that the two of you are in the witness protection program. I’m in with my client almost on a daily basis.” Keith paused, and Bailey could tell that the man was getting emotional. Bailey didn’t quite know how he felt. Should he feel betrayed? He liked Keith, and the man had stayed by his side when Brendan. Bailey dismissed that thought because he didn’t want to think of his brother, not right now. The confusion he felt made Bailey decide to hear what Keith had to say. After that, he would see what to do about the man.

Then, Keith continued. “I. We,” Keith corrected himself, “Are almost positive that it wasn’t the Delossantos Family who placed the bomb under your car.” Bailey blinked because what the hell? “What do you mean?” Bailey whispered as he shot upright. “It seems that my client has Mario, his son Robert, and the rest of the Family under surveillance and monitor their phone conversations, chat messages, and so on. We even monitor their financial transactions. Nothing is indicating that they send someone to kill you. As far as I know, they are still in the dark about your whereabouts.” Keith paused and eyed Bailey for a second before he turned away.

“Who is your client? Who pays you to keep me company?” Bailey questioned

because he didn’t like it one bit that some unknown person paid someone to watch over him. Why would anyone do that? Keith got a guilty expression in his eyes when he said, “I don’t know” “Yeah, right. You get paid by someone you don’t know to babysit me. Aren’t you curious about where that money comes from?” Bailey asked.

Keith had thought about that too, but he had needed the money, and because of that, he had agreed to take the job. What Keith hadn’t foreseen was the friendship that had developed between them. He liked Bailey, and he had liked Brendan.

“At first, I didn’t care where the money came from because I needed a job, and my client was very generous.” “So, it’s all about money?” Bailey said sharply. Keith shook his head. “Let me finish, please? Hear me out, and if you don’t want me in your life after that, I’ll go.”

Bailey eyed Keith suspiciously; could he still trust the man? He actually liked Keith, and that made it even harder to believe him. Bailey sighed. Keith’s gaze was intense, and Bailey saw the sincerity in the man’s eyes. “Alright,” Bailey said after a few minutes, “let’s hear it.”

Keith pressed his lips together, and then he began to explain. “I’m a former FBI agent, and I was a damn good one too. Then one day, something happened that made me quit the Bureau. And before you ask, I don’t want to talk about it,” Keith sounded adamant. “I’m not ready to talk about it,” he added, and his tone had softened.

“After I quit the Bureau, I couldn’t get a job anywhere because my former superior had made sure of that. I had no income, and because of that, I ran out of money. Let me tell you that losing your house isn’t fun. Then, suddenly I got this

phone call, and this person offers me good money to travel to Madison Valley just to watch over you and Brendan.” Keith paused and sipped his water.

Bailey didn’t say anything but waited patiently for Keith to continue, which the man did. “I moved to Madison Valley three years ago, around the same time that you did. I expected this to be an easy assignment because both of you were in protective custody. No one knew your whereabouts, so who would come for you?” Keith paused, eyed Bailey, and when the man stayed silent, he continued. “At first, I kept my distance because I didn’t want to get involved in your lives.” Bailey knew that Keith meant his and Brendan’s lives.

“Then, about six months ago, I saw you, carrying those heavy boxes inside the shop, and I couldn’t help myself; I had to offer my help. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did, and I’m not sorry that we met,” Keith said, as he smiled ruefully. Bailey could tell that the man expected to be banned from his life any moment now.

Bailey didn’t know what to say; he wanted to trust Keith so badly. “Who is paying you?” Bailey asked because Keith had to know. “I really don’t know who signs my paycheck,” Keith insisted. Bailey eyed Keith for a moment, then he softly said, “Let’s say that I believe you. Where would we go from here?”

“What do you mean?” Keith looked confused. “I don’t want to lose our friendship. I believe you; I do. And I want to trust you, but a part of me can’t, not yet,” said Bailey. Keith nodded; he said, “I apologize for not being honest with you, and I really regret that. You can trust me because the friendship I feel for you is genuine.” Keith sounded sincere when he added, “I still want to protect you; I still want to be your bodyguard, your friend if you let me.”

“Are you going to accept your client’s paycheck?” Bailey needed to know where

he stood because if Keith would accept payment from this unknown client, he couldn’t be completely loyal to him. After all, he would have to listen to his employer. If the man ordered him to lift the protection, Keith would have to obey, which wasn’t really an option. Not for Bailey.

“No, I will them and tell them to stop the payments. I would need another job, though,” Keith itted. “I could help you find a job,” Bailey offered. Keith pressed his lips together and nodded; it would be hard to find a suitable job. He was a trained agent and bodyguard. Madison Valley was a small town, so suitable jobs weren’t up for grabs.

Bailey looked thoughtful; he said, “If you managed Vintage Treasures, then you have a job, and I don’t need to close the store.” Keith frowned. “Are you sure?” he asked because Vintage Treasures had been Brendan’s store, and Bailey still was mourning his brother. “I’m sure because I’m still not sure of what to do with that store. So, if you would manage it, that would be great,” said Bailey cautiously.

“I could manage Vintage Treasures for a while until you know what you want to do with it,” Keith promised. Bailey smiled, and it was a real smile. Keith smiled too, and he was relieved that Bailey still wanted to see him; this would make it a lot easier to guard the man.

Bailey locked the door and tended to the flowers; then, he went upstairs to his apartment. He stood in the kitchen and sighed, Bailey knew that he needed to eat something, but he wasn’t hungry. He walked into the living room and switched on the TV. After a few minutes, he turned it off and decided to get some fresh air. He put on his jacket and closed and locked the front door of his apartment.

Bailey walked for quite some time before his stomach began to growl. He looked

up and saw that it was dark already. Bailey glanced around, and it was then that he noticed that he was on the outskirts of Madison Valley. What the hell? A look at his wristwatch let him know that it was nearly nine o’clock.

He searched for his phone in his jacket pocket and cursed when he came up empty. Bailey turned when he heard a car coming; oh good, maybe they could take him back into the town again. Much to his relief, the car stopped, Bailey started walking to the vehicle when two men exited the car, and before Bailey could do so much as blink, they grabbed him.

Bailey fought for all he was worth, but it didn’t help. The men cuffed him, opened the trunk, and threw him inside. Bailey saw to his horror that the trunk was closed, and then he felt the car moving. Shit, had he just been kidnapped? Oh, God, this must be the two men who had placed a bomb in his car, a bomb that killed Brendan.

Anger rose, and Bailey began to kick against the lid of the trunk, and lo and behold, the damn thing flew open. Even though the car was speeding, Bailey didn’t care; he sat upright, and then he let himself fall to the ground. Bailey hit the pavement hard, and for a minute, his world turned black. When he opened his eyes, Bailey was surprised to see that he was lying among trees and bushes. At first, he was confused, then it all came back. Two men had tried to kidnap him, and he had escaped by kicking open the lid of the trunk. He had hit the pavement, and then Bailey had lost consciousness. Now he was here in some kind of forest?

Then, pain, like he’d never felt before, hit Bailey. His arm was bleeding profusely, and his skin? Well, most of his arms and legs didn’t have skin anymore. It must have because he hit the road after he let himself fall out of the trunk. More pain shot through his body, and there wasn’t one spot that didn’t hurt. The pain was so excruciating that Bailey lost consciousness.

Chapter Seventeen

“Hello?” Marc said as he answered the call. It was a number that he didn’t recognize. “Marc? This is Keith.” Before Marc could ask the man what he wanted, Keith said, “Have you seen Bailey?” Marc frowned; this was strange. “No, I haven’t seen him. Why do you ask?” the hitman questioned. Marc was met by silence. Just when Marc wanted to repeat himself, Keith said, “I can’t find him anywhere.” “What do you mean you can find him?” Marc was on full alert.

“He’s not at the shop, and he doesn’t answer his phone.” “Did you try the cemetery?” Marc said because he knew that Bailey was visiting Brendan’s grave regularly. “I did; he’s not there either,” Keith said. Marc had noticed the panic in the man’s voice, which wasn’t good. “I don’t like it. Where are you now? We need to meet so we can start the search,” Marc said.

There was a moment of silence between the men, then Keith told Marc that he was at the Flower Hut and that he would be waiting for Marc so they could work on a strategy to search for Bailey. Marc called Byron and left a message when the phone went to voice mail. Byron was working, and that meant that he didn’t answer his phone. He would, however, listen to the voice mail. It was what the brothers had talked about; if it were urgent, then Byron would call back immediately.

Marc was walking toward his car when his phone rang, and he knew that it was Byron, so he answered right away. Marc told Byron that he was going to the Flower Hut to meet with Keith because Bailey was missing. They wanted to put up a plan to start searching for Bailey as soon as possible. Byron said that he would be there as well. Marc told him to stay at work, but Byron insisted on helping them find Bailey.

When Marc arrived at the shop, Byron had already arrived. The man was leaning against his car, obviously waiting for him. “It’s bad, isn’t it?” Byron softly said.

Marc nodded, and then they walked up to the entrance. Keith had seen them and unlocked the front door so both men could enter.

Marc, Keith, and Byron went to the back of the shop. Marc and Keith knew that they had to work together, form a team if they wanted to find Bailey. “Could it be that Bailey is visiting a friend?” Marc questioned; he didn’t think so, but one never knew. Keith shook his head. “No, I don’t think so because he was scared that they would find and kill him because they didn’t succeed the first time,” Keith answered.

Marc looked thoughtful because Keith was right; Bailey knew that he was the target and that they had killed Brendan by mistake, which meant they were still after him. Marc knew that if those thugs had gotten their hands on Bailey, there was a huge chance that he was dead.

As if Byron had read Marc’s thoughts, he said, “We will find him alive.” Marc wasn’t convinced, and neither was Keith, judging by his expression. “We Will find him alive. We will,” Byron repeated. “If you need me, I’ll be home behind my computer,” Byron added as he eyed his brother intently. Marc nodded; we will be there shortly,” he replied.

“Excuse me. We?” an indignant sounding Keith said. “Yes, we,” Marc answered; he didn’t look at Keith, but he kept staring through the window. He knew that Byron had left for home to start investigating Bailey’s disappearance. Marc was curious about what his younger brother was up to.

Marc turned to face Keith and said, “We need to stick together; that’s the only way to find Bailey.” Keith eyed him suspiciously, and Marc knew that the man didn’t believe him. Shit. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?” Keith narrowed his eyes and said, “If you want me to come with you, then you better

come clean and tell me why you want me in your home.”

Marc just eyed Keith; he didn’t quite know what to tell the man. He couldn’t tell him that he was an assassin, could he? So, what to tell Keith without telling more lies. “Bailey is dear to you, right?” Marc cautiously began. Keith nodded. “Yes, I see him as my little brother, although I wouldn’t tell him that, ever. He had one brother, and well,” said Keith.

“I think that you are in danger because of your close relationship with Bailey. You know too much, and because of that, they will hunt you down as well,” said Marc. Keith looked thoughtful. “If you say so,” he replied, and Marc could tell, by Keith’s expression, that the man wasn’t entirely convinced. But he would accompany him to the mansion, and that was what Marc wanted. He needed to keep Keith safe because he had turned down the assignment to kill the man, but soon, another assassin would come to kill Keith.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Byron whispered to an empty room. He studied the footage over and over. Byron grabbed his phone and hit speed dial. Marc answered on the first ring. “Hey bro, what’s up?” “I have looked at the footage of the street cameras, and I saw where Bailey was heading. I just don’t understand why,” Byron said in a calm voice. The man always stayed calm, just like Marc, even in a crisis.

“We are a few minutes from the mansion. Is your office cleaned?” Marc asked because he wanted to let Byron know that Keith would be there as well. “Yep, the office is clean and ready to receive visitors,” Byron replied, and Marc could hear the smile in the man’s voice. “Alright, see you soon,” said Marc, and then he ended the call.

Keith eyed Marc for a long moment before he said, “What aren’t you telling

me.” Marc looked sideways for a quick moment before his eyes were on the road again. He sighed and softly said, “Keith, there’s so much that you don’t know. And let’s keep it that way, for now. We need to find Bailey alive; that’s our priority. To Marc’s surprise, Keith didn’t push the issue. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

Marc parked his car in the garage. He and Keith entered the house through the door that opened into the entrance hall. They went straight to Byron’s study, where the man was already waiting for them. Marc saw that Byron had shut down his computer, clever guy.

Byron looked at Marc for guidance because he didn’t know how much Marc had told Keith. Marc sighed because he knew that he had to tell Keith at least something. After all, he eventually had to give Keith a plausible explanation of how Byron had gotten the information about Bailey. Marc was indecisive, and that wasn’t like him. He always knew what to do and when to do it.

Keith took the decision out of Marc’s hands when he said in a firm voice. “Look, Marc, this is about Bailey, and I love him like a brother. If anything happens to him, then I will never forgive myself.” Keith eyed Marc intently when he added, “Not if you know more and if that information helps us find Bailey in time, and you don’t share because you don’t trust me, or whatever. If you had to break the law to get information that can lead us to Bailey, then I’m game.”

Byron and Marc eyed Keith intently, and Marc saw the worry and the sincerity in the man’s eyes. “Please. If you know something, anything that can lead us to Bailey, then say it.” Keith walked to the window, stared outside, and softly added, “I couldn’t keep Brendan safe, and I’ll be damned if I let something happen to Bailey. No way!”

Byron looked at Marc, who nodded. Keith really was worried sick, and the man would do anything to find and rescue Bailey. “Alright,” Byron said and motioned for the two men to come closer as he fired up his computer. “I hacked the street cameras and, well, look for yourself,” he said as he played the footage that showed Bailey walking through the small town’s Main street.

“What is he doing there?” Marc whispered. “He must have been upset because every time Bailey feels rattled, he goes for a walk. He must have been absentminded to walk that far,” Keith said because he knew that Bailey always went for a walk when he felt lost or confused.

“It gets better, watch this,” Byron hit a few keys, and they saw that Bailey was forced into the trunk of a car. “They must be the two scumbags that were after Bailey and who placed a bomb in his car,” Marc cursed. Keith growled, and Byron looked from one to the other. “I’m glad that you agreed to the lawbreaking because otherwise, we would never have known this,” Byron pointed to the computer screen. “Could you see the license plate?” Keith questioned.

Byron nodded and told Marc and Keith that it was from a rental. “We need to go to the spot where they grabbed Bailey because maybe we can find traces of where the car is heading. We need to get Bailey out of their claws as soon as possible because once the client has him, he will kill him,” Marc said. He sounded calm and collected, but he wasn’t. Marc was full of rage, and he wanted nothing more than to rescue Bailey and kill the scum that had taken the man.

They took Marc’s car since Keith had left his car in front of the Flower Hut. Marc drove them to the very spot where Bailey was forced into the trunk of a car. Marc stopped the car, and they got out of the vehicle. Byron didn’t really know what to look for, so he stayed out of the way. Marc and Keith started to investigate the tire tracks, and both men cursed at the same time. “Let’s go,” Marc said.

“We know in which direction they went, but damn, this dirt road ends about two miles ahead,” said Keith. They all know what that meant. When the dirt road chanced into a paved one, there was no way that they could tell in which direction the kidnappers had disappeared. Marc cursed again because the chances to find Bailey in time were dwindling every minute that ed.

“We need to go home and work out a plan to find that car,” said Byron. Keith and Marc nodded in agreement. “I know that if it’s up to you, you would climb into the car and start the search. But.” “It wouldn’t be wise, I know. But damn, it’s hard. I want Bailey home, safe,” Keith interrupted. Marc could have said they would find Bailey alive and well, but that would be a lie. They didn’t even know if Bailey was still alive.

Chapter Eighteen

Bailey didn’t know how long he had been unconscious, but when he opened his eyes, it still was dark, or was it dark again? Had a new day ed, and had he been out of it for the rest of the night and the following day? Then, the pain came back, making Bailey scream in pain. If he only could manage to get back to the road again, then someone would see him.

As it was, when Bailey tried to move his legs, pain, like nothing that he knew, shot through his whole body, and he cried out again. Was he going to die? Was this it? Bailey was in so much pain, and he didn’t know where he was; surely someone would miss him by now?

Keith would miss him, of that Bailey was sure. Marc? Would the man miss him as well? Bailey didn’t think so because they weren’t that close. Would he ever get the chance to get to know Marc? Date the man? So much went through Bailey’s mind, and he didn’t even notice that he had closed his eyes again.

******

Keith and Marc stood behind Byron; they were watching his every move. Byron was tapping hastily away on his keyboard, and image after image appeared. Byron cursed a few times before he finally, without turning, motioned for Marc and Keith to come closer. “I have the car on camera,” Byron said. Marc and Keith leaned over Byron’s shoulder, and then they to saw the black rental in which the two scumbags drove.

“Where are they going? It looks like they are heading back to town again, which makes no sense,” Marc said. “Yes, right now they are back in Madison Valley, and I know where the car is parked,” Byron sounded smug, but the man wasn’t smiling.

“The car is parked at Madison House,” Byron informed the two men behind him. “Why are they back? It doesn’t make sense. Why would they kidnap Bailey and then bring him to Madison House?” a frowning Keith said. “Well, Madison House has cameras too. Look,” Byron hit a few keys, and footage of the Madison House lobby appeared.

“There,” Keith said as two men entered the lobby and went to the desk. “Are they checking in, but why?” Keith said. “I don’t see Bailey. That means that they are hiding him in the car,” Keith was confused. Byron tapped away on the keyboard again, and this time, footage from the parking lot appeared. They saw that the car was parked in front of a room. Two men got out and entered the room, but the question remained of where in the hell Bailey was?

“Where are you, Bailey,” Marc whispered as all three men kept staring at the footage. Byron had outdone himself by hacking every important camera in the neighborhood after seeing that the rental and the two men had turned the car and were heading back to Madison Valley.

The men had been watching the live footage for a long time, and after a while, Marc cursed because they still hadn’t seen Bailey. “It’s time that we check the car,” Marc said sharply. “I’d thought that you’d never asked,” said Keith.

Marc parked the car around the corner from Madison House, and they slowly moved toward the back of the bed and breakfast. It was where the two thugs had their room. They were in luck because the curtains were closed, and the room appeared dark. Keith felt Marc’s hand on his arm when he was about to move toward the rental.

Marc shook his head and motioned for Keith to follow him. “Why did you stop me?” Keith snapped in a whisper. They had to keep their voices low, so no one would know they were there. “We need to be sure that they are sleeping. That the lights are out doesn’t mean anything. They could be watching their surroundings right this moment,” whispered Marc in a calm tone. “You’re right, sorry,” Keith said. “I know that you want Bailey home; I do too. We need to keep our cool, otherwise, we will make fatal mistakes, which doesn’t help us, or Bailey,” Marc explained quietly. Keith nodded because he knew that Marc was right.

They walked toward Byron again. Marc looked at his brother in question. Byron shook his head, which meant that there weren’t any changes. The two men were still inside, and no sign that Bailey was with them. They waited for a long while before Marc felt that it was safe enough to check the car.

Byron crept to the room’s window where the two men were, and he smiled when he heard both men snore. Byron gave his brother the all-clear sign, and Marc started to work on the car’s lock. He didn’t want to, but he needed to know what was in the trunk of that damned vehicle.

Images of a bloody Alec hanging in the basement appeared in his mind again. “Oh, God, not now,” he whispered to himself. Keith eyed him with curiosity, but the man didn’t say anything. It seemed to take forever before Marc heard the soft click that indicated that the trunk was unlocked.

Marc hesitated, and he saw that Keith wasn’t keen either to take a look into the trunk. Marc finally glanced inside and sighed in relief when it was empty. Keith blew out a breath and said a silent prayer. Both men were grateful that Bailey hadn’t been in the trunk of the car. “Why did it take you so long to pick the lock?” Byron asked because he knew that Marc was a master when it came to picking locks.

Marc didn’t reply, but he pointed at the lock and motioned for Byron to take a closer look. “I’ll be damned,” said Byron after he recognized what he was looking at. Keith came closer as well. “See the inside of the trunk?” Marc Keith. Then he said, “Bailey was in there, and I guess that he tried to escape by forcing the lock.” “That’s why those two thugs came back to town. To look for Bailey, again,” a grim-looking Keith said. Marc nodded and smiled because this would mean that he had managed to escape, which was good. However, where was the man? Why hadn’t he called Marc or Keith, for that matter?

Then Marc’s smiled disappeared because what if Bailey couldn’t call any of them because he was killed in an effort to escape? No, he wouldn’t go there; he just wouldn’t. Maybe the man had hit the ground hard when he fell out of the trunk? God, they really needed to find Bailey, Marc’s gut feeling told him that time was running out. “We need to watch the footage of the street cameras again because we now know what to look for,” Byron suggested.

Marc parked the car in front of the mansion, and the three men got inside. Keith followed Marc and Byron to Byron’s study, where the man immediately fired up his computer.

They watched the footage over and over. Byron started tapping on his keyboard again and did things that neither Marc nor Keith understood. Then the man froze a few images and turned his head to face Marc and Keith; he said, “I can pinpoint how far they drove before they turned around and headed back to town. “Look at how slow they are driving. It’s as if they are looking for something.” “Or someone,” said Marc.

“We need to go back to that dirt road and investigate the ditch because if Bailey escaped from a moving car?” “Then he is hurt,” Keith softly said. “Exactly,” Byron replied in a low voice. Neither of the three wanted to think about the possibility that Bailey could be dead.

“Look, come here and look,” Byron yelled. Keith and Marc hurried over to where Byron stood. “Sweet Jesus,” Keith whispered. “Dear God,” Marc whispered when he saw the damaged bushes alongside the road. Marc shone with his flashlight and cursed again because if Bailey had escaped at this point, he would have fallen deep. One couldn’t see it right away because of the trees and bushes, but it went down steeply here.

“We need rope. Do you have rope in your car?” Byron said. Marc frowned because he honestly wouldn’t know. He went to his car, opened the trunk, and cursed when he didn’t see a rope. Well, who the hell would have a rope in their car? “No rope, but I’ll go and get some; we have a rope in the garage,” Mark informed his brother and Keith.

They watched Marc drive away. “I’ll try to climb down; there are enough branches where I can find grip,” said Byron. Before Keith could protest, Byron disappeared into the bushes. Keith cursed because Marc would have his head if Byron got hurt. Well, there was not much that he could do now.

“Are you alright?” Keith yelled when he heard Byron curse. “I’m okay,” a panting Byron replied. Keith sighed in relief; the man was alright, thank God. “Byron?” Keith yelled when he heard branches break. “Byron? Please answer me. Are you okay? Byron? Talk to me, please?” Keith kept yelling. He turned when he heard a car approaching; it was Marc. Shit.

“What’s wrong?” Marc questioned when he didn’t see Byron but saw the panic in Keith’s eyes. “Byron didn’t want to wait until you came back with the rope. He said that he wanted to try to climb down to see if he could find Bailey,” Keith informed the hitman. Marc shook his head. “That’s typical, Byron. Never the patience to wait,” he said, surprising the hell out of Keith. “You thought that I would be angry because Byron went down there?” Marc chuckled.

A shouting from beneath had both men look at the bushes. “I found Bailey,” Byron yelled; the voice came from far, which made Marc wonder just how far down his brother was. Marc started to bind the rope around a sturdy-looking tree. “Call nine-one-one,” he said to Keith, then grabbed the rope and started his way down.

Marc felt the sharp branches tear his clothes and skin, but he didn’t care. All Marc wanted was to find Byron and Bailey alive. It took more than fifteen minutes before Marc reached the spot where Byron was holding Bailey in his arms.

“Are you alright?” Marc questioned because Byron was a bloody mess. “Yeah, those branches are a bitch,” Byron answered; he looked at Marc and said in a low voice, “Bailey is severely wounded; he needs help, and fast.” Marc looked at the man that was lying motionless in Byron’s arms. “Keith has called for help; the paramedics should be here any minute now,” Marc said, and a second later, they heard someone calling their names.

Marc yelled that Bailey was wounded and that the man needed medical care immediately. The person communicating with Marc let him know that rescue workers were on their way down right that moment. Marc’s blood was boiling when he saw in which condition Bailey was. The man’s skin on his arms, legs, and even his face was partly gone. Marc was glad that Bailey was unconscious because if not, he would have screamed in pain.

Chapter Nineteen

“Look at him,” Marc said as he watched a bandaged Bailey lying in the hospital bed. “He looks so small and fragile,” Keith softly replied. “The doctor said that a fall like that should have killed him, but it didn’t. So he’s not that fragile,” Marc spoke in a low voice. Keith smiled. “No, it didn’t kill him. You’re right; Bailey isn’t fragile; if anything, he’s very strong. He’s been through so much, and now this. Those two thugs better leave Bailey alone,” Keith’s soft voice had changed into one full of anger.

Marc raised his eyebrows; the man wasn’t angry; no, he was full of rage, he knew rage when he heard it, and this was definitely rage, no doubt about that. Marc eyed Keith for a moment, then he said, “You do know that those two won’t stop until they have him again, right?” “I know, and I won’t let that happen,” Keith said through gritted teeth.

“We won’t let that happen,” said Byron, making both men turn. “I like the guy, and my brother, well, he likes Bailey even more,” Byron said. Keith wasn’t surprised because he had seen the look in Marc’s eyes every time the man had eyed Bailey. Keith opened his mouth, but then he closed it again.

“There’s something that you need to know because if you’re participating in protecting Bailey, then the both of you should know what you’re up against,” Keith said, then he motioned for Byron and Marc to follow him. They went to the park, where they had more privacy because the small park that belonged to the hospital was almost void of people.

Marc and Byron sat down on one of the benches, and both men looked expectantly at Keith. Then Keith told them about how Bailey and Brendan had landed in the witness protection program.

Marc and Byron weren’t surprised, and it showed, and Keith didn’t miss that either. “Neither of you looks surprised,” Keith said, looking from Marc to Byron and finally let his gaze rest on Marc. Yep, the man was perceptive; Marc had underestimated that, and that wasn’t like him.

“You knew already, right?” Keith whispered; he didn’t want to get loud because even though it appeared that they were alone in the small park, one could never know. Byron looked at Marc, and the man’s expression said it all; lying wouldn’t do them any good because this was about Bailey’s safety.

“Well, sort of,” Marc finally itted. Keith didn’t look amused, and Marc couldn’t blame him. “I don’t understand. How did you get that information? What was the reason to get background information about Bailey?” Keith fired question after question. “I swear if you’re here to harm him.” “Calm down, Keith. My brother and I aren’t going to harm Bailey. However, we will harm the ones who are after him,” Marc promised. He would kill them for sure, but he didn’t tell Keith that.

Keith eyed them intently; finally, he said, “Who are you?” Marc looked confused. “What do you mean, I’m Marc Blake, and this,” he pointed at Byron, “Is my brother, Byron.” “Very funny. I know your names, but what I don’t know is, who you really are. Or do I need to ask what you are?” Keith said, and Marc could tell that the man was getting angry. Plus, they needed to get back to Bailey. No one knew that Bailey was back in town, but the man still was in danger.

“Tell me. We need to be honest with each other if we want to keep Bailey safe. I don’t know you, but my gut feeling tells me that something isn’t right,” Keith said. Marc knew that he had to give the man something, without telling him that he was an assassin. “I like Bailey. I like him a lot. Then I went to see him, and you were there, and you weren’t very friendly. You were protective, but you’re not gay. So, I asked myself, why are you so protective of Bailey? It aroused my curiosity, so I asked my little brother if he could get some information about

him,” Marc explained, and he hoped that Keith would buy it.

“That sounds plausible, but I know that there’s more; this isn’t the entire story. You are holding back. Why?” said Keith. Marc sighed because he knew that this man wouldn’t be satisfied until Marc had told him the truth. Shit, this was not good.

“We are here for quite some time now; why don’t we go inside and see if Bailey is awake?” said Byron. Keith eyed Byron intently, and for a moment, Marc thought that Keith would refuse, but then to his relief, the man relented.

Bailey was awake when they entered the room. Marc could see that Bailey was in pain, so he pressed the red button to summon a doctor. “How are you feeling, baby?” Marc questioned while he gently stroked the hair out of the man’s face. “Pain,” Bailey croaked. “The doctor is on his way, sweetheart,” Marc soothed. Bailey softly moaned, and then he closed his eyes again.

******

“Your wounds are healing nicely,” said Marc as he covered Bailey with a blanket and took the chair opposite Bailey. They were sitting on the back deck, and even though the sun didn’t shine, it wasn’t cold. Nevertheless, Bailey had requested a blanket, and Marc had gone inside to get one.

It was two weeks after they had rescued Bailey, and physically, the man was healing rapidly. Marc’s concern was the emotional state that Bailey was in because he was too quiet. Emotional wounds aren’t visible; that’s why people with emotional problems mostly suffered in silence. A broken leg one could see,

but the pain that was inside of someone was invisible. So, Marc had decided to keep a close eye on the man that he was slowly falling in love with. It was a thought that hit him hard. Was he falling in love with Bailey?

Marc sighed; maybe his mind and soul allowed him to develop feelings for Bailey, now that he knew that the man wasn’t Fabian Copely. “Are you alright?” Bailey’s soft voice shook Marc out of his thoughts. He eyed the man opposite him and smiled. “Yeah, I’m fine, but I worry about you, Bailey,” Marc replied in honesty.

“Why? My body is healing perfectly; the doctors are satisfied,” Bailey replied. Marc debated with himself if he should tell Bailey why he was worried. Most people didn’t like it when they were questioned about their emotional state. Still, he had to be honest, at least with Bailey. Yep, he was definitely falling for the man.

Keith and Marc had told Bailey how they had discovered that he was taken, how he had fallen through the bushes and had disappeared into the depths. Bailey had been shocked to hear what had happened and especially how they had found them. He knew that Keith cared enough to start searching, but apparently, Marc and Byron cared a lot about him too. Why else would they team up with Keith?

Bailey knew that he was lucky to be alive because this particular part of the mountain road ran along the steepest part. Tumbling down that part of the mountain road should have killed him, but he had survived, and now it was time to end the pity party and participate in life again.

He had heard the worry in Marc’s voice when the man had uttered his concern about his emotional state of mind had been a wake-up call for Bailey. He barely recognized himself because this wasn’t who he was, throwing himself a pity

party. No, enough was enough. Bailey was a cheerful person, who loved life, but Brendan’s death and the attempt to kidnap him had taken their toll. Not to forget the knowledge that someone still was after him and wanted him dead.

“Would you walk with me?” Bailey asked. The question was so unexpected that Marc didn’t reply immediately. “It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Bailey softly said. “What? No no, I would love to walk with you. We could take a stroll through the garden; it’s big enough. That way, if you get tired, I could carry you back to the house,” Marc said. Bailey thought that Marc was joking, but the man didn’t laugh; in fact, his expression was serious. “That sounds good,” Bailey said.

They walked to the back of the garden where different fruit trees stood, and Bailey was mesmerized by the diversity. “I didn’t know that you had an orchard and a large one at that,” Bailey whispered. “I have a gardener who keeps the trees in shape. He and his wife are turning the fruit into all kinds of fruit compote; it tastes delicious,” Marc said, smiling. “There’s something else I want to show you,” Marc said as he gently guided Bailey to another part of the garden.

“That’s beautiful,” Bailey whispered in awe as they stopped at a particular part of the garden. “This is for the bees, butterflies, and all the other insects which need a safe place. My gardener pointed out that each year there are fewer insects, so I told him to create a natural habitat for the insects and other animals,” Marc explained. Bailey noticed that the man was proud that his garden was turned into a natural habitat for all sorts of animals. It was at that moment that Bailey realized that he was falling in love with Marc Blake.

Chapter Twenty

Marc smiled at the thought of how Bailey had been impressed with the garden, yep he was falling for the man, and he didn’t mind. Bailey was kind, funny, and so freaking sexy.

Today they would go to Bailey’s apartment because Bailey had to check the mail, and he wanted to reopen the shop again. For that to happen, he needed to buy flowers and others supplies. Marc would accompany him to make sure that Bailey was safe. Keith would spend time at Vintage Treasures, Brendan’s antique shop, because Bailey wanted to reopen that shop too. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to continue with Vintage Treasures, but Bailey knew he wanted to keep Vintage Treasurers. It was the only thing that was left of Brendan, and the man had loved his little shop. Sure, Bailey carried Brendan in his heart, he always would, but still, he needed something tangible.

Marc had parked his car two blocks from the flower shop because he expected that whoever was after Bailey would keep the Flower Hut under surveillance; it’s what Marc would do. He had explained that to Bailey when he had asked why Marc parked the car away from the flower shop.

Bailey hurried to reach the stairs that led to his apartment, but Marc was faster, and his hand on Bailey’s arm stopped the man from ascending the stairs. “Wait,” Marc whispered. Bailey frowned, but when he saw Marc’s expression, he knew that something wasn’t right. “Listen,” Marc whispered again. Bailey listened, and just when he wanted to let Marc know that he didn’t hear anything, he heard it. Someone was in his apartment, damn!

Even though Marc was eager to go into the apartment and kick-ass, he didn’t want to enter because Bailey was with him, and he didn’t want to put him in even more danger. Someone was after Bailey, and this person was determined to kill him. Well, Byron would have to do more digging because they needed to know who was after Bailey and why? Marc silently guided Bailey away from the

apartment and the shop.

“But I need to order flowers and other things to reopen the shop again,” Bailey protested. “I know, baby. I know. But I believe that the two men who want you dead are in your apartment, doing God knows what. Marc expected that they would place a bomb that would explode as soon as someone entered the apartment.

“So, they know that I didn’t die that evening when I escaped after they kidnapped me,” Bailey’s voice was soft, but much to Marc’s surprise, it was steady. The man even sounded angry, and Marc didn’t know if he should be happy about that.

They stayed out of sight but close enough so they would see the men leave Bailey’s place. Marc had his phone at the ready; he would take pictures of the two. It was about time that he ended this once and for all. It was about time that Bailey could continue living his life again without having to look over his shoulder every time he heard something.

Bailey leaned heavily against Marc, and together they waited. It wasn’t long before two men carefully opened the front door of Bailey’s apartment. The first one looked left and right, and then both men hurried outside. “Scum,” Bailey mumbled. These two thugs had been in his apartment; it was terrifying, even so, if it were up to Bailey, then he would have gone in and kicked ass, even though he didn’t know how to fight.

As if he had read Bailey’s mind, Marc softly said, “Don’t worry, we will get them, one way or another.” And they would pay dearly, but that were Marc’s thoughts, and he wouldn’t share that with Bailey. Marc had taken pictures of the two men while they were leaving Bailey’s place, and he hoped that Byron would

be able to identify the two.

“I really want to reopen the shop; I’m afraid that I lose too many customers; otherwise,” Bailey whispered. Marc understood because the Flower Hut had only been open for six months, which wasn’t long to build a bond with customers. Nevertheless, Marc knew that they couldn’t enter the shop or Bailey’s apartment; it was simply too dangerous.

“Listen, baby. The last thing we want is to go inside with the possibility that we might trigger explosives. Your apartment and the shop could be booby-trapped; we need to secure things first before I let you inside the shop or the apartment. that those two men we just saw leaving your apartment placed a bomb under your car,” Marc said. And the moment he said the words, he regretted them because Bailey still was mourning Brendan.

Bailey flinched, but even so, he quietly said, “I want them dead. Does that make me a terrible person?” Marc put his arm around Bailey, held him tight, and said in a soothing voice, “No, that makes you human. After all, they killed your brother, and they are after you, and God only knows why. Isn’t there anything that you can think of why someone wants you dead?”

“I miss him so much,” Bailey whispered as he hastily wiped the tears from his face. Marc pulled Bailey even closer and gently kissed the top of his head. It felt good to hold the man in his arms; it felt damn good. “Come,” Marc said as he took Bailey’s hand. Together they walked to Marc’s car.

When they came home, Bailey immediately went into the garden. Marc had noticed that the garden, and especially the orchard, had become Bailey’s sanctuary. The man had told Marc that sitting under the fruit trees calmed him. It was where he had found his peace and quiet. “Do you want to eat something?

It’s almost time for lunch,” Marc said. Bailey looked up. Was he hungry? His stomach told him that he needed to eat, but the thought of food made him feel queasy. “I don’t know,” he finally replied.

Marc knew that Bailey needed to eat something, so he said, “I’ll make us something nice, and then I will be ing you, alright?” Bailey raised his eyebrows, didn’t say anything, but he nodded. Marc went inside and straight to Byron’s study, where he placed the phone on the desk. Since Byron was at work, it meant that Marc would have to wait until his brother came home to hand him the pictures that he had taken from the two thugs. Then he went into the kitchen to prepare sandwiches.

Even though Bailey wasn’t that hungry, he ate two sandwiches and emptied a glass of freshly pressed orange juice. Marc was relieved that Bailey had eaten because the man had skipped breakfast. He sat down beside Bailey and put his arm around the man’s shoulders and was surprised that Bailey leaned into him as he let his head rest on Marc’s shoulder. Marc had so many things to say, but he didn’t want to break this special moment.

Marc heard a car approach, and he knew that it was Byron. “I need to go inside for a while. Will you be alright?” Marc quietly said as he carefully removed his arm from Bailey’s shoulders. Bailey lifted his head, and their eyes met. “I want to go with you when you talk to Byron because this concerns me too,” he said, and even though he had spoken in a low tone, Marc had heard the message, loud and clear. Bailey wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Byron smiled when he saw Marc and Bailey coming toward him. The smile turned into a frown when he saw the grim expression on his brother’s face. “What’s wrong?” Byron asked. Marc put his arm around Bailey’s shoulders again and explained what had happened that morning when they wanted to get Bailey’s things out of his apartment.

Byron walked into his study and connected the phone to his laptop. He turned his head to eye Marc and said, “This will take a while. I’ll let you know the moment I have news, okay?” “That’s our cue to leave,” Marc chuckled. Bailey pressed his lips together as if he wanted to say something, but he quietly followed Marc to the back deck.

“What do we do now?” Bailey asked. Marc frowned. “What do you want to do?” “I want to go to my shop and order fresh flowers and the supplies I need before opening the shop,” Bailey answered. “Since that’s not possible, I want to go into the garden for a while,” he added. “The orchard,” Marc said. Bailey nodded. Marc knew that the garden was safe, so he didn’t need to stop Bailey from going to his favorite place, the orchard.

Marc went inside because Bailey had let him know, in a subtle way, that he wanted to be alone for a while. Marc strolled into Byron’s study, but the man still was busy with facial recognition. He shouldn’t have been, but he was stunned when he saw the computer program Byron was working with.

“Do I dare to ask how you got that program?” “You can, but I won’t answer,” Byron grinned. “You have way too much fun, little brother,” Marc chuckled. Byron didn’t reply; he was focused on the computer screen again.

Marc called Keith to ask if everything was alright, but the man didn’t answer his phone. He knew that Keith was preparing to reopen Vintage Treasures. Marc went into the garden to ask Bailey if he had heard from Keith. He found Bailey, as expected, in the orchard.

Bailey looked up and smiled when he saw Marc approach him. “Hey,” Marc

smiled. “Hey,” Bailey softly replied. Marc sat down in front of Bailey and gently stroked a stray lock of hair out of his face. Bailey leaned into the touch, and Marc saw that as a sign that he was allowed to touch the man. He let his fingers slowly glide over Bailey’s cheeks and liked it when he saw Bailey close his eyes.

Marc didn’t want to spoil the moment, but he had to ask Bailey if he had heard from Keith. It didn’t sit well with Marc that he couldn’t reach Keith, but he would enjoy being with Bailey for just a few minutes more.

It was after they had finished dinner that Bailey became worried because they still hadn’t been able to reach Keith. “Still nothing,” said Bailey as he put down the phone. “I know that he is out of town to visit an antique auction because he wanted to buy more things for Vintage Treasures. When Keith is on a mission, he often ignores his phone, or he’s leaving it behind in the car,” Bailey added. Marc could see that Bailey was worried, and he was too.

A loud thunder made Bailey jump, and Marc and Byron frown. “Was that an explosion we just heard?” Byron whispered. Marc nodded. “The Flower Hut. My apartment,” Bailey whispered. “Shit,” Byron and Marc said simultaneously.

Chapter Twenty One

Marc felt Bailey tremble, and he held him even tighter. They stood in front of what once was The Flower Hut and Bailey’s apartment. The fire department was still busy putting out the fire. A large area was cordoned with ribbons that read; police line do not cross. So, Bailey, Marc, and Byron weren’t able to come near Bailey’s apartment.

Bailey had spoken to one of the officers, Detective Dennis Murphy, and he had many questions. However, Bailey still was trembling, and the detective agreed with Marc that he would see Bailey the following day, downtown. Bailey was grateful that he didn’t need to talk to the detective right this minute. “Let’s go home; there’s nothing that we can do right now,” Marc said.

Bailey hadn’t said a word during the ride back to the mansion, and that worried Marc. It was dark when they arrived home, and Bailey went upstairs to his room to shower. Marc didn’t stop him because he knew that Bailey needed some alone time.

Somewhere in the house was a phone ringing. Marc recognized the ringtone and knew that it had to be Bailey’s phone. He walked into the living room and looked at the display; it wasn’t Keith because he knew that number.

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 ed 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 anything,” 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 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 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 that 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.

Chapter Twenty Three

“Are you alright?” Marc asked when he saw how pale Bailey was. They stood in front of what once had been Bailey’s apartment and flower shop; he eyed Marc and softly said, “I’m fine. It’s just. I don’t know. It’s hard to comprehend.” “I managed to hired contractors, and they start tomorrow. If you still want, then the shop could be operational in about three months,” Marc informed Bailey.

Bailey wasn’t sure if opening the shop again was worth risking his life. As long as they didn’t know who was after him, he would be in danger. Bailey also knew that Marc would assign him a bodyguard until they found the one who was after him.

Bailey sighed. Did he want to reopen the shop again? He didn’t know. Then there was the antique shop, Vintage Treasures, which had been Brendan’s antique shop. Maybe he would continue with that. Ah, who was he kidding? Bailey didn’t know modern stuff from antiques if his life depended on it.

“Right now, I’m not sure if I want to reopen the flower shop again,” Bailey finally confessed. Marc put his arm around Bailey; he said, “It doesn’t matter. Take all the time that you need. When the shop is ready, and you want to continue to sell flowers, then you do so. If not, that’s okay too. Whatever you decide, follow your heart.” “Wise words,” Bailey smiled. “Well, I do have my moments,” Marc grinned. “Let’s go,” Bailey said.

“A package has arrived for you,” said Byron as he pointed to the dining table. Bailey looked and saw the small brown package. He took it and eyed it from every side. “Aren’t you going to open it?” Marc said. Bailey looked thoughtful, but then he opened the kitchen drawer and took the scissors.

When Bailey opened the package, he peered inside and saw a book. It wasn’t the

book that shocked him, but the words he read, ‘Emily’s diary.’ What the hell? “What is it, baby?” Marc asked. Bailey didn’t reply; instead, he took the diary and showed it to Marc and Byron, who had ed him.

“It looks like your mother kept a journal, which might answer a lot of your questions,” Byron said. Bailey nodded; he was curious, and at the same time, afraid. Afraid that he might come across things that weren’t meant for him to know. “I’m not sure if I should read it because it is something so personal,” Bailey said.

“That’s true, but your mother is dead, and someone wanted you to have this diary. The question is, why? Your mother died five years ago in a car accident. You moved to Madison Valley three years ago. So, why now. Why send you the journal now and not directly after she died?” Byron softly said. He had used a low and calm tone because Byron knew how sensitive Bailey was when it concerned his mother or his brother.

“Yes, why now?” Bailey replied because that thought had crossed his mind too. “My mother never spoke of my father. She never told me who my father was. Whenever I asked, she was evasive and never gave me a straight answer. Well, now I understand why she never mentioned who my father was. I wouldn’t have mentioned it either,” Bailey softly said.

Marc gently stroked Bailey’s cheeks with the back of his fingers; he said, “Why don’t you go somewhere quiet so you can read your mother’s diary.” Bailey looked up, and their eyes locked; he said, “I want to go to the orchard if that’s alright.” “Of course, it’s okay,” Marc replied. Bailey asked because he knew that someone must be with him as long as his life was in danger.

“I’ll go with you,” said Keith, who just had entered the house. Vintage Treasures

was reopened, but only in the morning hours. Marc kissed Bailey on the cheek and watched him and Keith walk through the sliding doors. “He will be fine,” Byron assured his brother. Marc nodded, but he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Marc and Byron sat on the deck when Bailey and Keith walked up to them, and Marc didn’t like Bailey’s expression; the man looked haunted. Keith’s face was unreadable. “I need to talk to you,” Bailey softly said. “Okay,” Marc replied. Bailey looked uncomfortable; he finally said, “In private, please?”

“What is it that gave you that haunted look in your eyes,” Marc said when he had closed his bedroom door. Bailey bit his lip. “I want to read a part of my mother’s diary to you. If that’s okay.” Bailey’s voice was so soft that it was a near whisper, but Marc had heard him. “Of course, it’s alright, but only if you’re sure. I know that a diary is very private,” Marc replied.

Bailey didn’t comment; instead, he opened the diary and started to read out loud.

July 16, 1994

Today I saw Mario kill my dear brother Nathan. He didn’t know that I was home because I should have been visiting my mother. However, my mother was away for a few days to see her sister. So, I was home and decided to get some fresh flowers from the garden.

That’s when I saw Mario and Nathan, they were arguing, and they didn’t know that I was there as well. Suddenly, Mario had a gun, fired, and my dear brother died right then and there. It was horrible, and I knew that I couldn’t stay married to this man any longer.

July 22, 1994

Today I told Mario that I had seen what he had done and that I would leave him because of it. Even though Mario killed my beloved brother, which broke my heart, I can’t hate him. I feel terrible because of my feelings for him. I still love Mario, and that will probably never change. There’s nothing that I can do about my feelings, but I can distance myself from him.

July 23, 1994

As expected, Mario isn’t planning on letting me go, but I was adamant.

Bailey stopped and looked at Marc. “My father killed my uncle? How bad is that? I mean to murder his own family because my uncle was family, right?” “I guess so,” Marc replied cautiously. “Did you read the rest?” Marc asked. Bailey shook his head. “No, I wanted to do that together with you. I love Keith like a brother, and I do trust him, don’t get me wrong, but I want you by my side when I read the rest,” Bailey explained. “I feel safe with you,” Bailey added when he saw Marc’s expression.

Marc smiled, “I’m honored and flattered that you think so highly of me, Bailey,” he replied before he leaned toward Bailey and kissed him on the lips. It was a light touching of lips, and Bailey wouldn’t even call it a real kiss, but he liked it very much.

The urge to push the man onto the pillows and kiss the living daylights out of

him, but the need to read a bit more from the diary was bigger. So, Bailey started reading again.

September 3, 1994

It took me a while to collect myself and face the fact that I abandoned two of my children.

I have settled in at my new home, and I need to get my life back on track for Brendan and Bailey, my precious boys. It nearly killed me that I had to leave my two other precious boys behind, with their father. That was Mario’s demand; I was allowed to leave, but only when Robert and Fabian stayed with him. How do they call it? Oh, yes, the heir and the spare.

When I left them, a piece of me died, and it felt like my soul was ripped into pieces; I will never be whole again, life will never be the same again. I have to go on because I still have two boys that need their mother. Robert and Fabian need me as well, but I can’t be there for them, and that hurts so much.

October 9, 1994

As of today, Bailey and Brendan will carry my maiden name as their last name. From now on, they are called Brendan and Bailey Hatcher, no more Delossantos, no more violence! Mario agreed to change Brendan and Bailey’s last name into Hatcher only because he had Robert, his heir, and Fabian his spare. Mario told me that if anything happened to Robert, Fabian would take his place, and he would be trained to be his successor.

Even though I went along and agreed to leave Robert and Fabian with Mario, I have the intention of getting them away from him as soon as I can. It’s not going to be easy, but I’ll try anyway. The man has no feelings whatsoever, none. Right now, I’m afraid that he will come back and take Brendan and Bailey from me. But I swear to God, I will kill him if he makes that mistake.

October 12, 1994

Brendan and Bailey are settling in just fine, but they still ask where their daddy is. I have to lie to them, and that makes me feel bad because Mario will always be their father, whether I like it or not.

Damn Mario Delossantos, I wish that I had never met that man. Then again, I wouldn’t have four beautiful sons, and that’s the only good thing that came out of our marriage.

Chapter Twenty Four

“How are you feeling?” Marc asked when he saw Bailey sitting under the apple tree. When Bailey wasn’t in the house, Marc knew that Bailey was in the garden, in the orchard to be precise. The man loved the quiet and serenity the orchard provided.

Bailey looked up, and once again, Marc was stunned by the beautiful, big, warm green eyes that gazed at him. “I don’t know. My thoughts and feelings are all over the place. I’m angry, confused, sad, and so much more,” Bailey softly replied.

“Alright, baby. I’ll leave you be. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?” Marc said and was about to turn and walk away when Bailey asked him to stay. “Are you sure? I don’t feel offended if you want to be alone for a while to gather your thoughts,” Marc said in a gentle tone.

Bailey shook his head because he didn’t want to be alone; he wanted Marc to keep him company. He felt like he could tell Marc everything, Bailey didn’t understand it, but he trusted Marc completely. He trusted Marc even more than he trusted Keith, and that thought made him frown.

“You’re thinking too hard, baby,” Marc chuckled when he saw the expression on Bailey’s face. “It’s nothing,” Bailey said. Marc nodded; he said, “Did you continued with your mother’s journal after I left?” “No, I couldn’t. I need time to digest everything that I have read so far. Plus, it still feels like I violate her privacy. It’s strange because I know that she’s dead, but still,” Bailey replied.

Marc sat down beside Bailey and considered him for a while. The man had integrity, and Marc liked that in a person, especially if it was a person that he more than liked. It was then that Marc knew that he was falling for Bailey

Hudson. Yep, he was falling hard, and that thought hit him like a freight train.

“I like being with you,” Bailey quietly itted. “I like being with you too,” Marc replied, and it was true. He didn’t want Bailey for a one-night-stand; Marc didn’t like meaningless sex with strangers. No, Marc needed to have feelings for the man he slept with, and he was rapidly developing feelings for Bailey. Marc didn’t fight it anymore because there was no need. Bailey wasn’t Fabian Copely, so Marc could give in to his feelings for the man.

He’d never thought to get a second chance at love, but here it was, in the form of Bailey Hudson. Marc’s phone rang; it was Byron. “Hey,” Marc said when he answered the call. There was no greeting from Byron; instead, he said, “Your work phone keeps ringing; it must be urgent.” “Alright, thanks for the heads up,” Marc replied, then he excused himself as he headed for the house.

Marc wondered who it could be because only a few people had that particular number. He went inside the house and into Byron’s study. The man still was searching for more information about Bailey and the Delossantos Family. To find out the connection between Bailey and the mob family hadn’t really shocked Marc, but he was slightly rattled by it, nonetheless.

The moment Marc neared the study, he heard the phone ringing; shit, what the hell? “Hello,” Marc said cautiously. “Hey, old friend,” said a familiar voice. Marc frowned because this was Lucas, and he never called, especially not on his work-related cell phone.

“Hey, my friend, how are you?” Marc asked, keeping his tone neutral because he didn’t know why Lucas called him. It could mean that they had tortured him for information and were tracing him right this minute. They didn’t have numbers saved on their work phones; it was too dangerous. Then again, Lucas would

never betray him; Marc thought the same; he would never give up Lucas’ number, no matter what.

“Long time no see, can we meet?” Lucas said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Sure, where?” Marc replied; he was curious if Lucas knew where he lived. “The Flower shop parking lot,” Lucas said. Of course, Lucas knew where he lived, just as he knew where Lucas lived.

Marc and Lucas had become friends after Marc had saved Lucas’s life. Someone had assigned both Lucas and another hitman to kill the same person. Lucas had been faster, and that had enraged the other hitman. If Marc hadn’t been at the right place at the right time, the scumbag would have shot Lucas in the back.

Then, both men clicked off, ending the call. At the questioning look Byron gave him, Marc informed his brother that another assassin, a friend of Marc’s, was in town and wanted to meet with him. He also told Byron his suspicion that more trouble might lay ahead of them.

Marc went into the garden and straight to the orchard, where he knew he would find Bailey. Bailey smiled when he saw Marc approach, but his smile vanished when he saw the man’s expression. “What’s wrong?” he questioned, and Marc could hear the worry in the man’s voice.

“Everything is fine, a friend called, and he wants to meet, so I’ll be gone for a few hours. Byron is here, and Keith is on his way too. So you’re safe.” Marc cupped Bailey’s face and kissed him gently on his soft lips. This time, however, Bailey didn’t let him go so easily. He wrapped his arms around Marc’s neck and demanded entrance.

Marc was surprised but parted his lips, and their tongues slowly danced around each other. Bailey softly moaned, which made it even harder for Marc to leave the man. As it was, he had no choice because Lucas wanted to talk to him, which meant trouble most of the time. Marc gently pulled away from Bailey’s full, soft lips and chuckled when the man protested.

Marc drove to the parking lot and found a vacant slot at the edge. He stayed in the vehicle because he knew that Lucas was already there and had seen him. The man would come to him, so Marc waited. It took about ten minutes before Lucas opened the door on the engers’ side of Marc’s car and slid onto the seat.

“So, how are you doing? You like living here in Madison Valley?” Lucas questioned. “Yeah, it’s okay. It’s nice and quiet, and that’s exactly how I want it,” Marc replied. “How about you? Are you still in the business?” Marc asked. Lucas nodded. “Yep, still love what I do,” Lucas grinned.

Marc decided that they had exchanged enough pleasantries; he said, “So, what brings you to Madison Valley?” “The assignment that you refused,” Lucas replied without missing a beat. “Care to enlighten me?” Marc said. “I refused that same assignment,” Lucas said, which stunned Marc. “Are you kidding me? Why?” Marc questioned. “Just like you, I only kill those who deserve to die. As far as I know, Keith is a decent person. And I don’t understand why they gave us that assignment. They know that we don’t kill innocents,” said Lucas.

“Something isn’t right; I have a bad feeling about it. But that’s not why you’re here,” Marc said. Lucas shook his head. “No, there’s someone who took the assignment, and he is on his way to Madison Valley, as we speak,” Lucas informed Marc. “Are you kidding?” Marc shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was. He knew that they would send another assassin after Keith.

“Do you know who?” Marc questioned because he knew most of his, well, colleagues. Lucas sighed, and Marc knew that when the man sighed, it was a bad sign. “Bobby,” Lucas answered. Marc knew that Bobby took every assignment that he could get; the man had no scruples. “Well, thanks for the heads up. I need to take precautions to not only keep Bailey safe, and even though he’s a former FBI agent, Keith needs protection as well,” Marc said.

“Looks like you need some help, my friend,” Lucas said. Marc knew that, too, because for him to guard both Bailey and Keith would be impossible. “If you’re okay with it, then I could help you guard Keith and Bailey. Plus, we could hunt Bobby down so that I can kill him,” Lucas said.

Marc looked thoughtful because then he had to let the man stay at his home as well. It didn’t matter, though, because Marc suspected that Lucas already knew where he lived. “I know where you live. Nice house, large property, beautiful orchard,” Lucas grinned. Marc smiled too; of course, Lucas knew; Marc also knew where Lucas lived or where the man had his apartment. Lucas was seldom home. Marc knew that Lucas would settle down eventually.

Marc drove away from the parking lot. Lucas would follow him. They had agreed that Lucas would help guard Bailey and Keith and that together, they would find and kill Bobby. Now, all Marc had to do was inform Byron, Keith, and Bailey. That was, of course, an opportunity to tell Keith that someone was after him. That someone wanted to see him dead.

Chapter Twenty Five

“Can you run that by me again? Because I believe that you just said that I’m the target of an assassin?” Keith said, and to say that he was shocked was an understatement. Lucas nodded. “Yep, and the one they send is the worst kind because he doesn’t mind who he has to kill; he gets off on it,” Lucas quietly replied.

Marc eyed Bailey because the man hadn’t said a word ever since Marc had informed him and Byron and Keith about the assassin who was on his way to town to kill Keith. “Are you alright, baby?” Marc asked in a low, soothing voice.

Bailey looked up, and it took a few seconds before he said, “I’m so pissed off, right now. Brendan died because someone put a bomb under my car, and why? No one seems to know. All that I know is that for whatever reason, some unknown person is out there, and he wants me dead. Then I find out that I have two more brothers and that I’m one of a twin who was killed, murdered, it seemed, and reading my mother’s journal left me with more questions than answers. My twin was murdered in cold blood; who would do such a thing? Now they are after Keith as well. So, no, I’m not alright,” Bailey snapped, and then he stormed off.

Keith stopped Marc when he was about to go after Bailey. “Give him time to calm down. He is safe here, right?” Keith said. Marc nodded. “Yes, he is, or should be,” Marc said when they heard Bailey scream. Byron, Keith, Lucas, and Marc stormed into the garden and straight to the orchard.

The four men came to an abrupt halt when all they saw was Bailey on his knees and screaming his anger, frustration, and grief to the heavens. It broke Marc’s heart to see Bailey like this. The man looked broken, and Marc hoped and prayed that he had it wrong. He felt powerless, and that made him even more pissed off. Marc would gladly kill Bobby, and he would if he got the chance.

The four men silently retreated, so Bailey would never know that they had witnessed his nervous breakdown. “I want them all six feet under,” Marc seethed. Everyone knew that he meant the assassin who was on his way to kill Keith and the ones who were after Bailey. “You have to get in line because Bobby is mine,” Keith said in a low and dangerous voice. Marc frowned, Byron looked surprised, and Lucas chuckled.

Lucas considered Keith for a while, then he said, “So, Keith, you want to kill Bobby? You are a former FBI agent; then you know that it’s against the law, right?” Keith’s expression was grim. “I’m perfectly aware of that. However, as you said, I’m a former FBI agent, this is about my life, and that of Bailey,” Keith said, then he continued in a low voice, “I wasn’t able to save Brendan, but I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to Bailey.”

“We will get them, and then they will pay, with their lives. I don’t care who they are or who hired them. It is war, and this is about survival,” Marc said. “Agreed,” said Lucas, and Keith and Byron agreed as well. “Agreed,” said a soft voice.

“Hey baby, is everything alright?” Marc asked as he rose from the chair and went to the man he already loved so very much. “Come here and sit with me,” Marc said as he gently guided Bailey to the love seat.

Bailey eyed Byron. “Did you find out who is after me?” he asked. Byron shook his head. “No, not yet. We don’t have much to go on,” he softly replied. “I want this nightmare to end,” Bailey said. “We all do, baby,” Marc replied as he wrapped his arm around Bailey’s shoulders.

Byron had cooked dinner, and to Marc’s astonishment, Bailey had eaten quite a bit. They were in the living room talking when Bailey excused himself because he was tired and wanted to get some much-needed sleep. Marc followed Bailey to his room and closed the door behind them.

“I wanted some alone time with you,” he said after seeing the questioning look Bailey gave him. “I said alone time, and that’s exactly what I meant. I’m not here to seduce you or anything. I want you to relax. We could watch TV together, if you like,” Marc offered because he saw that Bailey was on his guard, and that wasn’t what he wanted. All that Marc wanted was Bailey’s trust and that the man felt comfortable when alone with him.

“I’m sorry, but I’m on edge right now. I can’t seem to find some peace and quiet,” Bailey itted. What he wanted more than anything, right now, was to be in Marc’s arms and that the man held him until he slept because he felt safe with Marc, but he didn’t tell him that.

Bailey considered Marc for a while, and his following words threw Marc of kilter. “Exactly, who are you? I know that your name is Marcus Blake and that your family is filthy rich, but I don’t know you.” “I can see that right now, you feel uncomfortable,” Bailey softly added.

Marc sighed because of all things; this was the last thing he’d expected. Marc opened his mouth, but Bailey shut him down by adding, “If you’re not able to tell me the truth, then don’t say anything at all. I may be naive, but don’t take me for a fool.”

Marc knew that either he had to come clean and tell Bailey the truth or don’t say anything at all. The man was right; he wasn’t a fool. Marc decided not to enlighten Bailey for now because now was not the right time. Yep, he would

wait until the right time.

“I’m exhausted, so why don’t you the others,” Bailey said as he went into the adjacent bathroom. Marc was flabbergasted. What the hell had just happened? Had Bailey dismissed him? It sure seemed that way. For a second, Marc thought about staying and talk to Bailey, but he knew that it wouldn’t be wise. It was clear that Bailey wanted to be alone right now.

Bailey opened the bathroom door and was relieved that Marc was gone. Having the man and a bed so near was too much. Bailey didn’t want to get involved with Marc, not until he got to know him better. He had restrained himself from jumping the man’s bones.

Marc strode into the living room. “Where is Lucas?” he asked when he didn’t see the man present. “He went into town because Bobby can arrive any minute now. Marc nodded because that was typical Lucas.

It was in the afternoon when Lucas returned to the mansion and, the expression on the man’s face told Marc all he needed to know. “He’s here, isn’t he?” “Yes, the idiot is staying at the Madison House,” Lucas informed. Marc frowned because this was not how they operated. Marc never stayed in the same town that his target lived in; that was insane.

“Why would he stay at the Madison House? Madison Valley is a small town, and the residents will notice a stranger, especially when the man travels alone. It doesn’t make any sense,” Marc replied. “Yep, it was why we knew about the thugs who are after Bailey. Byron heard all about two strangers that had arrived in town.

Should Keith got killed, the residents of Madison Valley would the stranger who’d come to town and had disappeared after the murder. So, yes, it was an insane risk that Bobby took. Then again, the man was an idiot.

“Now we can plan our strategy because we need to kill him as soon as possible,” Lucas said matter-of-factly. “We need to get him away from town; then we put a bullet in his head,” Marc said. Lucas nodded; he liked that idea very much.

“Since he’s after me, I will be the one who lures him out of town,” Keith offered. Lucas and Marc nodded in agreement. “Any ideas of how we’re going to pull that off?” Byron said. The man had been quiet, but he had listened.

“I believe that you already have an idea?” Marc questioned because he had seen the twinkle in Byron’s eyes. “I do.” When no one spoke, Byron went on. “We need to let Bobby know that Keith is planning to visit some restaurant or whatever, out of town. If Bobby is smart, then he sees this as an opportunity to murder Keith. He will follow Keith out of town; then you can take him out,” a smug-looking Byron said.

“Sounds good, but how do we let Bobby know?” Lucas questioned. “Simple, really,” replied Byron. “We need him to hear Keith, telling me that he will be out of town for a meeting at some restaurant,” Byron informed.

“Alright, it still sounds good, but how do we get him to eavesdrop on you?” Lucas said, frowning. “If we knew where Bobby has dinner tonight, then we could stage the scene,” Byron said. “I know where he has dinner tonight,” Lucas grinned. “The idiot made a reservation at Peter’s Place, under his real name,” said Lucas.

“How on earth did you find that out?” Byron questioned, and Marc saw that his brother was impressed. “I made some calls, pretending to be Bobby, asking them if they could confirm my reservation. I know that Pete’s Place requires reservations for dinner, so I started with them, and bingo,” Lucas smirked.

Chapter Twenty Six

It didn’t sit well with Marc to involve his younger brother, but it was the best chance they had. They would only get one shot at killing Bobby. Keith and Byron entered Pete’s Place before Bobby would arrive. Byron knew the cook who worked at Pete’s Place, so he managed to get a table next to Bobby.

Keith told Byron that he had an appointment at the Backyard Paradise, just out of town. Then they had dinner, and Keith said goodbye. Byron sighed; he only hoped that Keith would survive the whole ordeal. Now it was up to Lucas and Marc to eliminate Bobby and keep Keith alive.

Keith drove to the Backyard Paradise and parked the car somewhat away from the restaurant. He got out of the vehicle and glanced around, then he took his phone and dialed. It had to look as if Keith’s appointment was late, and Keith would wait by his vehicle. Marc saw another car approach, and he instinctively knew that it was Bobby in his rental. Lucas had asked Marc if he was allowed to take the bastard out. Marc hadn’t mind. After all, this was Marc’s turf, and Lucas respected that. If it had been on Lucas’ turf, then he would need to ask permission to take out Bobby.

The car came to a halt and dimmed the lights. Now Marc and Lucas knew for sure that it was Bobby. They used night-vision goggles, which made it possible to see Bobby’s every move in the dark. The man exited the vehicle and went around the parking lot until he had found the best spot to kill Keith. It was the exact spot that Marc and Lucas knew Bobby would choose. Now it all came down to be quicker than Bobby; otherwise, he would kill Keith.

Lucas put his rifle in position and glanced through the scope. “Yes, a little

further, come on, bastard,” Lucas murmured. Marc didn’t say anything because he knew that Lucas needed to concentrate on the target. Plus, he didn’t need to tell him what to do.

“Yeah, perfect,” Lucas whispered to himself, then he pulled the trigger. It was hunting season, so no one would be alarmed by a shot in the night.

“Is it done?” Bailey quietly asked when Marc, Lucas, and Keith returned to the mansion. “Yes, baby, Bobby won’t hurt anyone anymore,” Marc said cautiously. “Good,” Bailey replied. He didn’t want to know what they had done with the body because it would only give him nightmares. “Well, I’m glad that you were faster than this Bobby guy,” Keith said. A grinning Lucas nodded.

Marc was still puzzled about the ones that were after Bailey. Couldn’t it be the Delossantos Family after all? They were mafia, so, who knew? They were in the sunroom, enjoying drinks and finger food when Marc’s phone rang.

Marc frowned because he didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?” he said as he answered the call. “Hello, Mr. Blake, this is Mario Delossantos. I think that we need to meet each other.” Marc was stunned but recovered quickly.

“ Mr. Delossantos, what can I do for you?” he asked. Marc had said the name on purpose so that everyone in the room knew what was going on. Bailey shot upright at hearing the name. Lucas frowned, and Byron was eyeing his brother closely.

“Why do you want to meet with me, Mr. Delossantos?” Marc questioned innocently. “I think that you know that answer to your question,” Mario

chuckled. “Yes, I believe that I do. My only question is, why?” Marc said, knowing fully well that he wouldn’t get his answer while on the phone.

“We really need to talk,” Mario was adamant. Marc knew that he didn’t have a choice, not really because apparently, the man knew that Bailey was with him. That meant that he knew where Marc lived. Mario was a mafia boss, and he had his s, just like Marc and Lucas had theirs.

Marc also knew that just like him, Mario wouldn’t discuss anything important over the phone because it was too risky. “Alright, let’s meet,” Marc finally said. Mario told him that they would meet at the Tea House, which surprised Marc. “What can I say? I’m a sweet tooth,” Mario laughed as he ended the call.

Everyone looked at him when Marc put the phone down on the table. “Was that who I think it was?” Bailey whispered. Marc nodded. “That was Mario Delossantos, your father,” he said. “What did he want?” “He wants to meet with me. My guess is that he wants to discuss you,” Marc said.

“Are you going to meet with him?” “Yes, because if he’s up to something, then I need to know,” Marc calmly replied. “I want to go with you,” Bailey said. Marc shook his head. “I don’t think so. First, I need to know what he wants. If he’s here to kill you, then we have a problem,” Marc said.

Bailey scowled. “You’re so cute when you look like that,” Marc teased. “I’m not cute,” Bailey retorted. “Yes, you are, baby,” Marc insisted as he kissed Bailey on the temple. Marc would meet with Mario within the hour, which let him know that the man was already in Madison Valley. No, he wouldn’t be in Madison Valley, but he was near, of that Marc was sure.

“I need to go now and see what it is that Mario wants,” Marc said. Lucas offered to go with Marc as his backup, but Marc declined. “I need you here, just in case,” he said. Lucas nodded; he knew what Marc wasn’t saying.

“Here, wear this,” Byron said as he held a small silver chain with a medallion hanging on it in front of him. “The medallion has a tracker; that way, I can trace you were ever you go,” Byron explained at seeing the confused expression on his brother’s face.

“Good thinking, Byron. Thank you!” Marc said, and he meant it. Who’d have thought that his baby brother and he would, one day, work together, side by side? Marc knew that Lucas would protect Bailey, as would Keith and Byron. So, he kissed Bailey on the top of his head, and then he left.

Marc parked the car two blocks down, and then he walked toward the Tea House while scanning his surroundings. Nothing happened, and when he entered the Tea House, he saw Mario Delossantos sitting at the table by the window. The man was ruggedly handsome, and Marc knew that Bailey, Brendan, and Fabian came after their mother, Emily. Robert was the only son who looked exactly like his father, thick, dark hair, a long straight nose, and a strong jawline.

Marc had seen a picture of Robert; the man had cold eyes. Was he a psychopath, just like Fabian had been? It wouldn’t surprise Marc.

Mario rose from his chair and held out his hand in greeting. Without hesitation, Marc took the offered hand. “So, what is it that you want from me?” Marc began. “I will tell you, but first, we eat and drink. I’m Italian; it’s how we do things,” Mario explained, and Marc knew that if he wanted answers, then he better order something to drink and a sandwich.

After they’d finished and the waiter had cleared the table, Mario spoke. He told Marc about his wife and their children and how he had kept Fabian and Robert, hoping for Emily to return. Marc was a bit surprised that Mario seemed so sincere. He knew that the man spoke the truth because of Emily’s journal, which was now in Bailey’s possession.

“It surprises me that you are so honest.” “And now you wonder why?” Mario interrupted. Marc nodded. “I do,” he said. “I will tell you, but not here.” Mario regarded Marc for a while; his gaze was intense; he said, “How is my son?” Marc had expected this question, so it didn’t come as a surprise.

“He’s doing well, all things considered,” Marc said. He was sure that Mario knew about Brendan and the attempt on Bailey’s life. As if reading his mind, Mario said, “Yes, I know all about Brendan’s death and the attempt on Bailey’s life. I’m here to put an end to it. I want my son safe.”

Mario look left and right, then he said, “Let’s walk.” Marc didn’t protest because one never knew if someone was eavesdropping on them. “I was the one who hired Keith Aldridge to protect Bailey and Brendan. I was never after my boys, even though they nearly got me jailed for dumping that scumbag’s body,” Mario said in a low voice. Well, that information wasn’t really important right now because now it was all about Bailey’s safety. “I want to see my son,” Mario said all of a sudden. Marc wasn’t happy with that because, to him, Mario was a stranger. Would the man really kill his own son? He hadn’t landed in jail, and Mario didn’t look or sounded angry. If anything, the man looked tired, old, even.

“Are you alright, Mario?” Marc questioned; it was now that he saw the dark circles under the man’s eyes. Mario frowned, then the frown turned into confusion; he said, “I’m fine, I’m not dying if that’s what you think.” “No, that’s not what I thought. It’s just that you look, well, tired,” Marc said.

“I just want to talk to my son. Can you arrange that?” Mario asked. “I can ask Bailey if he wants to see you, but that’s all. It’s him who decides who he wants to see and who not,” Marc said. It was true, Bailey could make his own decisions, and Marc wouldn’t interfere or try to change Bailey’s mind. They talked for a while longer, and Marc promised to ask Bailey if he wanted to see Mario.

Chapter Twenty Seven

“I don’t know him, and I don’t want to see him,” said Bailey. “Are you sure?” “Yep,” Bailey replied, but Marc sensed hesitation in Bailey’s voice. “Just think about it, okay? I can go with you if you don’t want to see him on your own,” Marc offered.

Bailey opened his mouth, and then he closed it. Again, Marc noticed the hesitation; he said, “Why don’t you think about it. The man is really eager to see you and talk to you.” Bailey eyed Marc; he said, “What do you think? Is he sincere? How do I know that he doesn’t kill me if I agree to talk to him?”

“I know him just as well as you do, Baby. But, he seems sincere. As I said before, I can go with you if you don’t trust him enough to meet him one-onone,” Marc offered again. Bailey looked thoughtful; on the one hand, he wanted to speak with his father because he had so many questions. On the other, he didn’t know the man, and he certainly didn’t think of him as his father.

Marc was afraid that if Bailey didn’t give himself and his father a chance to talk, he would regret it. Plus, he had sensed the hesitation, and that told him that Bailey wanted to see Mario. Bailey was uncertain; could it be that he was afraid of Mario? “I want you there too when I see Mario.” Bailey’s voice made Marc focus on the here and now again.

Marc turned his head and eyed Bailey, the man he was in love with, and the thought should have shocked him, but it didn’t. Yes, he was in love with Bailey, and it felt good. He knew that this was his second chance at love, and he was going for it. He wouldn’t let Bailey slip.

“Of course, I’ll go with you when you meet with Mario,” Mario assured. “We can even take Lucas as a backup if that’s what you want,” Marc added. Bailey

shook his head. “No, just you because I think that you are perfectly capable of keeping me safe,” Bailey replied, surprising Marc. He liked the thought that Bailey felt safe with him, and he would do whatever it took to keep the man he was in love with safe.

“Shall I make arrangements to meet Mario?” “I guess so. You already talked to him,” Bailey replied, and the man looked relieved. “Do you have a preference what day and time?” Marc questioned because he knew that Mario would agree to everything if that meant that he got to talk to his son.

“Is Mario Delossantos really coming to town?” Keith said, and Marc could tell that the man was shocked. “Yes, he wants to see Bailey, his son.” “We need to keep him away from Mario because the man is freaking dangerous,” Keith nearly growled. “I want to talk to him because he’s the only one who has the answers to my questions. There’s so much that I need to know,” Bailey said.

Keith shook his head; disbelieve was written all over his face. “Are you serious?” he said, addressing Marc. Marc frowned, and it was Bailey who answered. “It’s my decision, so, you can talk to me, instead of Marc.” “I’m sorry, Bailey, you’re right; that was stupid of me,” Keith itted. “It sure was,” Bailey said. “Are we good?” Keith softly said he knew that he had treated Bailey like a kid, and he shouldn’t have done that. “Of course,” Bailey smiled. “And don’t tread me like a kid again, okay?” Bailey softly added. “Promise,” Keith replied.

Bailey told Marc he didn’t have a preference, so Marc could make arrangements as he saw fit. Marc had disappeared while making the call, and a moment later, he was back. “I invited Mario to have breakfast with us tomorrow morning,” Marc said.

Bailey felt, well, he didn’t quite know how he felt. He was excited and scared at the same time. “That was a clever call,” Keith said. “Yep,” Marc replied. “Why was it a clever call?” Bailey didn’t understand. “Isn’t it dangerous to invite the man over?” Bailey added.

“No, Keith is right, it’s the best option because here we are on our territory, and that gives us the advantage should Mario change his mind and try to hurt you. We have Keith, Lucas, and Byron as backup,” Marc explained as best as he could. He eyed Bailey, and Marc saw that the man wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Do you trust me?” Marc gently questioned. Bailey nodded. “Yes, you know that I do,” he replied. “Then you know that you are safe because I will keep you safe,” Marc said. Bailey smiled, and it was the most beautiful smile Marc had seen in a long time.

Bailey spent a lot of time in the orchard that day while Byron was behind his computer, and Marc, Lucas, and Keith discussed how to update the mansion’s security. Marc didn’t wholly trust Mario, but he hadn’t told Bailey that. It was one of the reason’s that he wanted more security in and around the mansion.

Marc had told Mario that he was welcome but that his bodyguards would have to stay outside. Mario had agreed immediately, which had surprised Marc because, like a mafia boss, the man was in constant danger.

Since Byron was home, he had offered to cook dinner, which, of course, no one had a problem with because the man was a damn good cook. Marc was very proud of his younger brother. He also was glad that he had followed his gut feeling and had taken Byron away from the family compound.

Marc had been pleasantly surprised that Byron was so independent. The man could speak for himself, and he didn’t have a problem with Marc’s, well, work. Furthermore, Byron was a whiz with computers, and he wanted to use his skills to help Marc wherever he could. Plus, he had a job that he loved, being a cook, and a damn good one at that.

Marc had gained more respect for his youngest sibling with each ing day. Byron had insisted that he paid for his own stuff and shared the cost for food and so on.

Their father, Marcus Blake Senior, had even disinherited Byron because his son had refused to return to the family compound. Byron had laughed and declined the invitation, telling Marc that he didn’t care for the money. Byron had tasted his freedom, and he wasn’t planning on giving that up, ever!

Marc was undressing and about the brush his teeth before going to bed when there was a soft knock on the door. He frowned, opened the door, and did a double-take when he saw Bailey standing in front of him, and he was only wearing pajama bottoms. “Hey, Marc,” Bailey softly said. Even though his voice was soft, he looked Marc straight into his beautiful eyes.

Marc’s mouth went dry, and he had to swallow a couple of times to moisten his throat. God, this man was beautiful, and not only on the outside, but he was perfect in every way that counted. “Hey, Bailey. Is something wrong?” Marc gently questioned. He knew that Bailey was safe while at the mansion.

“I can’t sleep.” “Do you want to come in?” “Yes, thank you,” Bailey said in his soft voice. Marc stepped aside to let Bailey . He felt his cock stir, and who

could blame him? It was night, and there stood a gorgeous man in the middle of his bedroom. What happened next threw Marc off-kilter. Bailey stood in front of him, gazing deep into Marc’s chocolate brown eyes, and said, “Make love to me; I want you so badly.”

Marc wanted to ask if Bailey was sure if that was what he wanted, but he stopped himself and swallowed his words. Instead, he pulled Bailey close, cupped his chin, lifted his face, and kissed him. The kiss was gentle, careful even; no tongues were involved yet.

Bailey broke the kiss, took Marc’s head in both of his hands, looked him deep in his eyes, and whispered, “I’m in love with you, Marc Blake.” Of everything that Marc had expected, this was not it. Had he heard it correctly? Had Bailey really told him that he was in love with him? Well, one way to find out. “I feel the same way. I only didn’t know how to tell you,” Marc whispered.

Goosebumps broke out over Bailey’s body at feeling Marc’s hot breath on his sensitive skin.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Bailey wasn’t sure, but had he just noticed hesitation and uncertainty in Marc’s eyes? He knew that Marc wanted him, and he wanted Marc so badly. To Bailey’s relief, Marc took the initiative. The man kissed him again, and this time, his tongue demanded entrance. Bailey opened willingly and softly moaned when Marc’s tongue slid inside.

Bailey protested when Marc gently pulled back. “Easy, baby. We have all night, and I want to enjoy every moment of our first time,” he said as he gently stopped Bailey from ripping the clothes off his body. It took every ounce of willpower that Marc had, as not to jump the man’s bones, but Marc wanted their first time to be special. It was something that he had never considered before, not even with Alec.

Marc always had thought that Alec had been the love of his life, but since he came to know and to love Bailey, Marc knew what real love was. Lifestyle had always been important to Alec and the sex. With Bailey, it was different; the man really cared about Marc’s feelings, something that Alec had never done, now that Marc thought about it.

Marc began to unbutton Bailey’s shirt, and Bailey followed suit. They were undressing each other in unison. Marc’s relaxed attitude made Bailey relax more and more. The shirts were thrown into the corner, and both men began to unzip each other’s pants. Bailey’s erection was so hard that he thought it might burst out of his jeans.

“Hmm, I love that I make you feel this way,” said Marc when he gently slid his hand inside Bailey’s now half-open jeans and cupped his balls. Bailey moaned and started to move his hips back and forth, willing Marc to grab his swollen cock.

“Patience, my love, patience,” Marc whispered as he gently squeezed Bailey’s hard shaft before he pulled his hand back. Then, he slowly pulled Bailey’s jeans and underwear down in one swift motion. Marc licked his lips at seeing Bailey’s magnificent cock proudly pointing at him. “So beautiful,” Marc whispered, right before he leaned toward the eagerly waiting erection and closed his lips around the leaking shaft.

“Oh God, yes,” Bailey moaned as he closed his eyes and grabbed Marc’s thick hair to steady himself. Bailey’s knees were buckling, and if Marc hadn’t grabbed his hips, Bailey would have fallen to the floor. Marc reluctantly let go of Bailey’s erection and gently pushed him on the bed.

Bailey spread his legs, and then he reached for Marc. “Suck me again, please,” Bailey begged, and he didn’t care. “Your wish is my command,’ Marc chuckled as he leaned in closed his lips around Bailey’s cock once again. “Feels so good,” Bailey panted as he started to move his hips, pushing his cock deeper into Marc’s mouth.

Marc sucked harder; then, he let his tongue swirl around the swollen flesh while he started massaging Bailey’s balls, making him moan even louder. Marc paused with what he was doing and eyed Bailey. “I want to be inside you, will you let me?” he panted. “I thought you’d never ask,” a huskily sounding Bailey replied.

Marc didn’t need a second invitation; he grabbed the lubricant, put a generous amount on his fingers, and very slowly pushed one finger inside Bailey’s eager body. Marc was careful because he knew that it had been a long time for Bailey. The last thing that he wanted was to hurt the man he loved more than life.

As expected, Bailey stiffened as Marc was about to insert one finger deeper inside his body. Marc paused to give Bailey the chance to breathe because he

noticed that Bailey was holding his breath. Marc was surprised because this wasn’t a normal reaction, tension, yes, holding your breath, no, that wasn’t normal. It made Marc think that there was a reason for this behavior, and he would find out who had hurt Bailey.

Marc was a hard-ass all the way; he had to be because otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to carry out his assignments. Marc had always treated his lovers, even the one-night-stands, with respect. Someone in Bailey’s past had hurt him enough to tens up when it concerned penetration.

“Relax, baby. I won’t hurt you,” Marc whispered as he gently massaged Bailey’s entrance while he stroked Bailey’s cock to his glorious erection again. Marc tried not to let his anger get to him, not now he was about to make love to Bailey. Marc now was fully convinced that somewhere in his past, someone had hurt Bailey because even the man’s erection had wilted; this wasn’t normal tension.

It took some time before Bailey finally relaxed, and his breathing changed back to normal again. “I’m going to enter one finger into your gorgeous body again; if you want me to stop for whatever reason, you just say so, okay?” Marc said, looking intently at Bailey.

Bailey nodded. “Promise me,” Marc whispered. Bailey swallowed hard before he finally said, “I promise.” “Good, baby,” Marc said with satisfaction in his voice as he put another generous amount of lubricant on his fingers.

Slowly, very slowly, Marc slid one finger inside Bailey’s body. The tension was there, but not as bad as before, which pleased Marc to no end. “Alright?” “Yes, it feels good,” Bailey’s reply was whispered as he slowly began to move his hips in anticipation of Marc’s finger, which continued to slide in and out of his body slowly.

Marc took his time before he carefully entered a second finger. “Still alright, baby?” he inquired. “Yes, more than alright,” Bailey panted and moaned and bucked his hips when Marc touched his sweet spot. “Christ, what was that?” Bailey gasped. Marc frowned because this was something that he had never encountered. Bailey was twenty-nine and had to know what touching the prostate meant because it was the pleasure dome of every gay man.

“I touched your prostate. Did you like it?” Marc questioned; he decided not to ask Bailey about that right now because he had more important things to do, like making his man wild with need and want.

“Touch it again, please?” Bailey panted. That was something that Marc could do, and he did, and this time he gave the spongy gland even more attention. Bailey nearly fell off the bed because he writhed, and his movements were uncontrolled, just like Marc wanted. Now, Bailey was ready for the third finger, and soon the man would be begging for Marc’s cock.

Marc was right; within minutes after he had slid a third finger inside, Bailey began to beg; he needed to feel Marc’s hard cock inside him. He wanted to ask if Bailey was sure, but he swallowed the words just in time, as not to ruin this intimate moment between them.

Marc slowly redrew his fingers and positioned his rock-hard shaft in front of Bailey’s fluttering hole. Marc lubed and then grabbed his erection and gently nudged it a few times against Bailey’s eager ass. Then he slowly pushed inside; he felt Bailey tense, but just for a short moment, and then he felt him slowly relax.

Marc took his time before he was buried to the hilt in Bailey’s gorgeous body. Marc began to thrust a bit more forceful when he felt Bailey anticipating. “You like that, don’t you?” Marc panted; he wanted to hear Bailey telling him that the man was enjoying himself. “Yes, God, yes. Let me feel you; push in harder, please,” Bailey begged. Marc didn’t hesitate but immediately began to thrust in more forcefully.

“Yes, that’s it, that it,” Bailey kept chanting, and Marc kept thrusting, using more force every time that he pushed into Bailey’s ass. “With you, it feels so good. YES,” Bailey almost shouted when Marc touched his sweet spot over and over. Sweat began to drip from Marc’s forehead and, Bailey had trouble holding Marc’s powerful body because the sweat had made him slippery.

Marc leaned in until they were nose to nose. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” Marc urged and kissed Bailey on his lips, hard, and he noticed to his surprise that Bailey didn’t hesitate but wrapped his arms around his neck. Marc pushed upright until he sat on his heels, pulling Bailey with him.

Marc saw from Bailey’s facial expression that the man was surprised and probably did not know what was coming. Could it be that a man who was twenty-nine was so inexperienced when it came to sex? Well, everything indicated that this was the case. Marc could hardly believe it, but it seemed that Bailey really didn’t have much experience when it came to sex.

“Position your leg alongside my thighs,” Marc gently commanded. Bailey again didn’t hesitate as he straddled his legs left and right. Marc held Bailey’s waist and gently urged him to go up and down, up and down. It took a while before Bailey had the perfect rhythm, but then both men moved in unison. “You do that really well, baby,” Marc praised, he was panting hard now because he was so close, but he didn’t want to come, not yet. Marc wanted to enjoy Bailey for as long as possible.

When Bailey began to lose his rhythm, Marc pushed Bailey on his back, and then he flipped them to have Bailey underneath him. “Do you trust me?” Marc croaked. Bailey frowned, but then he nodded. “I trust you, Marc,” he whispered. “Just let me know if you don’t like what I’m doing, okay? I just need.” “Do it,” Bailey urged, and Marc did.

Marc grabbed Bailey’s hips and began to push into Bailey’s body, his thrusts were more forceful now, and Bailey was nearly going insane with ecstasy. “Wow, this feels so good,” Bailey panted as he grabbed Marc’s hair and pulled him down roughly for a heated kiss. Their lips found each other, and Bailey was nibbling, biting, and sucking Marc’s delicious full lips and tongue.

“So eager,” Marc remarked. “I want you so much. I love you, Marc. I love you,” panted Bailey, while Marc pushed in even deeper. Bailey, it seemed, was in ecstasy, and that was precisely how Marc wanted it to be. They were kissing, and Marc couldn’t help himself as he started pounding into Bailey using a lot of force. “Yes, oh yes. I’m coming; I can’t hold off any longer,” Bailey suddenly cried out, and the next second creamy, hot seed flowed between their bodies.

Bailey was curiously eyeing his ejaculation as the seed flow slowly got less and less. The sight was so erotic that Marc didn’t have a choice; he, too, was unable to hold on much longer. “Baby, I’m coming; I’m going to fill you with my juice. You’re mine, now you’re really truly mine,” Marc growled as Bailey felt the hot sperm fill his ass.

They lay for a while, on their back’s, side by side, panting, both catching their breaths. Suddenly Bailey turned his head. Marc did the same, and their eyes locked. Bailey smiled. “That was, well, amazing,” he finally said.

“I didn’t hurt you, or anything, because you would have told me, right?” Marc had to be sure that Bailey had enjoyed himself just as much as he had. “It was heaven; it felt special,” Bailey smiled.

Chapter Twenty Nine

“Is everything alright, baby?” Marc asked when he saw Bailey stare out the window. The man hadn’t said much during breakfast, and Marc was worried that Bailey regretted their lovemaking the previous night. Bailey looked up, and Marc saw the uncertainty in the man’s beautiful big green eyes. “I’m just nervous about meeting Mario Delossantos for the first time. I mean, not really the first time.”

“I know what you mean, baby, and know that no harm will come to you. You’re safe as long as I’m with you. Only Mario gets into our home; his bodyguards will stay outside where Lucas will keep an eye on them,” Marc assured. And by that, Bailey knew that Lucas had pointed a riffle on the two bodyguards. If they would so much as dance out of tune, Lucas would pull the trigger.

The doorbell chimed, and Marc went to open the front door. Mario greeted Marc with a smile, and Marc noticed that it was a genuine one. Marc blocked the entrance, preventing Mario from entering. Mario frowned, then he said, “Just talk to me, assassin.” Marc was surprised, but he managed to keep his expression neutral. “You’re good; I must give you that. And now you’re thinking, how much does he know? Well, Marcus Blake, let’s say that I know a lot, but not everything,” Mario informed him.

Marc knew that Mario held back on him, and he didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could do about that for now. “Shall we? I want to see my son,” Mario said, and he sounded friendly enough. Marc nodded and led the way into the living room, where Bailey was waiting.

Mario froze when he saw Bailey standing in the living room. The men stared at each other; it was Mario who broke the silence. “Hello, Bailey. How are you?” Mario spoke in a soft, gentle tone. “I’m not sure how I should feel. Are you here to kill me?” Bailey’s voice was firm and steady, much to Marc’s joy.

“No, Bailey, I’m not here to kill you. You are my flesh and blood. I came here to meet you, talk to you, get to know you,” Mario said, looking expectantly at his son. Marc was curious about how Bailey would react when meeting Mario Delossantos, his father.

Mario raised one perfect eyebrow. “I guess that you have questions for me,” he said. Bailey nodded because the man was right; he had questions for him, many questions. “I’m curious as to why you want to meet me. Why now? Why not three years ago?” “Would you have believed me, three years ago, after you handed me over to the police?” Mario replied. Marc eyed Mario sharply, and he noticed that the man didn’t look nor sounded angry.

Bailey considered his father, then he said, “No, probably not.” “You must know by now why your mother left me and why she only got to take you and Brendan with her,” Mario’s expression softened. It was evident that he still mourned Emily.

Bailey frowned. “And why is that?” he questioned. Bailey knew because he had read his mother’s diary, but Mario didn’t need to know that. “I assume that, by now, you at least read a part of your mother’s diary,” Mario said matter-of-factly.

Bailey’s eyes grew wide. “How do you know about my mother’s diary?” “Because I was the one who sent it to you,” Mario said in a calm voice. “You did?” “Sit down, baby,” Marc gently pushed Bailey in the love seat and sat down beside him. “Concentrate on your breathing,” Marc gently urged when he noticed that Bailey’s breathing was too fast. He didn’t want him to hyperventilate.

Mario didn’t say anything; instead, he was watching Marc’s interaction with Bailey. Mario couldn’t hear what Marc was saying to Bailey, but whatever it was, it worked because Bailey’s breathing slowed to normal again. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to upset you, my son. I assumed that you knew that it was me who had sent you the diary,” Mario sounded apologetic.

Bailey glared at Mario, had the man called him, son, just now? He didn’t like that because, to Bailey, Mario was a stranger. Byron came into the living room carrying a tray with hot beverages and cinnamon rolls. He introduced himself to Mario, handed Bailey his tea, and then he sat down.

“I brought your men outside coffee and rolls, too,” Byron informed the mafia boss. Mario looked surprised and thanked Byron for his thoughtfulness. Then, Mario focussed on Bailey again. “I loved your mother very much. I could have forced her to stay, but I didn’t. However, I did force her to leave Robert and Fabian behind, and believe me when I tell you that I regret that decision to this day,” Mario said in a soft voice.

“Yeah, well, it’s too late for that now, isn’t it?” Bailey said, and he sounded bitter. Mario pressed his lips together; it is evident that he hadn’t expected this reaction from Bailey. To be honest, Marc hadn’t either. Bailey was a reasonable man, always listened before he came to a conclusion. Now it seemed that he wasn’t planning on making this easy on Mario, and Marc couldn’t blame him.

Mario sighed deeply. “I can only apologize so often and hope for your forgiveness one day. One of the reason’s that I’m here today is that I know that someone is after you, and I came here to offer my protection.” The mob boss looked at Marc; he said, “They killed one of my sons, and I want them dead.”

That statement got Bailey’s attention. “So, it really wasn’t you who killed

Brendan by placing a bomb under my car?” Bailey said. Mario frowned. “Of course not. You are my son; you are a Delossantos, whether you like it or not. No matter what you think of me, I would never go after my children.” Mario sounded upset. “I’m sorry, but l hope that you can see it from my point of view. I handed the cops the footage that should have landed you in jail. I didn’t know that you’re my father. So, it’s only logical that I assumed that you found me and wanted to kill me. By placing a bomb under my car, you hoped that you achieved that goal, but instead, it was Brendan who got killed,” Bailey sobbed.

“I swear that I’m not after you, nor was I after Brendan. You both are my sons, for God’s sake!” Mario did his best not to yell his frustration. “How should I know? I didn’t know you, and I still don’t know you. Yes, I know that your name is Mario Delossantos and that you are the head of the mafia Delossantos family. You killed your brother-in-law and deprived my mother of her two other sons. Hell, one of them was my twin brother. That’s all I know!” Bailey yelled and sobbed.

“You need to calm down, baby. Your father is here to help and to talk to you. Can’t you cut him some slack? Can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt? He is your father, like it or not, baby” Marc spoke in a soothing tone because Bailey was very upset.

It was in the afternoon when Bailey agreed to give his father a chance to explain himself for the things he had done. Bailey had so many unanswered questions. Marc had allowed the two bodyguards in the house as well, and Lucas was present too, as was Keith and, of course, Byron.

Keith had locked Vintage Treasures early because he knew that Mario was visiting Bailey. The former FBI agent wanted to meet the man for himself so that he could form his own opinion. Keith had heard a lot about the mob boss, so he was curious as well as interested in the man. Plus, he wanted to be at the house to protect Bailey if necessary.

“Keith Aldridge. We meet, finally,’ said Mario. Keith frowned. “I don’t understand. Do you know me? Because I certainly don’t know you,” he replied. Mario smiled when he said, “I was the one who hired you to protect my two sons.”

The silence in the room was deafening; one could hear a pin drop to the floor. Keith seemed flabbergasted, Byron looked skeptical, Marc eyed Mario intently, and Bailey opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say, so he closed it again.

“Did I hear that correctly? You are the one who hired me to protect Brendan and Bailey?” Keith sounded breathless like he had run the marathon. “Yes, I did because you were the best candidate for the job,” Mario said. “Well, I couldn’t protect Brendan,” Keith whispered. “That wasn’t your fault,” Bailey softly said.

Keith sighed; he knew that it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have prevented it, but that didn’t change the fact that he still felt guilty. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that you could have prevented it from happening,” said Mario, and to Bailey and Keith’s astonishment, the man stood and lightly squeezed Keith’s shoulder.

“You lost me,” Bailey eyed Mario intently, “You hired Keith to protect Brendan and me? Why?” Mario leaned forward, folded his hands, and rested his elbows on his knees. He was searching for the right words; finally, he said, “There were rumors that someone had put a price on your head. And that someone still seems active, they want you dead at any cost. That’s why I hired Keith because he is one of the best.”

“Did that someone killed Fabian as well?” Bailey questioned. Before Mario could answer, Marc said, “Do you know who ordered the hit on Brendan and Bailey?” Mario shook his head. “No, if I knew, then that person would be six feet under,” The mob boss replied, and this time his tone let Marc know that the man was full of rage. Well, he could understand because someone had killed his son, and Mario wanted his revenge. That raised another question, and Marc knew that he had to talk to Mario about killing Fabian.

Chapter Thirty

“We need to talk,” Marc began; he knew that he didn’t have another option. Plus, the man knew about his activities as an assassin, but did he know that Marc had killed Fabian? It was almost midnight, and Bailey had gone to bed in Marc’s bedroom this time. Byron was in his study to do some more research, and Keith had said goodnight as well. It was just Marc, Lucas, and Mario because the mob boss had sent his two bodyguards back to the hotel. The two had been reluctant but had done as was commanded.

Mario eyed Marc intently; he said, “Then talk.” Marc nodded. “I want to know how you know of my activities? There’s only one person who knows my true identity, and Lucas wouldn’t betray me, ever,” Marc began. Lucas nodded. “That’s right; I would never betray Marc; it’s not who I am.” Marc believed him because he had no reason not to trust him. “I believe and therefore trust you with my life,” Marc replied. Lucas nodded, but Marc saw the anger in the man’s eyes. “Honor among assassins, I like that,” said Mario.

“Together, we will deal with the one who betrayed me,” Marc promised because not only had that person broken the code of honor among the assassins, but they had also implied that Lucas was the culprit.

Mario cleared his throat, and when he had Lucas and Marc’s attention, he said, “I can’t tell you, and not because I don’t want to, but I don’t know who it was that betrayed you. Two weeks ago, I received a large package, in it was the diary of my late wife, and information about, well, your activities.” Mario paused and eyed Marc intently.

“Think, Marc, think hard. Do you really haven’t any idea of who has sent me this crucial information about you?” Mario urged. An irritated Marc shook his head. “Honest to God, I have no idea.” Marc, Mario, and Lucas all turned to the living door when they heard someone gasping.

“Bailey, please, come back!” Marc called after his lover, but Bailey ran upstairs and into the guestroom he had occupied before moving into Marc’s bedroom just a few hours ago. Well, Mario had to wait because Bailey was much more important. Marc went after Bailey, and he hoped and prayed that the man wouldn’t leave the mansion. If Bailey wanted to go, then Marc wasn’t stopping him. He didn’t do kidnapping.

Bailey sat on the edge of the bed and was confused about what he had overheard. Was Marc really an assassin? Had he heard that correctly? And Lucas was a hitman too? So, many questions ran through Bailey’s head, and it made him dizzy.

“Bailey? Open the door, please?” Marc urged, but there was no reply. Marc tried for several minutes, but Bailey didn’t respond. Then a thought hit Marc, was Bailey still in his room? Marc hoped that Bailey hadn’t escaped through the window. The guestroom that Bailey had occupied had a balcony, so it should be easy for the man to escape.

“Bailey? If you are there, then open the door, I need to know if you’re still here,” Marc said, and he tried to keep the frustration out of his tone. Still, no answer. For a moment, Marc debated what to do. He didn’t exactly know how much Bailey had heard, but guessing by the man’s behavior, Marc would say that Bailey heard almost everything.

“I’m opening the door now, Bailey,” Marc said and tried to put the key into the lock. When the key didn’t go in all the way, Marc knew that Bailey not only had locked the door, but he had left the key in the lock as well. Marc had to it that the man was clever, and although he liked that very much, no so at this moment.

“Bailey? I’m worried now. Open the door, please,” Marc said. The assassin waited for a moment, and just when he wanted to kick in the door, he heard movement. He heard the door being unlocked, and then Bailey’s pale face appeared. “Baby, please, let me explain.

“What’s there to explain? You are a hired killer, which means that you are murdering people for money; there’s nothing to explain about that,” Bailey said in a voice that was full of emotions. Marc heard the anger, the sorrow, and the pain in them. He shook his head and said, “There’s a lot to explain because, on the contrary of what you might think, I’m not a cold-blooded killer who murders people for money.”

Bailey had only slightly opened the door, and Marc could have forced his way in if he had wanted to, but he didn’t. Bailey had to let Marc voluntarily into his room. Marc knew that all too well. Bailey had been through so much in such a short amount of time; the man was fragile, even if he didn’t want to it it. Marc knew that he had to tread carefully. Plus, their relationship was so fresh, and Marc didn’t know Bailey that well. And there was no way that he could predict how the man would react if he told him the truth about how he had earned his living.

Marc patiently waited until Bailey had decided if he wanted to give Marc the chance to explain himself. It seemed like forever when finally, Bailey opened the door and let Marc in. In front of the window stood a table and two chairs, Marc sat in one, and Bailey took the other. Bailey stared a Marc for a full minute, then he said in a soft yet firm tone, “Start explaining why you kill people for money.”

Marc sighed, this would get much harder than he had anticipated, but he didn’t want to lose Bailey because the man already had become very important to him. Marc opened his mouth, and then he closed it again. Bailey observed the man

that he loved so much. Had he been so wrong? Had he fallen in love with a mass murderer? Did he owe it to the man to give him the chance to explain his actions? He hoped, against his better judgment, that he had heard it all wrong.

“If you want me to stay here, then you need to put the cards on the table. I need to know the truth. I need to know everything, no holding back, and no secrets. Please, tell me that you aren’t a cold-blooded killer,” said Bailey, and he sounded almost pleading.

Marc knew that if he didn’t want to lose Bailey, he would have to come clean about everything. “Yes, it’s true, I am or was an assassin. And you might not believe me, but when I tell you that I’m not a cold-blooded killer, then that’s the truth, too.” Marc paused, and he said, “You can ask me anything, and I will answer as best as I can.” “Promise?” Bailey said. Marc nodded and promised Bailey that he would tell the truth, no secrets.

“Okay, you’re an assassin. Why?” Bailey started his first question. Marc frowned because of all the questions that he expected this one hadn’t occurred to him. It was a good question, though. And one he himself had to think about. Indeed, indeed, why had he become an assassin?

“I was about eighteen or nineteen; I don’t precisely recall when one of my best friends was beaten to death for no good reason. The whole neighborhood knew who had done it, but no one dared to testify. Then, I decided to testify against Graig because I wanted him behind bars or better on the chair for what he had done. However, it never goes the way we want or expect, and this wasn’t any different. Graig was released due to a technicality.

The following week, he raped a sixteen-year-old girl. Because, to use his words, she wanted it. Again he avoided going to trial, this time because his family

interfered.” Marc paused and swallowed hard. Apparently, the thought of Graig avoiding prison twice still enraged him.

“Go on,” Bailey urged, and Marc noticed that his tone was neutral. Was that good or bad? Well, he didn’t have a choice in the matter anymore. He had to come clean and be honest. Bailey had demanded the truth, and that was what he would get.

“Then someone sent me a phone, and the day after I received it, I got a call. You just have to believe me when I tell you that I don’t know my client. Anyway, he, or she, offered me a lot of money if I would kill Graig. Since he was a bastard, I didn’t have a problem with that.” Marc paused again.

Bailey didn’t say anything, but his thoughts were all over the place. He, too, thought that this Graig person had deserved to die. “Did you kill him instantly, or did you torture him,” Bailey asked. Marc eyed Bailey for a second, then he replied without hesitation, “I killed him with one shot to the head. He died instantly.” “Good,” Bailey softly said. Not that he suddenly condoned the killing, but at least Marc hadn’t tortured the guy.

“As you can guess, I didn’t need the money, and that’s not why I decided to become an assassin. I only took assignments to kill those who deserved to die. When the law let the victims down, I stepped in. I took the payments because no one works for free, not even a rich guy like myself.” Marc said as he stared out of the window.

“So, that’s how you became an assassin?” “Yes.” “Do you know who is after me?” Bailey asked; he already suspected that Marc didn’t know, but he had to ask him anyway. “No, unfortunately, I don’t. If so, then that person or persons would be dead already,” Marc answered honestly. “Okay, so you just kill those

who, in your eyes, deserved to die?” Bailey questioned. Marc nodded. “Did you murder Brendan?” Bailey asked in a voice so low that it was a near whisper.

Marc frowned because he hadn’t expected that Bailey would suspect him of killing Brendan. “No, I did not. The way I see it, Brendan was a good guy, and I would never have accepted such an assignment,” Marc answered, and to Bailey, the man sounded sincere. So, he decided to trust Marc regarding Brendan’s death.

Bailey swallowed hard, cleared his throat, and then he softly asked, “Was Alec killed because of you?” The question was so unexpected that Marc was thrown off-kilter by it. After a few seconds, he said, “I honestly don’t know because I never found the guilty ones. So, I couldn’t ask them.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked about Alec,” Bailey said as he put his hands on Marc’s, surprising the assassin with this gesture. Marc then told Bailey everything about how he had found Alec and how he had tried to find the scum who murdered Alec.

Bailey had even gone paler, and tears filled his eyes. “I’m so sorry; I should have kept my mouth shut,” he apologized again. “It was a long time ago. I won’t lie, because when I ever find out who killed Alec, then I will kill them,” Marc said as he slowly rose from his chair and moved toward Bailey.

Marc carefully placed his arm around Bailey’s shoulder; then, he pulled him out of his chair and into his arms. To Marc’s delight, Bailey didn’t protest, and it felt so good to hold the man he loved so much. “I want to know everything there is to know about you,” Bailey mumbled into Marc’s warm muscled chest. “And you will, I promise,” Marc vowed to stay honest and tell Bailey everything that he wanted to know.

Bailey asked about Byron and if he, too, was an assassin. He had been shocked when Marc had told him about the hit on Keith. That Marc didn’t understand why his client had given him the assignment to end Keith’s life. He then told Bailey that after he had refused, they had tried to hire Lucas for the job, and the man, of course, had refused, as well. Then, another assassin was hired, and this one had accepted the job.

“We need to warn Keith because he is in danger,” Bailey was shaking, fear clear in his voice. Marc sighed because now it was about Keith and how the man had kept this from Bailey. “I informed Keith, and that’s why Lucas is here. He told me that after my refusal, another hitman was hired, and he came to warn me about this one. His name was Bobby, and Lucas and I both knew that Bobby killed for pleasure, no matter if the target is an innocent or a scumbag,”

“You just said, knew, as in past tense,” said Bailey. “That’s correct, baby. We made a plan to lure Bobby out of town, and then Lucas put a bullet in his head. Bobby liked to let his targets suffer; he’s a psychopath. So, that Lucas killed him with one shot is more than he gave his victims,” Marc paused, eyeing Bailey intently.

“Thank you,” Bailey softly said, surprising the hell out of Marc because he hadn’t seen that one coming. “For what, baby?” “For saving Keith’s life. He’s a good man, even though he wasn’t honest with me either,” Bailey softly replied. “None of us were because.” “I know, and I do understand,” Bailey interrupted, surprising Marc once again.

Chapter Thirty One

“Do you need more coffee, baby?” Marc asked a yawning Bailey. “I could use one more, thanks,” Bailey replied. They had talked for hours the previous night, and even though Bailey had slept until ten o’clock that morning, he felt tired.

Mario was reading the newspaper he had ordered his bodyguards to buy him several different ones. He always read more than one newspaper. Suddenly the man looked up and straight into Bailey’s eyes. “I want to see your shop, or what’s left of it,” Mario said all of a sudden. Bailey looked thoughtful as if he needed to consider the request. “Alright, but I need to finish my coffee,” he replied. Mario nodded, and then the man’s focus was on the newspaper again he was reading The New York Times.

Bailey was in Marc’s bedroom, which was now theirs, when Marc entered. “Do you need me to go with you?” he offered. “No, I believe Mario when he said that he isn’t here to kill me,” Bailey replied while he finished dressing. He had chosen black jeans with a green turtleneck that made his eyes even look greener.

“You are so beautiful, baby, and you’re mine, all mine,” Marc almost growled as he wrapped his arms around Bailey’s shoulders and pressed Bailey’s back to his firm chest. They stood in front of the full-length mirror, eyeing themselves. “We make a good pair,” said Bailey softly. “That we do, baby. That we do,” Marc replied, and he meant every word.

That they had talked about Alec the previous night hadn’t hurt his heart, but it had angered him that those who had killed Alec still were breathing. “I need to go, my fa. Mario is waiting,” Bailey corrected himself. “Plus, I’m curious why he wants to see the ruins from what once was my flower shop,” Bailey added.

Mario, his two bodyguards, and Bailey stood in front of what once was the

Flower Hut. Rage filled Bailey, which surprised him because he had never felt so furious before. Yes, well, when Brendan was killed, he had felt a rage that had been unknown to him. Now he felt that same rage, and Bailey didn’t like it. He didn’t want to feel the rage and anger when he thought of Brendan or assassins, the Flower Hut, or even his father. It just wasn’t who he was.

“Well, whoever did this, did a damn fine job,” Mario growled; he turned to face Bailey and said. “Do you have insurance so that you can rebuild the shop?” Bailey frowned. “Yes, everything is covered. Next week the construction workers start rebuilding the shop and my apartment,” Bailey replied.

A loud bang sounded, and then one of Mario’s bodyguards went down. “Shit! Get down,” Mario yelled, and he didn’t wait for Bailey to respond, but he dived to the ground, pulling Bailey with him. Bailey landed hard on the pavement, Mario on top of him. “What the hell was that?” he cried out.

“Someone just shot at us, the bastards,” Mario growled; he cursed when he saw one of his bodyguards lying motionless on the ground. The other bodyguard was already on the hunt. It was what Mario had discussed with his two bodyguards if something like this would happen, and one of them went down, the other would immediately take action.

The bodyguard, however, had looked at Mario before he took off. The mob boss was alright and so was his son, so when Mario nodded, the bodyguard had started the hunt.

Bailey dialed the emergency number and told them what had happened because the bodyguard, Brad, needed help, and soon. Bailey was surprised that Mario hadn’t fled the scene. Instead, the man had checked Bailey for injuries and had asked him several times if he really wasn’t hurt. Mario had behaved like a father,

so much for the scary mob boss.

“Are you alright? What the hell happened. Mario said that someone shot at you?” Marc was livid. How could this happen? Who was after Bailey and had the nerve to try and kill him even though Mario Delossantos was with him? “I’m fine, thanks to Mario. He threw me to the ground because he reacted way faster than me,” a shaken Bailey answered.

Marc hugged Bailey tightly and was glad that the man still was alive. “Thank you, Mario,” Marc said while he kept Bailey tight to his body. “Well, I reacted on instinct, but I’m glad that I could keep my son safe,” a grim-looking mob boss replied.

Bailey gently pushed Marc away, and then he excused himself. He was shaken and confused about his feelings for not only Marc but for Mario as well. He went to the guest room instead of the bedroom Marc now shared with him. Bailey needed to gather his thoughts and get thoughts in perspective.

He had fallen in love with an assassin, which was so not good. Then there was mob boss Mario Delossantos, his father. Bailey had to it that he started to like the man, even though he was a ruthless mob boss. Yes, it all had become very confusing, and he needed some alone time, only he knew that at this moment, that wasn’t possible.

Someone was after him, for God only knows what reason, and now was not the time to seek solace. Bailey racked his brain about whom it could be that hated him so much that this person wanted him dead, six feet under. His thoughts wandered off to Brendan and that his brother hadn’t stood a chance against the one who was after them.

Keith had been devastated after Brendan was murdered. Bailey knew that Keith had broken the very rule that a bodyguard never should break. The man had become friends with the brothers, and Keith had become part of Brendan and Bailey’s lives. It was why Bailey knew that Keith’s feelings were genuine. That the man had mourned Brendan, that was real. Bailey also knew that he could count on Keith to have his back and protect him at all times.

“We need to find the ones responsible for this mess because Bailey will be in danger as long as those idiots are roaming the streets,” Mario informed Marc. “I agree. Byron is already hacking every camera in the neighborhood,” Marc replied. Byron knew where to look because the bodyguard that wasn’t hit had been able to pinpoint the direction from where the rifle was fired. Now they hoped to see images they could use, such as identifying the two scumbags who had tried to kidnap Bailey. Because Marc was certain that it was the same two men, and it was about time that they caught them.

Brad, the bodyguard who was shot, had survived but barely. He would be in the hospital for several more weeks. Mario saw to it that the man got the best care possible. It was something that Bailey could appreciate. It seemed that Mario had his people’s back, as long if they had his. This particular bodyguard was with Mario for more than eight years, and Mario trusted Brad completely.

Marc hoped that Dan, the other bodyguard, would find clues, but he doubted that. Then again, these weren’t exactly professionals, so maybe, just maybe, Dan would find something they could work with. Marc had many questions for the two thugs, and after he got his answers, he would kill them. However, he had to catch them first.

“Marc?” By the way that Byron said his name, Marc knew that his brother had found something. Marc went into Byron’s study, he was followed by Mario.

“Dan had beneficial information. Here, look at this,” Byron turned and eyed the two men who stood behind him while he showed the footage of the traffic camera. “What an amateur,” Byron mumbled.

The footage showed a man who was running, carrying a large bag. It had to be the shooter; Byron was sure of it because the timeframe was just about right. Marc stared at the monitor, but he didn’t recognize the man. However, Mario, who stood beside Marc, growled. “Well, hell. I know that one,” he said, and he couldn’t have surprised Marc more if his hair had turned purple.

“You do?” “I do; this is Arnulfo Porter,” Mario said, and he sounded angry and something else. Was that pain in the man’s voice? “Who is Arnulfo Porter,” Byron questioned. It took some time before Mario spoke. Yes, the man looked pained, and there was sorrow in his eyes. What the hell was going on?

“Arnulfo Porter is Robert’s right hand,” Mario whispered. “He’s a psychopath and one of the worst I’ve ever met,” Mario added. Everyone was silent after this revelation. Marc was stunned; he knew that Robert was Mario’s eldest son, but he didn’t know much about the man.

“Byron?” “Yes?” “Do you still have that footage from the two other ones?” “Sure do,” Byron said as he rapidly started typing on the keyboard. A few minutes later, they looked at the footage of the two men who had kidnapped Bailey. The monitor showed how Bailey was forced into the trunk of a car by two men.

Marc eyed Mario in question. “I don’t know these two,” the mob boss softly said. Marc believed him because Mario had no reason the lie about that. “Could it be possible that those two are hired by Robert or by Arnulfo?” Marc asked. “I honestly don’t know,” Mario answered truthfully.

Marc could tell that the mob boss was livid. If Robert had ordered the hit on Bailey, and Arnulfo had taken the shot while Mario stood next to Bailey was unforgivable. If so, Robert had betrayed not only his father but the head of the family as well.

Mario eyed Marc for a moment, then he said, “If Robert is behind this, then I will deal with him. It will be me and no one else.” Marc nodded because it was only fair to give the mob boss a chance to punish his son. Still, if Robert Delossantos was behind the actions that killed Brendan, then Mario better kill his son and this Arnulfo person too because if not, Marc would do it for him.

Chapter Thirty Two

Marc was worried because Bailey had been too quiet during breakfast. “Are you alright, baby?” Marc asked as he sat down on the grass next to Bailey. Marc knew that he would find Bailey in the orchard, underneath the peer tree. It had become Bailey’s favorite spot; it was here that he was able to think and put things in perspective. To calm down and find some peace and quiet.

Bailey looked sideways, their eyes locked; he said, “No, I’m not alright. So much has changed, and I’m still confused. I would like to be alone right now if you don’t mind.” Marc, of course, did mind, but he didn’t say that to Bailey. The assassin didn’t have another choice than to leave, which he did.

“Where is my son?” Mario asked when Marc entered the house. Marc looked over his shoulder in the direction of the garden. He’s at the orchard; it’s his favorite place where he finds peace and quiet and gathers his thoughts.

Mario was on his way to the sliding doors which led to the back deck and into the garden when Marc stopped him. “Don’t go after Bailey. Give him the time that he needs. He’ll come around, but it will be on his , not your or mine,” Marc softly said. For a moment, it seemed that Mario would go to the orchard anyway, but then, much to Marc’s relief, Mario relented.

“What’s the chance that it really is Robert who is after Bailey and that the car bomb was placed at his orders?” Marc asked. As expected, the mob boss didn’t give Marc a straight answer. “I need to find out first if Robert is indeed involved. There’s still a possibility that Arnulfo is working for someone else as well,” Mario replied while staring outside.

Marc understood because Mario had raised Robert to one day become the head of the family. The heir to the throne, so to speak. Now, it seemed that dear Robert had broken the family rules by going after his brother for no particular reason. Marc knew that if that were true, Mario was caught between a rock and a hard place. That meant that the mob boss had no other choice than to choose between his children.

Marc would stay on his guard because should Mario choose Robert, then Bailey’s life would be forfeit. Not only Robert but Mario and the whole Delossantos Family would come for Bailey. What a mess, Marc thought. Then again, maybe Robert was innocent because this Arnulfo guy could actually be acting on his own, or he could be on someone else’s payroll as well; who knew?

Mario had been honest about recognizing the man on the footage as Arnulfo, who was on Robert’s payroll. Marc had a feeling that Bailey was in more danger than he anticipated. Thank God Lucas had decided to extend his stay, so he could assist Marc in defending Bailey.

Marc felt a prickling in his neck, turned, and saw that Mario was watching him intently. “ me on the back deck?” the mob boss asked politely. Marc nodded, he knew what was coming, and he knew that he didn’t have a choice.

“We need to talk,” Mario began, and the man looked very serious. “Alright, then let’s talk. What is it that you want to know?” Marc said, even though he was perfectly aware of what it was that Mario wanted from him. “I know that you took the assignment to kill my youngest son, Fabian,” Mario said, his face imive. “That I did,” Marc answered truthfully. Mario’s following words stunned Marc. “He had it coming. That boy was rotten to the core.” Mario sighed and added, “To tell you the truth, I couldn’t kill him. Whatever monster he was, he was my son. Thank you for being honest.”

Marc nodded. “You have another question for me, right?” Marc said. “I do indeed,” Mario replied. When Marc didn’t say anything, he said, “What are your intentions with my son?” That was an easy one, and Marc could answer with a smile. “I love your son, and I want to see him safe and happy,” Marc softly said.

“Will you respect his needs and wishes?” Mario said, and now he sounded like the dangerous mob boss that he was. “I intend to, yes. If you don’t know him, you would think that Bailey is weak, but I guarantee that he is not. Bailey is very strong-headed, and he knows what he wants. What’s more important, he knows what he doesn’t want,” Marc said, and there was pride in his voice.

Mario smiled. “I see that you speak the truth, and even though you don’t need it, you have my blessing,” Mario assured. Marc thanked him, went inside, and a moment later, he was back carrying a bottle of Chivas Regal Royal Salute 62 Guns and two crystal tumblers.

Mario nodded his approval. “That’s a damn fine whiskey. Forty-year-old Whiskey Advocate earned this one a 94 point rating and called it the work of genius,” Mario informed Marc, who smiled; it was precisely what he wanted to hear from the mob boss. “You have good taste, Marc,” Mario complimented the assassin. “I sure do,” Marc replied, but he meant Bailey, not the whiskey.

They chatted for a while, and Marc started to like the man. Even so, he still didn’t trust him because trust, had to be earned. Mario told about his early days, his late wife and how he had wronged her, and the regret afterward. He even told Marc how he had become one of the most powerful mob bosses of all time. Marc was impressed, but he kept that to himself.

“Look, there’s Bailey,” said a relieved Marc. He didn’t like it when Bailey was on his own in the orchard. Granted, Lucas had kept an eye on him, but still. If it were up to Marc, he would lock Bailey up so that he was sure that the man he loved already so much was safe.

Mario had offered to mobilize his, well, army, but Marc told him not to do that because Madison Valley was a small town, and that wouldn’t go unnoticed. That’s not what they needed right now. Marc wanted to stay under the radar.

It was bad enough that the police had to be involved when the bodyguard was shot. The sheriff had asked a lot of questions, and the man wasn’t a fool. He knew who had come to his territory, and the man was not amused. However, since he didn’t have anything on Mario Delossantos, the sheriff had let him go after questioning him, Bailey, and of course Dan and Brad. The last was stable, and if no complication arose, then Brad would be released the next day.

Marc had been honest about killing Fabian, and Mario had understood, and he had not wanted revenge, for that Marc was grateful. Not that he was afraid of Mario, but he was afraid of the impact it could have on Bailey and his relationship with the man. What would Bailey do if he knew that it was Marc who had killed Fabian, the twin he’d never met? Bailey had been angry and hurt when he was told about Fabian and that the man was murdered.

Marc knew that he had to come clean about him killing Fabian. Maybe it was better to tell the man as soon as possible, get it over with. Mario had been on the phone for the last couple of hours. Marc knew that the mob boss wanted to know if his eldest son was indeed involved in the attacks on Bailey. If so, then how would the man decide? Would he punish and ban or even kill Robert? Would he go after Bailey because one day Robert was to become the head of the family? Mario had said so himself that there was a possibility that Robert was innocent.

“Hey,” said a soft voice from behind him. Marc turned and smiled warmly when he saw Bailey coming through the sliding doors. “How are you?” Marc questioned. Bailey smiled. “Much better than this morning,” he replied. Marc checked his wristwatch and saw that it was already 2:00 PM. “You must be hungry, baby. Let me make you lunch,” Marc offered.

Bailey looked thoughtful, but then he noticed that he was indeed hungry. “I can make myself lunch,” he said. “I know that you can, but I want to cook for you if that’s alright,” Marc insisted. Bailey smiled and told Marc that he loved to have two slices of buttered bread and cheese. “And a glass of milk, please?” Marc nodded, “Coming up,” the assassin said before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Bailey ate with gusto and noticed just how hungry he was. “Do you want more bread slices?” Marc asked. Bailey shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m full,” he replied. Marc’s phone rang, and Bailey had expected that the man would excuse himself to answer, but to his astonishment, he didn’t.

Marc stayed seated at the table as he pushed the green button. “Hey Byron, what’s up?” “Not much good, I’m afraid.” “Alright, talk to me.” “Those two men who managed to get Bailey are in my restaurant, as we speak,” Byron informed his older brother. Marc didn’t need to ask if Byron was sure because if Byron said that these two were the ones who had taken Bailey, then they were.

“I’ll ask Lucas to watch the two. What time are you off?” Marc questioned because he wanted Byron home, just in case. By now, it was known that Byron was connected to Marc, and he didn’t want anything happening to his younger brother.

Byron told Marc that he was off in two hours, and when Marc offered to come and get him, Byron had laughed. “I’m not a helpless kid anymore, ?”

Byron said. Marc didn’t really know because he had left the family compound when Byron was just a toddler.

“At least call before you leave the restaurant, okay?” Marc pleaded. Byron promised that he would, and then he disconnected. “Is everything alright?” Bailey asked, looking expectantly at Marc. “No, I don’t think so; those two thugs that tried to kidnap you are back or still in town. Byron spotted them in his restaurant,” Marc informed Bailey.

“What are we going to do? I mean, as long as they are here, I’ll be in danger,” Bailey said, and Marc noticed that the man was calm. Bailey didn’t sound scared or nervous, something had changed, and Marc wanted to know what it was that made Bailey act like this. People didn’t change overnight, so why was Bailey so calm?

“What is it?” a thoughtful-looking Bailey said. Marc pressed his lips together, considered Bailey for a second, then he said, “You look calm; I don’t sense any anxiety in you. Why? What has changed?” Bailey shrugged; he said, “Maybe I’m tired of being afraid, of looking over my shoulder every God damn minute. I want my life back.” “And you will,” Marc promised.

Chapter Thirty Three

“They are at the Madison House. I have their room number. So, we could act tonight,” Lucas said matter-of-factly. “I want them alive because we need to know on whose payroll they are,” Marc replied calmly. “I’m all for that. We will get them to talk. I don’t like torturing people, but I will if it’s necessary,” Lucas said.

Byron was home, and so was Keith. Bailey looked worried. “What’s going on?” he asked when he entered the living room. “Come here, baby,” Marc pulled Bailey close and pressed him against his body. “Tonight, we’re going to get those two men that tried to kidnap you,” Marc said. He knew that lying to Bailey wasn’t an option if he wanted a future with the man. Yes, he definitely wanted a future with Bailey.

“No, I want you to stay here, where you’re safe,” Marc said when Bailey opened his mouth to say something. “But.” “No buts, baby. I can’t concentrate when I know that you’re not safe. I can’t watch over you and protect you and at the same time catch those two idiots,” Marc said in a soft yet firm voice. Bailey knew that protesting wouldn’t help, so he conceded, but he didn’t like it.

Mario and his two bodyguards would stay at the mansion to protect Bailey when things would go terribly wrong. The mob boss had sent Brad home because the man needed to recover. Dennis Ashby, Brad’s replacement, looked like he ate kittens for breakfast, but he was surprisingly nice toward Bailey. The man came out of the kitchen holding two glasses of milk. “Here, drink this. It’s good for you,” Dennis said as he held a glass in front of Bailey. “Thank you,” Bailey said as he took the glass.

Mario chuckled, he knew that the tough-looking bodyguard could snap a man’s neck and smile, but he could be very considerate toward people he liked. All Bailey wanted was for Marc, Byron, Keith, and Lucas to come home safely. He didn’t like it that his friends had to face danger because someone was after him.

“It is what it is, Bailey,” Dennis softly said as if he had read Bailey’s mind. “I see the worry in your eyes, but these men know what they are doing and how to keep themselves safe,” Dennis added after seeing the worry on Bailey’s face.

******

Lucas had crept under the window of the room that the two thugs were in, listening intently for any noises that indicated if the two men were awake or asleep. He didn’t hear anything, and he signaled Marc that all was silent. Marc signaled back that he had understood and that they would take action. Marc, Keith, and Byron also crept to the motel room, and Keith pulled a card key out of his jeans pocket and silently opened the door. Both men were fast asleep.

Lucas smiled evilly when he woke the one who was sleeping on the left side of the bed. “Hey,” Lucas whispered. When the man opened his eyes, Lucas grabbed him by the throat, and then his fist met the man’s face. It happened so fast that when the other one, who was occupying the bed on the right side, opened his eyes, he woke to Marc’s fist.

Byron told them that the coast was clear, and the four men lifted the two thugs into the trunk, one in Marc’s car and the other in the car that Keith drove. Both cars belonged to Marc, and they were big enough to transport the unconscious men. Keith’s car was too small, as was Byron’s vehicle. Marc hadn’t wanted to use Bailey’s new car, and he had two cars that were perfect for what they needed to do.

******

“What the hell?” Dennis growled. Mario grabbed for his gun, and so did the two bodyguards. “What’s wrong?” Bailey asked in alarm. “There’s someone in the garden,” Dennis said as he kept staring out of the window. Then he went into the hall, and after a few seconds, Denis opened the front door, stepped outside, and closed the door quietly behind him.

Bailey stiffened when he heard shots. “Go into the dining room and stay there until I tell you otherwise,” Mario said, and Bailey obeyed because he couldn’t refuse Mario’s commanding tone. Mario, however, stayed in the room, gun at the ready. Dan was gone too now; Bailey hadn’t seen him leave, though. “My bodyguards know how to be a team; that’s their strength, that’s why I’m so powerful. I pay them well, but what’s more important, we are family,” Mario explained.

Bailey understood, family was important, and his thoughts wandered off to Brendan. God, he missed his brother so much. Mario considered Bailey for a while before he finally said, “Would you accompany me tomorrow to Brendan’s grave?” The question was so unexpected that Bailey didn’t immediately answer the man.

Mario waited patiently for Bailey to collect himself. The mob boss saw so much hurt when Bailey finally lifted his head and looked at him that it broke his heart. “It’s alright if you’re not ready to accompany me. I understand,” Mario softly said as he sat down beside Bailey. Mario had closed the curtains in the dining room, so no light was visible from the outside.

Even though Mario had focussed on Bailey, he still had his gun on the ready. “No, it’s fine. I just didn’t expect.” “For me to want to visit my son’s grave?” Mario gently interrupted. Bailey nodded because the man had hit the nail on the head. “So, what do you say? Shall we visit Brendan’s grave together, tomorrow or the day after that?” Mario carefully suggested.

“I would like that,” Bailey quietly itted. “I like that too. You let me know which day, okay?” Mario said. “We need to wait until the others are back.” Bailey wanted to say more, but the window was scattered, and Mario pushed Bailey behind him as he pointed his gun. The man was ready to shoot the first person who came through the window.

The noise outside let Bailey know that the bodyguards were fighting the intruders. Then, shots were fired, and Bailey stiffened. Mario wanted to go outside and the bodyguards, but he didn’t dare leave Bailey unprotected.

Bailey was glad that Mario had stayed with him because he didn’t have a gun, and even if he had one, Bailey didn’t know how to handle a weapon. It had never been necessary to possess a gun to defend himself, until now, apparently. No, Bailey didn’t want to own a gun; he was afraid of weapons.

Suddenly the noise stopped, and it became eerily quiet outside. Bailey wanted to go and see if Dan and Dennis were alright when the two bodyguards came into the dining room. “They got away; I’m sorry that we failed you,” said Dan. “What happened, and are the two of you alright?” Mario informed, surprising Bailey once again. The man really had feelings. Bailey only knew mobsters from the movies, and they were ruthless.

“Just some bruises come morning. We managed to shoot one of them, though,” Dennis grinned. Mario, however, didn’t smile. “I’m glad that both of you are alright,” he said. “Why was the window shattered?” Bailey asked. “One of the intruders took a swing at me, and I ducked; he hit the window instead,” Dennis explained.

“Good for you, and I’m glad that both of you are okay. The window can be replaced; you two can’t,” said Bailey, and he realized with a shock that he meant it. Dan and Dennis started boarding up the broken window, and then everyone sat in the living room, waiting to hear from Marc.

It was almost midnight when Bailey and Mario’s phones began ringing simultaneously. Bailey smiled in relief when the display showed Marc’s handsome face. “Marc? Is everything alright? I was so worried,” Bailey began. “Whoa, slow down, baby. I’m fine and so is everyone with me. I just wanted to let you know that I probably need to spend the night in the warehouse. We need to get information from the two men that we captured tonight,” Marc said in a calm tone.

Bailey wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he wanted Marc, like he had wanted no other, ever. On the other, Marc was a killer, a ruthless assassin. The man murdered people for money. Bailey still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Yes, he had fallen hard for the handsome man, but that was before he knew that this same handsome man was a hired killer.

“Well, we had our own action a couple of hours ago,” Bailey said, and he tried to sound matter of fact but couldn’t manage to pull it off. “Baby? What happened? Are you alright?” Marc sounded worried and alarmed. “We are alright. Dan and Dennis did an excellent job protecting me. And my father stayed with me, his gun ready to fire at anyone who came into the room. He kept me safe, even though he wanted to go outside and his bodyguards,” Bailey spoke rapidly, and that told Marc that the man had been scared to death.

“I could come home,” Marc said. “No, no, you stay where you are and do what it is that you need to do. The fight here at the house is over, and no one is hurt. Dennis and Dan and my father are perfectly able to keep me safe,” Bailey assured. It took a few more minutes to convince Marc that Bailey was alright, but finally, the assassin relented.

After Bailey promised for the fourth, or was it the fourteenth time, that he would call Marc if they were attacked again, Marc finally rang off. It warmed Bailey’s heart when he had heard the worry in Marc’s voice; the man had been sincere. Bailey found it harder and harder to ignore his feelings for the assassin.

Chapter Thirty Four

“Too bad that those two idiots didn’t know who was paying them,” said Lucas when they were on their way home. Marc sighed; it was morning; all night, they had tried to get information from the two men they had captured. It had frustrated Marc to no end that they weren’t any wiser afterward; an unknown person paid both men. Hell, they couldn’t even describe that person, not even if it was a woman or a man. At dawn, Marc had put a bullet in their heads and buried them in a God-forsaken area.

“Thank God, you’re here,” Bailey cried out as he flew into Marc’s arms when the man entered the house. Marc was pleasantly surprised by Bailey’s reaction, and he hugged him tightly. “Damn, it feels so good to hold you, baby,” Marc whispered in Bailey’s ear, making him shudder.

Marc chuckled; he loved that he had such an impact on Bailey. After his confession about being an assassin, Marc had thought that he would lose Bailey. The man had kept his distance. It had been so hard not to force the Bailey to come into his arms. Marc wasn’t someone who forced people; it just wasn’t him, even though he was an assassin.

That Bailey was relieved and happy to see him filled him with joy, and thought hit him like a freight train. If he hadn’t been sure about his feelings for Bailey, he was now. Marc got a second chance on love, and he would take that chance with both hands; yes, he was determined to make it work. Also, he was sure now that he wouldn’t take assignments anymore, not for all the money in the world.

“I missed you too, baby,” Marc chuckled. Bailey looked up, and Marc frowned when he saw the worry in the man’s eyes. “Tell me all about what happened last night,” Marc gently urged. “My father is on the back deck, and Dan and Dennis are with him. They can tell you everything that happened. I was bravely hiding in the dining room,” Bailey whispered.

“Baby. You’re one of the bravest people I know,” Marc said. Bailey shook his head. “No, I’m not. I was so freaking scared,” he itted. “Listen to me. You’ve been through hell and back, and you’re functioning pretty well even though still in danger. You still are sane, and to me, you seem centered. That’s what I call bravery. You are brave, don’t sell yourself short, baby,” Marc assured. Bailey didn’t reply because what could he say?

“It’s alright to be scared. I’m scared too, sometimes,” Marc itted. Bailey was surprised by that statement. “You are an assassin, and you’re afraid sometimes?” Bailey asked. Marc chuckled. “I’m human, baby. And being afraid sometimes, that’s how you stay on your qui vive. That’s how you stay alive. That makes it that you survive,” Marc gently explained.

Bailey nodded, but Marc knew that he hadn’t convinced the man. Well, he had spoken the truth. Bailey wanted to ask about the two men they had captured the previous night, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what Marc and the rest had done to those two thugs. Granted, they wanted Bailey dead, but somehow, Bailey wouldn’t have murdered them. Well, maybe he would because after all, they were after him, wanted him dead. Bailey was confused about his feelings. Would he be able to kill a person and sleep at night?

“You’re thinking too hard, baby,” Marc softly said. “Yes, I am,” Bailey sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?” Marc said because he wanted, needed to know what was going on in Bailey’s head. What made the man tick. How did he really feel about Marc being an assassin?

Marc brought his lips to Bailey’s ear and whispered, “I love you, baby.” Marc felt Bailey stiffen; shit, this was so not good. After a moment of silence, Bailey spoke. “I love you too, and that scares the hell out of me.”

Once Marc and Bailey ed the others at the back deck, Mario began to explain what had happened the previous night. Bailey could feel, literally feel Marc’s rage. “I’m alright, really,” Bailey said, and he tried to smile but failed miserably.

“We will get them,” Marc promised, and yes, he was furious because Bailey should have been safe at the mansion. Lucas eyed Marc; he said, “We need to check the angles of the existing cameras, and then we probably need to install a few more.” Marc nodded in agreement. He had thought about installing motion sensors, but he refused to change his home into a fort. Marc would install motion sensors only when he wouldn’t have another choice. For now, he would only permit more cameras.

Marc eyed Mario. “We need to know what went on the previous night and who it was that attacked the mansion. We know that it wasn’t the two thugs because they kept us company,” Marc said. “That makes me wonder,” said Keith. “What do you mean?” Lucas said.

“Well, could it be that more people are after Bailey?” Keith explained. “I don’t follow. More people want me dead? Why? I’ve never harmed anyone,” an indignant-looking Bailey said. “Your guess is as good as mine,” said Marc. The assassin glanced around. “Anyone any ideas?” he addressed everyone in the room. Marc sighed because no one had a clue, which was frustrating.

Marc was wrecking his brain because who else was after Bailey? Hell, they weren’t even sure who placed the bomb under Bailey’s car. The two thugs had denied doing that. They told Marc they didn’t even know how to make a bomb, let alone place one under a car.

“All the time, I thought that it was you, who wanted me dead,” Bailey softly said, looking at Mario. “Well, I can’t blame you for thinking that. But, you are my son, my flesh and blood, and I would never hurt you,” Mario said. “I didn’t know it then, but I know now, father,” said Bailey.

Bailey had called Mario “father” a few times, and it was now that he had noticed it. Had he called the man, father without realizing it? Bailey came to the conclusion that he must like Mario more than he wanted to it.

Everyone present at the house had taken part in the discussion about who was after Bailey. Keith had suggested several times that he believed that there was more than one person behind the attacks. Marc had slowly started to think that maybe, just maybe, Keith was right. However, Bailey was a nice guy, and as far as he knew it, he didn’t have enemies.

Robert Delossantos’ name had come up a couple of times, but he had no reason to go after Bailey. Mario doubted if Robert even knew about Bailey. Even if Robert knew that he had a younger brother, he didn’t have a reason to kill him. Robert was the heir to the Delossantos legacy if one could call it that.

Mario had made sure that Robert was ready to take over the empire should something happen to the mob boss. So, Marc couldn’t imagine that Robert would do such a stupid thing as to go after his younger sibling. It was something that Mario wouldn’t allow because family was sacred, and Robert knew that very well.

Mario had asked Keith and then Marc if they had enemies who wanted them buried six feet under. Keith had shaken his head. He wasn’t an FBI agent anymore, and because of that, no one cared what he was doing or where he was going. Plus, no one in Madison Valley knew about Keith’s past as an FBI agent.

Marc also had shaken his head because there only were a handful of people who knew his true identity. No one in Madison Valley knew about Marc’s activities. So no, Marc hadn’t enemies, well, not that he was aware of anyway.

“So, we’re back to square one?” an irritated Marc said. “I’m afraid so. We really need to do something to lure them out of their hiding place,” said Mario. “I’m not offering Bailey up as bait, no fucking way,” Marc growled. Bailey, however, didn’t mind because all that he wanted was to catch the criminals who were after him. Marc didn’t want to hear of it, and that was final.

“I’ve looked over the footage again and again, but I can’t come up with something new. Too bad that those two idiots didn’t know anything,” a grimlooking Byron commented. “We could go to Pete’s Place and have dinner,” Bailey said. “No!” “Why not? Both of us like that place,” Bailey said. “You want to be the bait, lure out the ones who are after you,” Marc chuckled; even though he didn’t know Bailey that long, he knew the man quite well.

Well, I have to go because I need to open the restaurant,” Byron said. Marc told his younger brother to pay attention to his surroundings, be careful, and call if anything seems out of the ordinary. Byron promised while he saluted his brother, and then he left the room.

Chapter Thirty Five

“Where is Bailey?” Marc yelled when he couldn’t find the man anywhere. Mario shrugged. “I thought that he was in the orchard,” he answered, and Marc could see the sudden worry in the man’s expression. “I can’t find him,” an out of breath Keith came running into the room. Marc’s pulse sped up, and just when he was on his way to his car, he was stopped by Byron. Marc followed Byron into his study and was horrified when the footage showed Bailey walking toward the gate.

“What the hell? Why is he leaving the safety of the house?” Marc growled because he refused to believe that Bailey was so careless. “I will ask him when he comes back,” Marc softly added. “There’s more to come. Watch this,” Byron hit a few keys on the keyboard, and Marc now saw the footage that showed the gate. He watched in shock when he saw a car stop, and Bailey was pulled into the back.

“Goddammit! What the hell is going on?” Marc cursed, and by now, Mario, Keith, Dan, and Dennis had also entered the room. “What’s going on? Is Bailey alright?” Mario growled. “I don’t know. Somehow someone must have gotten through to him because it seemed that he went outside voluntarily,” Marc said while he kept staring at the footage that showed Bailey being pulled into a car.

“I’m running the license plate as we speak. Just a sec,” Byron whispered. “Can you get a close-up from the scumbags who are in the front of the vehicle?” Mario asked; he was standing beside Marc now. “I hacked every street camera in every direction, and I know that they drove south,” said Byron.

The license plate was that of a rental car, and Byron suspected that they had rented the vehicle under a false name. Marc, Mario, the two bodyguards, Dan and Dennis, and Keith were already on their way to their cars. They would take the road that led away from Madison Valley. Marc didn’t dare to think of Bailey in the hands of psychopaths. Images of Alec, hanging on a meat hook that was

tight to the ceiling in the basement, flowed into his mind. He couldn’t shake those terrifying images.

These days, Alec wasn’t much on Marc’s mind because Marc had fallen hard for the florist. The assassin and the florist, go figure. Marc was determined not to let Bailey die in the hands of those maniacs. Not Alec all over again, no no no.

“We will find him in time, and then we’ll deal with those who dared to touch my son,” Mario said in a low and dangerous voice. “I want in on the punishment. I want them to die, slowly, very slowly,” Marc said in a barely audible voice. “Absolutely, I wouldn’t want to take away all the fun from you,” Mario said. It sounded like teasing, but the man wasn’t laughing. Marc nodded as they drove further south.

Marc stopped the car. “Byron could follow them to this point. He checked the next traffic camera but couldn’t find a trace from the rental. So, I guess that somewhere between here and the next traffic camera, we will find the car, and with that, Bailey,” Marc said. “Then let’s waste no time,” Mario replied, and Marc was all for that.

They drove for some time now, and Marc wanted to turn the car when he saw what looked like a huge barn. He stopped the vehicle and left the car, Mario and Lucas hot on his heels. Keith drove the other vehicle; Dan and Dennis were riding with him. Byron had stayed home to see if he could find out more by hacking into more traffic cameras.

When Marc saw fresh tire tracks, he knew for sure that it came from the rental that they were searching for. They carefully crept toward the barn. They had luck because to the left of the barn were a lot of trees and bushes, which was perfect to approach the barn, unseen.

Mario was the first who saw the rental; it was parked next to the barn. The vehicle wasn’t visible from the road. So, if Byron hadn’t pointed them in the right direction, then they probably never would have found the rental, and thus Bailey. Well, Marc hoped that they would find Bailey; if not, no, Marc wouldn’t go down that road.

When they stood with their back’s against the barn wall, Marc could hear muffled voices. “We need to find a window because we need to assess the situation,” Marc whispered to Mario. The mob boss nodded, and Marc knew that if it were up to Mario, the man would go in, guns blazing. However, that was not an option since Bailey was inside too; well, at least Marc assumed that the man was in the barn.

Marc found an opening in the wooden wall of the barn, and he signaled the others over. Marc could peek inside, and his blood froze when he saw Bailey sitting on a chair, hands tight behind his back. That wasn’t all; to Marc’s horror, he saw that someone had placed Bailey’s feet in a bucket of water. Marc knew what that meant, and he wouldn’t let that happen.

A man came into view, his back to Marc, so he couldn’t see who it was. “We wait until Mario gets here because I want him to witness the electrocution of my little brother,” the voice said.

Mario apparently seemed to recognize the voice because he paled. Marc frowned, silently asking what was wrong with the mob boss. “I can’t believe it, but this is the voice of Robert, my son,” Mario whispered. Before Marc could respond, the mob boss kicked open the door and stepped inside the barn, gun drawn.

Marc sighed, and he was about to go after Mario when he heard a familiar voice say. “Look who we have here. The great Mario Delossantos himself. I guess that dear Marc isn’t far behind then, right?” Marc didn’t hear Mario’s reply because he was frozen to the spot. He knew this particular voice very well, and he didn’t understand. How was it possible? No, this was not happening. Was that Shauna, his sister? Was Shauna involved in taking Bailey and, oh, God, placing the bomb under Bailey’s car?

For a moment, Marc was paralyzed, shocked, and then the shock changed into a rage. It was pure, unadulterated rage. His family, his own God damned family, was involved in murdering Brendan? Granted, they had been after Bailey, and with that, the next question arose. Why would they want to kill Bailey? It didn’t make any sense. Then, Marc heard another voice, a man’s voice, but for the life of him, he couldn’t place this one. That meant that this was someone who he didn’t know. “Darling, why don’t we kill the little faggot, right now? Why wait?” the male voice urged Shauna to kill Bailey? Who was this piece of shit? Marc, Keith, Dan, and Dennis were ready to enter the barn when Robert spoke again, and this time he was talking to his father.

“So, dad, what brings you here? Are you here to help me kill this little faggot? Or, are you here to rescue him?” Robert drawled. “Don’t be stupid, Robert. You can’t kill your brother, I won’t allow it, and you know that,” Mario replied in an icy tone.

“Well, you know that it’s not your call anymore, old man,” Robert’s tone was changing. There was no emotion, nothing. Dear God, was Robert just as deranged as Fabian had been? “Oh, and I will wait with torturing the little faggot until Marc gets here. Yes, I know that Marc is near. I can almost smell the bastard,” Robert growled, and Marc could hear that the man was losing his control.

Lucas had taken his position. The man sat in a tree, and from there, he had a perfect view of most people in the barn. The barn had only one entrance, and that made it harder to attack. They had to go through the front door, and Marc was sure that either Robert or the other male would be ready to fire at them.

Chapter Thirty Six

They had found the location where Bailey was held, and Marc had prepared for a fight. Then, everything had changed when Marc had heard another very familiar voice, and it was one he had never expected to hear again. Marc was horrified, and his heart was beating so fast that breathing became difficult. That one familiar voice had shocked the hell out of Marc.

Dan and Dennis eyed him with curiosity. Marc was in shock because this was not possible, and yet, Marc had recognized the voice, and he was sure that it was the voice of Alec. Marc was breathing too fast, and his head began to spin. It was Dennis who helped him to get his breathing under control. The bodyguard looked at Marc, the question loud and clear. Dennis wanted to know what was going on with Marc because they needed to have each other’s back without flipping out. “I need a moment; you will understand soon,” Marc whispered. Dennis nodded, but Marc could see that the man wasn’t convinced. Well, he couldn’t blame him because Marc wouldn’t be convinced either.

For the first time in his life, Marc didn’t know what to do; his indecisiveness had paralyzed him. Robert’s voice tore Marc out of his stupor. “I could start with you, old man. I kill you now; that would make me the head of the family. I, as head of the family, would condone killing family ,” Robert said, and to Marc, he sounded too calm, too collected.

“We wait because I want Marc to witness when we torture and then kill Bailey before we kill Marc.” It was Alec’s voice, but the man sounded so cold, Marc didn’t hear one ounce of emotion. That was not the Alec Marc had loved and lived with for many years.

“He’s near; I can feel it,” Alec said. “Robert? What’s gotten into you that you want to murder your brother? And me, your own father?” Mario said. The man was not only flabbergasted to know that his eldest son was involved in everything that had happened in Madison Valley; no, he was livid.

Lucas had seen Alec too because he signaled Marc. Marc signaled back that he too knew that a very much alive Alec was in the barn where they held Bailey. Marc thought about the best way to save Bailey and to keep Alec alive because he had many questions for the man. It had taken more than a couple of minutes for Marc to recover from the shock after seeing a very much alive Alec. The man was filled with hatred, which confused Marc because Alec had always been a kind and fun-loving man.

“What is the plan?” Dennis quietly asked because his boss was inside, and apparently, his psycho son had pointed a gun at him. Marc explained to the two bodyguards what his plan was. Lucas would take out the unknown male; at the same time, Marc, Dan, Keith, and Dennis would burst into the barn through its only entrance. If it were up to Marc, he would go in, guns blazing, but Bailey was in there, and Marc didn’t want to risk the man’s life. Plus, there was Alec, a very much alive Alec, which shouldn’t have been possible. Marc had seen Alec hanging on a meat hook upside down in the basement.

Marc had urged the men only to kill the perpetrators if it was necessary. He wanted Alec alive because a confused Marc needed answers, but Bailey’s safety was priority number one. They had to keep Mario alive as well. Marc wondered how the mob boss would react when shooting and killing Robert, his precious son.

When suddenly a shot was fired, the men acted swiftly and decisively. When Marc entered the barn, he saw Mario, and the man was lying in a pool of his own blood. Shit, this was not good. Then two shots were fired, and Marc saw Dan and Keith going down. A third shot sounded, and this time, it was the unknown man who had fired at Dan, went down, and by the empty stare in the man’s eyes, Marc knew that he was dead. Marc inwardly praised Lucas; the man had come through for him once again.

Shauna, Marc’s sister, screamed in shock and ran toward the man who lay dead on the floor. She was screaming and crying, then Shauna looked up at Marc, and the assassin was surprised to see the hatred in her eyes. “You killed him! You killed my fiancé. I swear to God that you will pay for that, you bastard.” Shauna was now hysterical.

Suddenly she had a gun in her hand, how she got the weapon so fast, Marc didn’t know. Shauna pointed at Bailey and looked at Marc, and said, “Say goodbye to your boyfriend, dear brother.” Then, a shot was fired, but it wasn’t Bailey that was hit. Shauna went down screaming in pain and rage. Marc saw that her shoulder was hit, and he knew that it had been Lucas who had fired the shot.

Marc looked at Bailey and saw that his eyes were too big and full of panic. “God damn, stop firing,” Robert shouted. Marc stayed where he was when he saw that Alec was observing him. “Well well well, the great assassin is here, finally.” The tone in which Alec spoke was dripping with sarcasm.

Thank God that Marc had time to recover from the shock to see his former lover alive and healthy. “Well,” Marc drawled, “You look good for a dead man, but before you kill me, will you share why you faked your death? And, why you hate me so much?” he questioned. “You disgust me.” Alec spat out the words, and there was so much contempt in them that it made Marc nauseous.

What the hell was wrong with the man he once had loved so much? What had changed that Alec’s love for him had turned into hate? It was evident that the man despised Marc. For the life of him, Marc couldn’t come up with a reason why Alec hated him so much that he wanted to see him dead.

“Oh, I will, but first, you will watch me torture and kill this one here,” Alec pointed at Bailey, who tried to move away from Alec, but that was impossible.

“I’ll torture and kill Bailey; after all, he’s my brother. You take care of the assassin,” Robert interrupted. Alec frowned, then he shook his head.

“I don’t think so, Robert. I want to see Marc suffer through my hands before I kill him. That means that I will torture the little faggot. “You killed your father so you could take over as head of the Delossantos Family. Let me do my thing,” Alec’s tone was icy and void of any kind of emotion. Marc didn’t recognize his former lover anymore. Alec was had become a complete stranger. He looked like Alec, but it could have been Ted Bundy that stood in front of him.

It seemed that Bailey had made the connection, too, because he glanced from Marc to Alec and back to Marc again. His eyes were begging Marc to help him. Marc stayed imive because he hoped that Alec wouldn’t notice how much he cared for Bailey.

Alec had his gun pointed straight at Marc when he came closer. He leaned toward Marc and said, “I know how much you care for that little piece of shit. Don’t take me for a fool because I’m not.” Marc felt Alec’s hot breath caressing his skin, and he noticed that he didn’t feel anything; in fact, he didn’t even like it.

From his peripheral vision, Marc saw Mario stir. The bodyguard didn’t move, and Marc hoped that Dan wasn’t dead. Dennis was standing next to Marc, and the man was trembling with anger. Marc only hoped that the bodyguard stayed calm.

Shauna was sitting in the corner; her hand pressed on the shot wound to prevent too much blood loss. “I hate you. You will burn in hell, Marcus Blake. Bastard,” Shauna kept yelling and yelling. “Shut the fuck up!” Robert warned, but Shauna didn’t listen; she kept screaming like a banshee that Marc would burn in hell for

killing her fiancé. Technically it had been Lucas who had fired and killed Eddy Davis, Shauna’s boyfriend.

“I said, shut up,” Robert said, and this time his voice was dangerously low; his eyes were bright with anger. Shauna, however, didn’t notice because she was busy yelling at Marc. Robert pointed his gun at her and fired. It happened so fast that Marc hadn’t even time to respond. Would he have tried to shut up his sister so Robert wouldn’t kill her? Marc honestly didn’t know the answer to that question. “I told you to shut up,” Robert softly said.

Marc tried to put the situation into perspective. So many people were involved, he had thought that it was only Robert who was after Bailey. That the man somehow had found out that he had a younger brother. Now Marc realized how wrong he had been and how he had underestimated the whole situation. And he was afraid that Bailey would pay the price for everything that Marc had done in the past.

Well, no one could blame him for not seeing his sister for what she was. Shauna had been head over heels with Eddy Davis. Marc suddenly realized that he didn’t know anything about Mr. Davis. And even more important, why had he been after Bailey, or had he been after Marc?

Then, there was Alec, the man Marc had loved so much and who he thought had died a terrible death. Marc had mourned Alec for a long time, only to find out that the man wasn’t dead at all. Alec was alive and kicking, and for whatever reason, he hated Marc with a ion.

Marc suddenly heard Lucas through his ear equipment. “I have Robert in my sight. Just say the word,” Lucas whispered. Marc eyed Robert, and when he spoke, it was the answer for Lucas. “I would shoot you myself if I had the

possibility.” The next second, a shot was fired, and Robert went down, hard.

Lucas hadn’t killed him, but Robert had hit his head when he fell to the ground. So, the eldest Delossantos child was out cold. Alec screamed at Marc for killing Robert; then, he pointed his gun at Bailey. Before Marc could react, Dennis threw himself on Alec, and both men fought for the gun. Marc managed to take the gun away from Alec and hit him over the head with it. The man went limp and lay unconscious on the floor.

Marc hadn’t seen anyone else, only Shauna, Robert, Alec, and Shauna’s fiancé, Eddy Davis. So, when a shot was fired, Marc dived toward Bailey to get the man out of harm’s way. Unfortunately, he was too late; Bailey was hit full in the chest. “No,” Marc whispered as he ran to the man he loved so much. Dennis had his gun drawn and fired, but he was too late; the one who had shot Bailey had fled. Then another shot was fired, and Marc knew that it was Lucas because he knew that particular sound very well.

Dennis sat next to Mario. “He’s alive,” Marc assured before he concentrated on Bailey again. “The medics are on their way as we speak,” spoke a familiar voice into Marc’s ear equipment. “Let them hurry; Bailey was shot and hit in the chest,” Marc urged as he slowly took the man in his arms. The mob boss stirred but stayed unconscious.

He knew that he had to come up with an explanation because the sheriff would want to know why the shooting had taken place. Right now, the only important thing was to get Bailey to a hospital so that the man wouldn’t die.

Chapter Thirty Seven

“How are you feeling, Baby?” Marc softly said when Bailey opened his eyes. Bailey looked at Marc; he didn’t smile. It had been two weeks since the shooting, and Bailey was home again, after being ten days in the hospital. Mario was still hospitalized, and so were Dan and Keith. Bailey had been so happy and relieved when the doctor had told him that Keith, Dan, and Mario, would pull through.

Marc had wanted to question Alec, but somehow the man had disappeared during the chaos when someone had opened fire. It turned out that it was Arnulfo, Robert’s right hand, who had fired. Arnulfo had dodged the bullet that Dan had fired at him, but he hadn’t stood a chance against Lucas. The assassin had fired once and wounded Arnulfo to the point that he wasn’t able to run anymore.

Robert was in custody, and so were Arnulfo and Shauna. Marc was worried about Alec because the man had escaped when the paramedics and police had arrived. He knew that Alec wouldn’t give up until Bailey was six feet under. Marc still had no clue why Alec hated him so much. It was a question he wanted an answer to, badly.

“We need to talk,” Bailey softly said as he pushed himself upright and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I know, baby, and we will,” Marc replied while he helped Bailey up from the edge of the bed. Bailey still was a bit shaky, but he felt stronger with every ing day. “After breakfast, we talk,” Bailey said while he leaned heavily on Marc on his way to the adjacent bathroom.

They had breakfast, and then Marc took Bailey outside to the comfortable lounge chairs on the back deck. Marc cupped Bailey’s face and softly kissed him on the lips. Bailey kissed him back, so that was good.

“Do you still love Alec?” It was a question that Marc had expected because he would have asked it too if the shoe had been on the other foot. “No.” Marc’s answer was short and sincere. “Why not? I mean, he’s alive and.” “That man isn’t the Alec that I knew and loved. And my feelings for you go so much deeper than what I ever felt for Alec in all those years. And don’t ask me to explain, because I can’t, not really. I can only tell you how I feel.” Marc took Bailey’s face in both of his hands and said, “I love you so much, and what I feel for you, I’ve never felt for anyone else.”

Bailey smiled, and it was the first genuine smile since after the barn shooting. “Alright, what’s your next question,” Marc said. “Why does Alec hate you so much? You were together for many years, and suddenly the man hates your guts? That’s not logical,” Bailey said. Marc had to agree; it wasn’t logical that Alec hated him with a ion. It was clear that Alec wanted to see Marc suffer. It really didn’t make sense, and Marc was determined to get answers, one way or the other.

“It’s a question that I can’t answer because I don’t know. I’m planning to question Alec about it when we catch him,” Marc replied while he kissed Bailey again. This time Bailey parted his full lips and sucked on Marc’s tongue, making the former assassin softly moan.

Marc had sworn that he wouldn’t work as an assassin anymore. He didn’t know what he wanted to do, but he wouldn’t take assignments anymore. What surprised Marc was that his client hadn’t called anymore. It was strange, and if Marc hadn’t been so focussed on Bailey, he would have known that something wasn’t right.

“What was the reaction of your family when they heard about Shauna?” Bailey questioned. Marc sighed because he didn’t want to talk about his family, but he had no choice if he wanted to keep Bailey’s trust. “My father doesn’t believe one word that the police told him. He wants to hire the best lawyers money can buy,

just to keep Shauna out of jail. He, of course, blames me for Shauna’s mess. The old man knows that it’s bad for business the moment the news about Shauna hit’s the newspapers. Blake industries could get hurt badly by this,” Marc softly explained.

“Does it trouble you that the family company gets hurt by the scandal your deranged sister created?” Bailey asked as he put his arms around Marc’s waist and leaned his head against Marc’s chest. Listening to Marc’s calm, steady heartbeat relaxed him, and Bailey sighed in contentment.

“No, I don’t give a fuck what happens with Blake Industries,” Marc answered, and that was the God damned truth. “I don’t understand why so many people want me dead,” Bailey whispered. Marc knew that this question would come, and now it was up to Marc to explain as best as he could, except for Alec’s reason for hating him so much because Marc really didn’t know.

Before Marc could say anything, Byron stepped onto the back deck. “I have some disturbing news,” he said. “Sit and enlighten us, please,” Marc said, and the former assassin knew that it had to do with Eddy Davis. Marc had asked Byron to do a background check on Eddy Davis, find out everything there was to know. The man was dead, but he had left Marc with a lot of unanswered questions.

“Don’t ask me how I got the information that I’m going to share with you because it’s very complicated,” Byron began, and Marc knew that his brother meant well and that computer stuff could be complicated. Besides, Marc didn’t need to know how; he just wanted to hear the results.

“Alright. Eddy was more than Shauna’s boyfriend or fiancé. Get this, brother,” Byron looked intently at Marc; he said, “Eddy was your client. He was the one

who gave you your assignments.” Marc was too stunned to speak. It was Bailey who said, “If this Eddy guy gave you the assignments, does Shauna knows about it too?” He was her fiancé, after all.”

“I wouldn’t know because I haven’t spoken to her after she got arrested,” Marc said. And he hoped that his sister didn’t know about him being a former assassin. If so, then Shauna could make it very difficult for him. Marc was confused because who the fuck was Eddy Davis?

“There’s more, isn’t there?” Marc questioned. Byron nodded. “Yes, unfortunately, there is. Eddy Davis isn’t the man’s real name. Does the name Darren Brown ring any bells? I couldn’t get much information about him,” Byron said. “Are you sure about the name?” Marc said because he knew Darren Brown. Well, not the man itself but his reputation.

“Darren Brown was one of the best assassins of the country until he disappeared, and he was my client? That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Darren give me assignments?” Marc asked no one in particular. “I can’t help you with that, brother. That’s for you to find out. I believe that it’s personal, though.” Byron stood and squeezed Marc’s shoulder.

“So, just to make sure that I understood everything correctly. Robert somehow knew about me being a Delossantos. He felt threatened, and that’s why he wanted me dead. I disagree with him, but I understand. What is Shauna’s reason for hating you so much that she wanted not only to see you dead but me as well?” Bailey said. Marc didn’t have an answer to that question, but he would find out.

“Then, Darren Brown, aka Eddy Davis. What did you do to the guy that he wants you dead? Then there’s Alec, what’s his reason? Why does he hate you so

much?” Bailey said. Bailey always thought out loud; to him, it was the best way to put things into perspective. “I don’t know, but I will find the answers to our questions,” Marc promised.

Suddenly Bailey shot upright, his eyes big. “What is it, baby?” “I know that man, the one that called himself Eddy Davis,” Bailey whispered. “Are you sure? Where do you know him from?” an alarmed Marc questioned. “About six weeks before,” Bailey paused, swallowed hard, and blinked profusely to keep the tears that slowly filled his eyes, at bay.

He sighed, and then Bailey continued in a soft voice. “Darren bought flowers every Friday; he bought a bouquet of mixed field flowers, six Fridays in a row.” Bailey paused again, and this time he wasn’t able to keep the tears at bay. After a few minutes, he went on in a choked-up voice, “That was until Brendan was killed. After that, I never saw him again.”

That got Marc’s attention. “Shit,” he cursed. “Yeah, shit,” Bailey echoed because he too knew what that meant. They probably had kept an eye on Bailey before Marc had even noticed the Flower Hut and its handsome owner. Had Darren been interested in Bailey or Brendan? Was Brendan’s death not an error? Had they actually murdered Brendan because they were after him?

Bailey had thought the same thing; Marc could tell by the expression on the man’s face. “Was Darren after Brendan or after me? And why?” Bailey sounded angry as tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t know how, but I will find the answer to that question,” Marc promised. Bailey nodded.

The cops had questioned Marc, Bailey, Lucas, and Mario until the mob boss had pulled some strings, and suddenly the cops had backed off. Marc didn’t know how Mario had pulled that off, and he didn’t want to know. Shauna Blake,

Robert Delossantos, and Arnulfo Jones were in custody. Darren Brown was dead, and Alec Woods, Marc’s former lover, had disappeared.

“Will Alec return to try and finish the job?” Bailey softly questioned. Marc frowned; he had asked himself that very same question. “Yes, I believe so. The way that I see it is that Alec is a man on a mission. I can’t predict what he will do next because I don’t know this Alec. To me, that man is a stranger,” Marc replied. Bailey understood; he really did.

Marc took Bailey’s face in his hands and looked intently in those beautiful big green eyes. He softly said, “I know that you have trouble with my past as an assassin. Do you think that you can get past that, and we can start planning our future? To love and trust me?”

“I asked myself that same question, and the answer is yes. You are a good man, even though you killed people for money. They were bad guys, rotten to the core, I know. Still, I’m glad that you retired,” Bailey replied. Marc knew that he had to come clean about one more thing. He hoped and prayed that Bailey wouldn’t change his mind after what he had to say.

Chapter Thirty Eight

Bailey sat under the pear tree; it was where he could clear his mind and think. He still was reeling from the knowledge that it had been Marc who had shot and killed Fabian, his twin brother. All this time, Marc had known that Bailey was Fabian’s twin. The man hadn’t said anything about it.

Bailey didn’t know what to do right now. Bailey couldn’t deny the fact that he loved Marc. He didn’t want to, but when it came to love, there wasn’t an on and off switch. He just had to deal with it and maybe forget about Marc.

The construction company had started rebuilding the flower shop and his apartment. Yes, maybe he should move out of the mansion because the danger was dealt with; the perpetrators were either dead or in custody. Bailey thought about where he could stay until his apartment and the shop was rebuilt.

He did know a place where he could stay; hell, he owned it. Since Bailey couldn’t come up with another place to stay, he knew he didn’t have another choice. Besides, Brendan would have demanded that he would live in the apartment above Vintage Treasures.

Bailey had asked Keith to look after the apartment after Brendan’s death. Now it was time that he took over. Yep, it was time to let Marc know that he wouldn’t be staying any longer at the mansion.

Bailey entered the house but came to an abrupt halt when he heard voices, which belonged to Byron and Marc. “Bailey needs protection because as long as Alec roams the streets, he isn’t safe. I’ll be damned if I let anything happen to him. If Alec wants Bailey, then he has to go through me. There’s no way that I let him hurt Bailey,” Marc said.

Hearing those words made Bailey doubt if he should leave Marc. The man loved him so much, and he felt the same. Why did he feel like that? Fabian had to be a monster; otherwise, Marc wouldn’t have killed him. Still, why did it feel so wrong that Marc had killed Fabian? Maybe because he had never gotten the chance to get to know Fabian?

Then, another question came to mind. Did Mario know who had killed his son? After all, it was his son. He would talk to his father this afternoon. Bailey wanted to visit Mario, Dan, and Keith at the hospital.

“Hey, baby? Is everything alright?” Marc asked when he saw Bailey standing on the threshold. “I need to talk to you,” Bailey softly said. Marc frowned but nodded. Byron excused himself and left. Marc sat down and motioned for Bailey to him; he declined.

“I’m moving out,” Bailey said. For a moment, Marc seemed lost for words, then he said, “Is it because of Fabian?” That was Marc, always straightforward. “Partly, yes. But I need to get things into perspective, and I can’t do that when I’m here, with you. I need time, Marc,” Bailey replied.

Even though Marc was thrown off-kilter, he would never keep Bailey against his will, but the fact was that his ex-lover Alec Woods still was at large. Marc needed to know if Bailey still loved him; he had to know where they stood. “I won’t stop you from moving out, even though I hate the idea of you sleeping somewhere else. Tell me, do we still have a chance together? If so, then I will give you all the time that you need,” Marc’s quietly said.

Bailey saw the pain in Marc’s eyes, and he felt like shit because he had put that

pain there. Still, he needed time to think things through about what he really wanted. And if Bailey could forgive Marc for killing his twin.

Bailey shook his head. “I wish that I could answer with yes, but that would be a lie,” he replied, and his heart hurt when he saw the pain in Marc’s eyes. “It’s just; I don’t know. I love you, I love you so much, and that scares the hell out of me. I don’t want to start our relationship with lies or doubts. I need to be sure before I commit to you.”

Bailey tried to be as honest as possible. “I hope that you give me the time that I need,” Bailey finished. Marc was devastated, but he didn’t have a choice. If Bailey needed time, then he would give the man as much time as he needed.

Marc thought of the words his mother had once said to him. “To love someone means to let go, and if that love is strong enough, then that person will return.” So, Marc didn’t have another choice than to trust his mother’s words. Besides, Marc would never force Bailey to stay.

“I won’t force you to stay with me, but you need to be careful because Alec is still at large. The man won’t stop hunting you. If not me, then at least let your father protect you,” Marc said, and even though he sounded calm, Bailey could see the hurt.

“I will talk to my father about it,” Bailey promised. “But I’m not worried. I don’t believe that Alec is still around. He will come back for me, of that I’m certain. But for now, I think that he needs to regroup,” Bailey added. Marc nodded. “I do love you, Marc,” Bailey whispered, then he turned and left the room. To leave the man he loved so much was the hardest thing that Bailey ever had done.

“Of course, you will get the protection that you need. But, are you sure about Marc? That man is nuts about you,” Mario sat upright in his hospital bed. “More men are already on their way as we speak. Plus, I rented a place just outside of town. Maybe it would be better if you moved in with me, for the time being. It’s safer than the apartment above the antique shop,” Mario said as he looked expectantly at his youngest son.

After his talk with Marc, Bailey had packed his belongings and had put them in the car Mario had bought for him. It wasn’t a big car because Bailey didn’t like to drive those huge SUVs that Mario had offered to buy for him.

Bailey promised to think about Mario’s offer to move in with him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to live with his father because he really needed alone time. Then again, he would be safe at Mario’s house. Ah, choices, choices. Bailey went to see Dan and Keith; both men were still in the hospital. Keith and Dan would be released in two days if there were no complications.

When Bailey left the hospital, he felt a tingling in his neck. He glanced around, but everything seemed in order. But what did he know? Bailey wasn’t a trained bodyguard, or mob boss, because they always noticed when something was wrong.

Bailey went to the Antique shop that once had belonged to Brendan and climbed the stairs to the apartment. He opened the door and carefully stepped inside. He noticed that it smelled fresh, and the rooms were tidy. It was like Brendan would return home any minute.

Bailey sighed because he didn’t know what he had expected, but the apartment was cleaned, and all of Brendan’s personal belongings were in storage until Bailey decided what to do with it. He knew all of that because he had to consent;

still, it was strange to see the apartment after such a long time.

Bailey hadn’t set a foot inside the apartment since Brendan’s death. Now, he didn’t have much choice. He knew that his brother had wanted him to move into the apartment. Bailey unpacked; well, there wasn’t much to unpack, not really. There were his clothes and toiletries. He placed the photo of him and Brendan on the antique dresser that was in the living room.

Marc had surprised him when he had sent some pictures of Bailey’s Facebook page to the print shop, where, after printing, they had put the photos in lovely silver frames as well. Bailey had been touched by the gesture, and Marc had looked so pleased.

Bailey turned the radio on and searched for music that he liked; then, he made a list of groceries he would need. There wasn’t any food in the apartment. Thinking of food should have made Bailey feel hungry, but it made him feel nauseous instead. He decided to buy some groceries anyway, just in case he would get hungry. Even though he said he wasn’t worried about Alec, Bailey scanned his surroundings when he left the apartment while going to the supermarket.

Bailey was putting butter into the shopping cart when someone tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump. It was a customer who bought lily’s every week.

After telling the man that he was doing fine and that he didn’t need to worry, Bailey continued checking his list so that he wouldn’t forget anything. He didn’t want to go back for one or two things that he had forgotten. Bailey had to it, at least to himself, that he was nervous. He didn’t feel safe anymore, damn Alec, that bastard.

When Bailey got back into the apartment, his phone light blinked, signaling that he had a voicemail. Bailey hadn’t taken his phone with him to the grocery store, which was stupid. Marc had urged him to carry his phone at all times, just in case he needed help.

Bailey took the phone and listened to the voicemail. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it certainly wasn’t hearing Alec’s voice. “Bailey? I’m coming for you, and I’ll come for Marc as well. I won’t rest until both of you are dead, cold, and buried.”

Bailey didn’t hear the rest because he threw the phone on the couch. He was shaking like a leaf. It was scary to hear the mad man threaten him and Marc. “Oh, God, Marc,” Bailey whispered. He needed to warn Marc that he had it all wrong. Alec still was near, and Marc was in danger, and the man didn’t know.

Chapter Thirty Nine

Bailey nearly got a heart attack when the doorbell rang. No one knew that he moved into Brendan’s apartment. Hell, he hadn’t even known until this morning, so who could it be? “I’m slowly getting paranoid; man up, Bailey. Man up and open the door,” Bailey mumbled to himself.

He slowly moved toward the front door and jumped when the doorbell rang again. “Who is it?” Bailey asked through the closed door. “Delivery for Mr. Bailey Hudson,” said the voice. Bailey didn’t hesitate and opened the door; the man handed him his package; Bailey thanked him and closed the door again.

Bailey didn’t think, opened the package, and screamed in horror. In front of him was the cardboard box, and in it was a dead cat. The smell was awful. Bailey ran to the bathroom because he was about to throw up his, well, nothing because he still hadn’t eaten anything today.

Because his stomach had been empty, he threw up bile instead of food, which was so awful. After the dry-heaving had stopped, Bailey brushed his teeth and was at a loss of what to do. The smell that came out of the living room was so God damned nasty. Bailey decided to call Marc because Keith was still in the hospital, as was Mario. Shit, would the man come to the rescue after he basically had left him? Well, one way to find out.

Bailey covered his mouth with a wet cloth, rushed into the living room, and grabbed his phone. “Hey Bailey,” Marc answered on the first ring. “Marc? Help me, please?” It was all Bailey could say because he stiffened when the doorbell rang again.

“Bailey? Bailey? Talk to me, baby,” Marc sounded worried. “Marc, can you come and get me, please. I’m scared. There’s a dead cat, and now someone is at

the door again.” Bailey was in full panic mode, and he didn’t answer Marc anymore. “Bailey? Bailey, listen to me. Whatever you do, don’t open the door. I’m on my way, baby,” Marc said.

Bailey sat in the corner of the bedroom when Marc banged on the front door. “Baby, it’s me, Marc. Open the door, please,” Marc called. It took several minutes before Marc heard the door getting unlocked, and a second later, he had a trembling Bailey in his arms.

“It’s alright; you’re safe now. I’m here, and I won’t let anything happen to you,” Marc promised in a soothing tone. When Bailey didn’t react, Marc took his face in his hands and forced Bailey to look him in the eyes. “I’m here, baby. Bailey? Look at me, open your eyes, and look at me. I’m here, and you are safe,” Marc pulled Bailey tightly to his chest as he kept repeating the words in a soothing tone.

It was then that Marc noticed the pungent smell; he lifted his head, sniffed the air, and wrinkled his nose. “Come, baby. Let’s get you out of here,” he said while he gently guided Bailey toward the front door. Bailey didn’t protest, and for that, Marc was thankful.

On his way to the car, Marc took the phone out of his jeans pocket and hit speed dial. Byron answered at the first ring because he knew that Marc was rescuing a frantic Bailey. “What’s up?” Byron asked. “I need to get Bailey home, and could you take care of a dead cat in the apartment?” Marc asked. “There really is a dead cat?” Byron questioned. “Yep, someone sent it to Bailey,” Marc replied. “I’m on my way,” Byron said.

Marc parked the car in the garage, and they went through the door that let them directly into the house. On their way to the orchard, Marc grabbed two bottles of

water. Bailey hadn’t said a word since Marc had set foot in the apartment, and he was getting worried about Bailey’s state of mind. After all, the man had been through a lot the previous weeks.

Bailey sat down under the pear tree, the one place that he seemed to find his peace and quiet. Marc held the water bottle in front of Bailey and was surprised that he took the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and took a few big gulps. “How are you feeling, baby?” Marc carefully asked.

Bailey sighed; he eyed Marc and finally said, “I don’t know how I feel. I want away from you, but at the same time, I want you to hold me and never let me go. I need solace, but I need to be with you too. Does that make any sense?”

Marc pressed his lips together because, to him, it did make sense. Bailey was confused about his feeling for him. The man had lost Brendan, his brother, when someone had placed a bomb under his car. Brendan had not only been Bailey’s brother, but he also had been Bailey’s best friend and confidant.

Then, Bailey had fallen in love with Marc, only to learn that he was an assassin. It wasn’t every day that something like that happened. Then, he learned that his father is a mafia boss, head of the notorious Delossantos Family.

Then, Bailey found out it was Marc who had murdered Fabian, Bailey’s twin brother. Then there was Robert, Bailey’s eldest brother, who wanted him dead because he was afraid that Bailey would become their father’s successor. Plus, someone blew up the flower shop and Bailey’s apartment that was above the shop. And last but not least, someone had sent him a dead cat. Yep, the man had been to hell and back, so that he had lost it wasn’t that strange.

Could it have been Alec who had sent Bailey the dead cat? Marc didn’t have an answer because the Alec that he had seen in the barn had been a total stranger. What had gotten into Alec that he had faked his own death, only to appear three years later, after Marc had met and fallen in love with Bailey. The hatred in Alec’s eyes had thrown Marc off-kilter. What had happened that Alec hated him so much? Could he aim and pull the trigger, killing Alec, if push came to shove? Marc honestly didn’t know. What he did know was that he wouldn’t let anything happen to Bailey. Marc only hoped that he didn’t have to shoot and kill his former lover.

Bailey flinched when a dove, sitting on the branch above him, took flight. It was then that Marc knew just how on edge Bailey really was. He looked up when he heard Byron’s car pulling up the driveway. Marc didn’t want to leave Bailey, but he didn’t want to discuss the dead cat with Bailey present.

“Baby, I need to talk to Byron.” Before Marc could finish, Bailey jumped to his feet. “I’m going with you,” he whispered. How could Marc say no to that? “Let’s go inside,” Marc said as he put his hand on Bailey’s lower back and guided him onto the back deck and through the sliding doors inside the house.

Byron looked in question at his brother. It was evident that he wasn’t sure if he should talk about the dead cat in front of Bailey. “You can talk about the dead cat because it doesn’t make any difference; the damage is done,” Bailey softly said. He wondered if he would ever lose that smell. Even the thought of the awfulsmelling dead cat made him nauseous again.

Byron cut a lemon in half and held it under Bailey’s nose. “Inhale the scent; it will make you feel better,” Byron said. Bailey wasn’t sure about the lemon, but he would do everything to lose that horrific odor that still seemed to attack his sinuses.

Bailey closed his eyes and sniffed the lemon. It took a couple of minutes, but then the nauseating smell disappeared. “The lemon neutralizes the nastiest odor’s, like fish. So, I hoped that it would help you neutralize the pungent smell that has nestled in your sinuses,” Byron explained. Bailey rewarded Byron with a small smile. “Thank you; it worked,” he said.

“I wonder who sent you that package,” Byron said. “I think that I know who sent it,” Bailey replied. And he wasn’t sure if he should point the finger at Alec. After all, he didn’t have any evidence that it had been Alec that had sent him the dead cat. “I think it was Alec. He really hates me,” Bailey finally said.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, baby,” Marc began carefully. Bailey frowned, but when he didn’t say anything, Marc continued. “I don’t think that it was Alec that sent you the dead cat.” “And why is that?” Bailey asked in a sharp tone. Byron glanced from Marc to Bailey, but he wisely held his tongue. Byron knew better than to come between two lovers or choosing sides. So, he went into the kitchen instead. He didn’t need anything from the kitchen, but he didn’t want to be too far from his brother and Bailey.

“Are you defending him?” Bailey whispered, and even though it was whispered, Marc could hear the anger in the man’s tone. “Baby, I’m not defending Alec. I just can’t see him doing something like that. Sending you this package is the doing of a maniac, an insane person. A psychopath,” Marc said, as he tried to reason with Bailey, but the man was getting angrier by the minute.

Bailey knew that this time, he couldn’t permit himself to leave the Blake residence because then he would be a sitting duck. That Marc took Alec’s side, let Bailey know that the man still had feelings for his ex-lover, his deranged, psychopath, ex-lover.

Chapter Forty

“I want to be alone for a while. I’ll be in the orchard, just so you know where I am,” Bailey said, turned around, and left. Byron came into the living room again and frowned. “Well, you screwed that up royally,” he said. Now it was Marc’s turn to frown. “Me? What did I do? Bailey just wants some peace and quiet, that’s all,” he replied.

“You hurt Bailey, that’s why he went into the garden, alone, even though he’s scared to death, and he doesn’t wish to be alone,” Byron said. “For such an intelligent man, you are so stupid sometimes,” a serious-looking Byron added. “I don’t understand. What did I do?” Marc scowled.

“You took Alec’s side over Bailey’s; that’s what you did. And by doing so, you hurt Bailey’s feelings big time. Imagine if the shoe were on the other food. How would you feel if Bailey defended his not-so-dead lover of six years? And if that’s not bad enough, Alec will come after Bailey just to see you suffer. You said yourself, Alec is a stranger, that you didn’t know him anymore. So, why defend the man? You would only do that if you still have feelings for Alec.” Byron’s voice softened when he said, “That’s how Bailey sees it.”

“Well damn,” Marc whispered because did he still have feelings for Alec? Marc wasn’t sure, he loved Bailey, but did he still love Alec too? “My advice? You need solace to do some serious soul searching. I know that you still are a bit shell-shocked at seeing Alec alive and well. And you might even still love him, even though the man wants you and Bailey dead.” Byron looked intently at Marc when he softly added. “When it concerns the heart, you feel what you feel. There isn’t a switch that you can turn off your feelings and be done with it.”

Marc had wanted to go after Bailey to explain that he only had feelings for him, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He had defended Alec. Why had he done that? Didn’t he want to see how insane Alec had become? Or, maybe the man always had been unstable, only he hadn’t seen it? Had he been so blinded by

love that he hadn’t seen the real Alec?

Byron had forced Marc to take a good look at himself and see the truth for what it was. Only Marc didn’t want to feel anything for Alec anymore. The man had gone too far in faking his own death and then come after Bailey, just to see Marc suffer when he would kill him. Bailey could stay in the master bedroom; if he wanted, Marc would stay at the pool house, so he could get his feelings sorted out.

He hadn’t spoken to or seen Bailey after the man had disappeared into the orchard. Byron would see to it that Bailey was kept safe. Tomorrow, Keith would be home from the hospital. And in two days, the bodyguards and Mario would be released from the hospital as well.

Marc’s thoughts wandered off to Bailey and when they had made love for the first time. It was lovemaking; it hadn’t been just sex. It had been so different from sex with Alec. Now that Marc thought of it, there never had been any kind of real romance between the sheets. Alec always had been ferocious, almost feral. That knowledge hit him hard and made him nearly do a double-take.

Marc didn’t want to compare Alec with Bailey, but somehow he didn’t seem able to avoid it. Bailey was sweet, kind, and very sexy. Bailey had an innocence surrounding him, which Marc had found irresistible. Marc could lose himself in Bailey’s big green, trusting eyes.

Now, Alec was back from the dead, and he wanted Marc and Bailey six feet under. And Marc had to it, at least to himself, that yes, he still had feelings for Alec. Marc was confused because he had never expected to see Alec alive and kicking. He had mourned the man for so long. That Alec had pulled a stunt like this told Marc how sick the man actually was.

So, why had he still feelings the man? Marc had asked himself that question over and over, but the assassin didn’t have an answer. What Marc did know was that he didn’t want to lose Bailey. Marc smiled when he ed the first time that he had seen Bailey in his flower shop. The man had intrigued him from the very beginning. Only the thought of Bailey being Fabian had held Marc back from asking the man out on a date.

The front door opened, and Marc smiled as he turned because he expected Bailey; his smile disappeared when he saw Alec standing in the doorway. “Thank you for inviting me, darling,” Alec said, in a tone that Marc always had found seductive and sexy. However, now that same tone didn’t sound seductive and sexy at all anymore.

Marc just stared at Alec, waiting for the man to reveal why he was at the pool house. “What? Aren’t you happy that I’m not dead after all?” Alec said, and he seemed genuinely surprised by the lack of Marc’s enthusiasm. “Who are you? I don’t know you anymore. You’re not the Alec that I knew and loved. What happened? What changed that you hate me so much? I assume that you loved me before you came to hate me?” Marc questioned because he needed answers.

“I have always loved you, Marc, darling,” Alec paused and sighed dramatically. Marc didn’t say a word; he just kept eying his former lover. Alec moved closer until he was invading Marc’s personal space. He reached out and caressed Marc’s cheek. Marc just stood there, not really knowing what to do or how to react without irritating the man.

Marc knew that Alec’s feelings of, well, love, if one could call it that, could turn into a rage in mere seconds. Psychopaths were good at that. Marc didn’t have a weapon at hand because he had never expected Alec at the pool house.

“Oh, just so you know, Shauna is out on bail. Your father paid an ungodly amount of money because he couldn’t bear to see her behind bars. He is convinced that his little princess is innocent and that you are the scumbag who is framing her,” Alec said, smiling.

Marc didn’t smile; he wanted to know what Alec wanted from him because the man was up to something of that Marc was sure. “What is it that you want?” Marc said, and he had difficulty keeping his voice neutral. It was then that he knew that he didn’t have feelings for Alec. Hell, he didn’t even like the guy who stood in front of him. He was done with Alec Woods.

Now, Marc needed to keep Alec with him in the pool house for as long as possible. He didn’t want Alec to go after Bailey. “Are you ever going to tell me why you faked your death?” Marc began because he really was curious about the reason.

Marc saw, to his astonishment, that Alec smiled, and it was an evil one. What the hell? “You really don’t know, do you?” Alec whispered, and the smile, that evil grin from before, had disappeared. The man’s expression had turned into pure evil, which gave Marc almost the shivers, almost.

“Well, are you going to tell me?” Marc drawled. “Sit,” Alec commanded. Marc kept standing and didn’t move; he just looked at his former lover, his expression neutral. “Sit, please?” Alec said in a normal tone. Marc was surprised that the game they played so often still worked. If Alec wanted something badly, he always had to use the word, please. So, the man hadn’t forgotten, which was good.

Marc sat down in the chair by the window and gave Alec a questioning look. “Well? I’m waiting,” he said. Alec, once again, sighed dramatically. “Since you really don’t seem to know what you did to me, I will enlighten you.” Alec paused, then he said in an almost inhumane voice, “You shot and killed my brother.”

The silence that filled the room was deafening. Marc frowned because this was news to him; he wasn’t aware that Alec had a brother. No, Alec didn’t have a brother. “How is that possible? You don’t have a brother, Alec,” Marc replied in a conversational tone. “Of course I had a brother, and you put him in his grave, bastard,” Alec growled.

“Alec, don’t use that tone when you speak to me,” Marc warned. And it had the effect that Marc hoped it would have. He always said those exact words in the exact same tone he used now, when he needed to control Alec, to protect the man from himself. Sometimes, Alec had been a drama princess, and he often got a full-blown panic attack in situations he had created.

Marc was stunned that using those particular words in a particular tone still affected Alec. “Well, it’s the truth. You killed Charlie, and I can never forgive you for that. It means that you have to die, but before I kill you, I will let you watch when I kill Bailey,” Alec said. Marc looked into Alec’s eyes and didn’t see any emotion. Alec’s eyes were, well, dead. It was like the man had lost his soul or something. How had he been so blind that he hadn’t noticed? Like the time when he had bought Alec a puppy. The man had been so happy. However, a few weeks later, after Marc returned from an assignment, the puppy was gone.

Marc had asked Alec what had happened and where the puppy was now. Alec had answered that the puppy had died suddenly and that he had buried him in the garden. It was the same with the second puppy. Now, as he looked back, Marc connected the dots. Psychopaths constantly tortured and killed animals. That’s how it always started; when a child began to hurt animals, you could bet that

they ended up a psychopath.

In this case, Marc didn’t know much about Alec’s family because he had never even met them. Now that he thought about it, had he been so blasé and selfcentered? Marc had to it that Alec had never introduced him to his family and that he, Marc, hadn’t cared. He had never asked after Alec’s parents or if the man had siblings. So, Marc automatically assumed that Alec didn’t have any family. Stupid, so stupid!

Chapter Forty One

Bailey yawned, stretched, and shook his head. Had he actually fallen asleep? Well, it seemed that way. He rose to his feet and was on his way to the house when he saw movement in the pool house. Bailey didn’t want to know if Marc was there, but the curiosity prevailed, and he slowly neared the pool house.

He crept to the window and listened. That was the voice of Marc and someone else. The voice sounded familiar, but Bailey couldn’t place it. The voices were muffled, so Bailey couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then he realized, with a shock, that he knew that voice. It was Alec!

It was all Bailey could do not to storm inside and confront the psychopath with what he had done. Bailey’s heart was hammering in his chest, and breathing became difficult. He crept even closer and saw that the next window was open. So, he carefully crept to the other window and listened.

“I always loved it when you talked to me like that.” Alec’s voice. “I .” Marc’s voice. “Did you really mourn me? Did you miss me and wished that I was still alive?” Alec’s voice. “Yes.” Marc’s voice. Bailey’s stomach turned at hearing Marc speak the words. The bastard still was in love with that psychopath. Christ, how could he have been so stupid? Bailey carefully retreated, and when he was far enough from the pool house, he ran.

“Whoa, not so fast. What happened that you ran like you’d seen the devil,” Byron said as he kept his hands on Bailey’s shoulders. “Yeah, well, I did see the devil. And if you want to know, he’s at the pool house right now,” Bailey seethed. “Okay, what happened, and who is at the pool house besides Marc because he’s not the devil,” Byron said, and the moment he spoke the words, he paled. “Shit!” “Yeah, shit!” Bailey echoed. “Is Alec with him?” Byron questioned. “Yep, the one and only,” Bailey snapped.

Byron stared intently at Bailey when he said, “You go back to the house, stay there and wait for me. Can you do that?” Bailey frowned but nodded. “Lucas should be there right now; tell him that Alec is on the premises.” Byron was still looking intently at Bailey when he added in a whisper, “Marc is in danger because Alec hates him. And for what it’s worth, my brother loves you, not Alec. If he had feelings for that man, they are gone now.”

“How do you know?” Bailey whispered, could he hope again? He wished that Byron was right; he prayed that Byron was right. “I know my brother, and I see the way he looks at you. That man is smitten and in love. Trust me. Now, go and tell Lucas what’s going on at the pool house,” Byron urged while he gently pushed Bailey in the direction of the house.

Bailey ran into the house and called for Lucas, who immediately answered from the other room. “Where’s the fire, Bailey?” Lucas said, smiling, but his smile disappeared when he saw Bailey’s pale face. “What’s wrong, Bailey?” “Alec is at the pool house, and Marc is with him. Byron is there already. He told me to inform you,” Bailey said.

“God damn. You stay here where it’s safe,” Lucas commanded as he rushed up the stairs, and a moment later, he was back carrying his rifle. “Oh, hell. Are you going to shoot Alec?” Bailey questioned, but Lucas had already disappeared through the sliding doors.

Bailey sighed; he didn’t know what to do; should he go after Lucas and help? Or, should he stay at the house? Was Marc really in danger? Or would he forgive Alec and? No! He wouldn’t go there. The thought was too painful; after all, Alec was one of the people responsible for Brendan’s death. Surely Marc wouldn’t buy anything that Alec said? Bailey shook his head because he wasn’t entirely convinced.

Bailey decided to go after Lucas because he needed to know if Marc would choose Alec’s side again. His stomach was in knots, but Bailey ignored the nauseousness, and ran through the sliding doors onto the back deck, through the garden, turned to the left, and skidded to a halt when the pool house came into sight.

Bailey looked around, but he didn’t see Byron, nor did he see Lucas. He crept toward the open window, hoping to hear Marc and Alec talk. There was no movement inside the pool house. Bailey didn’t hear voices either. Were they gone? Surely Marc wouldn’t have left with Alec? Would he?

Suddenly Lucas stood behind Bailey, making him jump. “What are you doing here? I told you to stay home where you’re safe,” Lucas onished. Both men turned around when they heard footsteps; someone was running toward them. Lucas immediately put Bailey behind him, gun at the ready.

To Bailey’s relief, he saw Marc coming toward them. Lucas secured the gun and stowed it away again. “He got away,” Marc panted. “Who got away?” Lucas questioned. “Alec, got away, who else,” Byron said from behind Marc. “How could he escape?” Bailey snapped. Or did you let him escape? He kept that thought to himself.

Marc eyed Bailey strangely. “Well, he had a gun, and I didn’t,” Marc softly said, not breaking eye with Bailey, who tried to read Marc but failed miserably. “Alec breached security, and I want to know how he did that,” Marc addressed Lucas.

“I’ll look into it,” a grim-looking Lucas replied. Bailey knew that the man wasn’t happy with the fact that Alec had reached the pool house without so much as triggering at least one alarm. Had Marc helped Alec access the premises without

being noticed because he wanted to talk to the man, alone? Marc would have done so only if he still had strong feelings for Alec.

Bailey was confused. It was hard to comprehend that Alec was back in Marc’s life again. Why hadn’t Alec just stayed dead? It would have been better for everyone. The moment the thought occurred, Bailey felt guilty. Just because he was jealous of Alec didn’t mean that he wished him dead. On the other hand, the man was complicit in the death of Brendan.

“Can I talk to you in private?” Marc said. Bailey didn’t know if he wanted to hear what Marc had to say. “Please?” Marc softly added. Bailey reluctantly agreed. They went into the orchard because Marc knew that Bailey would feel comfortable between the fruit trees.

Bailey stopped in front of the pear tree and turned to face Marc, who was shocked by the hurt he saw in Bailey’s beautiful big green eyes. Eyes so innocent and so sad. “Speak,” Bailey whispered. Marc wanted to come closer, but Bailey kept his distance, so Marc stayed where he was. “Bailey, baby, you must have so many questions,” Marc said.

Bailey decided then and there that he wouldn’t beat around the bush. “Do you still love Alec?” “No, not anymore. I mourned him for a long time, that’s true. And when he stood in front of me in that barn, I was convinced that I still had feelings for the man. I had a lot of time to think things through, and at the end, all I wanted was to be with you,” Marc said. The former assassin wasn’t convinced; if he could have shot Alec right then and there, and that thought had worried him. Now, after he had time to think and put things into perspective, Marc knew that if push came to shove, he would shoot Alec to protect Bailey.

“What are you going to do if he comes after you, or me for that matter. Alec took

part in placing the car bomb that killed my brother,” Bailey said in a choked-up voice. Marc rubbed his face because he had expected this question. Would he be able to shoot Alec? The answer was yes, but he wouldn’t be able to kill him.

Marc considered Bailey for a couple of minutes, then he spoke in a soft yet firm voice. “I will protect you from everyone who wants to hurt you. If that means that I have to shoot Alec, then so be it.” “Would you kill him?” Bailey questioned. Marc sighed; he finally said in a determined voice, “I would, yes. But only if I don’t have another choice. If it’s up to me, then Alec will spend the rest of his life behind bars.” And that was the truth.

“There’s something else that you need to know.” Marc paused, then he said while observing Bailey intently, “My sister, Shauna, she was released on bail.” Bailey paled because he knew how dangerous Shauna was.

“So,” he said finally, “Did you help Alec enter the premises and how to avoid the alarm systems?” Was it fair to ask Marc? Bailey didn’t know, and right now, he didn’t care. All he knew was that he doubted Marc’s feelings for him, and he wasn’t sure about Marc’s feelings for Alec.

“No, I did not help Alec with anything. I was stunned to all of a sudden see him standing in the pool house. The man is unstable and delusional, and that makes him very dangerous,” Marc said. “Plus, he isn’t the Alec that I knew and loved anymore. It could have been a stranger standing in the pool house,” he added.

Chapter Forty Two

Both men looked up at hearing footsteps, signaling that several persons came their way. Marc moved in front of Bailey, but then, a familiar voice said, “Bailey, my son.” It was Mario Delossantos. With him were Dan, Dennis, and Brad. Before Bailey knew what he was doing, he flew into his father’s arms.

“Thank God that you’re okay, my son,” Mario whispered. Marc greeted the three bodyguards, and then he shook hands with the mob boss. “I thought that you had to stay in the hospital for at least another day,” Marc said. Mario smiled. “When I want to leave, no one can stop me,” he replied. “I suppose so,” Marc chuckled.

“So, Alec is still at large, and your lunatic sister is out on bail. I wonder how good old Marcus pulled that off,” Mario said. “What do you mean?” Bailey questioned because, as of now, he wanted to know everything that concerned his safety and Brendan’s murderers.

“No, I’m not too fragile to hear all the details of God knows what, so don’t start to patronize me,” Bailey said. Mario nodded his approval. Bailey could tell that Marc didn’t like it, well, tough luck this was about him, and it was time to step up and do his part. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore, all the time. It’s not healthy.” Bailey said. “I’m proud of you, my son,” Mario said as he squeezed Bailey’s shoulder.

“I have to make a few phone calls so, I’ll see you later,” Mario said. Bailey noticed that Brad and Dan didn’t follow their boss. “They stay here for protection,” Mario explained at seeing Bailey’s questioning look. “Thank you,” Bailey said politely. Mario waved his hand in acknowledgment as he walked toward the house.

Bailey eyed Marc; he said, “I know that you don’t like it, but this is my call and

no one else’s.” Marc pressed his lips together; he said, “You are perfectly right. And I think that you can defend yourself, but I will worry about you all the time because I love you so much.”

Bailey was happy to hear the words, but he still had trouble believing that Marc was done with Alec. After all, they’d been together for so many years. A thought hit Bailey; he frowned. “What was it that Alec wanted from you? I’m sure that he didn’t come to the pool house to chat about the good ol’ days,” Bailey said.

“No, he didn’t want to talk about our past. He came to tell me why he hated me so much,” Marc paused. Bailey waited patiently for Marc to continue, which the man finally did after several minutes. “He said that he hated me because I had shot and killed his brother,” Marc whispered. Bailey saw the pain in the man’s eyes, and he knew why. Marc had shot and killed Fabian, Bailey’s brother. Bailey had been angry about that until Marc had told him how rotten the man had been.

They sat side by side for a long time without talking, lost in their thoughts. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I can imagine how difficult it must be for you to tell me this,” Bailey spoke in a soft, soothing voice. He knew that Marc was afraid that Bailey would question him again about killing Fabian. Well, Bailey didn’t want to talk about him. His twin brother had been rotten to the core, and at least, now, he couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

Marc filled Brad and Dan in on what had happened the previous hours. “Lucas is checking the cameras, and he will put more security into place,” Marc said. Both bodyguards nodded and told Marc that they were ready to assist Lucas.

Marc’s phone rang, and he frowned when he saw Byron’s number. “What’s up?” Marc said as he answered the call. “A lot of things. For starters, Robert and

Arnulfo somehow got released on bail. Don’t ask me how they pull that stunt; I’m just the messenger. I want you and Bailey in the house,” Byron said. Marc agreed and rose to his feet; then, he informed Bailey and Brad, and Dan.

“Did you find out how Alec could reach the pool house without triggering so much as one alarm because that shouldn’t have been possible,” Marc questioned Lucas, who just had ed them in the living room. “No, not yet; I can’t find anything wrong with the cameras or the motion sensors. I did, however, discover some spots that aren’t covered by either cameras or motion sensors,” Lucas said.

Then Lucas explained about the weak spots and that he would fix them. Dan offered his help because he knew a lot about installing cameras and motion sensors. And, what was more important, to avoid dead spots, if there was enough equipment to work with. In this case, there was more than enough equipment to work with.

Bailey sighed; he wanted it to end so that he could resume his everyday life again. The construction company that Bailey had hired to rebuild the shop and his apartment was doing a very good job. A few more weeks, and Bailey could reopen the Flower Hut again. He only hoped that he still had customers left; if not, well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it—no need to worry now because he had other things to worry about.

Bailey turned to Marc. “What are you going to do now that Shauna, Arnulfo, and my dear brother Robert, are out on bail?” “We will hunt and kill them, of course,” said Mario before Marc could answer. Marc nodded in agreement. “I agree because we need to get to them before they get to us,” the former assassin replied coolie.

Bailey didn’t say anything; he had his answer, even though he didn’t like it.

Well, he shouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to hear the answer. He knew that his father, Marc, and the rest didn’t have another choice than to hunt for the insane four. It was them or them.

Bailey turned to Mario, his father. Even though he didn’t know the man that long, he already felt the connection between them. “I’m sorry that Robert spun out of control,” he softly said as he took the seat beside Mario.

The mob boss sighed and said, “I’m sorry too.” It looked like Mario wanted to add something, but he didn’t. Bailey saw the pain in the man’s eyes. “I know that Robert is important to you.” “Was,” said Mario. “He was important, not anymore. He tried to kill you, his own brother, and that’s not allowed. We don’t go after family to murder them. We punish, sure, but we don’t kill family,” Mario said.

Bailey didn’t respond because what could he say? Could he say that he understood that his brother wanted him dead? Surely not. Mario had told them that it wasn’t him who had post bail for Robert and Arnulfo. And Bailey wondered who had paid such a tremendous amount of money.

“We need to find out who it was that post bail for Robert and Arnulfo,” said Bailey. “Byron is already on it,” Marc said, and Bailey heard the pride in Marc’s voice. Yes, the man definitely was very proud of his younger sibling.

“Well, that was easy,” said Byron as he walked into the living room. “Speak of the devil,” Mario chuckled. Byron looked at everyone in the room when he said, “It was Marcus Blake who posted bail for Robert and Arnulfo.” “That damn bastard,” Marc growled.

“Your father posted bail for Robert and that psychopath Arnulfo? But, why?” Bailey didn’t understand. “Well, my father hates me, obviously, and he adores Shauna,” Marc said, and Bailey noticed that Marc wasn’t emotional about it. “My father and I, well, we don’t see eye-to-eye. He hates me because I’m gay. He hates me even more because he can’t prevent me from taking over Blake Industries when he dies,” Marc explained.

“How is that?” Bailey questioned. Marc smiled ruefully; he said, “It’s complicated, but it comes down to this, that the moment my father disinherits me, he loses control over Blake Industries, and everything will become mine. The estate, the company, and so on. It’s a special clause that my grandfather put into his will. At that time, no one understood; now they do.”

“So, your father is bound to the clause that’s in your grandfather’s will?” Bailey said. Marc nodded and smiled. “There’s only one problem,” Marc paused, then he said, “I don’t want the company.” “Why not?” “Because I’m not a businessman, plus I like the way things are now,” Marc answered.

“Everything alright here?” Marc asked his brother, who was sitting behind his computer. It was almost midnight, and Marc wanted to know if his brother was okay. “Everything is fine,” Byron replied without looking up. “Don’t work too long; you need to be at Captain Jack’s tomorrow,” Marc informed Byron. “I won’t. Just another hour or so, then I’m off to bed too,” Byron assured Marc.

Chapter Forty Three

They had breakfast, and Marc told Bailey that he would work in his study for a while. Bailey didn’t mind because he wanted to relax in the orchard without anyone watching him. So, he didn’t tell Marc what he was planning on doing.

“Did you see Bailey?” Marc asked Keith when he had set the table for lunch. Marc felt panic rising when no one had seen Bailey. “I guess that he is in the orchard,” said Lucas, who walked into the room. “Why would he go there without telling anyone?” Marc questioned.

“Maybe he was tired of being guarded all the time. I mean, the man doesn’t have a minute to himself, ever since the three idiots are out on bail, and let’s not forget Alec,” said Keith. The former FBI agent tried to sound relaxed, but Marc saw the tension in Keith’s body posture. “I’ll go and get him,” Marc said.

******

“What the hell?” Bailey said, but he didn’t get the chance to finish what he wanted to say. It happened so fast that Bailey didn’t even see the fist coming his way. He felt a sharp pain as he fell to the ground. Bailey felt the first two or three kicks into his stomach; then, he felt nothing.

******

Marc began to worry when he didn’t see Bailey in his usual spot, under the pear tree. He called and called but got no response. Marc took his phone and his speed dial. “What’s up?” Keith asked, and Marc noticed the panic in the man’s tone. “Bailey isn’t here. He should be sitting under the pear tree, but he’s not

here,” Marc nearly yelled.

“We’re on our way,” Keith said and rang off. A moment later, Keith, Mario, Dan, Brad, Dennis, and Lucas arrived at the orchard. The three bodyguards immediately started investigating their surroundings. “Shit. Marc?” It was Dan; he had found a small pool of blood not far from the pear tree. “I don’t get it. What the hell happened with Bailey? God dammed, he should be safe on the premises,” Marc cursed.

Marc felt so many emotions that it hit him hard. He needed to get Bailey back, alive and in one piece. “The pool house. They must be in the pool house,” Marc growled. The former assassin was stopped by Lucas when he was about to run to the pool house to get Bailey.

“Keith? Would you go to the pool house and see if Bailey is there? And how many persons are with him?” Keith nodded. “We need a plan because we don’t even know if Bailey is at the pool house or how many people are with him,” Lucas urged Marc.

“You’re not clear-headed right now because it’s very personal for you. But you need to keep your cool, buddy,” Lucas softly said. Marc knew that his friend was right, so he nodded, but he didn’t like it.

“Let’s go to the house and check the cameras,” Lucas said as he rushed Marc toward the back deck and into the house. They went into the basement, and Lucas began to tap on the keyboard. Lucas pulled up the footage, and a few minutes later, Marc saw to his horror that Arnulfo and Alec sneaked up from behind and overpowered Bailey. It was Arnulfo who hit Bailey the first time, and then Alec took over.

Marc growled when he saw Bailey going down after the first punch. It was getting worse, though, because even though Bailey was down, Alec kept kicking him over and over again. Bailey was kicked in the stomach, his back, and even in his face and on his head while lying motionless on the ground.

Marc saw red, and it was all that Lucas could do not to let Marc go. “We wait until Keith gets back,” Lucas commanded while he held Marc in a tight grip. Marc nodded because he knew that Lucas was right. He hadn’t been thinking, but who could blame him? Bailey’s life was in danger, and Marc had the feeling that Alec would kill Bailey, one way or another. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let that happen.

Keith was back and told the rest about what he had discovered. He looked at Marc and said, “You won’t like it.” “Well, you won’t like this either,” Marc said as he motioned for Keith to come closer to the computer screen. As expected, Keith cursed up a blue streak. The man was livid, and no wonder because he didn’t only guard Bailey, but they had become friends.

“I didn’t see Bailey in the pool house, but that doesn’t mean that he isn’t there. I saw Robert, Arnulfo, Shauna, and Alec. They were laughing; it seemed that they had fun. Now I know why they had so much fun,” Keith growled.

“Well, we will wipe the smiles from their faces,” Dan said, and Marc could see that he, too, was full of rage. “We need a plan before we attack because they know that we will come for Bailey. Then, there’s still the question of how they were able to avoid the cameras and motion sensors. We adjusted everything yesterday, so, how?” Dan said, his expression grim.

Dan was good at what he did so that Robert and the rest had found a way to avoid the security systems didn’t sit well with him. Marc looked thoughtful. Was it possible that Alec had checked the area and that way had managed to get the layout of the security system? Marc hoped that that wasn’t the case.

He should, at least, have tried to stop Alec from leaving the pool house after his surprise visit. Damn and double damn! If only he had known what he knew now, namely that it was Bailey that he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with. How had he ever doubted his feelings for Bailey? Guilt like he had never known before slithered inside his soul, and it made him feel nauseous.

Lucas came up with a solid plan within ten minutes; yes, the man was that good. To Marc, it had seemed like forever, but finally, they would take action, free Bailey, and, if necessary, kill everyone in the pool house.

Marc was determined to end Alec’s life because that bastard wouldn’t get the chance to come after Bailey ever again. Arnulfo had to die, too, because he was a psychopath of the worst kind. Robert? Well, that was up to Mario; after all, it was his son. Last but not least, Shauna, Marc had never killed a woman, and he wouldn’t start now. However, he would find a way to get her away from society because she was too dangerous.

Lucas had left the room, and a minute later, he returned, carrying his rifle. Marc went to get his rifle too. He hadn’t expected to use it ever again; he had promised Bailey that he wouldn’t take assignments anymore. And Marc planned on keeping his promise.

Dan, Brad, and Dennis checked their weapons, and so did Mario and Keith. “Ready?” Marc asked, eyeing each and every one. When they all nodded, Marc led the way to the pool house.

Before they reached the pool house, they parted, getting in position. Lucas, Keith, and Brad would take their positions, ready to fire. Mario and Marc would try to enter the pool house from the front. Dan and Dennis would guard the back of the pool house; they wouldn’t let anyone escape.

Marc and Mario managed to sneak to the pool house and under the window without being discovered. “I wonder when they will attack,” said a voice from inside the house. Marc knew this voice very well; it was Alec. “They will come for this little faggot here,” said another voice. That was Shauna’s voice, and it made Marc tremble with rage.

“Easy, Marc. Control yourself,” Mario urged. It was whispered, but Marc had understood. What a brilliant idea to get the layout of the security and shock Marc with a surprise visit,” the voice chuckled. That was Robert, the rat bastard.

“He’s mine,” Mario growled. Marc nodded because he wanted Alec, wanted the man to pay for what he had done to Bailey. Marc didn’t care anymore that Alec had lied to him and staged his death. That the idiot had kidnapped and beaten Bailey was too much.

They all wore ear equipment, and Keith, Brad, and Lucas would act on Marc’s command. The three men were excellent shooters and wouldn’t miss their targets. Suddenly it was quiet in the pool house, and Marc knew that they were discovered. Marc looked at Mario, who nodded. Marc rose to his feet and kicked in the front door.

“Go for it!” Marc said, and a moment later, shots were fired. Arnulfo was down, and Shauna was hit in the shoulder and her leg; she wouldn’t go anywhere any

time soon, except straight to jail.

Robert’s eyes were huge, and it was obvious that he hadn’t expected to see his father up and about. The man pointed a gun at his son, but Robert didn’t seem afraid because he knew his father would never kill his own flesh and blood.

“I won’t kill you, but there are three sharpshooters active, and they won’t hesitate to kill you,” Mario said. Robert paled, and he looked resigned. Marc had Alec in a chokehold. “Where is Bailey,” he growled. Alec made noise but didn’t answer. “Let him breathe so that he can answer you,” Mario said.

Marc loosened his hold just a bit, so the bastard could get some air, not that he deserved it, but Marc needed answers. Bailey was severely beaten, and the man needed medical attention, like yesterday.

“I won’t tell you, my dear,” Alec managed to croak out; he even tried to laugh. “Wrong answer,” Marc said through gritted teeth. He knew that he needed to stay focused, but damn, it was hard. Mario had, in the meantime, taken Robert’s weapon and had conjured Tie Wraps from God knows where to bind Robert’s hands on his back. “Not so tight, old man, you’re hurting me,” Robert seethed. Mario didn’t even look at him.

The mob boss looked pleased when Marc changed his grip on Alec. He now held Alec by the throat and punched him hard in the face with his fist. Alec cried out in pain and surprise. Then he smiled and said, to Marc’s horror, “Kiss me. I know that you want it, honey.”

To say that Marc was disgusted was an understatement. “You are a lunatic, a

psychopath,” Marc growled. It was evident that Alec hadn’t expected Marc to react like that; his expression said it all. “It’s that little shit, isn’t it?” Alec suddenly snared.

“I love Bailey, if that’s what you mean,” Marc replied in a cold voice. “And you’re going to tell me where he is and pray that he’s still alive, if not.” Marc didn’t need to finish because he saw in Alec’s eyes that the man knew what was awaiting him in case of Bailey’s death.

Marc knew that time was running out for Bailey because he had seen how badly they had beaten him. In front of him stood a smiling Alec, blood was dripping alongside his mouth, but the man didn’t seem to notice.

From the corner of his eyes, Marc saw Robert making a move toward Mario. Robert somehow had managed to free himself and jumped to his feet, but before he reached Mario, a shot was fired, and Robert went down. He lay on the floor, eyes open, which let Marc know that the man was dead. “I warned him,” was all that Mario said, but Marc saw the pain in the mob boss’ eyes.

Now the only one that was left was Alec, and still, the man kept smiling; he said, “You will never find that little piece of shit. I made sure of that.” Dan and Dennis had already started the search for Bailey. Marc suspected that Bailey was near because they hadn’t had time to transport him to another place. Well, at least Marc hoped so.

Lucas came into the pool house and glanced around before he gave Alec all of his attention. “So, you don’t want to tell us where Bailey is?” Lucas drawled as he glanced at Marc, who nodded at Lucas. “He’s all yours. Do with him as you please,” Marc said. “If you kill me, then you will never find that little piece of shit,” Alec threatened. Marc ignored his former lover and left the pool house.

“I can’t believe it,” Marc whispered; he was horrified. “I didn’t even know that there was an old well on the premises,” he added. “Thank God that it’s dry,” Keith whispered. “Yes,” Marc replied. “I have him,” Dan yelled. They had lowered Dan into the old well to retrieve Bailey. Keith had already called the paramedics, and Marc could hear the sirens.

Chapter Forty Four

“How is he? Any change?” Marc looked up to face Byron. “No,” was all he said. Byron took a second chair and sat down beside his brother. Ten days had ed since Bailey was nearly beaten to death by Alec.

The doctor had told Marc that Bailey had suffered severe head trauma because Alec had kicked him several times in the head. After he was hospitalized, Bailey had suffered from a brain hemorrhage. The doctors had acted quickly, and because of that, Bailey stood a chance of a full recovery. After that, the doctors had put him in an induced coma.

A few of Bailey’s ribs were broken, and his spine was damaged as well. The doctors had told Marc that they couldn’t possibly tell what Bailey’s condition would be when he woke up. “Two more days, and then they will wake him up,” Marc softly informed Byron. Byron didn’t reply; instead, he squeezed his brother’s shoulder in silent .

Mario was visiting his son as much as possible. The mob boss had arranged that the dead bodies in the pool house had disappeared. The pool house itself was cleaned from top to bottom; not even the best forensics would find traces of blood. Lucas had shot Alec point blank because the man had gone too far. Alec was a psychopath, no doubt about that, which had made it easy to kill him. Shauna was the only one who had survived the killing, and Mario had put her into an asylum for the mentally ill. Shauna would never return to society ever again.

Marc had been at the hospital since Bailey was itted. He even slept in the same room, and had spent an ungodly amount of money, so Bailey had his own private room.

Mario, his three bodyguards, Keith and Byron, came and went. Marc had lost track of time, but he didn’t care. The only thing that matters was Bailey and that the man would recover so he could take him home.

Marcus Blake Senior had called Marc to asked about Shauna. Marc had told him that he didn’t know where she was and that he didn’t care either, then he had abruptly ended the call. Marcus had called Marc twice, but Marc had refused to take the call; after that, Marcus hadn’t called again. Marc suspected that his father would hire the best private investigators to find Shauna. Well, good luck with that.

Doctor Michael Reynolds entered the room and smiled warmly at Marc; then, he explained the procedure to wake up Bailey. Marc nodded, but all he could think of was Bailey and that he wanted to see the man that he loved more than everything else, awake and smiling.

“It was dark when Marc opened his eyes; Bailey’s restlessness had woken him. Marc had fallen asleep, like so many nights, sitting on his chair and holding Bailey’s hand. “Bailey? Baby?” Marc whispered, but he got no answer. So, Marc pressed the red button, and within minutes a nurse appeared.

“Is he waking up?” Marc asked. The nurse didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “I’ll call Doctor Reynolds,” and gone she was. Marc didn’t know how much time had ed when the door opened again, and Doctor Michael Reynolds entered the room.

He immediately checked Bailey’s vitals and the equipment. Finally, he glanced at Marc and smiled. “Your partner is waking up nice and slow. There’s a possibility that he is afraid, when he wakes, or confused, even,” Doctor Reynolds said. “Is there something I can do?” Marc questioned because he

would move heaven and earth for the love of his life.

“You can be there for Bailey when he panics and show your love for him when he lashes out at you for no reason,” Doctor Michael Reynolds replied. Michael Reynolds had explained everything already to Marc what to expect after Bailey woke from his medically induced coma. Marc nodded; he said, “I will do whatever it takes to make things as easy as possible for Bailey. He’s been through enough, and now it’s his time to enjoy life again.”

Doctor Michael smiled. “I know that you will,” he said. The doctor stayed for a while to monitor Bailey’s progress in waking up. It all went as planned, and the following day Bailey opened his eyes. The doctors had shaved his head when they performed an emergency operation because of the brain hemorrhage Bailey had suffered.

There was a soft knock, and this time it was Doctor Bernard Johnson who came to check on Bailey. “How is my favorite patient today?” the doctor smiled. “Well, Bailey opened his eyes for a minute,” Marc informed the doctor. “Did he talk, or move his feet, or his hands?” Doctor Bernard asked while he checked Bailey’s vitals.

Marc shook his head. “No, he just opened his eyes, and then he closed them again; he didn’t even see me sitting here,” he said, and before the doctor could reply, Marc added, “Does that mean anything?” And he couldn’t prevent the fear in his voice. “No, it doesn’t mean anything. We need to be patient. It’s up to Bailey now to wake up, so we can examine him. Doctor Reynolds did explain to you what to expect when Bailey wakes up?” Doctor Bernard inquired. “Yes, he did,” Marc replied. They talked for a while longer, and then the doctor left. The moment Bailey even stirred, Marc would press the button.

When Marc opened his eyes, it was daylight. He shot bolt upright and nearly fell from the chair. He looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was nearly nine AM. Bailey looked so small and so vulnerable. Marc felt so helpless because there was not much that he could do. The ball was in Bailey’s corner, and Marc didn’t know if Bailey had enough willpower to fight his way back to the living.

Bailey had been through so much in such a short amount of time, and even though Bailey didn’t know it, it could influence the will to live, the will to go on. Marc hoped and prayed that Bailey loved him enough to fight for their happiness, their future.

The day went by, and Marc had visits from Byron, Keith, and of course, Mario. Everyone had told him to be patient and that Bailey loved him enough to fight his way back. The doctors had reduced the medication that kept Bailey into a deep sleep. It was ten PM, and Marc sat in his chair beside Bailey’s bed, holding the man’s hand, as he had done every day since Bailey was itted. Marc looked up when he felt movement. Had Bailey just squeezed his hand?

Yes, Marc felt Bailey lightly squeezing his hand; he hadn’t imagined it. Marc didn’t hesitate but immediately pushed the red button. There was a soft knock, and a second later, Doctor Reynolds stepped into the room.

“Bailey squeezed my hand twice,” Marc informed the doctor. Doctor Reynolds frowned. “That’s good, now; let’s see if he can repeat that for me,” the doctor softly said as he took Bailey’s hand and gently squeezed it. Marc saw it the minute that Bailey moved his hand and squeezed the doctor’s hand. Marc’s heart was beating so fast that the former assassin expected it to burst out of his chest any minute.

Doctor Reynolds looked at Marc; he smiled and said, “Bailey is showing all the

signs that he’s waking up.” Marc was so relieved that he wasn’t able to speak. The day ed, and it was nearly midnight when Marc finally closed his eyes. Doctor Reynolds had assured Marc that Bailey needed to sleep through the night because they would start with several tests the following day.

******

“How are you feeling, baby?” Marc softly asked. Two weeks after waking up from the medically induced coma, and Bailey was released from the hospital, now he finally was home. “I’m fine, just tired,” Bailey answered. Bailey was quiet, too quiet since he was released from the hospital, and that worried Marc.

They sat under the pear tree, which was Bailey’s favorite spot. “Are they all dead? Did you kill them?” Bailey asked; he didn’t look at Marc, but he stared in the direction of the pool house, which was gone now. Marc had ordered to tear the place down, and he didn’t know what would come in its place because that was up to Bailey. However, Bailey hadn’t talked about what he wanted, and Marc had decided not to push the issue. And if Bailey would never decide on the replacement for the pool house, that would be alright too.

“Lunch is ready,” Byron said, smiling, as he entered the orchard. Bailey looked up, pressed his lips together, and said in an apologetic voice. “I’m sorry, Byron, but I’m not hungry. “I expected that you would say that, so I brought lunch for two,” Byron said as he left, only to return with a picnic basket. He put the basket in front of Marc, and then he left.

“Chicken sandwiches with pesto,” Marc said as he looked at Bailey, “That’s your favorite,” he added. Marc was pleased that he managed to feed Bailey a sandwich and some pieces of melon. Satisfied that Bailey had eaten something, Marc took what was left of the food and placed it back in the picnic basket.

“The physical therapist will be here in an hour. Do you want to rest until then?” Marc asked because he saw the dark circles under Bailey’s eyes. Bailey hadn’t had one decent night of sleep ever since he had woken from the medically induced coma. Marc was worried because Bailey was still recovering from the head trauma he had suffered. It was good that the man was dead because Marc would have gone after him and kill him for what he had done to Bailey.

Marc still had trouble believing that Alec, his sweet and kind Alec, had gone over the edge like that. It was hard to comprehend that Alec always had been a psychopath, and he hadn’t noticed. Had he been that much in love with the man that simply had closed his eyes for what had been obvious?

Marc shook his head. No, he hadn’t closed his eyes because Alec had always acted like a normal, sane human being. Marc had tried to explain how rotten Alec’s brother had been, but he hadn’t listened.

“Yes, I need rest before Hector arrives,” Bailey said. “Were where you just now?” Bailey questioned when Marc didn’t immediately respond. Marc blinked, “I’m sorry. What?” he said. “You were miles away. I told you that, yes, I want to rest before Hector gets here,” Bailey repeated. Marc didn’t share his thoughts with Bailey because he knew that the man wouldn’t understand, and he couldn’t blame him.

Alec had beaten Bailey to an inch of his life, and he would have killed him if Marc and the rest hadn’t arrived in time. Bailey reached for Marc. “Help me up?” he said, as he tried to smile but failed miserably. “Sure, baby,” Marc softly replied as he took Bailey’s hand and helped him to his feet.

With Marc’s help, Bailey turned, and then Marc lowered him into his wheelchair. Bailey had not only suffered a brain hemorrhage, but Alec’s kicks had also damaged his spinal cord. The doctors had shared their devastating news that Bailey was paralyzed and would never regain the feeling in his legs again. However, Bailey had proven the doctors wrong because he had regained feeling in his legs again. He was able to stand on his own for a few seconds.

Marc wheeled Bailey to the back deck, where a wheelchair ramp was placed. Marc had ordered to adjust the house so that Bailey could move through the house and garden without help from others. At first, Bailey had been shocked and angry at hearing the prognoses from Doctor Reynolds. Then, he has succumbed, and from that moment, the fight to walk again had been on.

Bailey hadn’t said it with so many words, but Marc knew that Bailey wouldn’t roll over and play dead, just like that. Now, Bailey was able to stand without Marc’s help. Soon, Bailey would stand up without help too, of that, Marc was sure. Bailey was a fighter, and he wouldn’t stop fighting until he could walk again. But, until then, Bailey would need his wheelchair, and that’s why Marc had the house adjusted so that Bailey could move freely through the house in his wheelchair.

Chapter Forty Five

“You’re doing great, Bailey,” Hector praised. Bailey smiled; sweat was dripping from his forehead. “I believe that you are ready for some swimming. The house has a pool, right?” Hector inquired. Bailey nodded, he would like to go for a swim, but he didn’t want to see the spot where the pool house once stood. Granted, Marc had ordered to tear the place down, but still.

“Are you alright?” Hector softly asked when he saw Bailey staring at the wall. “I’m fine,” Bailey replied. “Let’s call it a day. You think about the swimming, and I’ll see you the day after tomorrow,” Hector said as he put his things in his bag and left. Hector greeted Marc, who was on his way to see Bailey. “How is he doing?” Marc asked. Hector told Marc that Bailey was physically doing great, even better than expected. “That’s all that I can tell you,” Hector said when Marc asked him about Bailey’s mental state. The former assassin knew that Bailey had a hard time comprehending everything that had happened. Marc had to it that it was a lot to digest and that Bailey would need time, a lot of time. He would give Bailey as much time as he needed because he loved him.

“Hey, baby,” Marc kissed Bailey on the top of his head. “Hey. Don’t, I’m sweating,” said Bailey when Marc wanted to pull him close. “I don’t care, baby,” Marc replied as he leaned toward Bailey, took his face in his hands, and gently brushed their lips together.

Bailey wrapped his arms around Marc’s neck and let Marc pull him out of the wheelchair; then, he pressed their lips firmly together; with his tongue, Bailey demanded that Marc would open his mouth, which he did. Marc was pleasantly surprised that Bailey took the lead. They hadn’t slept together since the ordeal in the pool house.

It was two weeks since Bailey was released from the hospital, and even though they slept in the same bed, Bailey had kept his distance. Marc didn’t like it, but he knew that Bailey needed time, but that he would be alright because Bailey

was stronger than he thought he was. Bailey broke the kiss and eyed Marc. “What is it, baby? You know that you can talk to me about everything, right?” Marc panted. The kiss had been full of ion, and the former assassin knew that it was up to Bailey to take the initiative, but his body thought otherwise. And, apparently, Bailey’s body reacted too because he felt the man’s erection pressing into him.

“Oh, baby. Do you want me as much as I want you?” Marc whispered. “Yes, I do, but.” Bailey gently pushed Marc away. He looked away when he softly said, “I’m not the Bailey I once was anymore. I don’t know if I can.” Bailey stopped again. Marc took Bailey’s face in his hands and looked him deep in his gorgeous green eyes; he softly said, “Baby, you take all the time that you need. I’m not going anywhere. I love you so much.” “You do? I mean, you really do love me that much? Even though I can’t walk?” Bailey whispered. “Sweetheart, I worship you,” Marc said. Bailey smiled, and this time, Marc was rewarded with a real smile, one that reached Bailey’s eyes.

Knowing that Marc truly loved him and that he gave him all the time that he needed, made Bailey instantly feel better. Bailey also confessed that he still had trouble with Marc’s feelings for Alec. Marc had been honest about his feelings for Alec; he had explained that he thought he still had feelings for Alec until he had seen the true Alec. Marc had witnessed that Alec had beaten and kicked Bailey, to the point that Bailey lay on the ground, unconscious. It was then that Marc realized that it wasn’t Alec he wanted, but Bailey. Bailey had felt so much better after that.

Bailey wanted to be with Marc, making love to the man he loved, but he wasn’t ready yet. It had everything to do with his inability to use his legs properly. Marc lowered Bailey into his wheelchair, and then they headed for the back deck. The weather was perfect, so Marc wanted to dine outside, and Bailey had relented because the weather was indeed lovely.

Marc rose to his feet, kissed Bailey on his soft, full lips, and said, “I’ll be right back.” Marc went inside, and a minute later, he was back with drinks. A beer for himself and sparkling water for Bailey because he still had a lot of medication, and the doctor had told him not to drink alcohol.

Mario ed them on the deck and greeted Bailey and Marc. Bailey had told his father that he wanted to know more about his twin brother and about his uncle, the one who was killed by Mario. “I’ll leave you two to it,” Marc said, but when he was about to stand, Bailey, pulled him back. “Stay, please. You are my partner, and I don’t want secrets between us,” Bailey said as he looked at his father. Mario nodded; he knew that Marc would never betray him.

“So, dad, will you tell me about Fabian?” Bailey asked, looking expectantly at Mario. The mob boss nodded, and then he told Bailey about how insane Fabian had been. That the man had been a psychopath and that he had raped children. Killed animals and even had tried to kill Mario and Robert by setting the house on fire. Fabian had been rotten to the core, Mario had explained.

Mario suddenly glanced at Marc; he said in a careful tone, “I know that you probably won’t tell me, but I’ll ask anyway. Do you know who ordered the hit on Fabian?” Marc looked thoughtful because he knew that it had been Darren Brown, aka Eddy Davis, who had ordered the hit on Fabian.

“Since he’s dead, I can tell you the name of the one who gave the order to kill Fabian. It was Darren Brown, a former assassin himself. I didn’t know who it was that gave me the assignments until he told me,” Marc softly said. He didn’t need to mention the happening that made Darren confess that he was Marc’s client.

Now it was Mario who looked thoughtful. “The name doesn’t sound familiar,”

he said. “He also goes by the name Eddy Davis,” Marc informed Mario, and this time, he got a reaction from the mob boss. “Him, I know. He tried to weasel his way into the organization, but I didn’t trust him,” Mario growled. “Glad that he’s dead,” Mario said while looking at Bailey. “If not, then I would have killed him myself,” he added. Bailey didn’t know what to say, so he stayed quiet.

They sat in silence for a while when suddenly Bailey spoke. “So, my twin was a psychopath?” Mario nodded. “And no, you’re nothing like him, my son,” Mario answered the unspoken question. “Why not? After all, he was my twin, so how can you know that I won’t turn into a psychopath?” Bailey questioned because this made no sense. Fabian had been his identical twin.

“A stranger would not be able to keep you and Fabian apart, true, but I could, and so could your mother,” Mario paused, then he added in a quiet voice, “Even though she wasn’t in his life for long.” Bailey swallowed hard because he heard and saw the pain every time Mario talked about his late wife, Emily, Bailey’s mother.

“How?” Bailey questioned because it still didn’t make sense. Mario’s smile was rueful when he said, “Do you know that the eyes are the mirror to the soul?” Bailey shook his head; no, he didn’t know. “Even though you were identical twins, your eyes were different. You were about six months old when your mother and I noticed the change in Fabian. It’s hard to explain because can a sixmonth-old child’s eyes shine with madness?” Mario sighed.

“Maybe it was why I wanted for Fabian to stay with me when Emily decided to leave me,” Mario’s voice was low, a near whisper, but Bailey had heard every word. “It was the same with Robert, but I hoped that at least my oldest son would turn out differently. Robert had the same look in his eyes as Fabian. Only Fabian could hide his insanity better because of his big green eyes. He fooled many because of his green eyes, especially when he got his, well, innocent look. He often practiced in front of the mirror. I caught him practicing a couple of

times, but I never thought anything of it. Then again, insanity runs in the family. The Hatcher family, that is.” Mario said, and he looked tired, older even. His father had suffered, of that Bailey was sure, even though he was a mob boss.

Bailey sat upright because had he heard that correctly? There was madness in the family from his mother’s side? “Are you alright, baby?” a worried Marc asked. “Yes. No. I don’t know,” Bailey finally whispered. Marc handed Bailey a glass of water. “Here, drink; you will feel better,” he said. Bailey took the offered glass and took a few sips.

“Bailey? Look at me,” Mario said in a firm voice. Bailey reluctantly turned his head to face his father. Mario’s smile was warm and reassuring; he said, “It’s true that I murdered Emily’s brother, your uncle. That was after I found out that he had molested and killed two young girls.” Mario paused; Bailey looked; well, Mario couldn’t read his son’s expression. It was clear that Bailey wasn’t shocked, but Mario had seen a flicker of fear. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared, but Mario had seen it, and apparently, Marc had too.

Marc opened his mouth to ask for the umpteenth time if Bailey was alright when the man rose his hand. Marc closed his mouth, and Bailey said, “I’m fine. Really. It’s just; I don’t know how to explain.” He eyed his father intently, then he whispered, “How could you be sure that Nathan was that kind of monster?”

Mario sighed, and Bailey could tell that the man was getting emotional. “After two six-year-old girls were molested and then killed, I was informed that my dear brother-in-law was the perpetrator. I, of course, couldn’t believe it, or rather I chose not to believe the accusation against Nathan. It would have broken your mother’s heart if she knew of these allegations.” Mario paused, sipped from his water, and then he continued.

“I decided to confront him with what I was told to give him the chance to deny everything. When I asked him a few days later, he didn’t deny any of it. In fact, he even laughed and began to share the gory details. Well, that’s when I snapped and shot him. Unfortunately, Emily was home. She should have been at her mother’s, but she wasn’t, and she saw the whole thing go down.” Mario paused again. He then said. “You read the diary, so you know that she was in the garden when I shot and killed Nathan. She adored Nathan and didn’t know about the monster that he was, and I never told her,” Mario sighed deeply. “Not even when she said that she would leave me because I killed her brother,” he added softly.

Chapter Forty Six

“Keep on going; you’re doing great,” Hector praised. Bailey wanted to tell Hector exactly how he thought about swimming, but he was busy not to drown. “Keep your head above water. Come on, one more lap.”

“Hey, baby. How was swimming?” Marc asked when he ed Bailey and Hector at the pool. Bailey opened his mouth to complain to Marc about Hector being relentless, but then looking thoughtful, he said, smiling brightly, “Pretty good, actually.” Bailey glanced at Hector. “Thank you for pushing me as you did. I needed that.” Hector smiled. “Just keep swimming, as much as you enjoy, but never alone,” the physical therapist warned.

Hector eyed Bailey, his expression serious, as he said, “You know that, today, you were using your legs while in the water?” Bailey opened, and then he closed his mouth again. No, he hadn’t noticed. “I did?” he gasped. “Yes, you did, which means that I’m convinced that your legs will fully recover,” he grinned.

“How can you know? I mean, I just swam for the first time; it could have been the water moving my legs,” Bailey softly said. He would do anything to walk again, but he was baffled by Hector’s words.

“For two weeks, I’ve seen the signs. The way the muscles in your legs respond to the massage. Your legs are getting stronger with every ing day. You have lots of willpower, and that’s what you need if you ever want to walk again. Today I was hard on you, but I felt that you needed it,” Hector explained as he was looking expectantly at Bailey.

Bailey pressed his lips together, searching for the right words. “You are right; I needed that kick in the ass to end my pity party,” Bailey itted. It wasn’t easy to it to it, but Bailey had always been honest about his feelings, and if

people found him a sissy, then so be it.

“Baby, I had no idea. Did I do something wrong? Should I have done things differently?” Marc sounded worried and confused, not at all like the merciless assassin that he was or had been. Marc had promised Bailey that he had retired, and Bailey trusted Marc to keep his word.

It was Hector who spoke. “If you allow, then I can answer that question,” the physical therapist said. Bailey nodded because, being a physical therapist, Hector should be familiar with these kinds of problems.

Hector turned to Marc. “There’s a difference between you and me when it comes to Bailey and how we treat him. You love him, and that’s why you aren’t able to push him to the limit because you’re too scared of hurting him.” Hector turned from Marc to Bailey as he continued. “I’m a physical therapist, and I know what you can do if there’s enough willpower. You were nearly drowning in self-pity, which is very bad for your recovery,” the physical therapist explained.

Marc looked thoughtful. Had he been too gentle with Bailey? “No, you did everything right, Marc. Bailey needs your love and devotion after the hard work that I put him through. It’s a perfect balance,” Hector said, smiling. Bailey smiled too; he felt much better now, and certainly after hearing Hector assuring him that he would walk again.

“I will walk again,” Bailey whispered as he leaned back against Marc’s firm muscled chest. Hector had left and would be back the day after tomorrow. Bailey knew that the man would push him even more, and that was alright. However, right now, he needed his man to hold him.

“Yep, you will walk again; I never doubted that because you are a fighter, and giving up isn’t an option. Doctors can heal so much, and then it’s up to the patient to do the rest. Some do give up, and when they do, they will never fully recover.” Marc carefully turned Bailey, who was on crutches, so he could move around and use his legs a little. Bailey wasn’t able to stand for more than two seconds. However, he was confident that soon, he would be able to use his legs again.

Marc took Bailey’s face in his hands, “I love you so much, baby. I’ve never felt like this before. With you, it’s special. With you, it’s perfect,” Marc whispered, then he leaned toward Bailey and kissed him, hard.

Bailey let go of the crutches so that he could wrap his arms around Marc’s neck, which was a big mistake. Marc hadn’t expected Bailey to let go of the crutches, and Bailey had forgotten, for a short moment, that he still wasn’t able to stand on his own two feet. His legs weren’t strong enough, and it was because of Marc’s fast reaction fast that Bailey didn’t fall to the floor.

“I have you, baby. I won’t let you fall. I will never let you fall,” Marc whispered. Bailey wrapped his arms around Marc’s neck; Marc lifted Bailey into his arms and eased him into one of the lounge chairs that stood by the pool.

“Why don’t we go out for dinner tonight?” Bailey suddenly said, stunning Marc. “Alright, sweetheart. Do you have something in mind?” “Yep, Captain Jack’s. Byron has renewed the menu, and I’m curious,” Bailey replied, smiling. Marc smile too, and soon, Bailey would be able to walk again. That knowledge had lifted Bailey’s spirits big-time, which was good because Bailey had been showing signs of depression the previous day’s. Marc had been worried about Bailey’s mental state because the man had gone through so much in such a short time.

“We can take a bath together,” Marc carefully suggested. He longed to hold Bailey and make love to him, but he knew that the ball was in Bailey’s corner. Marc was patient because he didn’t want to put pressure on Bailey. “We don’t need to do anything that you don’t want to do. I’ll have to it that I want nothing more than to make sweet, slow love to you, but it’s not the most important thing. Our relationship is so much more than just sex, and I know that you think the same,” Marc softy said.

Even though Bailey knew that Marc meant every word, he was relieved. This man really loved him, and he loved Marc more than he had loved anyone, ever. Bailey also was pleased that his father still was around. Marc had opened their home for Mario and the three bodyguards. Mario had graciously accepted Marc’s generous offer, which had pleased Bailey immensely. It gave them time to really get to know each other.

Even though Mario had been in town for a while now, they hadn’t had the chance to get to know each other because of all the things that had happened. Everyone who had been after Bailey was dead, except for Shauna; she was put away in an institution for the mentally ill. Bailey hoped that she would never get out; Shauna could rot in hell for all he cared.

“Yes, let’s take a bath together. And, could we invite my father to have dinner with us tonight?” Marc grinned as he told Bailey that, of course, it was alright if Mario would them for dinner.

Bailey called his father to invite him to have dinner with him and Marc. Mario told Bailey that he was delighted and loved to have dinner with them. Marc went upstairs to fill the bath, which had hydro jets, which would be suitable for Bailey’s back. Hector, the physical therapist, had approved the use of the hydro jets, and Marc smiled at the thought of surprising Bailey.

“Are you ready for our bath?” Marc asked, grinning. “Yes, I am,” Bailey softly replied. “Baby, this bath is for you, and I won’t do anything that you’re not comfortable with,” Marc said after seeing the sudden insecurity in Bailey’s eyes. “I love you, sweetheart. What have goes so much further than just having good sex,” Marc assured Bailey.

Bailey smiled, “I’m sorry, I should know better than to be so full of doubt,” he replied. “Come on. Let’s go upstairs,’ Marc said as he kissed Bailey gently on the lips before lifting him into his arms and walking up the stairs. Bailey was making good progress, but still, he wasn’t able to stand on his own for too long, let alone climbing the stairs. Plus, Bailey liked it being carried by Marc.

The time that they spend in the tub was relaxing. Marc gently massaged Bailey’s feet, then his calves, his inner thighs, and when Bailey moved his hips forward, Marc saw that as an invitation to give Bailey’s hard erection his full attention. Bailey gasped when Marc gently wrapped his fingers around his stiff shaft. It felt so good; how could he have been so insecure about Marc not loving him? The way Marc touched him told Bailey everything that he needed to know.

“Feels good, baby?” Marc whispered hoarsely. “Yes, yes. It feels like heaven,” Bailey moaned as he started to move his hips more frantically. Marc tightened his grip as he stroked Bailey’s cock faster. “Oh, God. Oh, God,” Bailey kept chanting. Marc licked his lips at seeing the swollen erection; he leaned toward Bailey and kissed him hard. Bailey responded immediately by parting his lips. Their tongues lazily danced around each other, no domination, just enjoying and exploring.

Marc intensified the stroking, and it didn’t take long for Bailey to lose control. “Let go, baby. Just let it go. Come for me, sweetheart,” Marc gently commanded, then he lifted Bailey’s hips so that they were above water and closed his lips around Bailey’s needed cock. It was too much, and Bailey cried out as he shot his hot, creamy seed into Marc’s mouths. The former assassin took it all, and

even carried on the sucking after Bailey was spent, prolonging the pleasure.

Bailey felt drowsy, and it must have shown. “Let’s get you into bed; I’ll wake you in about two hours. You have time enough to dress for dinner,” Marc chuckled. Bailey wanted to protest because Marc didn’t have his release yet, but Marc cut him short. “I’m okay, baby. This was about you.”

Chapter Forty Seven

They went to Captain Jack’s for dinner because Byron had a new recipe, and he wanted his brother and Bailey to try. Marc frowned when he entered Captain Jack’s. “I don’t believe it. Doesn’t have any respect at all?” Marc growled. Mario and Bailey turned around to face a livid Marc. Marc had entered the restaurant behind Mario and Bailey.

“What’s the matter? Oh,” Bailey added after looking in the direction that Marc was glaring. There, in the corner of the restaurant, sat Marcus Blake Senior, and he wasn’t alone. Opposite Marcus Blake sat Gloria McCallum, Marcus’ former mistress. The words that his mother had spoken on her deathbed came to mind again, “I’m not sick. I’m dying, yes, but it’s murder.” How had he forgotten? “Let’s go somewhere else,” Bailey suggested. Mario’s face was unreadable; he was observing Marc.

“No, we have dinner as planned. Byron wants us to try his new recipe, and that’s what we’re going to do. We sit down, have a nice dinner, and enjoy the evening,” Marc said. They were escorted to their table. Mario ordered a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild - Pauillac Premier Grand Cru Classé from 2017. And since Bailey had cut down on the medication and was allowed to drink a glass of wine again.

“That’s an expensive bottle,” Bailey commented. Mario smiled; he said, “Only the best is good enough for my son and his partner.” Bailey had a feeling that there was more to it, but he let it go for now. He would talk to his father about it, but now was not the time to question Mario.

“Care to share, or is it too private?” Mario said when the waiter had left to get the wine and three glasses. “No, it’s not private. My father is sitting in the far corner; the woman opposite him is his former mistress Gloria McCallum,” Marc explained, and he told Mario what had happened when he had arrived at the family compound after the phone call from Celia.

Mario looked angry after Marc was finished. “Are you going to do something about it?” the mob boss asked bluntly. “Yes,” was all Marc said. Bailey inwardly sighed because he knew that Marc would investigate the death of his mother and that the man wouldn’t stop until the last stone was turned.

Marc glared at the man who he suspected had killed his mother when suddenly the man in question turned his head and look straight into Marc’s eyes. If Marcus had wanted to shock Marc, then he had another thing coming. The two men kept staring at each other, and it was Marcus senior who turned his eyes away first. Marc then turned and focussed on Bailey and Mario. The mob boss chuckled and looked approvingly at Marc; he had liked what he had seen.

The waiter had obviously told Byron that Marc and his guests had arrived because it was Byron who came to their table, carrying the wine and three glasses. It was clear that he hadn’t noticed his father, who was quietly observing his son’s interaction.

“Welcome,” Byron said smiling, then he looked at Mario and said, as he put the bottle carefully on the table, “Good choice Mario.” The mob boss smiled. “I know,” he softly replied as he eyed Bailey.

“Don’t be shocked, and don’t look over your shoulder,” Marc began carefully. Byron frowned but nodded. “Marcus Blake is here,” Marc eyed his younger brother intently. Byron had been afraid of their father, and rightly so because the man was a bully. “I will greet him in a while. Then I’ll ask him nicely not to visit my restaurant ever again,” Byron said coldly. Marc nodded approvingly, as did Mario.

Byron had changed a lot since he had left the family compound and away from their father. Byron knew that Marc had given him the chance to be his own man, and he had taken that chance with both hands. Now, Byron was the proud owner of Captain Jack’s and had turned the already popular restaurant into an even more successful establishment.

Byron knew that he had Marc in his corner, and Mario had told Byron that he had his back as well, should it become necessary. Byron, however, could hold his own, plus he wasn’t intimidated by their father anymore. Marc couldn’t be prouder of his younger sibling.

Byron filled the glasses with the expensive wine and left. It wasn’t necessary to order because Byron would serve them his new dish. He knew which appetizers they liked, which would be served in a minute by the waiter.

Marc watched Byron walking toward the table that Marcus and Gloria were sitting at, and Marc saw his father smile. What was the bastard up to now? It seemed that Byron and Marcus were in discussion, and Marc was curious about their conversation. It looked like Gloria said something to Byron, but he ignored her, much to Marc’s amusement. Gloria didn’t like to be ignored, well, too bad.

Dinner had been perfect, but if one had asked Marc what Byron had served them, he wouldn’t be able to recall. It had tasted so good, and that was what Marc would . They were back home and sitting in the living room where Marc served cognac for him and Mario; Bailey wasn’t allowed to drink strong alcohol.

Mario sipped his cognac and eyed Bailey intently, suddenly he said in a soft voice, “Did you read the rest of your mother’s diary?” Bailey blinked, and it took a few seconds before he answered because the question was so out of the

blue. “No, I haven’t,” he replied quietly. “Well, you should; it’s the best way to learn more about her,” Mario added. And again, Bailey saw the pain in his father’s eyes.

It was the following morning, after breakfast, that Bailey decided to continue with his mother’s diary. Hector wouldn’t be visiting until the next day, so Bailey had all the time in the world to read Emily’s journal.

Journal in hand, Bailey went into the sunroom and sat down on the comfortable recliner that stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rays of the sunshine were shining down on him; Bailey felt relaxed when he opened the diary and started reading.

October 17, 1994

Mario called me today; he wants to see the boys. I told him no because it wouldn’t do them any good. Brendan and Bailey need stability in their lives, and they don’t get that when Mario turns up to see them every now and then.

Instead, I asked, no, I begged him to let me see Robert and Fabian. The fact is that Bailey misses his twin brother so much. They always had a special bond, and now they are separated because of Mario.

In his sleep, Bailey often calls for Fabian; then, he starts crying. He doesn’t in the morning, thank God. I will never return and never forgive Mario for keeping my two other precious boys away from me.

I’m trying to make a home for my boys and me, but it’s not easy. Mario keeps an eye on me. Even though I don’t see him or one of his men, I know they are there because I can sense them.

December 23, 1994

It’s nearly Christmas, and the boys and I trimmed the Christmas tree. Bailey keeps asking after Fabian, and by now, I don’t know how to answer anymore. It breaks my heart to see my little boy so sad.

February 26, 1995

Today I got a telephone call from Mario. It seems that Fabian’s behavior has given him reason’s for concern. Mario told me that he caught Fabian torturing the neighbor’s cat. He also said that it wasn’t the first time that he had seen Fabian torturing animals.

He inquired after Bailey, asked me if Bailey had the same, well, urge hurting animals. I told him that, no, Bailey loves animals, and he’s the kindest child I know, just like Brendan.

I begged him again to let me see Robert and Fabian, but again, Mario refused, which gives me no other choice than to relent.

March 7, 1995

It looks like Bailey has accepted that Fabian is out of his life and that his twin won’t return. It’s been a while since he asked about Fabian. My two sons are finally adjusting, and I’m so pleased to see that both are doing great at school and making friends, too.

I still worry about Fabian because of what Mario has told me. It’s hard to imagine that my sweet boy hurts animals and has fun doing so.

Even though I hate Mario for keeping me away from Robert and Fabian, I know he wouldn’t lie to me about my children. It’s a horrifying thought that my boy is capable of these dreadful things.

“Everything okay in here?” Marc softly asked as he stepped into the sunroom. Bailey gently closed the journal as he turned to face Marc. “Yeah, everything is alright,” Bailey replied. Marc didn’t look convinced; he said, “Are you sure because you look a bit shaken.”

Bailey sighed. “According to my mother, my father knew that something wasn’t right with Fabian when he was only about five years old. It’s alarming to read about that,” he said. “I need to talk to my father about Fabian,” Bailey added. Marc nodded; he said, “You do that because he is the only one left who can answer many of your questions.”

Bailey looked at Marc; he softly said, “Are you really going to investigate the death of your mother?” Marc nodded. “Yes, it’s something that I need to do. Someone close to my mother murdered her, and I want them punished,” he said. “Do you need to stay at the family compound for that?” Bailey inquired. “Yes, I do, baby,” Marc answered patiently, he knew what was coming, and he wasn’t disappointed. “I’m coming with you,” a determined Bailey said.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart; it’s way too dangerous. Plus, you need your rehab sessions,” Marc explained. Bailey looked chagrinned; he said, “Is it because I’m not able to walk properly?” “Partly, yes,” Marc answered honestly. Bailey blinked because he hadn’t expected Marc to be so God damned honest, so blunt.

“Listen, baby. If my father murdered my mother, then it will get dangerous, and I want you safe,” Marc said, eyeing Bailey intently. “I’m the safest when I’m with you,” Bailey insisted, and that was something that Marc couldn’t argue about because it was true.

“When do we leave?” “I don’t know. I need to do some research, and I don’t know how long that takes,” Marc replied. Marc knew that he wouldn’t leave before Bailey was able to walk again. He knew that the situation at the family compound could turn ugly in record time. Marc decided that he would call his sister, Celia, first before surprising his father with an unexpected visit.

The front door opened and closed again; Marc knew that it was Byron. Marc immediately questioned Byron about his conversation with their father at the restaurant earlier. “Well, the bastard wanted me to expand, opening Captain Jack’s all over the country. He, of course, would bankroll the whole deal; that way, he would control me again,” Byron replied. Marc noticed that Byron wasn’t tense; if anything, the man seemed relaxed. “I, of course, told him to go to hell and take that bitch that now may call herself Mrs. Blake with him,” Byron grinned. “You should have seen their faces; it was priceless, especially that of Gloria, my God, she really is a bitch,” Byron informed Marc, Bailey, and Mario, who was still present.

Marc smiled because, soon, he would make a surprise visit to the family compound, and he knew that his father couldn’t refuse him. Marc was even allowed to live there, should he feel up to it, which he wasn’t. The former

assassin still doubted taking Bailey. When it came to hunting and killing people, Marc was better alone. If it turned out that his father had anything to do with the death of Marc’s mother, then Marc would kill him.

This is the end of book one, part one in the Assassins series.

To be continued.

About the Author

I always find it challenging to write something about myself, but here it goes. I'm fifty-something, and I started on my first book in 2012. Some people call me a late bloomer, and I guess that I am. I married my wonderful hubby when I was thirty-three years. According to my mother, it took me too long to get married and finally settle down. I think that it was just the right time. I don't have kids. I have two dogs who are my life. I'm a dreamer, always have been, always will be. I believe in true love and romance. I believe in people. I live in a small village because I love peace and quiet. I love camping, especially if it's in Italy. If I'm not working on a story, I spend time with my dogs.

More Books

Julian - Grapevines & Skyscrapers Book 1 Reunited - Grapevines & Skyscrapers Book 2 Weddingbells - & Skyscrapers Book 3

Jory’s Destiny - The Wentworth Pack Book 1 Family Matters - The Wentworth Pack Book 2 Insanity - The Wentworth Pack Book 3 Children of the Gods - The Wentworth Pack Book 4

Guardian Angels

Christmas Miracles - A Voice from Heaven

Serigala Valley

Rescues – Dutch and English Edition

Links

https://haleylangwood.wixsite.com/mijnsite

https://www.facebook.com/HaleyLangwoodwriter/