For the Love of Flowers Read online

  For The Love of Flowers

  Kelsey Hodge

  Copyright © 2020 Kelsey Hodge

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN-13: 9781234567890

  ISBN-10: 1477123456

  Cover design by: Rainbow Danger Designs

  For Wesley, who has been there through everything. Giving me a shoulder to cry on when things got tough. Encouraging me every day and never losing faith.

  Thank you.

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 2 - Wyatt

  Chapter 3 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 4 - Wyatt

  Chapter 5 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 6 - Wyatt

  Chapter 7 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 8 - Wyatt

  Chapter 9 – Lorenzo

  Chapter 10 - Wyatt

  Chapter 11 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 12 – Wyatt

  Chapter 13 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 14 - Wyatt

  Chapter 15 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 16 - Wyatt

  Chapter 17 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 18 - Wyatt

  Chapter 19 – Lorenzo

  Chapter 20 - Wyatt

  Chapter 21 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 22 - Wyatt

  Chapter 23 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 24 - Wyatt

  Chapter 25 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 26 - Wyatt

  Chapter 27 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 28 - Wyatt

  Chapter 29 - Lorenzo

  Chapter 30 - Wyatt

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  About The Author

  Come join the fun.

  Chapter 1 - Lorenzo

  Looking out the window of the warehouse, I wonder once more how I’ve ended up here. But then again, this is the life I’ve been born into. Moving my eyes, I catch the reflection of the room behind me, and I’m back to the reality of the situation. Turning to face the man tied to the chair, I unbutton my suit jacket to reveal the butt of my gun, nestled in its holster under my arm. Walking over to the man, steeling my face so that the disgust and fear I feel about myself doesn’t show. He knows his future by the scared look in his eyes and the tears running down his face.

  “Okay, Tony, let’s start at the beginning, shall we? What the fuck did you say to the cops?” Staring at him, I wonder if I’ll get the truth, or if he’ll lie, hoping to save his ass.

  “Nothing, Lorenzo, I swear. I said nothing!” he pleads.

  I pull my gun so that Tony can see it. “Come now, Tony. No more lies. Nothing will change the outcome of tonight, so tell me the truth.”

  I walk back and forth in front of Tony, making sure that my gun is always visible. He knows tonight that he’ll die regardless of what he says, and I need him to remember this, so we get the truth.

  “Lorenzo, please, listen to me. I didn’t tell them anything. I’m not that stupid.”

  I stop in front of him and strike him across the face, causing it to snap to the side. When he faces me again, I see that I’ve split his lip, and a slight trickle of blood drips down his chin.

  “Tony, we saw the cops going into your fucking restaurant, and then lo and behold, one ship gets fucking raided. Luckily, it was a decoy. Now, I won’t ask again. What the fuck did you say?”

  A sob leaves Tony’s mouth, and his shoulders slump on a sigh. I’ll get some answers.

  “Okay, I talked to a Detective Johnson and mentioned looking at some ships due in, but I swear I mentioned no names. They got lucky. I’m so sorry. Please let me go.”

  I walk back to the window and stare out again across the water at the Manhattan skyline, dreaming for a second that this isn’t my life. Taking the safety on my gun, I turn to face Tony and fire—my aim is perfect, hitting his head dead center and killing him.

  I turn back to look out over the water again and allow a single tear to run down my cheek. I’m thankful I did this part alone; it won’t take someone long to spot the pause in my step, after he mentioned Detective Johnson’s name. If anyone sees that, then questions will get asked. There’s no way I will answer those questions. Some secrets need to remain that, secrets.

  I put my gun back into the holster, pull out my cell, and hit speed dial. The call answers almost immediately.

  “Dad, it’s done,” I say while buttoning my suit jacket. “He stated he mentioned no ship names, and I believe him. Maybe the cops got lucky this time. A cleanup crew is needed.” Before asking the next bit, I pause. I don’t know how Dad will react to the request. “Maybe this time, the family can have the body. It would send a message, making sure no one else talks.”

  “You did good, Lorenzo, as I knew you would. I’ll send in the cleanup crew in ten minutes. Please wait until they arrive.”

  “Will do. Will there be anything else tonight?”

  “No, son, you’ve done enough. Go home and relax.”

  I wish Dad good night, hang up, and resume my position looking out the window. This room in the Brooklyn dockyards. So familiar to me now, it’s where I come for all my talks. It’s an unused factory, and the run-down appearance makes it inconspicuous. It’s also far enough away from civilization that gunfire cannot be heard, but this place is also my personal piece of hell.

  Looking at the cell still in my hand, I make another call. “Pickup ten minutes.” I don’t wait for a reply.

  Ten minutes later, the cleanup crew arrives and gets to work. As they remove Tony’s body, I toss, “Take him to his family,” to no one in particular.

  “Yes, boss,” someone replies. I hide my shudder and make my way out of the building, leaving them to remove all traces that I’ve ever been there. Stopping, I look across the expanse of the building, thinking how noisy it must have been at one point; today, it’s a room full of dust and secrets. I sigh and continue to make my way down the steps to the door in front of me. I open it to the black Mercedes C class that awaited me.

  I open the back door and sit, still not relaxing, and wait for the inevitable.

  “Evening, boss, all set.” There it is again, that word, ‘boss.’

  “Yeah, Frank, everything’s all set. Cleanup is in there, and they have instructions to take Tony’s body to his family.”

  The look of surprise on Frank’s face isn’t lost on me, but I look him in the eye, and my reply shocks him even more.

  “Those that talk to cops must know the consequences, regardless if they say nothing. Giving Tony back to the family sends a message. He was good, but he talked to the cops.”

  “I understand, boss.” Again, that damn word. It’s harder to hide my shudder in a car. “Are we taking you home, or do you need a drink?”

  “Home, Frank.” The car moves, and we head towards the Williamsburg Bridge, East Village, and home. I let my head fall back against the leather seats and close my eyes. I would love to talk to Frank and ask about his day, but that’s something not done in this family. Employees aren’t friends. The silence is almost deafening; my emotions are all over the place. I don’t like this life, never have, but it’s not a life I can leave. From the moment I was born, I’ve been prepped to take over the family business, like Dad did and his dad before him. I must get out, somehow. Otherwise, I’ll join Tony, especially if my family finds out my biggest secret.

>   Looking out the window, I see that we’re halfway across the bridge. Home isn’t too far away, and I can breathe. Five minutes later, we turn onto 1st Avenue, and a few minutes after that, we turn onto East 10th, and I can spot my apartment building halfway down the block. Frank pulls up outside the building, and I look around to make sure no one is about or no one in particular, even though he works nights.

  “Thanks, Frank,” I say over my shoulder.

  “Till next time, boss,” he replies, and I swear to God, Frank is testing me with that bloody word again.

  I stand on the sidewalk until the car is out of sight and look at my building. I love this place; it’s an old red-brick building, with a beautiful stone arch over the doorway and wrought-iron fire escapes that cling to the facade. I walk up the front steps and dig out my keys to let myself into the building. I make my way to the second floor and my front door. Only here do I stop and let myself breathe for the first time in what feels like hours.

  Looking at the 2B letters on the front of the slick black door, I put the key into the lock and make my way inside. The apartment opens into a little hallway that contains the oak side table and key bowl, where I put my keys. I walk a little further into the main room, which is an open floorplan, with the kitchen to the back of the room with its black-marble worktops and stainless-steel appliances. Beyond that is the living area and the exposed brick wall to the left, which is my favorite feature. The settee faces that wall for that reason, even though I placed the fifty-five-inch TV in the middle of the space. Beyond that are large windows that look out to the Village, which will only now be coming alive, as I look at my watch and realize it’s two o’clock in the morning. Turning to the right, I walk down the hall to the two bedrooms and take the first one on the left and make my way into the master bedroom that also has the en-suite bathroom.

  The simple king-size bed takes up most for the room, with enough space for oak bedside tables on each side. God, I wish I could jump into that bed and snuggle under the fluffy blankets, but I need a shower to wash away this evening before I can even think about sleeping. Walking into the walk-in closet, I turn on the light and take off my suit jacket, pants, and tie and hang them up. I place my white shirt and underwear in the laundry. Looking behind me, I sigh a little, wishing someone were home and not working nights.

  Leaving the closet naked, I make my way to the only other door in the bedroom which leads to the bathroom. The room is white, except for the black towels that hang on the rail. The shower cubicle is straight in front of me and is big enough to hold two people. It’s one of the major reasons we chose this apartment. Looking at the shower brings back memories of this morning, and I feel the smile spread across my face and my cock get hard. Turning on the shower, I set it to the right temperature and wait a few minutes before stepping inside. The water falls over my body, washing away the shame of the evening. I press my hands on the wall in front of me and tilt my head down to let the soothing water wash over my shoulders and run down my back, easing away the stress. I look down to see that my cock is still hard. I take it in my hand, remembering the morning, stroking it with even pressure. It doesn’t take long for my breathing to increase and my balls to tighten, and I come all over my hand. I feel myself relaxing.

  I finish washing up and turn off the shower, drying myself off before walking back into the closet to get myself some sleep shorts. Climbing in bed on my side, I lean over and inhale, smelling my favorite scent in the world and cuddle down. Closing my eyes, soon the blackness of sleep takes over.

  Chapter 2 - Wyatt

  “You all right, Wyatt?” Sitting up, I look over to Liam, my long-suffering partner.

  “Yeah, I’m good. This case is getting to me. Just want us to catch a break.”

  Liam and I’ve been working this drug case for months, and all we seem to do is go around in circles. Leaning back in my chair, I wipe my hand over my face and sigh. Every lead we’ve had hits a dead end. I had thought the information we got from Tony would be the breakthrough we needed. I had thought we would get the right ship this time, but all we find is the fucking flowers destined for some wholesale company. Even the company comes up clean; I had also checked that out in an act of desperation.

  “We’ll get there, Wyatt. We’ll get a lead; we need some patience.”

  “I hope you’re right. Oh God, I hope you’re right.”

  I pull over the case notes and look at them again, for what feels like the thousandth time. Drugs are getting into the city somehow, and it’s via the dockyards. It must be a ship, but all the ones we’ve gotten tips for come up blank.

  “Maybe we need to take another visit to Tony. See if we can get him to talk more,” I say to Liam.

  “Maybe, but that will be tomorrow night,” Liam replies.

  “The answers about this case lie with the Romano family. I have no idea how.”

  “How can you be so sure, Wyatt? We’ve checked; they’re clean.”

  “It’s a feeling I have,” I tell him.

  “Wyatt, you need to drop the Romanos. We have nothing concrete on them. You’re going to get into trouble if you keep that up.”

  “I know, Liam. I know. But I cannot shake this feeling.”

  I’ve been in the narcotics department for close to three years now, and I’ve been working with Liam for most of that time. This must be one of the toughest cases we’ve had to deal with and was causing us some major headaches. The drugs have been coming into the city for decades, but we’ve only been investigating for a few months after a new lethal strength of drug has hit the street.

  “Let’s look at the files again, Liam, and see if we can get some dates to link up.”

  I pull over the case files and look up the date of the first recorded death six months ago. I then pull over the docking records for ships that arrived three months before that date. I’m hoping that I recognize a ship, but the only name that keeps popping up is the Fiore Rosso, but that ship has been checked, twice; each time it comes up clean, containing flowers for the wholesaler. However, the dockyard logs show that ship coming in at least once a month.

  “Hey, Liam, you don’t think the flowers are a front, do you?” I ask.

  “Nope. On the times they checked it, it not only contained flowers but roses,” he answers.

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that it always comes in from South America?” I’m asking questions aloud know because I already know the answer.

  “No, Wyatt. The rose farms in South America are some of the best in the world.”

  Chuckling to myself, I must ask, “Do I want to know how you know that?”

  “No, you don’t.” Liam smiles to himself. “With your connections, surely this is something you should know.”

  I give him a slight smile, knowing he’s right.

  “Hey, let’s hit the streets. Ask some questions. You never know, we might get lucky.”

  We make our way to the basement of the police headquarters where the car park is based. We make our way over to a black Cherokee. The department wanted to try using more SUVs, so I’m the lucky one, and it’s a standard. The only downside? We stand out, especially in some areas we go to.

  “Shotgun,” Liam shouts at me, pointing to the driver’s seat.

  “Really! You know that’s for getting into the passenger seat,” I reply, smiling at him but still throwing him the car keys.

  “I know, but I wanted to change up the rules. What you thinking, the Bronx?”

  “Yeah. It’s where most of the heroin ends up these days,” I reply.

  We take about thirty minutes to get to the Bronx, talking about the case as we travel the streets of New York. We bounce ideas off each other, but my gut tells me that the Fiore Rosso ship is essential. I keep this thought to myself; Liam will think I’m crazy, considering it has already been checked.

  Once we get to the Bronx, we park and take to the streets, making our way to a local park about two blocks away. We always park away from our intended des
tination and walk the local street; it’s incredible what we hear. We always try to blend in and listen to the groups talking. Most of the people are gossiping but as we pass a group of four guys, we hear “drop in the park, meet in fifteen minutes.” We shoot each other a quick look, but say nothing and keep walking.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’re at the local park, hiding in the shadows. We keep a lookout for the people coming and going and spot the guys from earlier. They make their way to a bench off to the left and sit. They look like a regular group out to chill and drink, but the fifth person arrives and keeps looking around and checking over his shoulder. I look over to Liam. We need no communication. We nod and wait for the guy to reach the group. Once there, he sits, and it looks like he’s joining friends, but we know differently. Five minutes later, we watch him as he looks around and digs out a packet from his pants pocket, keeping it enclosed in his hand to keep it hidden. The guy next to him goes into his pocket and pulls out what I’m guessing is money, but we need the exchange to happen before we make our move. Looking at Liam, I signal for him to go after the dealer while I go after the other guys. The only one we can arrest is the person who takes possession of the drugs. But the waiting pays off as the late arriver rises from his seat and turns to shake hands with the guys next to him, and the exchange takes place. We make our move.

  We come out of our hiding place, shouting, “Police, don’t move,” as expected. The dealer makes a run for it, and Liam chases after him. The four guys have also run in different directions, but I have my eye on the one who took possession of the drugs. I’m bigger and faster than him, so I catch up to him, grabbing him by his shirt.

  “You guys always run,” I say as I twist his arms behind his back, pulling out my handcuffs, and read him his rights.

  When he’s secure, I pat him down and hope he hasn’t thrown away the evidence as opposed to stuffing it in his pants in a panic. I’m in luck for a change. As I get to his pants pocket, I feel the packet. Pulling it out, it’s a little bag containing a white powder, which will be heroin, once it’s confirmed by the lab back at headquarters.