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Michael Milton eyed the young rookie cop snooping around the flower beds with a look of mild interest and intrigue. This young cop seemed to think of himself as an Eliot Ness type, and that simply wouldn’t do. But he wouldn’t let such a beautiful young man go to waste. He gave a drag of his cigar, put it out once it was finished, and looked at his faithful butler, Zachariah. “Ask the young man to come inside for a beverage,” he said. “And have the cook prepare the special tea.”
“Yes, Mister Milton,” Zachariah said before going to do his employer’s bidding.
Michael watched the man in the flower bed for a moment longer before going to sit down in his chair. He was thankful that he had procured this new drug in considerable quantities. He’s already tested it on men who were no longer employed by him, to fascinating and exciting results.
He won’t kill this young cop, no. But he will enjoy having this young cop.
He lit up a Cuban cigar, a smuggled thank you gift from Fidel Castro himself for a job he did very low, under the radar, and really, at the behest of the CIA. He leaned back in his seat and waited for this enterprising cop who thinks himself as a G-Man to be brought to him.
That didn’t take long.
“The officer you wanted to see, Mr. Milton,” Zachariah said, leading in the young man. He was tall, strong, with a good jaw and dark blue eyes. His eyebrows seemed to do the talking for the young man, and Michael admired him in his policeman’s uniform. He stood up.
“Thank you, Zachariah,” he said. “What would you like to drink, Officer?”
“Tea, please. Earl Grey, with a splash of milk,” the officer replied.
“For you, Mr. Milton?”
“I’ll take my old fashioned now, please and thank you, Zachariah.”
Zachariah nodded and left.
“Please, have a seat,” Michael gestured. “I’m sure it’s been hard work, digging around in the gardenias.”
The officer had the graciousness to give a light flush as he moved towards the desk and the chairs in front. “I apologize,” he said. He reached across the table to shake hands. “Gadreel Pennikett.”
“Michael Milton, a pleasure,” Michael said. “Please, sit. I’m just curious as to know why you were rooting around in my flowerbeds. My brother won’t be too pleased if you messed up too much of his work.”
“I assume you know the rumors about yourself and the Milton family in general, Mr. Milton,” Gadreel said as he sat down. Michael sat down and took a drag of his cigar.
“Cigar, Mr. Pennikett?”
“I prefer cigarettes,” Gadreel said.
Michael nodded and withdrew a spare box of matches and a selection of fine cigarettes. Gadreel took his pick and lit up.
“I have heard some of the rumors, but I’m quite certain that they’re all just that, rumors,” Michael said. “Unfortunately, my younger brothers aren’t as. . . well tempered as I am.”
“That’s an understatement, especially if you’re concerning yourself with Lucas and Nicholas,” Gadreel said, ashing his cigarette.
“Oh, those two,” Michael waved his hand expansively. “The two of them have been nothing but trouble since my mother- may God rest her soul- brought them screaming into this world. They’re good lads, just hot tempered, especially Lucas. Lucas is just highly protective of Nicholas.” He took another drag. “I still don’t see how that means you’re rummaging around in my garden.”
“There’s a new rumor going around, Mr. Milton,” Gadreel explained, “and my sergeant wanted me to take a look into it.”
“And what is that new rumor, Officer?” Michael asked.
“That bodies of your former employees are laying underneath the very garden you uprooted me from.”
Michael didn’t let anything pass over his face. In his mind, he was mentally berating Lucas and Nicholas. No doubt one of them spilled it while drunk on the Roaring Third. Or maybe they were fucking a woman. Or a man. His younger twin brothers weren’t stingy with gender. He sighed internally and looked at Gadreel. “Absurd.”
“I figured that as well, but my superior was very insistent that I look into it,” Gadreel said.
At that moment, Zachariah reappeared with the drinks. He gently set down the cup and saucer of Gadreel’s tea in front of him. He brought the old fashioned around to Michael and leaned in to whisper very softly, “The tea has been prepared the way you wish. Where do you want me to take him?”
Michael nodded. “Put him in my room, strip him, and tie his hands to the bedposts,” he murmured quietly behind a drag of his cigar. “I do not want him to be harmed, is that understood?”
“Perfectly, Mr. Milton.” Zachariah straightened and said a bit louder, “Will that be all, gentlemen?”
“I believe we’re good for now, Zachariah, thank you,” Michael said.
“Then I shall take my leave,” Zachariah said, giving a slight bow. He nodded at Gadreel and left the room.
Gadreel sipped his tea and hummed thoughtfully at the taste. Michael hid a smile behind his old fashioned and discreetly checked his watch.
They discussed the rumors surrounding Michael and his family, with Michael keeping careful track of the time.
“Would you mind if I laid down somewhere, Mr. Milton?” Gadreel asked politely, his voice slightly slurred. “It seems the heat and the discussion have me feeling a bit dizzy.”
“Of course not,” Michael said blithely, ringing the bell for Zachariah. “Please take our guest to a room where he may lay down, he’s feeling a tad peckish,” he told Zachariah.
“Yes, Mr. Milton.”
Once Gadreel had been half carried out by Zachariah, Michael smiled darkly to himself.
He took his time, knowing that he wanted Gadreel more fully gone than when the drug first hit his system. So he did some work for the more legitimate sides of his business empire, signing a few contracts and writing a note to eventually call his contacts down at the funeral home to see about cremation again. Bone meal, as Lucas insisted on pointing out, was excellent for roses. And as he knew Nicholas would follow up, murder is harder to prove with no body to account for.
By the time he had looked up, two hours had gone by. He finished off his drink and carefully straightened his desk before walking to his bedroom.
“Is he ready?” he asked Zachariah, who was standing guard outside.
“He is, Mr. Milton,” Zachariah confirmed. “I take it you don’t want to be disturbed?”
“Not unless the house is on fire or one of my brothers comes in injured,” Michael said. “And see to it that Lucas and Nicholas learn how to not brag about their. . . conquests.”
Zachariah gave a thin smile. “Of course, Mr. Milton.” He nodded and left.
Michael entered his bedroom and licked his lips at the sight of the young rookie cop. The younger man was bound to Michael’s large bed, a dopey smile on his face, and his member was certainly standing at attention, one of many reasons Michael preferred this drug over others. He wanted Gadreel to be awake, pliant, and utterly enjoying himself, no matter what happened. Other drugs that he’s tried didn’t tend to offer that luxury.
“Are you comfortable, Officer?” Michael asked as he slowly began to strip.
Gadreel gave an affirmative sort of hum and watched Michael undress.
Poor little Gadreel- well, maybe not so little, Michael noted with an impressed smirk. Wrong place at the wrong time, asking the wrong questions. He won’t kill this one, though. He’ll just do what he will with him and then send him back to his sergeant.
Gadreel may not remember their sordid night, but Michael will. And Michael will enjoy every. Single. Minute of it.