Free Pick Your Poison by Roxanne St. Claire

the tables and chairs were being dismantled by a crew of hotel workers. Ben paused, surveying the room, getting his own clarity back.
    “We can find her,” he said. “We have to find her.”
    “The chef?”
    “Angela McManus. That is, if she’s still alive.”
    He set off, his arm still around Callie, letting her cling to the man who saved her life, practically tripping as they ran past the partially bussed tables. The tables…
    “Wait a second.” She brought them both to a halt near the back of the room. “Just one. I need one.”
    She plucked a Black Cherry bloom from a centerpiece and stuffed it into her pocket. One would be enough to start next year’s crop.
    He didn’t argue, but took her hand again and led her out, up the escalator, to the lobby doors.
    “Oh thank God!” she exclaimed when they stepped outside and sunshine poured over them. “I will never complain about the Florida heat again.”
    “C’mon, Callie, run.” He didn’t give her a chance to soak up the glorious sun, dragging her across the street, into the parking garage, and all the way up the stairs to the top level where they’d parked.
    With every step, her head throbbed, still bruised from the butt of Monica Stone’s gun. The pain just reminded her that the woman was a killer and if they didn’t move fast, God only knew what fate Mrs. McManus might meet.
    Ben peeled his car out of the garage, driving with one hand and punching a number into his cell phone with the other. He threw the phone on the console in speaker mode so Callie could hear it ring.
    “I told you no resources,” a woman’s voice came through the speaker, throaty and low and oozing cool confidence.
    “Lucy, the governor and his head chef are trying to kill Mrs. McManus and make it look like an assassination gone awry.”
    The statement was met with dead silence as Callie and Ben shared a look.
    “You’re basing this on your gut?” the woman asked.
    “I’m basing it on unequivocal facts, including poison on her plate, a positive ID from a credible witness, and an hour in a freezer where I was locked with the credible witness who got an admission of guilt right before the chef tried to put a bullet in her.” He paused for a moment. “And, just so you know, Lucy, I’m on speaker with Callie Parrish, a… foreign substance expert I’ve brought on the case.” He threw her a look. “Callie, this is my boss, Lucy Sharpe.”
    Lucy coughed softly.
    “Former boss,” Ben corrected. “And future boss.”
    After a beat, Lucy said, “Let me double check the governor’s schedule.”
    Callie stole a look at Ben, who drove with his attention riveted on the road ahead, his jaw clenched. He looked strong. Amazing. Confident. And, of course, gorgeous.
    Her heart was definitely… thawing.
    Granny Belle would love him and, funny thing, so could—
    “They’ve gone to a tri-county tea party at the West Villages retirement community just outside Tallahassee,” Lucy said. “Mrs. McManus is the featured speaker.”
    Ben shot the car into the right lane of traffic, barreling toward the interstate, barely glancing in the rear view mirror.
    “I’ll send the exact address to your phone and you can program directions.”
    “Does the itinerary say if Chef Monica Stone is with him at the event?” he asked.
    Lucy didn’t answer, but Callie could hear the soft click of a keyboard in the background. “She’s there, coordinating the menu, which brings me to something else.”
    “Yeah?” He cut off a truck and ran a yellow light to get to the I-10 entrance ramp.
    “The report from the lab came in on the poetry book you found at the rope-line with the black roses and pepper jelly.”
    Callie sat up straight at the mention of the roses, leaning closer to the phone.
    “Turns out they aren’t poems at all. One of our former NSA guys broke a simple code and in every poem is a formula for creating a poison from ordinary household items, different foods, and many flowering