Kevin

Before my life, once again, took a massive shit. Let me remind you of a little fact.

I am not a killer.

However, I have the desire to slay the snakes that invade my mind but I have yet to pull the trigger on the faces that haunt me. Years of pent-up agitation and hunger for redemption swirl waiting for the right temperature to break. I never knew how to truly face these demons. Until he came around. Adam, unapologetically, murdered those people. One by one he wrapped his fingers around their throat and pushed them to their knees. I envied the way he gave in to the wind and took care of business. He handled me, Reese, and himself. He doesn’t flinch when the world throws its curveball.

Life is certainly better since I left my previous life but the memories still chain me to that god-forsaken basement. I can still smell the burning woods and watch my psycho sister walking out with a blank stare. That catastrophic night when the truth of lies and deception caught up with me. Though it wasn’t the start of my downward spiral, it was the altering of it.

I can feel the invisible hand of life hovering over the switch ready to flip it. Turning off humanity and letting the monsters take over. I know once I spiral, and go to far, there is no coming back.

“Here you go!” Bailey says. Interrupting my thoughts.

She is so fucking weird! Every day I question how on earth did my life come to this point?

Oh yeah, I needed a new start.

I. Needed. A. New. Start.

Bailey offered this position on a silver polished platter and I would’ve been a fool to turn it down. Using whatever military skills I adhered to and mixed with what I learned with my time with Adam gives me the perfect resume as a recovery agent. You want it recovered, Bailey and I are your people for the job.

This job ... this job was a doozy. Let me be clear, again, I HATE SNAKES.

She laughed at me while we broke into this multimillionaire’s house to take back this snake. We bickered like an old married couple. So much so, you wouldn’t believe that we have never slept together. We’ve only kissed once and it was on the plane when I accepted the job. Blew my mind as her hands raked through my hair. Yet it was all for show and didn’t mean anything. We played the part for the mile-high club and she could finish her job. Since then it’s been all work. She is full of life and smiles but there is a darkness behind the pupils that worships the serpent. She carries a secret that I have yet to discover as she keeps me at arm’s length.

She took this job pro-bono and only told me what we were getting after we stood in the foyer of this mansion. The owners were out of town for something, I barely listened, to be honest. I was too focused on the fact she once again did this to me. The whisper fight ensued only because we should’ve gotten paid.

I could feel my face pale when she went to hand me this creature. I shiver at the thought of its scaled skin even touching mine.

“Don’t throw up this time!” she points to me.

“God, I want to punch you in the face, Bailey!” I whisper. I know she can hear me too.

She sweetly laughs yet I am completely serious. I made her sit in the back of the plane and car the entire ride back. No way was I going to let her, and that fucking snake, sit next to me.

She stood in front of our client as Bailey handed over the rare venomous snake to the conservationists who hired us. She is stroking the snake as if it was a dog. I want to smack my hand over my face but I can’t. Not in front of the client at least.

We have been steadily working together for six months now and have developed a good system between the two of us. She helped me get back on my feet after the faked death of my sister. Before I found out it was all a lie, I was a mess with drinking heavily right after it happened. Several nights I found comfort on my floor. Hardly sober enough to get jobs done but I muddled through.

Bailey encouraged me to get a pilot’s license. Said it would be good for me, and the business. I needed to take charge of my life. For months I had allowed so many things to hinder moving forward and I was just muddling around. After the first few classes, I found that I enjoyed it and I was good at it. Taught me a lot about myself.

Our first recovery after my graduation was for a rare emerald that was hijacked from a trust fund baby. Priceless jewels for family names. Bailey was able to track down who took it from an online gaming forum. The game was the cover for people to talk freely on the black web. Turns out that Bailey can do the bare minimum of technical stuff but anything big she reaches out to our mutual contact ... Donald. Old Mac Donald. He’s our hub.

The nightclub where the emerald was being stashed was a good cover. “Dit’s and Tit’s” was its name. Bailey went in undercover stripping. Her weird personality made her fit in just right. Find that hook with someone and you can reel them into your fantasy. She’s an expert angler. Setting the bait, waiting for them to bite, then she rips that pole and hooks her target.

Hook. Line. Sinker.

For over a week she went in and served her little curvy heart out. She didn’t strip and kept most of her clothes on, but that girl could pull in the tips and looks from anyone. One night I was sitting outside waiting to pick her up and she came running out in a panic. She jumps into the truck and starts screaming to drive. Her accent comes out at the most stressful time and I can’t understand why she tries to cover it. Men came out, guns in hand, and extremely pissed. She ducks into the floorboard of the truck while I burn tires to get away. She is laughing and singing to Flogging Molly, as bullets rattled my truck. I round a corner and speed down the narrow road to the small airfield where my plane has been hiding.

We found we were able to fly in and out of places easier and could bypass a lot of security.

I cursed her for not giving me a heads up that she was stealing it. This was my life now. One recovery after another.

A small part of my heart was personally recovered a few months ago when my baby sister surprised me before revealing herself to Adam. She wanted to make sure I was sorted and explain to me that she did not actually die that tragic day. She stood at my condo door holding a box of chocolate chip croissants. I let her in and grabbed the perfect box of goodness. It disgusted me then. I made her watch as I threw the entire box over the railing of my balcony. Then I sat on the couch with her in front of me crying and apologizing.

An hour, she cried and apologized for an hour. Finally, I relented and told her I forgave her. I do understand why she did what she did. Unfortunately, a part of me will hold that wall up toward her.

She left to go finally live her life. Free from the chains. I haven’t talked to Adam or Reese much since then. The last I had heard they were in Italy and thoroughly enjoying their time together.

That epic pile of shit that was my life is now in the past. I still don’t know who I am yet but I know who I am not.

I sit in our warehouse waiting for Bailey to arrive. She sent a text early this morning letting me know the office is open. A small coded text tells me that we were hired for a new recovery. She never explains over text or phone. She’s too worried that our stuff could be tapped at any time. So in person, at our office, where we have privacy and safety measures in place. Equipment to block any interference. No one can barge in to listen or see what we are doing.

This warehouse houses a few cars and my plane. I’ve spent a few nights here wallowing in self-pity or mindlessly working on our stuff. I haven’t had a lick of alcohol in ... man. Now that I think of it, I can’t remember when the last time I drank was. Shrugging my shoulders and looking at the deck of cards in front of me. Swiping them up I shuffle the stack a few times than deal the cards out. Solitaire it is. I am

In the middle of a game when Bailey rushes through the door.

“It’s the mother-load!” She says, raising her arms above her head. Her excitement is contagious sometimes.

“What’s up?” I ask. I am still focused on my card game.

Bailey huffs that I am not giving her the attention she wants. She walks over and swipes her hand across the desk throwing the cards all over the floor. Some items off my desk accompany them.

She then climbs up on the desk and sits cross-legged in front of me. Hands rest on her knees and I relent. Looking at her streaked blonde hair I notice she hasn’t dyed it in some time. Dark and vibrant red hair is growing from her roots is starting to show.

“You have my attention,” I say. Holding my arms up in surrender she squeals in appreciation.

“A red 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California Spider!” She says clapping her hands together. “The owner, Asher Von Webb, said someone from his organization stole it from him while he was overseas. He wants this back asap!”

“Where was it stolen from?” I ask.

“From his home in the Hollywood Hills. I did a little bit of digging and found a few videos of the guy driving it out of his house. I can’t believe this guy was so stupid. His name is David Nester and he’s trying to move up in the underground world. Thinking this high-end steal will elevate him to the next level. He reached out to a few collectors of classic cars to try to sell at the highest bid. Donald stepped in and helped me make sure we were the only ones to get these texts. It’s going down tomorrow night. Our client wants this taken care of as soon as possible.”

I sit silently waiting to see if there is anything else she wasn’t to divulge to me. The silence makes her uncomfortable and she can’t help herself. The panic talk that comes is comical sometimes. Other times it breaks your heart but that is a rare occasion you see her shatter. very rare. I can see how excited she is about this car.

“You really want this?” I say, pinning her with a stare.

“I do,” She softly replies. “It reminds me of my father’s car. He would take me on a drive, just him and I, and listen to classical music. It was nice to have it just him and I.”

Her eyes drift off in memory and her features falter. She doesn’t speak openly about her past. I know only what she has allowed me to know. I haven’t pushed and she hasn’t pushed about my past either.

“Asher Von Webb? Who is he?” I ask.

She places a packet of newspapers in front of me. “He’s in international finance. Takes business’ to the next level. Pretty clean background and this seems like an in and out job.”

“It’s never that simple, Bailey.” I point to her.

“I’ve done my research. I know I am no expert but nothing jumps out of the ordinary. Ordinary for us.” She says.

I take a deep breath and see her tapping her fingers against her knee. Anxiousness fills her survey body as her eyes fill with hope. Recovering this car may help relieve some emotional loss she is feeling.

“Ok, set the meet,” I instruct.

Her body bounces and she rolls herself off my desk. I chuckle at her childlike behavior. She fist bumps the air and races to her desk. Small wins for that weirdo.