Bad Habits: A Dark Anthology - Yolanda Olson Page 0,7

God.

A huge fucker, over six foot seven. Built like a goddamned brick shit house. And as evil as they come. He noticed my gun, and we got to talking about hunting. Turns out he was here with his team of two.

I don’t believe in fate and all that shit, but meeting him was my destiny. He offered me a job, sending me out to find some drug lord and bring back his eyes. I returned with his eyes, tongue, and ears. God chuckled and told me I was special.

Now, I’m his second in command.

I have a team of assassins under me, two men and two women, and then there’s Fletch. Each of them answer to me, but they obey God above all else. I chuckle at the analogy.

The kettle screeches loudly, and I flick off the gas before pouring the steaming liquid into the coffee pot. I don’t stay up here as often as I’d like, so the amenities aren’t as modern as my apartment in the city.

My phone pings on the counter, and I ignore it for a moment to sip my black coffee. The burn on my tongue is welcome, and the bitter taste makes me groan in pleasure.

Another ping comes through a second later, and then another. When I pick up the device, I find three messages from Fletch.

Big man wants to see you

Dude, shits about to hit the fan

I think it’s best you come in

Fuck.

I open the last called number and hit dial. Pressing the phone to my ear, I listen to the rings. One. Two. Three. Four.

“Hey man,” Fletch answers in his happy tone.

“What’s going on?” I question, not bothering with greetings. He knows me far too well to think I’m going to chit chat after those messages.

“You know Boss was looking into those disappearances?” he asks in a hushed tone which perks up my attention.

“Yeah?”

“We found something, it could be—”

“Don’t bullshit me with could be, Fletch,” I bite out in anger. I shouldn’t be angry with him, he’s just taking orders, but there’s no one else around, and he’s used to the shit storm I normally bring upon him.

“Look man, I know you’re antsy about this case, but I think this is a real hit,” I can hear the sincerity in his tone. My chest aches, it tightens, my heart thudding like a fucking caged animal in my chest. It’s ready to rip right through me, but I hold it down. I tame it because I’ve had these certainties before. And none of them panned out.

“I’ll head back now,” I tell him with a groan. Hanging up, I leave my phone on the counter before heading into the living room and pushing open the patio door. The glass slides with ease, and I step out into the fresh morning air. There’s nothing for miles, and that’s what sets me at ease. Looking out over the trees, all I note are the mountains in the distance.

I don’t want to head back just yet, but if it means there could be a link to finding my sister, then I’ll take it. I will do anything to see her again, make sure she’s okay. I always doubted that she was still alive. There were times I would see her, and I knew I was fucked in the head.

Months passed, so many bottles of bourbon were emptied, and lives were taken by my hand, but nothing prepared me for the faux funeral my parents threw for her.

There had been an empty coffin and a few people crying. My mother being one of them. My father, the stoic asshole he’s always been, offered a short speech on how much we all missed Kahli. My sister was one of a kind, always offering help to everyone around her, she would even walk the neighbor’s dogs when she came home from school.

She did everything right.

And then one night, she never fucking came home.

Slugging down the last of my coffee, I swallow it before heading back inside. I pull out a smoke from my packet and light it before leaving the mug in the sink and grabbing my shit. Time to head back to the big bad city.

Once I’m back on my bike, the cabin locked up, and have my shit secured on the backseat, I turn the engine and listen to it purr to life. The roar reminds me that I’m alive. It reminds me that there’s a job to do, and it also reminds me of the girl I failed