Page 116 of Magic or Madness

I place a kiss on her forehead, watching as she resumes her daily routine of keeping our bedroom spotless. I gave up on offering help or encouraging her to take a break long ago, letting her feel like she’s doing something important.

“Where’d you go?” She asks, barely looking up as she tidies up our nightstands.

“Me and Oliver went to check out a warehouse. We got a job today,” I tell her, and she spins around, a big smile on her face.

“Finally! Max has been pacing holes in these floors faster than I can polish them. What’s the job?” She wonders, and I wince, scared to tell her how dangerous it is.

The last thing I want is to make her worry, especially considering how far out the timeline is, but I could never hide anything, or lie right to her face.

“The client wants us to steal about two million dollars worth of heroin from this crew, but they’re very thorough. Security, cameras, codes, armed guards … the works,” I confess, and her expression changes from excited, to flat out concerned.

“That sounds risky,” she says softly, dropping what she’s doing and flopping onto the edge of the bed.

“It’s high risk, high pay, Bambi. We couldn’t say no,” I explain, and she nods along with my words.

“I understand, baby. I just … don’t want you to go,” she speaks slowly, her words coming out nervous, rather than confident.

Easily, I can see her demeanor changing, even if she’s blinking back the tears, and refraining from saying what she’s really thinking. She forgets that I know everything about her, including what’s on her mind, and right now, the pauses in her sentences tell me that she doesn’t want us to do this. She’s always supportive, though, and I couldneverfault her for being my biggest cheerleader.

“It’s in two weeks. We have plenty of time to prepare and research everything we’ll need to know.” I comfort her, pulling her into my arms, and squeezing her as tightly as I can, almost as if I let go, she may slip away for good.

“You better come back to me in one piece, understand? I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t,” she warns, and I concede, promising her something that I know I can’t guarantee.

“Like an oath,” I say, changing the mood and holding my ring finger out to her.

“Sacred prayer.” Our tattoos align, and she kisses my hand softly, the belief she carries for me vibrating through my bones.

“How was yoga, Bambi?” I delve into her mind a bit, taking the heat off my news, and graciously wondering about her day.

“Incredible. I love centered breathing exercises, it really helps to clear my mind. Plus, I’m getting more flexible,” she teases, climbing into my lap and I wrap my arms around her, feeling her heartbeat against my chest.

The familiar vanilla perfume she always wears enamors me, keeping my body cemented in place alongside hers. So much isuncertain in this world, but I know one thing for sure, Fallon ismy home.

Her body, her mind, and how I feel when her arms wrap around me, are all a culmination of how no matter what happens, she is everything I need, and more.

This job may be the most dangerous that we’ve done in years, but as long as she’s waiting for me on the other side, I’ll be alright.

Something about this feels different though, and an ominous feeling of doom is constantly washing over me, stealing my ability to think clearly.

No matter how much we research and prepare, there are always variables that can’t be planned for, and I have a dark sense that something is off about this job, almost like I’m being warned against doing it. I shake it off, knowing that we have the element of surprise on our side – something that always comes in handy when planning a job this big.

I have confidence in myself, my crew, and our training.

If anyone could pull off a job with this much risk, it’s us.

This is our return to thedark side, but something tells me we’ve never left.

PART THREE:

THE COLLAPSE:

FALLON

Everyone is on edge,planning for this job that has sucked all the life out of this place.

With one week to go, it’s clear that the boys haven’t gotten as much of the research done as they wanted, and it’s beginning to take its toll.

I’ve spent hours with Ozzy and Lex, combing through footage of the warehouse, looking for inconsistencies or changes in routine, but we’ve come up with nothing useful. This heroin crew is nothing less than consistent, and they follow a strict schedule. Guards are always littered around the premises, and even more so on days they receive more product.

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