“Hey, I am just doing what the lady over there told me.” He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, “I even got a tow order paid in full to come pick this car up.” He unfolded the sheet in his hand and read off the make, model and color of my red sedan. Even the license plate.
I stared at him and swallowed down my stomachs desire to rid itself of the alcohol I had filled it with instead of food. I snatched the paper out of his hand, “What lady? I don't see a lady.” I scanned over the tow order, my eyes trying their damnedest to focus.
I picked up a few things and at the bottom I saw the scrawled signature I couldn't read but the printed name next to the signature made my blood rise, Claire Avondale was the authorizing agent and had paid in full for my car to be towed.
“Ms. Witmer, if you will please come inside the house I will explain everything.”
I spun around angrily to come face to face with Rebecca smiling easily at me. Dressed impeccably she motioned towards the house. She moved closer and placed a hand on my elbow, “Please? Let Robert get back to his job. I will explain everything.” She cut me off before I could spew a what the fuck at her. The look in her eyes also told me that a scene would not be welcomed in her presence. I could see her hold back as she easily smelled the booze that was oozing out of me so much so; even I was starting to get drunk on it all over again.
I grimaced and handed Robert back the tow order, taking a step back to the house. I stumbled and when I felt her hand on my elbow steady me I politely ripped it from her grasp, “I can walk on my own, thank you.”
“Of course Ms. Witmer.”
I rolled my eyes at her soft and polite tone. I walked into the house and straight to the kitchen, desperate for water I filled a glass and chugged two glassfuls of water before I held onto the edge of the counter to steady myself. This hangover would be a bad one.
I cleared my throat, “Why is my car being towed under the authorization of Senator Avondale?” My words came out with a bite and a sting.
“Ms. Witmer I am here to drop off your first month's paycheck and the signing bonuses for coming on board with Senator Avondale and her team.”
I turned to look at the personal assistant slash former NSA agent. Rebecca had set a large black box with a smaller grey folder on top of the cluttered coffee table. She sat down in the same leather chair Davey had the day before and I suddenly felt like I was having Deja vu. Rebecca motioned towards the couch, “Please?”
I took a deep breath, pushing off the counter and staggering over to the couch. Falling down onto it, I had only one thought. I needed to buy breakfast with my first paycheck and soon before I did throw up for the rest of the day.
When I was seated Rebecca, opened the grey folder. “First, this is your paycheck and a few instructions on how to set up direct deposit if you so desire.” She then set a small envelope to the side then picked up a thicker one, “This is your bonus, and there is five thousand dollars in cash here. For wardrobe and other necessities.” Rebecca smiled at me, “I can assist you in shopping if you would like.”
I shook my head, “Thanks but I think I know how to pick black business pantsuits out, I was a stuffy agent once too.” I leaned forward and reached for the paycheck, pulling out the direct deposit form I glossed over it as Rebecca stared at me.
The silence was what caught me. I expected Rebecca to ramble on as all personal assistants did. I had my fair share of that in my celebrity protection work. I looked up at Rebecca with half a smirk, “Did you need me to pay attention?”
Rebecca smiled tightly and looked down at her hands, “Kit, may I call you Kit?”
I shrugged, “I don't really care.” it came out quiet; my hangover was making its presence known at a rapid rate. My head pounded and I could feel the sweat building around my temple.
“I highly suggest you start to care, Kit.” Rebecca stared in my eyes, hard and in a way that unnerved me. “Claire. Senator Avondale is entrusting you with not only the protection of her work, but the protection of her life and that is not something I will sit here and have a drunken fallen star shit all over.” She stood up straighter, “I know Janes told you I was NSA, and I was, yes. I know the life of a protection agent. I spent at least four years on some of the worst details in some of the most dangerous parts of the world. So I fully understand what it takes to keep Senator Avondale safe. What she sees in you or even what Janes sees in you, I am looking forward to seeing it. You have three weeks to not only prove to Senator Avondale that you are the best they all think you were, or once were, but you also have to prove to me that you will be able to keep her safe.”
Rebecca stood up quickly and dug around in her pocket, throwing a pair of car keys on the box. My eyes latched onto them as they slid across the box top and hit the wooden table with a hard thud.
Rebecca pointed at them, “Claire is towing your car because she knows that it's the same one you have had since college, and no longer a reliable vehicle. Those are the keys to your new car.” she then tapped the box lid, “This is also the last bottle of scotch or booze you will dump into your body. Call it a parting gift from Claire; she thought your last bottle should be your best.”
I could sense the irritation rising in Rebecca, watching her smooth out her pristine pale pink button down, “Monday, be at Senator Avondale's Malibu home at eight am. You and I start then. Don't be late.” She turned and glanced around my house, taking note of how filthy it was with an upturned nose and a disgusted sniff of the stale air.
Rebecca walked towards the front door and paused, turning back to me, looking at me with genuine pale blue eyes, “None of us know what happened to you. We are all putting our faith in the fact that you truly were the best agent the Secret Service ever saw Caitriona. Put your faith in yourself.” Rebecca smiled tightly and walked out of my house, closing the door quietly.
I stared at the front door for a moment before I tore open the paycheck; it was for ten thousand dollars. I pushed out an astonished laugh staring at the number. My paychecks had only barely passed two thousand in my days with the agency; this was a ridiculous amount of money. I set the check down slowly and pulled the black box closer to me; gently lifting the lid I whispered a holy shit.
Nestled in soft satin was a black matte bottle of fifty year old Chivas Regal. A small off white card sat on the middle; I picked it up and read the note.
“Your last drink should be your finest Ms. Witmer. From this point on, I will only accept your complete clear mind.
-Senator Avondale.”
I shook my head and tossed the card back onto the bottle that I knew cost more than my house. I slammed the box lid back on, irritated by the audacity and balls my new boss had. I shoved the box away from me and grabbed the car keys. I walked out and saw the tow truck and Robert were gone, as was my little red sedan.
In place of my trusted little sedan was a brand new sleek Lincoln town car. I stared at it and when I hit the unlock button clutched in my hands, the car beeped elegantly.
I walked over to it and the closer I got to it, I began to notice the small details that this was not an ordinary car. The glass was ballistic grade and the car had been armored in a similar way as the rest of the vehicles in the Secret Service fleet. When I sat in the plush leather driver's seat, I noticed that the GPS and navigation system had encryption, allowing only the driver to know where it was headed.
I ran my hands over the leather wrapped steering wheel noticing that the entire car was fitted for protection like the cars I had driven in the agency, but beyond anything the agency could afford on a taxpayers budget. I looked around the car, admiring the finer details of a luxury car when I heard a small beep in the middle console. I opened the wood grained console and found a brand new smart phone plugged into the charging dock.
The screen was blinking with a text message from Sen. Avondale. I swiped the screen and read the brief message.
-I hope everything is to your satisfaction Ms. Witmer. I am sure by now
you have explored the new car and have put together why such a vehicle would be better suited for you than that sedan. This phone will be your primary phone, it is encrypted and I must ask that any future communication between you and I is done solely through this phone.
The rest will be explained in detail on Monday. Please enjoy your weekend and the scotch.-
I squeezed the phone out of irritation. This woman was already one step ahead of me and was far deeper into my life than I wanted when it should be the other way around. I had the sudden urge to prove this woman wrong in every possible way.
I climbed out of the car and slammed the door, frowning when the thick plated doors shut slowly and quietly. Taking all of my slamming satisfaction away from me.
I groaned and walked back into the house, snatching up the paycheck and shoving it in my top dresser drawer. I then grabbed the five thousand in cash and the bottle of Chivas, stuffing the scotch in the back of my closet to be untouched. I then jammed cash in to my small purse and set out to shower and go shopping. This woman, this Senator was already pushing my buttons in a way that my restraint and patience training from the agency would dissolve at a rapid rate.
Chapter 3
I never could sleep in, it was something that escaped me as a child and carried through my entire life. For whatever reason, my body wanted to be up every day at six in the morning. I often felt it was because my brain was always in an ever revolving state of thought or problem solving.
Since I was on vacation, I took the opportunity of not having anything scheduled on a Monday and walked the grounds of the Malibu home. Hot cup of tea in hand, I walked to the edge of the backyard so I could look down the hill and take in the expansive ocean view. Quiet, peaceful and endless. Three perfect descriptive words of the ocean in the morning. No sunbathers, surfers or random people ever bothered to get up this early and travel through the cool sand below.
I soaked in the early morning sun and walked slowly, letting the stress of D.C. wither away with every step. I loved that I could wear jeans and V-necks the entire time I was here. I had no one to impress aside from Rebecca. She had seen me in plenty of Senator suits and ball gowns over the years and once told me she always preferred it when I was dressed down and my hair was messy from the wind. She also told me that I was less stuffy when I wasn’t in Senator mode.
I began walking back to the house to refill my tea when I heard the gravel driveway being shifted around under the weight of a car. By the distinct sound and checking of my watch, 0730 ticking at the hands on the dial, I knew it was Kit pulling into the driveway.
Today was her first day at work.
Walking to the edge of the driveway and side yard, I smiled watching Kit navigate the new car with precision and care. Exactly as all of my previous Secret Service drivers had done until I opted to have Rebecca or my own private drivers take over driving responsibilities.
I could hear the soft muted bass tones of music playing in her car and when she opened the door I was taken aback by the distinct sounds of Symphony in C minor flowing from the speakers of the Lincolns high end sound system. I raised an eyebrow, I half expected Kit to be a rock and roll or heavy metal connoisseur. Regardless, I had a faint feeling this woman would continue to surprise me in the smallest ways.
Kit stood up, removing herself from the car and I couldn’t help but stare longer than was appropriate. Kit had used the bonus and used it well. Gone was the stuffy black agent pantsuit I had met her in, replaced with a light grey pantsuit with a white top underneath that had sheer edges. Perfectly tailored in a way that accentuated her physical assets but did not make anything seem inappropriate for a day at the office. The whole outfit made Kit softer and when she glanced up from the car, pulling off her sunglasses as she smiled lightly in my direction. Her hazel eyes were clear and caught the sunlight, giving me full view that the scotch had left her system more than forty eight hours ago. Meaning her last purchase was truly her last.
Kit closed the driver’s side door; walking to the back seat she held her smile, “Good morning Senator Avondale.”
Her voice was even clearer, sharper. Gone was the gravelly rasp of too much drinking and sleeping on anything but a bed, “Good Morning, Ms. Witmer.” I paused and glanced down at my empty cup, “Is it alright if I begin to call you Kit or Caitriona from this point forward?”
Kit grabbed her bag from the back seat, a black soft side briefcase that sagged at the bottom slightly. Letting me know the former agent had come prepared with her trusty .45 caliber sidearm registered to her. She swung the bag on her shoulder, closing the car door and locking it, “And what do I call you? Senator Avondale? Senator Claire Avondale? Boss?” Although she was sober, the bite of her sass was still prevalent.
I smirked, her tenacity was entertaining, “Senator Avondale in public and at the office in D.C. Here and in private, Claire is sufficient. You are my personal assistant, it would be better if we were on first names.”
Kit shook her head lightly, “And don’t forget I am also your bodyguard. Secret bodyguard.” She stopped to stand a foot away from me, her eyes meeting mine, “Where is Rebecca, my trainer.”
I stood for a moment, looking in her eyes. They were a stunning color of a muddy green, a color that I could picture from my days in Ireland and I would catch pieces of bright green grass poking out of the fresh mud. I also could read her better and her emotions now that they were clear and free of the haze hangovers brought. I knew I was looking seconds longer than I should have, but I was still fascinated at how the Secret Service had not been able to properly photograph this beautiful woman.
I turned away towards the sound of a bird in the trees wanting a distraction from my thoughts, “Caitriona, are you from the Irish or Scottish origin of the name?”
Kit took a slight breath, hinting at irritation building, “Irish. There are a few Scottish ancestors in my family. Call me Kit, whenever I hear Caitriona I look around for my grandmother.”
I nodded and turned away from the tree, “Rebecca is inside, finishing up today's itinerary. Follow me and we can get started.” I shifted towards the door, “How does the car handle? Is it to your liking?”
Kit followed me as I walked to the side door, “It handles better than any car I have ever driven. It must have cost a pretty penny. Taxpayers penny.” There was an edge to her tone that I couldn’t place, nor did I want too. She was testing me as much as I had her in the last few days. I could see it clearly.
I held the door open for Kit and as she stopped, waiting for me to take the lead again I smiled tightly, “It cost me a pretty penny. All of the things you have received and will receive from me are from my pocket alone. I refuse to use taxpayer’s money to supplement my own protection or desires.” I walked past her, “In time you will understand that being a Senator not only benefits the people I serve, but it benefits the work I am doing.”
We walked into the kitchen, I set my cup down in the sink and over my shoulder I asked Kit. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee, water, tea, juice or something stronger.”
Kit set her bag down with a soft clunk as the gun in her bag hit the wooden floors, “Coffee will be fine, Claire.” My name was spoken carefully with a hint of hesitation, as if she was testing me and my request to be less formal in the confines of my home.
There was something about the way my first name sounded in the slight tenor of her voice that struck me. Made me swallow hard and feel a small touch of embarrassment creep up my neck. I grabbed the freshly brewed pot of coffee to focus on something other than Kit and filled up a cup. When I handed it over to Kit, I noticed her hands were trembling. An effect of alcohol being out of her system for longer than it was used to. I took note to see how long it would take her to steady the hands that would ultimately carry my life if and when the need arose.
Kit picked up the cup with both hands; effectively controlling the trembling and when I glanced at her, she was looking down, very determined to will her hands to stop sha
king.
I went to ask about the bottle of scotch I had sent over, but was interrupted before I could utter one word. Rebecca breezed into the kitchen, grinning when our eyes met. The grin fading slightly when she saw Kit standing next to me.
“Good morning Ms. Witmer. I didn’t expect you for another fifteen minutes.”
Kit set the coffee on the counter, but kept both hands onto it, “My mother always taught me arriving on time was being late. I am always early to whatever job I have to do.”
Rebecca nodded, moving to stand next to me as she handed me the tablet. Pointing to a few emails I had received from Dr. Zehren. I looked over at Kit and noticed that she was watching Rebecca and me, the gears in her head examining and observing the way we interacted. I knew how extensive her agent training had been as well as the fact that all of her training agents had noted in her file that Kit had exceptional observation skills, she was bound to pick up that there was something between Rebecca and I. Something she would question me about later. That perhaps personal lines had been crossed at one point.
I felt flush and stepped away from Rebecca, quietly thanking her for the tablet. I swiped through the emails as Rebecca turned her attention to Kit, “Nice to see you put a concerted effort into leaving the black agent suits at home.”
Kit half smiled and shrugged, “Thank you, but by the looks of things, it’s causal Friday here every day.” She made a point to scan over my worn jeans and shirt as well as Rebecca's outfit.
Redemptio Animae Page 4