Dripping Roses

8

The next morning I got up in a hazy mood. I hated what I was doing to Scar but it couldn't be helped. This was my job. This is what I am good at. I have always been good at it. This crush I had for Scar will dwindle once she is put behind bars where she belong. I tried convincing myself the entire night that this is the right thing to do. After Scar left, I had a cold shower and I went to bed in hopes of getting some sleep. Yet I got not even two hours rest.

I sighed loudly and plopped out of bed. I went into the shower and came back out. I dressed in a black pencil skirt and a white blouse, with a jacket over it. I then proceeded to make my self a cup of coffee and indulge in a granola bar. I sat at my island and thought about the possibilities of what can happen today.

I've always been dedicated to the job. For a very long time, its been all I've ever had. I've always had doubts on my abilities to maintain a family and taking into consideration my failures at the subject, it's safe to say that the job is all I have.

I never joined the justice system for money, cause the pay was shit, really. Never went to law school with my goals to be twelve chrome Ferrari's nor beach houses in Portugal, no. I wanted justice. I wanted to fight for the people, for the families, for the one's who couldn't speak for themselves. I'd be lying if I didn't say that it was personal.

That's why I chose prosecution, even though I worked for the FBI, I did have a JD and a senior position in the DA's office. However, paperwork got tiring and I took it to the field sometimes.

As a child, I was trained in languages, multiple forms of martial arts, archery, offensive driving, shooting and manipulation. Being a stone cold bitch on the other hand, was all me.

I sighed, picking up my briefcase.
I didn't do a good job and the truth is, I failed myself. I fell for the target, I had an emotional attachment to the target, I cared for the damn target and that could cost me my life. Damn it, Scar.

I was late. I was extremely late and that is not me. Never in my life have I been late to anything. Again, Scar Kenneth managed to ruin my perfect demeanor. I sped down the highway at maybe two mph faster than the speed limit. I was so bad ass right now. This was not acceptable for a FBI agent. When I finally arrived at the precinct, I elegantly speed walked to his office.

I sat at his table and frowned. "Speak!" I scowled.

"You're late!" He said pointedly.

"Yeah, well sorry if I almost died last night and didn't go to bed till three this morning." I scowled.

"You didn't die, so next time be early. Now down to business. Jose Martinez is trying to run a drug trade within Scar's territory. We tried gaining any information we can about it but we came up short." He explained.

"So what does that have to do with the capture of Scar?" I asked.

"I was coming to that. You see, Scar has been loosing a lot of men. So when she does find out, she will also go with her gang to wipe out Martinez's gang. That is when we will strike." He smiled proudly. I instantly got a bad feeling about this but it was a good idea.

"When is the bust?"

"It is the beginning of August."

"So the next two months." I said.

He nod and I sighed.

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Throughout the day I kept thinking about what is the possibilities of the drug bust going wrong. I tried everything to get rid of those thoughts but it still swarmed in my head. I hated to do this. In ten years, this was the most amount of guilt I ever felt. I hated that feeling. I hate how infatuated I am with Scar. I hate how in only a week she managed to weaken me. I hate it.