The Rookie Read online

  The Rookie

  The Academy Series

  A.J. KENT

  Copyright

  The Rookie: The Academy Series

  Copyright © A.J. Kent 2020

  All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodies in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorised reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organisations is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by A.J. Kent

  Written, edited, formatted and proofread by A.J. Kent

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to say a huge thank you to my husband for your patience, love, support and encouragement throughout the course of my first writing journey. Without you by my side, cheering me along every single day, I don’t think I would be sat here with a completed book. You are my hero and my inspiration.

  To the several authors who ignited my passion for reading and provided me with the confidence and desire to write my own book. You are the real MVPs.

  To my readers and future readers, none of this would be possible without you. If you enjoy this book, please leave a review and share with a friend.

  Prologue

  Dear Button,

  I know you haven’t heard from me in over a year, but I am still thinking about you. There’s never a day that passes that I don’t think about your smile, your laughter and your face. Your perfect face. My perfect daughter. You have always been so perfect and so much better than everybody else. I just want you to know that even though you don’t see me and even though you don’t hear from me, I’m around. I’m watching. I’m keeping my eye on you. No matter where you go, no matter what you do, I always know where you are. I will always know where my little button is.

  I would ask about your Mother but I’m well aware that her condition is deteriorating so there’s no need for me to waste my words on her. This letter is all about you button. This letter is for your eyes only. Everything I’ve ever done has always been for you. Everything I continue to do will also be for you. You may not think it now, but you will understand one day. The way I treated you, the distance between us, there’s a plan behind the madness. A plan that will become clear to you one day.

  There is a purpose to this letter. You have to do something for me button. You have to do something very important. If you don’t agree to my terms, to my suggestions, to my rules, then there will be consequences. There will be ramifications, Rory. There will be collateral damage for your wrong doings. It is very important that you do as I say. It’s imperative that you don’t tell anybody about this letter. You must keep it hidden from your Mom, from your precious love and from the police. It is paramount that you listen to me Rory.

  If you choose to ignore me there will be consequences.

  Lives depend on it. Lives you care about, lives that you are now responsible for. Those around you will be punished if you don’t follow through on these rules. Don’t inflict pain and distress on others by your wrong doings, Rory.

  Do the right thing.

  I know it doesn’t make sense to you right now. I know this letter seems like a list of demands, a list of threats, but it’s not. This letter is giving you a choice. The choice to do what is right. The choice to make good on previous infringements. The ball is in your court Rory, you decide which road you follow. You are the orchestrator to your future.

  You and only you.

  You have to do three things button; three things are the difference between life and death.

  Three little things.

  Do the right thing button, don’t let others pay for your mistakes.

  Make the right choice.

  It’s your future, you decide.

  Burn this letter, Rory. Do not keep the evidence.

  HH

  1

  Theodore

  What kind of stupid fucker agrees to give their life away for the next six months so they can train new recruits for the academy?

  Oh yes, that’s right.

  Me.

  I am the stupid fucker who agreed to it.

  I am the stupid fucker whose responsibility is to babysit, I mean train, the next generation of FBI agents.

  The future of academy if you will.

  This is what happens when you are one of the best agents within the agency.

  This is what happens when you’re a top agent at twenty-seven.

  I was recruited by the Federal Bureau of Investigation when I graduated from MIT with the highest honours. It turns out I’m as sharp with my body as I am with my mind.

  I am the full package, apparently.

  Intelligent, skilled and powerful.

  I’m not sure why my skillset makes me the whole package, but I am not going to argue with the compliment.

  It helps my ego grow.

  As if it’s not big enough already.

  It may be all for show and bravado but that’s nobody else’s business except that of my own.

  Some people might call me a dick but that’s because they don’t know me.

  Just how I like it.

  Exactly how it is going to stay.

  Letting people into my world is not something I do lightly. It is not something I do ever.

  “Cutting it close aren’t you, Riley?” Monroe says as he hands me a coffee. Black and no sugar, just how I like it.

  “I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be.” I take a sip of my coffee and the hot liquid burns my throat as it travels down my neck

  Monroe chuckles, his voice hoarse, “I told you to say no.”

  I groan, “Yes, I’m well aware you advised me against doing this.”

  To be honest, I don’t even know myself why I agreed to become an instructor in the first place. I was happy in the field. I was happy on the front line.

  I was content helping people and making a difference.

  Were you really content though? Are you as happy as you say?

  “So why did you do it?” he questions as he takes a sip from his reusable coffee cup.

  That is the million-dollar question.

  The million-dollar question I don’t know the answer to.

  At least not right now.

  “I’ll let you know once I’ve figured it out.”

  He laughs and nods, “Got it.”

  He walks towards the door before turning around to face me, “Club Velvet tonight, Jefferson and Gabel are already game, ten, don’t be late dickhead.”

  I stick my middle finger up to him as he walks out the door.

  Thomas Monroe, Henley Jefferson and Fin Gabel are the three people who know me best.

  The three people I trust with my life.

  The three people who drive me fucking insane, day in and day out.

  Not only do I have to endure these fuckers at work, but we also share an apartment.

  Okay, it’s probably more like a penthouse.

  Either way they are a pain in my ass twenty-four hours a day.

  But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  We met in college and were recruited by the FBI at the same time.

  I think the recruitment had something to do with the programme we created that took down one of the country’s largest extortion rings. Or it could have been that I hacked into the FBI’s database one Saturday night to showcase the weaknesses in their system.


  I was completely hammered, and Fin dared me to try and infiltrate the FBI’s security system. I was never one to say no to a dare. Besides, you had to accept the dare given to you or there were unpleasant consequences.

  Following that it was either join the academy or go to prison.

  None of which I really fancied at the time,

  One of which seemed the better choice.

  One of which I ended up doing. One of which I ended up loving.

  I finish drinking my coffee before placing it down on my desk. I grab a clipboard from the supply closet and pick up my baseball cap from my desk before heading towards the welcome ceremony. I hate these things.

  The Director of the FBI spouts the same shit as she does every year. Talking about how we are a unit, a team despite our field within the agency and that we are on the frontline of history.

  Basically, just a load of bullshit I’m tired of hearing.

  I walk into the lecture hall and head towards the back of the room and stand next to Jefferson.

  “You ready for this?” he questions.

  I rest my left leg on the wall behind us and pull my hat down to cover my face.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” I manage to grunt out.

  The noise level in the auditorium starts to increase as more and more people flood in, filling the ample number of seats that are lined up in straight rows.

  “Fuck me, look at that redhead over there,” Henley says as he pushes his black thick framed glasses up the bridge of his nose.

  “Down boy let them get acquainted and settled in first before you pounce,” I laugh.

  “I am yet to taste a vixen,” he says practically chomping at the bit. ‘Besides, she has a friend. A blonde,’ he winks at me.

  I roll my eyes and continue to scan the room as the last few remaining seats fill up.

  There’s no time for blonde’s right now.

  There’s no time for blonde’s full stop.

  A few moments later Director Frieson walks up to the podium that has been erected in the middle of the stage and the whole room goes quiet.

  Silence.

  Just how I like it.

  When you work in a world that is full of horror, hate and noise, when you finally get that moment of peace, you can’t help but cherish it.

  Savour it.

  “Good morning new recruits,” Frieson says with an unnatural smile on her face. She’s not a terrible woman but she always has a scowl on her face that makes her appear unapproachable and cold. “Welcome to the academy and congratulations on getting this far. I want to point out that there is still potential for you to be removed from the academy. Just because you’re sat here now doesn’t mean you will be after six months. Your training will be ruthless and tough. It will be rigorous. More rigorous than the selection process. Your instructors are some of the best this country has to offer so use them. Listen to them. You will aspire to be them. We will push you to your breaking point, physically and mentally. You will be challenged in ways you’ve never been challenged before. But you will also experience what it feels like to be part of a team, a unit. You will also see what it’s like to be on the front lines of history. You will make a difference. You are here because you have a skillset that interests us. Don’t waste it. Show us what you’re made of. Show us why we chose you in the first place.”

  A roar of applause and cheers ripple through the auditorium and Frieson smiles as the new recruits eat up, take in and savour every word of her speech. Same speech, different year. Frieson finishes her speech and her puppet, I mean personal assistant informs the rookies where they need to go to get their orientation packs and where they need to go to meet their instructors.

  Here we go.

  Time to meet the sorry fuckers who I need to look after for the next six months.

  Bye life, nice knowing you.

  It’s game time.

  ◆◆◆

  I lean against the bench, the hot sun burning my skin as I wait for the newbies, the rookies to arrive from the welcome ceremony. I like to arrive early. It gives me time to think.

  To breathe.

  I look down at my watch and look up from under my baseball hat and scan the empty, open, outdoor space in front of me. The large and imposing training academy is the backdrop for the lush, green grass that is going to be my office for the next few months. At least until we move past phase one of training.

  I look down at my watch and shake my head. Still no sign of any rookies. If they are late, I am going to fucking lose it. Punctuality is important to me. If they can’t turn up somewhere on time how am I supposed to depend on them. How are their team supposed to trust them to have their backs?

  First rule in my handbook. My most important rule. Be on time. If you’re late it could be the difference between life and death.

  Being late could cost someone a life and life is precious.

  The ten-minute countdown is on.

  Ten minutes before someone is getting their ass kicked out of the academy.

  There is always one.

  And that one is who I will make an example out of.

  For all her faults, Director Frieson agrees with my methods and rarely challenges me on how I do things. Perks of being one of the best and the brightest I suppose.

  I look down at my watch again before voices in the distance makes me jolt my head up.

  The redhead Henley has the hots for, and a few other people walk towards me. Oh lord. If Jefferson decides to come and have a look, he’s going to absolutely fucking lose it. She’s changed her clothes and there’s no denying she looks good. She’s wearing tight leggings and a tank top. I would definitely go there if she wasn’t one of my students.

  Sure, she’s not my type but I appreciate a good-looking woman when I see one.

  Especially good-looking women who don’t have blonde hair.

  More and more people start to turn up, eager and raring to go.

  Two minutes to go.

  I glance down at my clipboard and have a quick head count of the bodies in front of me. I don’t have any names but I have a number of students I’m expecting to turn up.

  Everyone is here, except one.

  The one I am going to be kicking to the curb.

  I rub my hands together and a small smile spreads over my hat covered face.

  One minute.

  I push myself off the bench and walk closer to the rookies.

  They go silent and follow my every move with their eyes.

  Thirty seconds.

  I look down at my watch one more time and start to countdown the last ten seconds in my head.

  Five, four three-

  “I’m here,” a girl shouts from across the field. “I’m here.”

  I whip my head up, nearly giving myself whiplash in the fucking process.

  The blonde gets closer, her ponytail swinging in the breeze as she runs towards me.

  She gets closer and I nearly lose my shit.

  Rory fucking Holmes.

  How is this even possible? She moved to England to study over there. I’ve not seen this girl in what, five years. How the fuck is she now standing in front of me. How the fuck is she now my student?

  I look down at my watch.

  Thank fuck for that.

  I don’t think I’ve ever been relieved about not having to make an example out of someone. Sure, I’ve not seen her for years but fuck that would have been hard.

  “You’re lucky,” I grunt.

  She stands next to the redhead and looks me directly in the eyes, realisation overcoming her entire body. Or hits her straight in the fucking face like a ten-tonne truck.

  Yeah, that is exactly what my face looked like a few seconds ago.

  She has just noticed that her instructor is me, Theodore Riley her former best friend.

  “One more second and you would have been out,” I say as I walk towards her. I stop directly in front of her and hold the clipboard down by my side.

  Her
chest rises and falls and sweat pools down her neck. It’s not that warm so she must be nervous.

  Well that makes two of us.

  I scan her body and curses fly through my head left, right and centre.

  How is it possible for one person to get fucking hotter?

  Her body is strong, petite and curvy. Fuck those curves.

  I am a sucker for a woman with curves and Rory definitely has them, in all the right places.

  In all the places my hands would like to explore.

  I clench my fists and my jaw locks as I try to control the blood that is currently rushing to the southern hemisphere.

  Not today. Not here. Not ever.

  “I’m sorry, The-Sir,” she quickly recovers and adverts her eyes elsewhere.

  Nice save.

  I look at her a few seconds longer, as I try to regain my composure before I move down the line of rookies.

  “Punctuality.” I emphasise. “Punctuality is rule number one. Break it and you’re out.”

  A few people gasp and whisper at my words before they go quiet again.

  “Rule number two.” I stop and remove my baseball hat and throw it on the bench behind me, “Respect is earned not given.”

  I turn around and walk towards the bench I was leaning against before the rookies arrived.

  “Number three,” I pause, “Work hard or fuck off. You’re not wanted here if you aren’t going to give it your all. You’re not wanted here if you’re not going to push yourself to the breaking point.”

  I hold my hand up in the air to demand silence as a few of the rookies start to mumble, “Three simple rules. Be on time, respect those around you and try your best. Forget one and you’re gone.”

  I spend the remainder of the introductory session going over the programme for the next few months. I am responsible for training them physically and introducing them to the intelligence side of things. If they want to be on my team, they need to be able to do both. There’s only room for three more people on my team, the rest, if they succeed, will have to work within a different department.