The Rookie Read online

  Our team currently consists of four men. We are lacking a woman’s touch.

  One of which could potentially be Rory.

  Fuck. Who am I kidding? Of course, one of the new team members is going to be Rory.

  She is fierce, tenacious, strong and intelligent.

  She is me, but with tits.

  Okay, she’s much more than just the female version of me but we’ve always had the same ideals. The same motivations. The same outcomes.

  At least until she decided to cross the pound and lose touch with me.

  Or I lost touch with her?

  All I know is that I need to be a good little FBI agent and do my job.

  Not her.

  2

  Rory

  I knock back my fourth vodka shot, my body temperature heating up more and more each time the liquid travels down my throat.

  My body heats up even more whenever I think about him.

  Theodore Riley. My former best friend.

  The only person I’ve ever loved.

  The only person I’ve ever wanted to be with.

  The person I left behind.

  The vibrations from the music sends shockwaves through my body. Why the hell did I let Charlotte, Lottie, convince me that going to Club Velvet on a school night, or I should say a work night, was a good idea.

  Tomorrow is our first proper day of training and the thumping in my head is already telling me that I am going to be fucking hungover and useless to the world.

  “I can’t believe you were nearly late,” Lottie says as she orders another four shots from the bar.

  This girl is going to be the death of me.

  I sink back my fifth shot and slam the glass on the bar, “I needed to use the bathroom and there was a queue,” I shout above the music, “What else was I supposed to do?”

  She laughs, “Piss yourself, I don’t know. Better than being late. You heard the man, if you’re late, you’re out.”

  I am well aware what Theodore said. I am always aware of what Theodore says.

  “And don’t even get me started on our instructor,” Lottie say as she pretends to fan her face, “He is drop dead gorgeous.”

  You’ve got that right.

  “Did I mention that I know who he is?” I ask as Lottie throws her shot to the back of her throat.

  She coughs and splutters the vodka everywhere. “You fucking what now?” she manages to get out as vodka drips down her chin.

  I laugh, “That’s Theodore Riley.”

  Lottie eyes double in size and her mouth parts as realisation overcomes her whole body. “Wait, the Theodore Riley, the one you ran away from to study in England?”

  I nod.

  For good reason.

  “The Theodore Riley you’ve been in love with since forever?”

  I nod again, “The Theodore Riley, I used to be in love with,” I correct her.

  If you say so Rory.

  She laughs, “As if that is in the fucking pas--.”

  Lottie stops mid-sentence and her mouth practically drops to the floor. I follow to what her eyes are locked on and my mouth follows suit, nearly taking my whole body to the floor with it. Or it could be the several shots of vodka swimming through my blood stream right now.

  Can someone please tell me why Theodore Riley is here, in the club, that I am in, looking sensational in a fitted white shirt and navy slacks rolled up to his ankles.

  Oh lord, I think this crush may still be a thing.

  Who am I kidding? This crush has always been a thing.

  “Who is that with him?” Lottie asks as I look to the man standing next to Theodore.

  “Henley Jefferson,” I say.

  She whips her head around, hitting me with her long red hair as she faces me, “How do you know that?” she questions.

  How do I know that indeed? Should I admit to her that I may have stalked Theodore’s social media sites a few times when we were in college. Actually, the way she is looking at me right now tells me that she already knows the answer.

  “Shall we go and say hello?” She asks.

  I shrug, “Do you think that is appropriate?” I question. “I mean he is technically our boss.”

  Please agree with me. Please agree with me. Please agree with me.

  She slaps her lips together, making a loud popping noise as they hit against each other, “Okay, so plan B. We make them want to come to us.”

  Oh wonderful. Lottie’s plan B’s always involve us hunting down a good-looking man to use as our toy for the evening. A man Lottie usually ends up going home with which means I have to stay away from the apartment until she is done with her extra-curricular activities. Charlotte is a bit of a fireball, a vixen if you will. Matches her red hair perfectly.

  Lottie jumps up, straightening her barely there black mini dress before downing another shot, I don’t remember her ordering. She motions for me to do the same.

  I take one more drink of the hangover, inducing shot before pulling myself from the chair. I too am wearing a barely there outfit. One wrong move and I’ll be flashing this whole club my goodies. I’ve opted for a red dress that clings to my body perfectly. I run my hands down my curves and flatten out my dress before Lottie yanks my left arm and pulls me towards the dance floor.

  She settles on a spot before discreetly tilting her head to one side. I follow to where her head tilted and my eyes fall on Theodore and his three friends, one of which is Henley. Henley’s eyes are on us. I quickly look away and focus back on Charlotte. The DJ changes the song, and everyone cheers. The song is now sensual and sexy.

  I’m pretty sure Lottie had something to do with this.

  She swings her body and shakes her curves as she moves with the beat of the song. I lack the confidence Lottie has so it always takes me much longer to get my head in the game.

  I take a deep breath and give myself a quick internal pep talk and start to move my body. I am not as attractive as Lottie and she has a much hotter body than me, but I can definitely hold my own. I’m not disgusting, don’t get me wrong, I just don’t think I’m considered beautiful. At least I’ve never been told those words.

  Really?

  I know a women’s worth is not determined by being called beautiful, or sexy or even intelligent, but it would be nice once in a while to hear someone other than your female best friend and maybe the odd sleazebag trying to get into your pants to utter those words.

  I may be a strong, independent woman but I am a hopeless romantic.

  Unfortunately, I long for those things. I long for love.

  “I am going to get some fresh air,” I shout to Lottie above the music.

  She nods and waves me away as a tall brunette comes up behind her and grabs her hips.

  Well shit. I better find somewhere else to go tonight.

  I have no problem with Lottie having sex in our apartment, but at this moment in time I don’t really want to hear it. I mean it could have something to do with the fact that I’ve not had sex in two years.

  Or the fact that I’ve not had good sex, in well, forever.

  I walk towards the double doors at the back of the club that open onto the outside terrace. I push the doors open and walk over to the marble wall and sit on it, crossing my one leg over the other.

  I love Washington D.C.

  It’s my home, my sanctuary, my safe place.

  Moving away seemed like a good idea at the time, like you had any other choice, but I am definitely happy to be back home.

  I belong here.

  I may not have anything left here, but it is still home.

  I smile and observe the view, taking in the well-known landmarks that everyone knows and loves.

  Note to self, go on a tour around D.C.

  I spend a few more minutes admiring the view before an all too familiar voice is pulling me out of my trance.

  I turn around and I’m met with that all too familiar face.

  Theodore.

  “Rory,” he says as he
takes a sip of his drink. It looks like scotch, but I could be wrong.

  “Theodore,” I respond as I push my body up off the marble wall.

  Theodore’s eyes track my every movement.

  “Just Theo,” he grunts. “It’s just Theo now.”

  I laugh, “Okay, just Theo,” I go to walk past him before a firm, but gentle hand is gripping my wrist and pulling me back towards him.

  I’ve wanted to be this close to him for years.

  “What are you doing here?” he questions, looking me directly in the eye.

  Has he always been this intense?

  Has he always had that speck of yellow in is emerald green eyes?

  Theodore clears his throat as I get lost in his eyes.

  Oh shit, he asked me a question. What was it again?

  “What do you mean?” I ask, throwing a question right back at him.

  He grunts before taking another sip of his drink. Being this close I can now confirm that he is in fact drinking scotch.

  “You moved to England. Why are you home? Why are you here?”

  I crease my eyebrows and look up at him, I forgot how fucking tall he was. I’m wearing six-inch heels and he’s still towering over me. Was he this tall in high school? Surely not.

  “I always intended to come home, Theodore. I just didn’t know when that would be.”

  “Theo,” he growls.

  I shake my head and hold my hands up in front of my face, “Sorry, old habits die hard.”

  That is such a lie. I will never call him Theo. He’s always been Theodore to me and that is the way it is going to stay.

  “Why the academy?” he asks as he walks over to the marble wall and leans against it, placing his now empty drink next him “Why now?”

  What is this, fifty questions?

  So intrusive.

  If he wanted to know these things about me, he should have stayed in contact.

  Or maybe I should have stayed here instead of running three thousand miles away to get away from him. Okay I admit it, I needed to get away from him for a reason, but that is a story for another time. I am not ready to open wounds that have barely, if at all, healed.

  “Lottie and I were approached and thought we would give it a shot.”

  “Lottie?” he questions.

  “The girl I was with.” That’s very presumptuous of me to assume that he was even looking, or even noticed me inside the club.

  “The redhead you were dancing with just now?”

  Confirmation.

  So, he was watching me inside. Interesting. Very interesting.

  I nod.

  He smiles, “Watch that one, Jefferson has his eyes on her.”

  I smile and walk closer to him, “I think he should be the one watching out for her. Vixen is her middle name.”

  “Just how he likes it,” he assures me.

  I wet my lips, “Just like everyone else likes it,” I say.

  He raises his dark eyebrow and looks directly at me, “Not everyone,” he says pushing himself up from where he was just sat down.

  What is that supposed to mean? Is that Theodore’s way of telling me that he has no interest in her?

  “What do you mean?” I question.

  I don’t know why I’m asking him that question, but I’m intrigued. Curious even.

  He slips his hands into his pockets, “Not everyone likes redheads.”

  “And you don’t?”

  He looks me up and down before wetting his lips, my eyes glued to every movement, “I guess not.”

  He nods his head towards me and walks back into the club.

  I guess not.

  I guess freaking not.

  Those three words swim through my head, making everything fuzzy as the words continue to repeat themselves.

  He must have something wrong with him as everyone likes Charlotte.

  I can’t believe he just dropped that bombshell and walked away from me.

  My phone beeps pulling my attention away from my thoughts.

  Lottie: I’ve scored me a sexy brunette. Apartment occupied. Later bitch xo

  I laugh before typing a quick response.

  Rory: You’ve got two hours and then I’ll be home. Make sure you make him beg.

  A few seconds later Lottie responds.

  Lottie: Always.

  I laugh before placing my phone back into my clutch.

  Great, now I have two hours to kill before I can go home. I mean I could stay here and get fucked, not in the way I want but that is probably not wise when I need to be at the academy for 9:00am tomorrow.

  I suppose now is the best time for me to have a self-guided tour around some of the tourist hotspots of D.C. I’ve not done it since I was in high school, so now is a good as time as any.

  I slip off my six-inch heels and replace them with my emergency pair of ballet flats that I always carry around with me in my clutch.

  A girl always needs to be prepared. You never know when you need to run from someone, run after someone, or take a self-guided tour of Washington D.C. at midnight on a Monday.

  3

  Theodore

  Bang.

  Bang.

  Bang.

  I angle the gun at the red circle on the target in front of me and close my one eyes as I aim.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  I come here every morning and work on my target practice. I don’t need to, but I want to.

  I like to.

  I’m confident in my abilities, I’m confident in my skills, but staying on top of my game requires constant hard work and dedication.

  It requires the motivation to keep working on something despite not needing to. This is one of the reasons why I am so good at what I do. I know just because I can do something doesn’t mean I can’t do it better.

  I strive for perfection.

  I strive to continue being on top.

  On top of who is the question.

  I strive to continue being the best.

  I lean back and remove the mandatory, even though I don’t need them, safety goggles and press the bottom that sends the target paper I’ve just been shooting at back to me. The paper moves and a few seconds later I am pulling the paper from the machine holding it in place.

  Six perfect shots.

  Six perfect hits.

  Still got it. Even after too many scotches and a sore head. The sore head is not from the scotch may I add.

  Oh no, that is the sole responsibility of a curvy little blonde that’s been fucking with my head ever since I laid eyes on her fucking ponytail running towards me yesterday.

  “So, who is the blonde?” Fin asks as he walks over to me with a pistol in his hand. Fin is almost as dedicated as me when it comes to target practice.

  I shake my head, “Fin, man, I have no idea what you’re on about. I am going to need more information than that.”

  “Bullshit, Riley.”

  Bullshit indeed, but I need to keep some cards close to my chest.

  “The one you stalked onto the terrace last night,” Thomas says walking over to us.

  Where the fuck did he come from? It looks like we all had the same idea to come here this morning.

  “I did not stalk any blonde onto the terrace last night,” I protest.

  Stop lying to yourself Theodore.

  You noticed her as soon as she entered the club and you couldn’t take your eyes off her the whole time.

  Thomas and Fin laugh and shake their heads, “Yeah, alright Theo, you believe that.” Thomas says.

  I don’t even know why I am holding back the information from these guys. They are some of the smartest people in the country, it would take them about thirty seconds to find out all the information they wanted.

  “Her name is Rory Holmes,” I announce as I throw my target sheet into the trash can below the counter.

  “Wait.” Fin says removing his safety goggles and throwing them onto the counter. “The girl who went to England?” he pauses, “The girl you
were best friends with in high school?”

  I nod.

  When the fuck did I tell them about her? Hell, who even knows. We, mostly I, used to get so fucked in college I could have told them absolutely anything.

  That or they’ve already ran a background check on her.

  “You are so in the shit,” Thomas says with a big smile on his face

  I scrunch my face, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I question.

  Why do they have such little faith in me? Just because Rory and I were best friends once upon a time, does not mean we are going to be that way again. She left me. She ran. She made her choice years ago and that choice did not include me. I’ve accepted that, I’ve moved on.

  She didn’t want me.

  She decided that her life was better without me in it, so from that day I promised myself that I would never allow myself to be hurt by Rory Holmes again.

  Hence why I am perfectly confident and perfectly content in saying that Rory Holmes is nothing more than my student. A new recruit. A Rookie. Someone I am responsible for, for the next six months and nothing more.

  Just another meaningless girl.

  Okay Theo, believe that.

  “Good luck buddy,” Thomas says slapping his right hand on my back. “You’re going to need it,” he chuckles before he leaves the shooting range with Fin hot on his heels.

  I will not be friends with Rory Holmes.

  I will not engage.

  I will not go there.

  I shake my head, “Hell I can’t go there,” I mutter to myself before locking away the guns and leaving the room.

  I walk towards the indoor training room, grabbing a few things from my office beforehand. I walk into the room and an involuntary groan leaves my lips.

  Rory fucking Holmes.

  Rory fucking Holmes bent over.

  Stretching.

  Ass in the air.

  Yoga pants.

  Tits spilling out of her sports bra.

  What is this woman trying to do to me? First, she turned up yesterday all sweaty, then last night at Club Velvet she blew my mind, and nearly my load, in the dress she was wearing and now this.