25Chapter One: Why her?
###
I love my converses. The way they silently trod on the carpet as I flashed my ID at the flashy girl behind the desk. Lucy crossed her legs and gave me a nod, a small grimace on her face as she saw the coffee in my hand.
Lucy never did understand why I loved the darn stimulant so much.
The answer was in her question.
Carefully cradling the Styrofoam cup as if my life depended on it, I waited behind the influx of people gathered outside the elevators. Finally the impending bing! told me my ride was here. I followed the crowd, carefully tucking my elbows to the side as I remembered the one time I hadn't done so, and my cup had gone caterwauling into the air. Damn the business woman and her 200 dollar suit. If she hadn't pushed me in the first place, I would've been 200 dollars richer.
Suffice to day, I learn from my mistakes.
Definitely.
I rode up fifteen floors before everyone had disappeared to their respective offices. Sighing a breath of relief, I reached out to press the ground floor button and watched as the doors slid close to cocoon me from the rest of the world.
That was until a hand suddenly shot out from nowhere and caught the doors just in time.
"Damn!"
My incensed whisper was lost in the throes of activity, as the doors slid open again and a tall, dirty-blond haired man stepped into the elevator. My heart fluttered as I recognised the identity of the man before me, now in the opposite corner avoiding my eyes.
Or maybe it was my imagination?
The Lucas Godsend (yes, his real name!) was famed for his cold, hard and fast attitude and his limited time for women. Chances were he didn't even know I was gawping at him and was instead running through the quotas of his next mission.
Because if you didn't know yet, you will now- Lucas Godsend was the youngest FBI agent, working as a senior operative, this side of the states. In the year I've been working with the FBI, I've only caught scant images of him either entering or exiting the boss's office, either confirming or informing of yet another success.
I was in awe of the man.
Unlike most of my female colleagues though, I had no wish to jump his bones at any given opportunity. What impressed me wasn't his suave words or cocky attitude but rather the way he just jumped from case to case as if he were a hurdler breezing through the park.
The dedication was admirable.
I was startled out of my reverie when the familiar bing! informed us that we had reached ground floor. Just like I expected, Lucas didn't budge but he did look up and scan the elevator. The moment he spotted my aqua knitted scarf and matching mittens, his lip curled causing a deep blush to work up my ears.
So what if I had bought them at Wal-mart? The price was indisputable!
Apparently Lucas with his sharp suits and trimmed hair thought that rather disagreeable. Either that or he was grimacing because he had to crick his neck downwards to catch glimpse of my five foot six frame. God knows this has happened in the past, with various men.
And then he spoke.
And I couldn't help but marvel at how cold, hard and fast it sounded, just like his outward appearance.
"Aren't you getting off?"
That was a rather rude thing to say, even if he chose to sing it in a lullaby. (Weird thought). I felt my offence radar blaring red and immediately went on the defence. I think it was a reflex mechanism installed in me after coming from a family of three brothers, and being constantly the brunt of their jokes.
"Why don't you?"
Now, that was rude! I strangely didn't feel relieved though. More like disappointed that the guy I had held in the highest of esteems turned out to be a jerk. What a wasted year of admiration.
Lucas, not knowing he'd just lost himself a fan, stepped forward slightly until his tense shoulders blocked my line of sight. I started to notice the little details, the ones you do, when you're scared or anxious. I noticed that his blue button-up shirt was unbuttoned at the collar. I noticed the way his adam's apple bobbed in his throat, igniting an unfathomable urge to lay open mouthed k-
Whoa.
What was I THINKING?!
"I suggest you move," Lucas suggested, "Before I physically move you myself."
I didn't doubt his intention, but what surprised me was how he was threatening an innocent civilian (and a woman!) with gross GBH. Our organization was meant to be full with the good guys, so this unorthodox method of dealing with a person surprised me.
And when I'm surprised, I tend to do things that I'm unaccountable for- like spilling my coffee all over his well coffered shirt. Déjà vu, much?
"I'm so sorry!" I said, with wide eyes. Lucas didn't respond, having chosen to jump back and incredulously eye his clothes with heightened anger. And then I finally understood why he had been so insistent that I removed myself from the elevator.
You see, our FBI homebase, was too high profile to claim a building as it's own. So instead, in the heart of Washington D.C., our cover was Orangina Juice Company, with a nice normal business up ahead but a high-tech elevator with the right codes punched in, travelled downward from the ground floor and into crime-fighting central itself.
The only thing vital before you punched the code in though, was that you were by yourself. And clearly Lucas and I weren't. As far as he was aware I was a homeless squatter who shopped at Wal-mart (not a big stretch to believe) and was refusing to leave him to it.
Uh-oh.
"Look," I said desperately. "I really am sorry. If I see you again, I'll promise to foot the dry-cleaners bill. Just that, I'm leaving okay? Look, I'm walking out those elevator doors right now…"
I blindly took a sharp turn from the elevator and continued walking. I wondered if Lucas Godsend was the type of person who used the internal database to his advantage, and hunted down stupid girls who knocked coffee all over the place. Then I wondered if he'd bring his gun along to put a bullet into my brain…
"You spilt coffee, bitch!" BAM!
One quick glance behind me told me that I was all alone in this long corridor. Feeling safe to halt, I lent back against the wall and gave a stern taking to my brain. I worked with the FBI, for god's sake. The days of imagining stupid scenarios had been left behind in my adolescence. I was twenty years old, for god's sake.
I had responsibilities to take care of now.
###
As Lucas changed his shirt by his locker, he played with the idea of finding that stupid girl via the internal database and putting a bullet through her brain. He had her coffee cup after all, having picked it up after she fled out of the elevator. And there was bound to be a few fingerprints he could lift from it and scan into the system.
It would all be so very easy…
His phone vibrated in his pocket, disrupting his fantasy, and Lucas answered with the blunt curtness he was famed for.
"Yes?"
"Godsend, we have news regarding the case. Meet me in my office in five minutes."
"I'll be there."
Checking his firearm was fully loaded, he tucked it into his waistband under his newly vetted shirt. He needed it for where he was going.
###
In the five years Lucas had known Nigel Harman; the only things he knew amounted to Nigel owned a dog, Terry and liked golfing in downcast weather.
Being a paradox, it said a lot about the man.
"Nigel," Lucas greeted as he seated himself before the silent being. "How's the wife?"
It was an age-old joke between the pair, an innocent quip about the lack of significant other in either of their lives. Lucas was too dedicated to share more than a one-night fling with a woman. Nigel rarely ventured out of the building, choosing to spend his nights over-seeing incoming cases. Neither man seemed too interested in venturing from a solitary life.
"Good, good. Would you like a coffee? Or tea, perhaps?"
The mention of coffee had Lucas on high alert. He scanned the small office in reflex, and Nigel watched surprised as his young colleague fingered the barrel of his gun just visible through his t-shirt.
"Brandy on the rocks will be fine," he said shortly, a choice that did not surprise Nigel in the slightest. Reaching for the decantent behind the desk, he poured out a glass for Lucas and then one for himself, schooling his expression into one of concern.
"All out of ice, I'm afraid," Nigel remarked, fighting to hold back a grin. "But I can provide the other thing you came here for." He nodded at the file in front of Lucas. Most of the information in there had been provided with courtesy of Lucas's partner, Brendan. Shame the nifty little twat had to nearly kill himself whilst gaining it though.
"The terrorist organisation known as HALO seems to be on the move. Their next meeting is at a rundown motel just outside of Chesapeake Bay, Virginia on the 24th of February. Brendan is out of the picture Lucas, so this undercover mission falls entirely on you. Do you understand?"
Lucas nodded grimly. He had survived before Brendan, and he certainly could now. If he missed the twat, then it was his problem not anyone else's. He was a seasoned player of the game; to give up because a chess piece had been taken from him was unthinkable. Lucas zoned in again as Nigel reached the end of his sentence.
"- you'll both be leaving tonight in a silver Audi."
"Both?"
Nigel mistook Lucas's confusion for something else.
"Look Lucas, I know you're a capable field agent and you think you can handle this yourself. But this is much bigger than we thought. You need a partner."
On cue, a timid knock sounded at the door. Lucas was too busy fuming to notice it. Instead he glared into the depths of the glass in front of him, still remaining untouched. The amber liquid mocked him, reflecting the light he failed to see in this situation. Nigel on the other hand, looked highly relieved, drumming his fingers into the desktop in a trait he normally despised.
"Thank god she's arrived! Come in."
Behind Lucas, the door opened quietly before shutting just as quickly. He refused to turn his head and look to see who it was, ill thoughts forefront in his mind. He stared at Nigel instead and calculated the beam on his face was too wide to be natural.
"Lucas, I'd like you to meet Ava Greene. Your new partner."
As instructed, he turned in his seat and stared at the back of a room. A slight woman with wayward hair and big, wide eyes smiled meekly at him. But yet the recognisation was instantaneous, even though her aqua scarf and mittens were missing from the equation.
It turned out Lucas Godsend didn't need to use the internal database anymore. The woman who had knocked coffee all over him and his new partner were the one and the same.
Shit.