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I made my way to the opposite side of the floor and opened the door to my new office. Inside was a large glass desk with an all-in-one computer monitor in the corner. A black leather, high-back office chair rolled in behind the desk, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows with a beautiful skyline view. I remember Derek telling me that the sunsets in this city were stunning, and I was glad I could take advantage of seeing them from my office window.
I dropped the folder from the briefing onto my desk, removed my leather jacket, and hung it behind my chair. Then, I stood by the windows, taking in the morning skyline while contemplating where to begin with this case.
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise? I didn’t know you were going to be our transfer. I knew we were getting an agent from DC, but I didn’t think it would be you, of all people.” I knew that friendly and familiar voice. I turned my head to see Derek Avery standing in the doorway, his arms crossed, leaning his shoulder against the frame.
Derek was wearing black jeans similar to mine and a black T-shirt that fit snugly to his broad shoulders. His dark brown hair was short on the sides and long on top, similar to my own style—except where mine was straight, his ended in tight curls.
We met during our college years in Baltimore, where we graduated simultaneously with our MBA Degrees, and while we left our college world as friends, we weren’t really that close and didn’t become best friends until years after, when I discovered that my Dad and his were working together. The two of them helped us get jobs with the CIA in DC, and from there, we spent a lot of our free time playing the wingman for each other.
We worked as partners on multiple assignments over the years before he was transferred to this newer Minneapolis Unit about six months ago. It was hard to say goodbye to a close friend when he moved, but we stayed in contact and planned to visit each other when we could.
I didn’t reach out to him when I received my transfer orders because I wanted to surprise him. I also didn’t want to tell him before I got here because if things fell through and plans changed, I didn’t want him to be left disappointed.
After I arrived, I had every intention of surprising him, but I ended up enjoying the quiet time to myself and just wanted to take advantage of it while I could—not that I didn’t like spending time with him. Hopefully, this transfer will end up being permanent and not temporary, so we can get back to hanging out like we used to.
“It’s good to see you again, Derek. How’s Minneapolis been treating you? The entire Unit misses you back in DC.” I turned and strode over to him, holding out my hand. He took it and pulled me into him, slapping me on the back of my shoulder in a guy hug.
“Well, it’s definitely not DC, I can tell you that much. In all honestly, I like it more.” He gripped my shoulder when he pulled back, “When did you get here?”
“About three weeks ago, but they gave me time to settle in before officially starting.” I shrugged like it was no big deal. But I knew what he was thinking before he even said it.
“You’re telling me you’ve been here for three weeks and haven’t reached out to me once?” He frowned. I knew I should have reached out to him.
“I intended to surprise you, and the move itself was overwhelming. It isn’t easy to leave a city of five years behind.” I was fortunate to have the apartment that the CIA provided for me, as packing up my life was far from easy. My parents were not pleased with me moving even farther away from them. I will need to go back and visit them once this case is over and take a real vacation.
“Well, I am definitely surprised, and that whole overwhelming move shit was me six months ago.” He shrugged it off, “So I get it, man. But now that you are here, we have some serious catching up to do.” Derek smiled, and I couldn’t help but agree with him.
“One hundred percent. These past six months have crawled by; you seem like you’ve adjusted well since you’ve been here, though.” He looked even better than when he left DC. We partied too much on the weekends, and I don’t think he got much sleep in general. He always looked tired and run down. Now, he looks great.
I gestured to the seat in front of my desk. With a brief nod, he crossed the room and took a seat. I walked around my desk, pulled out the black leather chair, and took my own seat, resting my forearms on the desk.
“Have you explored much of the city since you’ve been here?” He asked, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs. I knew what he was referring to; it wasn’t the city itself. He meant the nightlife and the women.
“Nothing outside of where my apartment is located in Uptown. I wanted to take the three weeks they gave me as a break from everything. A chance to disconnect and focus on myself for a bit.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame because it’s a party out here, and the women,” He blew out a low whistle, “I gotta tell you, man, they are just as perfect as back home. Maybe even a little better.” Derek was always focused on women. I ended up being his wingman more often than he was mine. While he would pursue any woman with a pretty face and two legs, I was always searching for something deeper and never quite found it.
“Is that so?” I leaned back in my chair, raising a brow and crossing my arms over my chest. “Are you offering to show me more of that side of this city then?”
Now that I've finished staying cooped up in my apartment, I'm ready to go out and have some fun. Derek smugly shrugged and laughed.
“Derek doesn’t even know how to get a woman’s number. Don’t trust him to get you laid here.” There was a lively chuckle as two Agents entered my office and came to stand beside Derek. The one who spoke held his hand out to me.
“Marcus King, and this here is Dean Holt,” I leaned forward across my desk and shook his hand, gesturing a curt nod to Dean simultaneously. I saw both of them standing in the briefing room when Conrad called our names. These were the other two agents with whom I would be working on this case.
Marcus and Dean both looked and carried themselves like your average college frat boys. They were both muscular with broad shoulders and lithe figures. Marcus looked almost boyish, with his dark, curly hair mussed on his head like he had just woken up and had a clean-shaven face free of any stubble. His skin was as smooth as a baby’s ass, and if I didn’t know his actual age, I’d assume he was still in high school.
Dean, on the other hand, looked older than Marcus. He had mid-length, dirty blonde hair that he had slicked back against his scalp, almost as if he had just run wet hands through the strands, and it stayed in place. They were about five-nine, a little shorter than Derek and myself, who stood at five-eleven.
They were both dressed the same, wearing black slacks and white dress shirts. Their badges hung around their necks on silver chains. The buttons at the top of their shirts were left undone, revealing the collars of their white t-shirts underneath, and their sleeves were rolled up past their forearms.
The office had no official dress code, at least not one that Derek or I ever cared to follow. I could dress up if necessary, but no one has ever required it. I’d rather be comfortable at work than be stuck in a suit.
“Atlas Jensen, a pleasure to meet you both.”
“Fuck, here we go…” Marcus blew out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He shook his head and couldn’t hold back the sarcastic chuckle that escaped him.
“Got a problem with the bro squad, Avery?” Dean commented as if what he had just said was not embarrassing and completely stupid. Bro squad? Did I hear that right?
