Target

Chapter 01

I know I shouldn't be nervous but I am.

These meetings still manage to make my palms sweat and make my throat feel like it is closing in on itself.

Sitting cross-legged at the long conference table, I smooth down my black pencil skirt and interlace my fingers on my lap in an attempt to calm myself. I look down at my watch, scanning the information printed across the screen.

Name – Arla Dawson

Heart Rate – 116 BPM

Blood Pressure – 120/80 mm HG

Muscle health – High

Diet – Requires more protein and Vitamin A

Sleep – 8.43 hours

Status – Active

When I swipe left, a map of the building is displayed, with a blue light indicating where I am in relation to other agents, shown as green lights.

After swiping left again the digital time comes up and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

10:49 AM

That leaves exactly eleven minutes for me to pull myself together and stop stressing. Why was I so worried anyways? Was it because, even after being promised it will never happen when I took the job a year ago, there is still the slight chance it could be someone I know?

I mean, I was confident in my abilities after all the training I had undergone, and having proved myself over the past twelve months time and time again, but could I really Target somebody I have a personal connection to?

I think the main reason these meetings give me jitters and cause my sweat glands to go into hyper-drive is because you never know what you are getting yourself into; the anticipation of what is to come overwhelms me immensely.

But hidden underneath all of that is the adrenalin rush that I have grown to love.

With five minutes to go, I take out my phone to inspect the thin crack running along the bottom edge of the glass. Tracing my index finger along the dent causes me to shiver and I suppress the thoughts threatening to fill my mind. I've been meaning to get it fixed for quite some time now, but just haven't got round to it. At least that's what I tell myself.

Clicking the 'on' button, my background becomes visible, showing a picture of Mum, Dad, Brett and I, huddled together, all smiling brightly, except for Brett who is kissing my cheek. The picture was taken the day of my graduation, and despite the large mortarboard on my head, we all look normal for once. And happy.

The photo acts as a reminder for me of my old life, Old Arla Dawson.

I brush my thumb over Brett's face and smile. When the picture was taken we had been celebrating our six-month anniversary and he had just given me a silver necklace with a copper heart-shaped pendant that has our initials engraved on the back.

As I reach beneath my top to find that very pendant, my watch beeps with an alarm set for 11:00am. My heart rate must increase rapidly, but before I can check, my thoughts are interrupted.

As if on cue, Parker Love bursts through the door carrying his usual brown briefcase and mug of coffee. His brown hair is disheveled and falling against the rim of his thick glasses perched on the bridge of his nose and his tie is loose under his chin.

I raise my eyebrows at his appearance but before I can comment he cuts in.

"Shut it Dawson. I don't need your remarks this morning."