Destroying the Prince (Babysitting the Prince book 2)

Chapter 17.

Chapter 17.

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My first week back at work was not very busy or intense, it was actually quite boring. Danica insisted on having me do paperwork and help the rest of our team through assignments by watching the surveillance and giving them information about what was going on and where possible perpetrators were as they moved through buildings or spoke to leads they didn't trust. I guess I understood, she was not fully comfortable with me in the field because she did not trust that I would listen to her if she said something. I did not trust it too, but by the end of the week I was willing to put my better judgement aside and listen to her if it meant getting some better work. I had only been out of the office or surveillance van with the team once and it was because we were dealing with a weapon-heavy gang and she knew I was the best with weapons, both recognising and using them. She had hesitantly asked me to come along and I was all too happy to do it. It had not been as fun or interesting as I expected, but it never was and at least I got to do some sneaking and managed to fight guns out of a couple of guys' hands before I knocked them out. Danica called me stupid for that afterwards, but they weren't very good fighters and I had noticed immediately when we spotted them they were not very swift with their weapon handling so I was certain I could take them out without getting shot.

I scrolled down through the document on the screen as I proof-read it. I was back at my desk writing up a report and it was Saturday afternoon. I did not have to be at work because what I was doing could be done by anyone and Danica had assured me that my joining in the field was a one-time thing until she was sure she could trust me, but our Chief seemed happy to have me on call in case they did need me and I had nothing better to do anyway. Work was also the only place Adrian was not allowed into the building and thus could not bother me. I had not been home when he came over to my house, but he had left letters under the door that I just threw away without reading once I saw his handwriting on them.

I submitted the work before I glanced over at the clock. It was just past 3 pm. I could do a couple more write-ups in the next three hours... I groaned lightly as I decided to do that but looked at my phone when it buzzed. I usually only got texts from Maximilian who send memes at random times of the day. I had kept to my word though, I usually replied with a single emoji until he began sending annoyed texts which then caused me to continue sending the single emojis to annoy him more. It was not him this time, the number was one I did not know but when I opened the text I raised my brows glancing around.

'Interrogation room A3.'

The message did not contain a name or an indication of what I was supposed to do with that but I stood up tucking my gun into its holster just in case I need it. I walked through the building wondering who had texted me and saw nothing out of the ordinary like anyone watching me move. I jogged into the A section of the building and slowed down to check my phone again but when I looked at my messages the text was gone. I smiled remembering Diego showing me how to do that a couple of years ago. Was it him? I doubt. I missed my cousin but it did not make sense that he would come here to meet me. I pushed the door open once I reached it without knocking, and kept my hand on my gun just in case but I relaxed my grip when I spotted the man on the other side of the room.

"Ah, Aria. You look well."

"Arthur?" I questioned in surprise as I let the door shut behind me. He was one of the directors of the agency, my father was too. The last time I had seen him was my second level test. Directors barely communicated or were seen by anyone in the agency. When we received missions, it was done in a way similar to the text I had just received where it could be looked at only for a few minutes before it disappeared and it never contained sender information, there was never a way to trace it other than a code hidden somewhere in the document to show that it was from the agency. I froze. "Is my dad okay?" It seemed the only possible explanation for why he would be there in person to see me when I was no longer working for him.