“Sit down, Nate,” Weston laughed, shaking his head in amusement.

Division Six was a fantastic opportunity; he would get direct field experience, and they also had specialised areas which they could train you in. Nate wanted to be a sharp shooter and was incredible with long-range shooting.

“Okay, so they want you from Monday. You’ll report to Officer Tate at 9 a.m. sharp. Don’t be late. Here’s your file, make sure you read it,” Weston stated, handing Nate a brown envelope.

“Yes, sir, and thank you, sir,” Nate answered, saluting respectfully, yet grinning moronically.

“Okay, Nate, you go enjoy the food. I need to speak to Ashton in private,” Weston instructed, nodding for him to leave. I slapped Nate another high-five on his way past, silently praying that I got something as good as his. Officer Weston waited until the door closed before he spoke. “Ashton, you’ve been requested for something important. You’re not going to like this,” he winced, shaking his head.

My heart sank at the look on his face. This obviously wasn’t something good. “Okay, sir, I’m listening,” I said confidently. I was up for any challenge they could throw at me. I worked hard and it paid off. I had graduated first in every assessment, apart from long-range shooting, in which I came a close second to Nate. I held five different department records, including hand-to-hand combat, tactical planning, and hostage management. No one had ever graduated with the honours I had.

He sighed and held a brown envelope towards me. Frowning, I took it and tore it open eagerly, finding a police file inside for an Annabelle Spencer. I flicked it open curiously, not having a clue what this was about. On the first page, there was a photo of her. She was incredibly beautiful. According to this, she was nineteen and a college student.

I glanced up at Weston. “Who’s this?” I asked, confused as to why he had given me this girl’s file.

“That is the daughter of an extremely important man. She’s Annabelle Spencer, daughter of Senator Tom Spencer,” he said respectfully.

My interest was instantly piqued. Tom Spencer was a Presidential candidate who was expected to take over the oval office come the election later this year; he was highly respected and, from what I’d heard, was supposed to be a great man.

“Okay, so why do I have her file?” I questioned, flicking through it and scanning the pages. She was recently expelled from Stanford. She had attended four other colleges in the last year and a half, and had been expelled from every one for violence or damage to property.

“When she was sixteen, she was abducted by Carter Thomas. He killed her boyfriend in a club and then held her against her will for almost a year. The only reason she was found was because the police raided his home for drugs and discovered her there. You do know who Carter Thomas is, don’t you?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at me.

I nodded quickly. Everyone knew who Carter Thomas was; he was the head of a crime syndicate and responsible for the deaths of almost a thousand people when he’d set bombs off in the middle of rush hour in four different subways simultaneously. Everyone knew it was him, but it could never be directly proven, and key witnesses or evidence had a strange habit of going missing just in the nick of time. He regularly ran drugs and was heavily involved in human trafficking from Romania.

“He’s currently serving a life sentence for the murder of Miss Spencer’s boyfriend, Jackson Roberts. She was a witness for the prosecution, and there was also evidence that has linked him directly to the murder. Everyone knows who he is and what he does, but he’s always slipped through our fingers. The murder of Jackson Roberts is the only thing that’s ever gotten as far as a trial. Him being convicted was one of the best things for our country,” Weston said, his expression hard.

“Okay, sir, so what does this have to do with me?” I asked, still not understanding why I was being told about this in the first place.

Weston sat back in his chair. “Well, Carter Thomas has an appeal coming up later this year. Apparently, some evidence may have been incorrectly collected or something. Miss Spencer was the only witness that made it to the trial the first time; there’s a good chance she may be called to give evidence again. There have been death threats made against her, most of them because of who her father is, but lately her family have been receiving threats which they believe are coming from Carter’s organisation.”

He seemed to be watching me, waiting for my reaction. I still didn’t get it. I’d been selected for a special assignment, yet he was telling me about some girl. What did this have to do with me? This wasn’t SWAT business.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m just gonna say it; she goes through bodyguards like you do cold beers. She gets assigned a new one, and within a week she makes them quit. They refuse to work with her. She’s a real livewire from what I understand, a real hard-ass bitch. But this girl is extremely important, not only because she may be required to give evidence against Thomas, but also as the probable future President’s daughter. Her father has requested someone who will be able to deal with her on a day-to-day basis. There’s a specific age bracket because they’ll be required to attend college with her and essentially be her shadow until the end of the court case.”

It suddenly dawned on me where this meeting was going. I stared at him in disbelief, shaking my head and throwing the file onto his desk. “That’s complete bullshit! I’m SWAT; I’m not some f**king babysitter!” I shouted, pointing at the file distastefully.