Miss Classified (Book 3 of the Miss Series)

Four:

Noah

Aimee is quite adorable. Don't get me wrong. She's not my type, but she thinks I can't shoot to save my life. Well, let's just be honest here. I was missing on purpose. It's almost impossible, as a beginner, to land five bullets in a row in the exact same range. The target, shaped with the silhouette of a man, has five bullet holes in the left shoulder. Not in the same place, which I did on purpose, but roughly the same vicinity. Aimee can't know how experienced I am with weapons. It would cause too much suspicion - suspicion I cannot afford at this moment.

I walk into my house, having already dropped Aimee back at the stage, I drove home, alone. It's off to the club tonight again. I quickly change into my favourite set of clothing. My signature leather jacket, my black tee shirt and my black, partly ripped jeans, and I throw on my black nike sneakers. I ruffle my hair, making it messy. It's a wild and curly brunette colour, and it seems that the girls like the style.

I smirk and walk downstairs. My phone rings and I almost groan.

"Sir." I say into the phone. I can already anticipate his next move.

"Mr James. Report."

"In progress. Everything still according to plan." I state. That seems like enough.

"Good work. Continue on. This can take you to the next level, if you play your cards right." The phone beeps. He's ended the call. This is important. This could make or break me.

Now, for the fun part. I grab my car keys and drive to my favourite club, which has a ton of security, and no paparazzi, which is exactly why it's my favourite place to go. I walk inside, as the bouncers nod me through. I am a regular- they know me all too well. I head over to the bar and order tequila shots.

When I'm almost drunk, and lift up my finger to order another shot, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I smirk. This is the same routine every time I come here. Order drinks, sit at the bar, feel a tap on my shoulder and then around and find a beautiful supermodel-like woman staring at me. I slowly turn around and the smirk drops almost instantly.

Standing in front of me, dressed in white jeans and a black leather jacket and black high heeled ankle boots is a woman I didn't think I would meet here. She's modest, and no cleavage is showing, which is contrary to almost every other woman in the club, yet still looks absolutely beautiful, stands none other than Aimee Johnson, with her hands on her hips.

The shots, which turned from one into five very quickly, were placed in front of me. Aimee steps to the bar and shakes her head. "Offer these over to that group of girls would ya? Make sure they know they are from him." She winks at the bar tender while pointing her thumb at me and then she turns to me with her hands on her hips.

"What do you think you are doing? You have to work out tomorrow. You can't be drunk tonight. It's unbelievably bad for you and it's bad for your reputation. Do you still want a liver?" She asks me seriously. I burst out laughing.

"That's absolutely hilarious." She keeps a straight face. "You shouldn't be telling me about reputations when you lie to people for a living." Aimee glares at me.

"I do not lie. I play a role for my country. I am an actress, just like you." Ooh. She has a point.
"Except mine is for a worthy cause." She adds in. Ohh! Shots fired! I smirk.

"But I get paid. Generously." I comment, and she looks shocked. That's the first time I've seen her so. Aimee's mouth hangs open slightly. She recovers quickly though and shakes her head.

"Money isn't everything Noah. Thank goodness for that. If it was, we would've lost everything a long time ago." She smiles. "I'm leaving. I absolutely hate clubs." She squirms. "No more drinking. I expect you to be sober and if you aren't, we are going to be doing things which will make you regret choosing to be trained by a spy, and more so than usual, and the hangover will only make them worse." She threatens and grabs her bag. She exits the bar, and I shake my head. She is infuriating. How dare she tell me what to do? She has absolutely no right.

I order another, but the bartender ignores me and I huff. I pay the bill, wink at the girls and follow Aimee out. I catch the sight of her leather jacket and dark hair, as she climbs into a cab, and then, she drives away. I huff. What now?

~~~~~~~
Aimee

I take the cab to my parent's house. I usually have dinner there in the evenings. My mom insists. I look at the time. 19:30. I'm half an hour late. Stupid Noah.

I look down at my attire. I suppose it works with my cover. The hardest part about being a spy is that no one can know you are a spy. Not even my family. I will have to tell them one day, because keeping it a secret is absolutely exhausting. My cover is that I am a chemical engineer who travels around the states to give lectures on renewable energy and the future of the plastic industry. It's not a lie. I did study engineering but I got bored, and I joined the American army. From there, I was handpicked to join the CIA, and unusually, the NSA, for when I need to work in America. I have lectured once or twice when my parents started to get suspicious. My commanders in the NSA pulled some strings. The cover gives me an excuse for my travel, but my parents just don't know it's usually international travel. The hardest part of my job is keeping the secret from my family. My mom, I think, suspects something, and my step-dad looks at me puzzled when they ask about my career. They know I'm not telling them the whole truth. My heart crushes with guilt though, every time I tell them I am going to a different state, and meanwhile, I am going to an overseas country, where I risk my life with every role I play.

I open the front door with my house keys, and walk inside. My little sister, from my mom's second marriage, runs and flings herself into my arms. She is ten this year. We are sixteen years apart. I'm 26 this year. "Aimee! How are you?" She hugs me tightly and I laugh and ruffle her hair, which is tied into pigtails.

"I am very good thank you and you Carrie?" I ask and put my arm sprints what shoulder as we talk and walk together to the kitchen.

"Aimee!" My mom yells, smiling widely while flinging the spatula in the air. A piece of carrot flies off it and hits my step-dad, Carrie's dad, in the face. He laughs and eats it. I walk to my mom and hug her tightly. My stepdad, who I would consider my real dad, more so than my biological father, joins in the hug and kisses my head. "We missed you pumpkin."

"Missed you too." I didn't tell them I arrived yesterday, but I smiled and happily ate supper with them.

My biological father was a major in the army. He was good at it too. He wasn't a good father though, and that's putting it extremely lightly. He might have been good at his job, but to me, he was never a good man. However, he was murdered a few years ago, and they closed up his case, concluding that it a cold one. In some sort of weird way, I wanted to relive his legacy. While he might not have been a good father by any means, he was an excellent military leader, and I guess being in the army made me feel close to him, in at least one aspect of our lives. From there, I am proud to say I was handpicked to join the NSA, as well as the CIA. Unusual? Yes, I know. They tell me my case is a unique one and they need me for missions not only inside, but also outside the United States. This is because I am deeply involved in combating a terrorist organisation, which not only works inside the States, but also all over the world. I need federal and international jurisdiction. So here I am, a doubling agent, but not in the bad way.