Harry Styles, a secret service agent working for British intelligence is tasked with finding the killer after a series of brutal but calculated murders across Europe. His mind is sharp, he's smart, arrogant and works with a precision that leaves no...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HARRY STYLES
"Morning ladies," My voice echoed through the room when the doors swung open, revealing my favourite grumpy arseholes, all working away at their miserable desks.
A few heads turned and there were a few murmured greetings and good mornings, guys that were used to my morning greeting and were definitely fed up with it by now. It was a Monday morning, nobody wanted to be here and everyone was in a mood. I was in a bad mood, given I had woken up to my computer being stolen, something I could not let anyone know about, I would probably be shot on sight. There was way too much classified information on it, I just had to find it and get it back before anyone else realised I didn't have it.
"Styles." A voice muttered from across the room, my boss, Marshall, stood with his arms folded beside the door of the briefing room. "You're late."
"Fashionably." I shrugged, moving the sunglasses that were perched on the tip of my nose to the top of my head using them to push back my hair that I hadn't yet tied up.
"You missed this morning's meeting.," My boss informed me, something I was more than well aware of. He began to walk over me to continue telling me off, but I paid no attention to him.
As I approached my desk, I saw my favourite work buddy. He was old, sweet, and definitely should have retired about ten years ago. I wasn't actually sure if he did any work, all I ever saw him do was drink way too many cups of black coffee and eat enough to feed a family of seven.
"What's for breakfast today, Keith?" I asked him, noseying at his desk as I passed. I could see two bacon rolls, a muffin, a croissant and a fresh cup of black coffee. I eyed it for a second to see if there was anything that I could grab.
"Don't you dare take my breakfast." Keith shot me a glare, swatting my hand away when I went to take the croissant off his desk.
I pouted out a frown. "But you love sharing."
He shoved my hand away, flipped me off and faced his desk again. "Go fuck yourself."
I blew him a kiss but left the poor guy alone. I was sure he loved me really but definitely hated me in the morning.
Desks lined the open workspace, the air carried the scent of fresh coffee and the tang of ink from fingerprinting equipment. I took a brief glance at the bulletin board decorated with maps, pins and strings, photos of people and locations for different cases people were working on.
I approached my desk, putting down my phone and my cup of coffee as I glanced up. At the desk opposite mine, a dark blonde mess of hair, a head faced down on the table, I swore I could smell the hangover radiating off him.
"Oh, someone's looking rough." I walked to Niall, giving him a pat on the back of his head. "You feeling alright, bud?"
There was a very long drawn out groan, followed by a raspy hum in response. "Mhm."
