Playing the Game Read online

  “Why don’t we order in? Is sushi okay, or do you want something else?”

  Randi wrinkled her nose. “Let’s cook dinner together like we used to do,” Randi said, getting up off the couch.

  “What? Cook? Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?” Olivia laughed.

  “I’m serious. Do you remember when we used to attempt to make all kinds of different cuisines?”

  “Yeah, we burned or butchered most of them.”

  “We still had fun.” Randi smiled.

  “I’d rather order sushi or go to that new seafood house. I hear it’s really good.”

  Deflated, Randi sighed inwardly. “The seafood house is fine. It’ll do me good to get some fresh air anyway.”

  *

  Berkley pulled her truck into an open parking space on the campus of the State of Texas Law Enforcement Academy, located in San Antonio. There were several buildings scattered around, as well as a dormitory, a cafeteria, an outdoor range, a driving training lot, a PT obstacle course, and two tactical courses. She grabbed her gear bag from the passenger seat and got out, pressing the lock button as she walked away. Here we go.

  Once she was inside the main building, she found out there were two full-time, live-in police academy classes going on, as well as various training sessions like the one she was there for. The academy was only a couple hours away, but she’d opted for a hotel room a few miles away instead of staying on campus, which her department had paid for.

  “You’re all checked in, Officer Ward. Orientation for SWAT Training is in room D11. They should be starting in about twenty minutes,” the administrator said, handing her an ID badge with her picture on it, along with her name, department, and training class.

  Berkley remembered going through the academy there in what had felt like a lifetime ago as she stepped out of the office and headed off in the direction of building D. Not much had changed she noticed as she walked along the drab gray halls and dark blue floor. She checked her watch as she rounded the corner, finding the building she was looking for. Everything had come back to her like it was yesterday.

  “Are you here for SWAT?” a man with a deep voice asked. He was dressed in full tactical gear and had two silver bars stitched on his collar to indicate he was a lieutenant.

  “Yes, sir,” she replied.

  “We’re meeting right in here. It should start within the next fifteen minutes. You must be Berkley Ward,” he said, looking at her Richey PD t-shirt.

  “Correct.”

  “You’re the only female in this class. I had three last month.”

  Berkley nodded. She was used to it. There were only three other women at Richey PD, and she had been one of only four females in her academy class of thirty-five.

  “Go find yourself a seat, Officer Ward. It’s going to be a long day.”

  *

  The rest of the day went by in a blur as Berkley was fitted with her tactical gear, then spent the next six hours watching videos, taking notes, and reading about SWAT specific procedures. The class was told there would be a test on the procedures at the end of the week. They needed to be able to tell right from wrong in several situations, as well as write out a description of what procedure to use, and how to use it step by step for multiple scenarios.

  By the time she was leaving for the day, she was mentally exhausted. She knew the next day would be spent in the range and on the tactical course, which were more her thing. She’d never had issues with classroom work and taking tests; she just preferred to actually do the things herself, instead of reading or writing about them.

  “Hey…Ward, right?” a male voice called from behind her as Berkley walked down the hall.

  “Yeah,” she replied, turning around. One of her classmates was standing a few feet away. He’d been sitting next to her all day.

  “Heath Gore,” he said, sticking his hand out.

  Berkley sized him up as she returned the shake. He was the same height as her, which was short for a male, and skinny. Way too skinny to be on SWAT, in her opinion. He had mousy brown hair, cut short and neat, and brown eyes. She had a feeling he was a little younger than her as well.

  “Want to grab a beer?” he asked.

  Berkley hesitated, hoping he wasn’t hitting on her. With her looks, she might as well be wearing a t-shirt that said the word: LESBIAN across the front of it, but some men were completely clueless.

  “I promise I’m not trying to pick you up,” he laughed. “I just make friends easily and figure it would be good to have a buddy. It sounds like this week is going to be tough as hell.”

  “Yeah, it sounded a little like boot camp when the instructor was going over everything.”

  “Did you serve?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Wish I had though.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Is the Blue Eagle still open?” she asked, referring to the hole in the wall cop bar she went to when she was in the academy.

  “Yeah, that’s where I’m headed.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll meet you in like thirty.”

  “Cool,” he said, walking away.

  Berkley wasn’t sure what building she’d be in, so her truck was parked in a completely different area. As she passed by the dorms, she ran into a couple of female academy cadets who gave her the once over, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. She smiled thinly and kept walking.

  She reached her truck a minute later and headed over to the hotel to check in and put her stuff in her room. Then, she traded her Richey t-shirt for a slim-fitting, black one that hugged her ripped frame, before grabbing her keys and heading back out.

  *

  “I’m from Liberty PD,” Heath said as the bartender set two light beers down in front of them. “What about you?”

  “Richey,” she answered.

  “Where’s that at?”

  “Outside of Austin. Liberty is up by DFW, right?”

  “Yeah. It’s in the same circle,” he said.

  “I grew up in Dallas.”

  “Get out,” he said, surprised. “How did you wind up in Richey?”

  “I didn’t want to stay in the DFW area. I actually drove down to Austin to check out the area and I found out Richey was hiring. I really liked the small city atmosphere.”

  “Cool.” He nodded. “Are you staying in the dorms?”

  “No. I’m in a hotel up the street.”

  “Me too. I’m too old to share a room with someone.”

  Berkley laughed, thinking he was probably five or six years younger than her, and more than likely hadn’t been out of the academy that long.

  “Plus,” he continued, “I was just here three weeks ago for bomb squad training.”

  “Really?” she blurted, taken aback. She’d never known anyone who did both.

  “Yeah. We’re a small department, so a lot of us are cross-trained.”

  “I have a feeling this week should be easier than the last one,” she said.

  “Bomb squad was basically learning the techniques to defuse different types of devices, as well as manning the bomb robots. We did some tactical training, like clearing buildings and such, but most of it was about recognizing devices, seeing if you can defuse them, and clearing the device from the scene safely. This week will be a hell of a lot more physical,” he said, peeling the label from the bottle before taking a swig. “I have a feeling I’m going to get my ass kicked.”

  She nodded in agreement. He certainly would never get accepted for SWAT in her department because of his small stature, but he was obviously a good cop if he was training for both specialties. Richey was a small city compared to the large metropolises in the state, but she knew Liberty was much smaller, which made sense that they would cross-train. “It won’t be that bad,” she said, taking a long sip of her beer.

  “You must live in the gym,” he said. “You’ll get through fine.”

  Berkley chuckled. “
Feels like it sometimes. Doesn’t mean I’m not nervous, though. Brawn isn’t the same as brains.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have both. I’m sure you come from a much bigger department.”

  “True,” she said, finishing her beer. “I’m out of here. I need to get some dinner and go to bed. I work the dusk/dawn, six-to-six shift, so I feel like I haven’t slept in twenty-four hours.”

  “Oh, this week is going to mess you up. By the time you get on regular time, you’ll be going back to your shift.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “It’s going to play tricks on my brain for sure. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  *

  Randi lied on the massage table while the athletic trainer palpated her quad. Then, he put her leg through a few short stretches.

  “It feels fine,” she said.

  “Stay off of it tomorrow. I’m clearing you for light fitness on Wednesday, which means an exercise bike and an elliptical. Nothing more until Friday. We’ll re-evaluate then.”

  “Damn,” she grumbled. “Am I going to miss another game?”

  “Nah. I think you’ll be good to get some minutes Saturday, but you won’t start. By the middle of next week, you should be back to the full team practice but MJ has the final say.”

  “Okay,” she said, getting up.

  *

  As Berkley got into her truck, her phone vibrated with a text message from Randi.

  About yesterday…that can’t happen again. I’m glad you stopped it.

  I know. I agree, she messaged back. Then added, I’m not going to have an affair with you.

  I never said I wanted an affair to begin with, Randi responded.

  I’m glad we’re on the same page, Berkley replied.

  Me too. Be safe tonight.

  I’m not working, but thanks, Berkley texted before tossing her phone into the cup holder. “She makes me crazy!” she growled as she started the truck and drove away.

  31

  The next couple of days went by in a blur for Berkley. She was a perfect shot every time they were in the range, and she performed well on the tactical course, despite wearing fifteen extra pounds of gear. It was the end of the week when her nerves kicked in; they were running through live drills using rubber bullets. They couldn’t kill you, but they sure stung like hell. That was something she’d figured out right away after getting shot by a classmate during a drill when he missed her communication with the team and mistook her for the suspect. Instead of her vest, he’d hit her in the arm, which meant he wasn’t a good shot either.

  By the time the exam rolled around at the end of the week, she’d felt comfortable enough with the material, and had passed with one of the highest scores in the class.

  “Ward…a word, if you don’t mind,” the instructor said once most of the class had received their certificates and left. A few stragglers hung around, talking to each other.

  “Sure,” she replied, stepping to the side with him.

  “Heath Gore.”

  “What about him?” she asked, knowing he’d already left.

  “You two became pretty chummy during the week.”

  Her feet felt welded to the floor as her shoulders squared. “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing really, except he wouldn’t have made it through training without you.”

  “Is there a problem with helping someone who needs it?”

  “No. I’ve just never seen anyone do that before,” he said. “At least, not the extent you went with him. I was just curious why.”

  “Did you know he’s in an understaffed department with low funding? They offer the most money to the officers who cross-train. He was here a few weeks ago for bomb squad training as well. I figured if he was going to go back to his job doing SWAT work, he needed to be keen or he’d get himself killed. I just helped him read his surroundings a little better. That’s all.”

  The instructor nodded. “He’s a better cop because of you.”

  Berkley smiled, hoping he was right.

  “You’d make a damn good FTO.”

  “One day, maybe,” she replied. “I have to concentrate on SWAT at the moment.”

  Field Training Officers were completely in charge of training new hires who were fresh out of the academy. They were the ones who molded and shaped them into the officers they became. A bad FTO would more than likely have officers making mistakes down the road, or even get themselves shot because they had improper training. A great FTO would have officers who went up the ranks or went on to become detectives. She’d thought about it, but she’d need to become a sergeant first.

  “Just so you know, I noted it in my report to your captain.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  *

  During her ride back to Richey, Berkley thought about what the instructor had said to her. She’d never known her department to have a female FTO, so she had her work cut out for her if and when she decided to pursue that promotion, which would only be available after becoming a sergeant. Right now, she was SWAT certified, the first-ever female for Richey, and heading home to show off how much her hard work on the job and in the gym had paid off.

  *

  By the time Berkley arrived home, it was late. She was tired, but she knew her friends were both working. She put them in a group text and sent them a snapshot of her certificate and captioned it: Turning this in tomorrow!

  Garrett immediately called her.

  “Way to go!” he exclaimed when she answered.

  “Thanks. It wasn’t easy.”

  “We need to celebrate.”

  “I need to make it official first,” she laughed.

  “You’re back on tomorrow night, right?”

  “Yeah. Let’s hit the gym. Nine good for you?” she asked.

  “That works for me. Shit, gotta go do a traffic assist,” he replied hanging up.

  Dena had texted while she was on the phone, so she clicked on the message.

  Congratulations! I knew you could do it! Busy as hell tonight. Something is in the water around here! I’ll swing by tomorrow!

  And with that, Berkley unpacked her small suitcase and plopped down on the couch in front of the TV with a cup of coffee. She needed to stay up as late as possible to re-acclimate herself to being up all night.

  *

  Randi was happy to be back at practice mid-week, albeit, with minimal running and very few touches on the ball. The coach had made it clear for her to take it easy since it was her first session, which she found extremely difficult. Randi was a go hard or go home type of player.

  She tossed her gym bag into the passenger seat of her car and looked around the parking lot. Olivia was already gone, but Carrie was walking towards her.

  “Want to grab some lunch?” she asked.

  Carrie shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. All good,” Carrie said, getting into her car. She waved as she drove off.

  Randi got into her car and stared at the BMW logo on the steering wheel. She sighed, feeling the weight of what had happened with Berkley pressing heavily on her shoulders. She wished she’d told Carrie, or even her sister. But, she would’ve received a lecture, no doubt, and she was lecturing herself enough as it was.

  *

  The TV was blaring when Randi walked into the house from the garage. She walked through the kitchen, turning it down as she looked around for Olivia before heading to their room to put her gym bag away.

  “Hey,” Olivia said, smiling. “You looked good in practice today.”

  “You must have caught the only play I was allowed to participate in. MJ pulled me right after that,” she said over her shoulder as she tossed her bag in the closet.

  “He’s just looking out for his star forward,” Olivia said, placing her hands on Randi’s shoulders. She began massaging circles with her thumbs.

  “That feels good,” Randi
mumbled, feeling her tense muscles start to loosen up.

  “You’ve been a little stressed lately,” Olivia said, kissing her ear. “Injuries are an athlete’s worst nightmare, I know that all too well.”

  Randi felt Olivia’s hands slide down to her waist. Then, they moved around to her stomach as Olivia pressed against her backside, bringing their bodies together. She knew where this was going. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex, and a month ago, she would’ve been all over Olivia by now.

  “I have a massive headache,” she said, turning in Olivia’s arms and kissing her softly before pulling away. It wasn’t a lie. She was frustrated about practice, and the coaching staff babying her injury, but that certainly wasn’t all that was plaguing her mind.

  *

  “I see your eating habits haven’t changed,” Dena chided. She was sitting on a barstool at the small island in Berkley’s kitchen, watching her scarf down a bowl of cereal. “No wonder you and Garrett get along so well. You’re just alike.”

  Berkley laughed. “There’s no added sugar in it though!”

  Dena shook her head. “He told me SWAT training is like a boot camp for cops.”

  “Nah. It’s nothing like that. We did some bookwork and watched a lot of videos of what to do and what not to do. Most of it was going through scenarios on the tactical course and using various weapons on the range. It was a long week, but I got through it. I made a few friends along the way, so that helped.”

  “Were you the only female?”

  “Trainee, yes. But, the instructor’s assistant was a woman.”

  “Was she cute?”

  “Nope,” Berkley mumbled, shoving another bite into her mouth.

  “He also told me you’re the first female in your department accepted to SWAT. That’s a huge deal. Why is it I’m finding stuff out through Garrett these days? It seems like you and I never talk.”