Page 40 of Donovan Blake: Adrenalin

“It means I want to see if you can follow orders without a million questions.”

“Oh, okay, I’ll do it right now.”

“I’ll join you in a minute. But do you want anything? Obviously I only ordered for one,” he remarked, raising one scolding eyebrow.

“No, I’m good. I was starving and I had a wonderful meal on the plane. I used one of the company jets. The executives fly all the time so there are chefs on standby.”

“Some life you have,” he remarked. “I want to hear more about it, but now isn’t the time.”

As she smiled sheepishly and began pushing the trolley, he strode back to his bedroom, slipped out of the bathrobe and pulled on comfortable slacks and a sweater.

The more he thought about his new plan, the more appealing it became.

It was risky, but no more than the one in place, and he agreed with Sam. Manny wouldn’t touch Phoebe Beaumont, especially not at his home. Confident it could work, he walked into the dining room and found she’d laid the table and was drinking a glass of wine.

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked, staring up at him with a woeful look on her face.

“What do you think?”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Where and why did you learn to ride motorbikes?” he said, ignoring her question and sitting down.

“My dad was an avid biker. My mother was horrified when he started to teach me, but I loved it. It was as if I was born to it. But then, I guess I was.”

“So…you climbed on my bike and rode it down that dirt road, then all the way to the airfield—wherever that is—because you wanted to help,” he said, then paused to take a drink of his wine. “I’m sure that’s only partly true,” he continued. “What were the other reasons, and don’t say there weren’t any.”

“Are you always—?”

“And stop answering me with questions!”

“Sorry. Okay, you’re right,” she mumbled with a sigh. “I’m no good at sitting around waiting for the phone to ring. It drives me crazy. And I missed you as soon as you left. I wanted—I want—to be with you, even if that just means hanging around this hotel. Maybe I can’t go to that ball with you, but at least I’ll be with you overnight.”

“Finally. Thank you for being straight with me. Now I’m going to enjoy these very expensive lamb chops while I think about where to go from here. While I do that, I want you to consider what you need to do in order to be a part of that.”

* * *

Staring at Donovan across the table Phoebe felt a glimmer of hope. He was giving her a chance. She just had to say the right things. But as the thought crossed her mind she realized she couldn’t just say what he wanted to hear. She needed to be sincere. He’d know in a heartbeat if she was just spouting empty promises.

One thing was clear. She would have to follow his orders, no questions asked. But beyond that nothing came to mind. As she sipped her wine and tried desperately to think of something else, she continued to draw a blank.

“That was great!” he declared, laying his knife and fork on the plate. “Now, Phoebe, what did you come up with?”

“I’m afraid only one thing came to me. Following your orders without second guessing you or asking you a bunch of questions.”

“Nothing else?”

“No, sorry.”

“That’s the most important thing, but there’s something else. You can’t take matters into your own hands. I’m open to ideas, but once I’ve given you my answer there’s no debate. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Donovan, that’s clear, and I mean it. I’ll listen, I will, I swear.”

“I sense there’s something else on your mind.”

“There is. I don’t know exactly what you do, whether you’re working for the FBI or CIA or what, but I think it’s really exciting. Can you tell me what it is exactly?”

“I’ll explain it like this. There’s a law enforcement department that investigates what they call, high-end crimes. It could be a million-dollar art forgery, or cases involving large sums of money that are difficult to navigate and solve. Sometimes they involve organized crime, though more often it’s a single individual or a small group of highly specialized operators.”

---