Page 3 of Last Minute

My phone buzzes on my desk, and I silence it.

Again.

There’s nothing that needs to be said that hasn’t already been said. So I let the call go to voicemail, where I can delete it without listening to it, just like I have with the six other voicemails my mom has left me in the last three days.

There’s a knock on my office door, and I navigate away from the spreadsheet I’m editing about my upcoming assignment at an antiques auction in Berlin, to see Gideon Taylor, the director of Black Swan Protection, standing in the doorway. Somewhere in his mid-fifties, but looking more fit than even I could hope to be at his age, he fills the doorway and radiates I am the Boss vibes. He doesn’t look happy, but then again, he never does. He could be singing “Happy Birthday” to his wife Suzie—who is a lovely human being—and he would still look like someone left an overripe banana in his sock. And when it comes to work, Gideon is one hundred percent intense, one hundred percent of the time. Which is why I’m not surprised to find Gideon in my doorway, frowning.

“Come on in, Boss. I was just finishing up some last minute details for the Berlin assignment.”

Gideon takes two strides into my office before my office phone line starts ringing on my desk. He eyes it warily, the crease in his forehead deepening with annoyance, and looks back and forth between me and the phone when I don’t move to pick it up.

“Are you going to answer that, Donovan?”

I glance down at the phone, verifying that the phone number is the same one from the contact labeled “Shannon Donovan” in my phone, and look back to Gideon, ignoring the obnoxious ringing.

“No sir.”

“Why not?”

I clear my throat and raise my chin. “It’s my mom, calling about the same thing she did this morning, yesterday, and the day before.”

The ringing stops, and Gideon grunts with a sharp nod of his head, not one to question why I’d be avoiding my mom’s phone call. Gideon has known me long enough to know that I don’t do anything without considering all of the angles—it’s one of the things that makes me such an effective executive protection agent. I think I’m in the clear until my cell phone starts vibrating again. I sigh deeply through my nose as my boss quirks an eyebrow.

“Either answer it or silence it, Donovan.”

I reach for my phone, tilting it up to see the green icon, flashing for me to answer. I tap the edge of my phone on the desk once. Twice. I glance at Gideon again and he nods as if saying go on. This isn’t a conversation I need privacy for anyway.

I answer.

“Erik Donovan! How dare—”

“Mom.” I cut her off. I am not in the mood, nor do I have time today for one of her rants. I know what she’s calling about, and the answer is the same as it was this morning.

“Would it kill you to pick up the phone?” Her annoyance oozes through the speaker, and I have the urge to wipe my ear, like it would rid me of it.

“The answer is no, Mom. I’m not coming.”

“But Erik—”

“No,” I cut her off again. Another time, I might let her try to explain why I should come and why it would be important to her, but I’ve made up my mind, and I won’t change it now. “I’m not coming because I have an assignment taking me to Germany. I literally,” I enunciate every syllable, “will not be in the country. I’m sorry, but you and Jamison will have to live without me being there.”

There’s a pause, and then a soft sigh. “Erik,” Mom’s voice comes through, tired and resigned. This is not the first time we’ve had this conversation, but no matter how many times she asks, I will always answer the same. I have no interest in watching my mom get married to a man barely ten years older than me—to the man she left my dad for after nearly twenty years of marriage. Dad passed away eight years ago now, and someone in this family needs to carry the grudge. Since it’s clearly not going to be Mom, it will have to be me.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m not going to change my mind.” I end the call before she protests again.

I silence my phone—something I should have done earlier—and set it face down on my desk. Gideon lets out a sound that can only be described as a snort, and I square my shoulders, ready to be professional in the face of one of the best EPAs on the planet.

I clear my throat as I raise my eyes to Gideon’s, and the small bit of amusement playing around his mouth quickly falls away and is replaced by his usual seriousness.

“What did you need, Boss?”

“The Berlin assignment fell through.”

Gideon has never been one to pull punches or soften blows, and I feel the bad news like an anvil to the sternum.

“The antiquities auction was canceled with no reschedule dates yet, but I’ll keep you in the loop for when we hear something.”

My eyebrow twitches slightly, but that’s the only outward sign that I’m dying on the inside. I’ve been planning my trip to Berlin for months now, using it as my “Get Out of Mom’s Wedding Free” card. Any other assignment, and I wouldn’t have batted an eye. But five words from Gideon is enough to topple my carefully stacked house of cards.

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