Page 4 of Last Minute

I swallow the uncomfortable ball of emotion that’s collecting in my throat, and it goes down like a too-big piece of tortilla chip. I press my lips together tightly, fighting myself to keep that calm, cool exterior that earned me the nickname Iceman my first few months on the job. I see Gideon’s face soften, but it’s only noticeable because he was my superior for years back when we both worked in law enforcement.

“I don’t have a new assignment for you right now.” Gideon’s head tips down slightly and he meets me eye-to-eye. “But I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

Gideon leaves my office without a goodbye and I watch his large, quick strides back to his office, only stopping when Lucas Castillo, a fellow agent, asks him a question.

Berlin.

Canceled.

Slowly, like I’m swimming through molasses in January, I close out of the spreadsheet I had been editing. It isn’t like I need it anymore. My brain is reeling, but I keep all that turmoil tucked inside where it belongs, and I pull up some outstanding paperwork that needs to be completed from my last assignment in French Guiana.

My official excuse for avoiding my mother is gone, but she doesn’t need to know that. And that thought eases the tightness in my shoulders enough for me to settle into a long day of paperwork.

CHAPTER 4

Ellie

I can feel the smile on my face all the way down to my toes and my fingertips, like champagne bubbling through my bloodstream. Just the idea of traveling alone—well, mostly alone—fills me with excitement. Now that I’m actually here, the sensation is like nothing I’ve felt before.

I’m used to large entourages. Private airports. Private planes. Certainly nothing as ordinary as parking in the long-term parking at the Brysard International Airport and having to wheel my own suitcase through the crowded terminal myself.

I shoot Travis Beckett, my EPA, a toothy smile as he helps me out of the back seat of the car. He responds with a small smile, but with none of the warmth that it usually possesses. I shake off his lack of enthusiasm, chalking it up to this being my first time traveling without extra security. Beckett must be more stressed than usual.

He grabs our bags out of the back of the car and motions me to lead the way. I happily take point and practically bounce my way to the front doors.

The front doors.

I laugh to myself as I walk in and beeline for the boarding pass kiosks. Nobody turns their head to gawk. Nobody smiles and waves. Today, I am ordinary, and the feeling is liberating. Once I’ve picked up our boarding passes, I turn back to Beckett, who is a few feet behind me, looking away, across the lobby. I follow his gaze and see nothing.

“Is something wrong?” I step closer and hold out his pass. Beckett’s lips pinch together as he looks back at me, but he doesn’t hurry me along or move in front of me, like he has before when he sniffs out a security threat.

After a moment, he clears his throat and looks down at me with a smile. “No, nothing’s wrong, Your—”

“Ah, ah, ah.” I raise my eyebrows meaningfully.

“Excuse me, nothing’s wrong, Ellie.” I beam at him and Beckett responds with a small smile. In an effort to make this feel like a real vacation and not just another diplomatic visit, I made him promise on the drive over from the palace that he wouldn’t call me Your Highness or Princess Eloise. For all intents and purposes during the next six days, I am just Ellie.

Beckett glances down at his watch—a beast of a thing that is the only thing about him that remains the same from his usual getup. Forgoing his ever-present suit, he’s donned a casual t-shirt, jeans, and running shoes. Paired with my black leggings and oversized green sweatshirt, we look positively common.

Today, we are incognito, and the thought thrills me.

“We should get going so we can get through security.” Beckett’s voice is tight, and he looks a little paler than he did this morning when we left the palace, but he puts a guiding hand on my shoulder and propels me toward the signs indicating the security line.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask over my shoulder as I wheel my own suitcase—how did I not know that even rolling my own luggage would be fun?—toward the long line of passengers.

Beckett clears his throat. “I’m fine,” he grits out. But I’ve known him long enough to know that something is wrong.

We take our place at the back of the security line, and I study him as we inch our way forward in the queue. His face is paler, and small beads of sweat dot his hairline. His lips are thin and pinched, and the creases at the corners of his eyes are deeper than they usually are. His cheeks are lined, and he’s looking everywhere but at me.

It’s his job to keep an eye out for me—more than an eye, in reality—but today, it goes both ways. While it’s just me and Beckett, I can keep an eye out for him, too.

The passengers in front of me shift.

“The line’s moved,” Beckett says in a flat voice, so unlike his usual “fun uncle” spark.

“Don’t tell me what I know, Travis,” I say with a small smile, bumping the side of his leg with my hip.

Beckett grimaces at the jarring motion, and my smile falls. “Travis, what’s wrong?” I lower my voice and put a comforting hand on his arm.

---