Page 5 of Guarded from Sabotage

I push the window open, letting the warm breeze come in, breathing in the scent of newly-cut grass and some kind of flowering plant Jade insisted on planting outside for decoration. I’m not sure why a security company needs flowers outside, but if it makes Jade happy, I’m all for it.

My mom would love it. She’s constantly sending me decorations for the ranch—solar lights, candles, decorative pillows, wall art—and I feel too guilty to not put them out.

As I take a sip of coffee, I glance at my watch, noting that I have fifteen minutes until the start of our weekly meeting. Enough time to finish my coffee, brush my teeth, check my email, and give our case files a quick once-over before I present them to the team.

I’m just heading over to my desk when my phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call.

I don’t really have time to answer, not if I want to get everything else done, but it’s my mother, and I know she still worries when she calls and I don’t answer.

It’s not that she’s overprotective or clingy, but after years of worrying I might not make it back from a mission, her concern is understandable. And even though I’ve assured her dozens of times since I got to Texas that I’m not going on dangerous ops like that anymore, that I’m perfectly safe, I don’t think it’s quite sunk in yet.

So I answer the call, and my mother’s smiling face appears on the screen.

“Dante!” Her smile gets even bigger. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, Mom.” I head over to the couch and flop down, then rest my feet on the coffee table, which is something my mother wouldabsolutelynot approve of if she could see me. “I’m always up before this.”

“Oh, right. Doing your exercises.” Her brow furrows. “I hope you’re not pushing yourself too much. You’re not as young as you used to be.”

Ouch. Stifling the urge to roll my eyes, I reply patiently, “Maybe not. But I’m still in pretty good shape. A couple hours of exercise a day isn’t going to hurt me.”

“I guess…” She looks like she wants to say something else, but thankfully changes the topic. “So, how is everything going at work? Do you still like it?”

“I do.” I take another sip of coffee and check the time. “Things are great here. We finished another pro-bono case and lined up two paid security jobs for next month. Plus three more in February.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Her forehead smooths out and she smiles again. “I’ve been telling all my friends at book club about your company. How you take on paid security jobs so you can fund your pro-bono work. All the ladies think it’s just the most wonderful thing.”

Before I can respond, she shifts topics again. “Oh. I just remembered something I wanted to ask you. Do you think you can make it home sometime in May? Just for a weekend?”

“I’m sure I can. Especially knowing this far in advance, I can definitely make it work. What’s going on in May?”

“Well…” She draws out the word, and her voice pitches up. “Bianca’s pregnant. She’s due in June, and she’d really love toschedule the baby shower so you can make it. She and Mark are so excited, they want everyone to be there, not just the women. After waiting so long, you know…”

“Bianca’s pregnant?” My younger sister and her husband have been trying for years, and finally turned to IVF earlier this year.

“Yes.” My mom beams. “She didn’t want to tell anyone until after the first trimester. But the baby looks healthy, and they’re just so thrilled. I am too. Another grandchild to spoil.”

There’s a loaded pause, and I brace myself for what I know is coming next.

“Haveyoumet anyone, Dante?” There’s a hopeful note to her voice. “Not having to travel all the time, and being close to San Antonio, there must be lots of opportunities to meet women.”

“Well…” Jumping up, I head into the kitchen to put my empty mug in the sink. “I’ve been really busy getting Blade and Arrow off the ground. Maybe next year…”

“I know you’re busy. But I’d love to see you happy.”

“Iamhappy, Mom.” It comes out a touch defensively, so I continue in a gentler tone, “I’m not against meeting someone. If I meet the right person… it’ll happen. Don’t worry.”

She softens. “I’ll always worry about you, Dante. You’re my son, and I love you.”

“I love you, too.” As I head to the bathroom and grab my bottle of mouthwash—no time to brush now, a swish of this will have to do—I add, “I have to get going, Mom. I have a meeting in five minutes. But I’ll call you this weekend, okay?”

“Okay. Tell everyone I said hi. And that I’ll send more cookies next week. Double chocolate chunk this time.”

Smiling, I reply, “They’ll all be thrilled.” Then I hold up the mouthwash so she can see it and give her a toothy grin. “I’ve got to go. Fresh breath is calling. Talk soon.”

It only takes another minute to wrap up the call, after she remembered two other things she desperately needed to tell me that could definitely have waited until this weekend. Now I have three minutes to get to the meeting, which I’m not thrilled about—even though we don’t really stand on official roles in B and A and we all have equal input in decisions, I’m still the one leading the meetings and like to be there early.

Not this time, though.

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