The Donation
an excerpt

The interior of the office space was as impressively understated as the lobby. A young man, he looked about 20, stood up from his extra large wooden desk as soon as they walked in. He was nearly as tall as Dane, but his frame was much fuller and broader. He was impeccably dressed in that casual cashmere way favored over suits in San Francisco. His charcoal slacks and a lighter gray sweater made his dark hair look jet black and his green eyes startlingly bright in contrast.

“Good afternoon,” he had an English accent. “My name is Christopher, I’m Dr. Ayers assistant. Is he expecting you?” He sounded pleasant, if slightly confused. Dane had no doubt he knew for certain they did not have an appointment.

“No. Is that his office, Chris?” They barely slowed down as they crossed the room, Libby pointing ahead of her to the closed door on the opposite wall, not waiting for his response.

“Yes, but I’m afraid he isn’t available at the moment,” Dane watched him closely out of the corner of his eye as the boy rushed back to his desk instead of intercepting them. There was an alarm, Dane knew it, even if he couldn’t see how he tripped it. Likely it was a simple panic button under the lip of the desk, bank teller style. A light would flash silently in the other office. It was a low tech option in the security-gadget world, but highly effective for its purpose. He’d seen it before, in a bordello of all places. “You can’t go in there,” he called after them.

Libby opened the door without hesitation.

Paul Ayers looked a lot like his sister, attractive and athletic, although his hair was a lighter shade of dark blonde. He was standing behind another large, heavy desk with a closed file folder in his left hand and a phone to his right ear. He was telling whoever was on the other line that he had to go. His eyes were trained squarely onto Libby.

Dane took a seat in one of the leather chairs facing Ayers’ desk, allowing his coat to gap revealing his holster. He didn’t need Libby to spell it out for him this time- a man with a panic button was likely armed and could easily take a visit from the Feds poorly, family or not. She took a position next to him, sitting on the arm of the other chair.