Page 150 of Missile Strike

Opening Bella’s contacts, he pulled up Talia’s home address.

Trip barked. He called the dog back inside and gave him a pat.

“I’m going to bring your mama back, I promise.” He had to force the words past the lump in his throat.

Deep breath. Get it together.

Right now Bella needed him thinking clearly.

Pulling up Talia’s address, he studied the location—a modern apartment complex in South End. Third floor. Secure building.

Pet-friendly.

That was his way in.

Who wouldn’t want to help the new guy with his friendly, fluffy dog get into the building because he was a dumbass and forgot his electronic key fob?

“Come on, Trip. We’re going for a ride.”

Twenty minutes later, Danny parked in a visitor’s spot at The Stratton apartments, leashed Trip, and headed toward one of the building’s black metal-and-glass side entrances. At Bella’s, he’d quickly changed into one of his loud Hawaiian shirts and a pair of khaki cargo shorts and left his hair loose around his shoulders.

This had to work. Assuming he could pull off his usual patented charm.

Because right now, every second he didn’t know how to find Bella was a drop of acid eating away the lining of his gut.

A trio of women in their twenties clustered near the entrance, overpriced coffee drinks in hand. He approached and greeted them with what Emily Long would call his cheesy surfer dude smile. The women divided their attention between checking him out and cooing at Trip, who was only too happy to receive the attention.

“I don’t suppose any of you live here?” He gestured to the locked door with an embarrassed shrug. “I’m visiting a friend and forgot the key fob. Now I’m locked out.”

The brunette with long, straight hair held up her keys. “I’ve got you.” She held the fob to the lock, and it buzzed.

He grabbed the handle and pulled before it re-locked. “Thanks.” With another manufactured megawatt smile, he entered with Trip. The women followed.

When the elevator doors opened, they all stepped inside.

The brunette placed her fob over the elevator keypad. “What floor?”

“Three. Thanks.”

When the doors opened on third, he stepped out, his shoulders relaxing when none of the women got off with him.

He wound his way down the hall, following the apartment numbers until he came to Talia’s apartment.

The doorknob moved freely in his grip, but when he pushed against the door, he met resistance.

Deadbolt.

He angled his shoulder to block the line of sight down the hall in case one of Talia’s neighbors made an appearance. Reaching into the side pocket of his cargo shorts, he slid out a thin black case and flipped it open.

Removing an L-shaped strip of metal, he inserted it into the keyhole. Light pressure. Next, he inserted the rake pick. Using quick strokes, his fingertips picked up the vibrations as the pins caught and lifted with a faint metallic click.

The third pin slipped.

Fuck.

He eased out a breath, refocused, and tried again.

Voices echoed somewhere down the hall.