Page 18 of Missile Strike

The last name was a coincidence. It had to be. Because the alternative…

Her teeth caught the inside of her lip and bit down. The spike of pain recentered her. Freeing the abused area, she forced air into her lungs in a slow glide to calm her pulse.

It’s fine. Everything’s fine.

She and Melody took a seat on one of the nearby couches and were comparing notes when Melody’s head lifted, her gaze roving with barely concealed interest over someone behind Isabella’s shoulder. “Can I help you?”

“Sorry I’m late. Hope you didn’t start the party without me.”

Isabella stiffened.

That voice. Deeper now with age, but with the same hint of playfulness.

Slowly, she pivoted in her seat, heart racing.

So much for hoping for a coincidence.

Now that she wasn’t in fear for her life, she could study Danny more carefully.

He’d filled out since he was nineteen. Nicely. And still handsome. More so, actually, his face honed by a maturity that only made him sexier.

His blond hair was longer than one would expect for a professional, but where it had framed his face in a sexy tousle on the yacht, today he’d tamed it back into a low, short ponytail that only emphasized his sharp jawline and straight nose.

Her gaze lingered on the muscles that filled out the pink dress shirt he wore, and those gray wool trousers did little to disguise his trim waist and muscular thighs.

His blue eyes reminded her of a sunny Carolina day and were crinkled at the corners.

Sun or laugh lines?

Those eyes narrowed on her, a hint of wariness in their depths. “Hello, Bella.”

“Mr. Mayhew? I’m Melody Santos.” The Waverly Grand Hotel’s events manager introduced herself, her gaze darting between Danny and Isabella with open curiosity.

Her introduction gave Isabella the precious seconds she needed to gather her composure. She stood to face her former childhood crush. “You’re the new security director?”

He frowned. “Your father didn’t tell you?”

“Must have slipped his mind.”

Danny grimaced, letting her know he hadn’t missed the sarcasm in her tone.

“Ahem, well, why don’t we take a look at the event space first,” Melody plastered on a bright smile, clearly sensing the tension. “Then we can discuss the other action items.”

“Yes. Let’s.” Isabella threw back her shoulders and followed the woman to the main ballroom, every nerve in her body attuned to the man behind her.

Danny.

When he’d shown up like a superhero and rescued her family from terrorists, she hadn’t been able to do much more than whisper his name before he’d slipped quietly back over the side of the yacht and disappeared.

Funny thing was, in her nightmares since the vacation from hell, Danny always appeared.

Hey, Bella, he’d say.

And she’d ignore the dead man at his feet, feeling oddly safe again.

Which made no sense, because Danny Mayhew clearly still thrived on chaos, and nothing about him was safe.

Look at what he did for a living.