Page 35 of Missile Strike

Her gaze dropped to the gun in his hand.

“Did your alarm go off?”

“Alarm?” She had an alarm system, but her neighborhood wasn’t exactly a hotbed of crime. It was a nice, safe suburban neighborhood. That’s why she lived there, a single woman surrounded by families.

Danny closed his eyes briefly. “Bella. Tell me you didn’t enter the house.”

The sharpness in his voice brought her up short. “Of course I did. I had to see if Trip was inside. Which he isn’t. We need to find him.”

He glanced between her and her home, clearly weighing priorities.

“Please, Danny. What if he gets hit by a car?”

His nod was curt as he gestured to his Mustang. “Get in. We’ll drive around and look for him.”

“Thank you.” She blinked back the sudden moisture in her eyes and hurried to the passenger side.

“Has he gotten out before? Is there any place he might gravitate to?” Danny asked. He turned the corner and drove down the street, keeping his speed to a crawl.

Isabella rolled down her window. “He slipped out once when I opened the door to talk to a neighbor but didn’t make it past my yard.” She called Trip’s name. “There’s a small pond in the neighborhood. I walk Trip past it all the time. He likes to bark at the geese.”

It was getting harder to breathe. Her hand slid down to where her skirt hemline met her thigh, and she dug her nails in.

Danny’s hand covered hers, fingers pressing gently until her grip loosened. He guided her hand to rest on his thigh.

Heat rushed into her cheeks.

He’d noticed her…tic, as she liked to think of it. But the pressure in her chest slowly eased, replaced by an awareness of where her hand now rested. She could let a finger—just one—drift to the hem of his cargo shorts and brush the hair-roughened skin below. It was the first time she’d seen him in shorts. More tattoos decorated his thighs and calves. She wanted to read them like a book. Discover which parts of his life he’d chosen to ink his body with.

“Which way to the pond?”

Danny’s question jerked her back to reality.

She yanked her hand back into her lap. Her dog was missing, and she was daydreaming about the man sitting next to her. “Turn left up here, then the first right.”

He shot a look in her direction. “You okay?”

No. “I will be when we find Trip.”

When they reached the pond, they got out of the car.

Isabella called out to Trip.

A flash of reddish-gold fur moved in the bushes.

Relief rushed through her. “Trip, come here, sweetie!”

The landscape rustled, but no dog came running.

Danny put two fingers to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. “Trip!”

The unmistakable authority in his voice made her jump. A wet dog burst from the bushes, tongue lolling as he bounded toward them.

“Trip.” Dropping to her knees, Isabella gathered him close, fingers tight in his fur, uncaring of the pond water soaking her suit jacket. “You scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”

“Looks like he took a swim.” Danny eyed the puddle forming beneath Trip before glancing toward his Mustang.

Following his gaze, she winced. “I’ll walk him home.”