Page 97 of Missile Strike

Caleb gave him an assessing look. “Chaos would’ve called this an exciting day.” He used Danny’s SEAL team nickname.

Danny kept his eyes on the rain pelting his windshield.

If Bella had been with him instead of Caleb…

Ice settled in his gut. “The next exit isn’t that far, and we’ve got to get out of this lane before some inattentive driver takes us out.”

Caleb quirked a brow. “You’re going to get us to the next exit with no brakes.”

“Piece of cake.” Danny flashed a grin that didn’t match his mood. “As long as I haven’t completely toasted the emergency brake.”

Now that they weren’t dead, he could finagle their way off this highway from hell. He wanted a peek at the brake lines before they called for a tow, and he wasn’t stupid enough to get under the car with low visibility and vehicles whipping past him at high speed, despite road conditions.

Leaving his hazard lights flashing, he eased Consuela into the middle lane, then the right lane, then hugged the shoulder as they did a twenty-five-mile-an-hour crawl the quarter mile to the exit. As luck would have it, a gas station appeared on the right. He coasted into the lot, burning through what was left of his handbrake to come to a stop.

The downpour had exhausted itself into a drizzle.

“Let’s see what’s going on.”

Opening his door, Danny stepped out, crouching beside the rear wheel. A spatter of fluid glistened beneath the rear axle, creating a rainbow glaze on the rain-soaked pavement. He swiped a finger through the liquid and examined it. Pale amber and slick. An acrid chemical scent flared his nostrils.

His lips flattened. “Caleb, pop the hood and check the brake fluid reservoir.”

Caleb popped the front hood and peered underneath. “There’s some left, but not much.”

“It should be full.” Danny got his Maglite from the glove compartment and got down on his back beneath the rear chassis. Oily water dampened the cotton fabric of his white dress shirt, leaving a chill on his skin despite the humidity.

The brake line ran clean along the frame until it reached a section of rubber hose near the rear suspension. Fluid beaded there, falling in slow drops onto the pavement. He ran his finger over the leak, scrutinizing it. No rust, corrosion, or cracks, but in that one area…his hand stilled.

A narrow cut marred the otherwise pristine rubber.

Someone had tampered with his brake lines and done it in such a way that it wouldn’t be immediately noticeable.

Caleb’s boots appeared near his head. “Anything?”

“Someone nicked my brake line.” Danny inched out from beneath the car and stood, wiping his hands on a patch of nearby grass.

“Why target you?”

“If Omar Hassan is stalking Bella, he knows I’m staying with her.” Danny’s hands bracketed his hips. “Probably figured he needed to get me out of the way to get to her.”

Caleb leaned against the Mustang, arms folded. “When would he have had access to your car?”

Danny thought for a minute. “Consuela sat in the Providence Bank corporate garage the other day while I was meeting Olivia Flores at The Charlotte Times. She was unattended long enough for someone to get underneath her.”

Caleb frowned. “You don’t think someone tampered with her outside Isabella’s home?”

“No.” Danny shook his head. “Her security cameras would have picked up any activity. The damage wasn’t enough to cause an immediate leak—I would’ve noticed. Whoever did it nicked the hose and let time do the rest. Less obvious. More dangerous.”

He’d driven Bella on the highway to the gun range the next day. If the brakes had failed then, he could have gotten her killed.

An icy rage moved through him, settling behind his ribs. “We need to find Hassan. As soon as we get Consuela towed to a garage and I get a new ride, we head back to Bella’s.”

Caleb straightened. “I’ll call Ryder. We’ll need to file a police report.”

Pulling out his phone, Danny glanced back at the Mustang. “We can do that once we get back to Bella’s.”

If Hassan thought cutting his brakes would scare him off, the bastard had no idea who he’d just picked a fight with.