Page 98 of Missile Strike

Chapter Twenty-Three

Isabella and Talia spent an hour working out the seating arrangements, stopping only when there was a soft knock on Isabella’s bedroom door.

Tavari stood on the other side.

Isabella’s pulse kicked up as she took in the cold edge that hovered in his eyes and the grim lines of his mouth. “What happened? Is Danny okay?”

The room brightened in a flash of light, followed by the crackling static of thunder, close enough to vibrate the house. Her hand flew to her chest.

Tavari glanced toward the windows. “He’s fine. Wanted me to let you know he’ll be home later than expected. There was an… issue with his car.”

The pause was faint, but Isabella noticed it. Dread crept up her spine. “What kind of issue?”

“I’ll let him explain when he gets back.” Tavari turned away, already moving toward the stairs.

A hand curled over her shoulder.

Talia.

“It sounds like his car broke down, Izzy. Nothing crazy.”

“There’s something Tavari isn’t telling me. I can feel it.”

“Or the fact that the gala is days away is stressing you out?” Talia peered at her. “I’ve gotta go. Are you going to be okay? I wouldn’t leave, but I have a videoconference at three.”

“No. You go. I’ll be fine.” Isabella mustered a smile. “Tavari will keep me company.”

“Lucky girl.”

Downstairs, they spotted Tavari on the phone in the kitchen, speaking in low tones. He looked up at their approach, then turned his back and moved closer to the back door.

Isabella’s fingers curled into her palms. What did he not want her and Talia to overhear?

Talia had the front door half open, peering at the sky. Patches of blue broke through at the edge of the cloud bank. She turned to face Isabella. “I hope Danny’s okay.”

“Thanks. Me, too. I’ll see you soon.”

After Talia left, Isabella tried to work on last-minute gala details on her laptop while Tavari sat in the kitchen, either talking on his phone or tapping away on his own computer. Trying to pull information out of him was like trying to milk a stone, and she gave up after the third time he told her Danny would fill her in when he got back.

She couldn’t focus on the words on her screen, her thoughts circling the same worry.

If this was how she reacted when she didn’t even know there was a problem, how would she handle it when Danny was off putting himself in danger for someone else?

Queasiness rolled through her stomach.

Stability. Control. Safety.

Those were the pillars she’d built her life on, and none of them seemed compatible with a man like Danny Mayhew.

Even the romance novel she’d retrieved from her bedroom failed to hold her attention. Curled up on the couch, she read the same page twice before giving up.

Just when she was gearing up to ask Tavari yet again when Danny would be home, a black SUV pulled to a stop in front of her home. She lunged for the door and yanked it open.

“Danny!” The sight of him, healthy and whole, stepping from the driver’s seat made her lightheaded. “Oh, thank God.”

“Get back inside, Bella. Now.” The force of his command shoved her back a step.

Then he was on her, so close she could smell sweat and an acrid chemical scent, see damp patches, dirt, and what appeared to be grease on his white shirt. “You don’t stand in an open doorway like that, you hear me?”