Page 117 of Missile Strike

Danny ignored the use of his childhood nickname and bent to allow the older woman to kiss his cheek. “Mrs. Strickland.”

Rory, clad in a black tux, was a carbon copy of his father except for the blue eyes he’d inherited from his mother. He clapped Danny on the back. “Hey, man. Haven’t seen you since high school.” His face slackened, then his lips pressed together in a grimace. “Well, except for…”

Greece.

They exchanged a look, and Danny nodded. “It’s great to see you again,” he said. Rory had been a year ahead of him in high school.

Rory turned to the attractive brunette with long dark hair wearing a lilac one-shoulder gown. “You didn’t get the chance to be properly introduced. This is Annalise.”

Isabella had mentioned that Rory and Annalise might not make the gala because Annalise still struggled with public appearances after Greece, especially when it meant leaving Brooks. They’d left him in Texas in the care of Annalise’s parents.

He felt a flicker of sympathy for the woman as he shook her hand. “Ma’am.”

The senator shook Danny’s hand next. A custom tuxedo fit his still-toned frame, his once-dark hair now gray and carefully styled. His light-brown eyes assessed Danny. “Everything under control?”

“Yessir.”

“Good.” Graham nodded. “Where’s my daughter?”

“Right here, Daddy.” Bella stood next to one of the open ballroom doors. She glided toward them like a runway model, the slit in her dress exposing a length of smooth, bare leg.

Danny schooled his features before Graham Strickland figured out he was sleeping with his daughter.

That revelation could wait.

Bella hugged her family. “Come see the ballroom setup and we can do a final review of the program.”

Stepping back, Danny let the Stricklands and their security detail move past him.

His team’s chatter filled his ear as tuxedo-clad men and women in expensive gowns began arriving. Servers wound through the reception space, offering glasses of wine and hors d’oeuvres.

“Flores is here. She’s on her way up.” Caleb’s voice in his ear again. “And Nathan just pulled up with Emily.”

“Roger that.”

Danny kept his gaze trained on the elevators.

Olivia Flores stepped off in a black knee-length dress, a press badge dangling from her neck.

Their gazes locked. Held.

Color tinged her cheeks. Her chin lifted.

He’d be watching her closely tonight, and she knew it.

A deep baritone voice down the hall caught his attention. Nathan, wearing a black tuxedo, and Emily in an ice-blue gown that matched her husband’s eyes, had arrived. Nathan’s in-laws, retired Admiral Porter Dane and his wife, Carla, accompanied them.

Some of the tension in Danny’s shoulders receded.

Nathan drifted over a few minutes later.

Danny nodded toward Olivia Flores as she worked the gathering crowd. “You and Emily keep an eye on the reporter. If she leaves this area for any reason, I want one of you to follow.”

Nathan nodded, then tugged at the neck of his tuxedo shirt like it was trying to strangle him. “I hate playing dress up.” He dropped his hand and did his own scan of the room before returning his attention to Danny. “How’re you doing? Got everything under control?”

“As much as I can.” Something in the air felt off. Too quiet beneath the noise. It reminded him of the stillness that always occurred right before an enemy assault.

He just didn’t know from which enemy, and in what direction the fire would come.