Page 121 of Missile Strike

He straightened. Bella and Talia were leaving the ballroom.

He hurried to catch up. “Bella.”

Both women turned.

“We’re going to the ladies’ room.” Talia peered down the hall toward the elevators. “The reporter went that way. Let’s use the other restroom.” She tugged Bella in the opposite direction.

“I’ll escort you.”

“Into the ladies’ room?” Talia shot back, her brows arching.

“Danny.” Bella’s fingers grazed his coat sleeve. “It’s right outside the ballroom. I don’t see you escorting other guests.”

His jaw tightened. The other guests weren’t her.

He followed them anyway.

A security guard stood within sight of the restrooms on the far side of the ballroom, where the hallway branched off toward several smaller meeting rooms.

“See?” Talia waved her hand toward the guard. “He’ll make sure we can pee in peace.”

Danny tamped down the irritation prickling his skin and planted himself beside the wall. “I’ll wait.”

“Heads up.” Tavari’s voice in his ear. “We’ve got a breach in the parking deck. Multiple bodies moving toward the service elevators.”

“Headed there now.” Caleb’s voice.

Danny swore under his breath.

Bella and Talia had disappeared into the restroom.

Every instinct told him not to leave.

“We need more back up.” Tavari again. The former sniper’s voice remained calm, but the clipped tone caught Danny’s attention.

Fuck.

Danny glanced at the guard. He pointed to the restroom door. “Make sure the women who just went inside make it back to the ballroom.”

Then he tapped the mic on his collar. “I’m on my way.”

“Your man certainly takes his job seriously.” Talia shot Isabella an arch look as she reapplied lipstick. The lighting above the spacious mirror glinted off the large ring adorning Talia’s middle finger—a polished gemstone in an antique gold setting, the red so dark it almost appeared black. Large teardrop garnets bordered by diamonds dangled from her ears. “This bathroom is ten feet away from the ballroom.”

Isabella shrugged. “He’s just doing his job.” Although she had to agree. So far, the night had been a success, and, other than the uncomfortable run-in with Olivia Flores, she’d felt safe.

Even if a nagging sense of unease persisted.

Nerves. She’d poured a lot of time and effort into this event.

As soon as Talia finished, they stepped out.

They’d barely cleared the restroom when chaos erupted from the floor below, near the escalator connecting the lobby to the ballroom level.

A man in black surged up the unmoving escalator, taking the steps two at a time.

The man Isabella had seen outside with the megaphone.

Behind him, a woman, the whistle at her lips shrieking.