Page 134 of Missile Strike

“It’s time for me to go.”

He’d traded his shorts for faded jeans, but he still wore that ridiculous short-sleeved shirt covered in taco-eating dinosaurs and palm trees. Sunglasses perched on his head, pushing his hair behind his ears.

For a few precious moments, she simply looked at him, committing every detail to memory.

His eyes darkened. “Don’t let your guard down while I’m gone, honey. Remember what I taught you.”

She drew back, her eyes going wide. “You think I’m still in danger?”

His jaw shifted. “If I thought you were, I wouldn’t leave, no matter what my boss said.” He let out a sigh that sounded too much like defeat. “Be careful, that’s all.”

With one last lingering look, he headed downstairs.

She followed. Silent.

Trip bounced between them, as if sensing something wasn’t right.

At the front door, Danny set down his luggage. “Come here.” His voice roughened.

She stepped closer. Gave him the smile she’d promised herself she’d give and ruthlessly kept tears at bay. “Have a good trip. Text me when you land.”

His lips met hers and were gone too soon. “I will.” He brushed a finger over her cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” A pat for the dog. “Trip, buddy, take care of your mama.”

She gripped the edge of the doorframe and watched him go.

Only then did she let the tears fall.

Needing something to take her mind off Danny, she took Trip for a walk. She tried to appreciate the blue sky, the gentle breeze that ruffled the leaves and tempered the humidity. Near the neighborhood clubhouse, the raucous laughter of children rang out from the fenced-in pool. It was a beautiful day.

But her gaze kept returning to the sky, searching out the silver glint of sun reflecting off planes, trying to guess which one held Danny.

He hadn’t even given her his flight information.

She made it to dinnertime before placing a video call to Talia.

Talia’s face appeared. “Hi.”

Isabella frowned. Her friend’s eyes were swollen, her nostrils reddened.

She sat up from her slumped position on the couch. “Are you sick?”

“Maybe a little. All the excitement from last night was too much for me, I guess.” Talia’s voice strengthened. “How are you?”

Last night already felt like a distant memory.

Isabella took a careful sip of the wine she’d poured for herself before placing it on the coffee table. “Okay,” she hedged.

“Okay? You should be flying high, girl. The gala was a success, despite the drama, the bad guy is—”

“Dead,” Isabella cut in. “He’s dead. Heart attack.”

“Wow. That’s just…crazy.”

“Yeah.”

Neither spoke for precious seconds.

“And Danny’s gone.”