Page 17 of Missile Strike

“You sure about this?”

Shit. What did Nathan know?

Or think he knew?

“Yeah, I’m good.”

So, his past had resurfaced. He was a grown-ass man, a former Tier One operator who’d seen and experienced things way worse than the mistakes of a messed-up nineteen-year-old boy.

He forced a grin to lighten the mood. “A hundred bucks says I come back single.”

Hell, even if Bella forgave him, he wasn’t the kind of man she’d want. Her father said she valued control.

And he was the opposite of stable.

Chaos.

Nathan snorted. “That’s too easy. You owe me two hundred bucks if you don’t come back single for all the shit you’ve given the rest of us.”

The fiery ache in Danny’s chest returned.

He widened his grin. “Easy money, L-T. You’re on.”

Chapter Four

Smoothing her hands down her gray pencil skirt, Isabella made sure she’d buttoned her matching blazer. Tablet and pink floral planner in one hand, purse slung over her shoulder, she pushed through the glass revolving door into the ornate entrance lobby of The Waverly Grand Hotel in uptown Charlotte, the venue for her dad’s fundraiser gala. The click-clack of her heels echoed on the glossy marble tile as she made her way to the concierge desk.

Normally, she’d be organizing trade show exhibitions for AegisShield Defense Solutions, not planning a political campaign event, but her parents had cajoled her into helping, and her boss had been more than happy to give her flexible work hours over the past few months to work on the gala.

After all, her father was a former secretary of defense, and the CEO of AegisShield was both a friend and key figure in the US defense industry.

She waited for the woman in the navy pantsuit to get off the phone before she spoke. “Excuse me, I’m Isabella Strickland, here to see your events manager, Melody Santos.”

The concierge dialed an extension. “Melody? Isabella Strickland is here to see you.” She glanced at Isabella as she hung up the phone. “She’s on her way.”

“Thank you.”

Isabella surveyed her opulent surroundings while she waited. Six white pillars framed the lobby’s center. The chandelier mounted on the high ceiling looked as big as Talia’s Mini Cooper. Strategically placed seating areas flanked by greenery created an ambiance that was both elegant and welcoming.

“Ms. Strickland?”

Isabella turned to see a brunette about her age approach, wearing a similar navy pantsuit as the concierge. The hotel uniform, apparently.

The woman held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you after all our conversations on the phone and over email. We’ll head to the event space as soon as Mr. Mayhew arrives.”

Mayhew.

A dull roar filled Isabella’s ears. “Excuse me?”

Nope. Couldn’t be.

Melody’s brow furrowed. “The Senator’s chief of staff called this morning to let me know a new director of security had been hired for the event. My understanding was he’d be attending our meeting?”

Thanks for the heads-up, Dad.

“No, yes. Sorry.” She wasn’t about to admit this was news to her.

Pressure built behind her temples. Her parents knew she hated surprises. “Why don’t we go over the vendor list so I can make sure I have everyone’s contact information while we’re waiting for Mr.…Mayhew.”