Page 46 of Missile Strike

“It depends on what mood I’m in. Right now, I’d have to say ‘Vigilante Shit.’” Because anger was beginning to fill the borders of her fear.

“Midnights was a banger album.”

Okaaay. She refused to find him more attractive than she already did. Her fingers relaxed, releasing her abused flesh. “Tell me something embarrassing about you.”

“Why embarrassing?” A hint of humor softened his tone.

“Because you’re this badass former Navy SEAL turned bodyguard slash security guy. I need something on you to keep you humble.”

“Hold on, I’m three minutes away.”

“Already?” He must have gone well over the speed limit.

He ignored her comment. “Embarrassing, huh? Let’s see. When I was still on the Teams, I played a prank on Joe Logan, one of the few married guys in our platoon, by putting an extra-large dildo in his duffle with a note that said he could finally satisfy his wife.”

“Danny!”

“Yeah. He got me back. Joe put up signs at our local hangout advertising a fundraiser for Danny Mayhew, who’d lost his dick in the line of duty. The dildo I’d snuck into his duffle was hanging from one of the signs.”

A laugh burst out of her so hard she snorted. “You guys were rough on each other.”

“Nah, it was all in good fun.” His voice got quiet. “Joe was a good guy.”

Was. She hesitated. “What happened?”

“Afghanistan.” The word landed hard and sat between them in silence.

“I’m here. Tell me where to find you.” The rumble of the Mustang’s engine announced his arrival before the car appeared.

“I see you—I’m in the fourth row.” Isabella jumped out of the car and began waving to get his attention.

Danny rolled to a stop behind her and got out.

Relief nearly buckled her legs. She met him halfway as he rounded the Mustang, dressed in faded jeans and a white cotton T-shirt that highlighted the muscles in his chest and arms. The urge to throw herself at him was so strong she had to check herself.

He pulled her to his side and opened his passenger door. “Get in.”

“My car—”

“Let me check it out first.” He slipped back into the driver’s seat, then parked in an open space nearby. Before she could ask what he was doing, he reached across her to open his glove box.

Her gaze snagged on the handgun.

Reaching beneath it, Danny withdrew a zip-lock bag. “Give me your key.”

“It’s in my purse in my car.”

“I’m going to leave the Mustang engine running. Lock the doors when I get out.”

She turned her head to follow his movements as he took the plastic bag and strode to her car. From his jeans pocket, he withdrew a blue latex glove and worked his hand into it before picking the paper off the ground.

His easy charm had vanished. What remained was colder. Sharper.

Dangerous.

He straightened and placed the note in the plastic bag. This was a side of Danny she didn’t recognize—the part forged during his service as a Navy SEAL.

But damn if this version didn’t make her heart beat faster—still her protector, just a deadlier version. He didn’t know, but she’d found out how he’d warned pretty much every boy in their high school that if they hurt her, they’d answer to him.