Page 57 of Missile Strike

The terror.

Three days of hell reduced to a few lines of text in a newspaper.

“It’s hot. I need air.” Her fingers fumbled with the vents.

Danny tapped the temperature control on his console. Icy air blasted into the car. His hand covered hers briefly before returning to the gearshift. “You’re safe, Bella. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She latched onto the calm certainty in his voice, even as part of her grasped for control that seemed to slip further from her desperate fingers.

“Take Providence Road.”

Danny glanced at her but didn’t argue. He changed direction, heading away from the interstate.

Their speed slowed, and the scenery blossomed. Large canopies of green shaded the sidewalks. Churches made of stone and red brick—the architecture more Gothic Revival closer to the city center, the styles refining, then modernizing the further south they traveled. New apartment buildings and infill townhomes grew in every available space like kudzu.

So much had changed in the thirteen years she’d lived here.

A reminder that nothing lasted forever.

The thought should have comforted her.

Instead, it left her unsettled.

Her phone chirped with the text tone she’d assigned to Talia.

Finally.

She dove into her purse. Opened her messages.

I saw the article in the Times. Work’s been crazy. Are you okay? I’m flying back this weekend. Meet me for lunch on Monday. XOXO—T.

Thanks. I can’t wait to see you.

No sooner had she sent her reply when her phone rang. Her father’s number flashed on the screen.

She glanced at Danny. Her fingers tightened around the phone. “It’s my dad.”

“Send him a text and tell him you’ll call him later.”

“You want me to ignore my father?”

The ringing stopped.

Then Danny’s phone rang.

He grimaced, then pressed a button on his steering wheel. “Senator Strickland.”

“Have you seen this morning’s Charlotte Times?” Graham Strickland’s voice boomed through the car’s speakers. “Where’s Isabella? How did this happen?”

“Yessir, we’ve seen it. Bella’s with me, and we’re dealing with it. I’m sure you’ll hear from her later. Gotta go.” Danny disconnected the call.

Isabella gasped. “You hung up on my dad.”

“Yep. And I’ll probably get an earful from my boss.” If Danny’s expression was anything to go by, he didn’t care.

She couldn’t remember the last time someone had defied her father. Especially not on her behalf.

A part of her admired his attitude. She was tempted to use him as a buffer between her and the world right now—hide behind him like a human shield.