Page 70 of Missile Strike

Two bites into her salad, Talia gave her a pointed stare. “You look exhausted. Tell me what happened while I was gone.”

“What didn’t happen?” Isabella huffed. “I gave The Charlotte Times reporter the interview she wanted. Then I left work to find a threatening note on my car.”

Another sip of water to moisten her suddenly dry throat. “It mentioned missile strikes.”

Talia stilled, her hand pausing halfway to her glass. “Missile strikes?”

“I know, right?” Isabella’s fork stabbed the air. “Then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, the article came out the next morning.”

Her childhood, exposed to the world. She caught the eye of an older man in a gray business suit seated at one of the other tables, staring as if he might know her.

Or was trying to place her.

Her gaze darted away. Had he recognized her from the newspaper story?

Or was it something else? Something related to her father?

“Everything I’ve worked so hard to put behind me…”

“Oh, Izzy. I’m so sorry.” Talia set her iced tea down carefully. “It’s not fair that some of us spend our lives cleaning up messes we didn’t make.” She blinked and gave a small, self-conscious shrug. “That came out heavier than I meant it to. I hate that you’re paying for decisions your father made.”

A soft smile curved Isabella’s lips. “I know. You’re a good friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Talia’s hand crept over hers. Squeezed. “Are you scared?”

“I don’t know.” Her salad no longer held any appeal. “Not when Danny’s around—he’s staying at my place.”

She lowered her voice so only Talia could hear. “We almost had sex.”

The disapproval in Talia’s eyes stung.

“I still want him,” Isabella admitted. “And I’m pretty sure he wants me. But he keeps pulling back because his job is to protect me.”

Talia cocked her head. “I can tell he cares about you.” She leaned in, concern shadowing her expression. “That doesn’t mean he’ll stay.”

Isabella’s gaze fell to her hands, an instinctive denial dying in her throat.

“Don’t make the mistake of falling for him again,” Talia said. “Yeah, he’s hot, but—and I’m going to be blunt again because I love you—you are an old memory for him to revisit. But when this job is over, he’ll be gone and you’ll be brokenhearted. Again.”

Ouch.

“I won’t. I know he’s leaving.”

Talia motioned for the check. “I sense a change of subject is in order. Let’s grab some ice cream in the atrium before my two o’clock meeting.”

“I’m sorry.” Isabella gathered her purse and offered her friend a guilty smile. “You’re probably slammed after being out of town.”

Talia waved away her apology. “Please. You said you needed to talk. I’m here.”

Danny had been very clear that she wasn’t to go past the security desk in the main lobby until he arrived. But the atrium was attached to the Providence Bank corporate center. She wouldn’t be going outside.

Still, she hesitated. “Danny wanted me to wait.”

Talia’s posture stiffened, then relaxed. “So you wait.”

She pushed the button in the elevator for the ground floor. “I’ll run and get the ice cream while you hang in the lobby.” The car sped downwards, slowed, then stopped with a bounce before the doors swished open. “Chocolate peanut butter cup, right? Be back in a few.”

Danny didn’t go to The Waverly.