Page 92 of Missile Strike

“Fuck.” His head dropped. When he raised it, the desire in his eyes had cooled to something harder. “That’s Caleb. I have to answer.”

He rolled away and reached for his phone, already moving before it stopped ringing, while she admired his bare back and the sculpted muscles of his ass.

“Your timing sucks,” he growled into the phone.

Whatever Caleb told him had him tensing. “Give me an hour.”

Isabella sat up as he bent to retrieve his clothes from the floor. But it was the gun she hadn’t noticed before on the bedside table that commanded her attention.

She pointed to it. “Why is that here?”

He glanced at the gun as if just now realizing it was there. “I always keep my weapon nearby.” A curtain dropped over his emotions. “It’s who I am, Bella. My job is to keep you safe.”

Keep her safe.

With one sentence, he’d placed their relationship back to bodyguard and client.

She didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The same hands that had touched her with such tenderness were equally capable of ending life.

Something inside her deflated. Her lover from last night was gone.

A brief flash of regret shadowed his eyes. “Caleb and I need to meet with hotel security and our police liaison. Tavari will stay here with you while I’m gone.”

“Why?” She slid from the bed, her fingers curling into the mattress before she forced herself to stand. “What’s happened?”

“A national activist group with Antifa ties has filed for a protest permit for the night of your father’s gala.”

“Oh, crap.” She dropped back onto the mattress. “I need to talk to my dad.”

Danny moved to crouch in front of her. He’d managed to get his pants on, but his shirt lay slung over his shoulder. The gun had disappeared. “We’ll handle it, honey. My company deals with things like this all the time. It’ll be okay.”

He reached for the back of her neck, pulling her down for a kiss before he let her go. “Get dressed.” His gaze heated as it traveled down her body. “No one gets to see you looking this sexy but me.”

Then he strode out the door, Trip padding after him, while she tried to recover from the puddle she’d melted into at the possessiveness in his voice. Her room already felt different. Empty.

She had it bad for Danny Mayhew—she had since the first day Jaynie introduced her to her big brother.

After a quick shower, she checked her phone for messages. Annalise had posted photos in the family group chat of Brooks in his high chair trying spaghetti for the first time. Isabella laughed at the sight of the baby covered in red pasta sauce, a fistful of noodles clutched in one chubby hand and a huge grin on his face.

There was also a message from Talia.

Thinking of you. I’m working from home today if you need a friendly face.

Isabella smiled. She messaged her friend back.

Any chance you can come over? Danny has a meeting uptown, and one of his colleagues is babysitting. I could use the company.

What time?

Isabella’s shoulders loosened. Talia had always been good at showing up exactly when she needed a friend.

An hour? Danny’s leaving around then.

Perfect. I’ll come by after he heads out. You make coffee, I’ll bring bagels.—T.

By the time Isabella made it downstairs, Danny was already in the kitchen, sipping coffee and talking on his phone. He’d dressed in gray slacks and a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, his hair tied back behind his head.

Halfway across the room, she stopped.