Chapter Nine
I wanted you to touch me.
Early morning sun filtered through the canopy of leaves, dappling the greenway where Danny had chosen to run.
He’d come to clear his mind so he could focus on his job.
Securing the gala.
Keeping Bella safe.
Instead, he couldn’t escape Bella’s words from the night before.
For six miles he’d tried.
His feet pounded the dirt path, weaving around exposed roots and furrows carved by runoff. He’d survived firefights that left less of a mark than Bella standing in her driveway, telling him he hadn’t understood a single thing about her.
Entering the clearing where he’d started, he stopped to stretch before heading to his car.
Dammit.
He’d done the right thing the day after Jaynie’s funeral, and he needed to continue to do the right thing now, even if he’d spent last night dreaming of doing far more than simply kissing Bella.
Her lips had been soft, her mouth sweet and spicy from the cinnamon mints she liked to suck on.
Her skin smelled warm and clean, faintly sweet, and something else.
Home.
She smelled like home.
The realization hit hard.
He shoved the car through its gears with more force than necessary, heat flaring beneath his sternum.
She’d wanted him then.
And if the hunger in her expression last night was any indication, she wanted him now.
Even so, he couldn’t take advantage of her that way.
She was stressed—her safety threatened. His job was to restore stability to her life, not bring more chaos into it. He hadn’t missed the way her nails dug into the soft skin of her thigh when they’d been in his car searching for Trip.
Her open front door nagged at him like a memory he couldn’t quite retrieve. No sign of forced entry, nothing missing, and Bella’s laptop had been with her, so the would-be intruder—if there was one—hadn’t accessed her computer.
He wanted Bella somewhere he could control the security environment. Unfortunately, she was already one argument away from telling him where he could stick his protection detail, and the evidence wasn’t there to back up his instincts.
At least he’d gotten her cameras back online and linked to his phone.
He sipped his grande dark roast from the drive-through and forced his attention back to gala security. Last night, he’d forwarded the guest list to Nathan, and they had a videoconference at eleven hundred.
After showering and changing into clean clothes, he pored over the notes he’d made at The Waverly so he and his team could map out security zones, incident response, and protective posture.
He made a note to call his contact at the Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police Department to coordinate their presence at the gala.
At eleven a.m., he clicked on his videoconference app and dialed into Dìleas headquarters. Nathan popped up on the screen. A few seconds later, Ryder appeared from his office in London.
“Before we get into details,” Nathan began, “I have news. Miran Hassan died this morning in a Los Angeles motel room.”
Danny’s back hit the chair. “No shit. How?”
“Heart attack,” Nathan replied. “I hacked into his prison medical records. High blood pressure, coronary artery disease and a history of AFib. So, while the timing is suspect, it’s possible the stress of getting released after eighteen years in prison into a society he didn’t recognize with no family waiting pushed him over the edge. ”
Well, damn.
Bella’s kidnapper was dead. That took one security threat off the table.
He needed to tell her.
She deserved to know. Her father would probably sweep Hassan’s death under the rug in the misguided belief that not mentioning her kidnapper’s name was protection.
But she was stronger than her father gave her credit for. With Hassan dead, maybe some of that control she clung to like a life raft would loosen, and she’d allow herself to experience more things.
Ryder joined the conversation. “Your mission hasn’t changed. Lachlan just got off the phone with Senator Strickland. He wants you to continue protecting his daughter until the gala is over.”
“And after?” Danny asked.
After, he’d be out of Bella’s life. All the more reason to keep things professional and not let his libido call the shots.
“The current threat assessment is focused on the gala,” Ryder said. “If someone intends to harm the senator, the fundraiser is the obvious target. Once the event is over, the threat to Miss Strickland as a private citizen is low enough that Dìleas’s presence is unnecessary.”
He held a manila file folder up to the camera. “Finish the Strickland assignment, then take the leave you’re owed. When you get back, I have another assignment waiting.”
Danny took a sip of his coffee, long since cold, and forced it past a tight throat. He’d always looked forward to the next adventure.
But it would be hard to leave Bella.
“Nathan and Ryan are vetting the guest list,” Ryder continued. “I’m sending Caleb and Tavari to Charlotte next week to finalize preparations with you and be your team on the ground. You’ll also need to coordinate with Senator Strickland’s security detail.”
“Roger that.” Danny’s gaze fixed on the timestamp in the lower right corner of his monitor. Bella was working from home today. He could stop by as soon as this meeting wrapped up.
“Are we keeping you from something, Danny?” Nathan drawled.
The sound of his name snapped his attention back to the monitor.
Shit.
“Sorry, just figuring something out in my head.”
His former SEAL team leader’s eyes narrowed. “You’re planning on telling the senator’s daughter about Hassan, aren’t you?”
Sometimes he hated how well Nathan knew him.
“Don’t you think you should leave that to Senator Strickland?” Ryder cautioned.
Danny gave a disgusted snort. “He won’t. He thinks he’s protecting her by keeping her in the dark.”
“For the record, I agree with you—I think we both do.” Nathan shrugged his massive shoulders. “But if the senator finds out, be prepared for a shitstorm.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Thirty minutes later, Danny pulled into Bella’s driveway. He rang the doorbell and heard Trip bark.
The deadbolt slid back with a click.
Bella stood in the open doorway, dressed in a white cotton tee and black tennis skirt. Her bare feet made him even more aware of their height difference.
“I wasn’t expecting you.” She stepped aside, allowing him entry.
“I have news I wanted to tell you in person.” He cursed himself as a flash of fear darkened her eyes to amber.
She gestured to the couch.
He waited for her to take a seat, his stomach sinking when her hand crept to the bare skin of her thigh beneath the hem of her skirt.
“Miran Hassan is dead.”
Bella blinked. “How?”
“Heart attack.”
Her fingers stilled. Eyes closing, she drew a breath. When she lifted her lashes, a glassy sheen covered them. “Thank you for telling me. My father wouldn’t have.”
“I know.”
She glanced away before returning to meet his gaze. “Is it awful of me to feel this relief?”
The urge to touch her, wrap her in his arms, and tell her everything would be okay overwhelmed him. “It makes you human.”
All the air seemed to deflate from her posture.
Silence settled between them.
“Does this mean you’re not my undercover bodyguard anymore?” Her eyes, framed by long dark lashes, looked enormous in her delicate face.
What was she really asking, and how did he frame a response that wouldn’t get her guard up?
“My duties haven’t changed. Based on the current threat assessment, the gala is the most likely target for a bad actor, and once it’s over, any credible threat to you is unlikely.” He should have felt relieved. Instead, he had the nagging sense that he was missing something small but important.
“And you’ll be gone.”
A dull ache wove around his upper ribs. “I have another assignment waiting, so, yeah.”
Which is what he should do now. Leave.
He stood. “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.” He pasted on his patented, careless grin. “See you Friday for the security walkthrough at The Waverly. I can pick you up.”
“Don’t do that.” Temper sharpened her words.
His grin faded. “Do what?”
“Give me that fake, cheesy grin.”
Arms crossed, she glared at him. “I know what your real one looks like—I know you, remember? Just because we haven’t seen each other for over a decade doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what your real smile looks like versus the one you give when you want everyone to think you’re fine.”
Damn.
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts to stay his feet. Bolting would not be a good look.
“Sorry.” With a weary sigh, she waved a hand through the air as if to brush the words away. “Forget I said that.”
Her phone rang before he could think of a single thing to say other than goodbye.
Bella walked over to where it sat on the couch. She frowned. “It’s The Charlotte Times.”
“Is it that reporter? Don’t answer.”
She gave him an eye-roll. “I’m going to answer.”
“Then put it on speakerphone.”
She huffed but did as he requested. “Hello?”
“Ms. Strickland? It’s Olivia Flores, I’m calling to see if you’ve thought about my request for an interview.”
Danny shook his head.
“I’ve been busy,” Bella hedged.
“I’m hoping you’ll make time. This is a Charlotte story. An inside look at what it takes to organize an event of this stature, and the woman few people know who’s making it all happen behind the scenes.”
“Ms. Strickland’s personal life isn’t up for public consumption.”
An annoyed look flashed his way before Bella pressed a finger to her lips.
“I didn’t realize I was pitching to an audience of more than one.
” A hint of frustration filtered through the reporter’s voice.
“But I understand your concern. I’m not interested in writing an exposé on your personal life, Ms. Strickland.
I’m interested in the work. Readers see your father onstage, but they never see the people making an event like this happen.
You’re coordinating a major political fundraiser while balancing a career of your own. That’s a story people can relate to.”
Bella sucked in her lips. She put the phone on mute. “Hassan is dead.”
“That doesn’t mean there aren’t risks.”
One brow arched. “Aren’t you the one telling me I’m not adventurous enough?”
Shit. She was throwing his own words back at him. “Not this way.”
“It’s a local story for a local paper.” She took the phone off mute.
A flicker of unease tightened the back of Danny’s neck.
“Ms. Flores?” Bella’s voice firmed. “When do you want to meet?”