Chapter Twenty-Two
The doorbell rang. Trip barked and bounded to the door, his tail a windmill of joy.
Tavari was already on his feet, the former SEAL sniper crossing the room before Isabella could move.
She darted after him. “It’s my friend, Talia—I’m expecting her.”
Blue-gray eyes stared down at her with a hint of suspicion. “Danny didn’t tell me you were expecting company.”
“I didn’t tell him. He has more important things to focus on than whether my best friend drops by.”
When Tavari didn’t move, she huffed and reached around him for the doorknob.
“I don’t think—” he began.
“It’s fine.” She squared her shoulders and held her ground. “He’s met Talia.”
With obvious reluctance, Tavari stepped to the side, still keeping his body angled toward the door as she opened it.
Dark clouds gathered in the distance, punctuated by a low rumble of thunder as Talia stood on her doorstep, dressed in a short black skirt and sleeveless brick-red wrap top that complemented the olive undertones of her skin.
“Bagels and cream cheese, as promised.” She held up a brown paper bag.
Her attention shifted over Isabella’s shoulder to Tavari. She tipped her head, openly appraising him. “And who is this? Did you trade Danny in for a hotter model?”
Isabella took the paper sack and waved her friend inside. “This is Tavari. He works with Danny. Don’t embarrass him.”
“Me? Embarrass someone?” Talia patted Trip on the head, then fluffed her auburn hair as she cranked her neck back to stare up at Tavari. “Am I embarrassing you by saying that you are the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome?”
Poor Tavari. Isabella didn’t know whether to laugh or cringe. Subtlety was not one of Talia’s strengths.
Tavari went still, a hint of color darkening his cheeks. He looked at Isabella as if expecting her to save him.
“Come on.” Taking Talia’s hand, she tugged her toward the kitchen. “Bagels and coffee first, then we’ll go upstairs and leave Tavari alone.”
Talia had the good sense to keep quiet while they prepared the bagels, offering one to Tavari before they took their mid-morning snack and climbed the stairs to the second floor.
“Do you know who he looks like?” Talia stage-whispered the moment Isabella closed her bedroom door. “That hot guy from the Fast and Furious franchise.” Her forehead furrowed, then her face lit up. “Slap Jack—that was the character’s name. Only the cutie downstairs is way taller.”
Isabella settled onto the bed, balancing her plate on her knees. Heat crept through her as memories of what she’d done with Danny here last night flooded her. The sheets still smelled like him. “I have no idea who you are talking about.”
Talia laughed as she fluffed pillows to prop up her back. “I see I have some work to do expanding your horizons, that’s all.” She patted Isabella’s leg. “Tell me what’s been going on since that man accosted you at the bank. Have they found him yet?”
“Danny hasn’t said anything.” Isabella pursed her lips. “I don’t think so—he’s not letting me out of his sight. Except today, and well…” She pointed toward her bedroom door. “You see I have company.”
“So,” Talia drawled. “Your hottie bodyguard is all protective and macho.” She gestured to the romance novel on Isabella’s nightstand. “Get any ideas?”
Isabella froze.
“Oooh.” Talia leaned in, her gaze openly curious. “Spill the deets.”
“Last night, we…” Isabella’s gaze fell away. She took a bite of her bagel.
Talia gave a mock gasp. “You had sex? You little slut!”
Isabella nearly choked on her food, her cheeks burning. “Yes. But keep your voice down. His colleague downstairs doesn’t need to know that.”
“Yeah, I would imagine sleeping with the client is a big no-no.”
Isabella sobered at the reminder that she was Danny’s job. “He said he’d try to stay. For me.”
Talia took a sip of her coffee, studying the dark liquid. “Did he say that before or after he had sex with you?”
Ouch. That landed. “After.” Isabella set her plate aside.
Outside her bedroom windows, the soft, steady hush of rain deepened as the storm arrived in full force.
“Post-sex euphoria.” Talia’s fingers brushed over her bent knee. “I just don’t want you to be hurt when he gets restless and decides staying in Charlotte isn’t enough.”
“He won’t.” If Isabella said it with enough conviction, maybe she’d believe it.
“You’re probably right.” Talia bit into her bagel and chewed. Her smile turned wistful. “I’m just jealous because you have a love life and I don’t. People can make anything work if they love one another.”
The words started out small, then spread through Isabella like a slow poison. Danny said he’d try to stay—but he hadn’t said he loved her.
Talia’s eyes narrowed as if she’d read Isabella’s thoughts, but she said nothing. “So, you wanted my help with the seating chart for the gala?”
Isabella sent her friend a grateful look for the change of subject. “I’ll get my files.”
It was noon by the time Danny and Caleb left their meeting with The Waverly’s head of security and the Charlotte police liaison.
The sharp click of the Mustang’s doors unlocking echoed off the walls of the hotel’s underground parking garage. As Danny slid behind the wheel, a familiar prickle lifted the hairs on the back of his neck.
Years spent in special operations had taught him to listen to his instincts. Something hovered just out of reach, and the obvious complications posed by the protests planned for the night of Senator Strickland’s re-election gala weren’t it.
Consuela came to life with a smooth rumble.
“It’s not ideal, but we’ve dealt with this before,” Caleb said, voicing Danny’s concerns.
“We’ve updated the threat assessment. Charlotte-Mecklenburg Police will ramp up the number of officers monitoring the protest and establish a buffer zone.
Hotel security and our team will control all the access points and monitor check-in, and the senator’s security detail will keep an eye on the senator and his family. ”
“I should be with Bella during the gala.” Danny shoved through the Mustang’s gears as he exited the garage onto the city streets. The sky was gray, blocking direct sunlight but not doing anything to alleviate the suffocating heat.
“You’re the lead coordinator. Once Isabella’s inside the security perimeter, the senator’s detail will keep an eye on her while we make sure no one gets in that doesn’t belong there.
” Caleb’s tone softened. “But I get it. As much as I trusted you and my cousin, I wasn’t willing to leave Gia’s safety to anyone but me. ”
“Omar Hassan is still out there.” Danny settled his Oakleys on his face as a persistent throb took up residence at his temple. “And we don’t know what his next move will be.”
The guy was covering his tracks well if Nathan couldn’t locate him.
And a smart enemy was a dangerous one.
The inner loop of I-77 was a congested maze of multiple entrance and exit ramps where cars performed a dangerous dance, weaving in and out as they crossed paths. The ramp for I-77 South loomed ahead on the left.
Danny shifted lanes, taking the exit that curved over the interstate in a loop. He tapped the brakes. The pedal was mushy beneath his boot, the Mustang barely slowing.
Strange.
When had he last had the brakes serviced?
“This highway sucks.” He pressed the gas pedal, easing Consuela well over the speed limit just to stay with the flow of traffic.
The lanes were narrow and shifting, marked with potholes. Cars dodged each other like they were on the last lap of a NASCAR race. Fitting, given that the NASCAR Hall of Fame was a couple of blocks from The Waverly.
Overhead, low-hanging clouds rolled in, turning the sky greenish-gray. Wind scattered debris like tumbleweeds across the highway.
“Storm’s moving in,” Caleb observed.
Danny focused on the patches of blue in the sky ahead. All he wanted was to get home and back to Bella.
The things he planned to do with her when he got her back in bed…
“What the hell are you thinking about?” Amusement colored Caleb’s question. “Do I even want to know?”
A grin curved Danny’s lips. “Probably not.”
Splashes of rain had just begun to collide with his windshield when a high-pitched whine drew his attention to the rearview mirror.
A red Lamborghini maneuvered from lane to lane, bobbing and weaving past cars like a prizefighter in the ring.
Close behind it, a black BMW tried to keep up, its turbocharged engine letting out a throaty roar.
Danny kept to the center lane. “Look at these assholes.”
He loved speed, but he only opened Consuela up when he could do it safely.
Caleb twisted in his seat to look behind them before turning back with a disgusted shake of his head. “An accident waiting to happen.”
The Lamborghini got stuck behind a car in the left lane and slid across the middle, coming up on Danny’s right. The BMW followed.
Up ahead, a truck was entering the highway and about to run out of its merging lane, boxing the Lamborghini in between Consuela and the truck.
Shit. Danny let off the gas.
Without warning, the Lamborghini cut in front of him.
His foot slammed on the brake.
The pedal sank to the floor.
Instinct took over as Danny pumped the pedal once, twice to build pressure as he swerved into the left lane to avoid rear-ending the Lamborghini, narrowly missing a Honda.
Horns blared.
“No brakes,” he gritted out.
No left shoulder. No place to go.
The rear of the vehicle in front of him was coming up too fast.
He shoved the clutch pedal down, dropping from fifth to fourth gear, then tapped the gas pedal to raise the RPMs so he didn’t lock the wheels and stress the drivetrain.
“Come on, Consuela, baby. Work with me here.” The engine howled in protest, but the Mustang dropped speed.
He downshifted and tapped the gas again, then slowly raised the emergency brake lever. The rear tires dragged, rubber biting into wet asphalt. Danny slapped on his hazard lights and eventually brought Consuela to a stop in the fast lane as cars zipped around them.
The clouds above them opened up, fat drops turning into a steady downpour that reduced visibility and slowed traffic.
Silence filled the car. Neither of them moved.
“Well, that was interesting,” Caleb said.
“That shouldn’t have happened.” Danny glanced at his teammate. “I baby this car.”
Caleb gave him an assessing look. “Chaos would’ve called this an exciting day.” He used Danny’s SEAL team nickname.
Danny kept his eyes on the rain pelting his windshield.
If Bella had been with him instead of Caleb…
Ice settled in his gut. “The next exit isn’t that far, and we’ve got to get out of this lane before some inattentive driver takes us out.”
Caleb quirked a brow. “You’re going to get us to the next exit with no brakes.”
“Piece of cake.” Danny flashed a grin that didn’t match his mood. “As long as I haven’t completely toasted the emergency brake.”
Now that they weren’t dead, he could finagle their way off this highway from hell. He wanted a peek at the brake lines before they called for a tow, and he wasn’t stupid enough to get under the car with low visibility and vehicles whipping past him at high speed, despite road conditions.
Leaving his hazard lights flashing, he eased Consuela into the middle lane, then the right lane, then hugged the shoulder as they did a twenty-five-mile-an-hour crawl the quarter mile to the exit.
As luck would have it, a gas station appeared on the right.
He coasted into the lot, burning through what was left of his handbrake to come to a stop.
The downpour had exhausted itself into a drizzle.
“Let’s see what’s going on.”
Opening his door, Danny stepped out, crouching beside the rear wheel. A spatter of fluid glistened beneath the rear axle, creating a rainbow glaze on the rain-soaked pavement. He swiped a finger through the liquid and examined it. Pale amber and slick. An acrid chemical scent flared his nostrils.
His lips flattened. “Caleb, pop the hood and check the brake fluid reservoir.”
Caleb popped the front hood and peered underneath. “There’s some left, but not much.”
“It should be full.” Danny got his Maglite from the glove compartment and got down on his back beneath the rear chassis. Oily water dampened the cotton fabric of his white dress shirt, leaving a chill on his skin despite the humidity.
The brake line ran clean along the frame until it reached a section of rubber hose near the rear suspension. Fluid beaded there, falling in slow drops onto the pavement. He ran his finger over the leak, scrutinizing it. No rust, corrosion, or cracks, but in that one area…his hand stilled.
A narrow cut marred the otherwise pristine rubber.
Someone had tampered with his brake lines and done it in such a way that it wouldn’t be immediately noticeable.
Caleb’s boots appeared near his head. “Anything?”
“Someone nicked my brake line.” Danny inched out from beneath the car and stood, wiping his hands on a patch of nearby grass.
“Why target you?”
“If Omar Hassan is stalking Bella, he knows I’m staying with her.” Danny’s hands bracketed his hips. “Probably figured he needed to get me out of the way to get to her.”
Caleb leaned against the Mustang, arms folded. “When would he have had access to your car?”
Danny thought for a minute. “Consuela sat in the Providence Bank corporate garage the other day while I was meeting Olivia Flores at The Charlotte Times. She was unattended long enough for someone to get underneath her.”
Caleb frowned. “You don’t think someone tampered with her outside Isabella’s home?”
“No.” Danny shook his head. “Her security cameras would have picked up any activity. The damage wasn’t enough to cause an immediate leak—I would’ve noticed. Whoever did it nicked the hose and let time do the rest. Less obvious. More dangerous.”
He’d driven Bella on the highway to the gun range the next day. If the brakes had failed then, he could have gotten her killed.
An icy rage moved through him, settling behind his ribs. “We need to find Hassan. As soon as we get Consuela towed to a garage and I get a new ride, we head back to Bella’s.”
Caleb straightened. “I’ll call Ryder. We’ll need to file a police report.”
Pulling out his phone, Danny glanced back at the Mustang. “We can do that once we get back to Bella’s.”
If Hassan thought cutting his brakes would scare him off, the bastard had no idea who he’d just picked a fight with.