Page 14 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

I didn’t sleep a wink. Not only was I riled up with paranoia, but I also had a nightmare. One of the reasons I haven’t minded taking jobs that run on naps instead of full nights’ sleep is because of this. I haven’t had one in a while. I’ve had a good run recently.

But last night, thinking about Cameron coming, triggered the dark, creeping regrets and inadequacies that started when I left the SEALs.

And after one sweaty, startled wake-up with me reaching for a nonexistent gun, I didn’t want to let myself fall asleep again.

Not with a chance of calling out in my sleep and waking Lara and Freya. I didn’t even get a nap after two a.m.

I feel like crap.

And on top of all that, Anton texted he was flying back on the last flight out and that there’s some big shit to discuss.

It was enough to keep my mind reeling because of my big shit discovery to top it all off.

The fact that Cameron knows where Lara is now?

That he’s here in California? It makes me want to drag her into my arms and bolt the doors behind us.

I sit up, raking a hand through my hair, already feeling like a wreck. I’m still digging through the mounds of blankets for a shirt when my phone buzzes.

ANTON

OUTSIDE. DIDN’T WANT TO KNOCK THIS EARLY. brOUGHT COFFEE.

I slip quietly out the front door and onto the fire escape-style landing, careful not to let it creak. Birds chirp, and the sky is just starting to lighten with morning haze. Anton leans against the railing.

“You could have had the courtesy to invite me to the party.” He holds one cup out. “Looks like it was a bender.”

I take it and lift the hot cup in the air. “Hair of the dog,” I grunt and sip. “Didn’t sleep.”

Anton nods as if he knows why, but also as if all he can do for me is nod.

He pulls out a small notebook from his back pocket and opens it to his entries.

“Got Cameron’s last few addresses, checked his whereabouts at the times the notes were left.

He had a restraining order filed on him three years ago and another was dropped.

He was also brought in for breaking and entering back in college but he got off.

Frat buddy’s dad was a lawyer.” He taps the top entry. “You were right to keep her close.”

I take the papers and study them. After scanning Cam’s record, I check out his employer’s records.

“Wait.” I examine the dates. “This break-in at Lara’s, the night the money and note were left, he was at work? Do I have that right?”

“You do.” Anton is grave. “Old Cammie boy was reportedly working night shifts in Albuquerque at the time.”

“Reportedly working,” I echo. But I also realize it’s not right next door. “It is nearly an hour from Santa Fe…”

He nods. “It could be he slipped out. Or maybe he has a friend at work who isn’t afraid to lie on the stand if he gets caught. But this alibi means we don’t have an airtight breaking-and-entering case to pursue unless we get his face on CCTV or his prints somewhere.”

I lean against the wall, the bricks cool beneath my shoulder. Shit. We want to nail Cameron for breaking in. That has jail time. Unfortunately, stalking is hard to prove, most of the evidence being circumstantial. We’ll need to get the trap set after all. I was hoping to avoid that.

But I also know better than to stop asking questions. “Let’s say maybe he didn’t leave that money. And maybe he didn’t take the photos? So what’s the explanation then?”

“Maybe someone else helped him.”

I hate every possible answer and every question that follows.

Too many maybes.

“A stalker with an accomplice?” I doubt it.

Anton goes quiet, somehow concurring in the silence. “Look, hopefully we’ll find evidence he left work that night. I’ve asked for CCTV footage from his workplace to confirm. We’ll keep digging. But there’s also the problem of no sign of forced entry.”

I think of Lara curled in bed, her profile soft in sleep.

I picture a lens trained on her, Cameron’s finger hovering over the screen, and the need to break every bone in his hands blurs my vision.

I want to crush his throat for daring to touch her world—as if she’s still my future. The way she used to be.

My jaw aches, my chest pounds. This doesn’t feel like a job at all. I wish it did.

He speaks calmly, as if I won’t like what he’s about to say. “Is it possible that at one point Lara gave Cameron a key? We need to be a hundred percent clear on the access issue.”

“I doubt she gave him a key. Lara is a woman raised by two protective parents who enrolled her in self-defense classes when she went away to college and a brother who taught her to think everyone is the enemy before they’re a friend.”

But I never directly asked her that question because it seemed like the kind of thing she’d tell me up front. And asking will result in one of two responses. If she gave him a key, it’ll be fine. If she didn’t, she will fly off the handle and think I’m assuming she’s stupid.

This is going to be fun.

He senses my doubt. “You’re going to ask her?”

“Yeah. I just need to pick the right time.”

“Now would be good…”

We’re interrupted by the apartment door creaking open behind me.

“Gabriel?”

Freya pokes her head out, rubbing sleep from one eye, her voice still husky from bed. She’s in a threadbare tank top and cotton shorts that look like they lost a fight with the dryer. Anton goes silent beside me.

Freya blinks at him, then offers a drowsy smile. “Hey, Anton, right? From book club?”

He clears his throat but doesn’t say anything. It’s like his whole world has stilled.

Freya laughs gently, not taking her eyes off him. “Do you want to come in? We have a tragic coffee situation, but I’m working on it.”

He nods, not breathing again until she disappears inside.

His words are supposed to be some sort of excuse for drooling. “I introduced myself at book club.”

I roll my eyes. “Keep it in your pants.”

Anton side-eyes me. “What?”

“You didn’t blink for thirty seconds.”

He shrugs, takes a long sip of coffee like he’s unbothered. “Worry about yourself, brother. You’re the one half-feral over Lara.”

I shoot him a look.

“What?” he says again, like I’m the unreasonable one. “Freya’s gorgeous. Sue me. It’s not like I’m getting dog tags with her name on them.”

I shake my head and push through the door.

Inside, the apartment is quiet. Sunlight spills through the windows, catching dust motes in the air. Everything is too still.

Freya’s already in the kitchen, fussing with the coffeepot like she’s hosting brunch, not two guys already holding takeaway cups. Lara’s nowhere in sight, but the faint whoosh of the shower and her animated, off-key singing carries from behind the bathroom door.

Despite the serious start to my morning, Lara’s joy tugs at the corner of my mouth. She’s always done that to me—lit up the worst days with something as simple as her laugh, her voice. Hearing her now, carefree and unguarded, makes me ache for every year I went without it.

Anton drops into the armchair by the bookshelf and stretches out like he owns the place. “So when are you going to ask her?”

I fold my arms. “Not until I know more.”

“We’re not going to know more until we ask,” he says flatly.

He’s right. I know he’s right. But the thought of sitting Lara down and asking if she handed over a key to an unhinged maniac? It feels like a betrayal. Like reopening a wound just as it’s starting to clot.

Freya hands him a mug. “Cream or sugar?”

“Black’s good. Thank you.” He takes it with a nod, despite already having one in his hand.

He gives her a look that’s a little too steady for first thing in the morning.

Shit.

Anton’s still watching her as she moves back to the sink. “Nice place.”

“It’s temporary,” she says. “But it’s got charm. And Gabriel’s been a good couch decoration.”

“I bet he has,” Anton somehow both agrees and mocks me at the same time.

I cut in before things get off track. I’m not here to flirt. I’m not here to see if I can graduate from the sofa to Lara’s bed. I’m here to do a job I promised my best friend I’d do.

“We need evidence. We’ve got to do this outside the box.”

The shower turns off, and Lara hits a high note which sounds even louder without the water running. Even off-key, her voice tilts my world.

God, the last thing I want is for her to be bait in our entrapment plan. We need evidence on Cameron.

Anton places both his coffees on the side table.

“We could potentially get his cell records, I mean, besides the burner phone. If we ask GhostEye for more help, this will move faster. The problem we have now is that Cameron having an alibi has taken away probable cause. So will Callum still write the order for GhostEye?”

I already called in the favor with Callum, Chief of Police here in Echo Valley, to legally allow GhostEye to poke around Cameron’s digital footprint.

“We still have reasonable suspicion for breaking and entering. I’m sure Callum will extend permission. Hopefully Rio has bandwidth for this because Enzo and Ava left for Tahiti, and their guys are slammed in San Francisco.”

Anton gives a faraway smile, probably thinking about Ava finally living out her travel dreams, before getting back on track. “Good. I’ll review the CCTV this afternoon. I also have doorbell camera footage from both Lara’s and Cameron’s neighbors in Santa Fe.”

“How do you charm your way into these gifts?” I smirk.

Anton is about six-five, built like an ox, and probably scary to the naked eye, but I have a feeling, as I’ve seen around Ava and now Freya, he can turn into a teddy bear instead with the click of his fingers.

He winks. “I use the magic word. Please works like a charm.”

At that moment, Lara walks out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. White, too short, tucked just above the swell of her chest. Her long blonde hair is wet and clinging to her skin that is still flushed from the heat of the shower.

My body reacts before my brain catches up.

A slow, hot surge punches me low. It’s not just the towel. It’s her. Bare. Real. Still damp and glowing like she stepped out of every goddamn fantasy I used to have about her… and a few I never let myself imagine.

She grabs a claw clip off the dining room table then vanishes into her bedroom with a casual, “Morning.”

I don’t breathe until the door clicks shut.

My body’s on fire. But it’s not just want. It’s that bone-deep ache I’ve been trying to outrun for years. That flicker of what could’ve been, burning under my skin like a curse.

And now she’s walking around half-naked in the one place I’m supposed to keep sacred. Protected. Untouched.

And all I want to do is touch her. Every inch. Run my hands beneath that towel and sink into the heat of her until I forget the world.

I won’t. It’s not my mission and it’s not hers either.

Lara will be leaving, and I will be staying.

But God, I want to.

I need to talk to Lara more about the past. About why I had to keep running.

Or maybe it’s best not to say. Maybe it’s best just to move on from where we are. From who we are now, instead of clinging to the version of us I can’t have.

But it kills to be this close to her and yet so far away.

It was never like this back in those days. The best days of my life were the ones I spent chasing her around, watching her. I would have been her bodyguard, and more, forever. But that’s not what God had planned for me.

Anton snorts beside me, yanking me out of the spiral. “You’re telling me you’re not feral?”

I crack my neck, trying to reset something in my spine. “We’ve got work to do.”

He stands and downs his coffee from the mug then snatches up his to-go cup. “So you’re going to ask her today?”

“Maybe.”

“Or maybe you’ll wait until she’s in deeper than she already is.”

I don’t answer.

Because she’s not just in deep.

She’s already drowning, and if I don’t get this right, I won’t just lose her.

I’ll be the reason she goes under.