Page 26 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

The walk back from the bar starts out quiet.

Lara keeps pace beside me, her head tilted slightly like she’s somewhere else.

The streetlamps cast long shadows across the road, warm light catching in her hair—champagne and gold and temptation I have no business wanting.

I can almost feel the heat of her arm brushing mine, the phantom memory of her lips from earlier still burning on my mouth.

She’s close enough that I could reach out and touch her.

But I don’t.

I won’t.

We just buried the hatchet. Drew the line.

Friends. A word that feels like a life sentence instead of a reprieve.

It’s the right call. The safe one.

But safety’s a joke. One brush of her shoulder, one laugh cutting through the dark, and I know I can’t do this, can’t be just her friend. Not now. Not ever.

But I sure as hell am not going back to nothing.

I glance over at her blonde hair dancing on the breeze.

But can I really never touch her again?

I’ll train myself not to reach.

Because I can keep her body whole and away from danger but not her spirit. I can’t give her the joy she deserves. I’m shadows and scar tissue, and she should never have to carry that weight.

So why does it feel like I just handed her over to a version of myself that doesn’t get what it wants? What the hell am I going to do now? Grow closer to her over the next week or so while I try to eject Cameron from her life and then go back to being empty again?

That is going to fucking sting.

She’s talking now. Low, familiar, but edged with the low hum of something still unresolved. Or maybe I’m projecting.

She chats about how the café only bakes cinnamon rolls on Fridays and how the town smells like Starlight Canyon.

Then, her phone buzzes, and she flinches.

Every inch of my skin sears. Cameron?

She glances up at me with wide eyes before slowing pulling her phone from her purse.

As soon as she sees the screen, her tension melts away. She beams, showing me her cell. “Look what Poppy sent.”

It’s a photo of Xander, flat on his back, lipstick all over his face and eyebrows drawn halfway to his hairline with the caption: Frida Khalo.

Exhausted single dad energy radiates from the screen.

She considers the photo again. “He looks like a drag queen. Though I guess that fancy new school of theirs has a good art teacher.” She snorts.

Her laugh cracks open something in my chest.

Over the years, I missed that sound. And now that I’ve got it again, right here, right beside me, I want to drag it inside my rib cage and lock the damn door.

And maybe if I say friend enough times, I’ll stop wanting to be anything else.

We’re half a block from her apartment, where I parked. A light is on two floors above. Guess Freya’s all moved back in.

Anton’s truck is parked near Grenvista Trail, his silhouette leaning against the hood, arms folded. Even in the glow of the streetlights, his posture screams vigilance.

Lara notices him, too. “Looks like Anton’s on duty.”

Her tone is casual, but I catch the edge in it. She’s tired of being watched.

Anton straightens up as we approach. “Everything good?”

“Just had a drink.” I shrug. “We needed to talk.”

He nods, one of those quiet, supportive nods, in a way that says he’s proud of me, like I finally took care of business.

As if that’s what I did. We settled our problems out loud, but it doesn’t feel that way inside.

I am anything but settled now that she’s my friend again.

It’s only opened up a torrent of activity rushing toward making her more.

Anton points up to the apartment. “I swept the apartment before leaving Freya there. And I left your things in your room, Lara.”

Lara shifts her weight, arms crossing over her chest. “Thanks. Appreciate that.”

I wanted her to stay at Monarch Hills. Badly. Forever even. At least while I have to stay there and fulfill this standstill assignment.

But when we chatted this morning, she left me with no choice. Freya was getting grief from Kevin about staying with us, and Lara isn’t leaving her best friend in the apartment alone.

At least she offered the couch again.

And today I’ve eased up on Freya being a suspect.

With all my research today, and even with the help of GhostEye, I haven’t been able to connect Freya to Cameron or find one good reason Freya would want to intimidate Lara on his behalf. I only find the opposite really.

Years of supporting each other as friends.

Anton positioned the Santa Fe break-ins with explanations.

Maybe the girls left a first-floor window open and forgot.

But getting into the apartment in the ten to fifteen minutes Freya was out?

It still seems a high-risk break-in with a need for a lot of intel.

It doesn’t put me at ease that Freya wasn’t diligent with the locks seeing as Lara has a stalker.

Unless he has a key to both places.

This thing is a shitshow. We’re setting a trap for a man we have no proof was here.

And it is time for the trap. We’re getting nowhere, GhostEye has found nothing incriminating on Cameron besides what Anton found in New Mexico, and to top it off, the CCTV showed Cameron was at work that night.

Not that I’ve put it past him to splice it or to have an agreement with his manager who Anton said looked slippery.

And today, Ant also told me that one of our two desired locations will be free this weekend.

Arthur is headed to an exhibition in Carmel with Kat.

His hut in the woods will be empty. We first identified it as a location because we can surround it on all sides, but a stalker would view it as isolated.

Trap it is. Cameron has been here, and we need to end this. I told Xander I’d take care of it and I pride myself on keeping my word.

If it works, Lara can move on with her life and we stop a bastard from ever harming her or another woman. If it doesn’t, Lara has an evening in Arthur’s art retreat hut, and we have a failed stakeout.

We need to take the bull by the horns.

Anton clears his throat, his eyes hardening. “Actually, Lara, if you have a minute, it’s probably time we all talk.”

Anton shoots me a look that says now or never.

Her eyes widen. “Okay. Whoa. That was two shades more serious than usual. I thought you were the sunshine and he was the grump?” She hitches her thumb toward me.

Anton pushes off the truck. “Should we head upstairs and talk?”

I shake my head. “Not here. The place could be bugged. And it isn’t fair to stress out Freya over this.”

Anton doesn’t argue.

Lara’s jaw tightens, but she doesn’t argue either. I open Anton’s truck door for her to climb inside and follow her into the backseat.

Anton slides into the driver’s side, his jaw set like stone. He’s steady, always has been. And together, we’re lethal. Cameron’s not going to get past us. I’ve faced worse than him in the dark corners of this world. But the threat feels personal this time.

“All right,” he says. “We can’t just sit back and wait for Cameron to make the next move. We set a trap. We end this.”

Lara crosses her arms over her chest. Her eyes flash that cold fire that is absolute catnip to a guy like me.

“Let me guess,” she quirks an eyebrow, “you need a lure and I’m the bait.”

Anton smirks. “Quick as a whip, you are.”

“Should I remind you who my brother is?” She smirks back. “Did Xander ask you to keep him alive so he can torture him, too?”

He didn’t. But it’s a good idea.

Anton laughs. “You’re wasted in a desk job, Lara.”

I’m glad she’s still feeling brave and even finding humor, but this isn’t funny for me.

It’s not that I don’t trust Lara to be smart, hell, she used to get around me and Xander when we were younger.

And I trust Anton and me to outwit a basic civilian.

Still, Cameron was slick enough to plant a smoke bomb under our noses.

If he can pull that off in fifteen minutes, I’d be a fool to underestimate him again.

Putting him in jail is the only option. She can’t go on living with a shadow behind her all the time. Once he’s behind bars, she can breathe.

And… leave.

The thought settles heavy in my gut. We haven’t even had a chance for me to figure out how to be her friend. If I’m supposed to stay in one place to heal, it isn’t going to be easy not to chase her.

I focus on the plan to take my mind off her leaving.

“We control the ground. We control the outcome. We’re looking to put Cameron in the slammer so we need him to commit a crime.

Trespassing will land him in jail for a while.

A restraining order won’t.” I say it more for myself than for her.

“That’s the only reason we’d do this, Lara. It’s a long-term solution.”

If it were up to me, I’d go rogue. Make it so that he went behind bars, never wanting to come out again. There would be nothing left for him. Not even his legs to stand on.

“I can handle it.” Her features fill with determination. “Just tell me what to do.”

She is Xander’s sister through and through. I know she must be scared. She knows this isn’t playtime anymore.

But if I had one wish, it would be that we could end all of this without drawing danger toward her.

I take a trained breath that steadies the knife-edge of my concern.

“Arthur’s art cabin. Off Grenvista Trail, right by your apartment where we walked the first day.

Arthur is away for a few days, which is why we need to strike now.

We identified it as one possible location to draw Cameron out of hiding where we can rig cameras, alarms, the works. If Cameron shows, he’s ours.”

Lara frowns. “In the woods? Gosh, you guys know how to put on a show. I swear I saw something like this in a slasher film once.”

I’ll admit, it does sound like the opening to a horror movie.

I carry on as if it’s settled, because if I think about this too much longer, I might force us into a U-turn. I know Xander thought it was a good idea, entrapment, but now that the woman I care about is going to be the bait, it seems like the stupidest idea he’s ever had.

And we were teenagers together; he’s had quite a few.

Anton rubs his eyebrow. “Now comes how we tip Cam off to your whereabouts…”

Lara is already one step ahead. “I’ll just text Cameron directly.” Lara’s chin tips up. “I’ll tell Freya I have to do something this weekend and I’ll promise to tell her everything after.” Lara glances at me, and there’s guilt on her features. “It’s better if she’s not involved right now.”

I nod curtly.

“Hopefully, she’ll understand…”

It pains me to see how Lara crumbles under what she feels is a lie to her best friend.

I put my hand on her arm. “You know how you left Starlight Canyon so people wouldn’t worry about you?”

Her eyebrows raise.

“It’s like that.”

“Yeah. That’s true.” She concedes.

I turn my attention to Anton. “How far did you get with reeling in Callum and Luke for support?”

Anton cracks his knuckles. “They’re both off this weekend and up for a party.”

I know it’s just Anton’s way of talking, but nothing about this is fun.

Despite knowing Lara will be covered by two officers and two lethally trained ex-SEALs, my heart pounds hard as if telling me I’m about to fuck up. Putting Lara in the firing line is against all instinct.

Anton unfolds a drawing of the plan we made for the sting at Arthur’s and spreads it over the console. “We’ll set up cameras here, here, and here.” He points to station points near the cabin. “Luke and Callum will be stationed here. If Cameron shows, we box him in. He doesn’t get a second chance.”

“Wait.” Lara asks, “Isn’t this illegal?”

Anton explains. “Doesn’t matter if the door’s unlocked.

In this state? He crosses the threshold; he’s trespassing.

That’s jailtime. We’ll have it on camera, and when we get a confession out of that asshole for all the other shit he’s done to you, the case will be there.

” His tone leaves no room for misinterpretation. “And we’ll get a confession.”

Her eyes are bright and clear. “If this ends it, let’s do it.”

I drag in a breath. “You’re sure? Once we start, there’s no going back.”

She meets my gaze. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Anton closes the map with a decisive snap. “You’ll get your life back, Lara.”

Lara glances over at me and offers a soft smile, one that, strangely, I read as reassuring me. Because she gets me. She knows I’m unraveling inside thinking about doing it this way. If it were up to me, I’d put Cameron in a chokehold while she has her feet up with a glass of wine.

I’m a SEAL, trained to take threats down. But this isn’t just another op. It’s personal. And as much as I want to believe I can keep my heart out of it, the way she looks at me tells me I’m already too far gone.

But this is the first and maybe only opportunity to get the bastard. I don’t want him roaming free any longer.

Lara’s eyes are bright, her chin tilted like she’s daring the world… and me. And I’m reminded of the fight I can’t win with maps or cameras or brute force.

The mission’s easy. The harder part comes after, when I have to let her go back into the world without me, without my shadows smothering her light, without holding on to her until she breaks.

Until I break…

But I’m already fucking broken. That’s why I stay. To heal. Why I have to fight the urge to run, even if it’s with her.

And that’s a battle no SEAL training ever prepared me to survive.