Page 46 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

The hallway’s too damn quiet. Not the peaceful kind. The kind that prickles under your skin, makes the hair on your neck stand up, and reminds you how fast peace turns into loss.

I lean against the wall outside the women’s restroom, arms crossed. Trained or not, it’s hard to fake calm when your pulse is a ticking bomb. And this isn’t just any op, it’s the other half of my heart in there.

I lift my wrist to my mouth. “Come in.”

“Talk to me,” Anton’s voice replies in my ear.

“Do you have your eyes on the target?”

Knowing Kevin is not in that bathroom should help calm my nerves.

Anton’s deep voice fills my ear. “Affirmative. Kevin is onstage with Freya.”

Kevin’s under control. Nobody in there with Lara but some crabby lady in sequins. I should’ve patted her down. At this point, I don’t trust anyone. Not until someone confesses to stalking Lara.

But if Kevin is onstage, why am I hot? It’s been too long since I heard her cough. God, a moment ago I wanted it gone for her sake and now I miss the sound. Every second of silence winds the tension tighter in my chest, until all I can hear is the echo of the promise I made. I’m here.

I glance at the door again and listen closely. No sounds from inside. No water running.

Just when I’m about to knock, the door creaks open.

The fancy woman steps out, carrying a sparkling clutch and giving me a look like I just asked her to valet my truck. Her heels click against the tile as she walks away, and I slip inside.

The bathroom is empty.

“Lara?” My voice echoes too loudly, ricochets off tile. She should answer. She always answers.

Panic floods my veins, detonates in my chest. I have to stay calm, but my pulse pounds in my ears.

Lara’s water bottle sits on the counter, beads of condensation still sliding down the plastic. There’s a crumpled-up paper towel on the floor in front of the sink where Lara’s bottle stands.

“Lara!” My voice echoes dramatically.

She’s gone.

My gaze scans the room frantically. The vent is still closed and is too small for people. I check the stalls one at a time, anger rising inside me because I know the check is futile. And then my attention lands on the janitor’s closet.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I cross the room in three steps, grip the handle, and twist.

Locked.

My blood turns to ice. This is how it happens—the second you look away, the second you let yourself believe she’s safe. Two steps away, and I still lost her.

“Lara!” I slam my palm against the wood.

I bang my shoulder into the door, over and over again, and then, I do what needs to be done.

I draw my weapon.

If she’s in there, better injured from shrapnel than dead or missing.

I step back. And aim.

The crack of the shot is deafening in the tiled space.

The lock shatters. The door jerks open from the force, slamming into the wall behind it.

But the closet’s empty.

Empty… except for a broom knocked over on the floor. A scuff mark on the far wall. The faint, chemical sting of bleach.

I step inside, turning in a tight circle, heart hammering hard. No blood. No sign of a struggle. But what I find makes my blood run cold. A door on the back wall.

I push it open and enter a goddamn access tunnel…

I bolt through it, down a service hall, past startled staff gasping at the sight of my drawn weapon.

My pulse pounds in my neck. My comms vibrates in my pocket.

Anton’s texting, calling, asking where the hell I am, but I don’t stop.

Not until I follow this entire trail. Maybe I can still chase her down.

Find a clue. If I run back to Anton, I have to consider her gone.

Eventually, I slam through the parking lot door, and the light blinds me after hours inside. The sun blasts through me, illuminating the one truth I can’t run from: I told her I’d be two steps away. And that’s all it took to lose her.

That was my promise. Two steps. I fucking failed.

No. Failure isn’t an option…

I spin, sprinting back toward the hotel, lungs burning as badly as the panic in my chest.

I talk into my comms. “Anton. I need you now. Meet me at the service exit. Lara’s gone.”

His voice comes through. “Say again?”

I’m already choking on the words, but I force them out.

“She’s gone,” I snarl, weaving between two stunned staffers. “She went into the women’s bathroom. Never came out.”

Anton is as confused as I am. “Kevin’s still onstage.”

“I know. But he’s not the stalker.” I run my fingers through my hair and tug it. “Fuck, Anton, I don’t want to leave Freya with Kevin, but there’s clear and present danger, and Kevin isn’t it.”

“Roger that.”

I shove through the back doors again, the blast of cold hotel air hitting me, and I scan the area for anything. Any sign of something that doesn’t belong.

A young hotel employee in a vest pauses, wide-eyed as I barrel toward him.

“You… were you out here a few minutes ago?” I ask.

He blinks, fearful of what I might do. “Uh. Yeah. I was helping unload some trays. The catering van—”

“Did you see anyone out here? Any vehicle that didn’t belong? Anything unusual?”

He nods, gaze still darting behind me. “There was… yeah, this guy was pushing a laundry cart. He blew right through the exit pretty fast. There was a crappy van parked right against the curb and… shit.” He clearly notices my urgency. “What happened?”

“What make and color was the van?”

“White. Just a typical van with no windows kind of thing. But our usual laundry vans are black, and he was pushing a cart up into it… Oh, man… what happened?”

Everything I swore never would.

But guilt’s a luxury. I only have room for action.

“License plate? Anything else?” I bite, hardly holding back my desperation for any detail, any crumb that will lead me to Lara.

“New Mexico. I’ve never seen a plate from there before.”

Whoever it is, they followed her here from New Mexico? Why couldn’t we find a lead?

I radio again. “Anton. We’ve got a possible vehicle. White unmarked van, New Mexico plate. Witness saw someone pushing a cart.”

I grab the staffer’s arm, firm but not rough. “Do you remember what the guy looked like?”

“He was super tall. Maybe even six-five or something.”

Shit… Lara is strong, but she’s tiny. If he hurts her… my bones ignite with rage.

Rage I can use. Fear I can’t afford. But it’s crawling up my throat anyway.

“Get security,” I demand.

The poor guy is now white as a ghost.

“We need exterior camera feeds. I need anyone who had eyes on that van. There’s been an abduction.”

Just then, Anton barrels through the service door, chest heaving, eyes locked on mine.

“Tell me we have something.”

“She’s gone. And whoever took her had a plan.”

I meet Anton’s stare, my chest feeling as if it’s splitting in two. “She’s headed to the second location.”

And everyone knows the second location is where the bad shit happens. My head’s chaos, a storm tearing through me, and maybe I deserve every bit of it.

Anton and I race back into the hotel. We need a plate. Visuals on the suspect.

The love of my life, my soul’s only desire, the woman I swore to protect, will be mine again.

And I’ll ruin the one who’s done this to her.