Page 7 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

Dad clears his throat and gestures toward her. “Before we descend into chaos, let’s welcome our newest members. Lara Young and…”

Instantly, I regret not telling my dad to leave her last name out of things. Fuck. Now everyone can look her up, search her, maybe become friends on social and tag her. I don’t need her dickhead ex finding out where she is. Not yet.

“Freya.” Freya grins widely and waves bashfully. “Freya Johnson.”

Double fuck.

Lara flashes a peace sign, but some of her confidence wilts. I’m sure she’s thinking the same thing I am. She didn’t want to be somewhere she could be tracked, and on day one, a host of strangers know her last name.

I remind myself that Anton and I have this covered. We’ve already come up with ideas to catch out Cameron. Two potential spots for a trap right here in Echo Valley.

Lara regains composure and lights up the room. “Wine and alien smut? You must have known I was coming.”

The crowd laughs because she is truly, so fucking charming.

Penelope lifts the conversation back on its tracks. “All right, much as we love fresh meat in Echo Valley, let’s get back to the meat in this book. Anyone have a burning need to get stuck on a desert island?”

The room fades from view. All I can see is Lara and Freya making their way to the refreshments. Lara smells the sangria and pulls away quickly like a snake might jump out of the pitcher.

Dad, who I almost forgot was still beside me, leans in, voice low. “Go say hi, hijo. “You’re staring like she’s a sniper and you’re the world’s most grateful target.”

I don’t look at him. I don’t take my eyes off her. “Real subtle, old man.”

He talks through unmoving lips like someone else might overhear. “Subtle doesn’t get you grandkids.” He claps a hand on my back and sinks back into his chair.

Dad is always making desperate moves.

Lara’s my best friend’s sister. She also currently hates me or something less dramatic but equally as impossible to overcome. I gave up on the idea of getting married, but if I ever did, I’d like to think it would at least start with someone who didn’t want to keep me at arm’s length.

And yet somehow, she’s still the only person who comes to mind.

You can’t have her, G.

I’m here in Echo Valley to see if I can settle in one place. See if I can stop running. And now to do a job.

I cross the room slowly, giving her plenty of time to float away from me like she has so many other times when I struck up courage to try to talk to her.

She stays, and my heart feels like it weighs a million pounds.

We stare at each other with thin-lipped smiles, and Freya slinks off to the side before Lara can introduce her. I already know enough about Freya Johnson from Xander’s information anyway.

Right now, I just can’t believe Lara is making full on eye contact and not bolting.

“Everything all right upstairs?” I ask.

She glances at me sideways and ignores the question. “Who knew Luis Mendez was a smut enthusiast?”

Then she eyes the pastries like she’s deciding which one to take.

As if being this close to me hasn’t even registered.

Ten years of cold shoulders and scant waving.

Ten years of her making it clear she wants nothing to do with me, and now, we’re casually hanging out at the Smut Society like two avid readers.

She turns to the sangria pitcher. “Now… is it happy hour yet?” She spins back to face me and pins me with that mouthy stare. “Oh. Nope. Not yet.”

Everything in my body is tight with yearning. I want to chase another sharp word. Another taste of that sweet banter because it feels like how we used to be.

“There’s tequila in the sangria. Might even be moonshine. I’d leave it.”

She lifts a brow. “That explains why everyone’s smiling like they just met their book boyfriend in the flesh.” Her arms cross, but it’s not armor. Not quite. More like she doesn’t know what to do with her hands. “Are you always this talkative at book clubs, G?”

She’s standing closer than she has in years. But there’s the same wall in her posture I’ve hit before. But at least she’s talking to me, and if I recall, she doesn’t bother slinging insults at people who don’t matter.

I hold her gaze. “Only when I’m trying not to say the wrong thing.”

“Here’s a strategy.” She cocks her head. “Stop talking.”

There’s a pause. Her mouth twitches, not a smile, but not a warning either. And I tell myself not to take it as an invitation.

Lara shifts her weight, jacket sliding off one shoulder. It’s casual. But my brain short-circuits at the sight of her milky round shoulder.

She’s fuller. Stronger. Softer, too. And damn if my heart doesn’t flutter like a kid’s. She looks healthy.

Alive.

And for one quiet second, I let myself feel it.

Relief. Wonder. Gratitude that someone created that miracle medicine.

She’s thirty-four…

Focus, G.

“Can we talk?”

She lets out a dramatic sigh that’s half kidding, half exasperated. “Do we have to?”

I nod toward the side door. “Five minutes? Outside?”

Her defeated posture tells me she’s regretting it already… but she follows anyway. The bell above the door jingles as we step into the fading daylight.

She makes a beeline for the hammock and drops into it. One foot barely reaches the ground, she’s so petite, but she gets herself swinging lazily, like there’s nothing serious going on.

“You’ve got five minutes,” she says, biting the corner of her thumbnail.

“I’m not going to bulldoze. I want to be your teammate in this…”

Something shifts in her, like a shield that wasn’t there before now is. I said something wrong…

“I’m not your enemy, Lara.”

She lets out a humorless laugh. “You’re not my anything.”

A thousand knives slice through my chest. I’d prefer anger to indifference.

But this isn’t about us.

Not until Cameron is gone. I’m not going to prioritize anything but her safety, not even if I’ve been waiting for a chance to make amends for years on end.

“I don’t need to be anything to you,” I say evenly. “But you’re something to me. So let’s work together and make sure Cameron gets handled.”

Her jaw tightens. “I’m something to you? Let’s be precise. You’re doing this for Xander.”

“Lara. Don’t…” I have a million more words lined up.

Don’t belittle the greatest time of my life.

Don’t say I don’t care about you, it’ll kill me.

“I wanted to sort this out myself for the record.” She exhales hard, all fire and frustration. “Reddit says restraining orders don’t work which is why I didn’t bother.”

“Well, I work.”

Her jacket has come off both shoulders now, and her top is low-cut and inviting.

“What are you going to do? Beat him up? Like when Henry Sherman thought I just had a constant cold all the time and called me Loogie? This isn’t high school.”

Xander hasn’t told her anything about the exact plans we’re putting in place. Guess for now, I shouldn’t either. Maybe we can still get Cameron without entrapment. Maybe we can find evidence in Santa Fe… a witness. Anything that doesn’t put Lara at the center of nabbing this guy.

I don’t indulge her question, and it frustrates her, but I don’t want to lie or withhold. Silence is the only truth for now.

“I don’t need tailing.” She pushes up and brushes past me, muttering, “Not by you anyway…”

She heads back toward the shop, but her phone buzzes, and she flinches. Not a twitch. A full stop.

It might not be Cameron, but he’s the reason the simple buzz of her phone has her stopping in her tracks, because from what I’ve heard from Xander, it’s buzzing all the time with unwanted messages.

I will make this motherfucker pay.

She slides her phone out, slow and deliberate. Doesn’t turn and angles the screen close so I can’t tower over her and see it.

But sometimes you know things not from what you see but from what you don’t.

Lara isn’t breathing. She’s still as if stunned.

I shift behind her, lowering my voice. “Lara.”

She puts the phone against her chest. Her shoulders still haven’t lowered.

“Let me see it.” I already know she won’t show me but I know it’s him.

She slides the phone halfway into her pocket. “No.”

I sharpen my tone, stepping in closer behind her, enough to catch the scent of her perfume. She still loves to smell like vacation. Coconut. Pineapple.

“No?” My voice rumbles. “Try again.”

She finally turns, chin tilted high in defiance. “You don’t call the shots.”

“You just flinched like someone punched you in the gut because your cell buzzed.” I nod to her pocket.

Her mouth tightens. “I’m allowed to get texts and to have privacy. It doesn’t mean…”

I swiftly reach for the phone.

She spins to avoid me. That size of hers makes her dangerous—nimble, slippery, fast as hell. She doesn’t know where she’s headed, but it’s away from me, and this isn’t the first time we’ve played cat and mouse.

She heads away from the storefront and into the alley leading to her apartment, possibly hoping she’ll get to the top and lock herself inside.

But with two strides I have her blocked between me and the brick wall lining the alley. A velvet quiet wraps around us. A tree rustles. Faint laughter echoes from the bookstore.

But out here? It’s just… us. And it feels a whole lot like the us I used to love.

She leans against the wall. Tendrils of blonde hair fall from her messy bun, and she punishes one with a sharp blow as if it’s the reason she got caught. She’s pissed, and her lips purse in that way that always made me want to grab her by the chin and kiss the fight right out of her.

I plant my hand next to her head.

Her eyes widen just slightly. I’m close enough to see the flecks of gold in her hazel stare. Close enough to feel the charge crackling between us, hot and silent.

“We might not talk anymore but we aren’t strangers, Lara. You think I don’t know that look?” I’m soft but firm. “You don’t flinch like that over nothing, so unless you want me kicking in doors tonight, show me the damn phone.”

Her pulse jumps at her neck. “You don’t get to bark orders at me just because I’m here, Gabriel. I agreed to you helping not bossing me around.”

“I’m not barking.” I lean in, so close she has to press her shoulders tighter to the brick and I’m hunched over so she can see how much I mean it. “I’m asking.”

She doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

Her fist curls like she’s not sure if she’s about to clock me or cave. I don’t care which one happens because the endgame is me seeing why some text rattled her to the bone.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working for me?” There’s one of her pleasurable dares underneath.

My tone drops even lower. “As if.”

I’d never take money from Xander for this, and she knows it. But what I know is that in these situations, it’s me who needs to stay cool, because this little lady has always been a spitfire.

“Lara, we’re on the same team with the same mission.” I shuffle my feet closer, maybe to make her wobble, definitely to remind her who she’s dealing with. “Hand me the phone.”