Page 9 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

Lara didn’t say anything else after the trail. She just left me, watching her push back into Pages and Perks, disappearing without a glance in my direction.

We talked. For the first time in years, we weren’t on opposite sides of a locked door. We stood together—me and her—against something bigger. And God help me, it lit me up inside, that tiny shred of us still alive. Even if I hate myself for finding any light in this hell.

But reality slams back. Those photos. Her face soft in sleep, caught by a predator’s lens.

Rage claws at my ribs, colliding with the sharp ache of wanting her, protecting her, wishing it wasn’t this asshole who put us in the same orbit again.

I’ve waited years to hear her voice. I finally got it, and it had to be like this.

I unload the U-Haul, burning off the edge with brute labor. If I stop moving, I’ll see them again.

Her, vulnerable. Him, lurking in the dark.

By the time the book club wrapped up, I’d gotten all their stuff upstairs and had time to triple-check the window locks and door again.

It’s not enough. It’ll never feel like enough. Those locks can’t erase the fact that someone has already been inside her life, close enough to watch her breathe.

If only I could convince her to stay at Monarch Hills with me… I know she’d never agree, but there, at the ranch, there are a lot more eyeballs. I want to lock her down where nothing can touch her.

I have to remind myself that locking her down is more about my fear, not hers. She’s okay at this apartment as long as I’m around. The photos don’t prove Cameron knows where she is, only that he’s even more psychotic than we thought.

I linger outside until the book club empties. Pretend not to notice Lara and Freya slip out, heading for the apartment.

The bell over the bookshop door gives a lazy jingle when I slip inside and a wash of perfume, cinnamon, and the sharp citrus of spiked alcohol washes over me.

Anton’s still here, leaning against a display of October’s Spiciest Picks with a book cracked open, arms crossed, posture loose, face plastered with amusement.

He straightens when I get closer but doesn’t stop reading until I clear my throat and he reluctantly closes the book. He lifts it in the air between us.

“The people who write this stuff are elite.” He places the book back down on the display and assesses me, quickly deciding something’s changed. “Throw it at me.”

I slide my cell out, open it to the images Lara shared with me, and hand it to him.

He looks at the first one, and all the air leaves the room. “Shit…” He zooms in, concentrating on the images. “This was in Santa Fe?

“Yeah. In her house.” In her bedroom.

Anton hands my phone back. “Did you call the police?”

“No.” I rake a hand through my hair. “They were sent from a burner phone, so we can’t tie them back to him.”

Without anything that can prove Cameron’s breaking and entering, or at least trespassing, we can’t do shit about it. And we aren’t interested in a restraining order.

We’re looking for bars.

Anton exhales slowly. “She’s lucky it wasn’t worse. He could have…”

“Don’t,” I cut him off. The images in my head are already bad enough. I don’t need Anton’s imagination chiming in.

I pocket the phone but I won’t forget that photo. It’s the kind of image that makes a man want to break something. Or someone.

I lean on the display table, grounding myself with something solid before I spiral too far.

“We need to gather intel in Santa Fe so we can see if there’s anything at all that can connect him to these break-ins.

” My chest is tight as I talk. “I don’t want it to come to setting a trap.

That means putting Lara back into the mix, and that’s the last resort.

We need to get rid of him without involving her. ”

Anton watches me, expression unreadable, but he’s never seen me quite like this. I’ve never needed to use this much restraint.

“You’re not going,” he says, picking up another book and flipping it like a fan, his eyes still on me. “She needs you here.”

Somehow the words come out more like I need her here.

I nod, jaw tight. “Yeah. She does.”

He plops the book back down.

I can’t go full warpath because staying in Echo Valley is the smarter play.

Not only do I understand Lara’s behavior better, but there’s more… I’ve come a long way since the old days, with military training for mental control and, of course, therapy, but if I crossed paths with Cameron in Santa Fe, would I split him in two?

We need to do this the right way. Not necessarily the legal way, but at least the way that lands him in jail, not me.

Anton takes a slow step forward, thoughtful. “So you’re staying, and I’m going.”

I glance up, and Anton’s eyebrow is arched.

“Because you’re better off watching Lara.” He smirks.

He’s not exactly hiding where he’s going with this, but I don’t explain how this is pure friendship with Lara.

Actually, it’s not even friendship at this point, but slapping a label on things doesn’t matter because I can’t go where his mind is headed no matter how much my body tells me to whenever she’s near.

“I’ll head out in the morning,” he concedes, not asking for more because he knows he won’t get it. “I figured one of us would need to go so I checked flights. I’ll head out at the crack of dawn.” He pauses. “I’m guessing you’ll be camped out on her couch then?”

I look down at the display table, hand curled into a fist beside a pink sticker that says Reading Is Foreplay.

I scoff. “That woman isn’t letting me stay in her house.”

“Would it take getting you nearly blackout drunk to hear why? You said she was like a sister. I don’t have one, but if I did, I’d like to think she’d let me trade the truck for the couch.”

I’d tell Anton. He’d get it and knows how to keep things to himself, but today my head is messed up right now, still thrown that Lara talked to me. It’s not time to share how she’s the only woman I ever cared about. How I used to think she was the one but now she isn’t.

I need to stay focused. “This is a job, not a sleepover.”

Anton’s unconvinced but bends down, picks up a black backpack from the floor, and hands it to me.

“Figured you’d be benched, so I threw your stuff together.”

I take it and sling it over my shoulder. “Thanks.”

He claps me on the back, then heads toward the exit. “We’ll get a cold one soon.”

He’s almost out the door when I think of one last thing.

“Hey,” I call after him.

He turns.

“If you find evidence on Cameron… don’t play nice.”

Anton’s grin is dark. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”