Page 123 of Guarded Knight

A new cough hits hard, sharper this time. I grab at the paper towels blindly, blinking back tears.

Then—

A click. Soft. Metallic.

Not like the latch of the stall.

Then, I turn and catch sight of icy aquamarine eyes.Blue Eyes.From the bar. From the pharmacy.

Trent.

I make a move, open my mouth to scream, but it’s swallowed by a huge hand stuffing a rag in my mouth and a vicious tug. My whole body leaves the floor and I’m instantly held against Trent’s broad chest. I thrash, kick. My heel slams into his shin, but he’s strong…

“Excuse me?” The lady’s voice comes from the stall. “Can you pass me some toilet paper?”

Trent is so much bigger than I am. My resistance is futile and he quickly backs us both into the now open door of the janitor’s closet.

“Miss?”

We’re inside…

“Miss, are you still there?”

The door shuts.

The light vanishes.

And the dark closes in.

32

The hallway’stoo 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 isa 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.