Page 21 of Guarded Knight

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.

“Becauseyou’rebetter 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 saysReading 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.”

6

My boots clangon the metal stairs on my way to let Lara know where I’ll be for the night. With each step, the scent thickens—garlic, butter, something warm. Domestic. It smells a lot better than the new-car-scent freshener I’ll be breathing in all night in my truck.

My truck’s not built for a six-two guy, and the trail doesn’t give me a clean line of sight to the door. Which means I’ll be up all night making rounds. But close protection isn’t about comfort.

Especially not for a woman like her.

As I climb the stairs, I survey the space between buildings where their front door is. I’m not happy that I have to park on Main Street. There are no cars allowed on Grenvista Trail where I’d have a view of their door, but fortunately, the trail is a dead end leading into the woods, and their second-floor entrance is surrounded on three sides by tall brick walls.

Before I can knock, the apartment door swings open.

Freya is sock-footed and smiling like she’s been waiting for me. “Perfect timing. We’re just plating up.”

“I’m not…”

“You’re not skipping dinner,” she cuts me off. “Come in.”

Freya yanks me inside by the arm.