Page 56 of Guarded Knight

How true that is. I just switched clinics… Maybe I should stop poking around Scarlet Hope until all this Cameron stuff blows over and I’m able to move freely about the country…

“Lara!”

A booming voice cuts through the barn, and the horse under Freya’s hand jerks its head.

Gabriel storms in, his eyes two heat-seeking missiles. Freya’s eyes blast open, and I fight to keep mine from doing the same.

He’s not just annoyed, he’s practically trembling, every muscle a live wire, every breath a fuse.

I open my mouth to speak, but before I can say a word, he’s across the barn in three strides, eyes dark, every step threatening to split the earth in two.

15

“Hijo…”My Dad says. “Can you get me my basting sauce? I need moresalsa magica…”

I hesitate, eyes darting to Freya. I can’t read her anymore. I scan the perimeter of the yard, remind myself of the guards dotted around Monarch Hills. Enzo is one paranoid dude and has this place wrapped up like the White House.

But I don’t trust anyone.

“G, the ribs are burning!” His tone has shifted now, and even though I’m thirty-six, he isn’t above clipping me around the ears.

Get a grip, G. She’s fine. This is a family barbecue, not a war zone. Just a minute. Anton is close by, and she’s with Dad…

I pop my beer down and bolt up Dad’s back stairs to the kitchen, racing like a bat out of hell. The fridge is packed with party food. I shift peppers, avocados, tomatoes, and onions and examine three different plastic containers of goops scanning for the burgundy color I know as my dad’s secret sauce.

Shit. Not here. He probably put it in his basement fridge.

I bolt down the stairs and I’m getting hot. Not because I can’t handle the running but because every second I’m away from Lara is a second too long.

I should have outright refused…

My blood pressure rises, and I swear a vein must be popping in my temple when I finally bolt through the back door again.

I practically Hail Mary the magic sauce onto the table next to the grill, the grill where Lara no longer stands. And before my eyes even scan the area… Ifeelit.

Panic explodes in my chest like a grenade, shrapnel tearing through every last shred of calm.

I rush over to Anton. “Where the hell is Lara?”

He takes a pull of his beer and glances around. “With Freya.” He lifts an eyebrow. “They’re getting some fresh air in a secure, guarded compound. This is the most freedom she’s going to get until we bring down Cameron.”

I haven’t told him about my Freya suspicions yet.

Fuck. I should have…

He tosses me a look as if I’m overreacting, but gives in to what I’m asking before I need to.

He puts his beer down, instantly on the move with me. We split in two directions. I head off to the front of the house. Anton tears off toward the drive leading toward the gate.

Gates. They’re all guarded, but I don’t trust the guards any more than anyone else. If anyone wants to take someone from this place, they’d go through one of the gates near the paddocks. I run up the gravel path toward the stables.

The barn looms ahead, old wood, sweet hay, a darkness that feels like a trap, and that’s when two voices filter out. Including hers, light, airy, and full of the thrill of a goddamn roller coaster.

She’s okay.

But my relief only last for a beat until I see her with Freya. Freya, who if she truly was a friend, wouldn’t take Lara out of my sight.

“Lara!” My voice rips out of me. Every horse in the place jumps. My boots slam on the ground, wood echoing underfoot as I stalk inside.