Page 89 of Guarded Knight

“I never… I swear… what the fuck?” He’s ready to cry.

Anton crouches this time. I think he’s the good cop in this routine, but he’s still scary as hell.

“We’re looking for the truth, Cameron. You already got six months’ jail time for misdemeanor trespassing. You want to drag this out for more? The judge might go easy on you if you show some remorse. You know what a moral conscience is?”

“Jail time?” He’s mortified. “I didn’t take those pictures. Yes, I texted. I followed her once or twice,” he stammers. “I… I knowthat was wrong. I just… I thought maybe she’d see I still cared. I found out about her… her problem… and felt extra bad…”

Every muscle in my body tightens. He only felt bad about the lies and screwing around because he found out about my CF? Like a normal girl deserved the cheating but I don’t because I’m weak? My fist clenches beside me.

“…But I never broke into her house. I never did that shit.”

He glances at me. “La…”

Gabriel steps between us. “I told you not to look at her,” he growls.

“I’m not the guy you want,” Cameron says quickly, panicked now. “I know I came on too strong. I just wanted to explain myself because it didn’t end well.”

It ended with him lying about everything. Constantly assuring me he wasn’t with anyone else even though he was with several. He was a sick gaslighter to say the least. He did me dirty because even though I never thought he was the one, he should have been honest. He has no respect for women. I bet he didn’t tell them about me either.

But despite it all, considering him now, in this state, I… believe him.

“Cameron.” I finally step up from the chair, but my legs are admittedly wobbly. “The night I called you and asked why you left the note in my house, the one with the all-too-kind suggestion that I was a prostitute, you said you were at work.”

“I was! I never went to your house! I swear on my life. I swear it.” A bead of sweat trickles down his forehead despite the fire being out and the temperature dropping since I’ve arrived here.

The room goes quiet. The kind of quiet that makes every breath feel like a decision.

“I didn’t take those pictures,” Cameron says, voice cracking. “And I never left a smoke bomb or the note you thought I left in Santa Fe. It wasn’t me.”

I glance at Gabriel. His jaw is tight.

“A week ago on Saturday,” Anton presses. “That’s when these pictures were found on the wall at Lara’s old apartment. You had a shift, but you left early. Do you have an alibi?”

He drops his head and slumps his shoulders as if he’s fucked, as if he realizes only now that karma is a bitch. “I tampered with the time clocks at work…” He doesn’t want to admit the rest but does. “I stamped out early to… meet with someone.”

Anton asks, “Is it someone who will make a statement that you couldn’t have been at Lara’s that night?”

“I think so.” He’s hesitant, as if needing to tell a truth that was meant to be a secret. “She probably would. If we can find her. She’s in Albuquerque.”

“You snuck out of work early and drove to Albuquerque?”

Cameron swallows his admission, appearing ashamed of it.

Anton cracks his knuckles. He’s so damn burly, I’m sure Cam is pissing himself. “What’s the name…”

Cameron lowers his gaze. “Angel America.”

A bitter scoff escapes me. This guy is a top-notch prick. I asked him about strip clubs, and he denied it.

“Angel America?” Anton’s features twist.

Cameron’s eyes beg Anton to help because after one more glance at Gabriel, seething, he knows Anton is his only lifeline.

“I don’t know her real name. She works at the Dice. The Paradise. A strip club in Albuquerque.”

Anton laughs, amused. “You couldn’t write this shit.”

Cameron spews the details of his rock-star evening. “I told her my name was Rocco. I spent sixty bucks in the sky room on dances and bought her two vodka sodas and stayed till closing at twelve, then we hung out at a twenty-four-hour diner. I couldn’t have gotten back to Santa Fe until maybe ten a.m.”