Page 92 of Guarded Knight

As if summoned by the wordeat, my dad walks in with a Tupperware the size of my chest. “Relax,hijo, just me. You think I’m gonna let the girls starve after all that?”

Rio walks in behind him without a greeting. He means business. While my dad offers a warm cocoon, Rio offers a steel wall. Both have their place here.

Lara sits up straighter. “You came here with food at this time of night?”

He barrels past me and sets the container on the counter, then makes a beeline for Lara. “What was I supposed to do? Not bring soup?” He sits next to her for a moment, inspecting her, maybe taking stock for the Youngs. I can imagine he’s been on the phone with them because Dad has always been the nosy type.

Though he’d rather I use the wordinformed.

“Mi corazón,” he murmurs. “Did these boys even feed you?”

“All she’s had is tea,” I mutter. “But because she said she wasn’t hungry,” I add for the record.

“That’s not food.” My dad chuckles. “That’s hot sadness.”

Lara laughs. Dad beams like he’s just performed a resurrection. Freya is smiling for the first time tonight, too, so I suppose soup does have power.

“I brought enough for you, too,” Dad says, gazing at Freya. “You girls need food. You need to keep your strength up.”

Dad goes back to the kitchen. It’s open plan, as all of the houses are, so the sound of his clattering around, grabbing bowls fills the cavernous room. “You want shredded cabbage, or do I just dump it all in?”

“I… surprise me,” Lara says.

“You?” Dad glances at Freya.

“Same. After eating your food at the party, I can say your instincts are better than mine when it comes to cooking.”

Anton’s cell rings, and he wanders over to the edge of the space into the shadowed dining room area. He’s been chasing leads on Angel America. Good thing strip clubs are open late.

“Anton Easton.” He takes his body farther away and lowers his voice, but I can tell Freya and Lara try to listen in. Hell, apart from my dad, who’s bustling in the kitchen, we all do.

Rio takes a seat in the armchair like he’s holding court, in deep consideration of some sort of decree. Dad hands over two large mugs of steaming soup with metal spoons inside.

And then, there’s nothing but the clink of spoons on bowls and the occasional crackle of the fire as we all hold our breathwaiting for Anton to reveal something in our eavesdropping session.

“Thank you,” he finally says into his cell. “Your statement is confidential and has been really helpful.” A beat. “I wouldn’t worry about your safety, but if you have any concerns at all, call my number or the Echo Valley police. Thank you for your time.” He hangs up and when he glances up from his cell, he catches ten eyes staring in his direction. “Ah, an audience.”

“Well?” I ask.

“Miss America was indeed with Cameron all night. He’s been a regular for the past couple months.”

“A regular?” Lara asks.

“Customer. A regular customer. Seems he spends a lot of time in Albuquerque.”

“A stalker who spends a lot of time out of the proximity of his victim?” Rio deadpans. “That officially rules him out for me.”

Anton nods. “Very true.”

“I wish it’d been him. But I really had a feeling he was just a loser,” Lara says.

Freya shifts uncomfortably, and I take stock of her body language. “But Cameron showed up tonight. That has to mean something, right?”

Lara shakes her head. “All he wanted was to justify his dirty deeds. Couldn’t stand someone thinking less of him.” She cracks one of her ill-timed jokes. “I was probably the best lay he ever had.”

The way she says it makes me wonder if what Cameron said tonight about her being sick stabbed at her self-esteem.

“Señor ten piedad…” Dad dabs his forehead with his napkin as if offended, but he’s half-smiling.