Guarded Knight Sneak Peek
GAbrIEL
Another night. Another job. Another waste of time.
I shift in my seat, rolling my shoulders to work out the stiffness, but it doesn’t help. The car’s interior is stale with the scent of old coffee and leather, and my legs are cramping from staying in the same position too long.
We’ve been sitting in this car for three hours, parked on a quiet street outside a McMansion two hours from Echo Valley. The whole neighborhood smells like sprinklers and overpriced fertilizer. Not one sighting. Not even a flicker in our binoculars moves behind those picture-perfect windows.
Anton lets out a long, suffering groan beside me, stretching his legs and propping his boot against the dashboard.
“So this is what my life has come to…”
I don’t need to look at him to see his exaggerated misery—I can hear it in his voice, feel it in the way he drags his hand down his face .
“I survived the SEALs, then thirteen years in captivity, and now, all that grit is truly being put to the test tracking cheating spouses.” He waves a hand toward the house, a monument to suburban monotony. “I swear, if I have to sit through one more shift like this, I’m gonna lose my mind.”
“Put in your two weeks,” I say, adjusting the rearview mirror—not because I need to, but because I need something to do.
Anton snorts. “Yeah, right. Like you’d survive without me.”
I sure as hell wouldn’t be here without him.
After leaving the SEALs, I spent years bouncing from place to place, never putting down roots. Never wanting to. Hell, even when I visited Starlight Canyon or Echo Valley, I never stayed long enough to feel like I belonged.
But that was the point.
Then one day, I came back and found Anton living in the house at Monarch Hills my brothers built for me. It was a strange feeling. Like walking into a life I never actually planned to live, but at the same time, I didn’t want to give it away to someone else.
At first, I wanted him out—the way I want most people out of my space. But Anton wasn’t like most people.
He invited me in and made me a fancy, undersized coffee from a Nespresso machine he’d bought for the place. I planned to throw him out, but that coffee turned into a cold one. The cold one turned into a night swapping war stories, the kind you don’t tell normal civilians. The kind only another SEAL—another man with ghosts—would understand.
His stories blew me away.
From the SEALs to rogue vigilante justice to thirteen years in captivity—and somehow, he came out the other side… pretty normal. Steady. Like it didn’t break him. I wondered what made him different.
Maybe he’s just better at hiding it all than I am.
Anton’s only a few years older than me, but sometimes it feels like he’s lived a hundred more lifetimes. He helped raise a kid he never asked for, watched Ava grow up in a cage, and never let it destroy him. Something about the sheer impossibility of how un-fucked up he is, despite everything, earned not only my respect but my friendship.
And maybe that’s why, by the time we chucked a twenty on the table at the bar in Echo Valley, I was sold on his idea for Shadow Justice. Anton had described it like some badass vigilante firm—an adventure, something edgier, less douchey than the celebrity bodyguard jobs I’d been picking up in between drifting.
I craved adrenaline but didn’t want the people. His plan sounded like my calling.
Our first (non-paid) gig was helping take down some serious criminals. It felt like a good start. A purpose. But now? Now we’re stuck playing discount private investigators, barely scraping by, taking whatever cases we can—even if it means watching a businessman’s wife sit in her bathrobe, eating ice cream, binge-watching true crime instead of screwing the pool boy.
“This is depressing,” I mutter, watching the lifeless house. “Maybe we should’ve opened up shop somewhere that isn’t a town with more horses than crime.”
Anton smirks. “Yeah, but then we wouldn’t get the joy of watching people ruin their marriages for a living.”
“You say that like this lady’s even having an affair.” I gesture toward the house. “I bet her husband’s the one screwing around. Probably hired us to make himself feel better. ”
Anton sighs, tossing his phone onto the dash. “I’m not leaving Ava now that she’s getting married. She’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a kid, and soon enough, I’m sure she’ll have one. I’m not missing that.”
“She doesn’t seem ready for that. Enzo and Ava are talking about a world tour.”
He puts the binoculars to his eyes. “Maybe…”
“You should do it yourself.”
He frowns. “Do what?”
“Settle down.”
All I get is a grunt in response.
I don’t know why Anton seems to have given up on love. He’s only in his late thirties. Maybe it’s for the same reason I have.
A lot of men I served with struggled with relationships. Long deployments. Unpredictable schedules. A whole lot of shit you can’t erase from your mind. And the worst part? Extreme ownership. The belief that everything starts and ends with you. That if something goes wrong, it’s your fault. That belief leaves scars.
We’re housemates, and I see it in him—the same inability to switch off. The way he wakes up at odd hours, body wired for a mission that’s never coming. The way I do. I still scan exits in every building, still hesitate before turning my back to a door. He gets that.
When I discharged, I took ownership of my issues. Decided they were mine alone to deal with. So, I made a choice.
No commitments. No relationships. No staying in one place too long.
Because the divorce rate for SEALs is so high, it’s not even worth trying in my opinion. Anton was one of those statistics. I do respect he at least gave it a go—until his wife fucked him over.
Anton huffs, shaking his head. “I’m catching something, even if it’s someone leaving dog crap on their driveway.”
Before I can laugh, my phone buzzes on the console. I glance at the screen.
Rocco.
We grew up together in Starlight Canyon, both spent time in the SEALs. Thankfully, he’s found a lot more meaning on this side of the Milatary than I have and has become an advisor, ready to chain himself to a desk in DC.
I swipe to answer. “Roc?”
“G…” He sounds hurried, but that’s nothing new. “I need you to do something for me.”
Roc doesn’t ask for help. I sit up a little straighter. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Lara.”
My grip on the phone tightens. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” A pause. “For now.”
For now doesn’t sit right with me. My pulse responds to her name like it always has, running… chasing.
“Start talking.”
Rocco exhales, sharp and impatient. “It’s her ex. He’s been hanging around again.”
My jaw clenches. Rocco mentioned Bruno the last time he was in Echo Valley. He told me she should’ve never gotten involved with him in the first place.
He never even had to breathe the bastard’s name in front of me. Like all the others before, I already knew the man didn’t deserve her.
He sighs roughly. “You know Lara, G. She said it’s fine like she says about everything.”
That frustration with his sister is faMilaar. She’s a loose cannon. Always has been.
“She brushed it off like he’s just some lovesick idiot who doesn’t know how to take a hint. But I’ve seen this before, man. It’s more than that.”
Rocco doesn’t rattle easily, so I trust his instincts.
“I don’t like it,” he says. “Something feels off. I need you to look after her while I’m gone.”
Rocco’s instincts are razor-sharp. Always have been. If he thinks something’s wrong, it is.
“She won’t want a bodyguard,” I say.
“No shit,” Rocco mutters.
She’s independent with a capital I.
I stare through the windshield, focusing on nothing, slowing my pulse which now thrums in my neck.
I’ve known Lara for nearly as long as I can remember. She’s a part of me in more ways than one, and this wouldn’t be the first time the Youngs have asked me to look out for her.
When we were kids, Rocco’s mom made us take her everywhere. Lara had a condition that gave her arthritis. She had surgeries, procedures, constant bullshit. Dave and Stef tried to stuff her in bubble wrap. Didn’t matter. She ran us ragged anyway.
One time, Lara slipped away at the mall while we were supposed to be watching her. She vanished for forty-five minutes. Rocco nearly lost his mind. And when we finally found her? She’d been tracking us .
She was trouble even at twelve.
And now? She’s trouble in a whole new way. She’s stunning, charismatic, and utterly reckless. Not to mention she’s still holding that moment from our past against me.
Not that I blame her. I hold it against me, too .
“You might have better luck with someone else,” I say. But as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Not just because I’d protect her better than anyone else, but because the thought of someone else doing it sends a clawing, ugly sensation tearing through my gut.
Rocco doesn’t give me an out. “I don’t care if she likes it or not. This guy is a psycho.”
“She won’t be happy about this.” I dig my thumb and a finger into my eye sockets. “How would this even work? Lara works in Santa Fe, yeah?”
I dart my gaze to Anton, who I can tell is listening intently despite not having taken the binoculars from his face.
“And I have work commitments now.”
“I’m glad you’re putting down roots, by the way,” Rocco offers. “It will be good for you. And your new line of business is just what I need. You can watch her and get some evidence on that bastard. Maybe with something concrete, I’ll convince her to report him.”
“Entrapment?” The corner of my mouth quirks. “I thought now that you were in politics, you had to be a stand-up citizen.”
“That’s why you’re doing it, not me.”
“It still doesn’t solve the distance problem.”
“I took care of it.” Rocco shuts down the debate. “She works remotely. She was just living in Santa Fe but doesn’t need to be there. I sold the apartment she was in, and she couldn’t argue because it was mine. I told her I needed the money for the girls.”
“That’s low, even for you. She believed you?”
“Probably not, but she wasn’t going to argue with her favorite girls getting what they need. Plus, I played the single dad card—said I’d need to hire help, private school fees, all that. I even offered her a job as a nanny out in DC, but I’m kind of glad she said no. She hates big cities.”
“You sold her apartment…” I’m on the border of disbelief. It was either a controlling dick move or this ex is definitely a psychopath.
“Yeah, well, I had to pull out the big guns. I couldn’t leave her in Santa Fe with her roommate. She’s cute, but a petal, and Lara is… Lara. She isn’t taking this seriously. You know how she doesn’t like to show weakness, so if things escalate and she needs a restraining order, she won’t go there. I’d rather have you covering her than a piece of paper anyway.”
“Mmm. Where is she going to live?”
I know Rocco wouldn’t leave her high and dry, and Lara’s job at a nonprofit isn’t exactly high-paying.
“There was an apartment for rent right above that bookstore in Echo Valley. I paid for a year. Her roommate is coming, too.”
I have to hand it to Rocco. The alternative, emergency accommodation sounded like just the spot for his sister. The apartment above the bookstore? The bookstore with a sex shop in the back? That tracks for Lara. It’s the same perfect contradiction she always was.
“What did she say when you told her I’d watch her?”
Because Roc knows I’d never say no.
“She was pissed at first,” he lets out a one-syllable laugh, “But then I think she realized it’s a perfect opportunity to put you through hell.”
He laughs again, this time with more humor. Lara gave me more shit than anyone. The problem was, I used to like it a little too much. And when she grew up and that sassy tongue of hers thrashed me from behind lush, red-painted lips ?
Like I said. Trouble.
“Seriously though,” he says. “She agreed. I’m not bringing her there in cuffs.”
It also means this ex of hers must be a real piece of work—because Lara doesn’t scare easily. The fact that she’s willing to relocate and even be watched by me speaks volumes.
Then again, I haven’t seen Lara in years but some things never change.
She’ll think she’s smart enough to lose me.
I don’t answer right away. Not because I’m considering saying no—I already know I won’t. But because there’s a part of me that knows this is a bad idea. Not because I don’t want to protect her.
Because she makes me feel things.
And I’ve been better off not doing that for years.
I drag a hand down my face. “I’ll handle it. Good luck in DC.”
Anton is watching me when I hang up. He raises an eyebrow. “That didn’t sound like a standard ‘cheating spouse’ case.”
“It’s not.”
Anton watches me for a beat, then grins, stretching his arms behind his head like we’re talking about the weather. “So… who’s Lara?”
I don’t look at him. “Rocco’s sister.”
“No shit. I mean, who is she to you?” He cocks an eyebrow.
“Like I said, she’s Rocco’s sister.”
Anton taps his fingers on the dash, considering me. “Then why do you look like you just swallowed glass?”
I exhale through my nose. “It’s a job, Anton. She has an ex that needs to learn a lesson. It’ll be a lot more fun than this.”
“Uh-huh.” He studies me like I’m a puzzle he’s not done solving yet. “How close were you to her?”
I turn back to the house across the street, watching the glow of a television flicker through the curtains.
Too close.
But Anton doesn’t need to know any of that.
“We grew up in the same small town,” I say, voice even. “She was like a sister.”
Anton leans back, watching me like a damn interrogation suspect. “Right. And I’m sure she thinks of you like a brother, too.”
I clench my jaw, and of course, Anton picks up on it.
Anton whistles. “That’s what I thought.”
It’s not going to be easy to keep this professional but I have to. Not that I’m worried about being able to do my job. Protecting Lara isn’t the problem.
Surviving it is.