Taking a deep breath, I raise my fist to knock on the door to my guest room. Eliza has barely spoken since the night I got back, spending all of her time either in the guest room or wrapped in her own thoughts. There’s been no movement at her house, and the stalker has made no attempt to contact her home phone.

So far, it’s been relatively uneventful. Only those who spend a lot of time in this profession know that quiet is even more troubling. It means whoever is after her is taking their time. Being meticulous in their planning makes it less likely they’ll slip up and make a mistake.

She answers the door wearing a pair of leggings and an oversized cream sweater. Her blonde hair is loose around her face, falling in waves that look silky smooth. I yearn to run my fingers through them, to hold her and make everything that’s ever caused her even the mildest pain to disappear.

But I can’t.

She’s not mine to hold. And trying to change that would be a mistake neither of us can afford.

“Is everything okay?” she questions.

“I’m going to go out for a run on the beach and wanted to know if you were up for getting out of the house. If not, Elijah can come sit with you until I get back.”

For a moment, I feel like she’s going to say no, but then she nods. “Getting out could be good for me. Can you give me a few minutes to change?”

“Absolutely.” I offer her a smile before heading back into the kitchen and sending a text to Elijah to let him know he’s not needed.

I get a thumbs up in return.

After setting my phone down on the counter, I turn my attention out the bay window off my kitchen. It’s overcast today, darkening the waves in the distance. It’s supposed to start raining this evening and not let up for three days. considering I haven’t run since before my trip to California, this seems like a great chance to get out and burn off some steam.

Steam that is a direct result of the desire I feel for a woman I’m only supposed to protect.

It’s not like she even particularly cares for me, and yet I can’t get her off my mind.

The door to the guest room opens, and Eliza steps out wearing the same leggings but an off-the-shoulder t-shirt, the bright blue strap of the tank top underneath nearly the same shade as her eyes. I’m struck with need at the sight of her. The woman undoes me, twisting me into knots and making me want things I have no business wanting.

She’s been broken by the men in her life. First, her father abandoned her, then all the horrific things Erick did to her. The last thing she needs is me trying to take what’s between us a step further.

Keep it together, Knight.

“Ready?” I ask, grateful my tone doesn’t betray me. God, please give me strength.

“Yes. Though, I haven’t been for a run in—I don’t even know how long.”

I grin. “I’ll go slow.”

To my absolute delight, she smiles back. “How gentlemanly of you.”

We make our way outside and into the gloomy afternoon. She takes a minute to roll her shoulders then begins jogging down the sidewalk. I fall into step beside her, an easy pace, as we head down the path and onto the beach. With the weather being what it is, there aren’t many people out and about, though I do spot Mr. Daniels—our local pharmacist—taking his dog, Bruno, for a walk.

He waves and offers a friendly smile, though his gaze is firmly on the woman beside me. No doubt, the entire town will think we’re an item by dinner time.

Word travels fast in a small town. Which is yet another reason I’m struggling with the identity of Eliza’s stalker. We’re an hour away from the nearest hotel, and there’s no one new checked into the local B&B. Someone would have noticed a stranger, and so far, there’s no word out of the ordinary.

Sheriff Vick has scouted all nearby campsites as well as had local police check the hotels in bordering towns—but nothing.

Boston is only a three-hour drive, so it’s possible whoever this guy is, he’s hiding out there and making the drive, but something tells me he’s closer. I just wish I knew where. The idea that it could be a local has crossed my mind, and I have Elijah looking into everyone who fits the height and weight of the man who attacked Eliza, but so far, we’ve got nothing.

I spare a glance at Eliza, noting the pink in her cheeks and the way her gaze is focused firmly overhead. I’ve been deployed all over the world. To active war zones and some places no one will ever know about.

I’ve seen good men die.

Bad men bleed out right in front of me as they begged for mercy.

Your soul cannot suffer moments like that and remain unscathed. Which is why I recognize the darkness in Eliza. She may never have been a soldier, but she’s still a warrior.

A survivor.

I stop jogging and face out toward the ocean. Eliza does the same, crossing her arms as she comes to stand beside me. “I can’t get over how beautiful it is out here,” she says.

“You are the strongest woman I’ve ever met.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

She turns to me. “Excuse me?”

“It’s easy to think that we’re defined by the things that have happened to us. The things that we’ve done.” I shift my attention from the ocean to her. “But you aren’t. And even when you feel alone, you’re not.”

“Because I have you watching my every move.” She tries to play it off, a defense mechanism I’ve noticed she uses whenever conversations get too deep.

“No. At least, not entirely.” I sigh, trying to decide if I should say exactly what’s on my mind and knowing within the same second that I need to be as open as possible. “God is in your story, Eliza. He’s always there for you, even when it feels like He’s not.”

She shifts her attention away from me. “You have no idea what I’ve seen, Lance. If you did, you’d struggle with your belief, too.”

“No,” I tell her. “I may not know everything you’ve seen, but I can tell you that I have witnessed the ugliest of humanity. The evil. The monsters masquerading as men. But I’ve also seen survivors. I’ve seen beauty erupt in the midst of war. Humans coming together to help one another in the face of tragedy.”

“Why let the horrors take place at all? Why allow bad things to happen to good people? If God is truly as powerful and wonderful as you think, then how come He doesn’t step in and stop it before it happens?”

It’s a question I’ve heard many soldiers ask after being overseas and not one I’ve ever had the answer to. Until now. It may not even be the right one, but the words come to mind so easily, so clearly, it’s as though they’re being spoken into my ear. “When the darkness settles in and we’re stuck in the worst moments of our lives, that pain gives us a chance to remember that this isn’t our final home. We’re meant for somewhere perfect. Somewhere there is no pain, no hurt. Honestly, it’s in those times I lean on Him the most. I pray for guidance. For understanding.”

“Do you ever get it? The understanding.”

The doubt on her face is clear, but I also see something else behind her crystal gaze. “Sometimes,” I reply. “Other times, I walk whatever path I feel pulled toward and hope it’s the right one.”

She crosses her arms again and faces back out toward the ocean. “I wish I had your faith. The unwavering belief that there’s a greater purpose to everything we face.”

“Maybe you will one day,” I reply then nudge her shoulder with mine.

She smiles softly at me, but before she can respond, a red dot appears on her chest. My heart hammers, adrenaline propelling me into action. I throw myself in front of her, spinning and taking her to the ground seconds before a bullet hits the sand.

Keeping her beneath me, I scan the area for some cover but find none. We’re completely exposed out here.

“Run!” I roar, ripping her to her feet and shoving her in front of me.

Another shot fires, hitting the sand. The gun must be muzzled because I can barely hear it.

“Go, Eliza!”

Another bullet barely misses me. I try to discern the location of our shooter but see nothing but tall grass. I run, sprinting through the sand. A bullet slams into my shoulder, tearing through my flesh as it sears me. I stumble forward, barely staying on my feet as I cover the wound with my hand and bite back a groan. Any noise would draw Eliza’s attention back to me, and those mere seconds could mean the difference between life and death.

Heart racing, I barely manage to make it around the corner before another bullet whizzes past me. Finally, the shooting stops, and I sprint through my open door. Eliza slams and locks the door then turns to me, eyes wide.

“You’re bleeding!”

I ignore her, pushing to my feet and rushing for the firearm I keep hidden in the kitchen. I grab it with my good arm, grateful that I am a great shot, no matter which hand is holding the gun. “Grab the phone, and call Michael.”

She doesn’t hesitate.

“Put it on speaker.”

Again, she does as she’s told, and seconds later, I can hear the ringing. I check the windows, keeping out of view as I peek out to make sure we weren’t followed.

Michael answers, “What’s up?”

“Sniper,” I tell him. “On the ridge by the lighthouse. I’ve been hit, send Doc.”

“On it.”

The call ends, so I lean back against the wall, my firearm still in my hand. “Stay out of sight of the windows,” I tell her. “Stay behind the counter.”

“You’re going to bleed out,” she says as she ignores my order and rushes over with a towel that she presses to my wound, winding the fabric over my arm. “We need to get you to a hospital.”

I shake my head, the adrenaline waning enough that a fresh wave of pain shoots through my body. “Doc is on his way.”

“Doc?”

“He lives right down the road. With any luck—” Someone knocks. I push to my feet, hissing through the pain, and check the peephole before opening the door and ushering the good doctor inside.

“What happened?” he demands as he grabs my good arm and tugs me down into a chair. Eliza clicks the lock and crosses over to stand by me, her eyes wide, both arms wrapped around herself.

“Got shot.”

“I can see that. How?”

“Sniper,” I tell him. As a retired Army medic, he’s seen plenty of gunshot wounds, and most of the time when we have a run-in with a dangerous situation in our line of work, he’s who we call. “Michael is on it.”

My gaze lands on Eliza again. She’s pale, her body shaking just slightly.

And then the front window shatters.