Guarding the Single Mother: SEAL Endgame Book One

by North, Leslie

  “What?” Leila said, not looking at him as she closed the dishwasher.

  “I said you’re right. Other than having issues in my past, I do try to be a better person now.” He rocked back on the rear legs of his chair, a nervous habit he’d picked up in his youth. “The hardest part for me is my temper. I still lose it sometimes, but I can feel when it’s happening and most times, I can stop myself from blowing up. I’ve never taken that anger out on anyone though, so don’t worry about that. I’d never hit a woman or a child. I saw enough of that in foster care.”

  She turned slowly to look at him and he righted his chair before reaching over to take her hand. There were faint lines of strain at the corners of her mouth and her eyes held shadows of fear. He wanted to do whatever was necessary to bring the light back into her life.

  “Listen, honey.” He twined his fingers with hers and tugged her closer. “Like I said, we don’t really know each other that well. But I hope I’ve shown you that I’m a good bet. Dependable, trustworthy, safe. With everything that’s happened to you and Thomas, I don’t expect you to accept me into your life completely when we’ve known each other such a short time, but please give me a chance.”

  When she pulled free, it was like a sucker punch to his heart. Leila walked over and picked Thomas up out of his high chair. “I need to give him his bath and put him down for the night. See you in the morning.”

  Clint watched her walk away, the words begging her to come back to the kitchen teetering on his lips. But he swallowed them down with another swig of ale. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to go after her, to convince her that he was different, that this thing between them could develop into something more, if they both wanted it. But that was the whole point—she didn’t seem to want it. Not enough to stay.

  She already had one foot out the door. Defending himself would only make it worse.

  He’d been right about one thing though. They didn’t really know each other that well.

  Perhaps it was best if they stayed that way.

  11

  The next morning, Clint woke early to the sound of someone talking on the phone in the hallway. Leila. Her tone was quiet, but after years of getting up before the butt-crack of dawn in the Navy, he was a light sleeper.

  “I don’t know, Mama,” she said, her voice tense. “We don’t have much but there will be a few boxes I’ll need to have shipped. I’ll need to check rates and schedules and all of that.”

  Clint stared up at the ceiling, a knot of stress forming between his shoulders. So, she was serious about leaving then. His protective instinct railed at the thought of her out there on her own without him. It was crazy, but that’s how he felt.

  Grumbling to himself, he got up and pulled on a pair of loose sweatpants then padded to the door. Spotted Leila standing in the door to her bedroom, holding Thomas in her arms. Her sleep shirt stopped mid-thigh, giving him a nice look at her long, tanned legs. His body tightened with desire despite his wishes. Now wasn’t the time or place. Her face was turned away from him and he cleared his throat to get her attention.

  Leila turned and saw him, her gaze giving his bare torso a quick once-over before she said into the phone, “I need to go, Mama. Love you. I’ll call you later.”

  “Everything okay?” He asked, crossing his arms and leaning one shoulder against the doorframe.

  She nodded. “Yes. Thomas was fussing, so I was up. My mother doesn’t always consider the time difference.”

  “Hmm.” He could tell from the way she was avoiding his eyes there was more to the story. Not to mention what he’d just overheard. Never one to beat around the bush, Clint lifted his chin. “You’re planning on leaving.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  With a sigh, she nodded. “I’m sorry. I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me and for letting us stay here, but I really think this is the best option.” She snorted. “Maybe the only option.”

  He wanted to tell her it wasn’t. That he’d protect her, protect Thomas. But he knew there were limits to what he could do. Given that her ex had managed to track down the kid’s day care, who knew what the man might do next? Maybe she was right to go. It was her life, her kid. She had to make the choice that was right for her. He had no right to interfere in it. So, instead, all he did was give a curt nod before retreating back into his bedroom. “Fine.”

  * * *

  Leila watched him disappear into the shadows of his room then heard the shower start in his attached bath. She carried a sleeping Thomas back to his crib, his tiny face pressed against the side of her neck, his breath warm on her skin. Her heart broke at the loneliness and resignation she’s seen in Clint’s sad blue eyes, but what else was she supposed to do?

  Her top priority now had to be protecting her son. Yes, there was a chance Mike would follow her to Puerto Rico and bring danger to her mom and grandparents, but she knew he was a danger to her here in Vegas. At least he’d have more of a struggle finding her in Puerto Rico. He didn’t speak the language, wouldn’t have his gang to back him up. And maybe he’d consider it victory enough to have chased her out of town—maybe once she left, he’d finally leave her alone.

  With a sigh, she wandered back into the guest room and closed the door behind her. Besides, Clint had been right earlier. They didn’t know each other that well. How could she trust him to keep them safe when there was still so much they didn’t know about each other?

  She tucked a sleeping Thomas back into his bed, then sank down onto the edge of her mattress, her mind swirling and her heart aching. Moving home would mean uprooting her son, giving up the job and career she loved at the dental clinic, losing the few friends she’d made her in Vegas. All of the things she’d worked so hard for, everything she loved.

  Tears stung her eyes before she swiped them away. Her old doubts and fears resurfaced. What kind of mother did this make her, that she would tuck her tail between her legs and skulk off at the first sign of danger? Her own mother would never have been such a coward. No. Samantha Ortiz would have fought to the death to protect what she cared for when Leila and her brother had been growing up. She would never have backed down. She would’ve fought like hell to save what was hers.

  God, Leila felt like even more of a loser than she had before.

  Dammit.

  Feeling sorry for herself wasn’t her nature. Neither was hiding away from her problems.

  Time for her to stand on her own and take action. Stop depending on other people to solve her problems. If living with a single mother all her life had taught her anything, it was to be self-reliant.

  Decision made, she stood and changed into jeans and a sweater, then began packing up their things.

  Time to go back to her apartment and prepare to stand her ground. Alone.

  Just the way it should be.

  That’s what I want, right?

  Yes. It was. Because it had to be. She couldn’t depend on Clint. She couldn’t depend on her family either, not with them so far away. She couldn’t depend on anyone but herself. She’d protect her son with everything she had inside her. If she hurried, she could be out of there before Clint was done with his shower. She’d leave him a note to thank him and say goodbye.

  More tears fell, but she couldn’t give in.

  She was on her own now.

  For better or worse.

  12

  Clint climbed out of the steamy shower about twenty minutes later. He didn’t usually dawdle like that, but damn. He’d needed to take some time to get his head straight. He’d been berating himself for sleeping with Leila, for allowing himself to believe that they might have a future together after all this was over. He should have known better.

  And yet, he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  With a sigh, he stepped out onto the warm tile floor and wrapped a towel around his waist, yanking another towel off the rack nearby to scrub over his wet hair, then wipe a small spot clear on the mirror to stare at his reflection. “Y
ou’re such an idiot,” he said to himself. “Nothing but a fool.”

  The smart thing to do would be to put some emotional distance between them, as Leila had been doing. Keep her and Thomas at arms-length until all this was over to prevent his heart from being broken. Well, worse than it already had been anyway. It was too late now to mind his own business, but he could treat this like any other mission he’d been sent on in the SEALs. Do the work, protect the assets, then send them on their way. Yep. That’s what he’d do. Keep it strictly professional from here on out.

  After shaving and brushing his teeth, Clint wandered back out into his bedroom to change. A glance down the hall showed light pouring through the open doorway of the guest room. Determined to stick to his plan, he tugged on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, then headed down to Leila’s room to apologize for acting like such a jerk earlier.

  Except when he reached the doorway, he found the room empty. The bed was neatly made. The portable crib was empty.

  Shit.

  The bottom of his stomach dropped out and an endless black void appeared.

  “Leila?” he rushed to the living room but there was no one there. Ran to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Baby food gone. Some of his favorite toys were missing too, including the rabbit Clint had given him.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  He yanked his phone from its charger and prepared to dial when a note on the counter caught his attention. Cursing, he picked it up and read the words scrawled across the paper.

  I’m sorry to go this way, but I think it’s best for everyone. Thank you for taking Thomas and me in and thank you for teaching me how to protect myself. I’ll always be grateful. Take care. L

  Clint stared at the words for a moment, trying to take them in. Leila was gone. She and Thomas were out there somewhere, on their own, with her ex after them. That was bad. So, so bad.

  And it was his fault.

  If he hadn’t acted like such a dick to her before, if he’d kept his feeling out of the situation, if he’d done his job the way he should have, then she wouldn’t have left. Wouldn’t have put herself and Thomas in such danger.

  “Fuck.” Think. He needed to think. Despite the fear churning through his thoughts, Clint forced himself to concentrate on the facts. She couldn’t have been gone from his house for long. Her car was still being repaired, so she would’ve called a taxi or an Uber. He opened up the browser on his phone and checked flights out of McCarren. Nothing to Puerto Rico until this afternoon. Okay. Maybe she didn’t go straight to the airport. But if not there, then where?

  The answer only made the nausea bubbling his gut worsen. Her apartment. The exact worst choice she could’ve made. He’d bet good money her ex had his eyes all over that place and with his gang buddies involved, they’d be casing the apartment complex twenty-four-seven. Dammit.

  He rushed back to his bedroom and grabbed his Sig and two extra clips of ammo, just in case, then jammed his feet into shoes and headed out. He’d just about made it to his truck when a text dinged on his phone. The screen glowed bright in the darkness, the message like a slap in the face.

  I’m at my apartment. Mike’s here.

  Clint’s brain immediately switched into crisis-mode, the same way it did when a mission went to hell back in the SEALs. His emotions switched off and he ran like a machine on pure adrenaline, all thoughts distilled down to clear directives. Get to Leila. Get her and Thomas safe. Get that bastard behind bars again where he belonged.

  As he peeled out of his driveway and headed toward Leila’s address on his GPS, he put in a call to 911 telling them the situation while taking the backroads to save time. He arrived at the complex just ahead of the cops and was out of his truck, weapon drawn, and walking up to Leila’s door when he heard the shouts coming from inside.

  “Stop this, Mike!” Leila yelled. “I’m not your property. You don’t own me. And you sure as hell don’t own our son.”

  “You’re mine, bitch,” Mike’s angry voice responded. “The minute you said ‘I do,’ I put my mark on you. You either return to me, or I’ll make sure you never belong to anyone else again. That includes your pretty-boy protector. I’ll skin him alive if I ever see him again.”

  Clint swallowed hard, his mouth like sandpaper. He clicked the safety off of his weapon and kept his back pressed to the brick wall beside the entrance to Leila’s apartment to conceal himself in the shadows as best he could.

  A sinister snick echoed near his ear and Clint froze. Apparently, he hadn’t hidden himself well enough. He raised both hands slightly, to show he wasn’t a threat as the cold barrel of a gun pressed to his head, right behind his ear.

  “What the fuck you think you’re doing, eh?” a man growled, moving so that the light on the wall illuminated his face. Clint glanced back over his shoulder to see the guy. No one he recognized, but those tats marked him as part of the same gang as Mike. “Put the gun down, asshole, and step back.”

  He did as the dude asked, going as slowly as possible to give the cops time to arrive. Crickets chirped from the darkness between the buildings and the man shoved Clint hard, forcing him into a secluded, unlit area near the dumpsters. The stench of rotting trash and stale cigarettes seemed appropriate.

  “Okay, fucker.” The guy said, forcing Clint around to face him then placing the barrel of his gun directly between his eyes. “Time to die.”

  A crash sounded from the apartment and sirens wailed in the distance. Clint used the distraction to make his move. Grabbing the guy’s wrist and twisting downward until he heard a snap, then kicking the weapon away when the guy dropped it. Within seconds, he’d kneed the bastard in the groin and broken his nose before securing his arm and broken wrist behind the gang member’s back. He smashed the guy’s cheek against the brick wall as the cops screeched to a halt in front of Leila’s apartment.

  “Any more of you assholes out here?” Clint asked the guy, putting more pressure on his injured wrist to get him to talk. “Tell me!”

  “Just me,” the guy finally growled. “Get the fuck off me!”

  Clint kicked the thug’s weapon away and twisted the guy’s wrist until he heard a satisfying pop. The douchebag wouldn’t be doing anything with that hand for a while. After knocking the guy out cold with a punch to the face, Clint charged for the apartment. One threat neutralized, one to go. Through the smashed open door he spotted Leila huddled in a corner, holding Thomas to her chest and rocking him slowly while Mike brandished a pistol in her face. The place had been trashed and Mike was still ranting about all the injustices done to him, but Clint only cared about Leila.

  He started toward her, only to have Mike turn and aim the weapon at him. “I’ll kill you, motherfucker. Don’t touch my wife.”

  Clint froze, doing his best to keep his anger under control and failing miserably. Teeth gritted, he snarled at the guy. “She’s not your wife. And maybe if you treated her like the queen she is when you had the chance, she never would’ve left you. How about we settle this man to man? Or are you going to hide behind a woman and child?”

  “Fuck you!” He cocked the weapon and pointed the barrel between Clint’s eyes. “She’s mine. She belongs to me. My wife. My kid. None of your goddamned business. Understand? And I don’t hide behind anybody. You best say your prayers cause you’re about to die, motherf—”

  Time seemed to slow as Clint’s mind raced through the possible scenarios. He could charge the guy and tackle him, but with a loaded gun in the mix there was no telling where the bullet would strike. No. He couldn’t take that chance with Leila and Thomas in the room. He could stand there and let the guy shoot him, but that wasn’t high on his list of favourite solutions either. From the nearing of the sirens outside and the wild desperation in Mike’s eyes, distraction might work. Keep the guy talking until his route of escape was gone. But that might only make things worse. Mike seemed pretty set about not going back to prison. He’d probably prefer death by shootout over a future behind bars.

 
“Whoa,” Clint said, holding his hands up in the air. “Calm down, okay? Let’s talk about this and no one needs to die tonight.”

  “I’m sick of talking.” Mike scowled at him. “No one fucking listens anyway. Get on your knees, asshole.”

  Clint did as he asked, looking for a way out of this mess that wouldn’t involve causalities, other than Mike. From the periphery of his vision, he saw Leila inch slowly toward Thomas’s carrier on the floor and place the child inside. What the hell was she doing? If she had to make a quick exit she needed to have her baby close.

  Mike noticed the movement and snapped his attention back to Leila. “Stay right where you are. Don’t move. You think I’m fucking stupid or something, bitch?”

  She froze in place, defiance sparking in her dark eyes though she didn’t respond. Mike swiveled back to Clint. “Hope you enjoyed your taste of my wife, asshole, cause she’s the last woman you’ll ever have. Gonna have to beat her good for steppin’ out on me too. Maybe I’ll kick your ass too, just for the hell of it. Then I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”

  Clint fisted his hands at his sides and glared up at Mike, ready to unleash a whole can of whoop-ass on this ignorant son of a bitch. Threatening him was one thing. Threatening the woman Clint loved and her child was another. No one would hurt Leila. An icy calm descended over Clint’s mind, the same one that hit before each battle he’d fought overseas. One of them was going down and Clint was damned sure it wasn’t going to be him.

  He kept his gaze locked with Mike’s even as he prepared to lunge forward, planning to go for the guy’s ankles, hoping to sweep his feet out from under him and knock him to the floor. “Get out of the way, Leila!” he called in warning, praying she’d grab Thomas and take cover before the bullets started flying.

  “No.” The sound of a round being chambered echoed loud and Clint’s heart stumbled. “You get out of the way, Clint. This is my fight to settle.”