Protecting His Beautiful Lover (Southern Soldiers of Fortune Book 3)

by Leslie North

  For a moment, she just looked at him, mouth open, her eyes going from Margaret to Ashley, then back to him, tears welling and spilling down her cheeks. She scooted Ashley aside and got down on her knees beside him, hands shaking as she reached out to trace a finger over the beautiful antique amethyst ring he’d picked out with Ashley’s help.

  Tara bit her lip then gave him a tremulous smile. “I will.”

  Ashley squealed with joy and hugged them both and Margaret clapped and Clint kissed Tara and slid his ring on her finger, exactly where it belonged.

  “I love you,” he said, cupping her cheeks and wiping away her tears with his thumbs.

  “I love you too,” she said, leaning in to kiss him, then reaching over to pull Ashley into their circle of love. “And you three.”

  A short while later the doorbell rang again, and Ashley rushed over to let in the rest of the gang. Levon and Olive were there with Allie, who was into everything now, and Noah and Serena with their baby, Gracie. Good thing Tara had said yes, since Clint had invited them all over to celebrate the proposal that only his instincts had told him would be accepted. Looking back, though, his instincts hadn’t steered him wrong yet, at least when he really took the time to listen to them.

  While the gals gathered in the kitchen to discuss the ring and the plans for the upcoming ceremony, Clint and Levon and Noah went out on to the back patio to have a beer.

  “Man, it’s hard to believe this is where we’re at now, huh?” Levon said, staring up at the blue skies above. “Pretty soon, we’ll have to change the name of the business to Southern Dads with Daughters.”

  “Right?” Noah chuckled. “If our SEAL teams could see us today, eh?”

  “They’d be fucking jealous as hell,” Clint said, clinking bottles with his buddies. “To us. Finally getting our shit together, professionally and personally.”

  “Amen, brother.” Levon grinned. “Well, I always had my shit together, but you guys were a sorry lot.”

  “Dream on, dumbass. You were nothing but a frigging player when you started with us,” Noah joked.

  “I believe the term you’re looking for is Himbo,” Clint added, then laughed as Levon flipped him off.

  “You guys were just as bad as me. Sleeping around and never getting tied down.”

  “I hope you’re talking past tense out here,” Olive said, opening the patio doors to step outside and join them. “About the sleeping around part anyway.”

  “Baby, you know there’s no one but you for me ever again,” Levon said, wrapping his arm around his wife and pulling her in for a kiss. “You’re my one and only.”

  “I’d better be.” Olive grinned up at him and pinched his side for good measure. “Your daughter needs a diaper change.”

  “Right.” Levon took another sip of beer and handed the bottle to his wife. “Duty calls. Be right back.”

  “Thank God we’ll be doing potty training soon,” Olive said and chugged some beer.

  Next out the door was Serena, looking for Noah. “Have you seen Gracie’s Sheepie? Please tell me we didn’t forget it at home.”

  “I’m on it.” He glanced over at the guys, then set his bottle on the table and pulled out his car keys, stopping to kiss his wife before heading toward the driveway at the side of the house. “Pretty sure I saw her toss it on the floor of the car on the way over here.”

  Clint watched his friend jog off and shook his head, glad to not be quite as whipped as his buddies. Then, of course, the patio doors opened again and there stood Ashley, with Tara close behind her. “Daddy, can you come help us reach a box on the top shelf? I want to show everyone my drawings.”

  “Sure thing, sweetpea,” he said, heading in that direction and ignoring Olive and Serena’s amused stares. Finally, at the door, he stopped and turned to look back at them. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Olive winked at him. “Go help her, Daddy.”

  “Never thought I’d see the big, tough SEALs get all soft and squishy on us,” Serena added, smirking. “It’s so cute.”

  Okay. Fine. Maybe he was just as whipped as Noah and Levon, but honestly, Clint wouldn’t have it any other way. He had the best daughter in the world, the most beautiful fiancée ever, work that he loved and the best friends a guy could ever ask for. Not to mention the bonds of his SEAL team past that would never be broken. What more could he ever wish for?

  He smiled at the ladies, then leaned in and gave Tara a big old kiss himself before swooping his daughter up into his arms, holding tight to the two people he loved most in the world, and knowing in his heart that he’d never let go.

  End of Protecting His Beautiful Lover

  Southern Soldiers of Fortune Book Three

  Protecting His Pregnant Lover, October 8, 2020

  Protecting His Kidnapped Family, October 15, 2020

  Protecting His Beautiful Lover, October 22, 2020

  P.S. Do you like a man who can take charge? Please keep reading for an exclusive extract from Guarding the Single Mother.

  Thank You!

  Thank you so much for purchasing my book. It’s hard for me to put into words how much I appreciate my readers. If you enjoyed this book, please remember to leave a review. Reviews are crucial for an author’s success and I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to review the book. I love hearing from you!

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  About Leslie

  Leslie North is the USA Today Bestselling pen name for a critically-acclaimed author of women's contemporary romance and fiction. The anonymity gives her the perfect opportunity to paint with her full artistic palette, especially in the romance and erotic fantasy genres.

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  BLURB

  Retired Navy SEAL, Clint Backwater, enjoys his solitary life as owner of the Ask Questions Later gun range. It’s the kind of place you find because you know a guy. So when Leila Ortiz, a petite woman with a “baby on board” sticker on the back of her car—and an 18-month-old boy in her arms—shows up at the range, panicked and desperate for a gun, he knows something is wrong. Having grown up in the foster system, Clint has seen what happens when you let yourself get too invested—things get messy, people leave. He made himself a promise to never get emotionally involved again, but the former SEAL in him feels the tug to help this woman and her child.

  Leila’s ex-husband is being released from prison early on good behavior and she found out too late. He was supposed to serve five years, not two, and Leila is unprepared to protect herself and her son. She promised him they’d never run again—they’ve made a nice life for themselves and the last thing she wants to do is leave it all behind.

  When Clint refuses to give Leila a gun without lessons, she agrees to return to the range to learn. At first, Leila won’t say why she’s so desperate for protection, but when the threats from her ex escalate, it becomes clear what she’s afraid of.

  Clint is a loner. Always has been, always will be. So when Leila and her little son enter his life, it hits him—hard— maybe being alone isn’t what he needs. Still, having his solitary life disrupted when he invites the little family into his home is a bit tougher to take than he thought. With Leila and her son in danger, though, he’ll do whatever it takes to keep them safe—even putting up with stray toys and changing a diaper or two.

  But the biggest danger might be to his heart, when it starts to look like the safest thing for Leila and her baby might be to leave her problems—and her budding relationship with Clint—behind.

  Grab your copy of Guarding the Single Mother (SEAL Endgame Book One) from

  www.LeslieNorthBooks.com

  EXCERPT

  Chapter One

  A quiet day on the gun range was a good day on the gun range.

  At least that was usually Clint Blackwater’
s philosophy. Today, though, as he wandered around the small showroom of his business, Ask Questions Later Firearms and Training, he couldn’t seem to shake the restlessness inside him.

  If he was truthful with himself, he’d have to admit that his skittishness had nothing to do with the slow day at the range and everything to do with the approach of the one-year anniversary of his retirement from the military. Since joining the Navy right out of high school and undergoing training to become a SEAL, he’d always been a busy guy. Busy, but solitary. Relationships weren’t really his thing, platonic or otherwise. Loved ones, in Clint’s experience, had a tendency to disappear. When he’d been in the military, surrounded by his team and other colleagues every day with privacy at a minimum, he’d thought he’d appreciate the quiet peace of being alone.

  Now, though, he was lucky if he talked to six people a day, and sometimes things were a bit too… silent. Not that he was a recluse or anything. It was just living by himself out in the Nevada desert meant his penchant for self-sufficiency came in handy, even if it was lonely at times.

  Today, his buddy, Devin, was there to talk to as he checked the inventory of ammunition and firearms and accessories for the umpteenth time. Ask Questions Later provided him with a livable income between the sales of stock and the fees he charged locals for using the gun range and for shooting lessons, but he wouldn’t be making the Forbes 500 list any time soon. That was okay. After seeing the worst humanity had to offer during his stint in the SEALs, and prior to that as a kid growing up in the foster care system, Clint was fine with making enough to get by. He didn’t need to be rich. He didn’t need much of anything—and he liked it that way.

  Clint moved from display case to display case, noting the stock in each, while doing his best to ignore Devin chatting loudly on his cell phone. To call the other man a “buddy” was probably being generous. Devin was more like a guy who Clint talked to when he came in to shoot. They sometimes shared a meal at Ritzi’s Diner in town. That was about. Still, it was more than Clint did with most folks these days.

  He finished up marking down the sixteen boxes of .45 caliber bullets in front of him, then moved to the next glass-topped case, giving Devin some serious side-eye as he did so.

  “What do you mean she won’t go out with me?” Devin whined into his phone. The guy was pretty typical of the sort who came into the gun range. A wannabe cowboy with a Stetson on his head and a holster strapped around his waist. Nevada tended to be a haven for Mavericks and outlaws, due to the wide-open spaces and the mind-your-own-business attitude of the local law enforcement and residents. It’s what led to things like Las Vegas and the Mustang Ranch and dudes like Devin who fancied themselves Billy the Kid reborn. “I’m everything she said she wanted in her online dating profile.”

  Clint gave a snort and shook his head. Devin was harmless enough. Clint had run into lots of guys like him in the military. Gungho to preserve life, liberty, and the American way—as long as it didn’t push them too far out of their comfort zone. But everyone had their own comfort zone, Clint supposed. As a SEAL, he’d been accustomed to facing danger the likes of which most people couldn’t imagine. But internet dating, like Devin? Not a chance.

  He shuddered at the thought of connecting with a total stranger and trying to make small talk.

  The sound of a car door slamming echoed through the quiet store and Clint peered through the sunlight streaming through the glass front door. Outside, a dust-covered black SUV had pulled up. Or backed up, would be more accurate. Through the hazy glass he saw a “Baby on Board” sticker in the back window.

  Probably another local dad wanting some away time from his wife and kids.

  Clint turned to head back behind the counter. He’d just about made it when he heard Devin behind him saying, “Uh, I think my dream girl just pulled into my life.”

  Cringing, Clint gave his buddy a disgusted look over the corny line and was just about to rib him about it when the bells above the door jingled and in walked said girl.

  Or woman, to be more accurate. A woman with a baby.

  Huh. Okay. Clint narrowed his gaze a bit, focusing on her as she stepped closer and moved out of the stream of light that silhouetted her from behind. Twenty-five, he’d guess, so about ten years younger than him. Wavy dark hair, golden bronzed skin. Large dark eyes that were scanning the shop nervously.

  She’s scared.

  The thought hit Clint out of nowhere, considering he’d never seen her before in his life, but he’d bet his business and everything he owned that he was right. His instincts had been honed on the battlefield, and retirement hadn’t dulled them. After all, you couldn’t afford to get careless when you owned a gun shop.

  His conclusions were only confirmed as she moved closer to the front counter and met his gaze. There were shadows in those pretty brown eyes of hers, deep and dark and dangerous. Then there was the fact her nails looked chewed to the quick and her hands shook slightly as she bounced her cute baby in one arm. A boy, from what he could tell from the blue jeans and baseball hat on the kid’s head. Maybe a year, year and a half old, Clint guessed.

  “Welcome to Ask Questions Later Firearms and Training,” he said, his words emerging a bit rougher than usual because of the odd constriction in this throat. Not nervousness. Not adrenaline. Attraction. Clint swallowed hard and crossed his arms. “How can I help you today?”

  The woman took a deep breath and checked behind her once more before saying quietly, “I need to buy a gun.”

  Oh God.

  The last place Leila Ortiz ever thought she’d find herself was in a gun store. She wasn’t an aggressive or confrontational person by nature. Just the opposite in fact. But circumstances—and the fact that the Federal Bureau of Prisons had screwed up her contact information—meant that she and her son needed protection in a major way, and they needed it ASAP.

  She eyed the man behind the counter and did her best to look as confident as possible. She couldn’t match his defensive posture, not with Thomas in her arms, but she could mimic that blank, closed-off stare he was giving her. “I’ve heard that Glocks are good for women to use. I’d like to see one of those, please.”

  “A Glock, huh?” The guy narrowed his gaze on her then stepped forward. Leila stepped back automatically before she stopped herself. Years of abuse had taught her it was easier to retreat than to stand her ground, but that had all changed the day Thomas had been born. Now she had more than herself to think about. Now she had her son to protect. He looked her up and down. Not in a sexual way, more in a what-the-heck-are-you-doing-in-here way. She checked him out too, again out of habit. If attacked it was best to have a good description for the cops. Short, light brown hair. Blue eyes. Maybe five-ten, five-eleven max, with a muscular build. A hint of a tattoo on his left bicep peeked out from beneath the sleeve of his dark blue T-shirt—a snake perhaps, wrapped around a knife? Weird.

  Leila shook off her errant thoughts about the man. She didn’t care if this dude had Daffy Duck and Wily Coyote inked all over himself. She needed a gun and fast. Her ex was coming back to town and no way would she allow him anywhere near her or their son. He’d lost his parental privileges the day he’d beat her up so badly she’d ended up in the ER with two broken ribs and a bruised collarbone. That had been the same night she’d discovered she was pregnant with Thomas. Talk about the good with the bad. She stepped up to the counter once more and set Thomas atop of it. He was eighteen-months old now and weighed nearly twenty-five pounds. Good for Thomas, not so good for her when she had to hold him for extended lengths of time. Leila was strong, but her usual workouts had not prepared her for handling a squirming kid in her arms for hours at a time.

  “Unless you think there’s another firearm that might work better for me,” she said, doing her best to focus on the important conversation at hand and not the fact that her baby was currently grinning and cooing at the man behind the counter. “I don’t really care as long as it works.”

  The guy placed t
he heels of his hands against the glass topped case and rested his weight on them. His movement caused his muscles to ripple beneath his T-shirt. Not that she was noticing. Nope. After a lifetime of bad experiences with men, Leila was done with them. Well, except for Thomas. But she’d raise him right. Raise him to respect women and not yell at them or hit them. She’d had quite enough of that from her father growing up and later from her ex. If only she’d known he’d been involved with a gang—running drugs and worse— she’d never have married him. But she’d been young and stupid, and she’d given him her heart and her virginity at twenty-two thinking he’d take her away to a better life. He’d taken her away all right. Straight to hell. Now, three years later, she was alone and raising her son as best she could.

  No way would Mike ever get near them again. No. Way.

  “You ever used a gun before?” the guy asked, his tone dripping with suspicion.

  “No.” Leila raised her chin. “But it can’t be that hard, right? Point and shoot.”

  “Not exactly.” The guy glanced over her shoulder and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Shit. Someone else was in the store. She’d vaguely registered another person when she’d entered but had been so focused on getting a weapon she hadn’t paid much attention. Stupid, Leila. So stupid. The first thing they’d taught her in those self-defense classes she’d taken last year had been to be aware of your surroundings at all times.