His Secret Child (Slade Security Team Series Book 2)

by North, Leslie

  She hid a yawn of her own behind a hand. “Would it be rude if we headed back to the B&B?”

  “We’re spending the night at my place. It’s just a mile up the road. Travis already moved our stuff. Come on. I’ll take Jason.” Slade didn’t wait for a response; he bent over and lifted up Jason with one arm wrapped around him. “Hey, kiddo. Time to move.”

  Jason blinked, tried to find his feet, and settled for wrapping an arm around Slade and letting Slade half carry him. “Hey, you gonna be my dad now?”

  Slade lifted an eyebrow. They hadn’t said much to Jason, but the kid was bright and he had eyes in his head. It wasn’t surprising that he’d put two and two together. Slade was going to see about getting him into a good school this fall—another battle he’d have with Bethany. He grinned. He expected there’d be lots of them, which meant plenty of chances for make-up sex, too. “Maybe,” he said.

  Jason yawed. “Good. Mom said she was looking for a guy good enough to be my dad. Said the guy had big shoes to fill. You better marry Aunt Bethany—she’s always been second mom.”

  “Second mom?” Slade asked.

  Jason nodded, eyes sliding shut and staggering a little at Slade’s side. “Y’know, like second breakfast in the Hobbit. Mom never wanted me to see that movie, but Aunt Bethany said it was cool. The dragon was okay.”

  “Yeah, dragons are okay,” Slade said. He was pretty sure he hadn’t slain any dragon. No, he was going to end up married to his dragon, lord help him. He grinned. He was looking forward to more fierce battles with her.

  Chapter 16

  Bethany let herself out the back door of Slade’s beach house and headed down to the sand. When she got there, she sat down in the middle of the sand and let her tears fall. Not sad tears, not like when Tayra had told her about her diagnosis. Not frustrated tears for Jason when he was struggling with his condition. She was just—overwhelmed. The air smelled of salt and kelp. Seagulls were giving their last cries as they circled overhead. The sun painted the sky with flames, and the ocean hushed low waves onto the beach.

  She was still sitting in the damp sand when Slade found her. “What are you doing out here?”

  She rubbed at her damp cheeks with her fingers. “You don’t have any grass.”

  Slade frowned and sat down next to her, his knees pulled up and his shoulder bumping hers. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you need grass?”

  “So I’m not by myself. So I’m surrounded by all sorts of living things. Plants. Insects. Small animals. I can feel their energy and it helps ground me.”

  Slade put an arm over her shoulder. “I’ll call a landscaper. We’ll have a lawn tomorrow.”

  She punched his arm. “I’m not looking for you to solve every damn problem I mention. I was just saying.”

  “So…no lawn?”

  She shook her head. “No, no lawn.” She leaned into him. “Do you want more kids?”

  He nodded, shrugged, shook his head. “That one…I don’t know. Okay, maybe. But…hey, we have Jason. Might be good just to settle for one great kid. I don’t know how good I’d be with that whole feeding and changing diapers thing.”

  “You? Change a dirty diaper? I’d almost pay money to see that.”

  “I can disassemble an AK-47 and re-assemble the same gun in under ten minutes—does that count for being handy? I also haven’t heard you complain about my cooking.”

  “I told Maria we wouldn’t mind watching the kids for her. She’s going to bring the three youngest by in the morning so she can make a doctor’s appointment for the older ones. You can see how well you’d do as a daddy. Personally, I think you’ll have them saluting in half an hour.”

  He laughed. “Boot camp sergeant. My ambition in life. We should probably get some sleep if that’s happening.”

  She stood, reached back, and dusted the sand off of her shorts, stopping when she saw Slade watching her every movement.

  “Let’s go back to the house,” he said, his voice a low growl.

  Bethany led the way. Moonlight was spilling over the sand as the last sunlight faded from the sky. Slade draped an arm over her shoulder. “So, did you get the same feeling sitting in the sand as when you sit on grass?”

  “No. It was different.”

  “Different bad or different good?”

  Bethany shrugged. “Just different. There were different sounds to pick out. A different feel to the place.” She glanced at him. “I can get used to different.”

  Inside, she turned toward him. The smell of his cologne sent a burst of longing through her. She didn’t wait for him to make the first move. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pushed him back slightly. When his back connected with the wall, she grinned and launched herself at him.

  She kissed him, slipped her hands up under his T-shirt, reveled in the feel of his skin beneath her hands. When he moved to rid her of her clothing, Bethany helped him by toeing off her shoes. She licked up his neck and then nibbled on his earlobe.

  Pulling back, she looked him in the eyes. “I’m still not sure that this is a great idea, but I can’t keep my hands off of you. I need to feel alive, and the best place I can think to do that is in your arms.”

  “Does that mean you’re saying yes to my question?” She gave a soft hum and kissed him again. He took her by the shoulders and held her back. “Is that a yes? You’ll marry me?”

  “Slade, it’s not good for you to always get your way.”

  “Yeah, well, what happened to all that stability and order talk? Our getting married is about the best way to get Jason those things.”

  She relaxed into his hold. “This is the problem—you are right about too many things, Slade. Don’t you ever want to be wrong once in a while?”

  He brushed his fingers over her face. “When it comes to you—no. I’m not wrong about loving you. I’m not wrong that we’re going to be married.”

  “Yeah, well for now, I’m just going to enjoy the moment. Come on, big guy—bed is one place I’m never going to mind you taking over and being so focused on doing everything right.”

  END OF BOOK TWO

  Book Three, His Innocent Lover, out 29th October, 2015. Read a free excerpt below!

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  Read an Excerpt from the HIS INNOCENT LOVER

  Trent stepped into the office and smiled at the young woman on the phone. She was young, cute, and earnest—just the type of girl he usually avoided. Her short, brown hair had a no-nonsense style, and she’d dressed in baggy jeans and an even baggier dark green T-shirt with a peace sign on the front.

  She was probably a vegan, who would talk a guy to death before she’d let him get as far as first base, and about the only up side he could see was he was betting that she didn’t wear a bra. Slim as she was, she wouldn’t need one, and he thought he glimpsed a hint of nipple showing—the only bright point of his day.

  She held up a finger, indicating that he should wait for a minute. He nodded and wandered around the open space. The address was good, up in La Jolla, but the place was bare bones—no carpet, one desk, one chair and the girl had it, and it smelled like the curry house next door. The only décor were posters tacked onto white walls.

  He paused in front of a glossy photo of a boat directly in the path of a much larger fishing vessel with the words ‘Stop the Killing!’ painted on the sides. Gutsy move, that one. He ambled onto the next. Another picture showed a coal mine, but a cartoonist had added crossbones, poison symbols, and headstones in the clouds over it. Beneath the mine, the earth had been characterized as well, with the words, ‘Stop Killing Me!’

  “Lot of stopping, lot of killing,” Trent muttered. The third picture caught his eye. He wandered over to it, and began to wonder if he was going to find out some
useful information here after all. It was a picture of the oil wells in Kuwait on fire, the billowing black smoke rising to the heavens, while the earth below became stained with the fallout and ash. Three men and two women stood in the foreground, big smiles on their faces. One of them held up a Guardians of the Earth poster.

  “Can I help you?” The soft voice came from behind him. A nice voice. Too bad she was hooked up with the wrong people.

  Trent turned and put on an easy grin. “Yeah! I was wondering what you folks are doing to save the oceans? I mean, dude, I surf the waters off of La Jolla every day, and the crap I see makes a guy want to put on way more than a wet suit.”

  He thought he did a credible job of sounding like a surfer with nothing else on his mind but where to find the next big wave—so long as it was a clean wave.

  The receptionist still narrowed her eyes as if she were seeing more than a guy with a tan and a smile for her. “I don’t have anyone in today who can speak with you, but could I set up an appointment for next week?”

  “What? That’s like, nine days away? Come on, you’ve gotta have someone here who’s fighting the good fight.”

  “Sorry. They’re all off trying to save the earth.” She sounded chipper, cheerful—way too upbeat.

  “Like in those gnarly photos?” Trent jerked a thumb at the wall behind him. He’d thickened his surfer dude accent.

  One eyebrow lifted. She sat up straighter. Trent pegged her now—the class know-it-all, the girl who had all of the answers, and who loved being the teacher’s pet. She probably believed in the cause, ate apple pie, and was a straight-A type with the energy and drive to save the world. “I believe they’re in the Middle East right now, fighting the big oil countries that are slowly destroying the ozone and polluting our breathing air.”

  Trent nodded and blinked. “Middle East, huh? Sounds hot and dry.”

  She straightened the notepad on her desk into a sharp ninety degree angle. “There’s a small country over there that seems to be another Eden. From the pictures they’ve sent back, the place is covered in plant life and looks more like a tropical paradise than a desert. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the oil wells they’re targeting are in the desert, but the capital city is lush.” She tapped on her tablet and pulled up an image. “That’s the sheikh’s home. Nice, huh?”

  Trent came over so he could lean over her shoulder and look at the photo. He got a whiff of perfume—no, had to be soap. This wasn’t a perfume kind of girl. Patchouli, he figured. He also got a good look at her tablet—it wouldn’t be hard to hack into. “Wow! The guy must be really rolling in the dough. Man, I didn’t realize it was getting so late. If I don’t head back, I’m going to miss the killer set that supposed to hit with the tide. Full moon, dude.”

  The receptionist managed a smile. Something a little wistful came into her eyes. “I’ve always wanted to try surfing. I’m from Kansas.”

  Figures, Trent thought. Corn-fed girls and flat land. “Bummer. Glad you made it out. You should check out the beach, for sure. You think everyone will be back next week if I stop in? I mean, I don’t want to wait too long to start doing something about stopping the planet killing.” And stopping a few other things.

  Her smile widened slightly. She had a dimple on her left cheek. “They’ll all be back Thursday.”

  “Awesome! Thanks for the four-one-one.” Trent turned to leave. The receptionist caught his wrist and stuffed a business card into his hand. “Here’s my number. Call me sometime. I really would like to learn to surf.”

  Surfer dude scores again, he thought. For once, he felt bad about it. She was just a good soldier—she believed in the cause. She didn’t know she was working for an organization with an agenda that was more about filling up private bank accounts than it was about saving anything. She’d be a perfect way in for him. He let her hold linger on his skin. She had soft hands—the corn-fed Kansas girl was for real, but he wasn’t. He gave her his best smile. “Sounds good. I’m heading out this weekend, if you want to tag along. Meet me at the cove. Say noon, Saturday?” She let go of his hand. He glanced at the business card she’d just pushed at him with a brilliantly polished nail. That was one thing he hadn’t expected—DayGlo nails. What other surprises did she have?

  He read the name and number and gave her his killer smile again. “I will definitely be calling you, Chloe.”

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  The Rosso Family Series

  Greek Billionaire’s Blackmailed Bride (Excerpt Below)

  Greek Billionaire’s Forbidden Lover

  Greek Billionaire’s Uncontrollable Attraction

  The Botros Brothers Series (Exclusively on Kindle Unlimited)

  The Sheik’s Accidental Pregnancy

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  The Sheikh's Demanding Fiancée

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  Greek Billionaire’s Blackmailed Bride (The Rosso Family Series Book One)

  It was almost too bad Petrakis hadn’t died instead.

  Antonio Rosso listened to the man drone on…and on. He knew Petrakis had never approved of him, but the lawyer seemed to be taking pleasure in detailing every bequest in the will—every small donation, every tiny remembrance, every charity that would get part of his father’s vast estate.

  Or had this been his father’s idea? Matthias Rosso had been a despot in life—and in death he still wanted everyone to dance to the tune he set. Antonio shifted on his feet, and got a glare from his sister, Alexandra.

  Both his sisters had straight, black hair—like his mother had. They also had the same dark eyes. An old familiar pain twisted inside Antonio—regret his mother had not loved, the ache of memory, the wish just to see her once more. But he did see her—he could see her any time he looked at his sisters. He wished that was comfort enough, but he would have to make do with no more arguments with his father.

  Alexandra gave him one more glare that told him to behave. Even though Antonio was the eldest, Alexandra had become their mother after Livia Rosso had died. She sat next to Eva now, holding Eva’s hand, while Antonio stood, leaning on a bookcase filled with musty, leather-clad legal volumes. At least Antonio assumed they were legal books. His mouth twitched at the thought of opening one and finding a Playboy centerfold.

  Petrakis raised an eyebrow and cleared his throat. Antonio tried to pay more attention. Did Petrakis think he was telling them anything new? Matthias had already told them most of this time and time again, usually with the stipulation that if they did not behave they would get nothing.

  Antonio listened to the list of residences scattered around Europe and even in North America—his father’s hobby, he thought, collecting places as well as people, and money that could have been better spent.

  Finally Petrakis got to the family.

  “To my daughters Alexandra and Eva, I leave each a trust fund of fifty-million US dollars to be administered by their older br
other Antonio until each of my daughters reaches the age of twenty-five. If either of my daughters should marry before the age of twenty-five, I leave it up to my son to release the trust or to continue to manage it.” Antonio straightened, anger tightening his jaw and stomach. Petrakis glanced at him. “Your father included that condition because he didn’t want his daughters to be targets for men who would marry for money only. It is your decision as to whether any man is to be entrusted with such a large sum of money.”

  Antonio snorted. “As if they aren’t smart enough to know that. My father thought we lived in the eighteen hundreds, when women couldn’t be trusted with anything. He glanced at his sisters. Alexandra sat still, her dark eyes flat, but color burned in her cheeks. Eva kept her head down. Antonio would have to talk to them later. They could break this trust—or he would simply put them in charge of their own money.

  Petrakis shook his head and began to read again. “To my son, Antonio, I leave this world with a heavy heart for the wrongs I have done. There was a time when Antonio found it easy to trust others. But that changed, and I blame myself for that. To make up for this, I leave the rest of my estate to my son, with the exception of the Villa Livia on Kato Antikeri, which goes to Claire Bennett.”

  Antonio straightened. His sisters did as well and Eva asked, “Claire who?” She looked at Antonio, but he did not remove his stare from Petrakis. The lawyer put down the will and folded his hands on top of it.

  Crossing his arms, Antonio asked, “Tell me what it’s going to take to break this will. I am not allowing my mother’s house—the place where she is buried, the villa named after her, to go to…to an American.”

  “You know this Claire?” Alexandra asked.

  Antonio ignored her question as well.