His Innocent Lover (Slade Security Team Series Book 3)
His Innocent Lover
By Leslie North
The Slade Security Team Series
Book 3
Blurb
Slade Security is hot on the heels of a dangerous assailant, and it’s up to Trent Larson, ex-Navy SEAL and Slade team member, to infiltrate the organization where the mole is hiding. When he meets Chloe Baker, he knows he’s found his perfect way in. Getting close to the naïve receptionist with the dazzling green eyes and open smile is easy. But Trent wasn’t counting on the curves hidden beneath Chloe’s baggy clothes, or his inexplicable need to protect her.
Wyoming native Chloe Baker has always been too trusting—first with her alcoholic father and then her ex-fiancé. A fresh start in San Diego is what she needs to put the past behind her and earn some money for her father’s hospital bills. When Trent Larson, with his ocean-blue eyes and sun-streaked hair walks into her life, Chloe agrees to a date. Soon, though, she starts to wonder if there’s something more to the sexy surfer than he’s telling her.
Trent knows he’s blurring the boundaries of his assignment, but he can’t stop himself from wanting to get closer to Chloe. But if she finds out she’s being lied to, it could mean the end to everything.
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Table of Contents
His Innocent Lover
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Read an Excerpt from the Next Slade Security Team Book
Chapter 1
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 upside he could see was that he was betting that she wasn’t wearing 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 which the girl had, 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 overhead. 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 scent, 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’s 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 Wyoming.”
Figures, Trent thought. Straight off the bus from fly-over country. “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, Trent thought. After spending time around the Jawharan family, he wanted to put an end to the threats made against them.
Her smile widened slightly. She had a dimple on her left cheek. “They’ll all be back on 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 Wyoming 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 and gave him a smile that made him think twice about leaving, “Sounds good.”
He glanced at the business card she’d just pushed at him, with fingers that sported brilliantly polished nails. That was one thing he hadn’t expected—Day-Glo 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.”
Chapter 2
Trent flopped into a chair at the office and glanced at his brother, who was bent over a computer. Without looking up from the display, Travis asked, “How’d it go?”
“Better than I thought it would. I’ve got what could be a great way in. What’s next in the game plan?” He leaned forward and braced his elbows on his thighs.
They’d been with Slade Security for almost six years, and while both of them actually tried to catch as many waves as they could, that had become harder and harder recently. Slade was spreading his people pretty thin these days.
Hitting the save button for the program he’d been working on, Travis leaned back and stretched. “Thought maybe I’d hit the bars near Coronado and see if I can catch any word on the street about who’s hiring. These Guardians of the Earth bozos have to be getting muscle from somewhere.”
Trent shook his head. “Could be overseas talent. Slade thinks they’re digging up locals for the attacks in Jawhara. I don’t get why Slade doesn’t just go for some bad PR on these dudes—a few words in the right places and their funding would dry up in a week.”
Travis lifted one eyebrow. Trent knew that look. Travis had been born two minutes earlier than Trent, but they both looked close enough to identical that it came in handy, at times. But Travis was a lot more laid back about things. Trent was already about to climb the walls from the lack of action.
“The organization’s done a lot of good. Slade wants proof before action—and to find out if it’s just one bad apple in the barrel—”
“Or a whole bunch of monkeys. Yeah, yeah, I heard the speech from Slade already.” He sat up. There were times he missed his SEAL days—you had your orders, you went, you fixed the problem, you got out. Of course, sometimes you shot up the wrong target, too. It was no wonder that Slade liked to be cautious about confirmation.
Getting up, Trent headed to the office fridge and pulled out a sparkling water. He tossed one to his brother and came back. “I’m set up as a surfer who’s looking to help. Shouldn’t be too hard to find out what’s what—the receptionist wants to learn how to surf. Those attacks on the drilling sites in Jawhara were carried out by amateurs who couldn’t even blow up the pipeline right.”
Travis shook his head. “Surf? Seriously? You know damn well the Sheikh of Jawhara and his brother are more than ready for these attacks to end. In fact, Khalil is supposed to be back in the states in two months, and I for one would love to have this taken care of by then. That’s what we get the big bucks for, after all.”
Finishing his drink, Trent tossed the can into the trash. He wondered what Chloe would think of that—did she recycle everything? But he only asked, “Have you found replacements for Brock and PJ, yet?”
Travis shook his head. “Slade said he’d handle it. I keep telling him he should just pull those two back from Jawhara, but he says they’re looking settled and happy. Meantime, it’s double duty for us. If you’re going to be giving surfing lessons, shouldn’t you make sure you still remember how to surf?”
Trent grinned and started for the door. “Guess that means I get to break out my board and make my cover solid. Later, dude. I’ve got to polish up my skills if I’m going to pass for the real thing. Then I’m going to see about a surprise dinner tonight.”
“Yeah, well don’t blow it, or Slade will have your head.”
“Worry on, bro. I’m catching a wave.”
Chapter 3
Chloe Baker glanced around the office. Coffee off—check. Alarm set—check. She couldn’t believe the Guardians had her locking this place and setting an alarm—what was there to steal, a few posters and a desk? But she had her orders and she wanted to keep her job.
She’d been in San Diego for all of four weeks. The temp agency had placed her at Guardians of the Earth, and so far it was an easy job. She wasn’t all that thrilled to be working for an environmental group—she’d been raised to associate ‘tree hugger’ with ‘nut case’—but these people seemed to be doing good things.
Plus she needed the money—San Diego was a lot more expensive than she’d thought it would be. However, it was also close to dad’s nursing facility and his doctors, and so far the weather had been great, with cool mornings and sunny afternoons.
Locking the door, she shook the knob to test that the lock had caught and peered through the glass to confirm that the alarm was blinking red. She turned and just about collided with a broad chest. He caught her arms, and she looked up at surfer dude.
She recognized that crooked smile at once—he’d been in earlier this afternoon. Now his shaggy, sun-streaked brown hair looked windblown, and the salty scent of the ocean clung to him. He’d changed from shorts and a T-shirt into jeans and a loose Hawaiian shirt, with large green-blue plants and flowers that made his blue eyes pop in his lean, tan face. Her pulse jumped a notch and she gulped down a breath. “Hey.”
Oh, that’s good—way to impress him with your wit. She grimaced.
He didn’t seem to notice. He set her on her feet and his smile widened into an easy grin. “Chloe, lovely Chloe, what kind of food do you like to eat?”
She stared at him, glanced behind her, and back to him. “Uh—weren’t we meeting Saturday? At the cove?”
He leaned a hand on the door, right over her shoulder. Warmth radiated off of his skin, and she could see the pinkness in his cheekbones—he’d been out on the water all afternoon, she’d guess. A sudden pang caught at her—damn, sometimes she missed home too much. Missed her horse. Missed being outside all day. Missed the ranch. She pushed back her shoulders. This was no time to wish things had gone differently. She was here for a fresh start—and the move kept her close to her dad.
Surfer dude shrugged one shoulder and stuck out his hand. “Name’s Trent. I was just passing by and heading out for sushi, and I hate to eat alone.
She shook his hand—he had a nice grip and unexpected calluses. He also had a strong , but gentle grip. He’d have made a good hand on the ranch. No, not going there. She bit her lower lip, then said, “Uh, well, I can’t even imagine eating raw fish.”
His grin flashed again, inviting her to share his good humor. “How do you feel about seafood?”
“I like trout. Salmon?”
“Oh, dude, you’re a California girl now and seriously cannot be dissing the local catch. Come on, I know just the place to get your feet wet.”
He grabbed her hand, but she hung back, waved at her clothes. “Shouldn’t I change?”
“Into something friendly?” She blinked. He leaned closer. He had flecks of gold and green in his eyes. The breath caught in her chest. “That’s a joke,” he said, suddenly serious.
Chloe looked at him. He was a stranger—she didn’t know him. She was used to a town where she knew just about everyone, had grown up with them, had gone to a school with ten other kids. This was all new to her. But the street had plenty of traffic, both cars and those on foot, the sun was still out, and he wasn’t trying to mug her.
Where had that thought come from? Was it the muscles she’d glimpsed earlier, outlined by his T-shirt? Or something else about him that screamed danger? He was just another surfer—you could see them strolling the streets around La Joll
a near San Diego every day.
She gave a nod and a vague wave at the street with her free hand. “Okay. Uh, I’m only a few blocks from here.”
He smiled. “You look perfect.” He swung her hand like he was walking with her, and that smile warmed.
Her knees wobbled. Mrs. Smythson—who’d looked after her and Dad on the ranch—had warned her about guys like him. That warning wasn’t helping. The bells might clang, and she could tell herself something wasn’t right—guys didn’t just hit on her, not with the way she’d dressed in baggy everything.
But he was like an ocean wave—he hit hard and she couldn’t resist the drag, the pull of his personality. She gave in, vowing that if it even barely looked like he was trying to kidnap her, she was hitting him with the can of mace in her purse.
He pulled her with him to a tiny restaurant not even a block away. She’d passed the place every day and hadn’t given it a second glance. Trent held the door for her—someone had taught him manners—and she stepped inside. She had to pause on the doorstep to let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
Trent put a hand on the small of her back and she gave a shiver. Something about his touch set off not only alarms, but a nice fire, low in her belly. She was going to have to watch that.
He guided her to a booth and slipped in opposite her. From the photos on the walls, she was going to guess this place served oriental food. Japanese, she thought. She put her elbows on the table and he waved at a waitress. The girl who came over had tattoos and piercings—something else Chloe wasn’t used to.
Trent asked, “Mind if I order for us? I promise to only get cooked things.”
Chloe had to smile at that. “Okay. But no chopsticks, and can I get an iced tea?”
She hadn’t done that much lately – smiling. But she couldn’t help herself around Trent. She decided then and there that she was just going to enjoy herself tonight. What’s the worst that could happen?
Chapter 4