Guarding His Fake Family Read online

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, JANUARY 2021

  Copyright © 2021 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Katie Knight is a pen name created by Relay Publishing for co-authored Romance projects. Relay Publishing works with incredible teams of writers and editors to collaboratively create the very best stories for our readers.

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations.

  www.relaypub.com

  Blurb

  Former Navy SEAL and true crime author Simon Stone needs a break, not a girlfriend. After initial success with his first book, his reputation was smeared by a backstabbing ex and now he’s looking to redeem himself. Alisha Lewis, the sister of one of his former squad mates could be his ticket to his next bestseller. She’s sexy, smart and just happens to be an investigative reporter working on what might be the perfect story for his next book. A smuggling operation in a local auction house is intriguing, but so is Alisha. After the adrenaline rush of a stakeout gone bad, they share a night of passion, one they both agree was a mistake—especially after a cop buddy tells Simon that the story is all a fabrication by Alisha. But that one night of passion has lasting consequences when Alisha learns she’s pregnant.

  Alisha’s life has certainly been better. She’d been on the cusp of exposing a major smuggling operation and now she’s pregnant and—thanks to Simon confronting her in the middle of the newspaper office—she’s been pulled off investigative stories. She’s got more than a bit of a grudge, so while she feels obligated to tell Simon about their little surprise, Alisha makes it clear that she doesn’t need his help. She didn’t expect him to insist on coming along to keep her and the baby safe. And she definitely didn’t expect to need his protection when they stumble on an abduction in progress. Soon, they’re up to their necks in crooked cops, kidnappers, and the kidnap victim’s abandoned baby. Not to mention the red-hot passion that continues to flare between them. It’s enough to give a girl fits. Worse yet? As they work to solve the mystery, Alisha realizes she’s starting to fall hard for the sexy SEAL. But will they be able to survive long enough to fall in love?

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  End of Guarding His Fake Family

  Thank You!

  About Katie

  About Leslie

  Sneak Peek: Protecting His Pregnant Ex

  Also by Katie

  One

  When most people heard the name Stagecoach Pub, they probably pictured Wild West themes and maybe a mechanical bull to ride in the back. In truth, it was just like every other hole in the wall bar anywhere else on earth. No cowboys. No bulls. Plenty of dim lights and sticky floors.

  Simon Stone had seen his share of them in his twenty-eight years, from Istanbul to Indianapolis and everywhere in between. If there was one thing his stint as a Navy SEAL had been good for, it was travel. He sipped his Jameson and stared at the reflection of the other patrons crowded in behind him.

  Actually, being a SEAL had given Simon way more than an appreciation for dive bars. He deeply valued the skills he’d learned, the bonds he’d forged, the experiences that had pushed him to grow and change. He’d loved being a SEAL, which was why it had been so hard to leave it all behind. But being a SEAL had taught him to pursue justice, no matter the risk to himself. And sometimes that pursuit of justice meant resigning from the military, digging up the truth behind a criminal ring, and exposing the story to the public. Transition out of the Navy and back into civilian life had been challenging, but now he was a bestselling true crime author. Or at least he had been, until his bitter, manipulative ex had smeared his reputation in the tabloids, claiming he hadn’t written most of the book that had made him famous.

  “Can I get a Chivas and soda, please?” a woman said to his right, nudging into the narrow opening between Simon and a raucous group of twentysomethings, out for a night on the town in Seattle. “And can you tell me if Hendrix Andronetto has been in tonight?”

  “Not that I’ve seen.” A bartender gave her a wary look and a curt nod. “Be right back with your drink.”

  The name caught Simon’s attention, as did the fact that the woman was gorgeous. If you went for that whole petite, curvy, Zoe Kravitz-type, which he did. Except he wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship at the moment—not even a casual, one-night fling. In fact, he’d sworn off women in general after his last bad breakup. Nope.

  Didn’t mean a guy couldn’t look, though. From beneath his lashes, Simon took in her jeans and leather jacket, the long, dark, soft-looking braids hanging down her back, and the smooth, mocha skin of her hands as she handed the bartender her card. Yep. She was a beauty all right. And she looked vaguely familiar too, though he couldn’t place from where. He wondered if she was an actress or a musician. But then, no one else in the bar was giving her looks of recognition.

  A stool opened up beside Simon’s and she perched on the edge of it like she was afraid it might haul off and bite her in the ass any second. Or maybe like she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea that she was hanging around because she wanted to be close to him. Simon snorted and took another swig of his whiskey.

  “Something funny?” the woman asked, turning her almond-shaped dark eyes on him. Lovely, they sparkled like onyx at midnight. Those full lips of hers pinched slightly at the corners and Simon couldn’t tell if she was pissed or holding back a laugh at his expense. Lord knew it felt like the rest of the world was laughing at him right now. Or accusing him of things that weren’t true, thanks to Laura’s accusations of plagiarism.

  “Nope.” Simon tore his gaze from the woman and downed the rest of the contents of his glass in one long swallow, grateful for the distracting burn at the back of his throat. The whole reason he was here was to get an idea for his new book, not ogle the other patrons. “Sorry.”

  “Well, if you’re hanging out in this hellhole, then yeah. You are sorry,” the woman said, after thanking the bartender for her drink.

  Unable to resist a good taunt, Simon shot back, “And what does that make you, since you’re here too?”

  She blinked at him for a long moment, until Simon was sure she’d tell him where to get off and exactly how to get there. Then, surprisingly, she grinned, showing off even white teeth and an adorable dimple in her right cheek and damn. He needed to lay off the booze. He’d only had one glass so far, but it must be affecting him badly if he was noticing this gal’s dimples and shit.

  “Touché,” the woman said, toasting him wit
h her glass before taking a hearty gulp. “Though I’d argue that I get a pass because I’m here for work.”

  “Yeah?” Simon gave her a side-glance and raised a brow. She’d dressed to blend in, but someone as fresh and beautiful as her still looked about as out of place in here as a nun in a whorehouse. “And what is it that you do?”

  The woman tossed back the rest of her drink and ordered another. “I’m an investigative journalist with The Seattle Standard.” She shifted slightly on her stool to face him, holding out a hand with perfectly painted nails. “Alisha Lewis.”

  Great. Just what he needed. Another nosy writer in his life. He didn’t shake her hand, just held up his glass to the bartender to signal for more whiskey, then mumbled his name, “Simon Stone.”

  Her stare tingled on the side of his face for a few seconds before she said, “The Simon Stone? The one who wrote Gunrunner: A True Story of Arms Smuggling in the US Military?”

  Six months ago, getting recognized on the street for his work would have made him proud. Now, it made him feel the need to check his six to make sure they weren’t making fun of him, or worse, getting ready to punch him out, claiming he’d “betrayed” the brotherhood of the military by putting his name on someone else’s story. Both things had happened of late. More times than he wanted to recall.

  All because his ex-girlfriend had been bitter about their breakup and had lied to the tabloids about him plagiarizing someone else’s work. It wasn’t true, of course, but the truth didn’t make for salacious headlines or increased sales, so yeah. The lie had stuck and been perpetuated to the point that Simon was desperate to get back out on the beat and find a story so amazing that it would shut the world up about those false claims once and for all.

  So he’d come here to the Stagecoach to try and find a lead. Rumor had it the underbelly of Seattle society hung out here, so what better place to cruise for dirt than this place, with its reported mafia ties and crooked cops galore?

  Except all he’d found so far was a whole lot of nothing. And Lois Lane here beside him.

  Instead of answering her question, he grunted. He wished to hell he could figure out where he knew her from because that would give him some idea of how to proceed. With her looks and slick appearance, there was a possibility she was friends with his ex, Laura. She’d been pretty and perky too, right up until she’d stabbed him in the back.

  But there was something about the woman beside him that didn’t strike him as the sorority sister, happy-hour honey type Laura usually hung out with. And besides, he read The Seattle Standard. It was a serious paper, publishing tough stories. Like Pulitzer-Prize winning tough. It had its fluff sections, like any other paper, but it wasn’t a scandal sheet by any stretch. Not the place a writer would go if she wanted to dish dirt and whip up a frenzy over nonsense for a living. Not to mention that the sharp intelligence in those dark eyes sparked an answering tingle of awareness in him.

  She’d said her last name was Lewis. But the only Lewis he knew was Michael from his SEAL squad. They’d been best buds, until Mike had transferred to a different unit. Unless…

  “My, my,” she said, giving him an arch stare. “Don’t make yourself too tired carrying around that huge chip on your shoulder.”

  Shit.

  “You’re Michael Lewis’s sister, aren’t you?” The memory slid into place, though it had been years since he’d last seen her in person. He sighed and tipped the bartender for his second drink. “We served in the Middle East together.”

  “I know.” She watched him over the rim of her glass. “I’m flattered you remember me, Simon. Last time I saw you, I was sixteen and you and my brother were three sheets to the wind at my mama’s cookout.”

  A small smile broke through his stoic defenses. “God, I remember that day. It was so hot I thought I was going to melt. Mike made me man the grill while he flirted with all those girls in the pool. Asshole.”

  “Yep.” Alisha snorted. “He said you loved cooking, though. Claimed he was doing you a favor, putting you in charge of the burgers and steaks.”

  “Favor?” Simon shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Mike always was a master of BS.”

  “Got that right.” Alisha took another swallow of her drink. “So, how’ve you been?”

  Simon shrugged. “Depends on the day. How’s Mike? Haven’t seen him since he joined the Six.”

  “Good, I think. He’s deployed on a mission, so no word home until he’s done. You know how it is.”

  “I do.” For the past few months, Simon had retreated to the privacy of his own company, more for damage-control than anything, but now he found himself wanting to talk to Alisha more and more. He swiveled slightly to face her too, their knees brushing beneath the bar before he pulled back. “So, you work for The Seattle Standard, huh? What division?”

  “Right now? The local crime beat.” She shrugged. “But my hope is to rise to the national level and forge my own path. The Standard’s big on making you pay your dues, prove yourself before you can move up the ranks. It’s fine—I don’t mind hard work.”

  He connected the dots, because that’s what had made him a bestselling true crime author, no matter what the public chose to believe. “And you came to the Stagecoach to ferret out your next big exposé.”

  “Correct.” She glanced over to where the bartender stood at the opposite end of the bar, talking with another customer, then gave Simon a sly grin. “I got a tip that he and his brother have serious ties to a West Coast syndicate. Most of the cops here are in their pocket too, from what I’ve heard. Keeps them out of jail and lets them do their dirty work hassle free. Figured this whole situation was ripe for an exposé.”

  Simon frowned, his gazed darting to the hippie-looking bartender, with his shaggy beard and peace-sign T-shirt, then back to Alisha. “Wait. You’re saying that guy over there is Hendrix Andronetto’s brother?”

  “I am.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to him, her spicy cinnamon scent tickling Simon’s nose and stirring all sorts of inappropriate thoughts about his best buddy’s little sister. The heat of her warmed his arm and his pulse tripped a little. Simon sat back slightly, away from temptation. This was nuts. The last thing he needed right now was to get the hots for Alisha, and yet damn if those little flames didn’t burst to life inside him anyway, threatening to torch his good intentions.

  Unaware of the kindling lust inside him, Alisha continued. “I’m guessing there’s more than enough story for two people.”

  And just like that, Simon’s interest switched from purely sexual to scintillated author. “I’m listening.”

  * * *

  “Let’s move to a table,” Alisha said, not wanting to risk someone overhearing their conversation. She also wanted to put a little more space between them. It was way too tempting to keep pressing close to his side and whispering in his ear. Bad enough she’d run into her older brother’s super-hot buddy tonight of all nights. She’d spent many a teenaged night drooling over him after that stupid cookout at her mom’s house. Then she had to go and offer to share her story with him. Alisha wasn’t prone to bouts of generosity when it came to getting ahead in her career. She’d been out in the field long enough to know there were only so many scoops to go around and those who didn’t get the byline ended up working the dispatch desk forever. She was not about to be one of those people for any longer than necessary.

  Yet, here she was, weaving through the crowds in this dump of a place, ready to share her exclusive tip with this guy because he knew her brother and because he’d been a hottie back in the day. Still was, from the few glances Alisha had allowed herself. Fit and muscular without being too bulky, with a chiseled jaw and tanned skin, his Italian heritage apparent in that thick, curly dark hair and wicked eyes made of sin. Oh yeah. If Alisha had been looking for a little fun, Simon Stone here would have been just her type. Except she wasn’t looking. Not at all. She was focused on her career. Family and a personal life could come later, when—or
rather if—she wanted them. Which she wasn’t sure she did. After all, her mom had raised kids on her own and look how that had turned out.

  They managed to snag a small booth for two in a secluded corner of the bar. Alisha slipped in one side while Simon took the other, those long legs of his tangling with hers beneath the table and sending shivers of awareness through her.

  Down girl.

  Just because she hadn’t gotten laid in what seemed like forever wasn’t a good reason to go gaga over this or any guy. She could take care of business later, in the privacy of her apartment, with her battery-operated friend and some old fantasies of the man across from her now.

  Thankfully, if he noticed her reluctant interest in him, he didn’t show it. Instead, he was all about getting all up in the business of her story. “Tell me more about the Andronetto brothers. I had no idea that guy was Milo. I’ve never seen them before, just heard rumors about their possible connections to the mafia. So I’d pictured them in my head to be more Godfather-esque. That dude looks like a reject from a Grateful Dead concert.”

  “Right?!” She chuckled. The guy was witty, she’d give him that. That was probably one of the factors that accounted for his bestselling book. He’d done the research, exposed a deep-rooted criminal ring—but he was also a great storyteller who had kept readers around the country spellbound with his writing. Maybe keeping the line of communication with him open wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. He had to have contacts in New York, maybe L.A. too. She’d kill for a job reporting for a world news network. There was that little problem of the plagiarism rumors, but when she’d asked her brother about it before he’d left on his mission, Mike had sworn it wasn’t true. He’d said Simon would never do something like that and Alisha tended to believe him. The wheels in her head turned even more. Maybe if she helped Simon get his career back on track, he’d help her get the job of her dreams in New York. Oh yeah. That sounded like the best plan yet. But first, she had to entice him a little more.