Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (SEALS, Inc., Book 1)

Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll

CHAPTER FIVE

Max tapped Rachel's business card against the table as he waited for his team to arrive and wondered how the hell they were going to pull this off.

Manuel Diego was a crafty prick and when Uncle Sam called his SEALs team for help, Max knew the mission would be more than they bargained for.  Chasing terrorists was a bitch, especially one who had managed to evade capture.

It hadn't been his first choice to plant Hawke in his current role but he had to admit, so far so good. Hawke proved himself a dedicated soldier and better yet, a communications genius. They had yet to find a computer Hawke couldn't hack. Who in their right mind would've ever known he also possessed rock star quality? Traveling the world as a major rock star had definite benefits and Hawke had opened several doors in the investigation. In fact, it had been Hawke's undercover work that had brought them to Diablo, Arizona, hot on Diego's heels. And, until Hawke got up close and personal with Rachel Newberry he'd been confident.

Maybe Steele would be a better candidate for extracting information. Steele's combination of smooth talk and surfer-dude good looks pried information out of even the most stubborn bastard. He operated on the basic principle that even a criminal had his balls squeezed by the warm, promising grip of a woman, and Steele made it a point to find her first. Once he worked his magic, the criminal was putty in his hands. There was only problem with that scenario, Hawke would never agree.  And, in all reality, Max couldn't blame him. The mysterious Miss Newberry was one fine female specimen.

Max propped his scuffed combat boots on the table, folded his arms behind his head, and allowed his thoughts to drift back over the latest cast of characters in this mission. Most specifically, the stacked, blue-eyed blonde from the concert.

Normally he didn't give Hawke's groupies the time of day, but this one demanded his attention. His undivided attention. Compared to his six foot plus, she was tiny, just over five feet tall with an attitude twice her size, and his animal instincts roared to tame her.  Yet, something about her spelled wild. He winced when his cock jumped. Oh, hell no. He slammed the door on his thoughts, relieved when the three other soldiers entered the suite.

He glanced at Steele. "Well, any red flags?"

"Maybe."

Max eased to the front of the couch and waited for him to elaborate.

"Pacific Valley Heights is clean, however, Rachel Newberry is dodging shadows."

"How so?" Max rubbed his jaw.

"She hasn't been in Diablo long. She was employed by Bridgewater & Austin in New York City."

"Impressive firm."

"She left New York City in a hurry."

Max's gut clenched.  "Why?"

"Apparently, her architectural degree wasn't the only thing that impressed William Bridgewater. They were lovers for almost two years. When Bridgewater's wife caught on, all hell broke loose.  In the end, Bridgewater blamed the whole thing on Rachel and fired her. Rachel packed her bags and left town."

Max snorted. "That's it?"

Steele nodded. "So far. Cameron Tremaine is interesting, though."

"Tell me about it," Max muttered. "Has she done time?"

Steele snickered. "No, nothing like that. She doesn't have a criminal record. She has, however, had a stalker in the past."

"Who?"

"Ex-boyfriend. He is doing time. The arrest report is hilarious."

"How so?"

"The responding officer found him with a black eye, a bloody nose, and his hands tied behind him with nylon."