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Synopsis
Ellie Stuart's life ended the day her children were stolen from her. Driving on a Virginia backroad, Ellie was ambushed by two men who violently pulled her from her car and drove off with her three sons inside. Devastated, Ellie begs the police to bring her babies home. But the authorities wonder if this stressed-out single mom may not be telling the whole truth about what happened that day... Navy SEAL Sean Harlan agrees to help Ellie find her children, but vows to keep their relationship professional. He's got no room in his life for a woman and her kids--no matter how beautiful she is, or how desperate their situation. But when a sinister organization begins pulling strings behind the scenes, the investigation suddenly targets Sean. Can he and Ellie rescue her children and save themselves? Or are they already... TOO FAR GONE
Release date: November 1, 2008
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Print pages: 384
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Too Far Gone
Marliss Melton
RAVE REVIEWS FOR
MARLISS MELTON
AND HER NOVELS
DON’T LET GO
“4 Stars! Another winner in a top-notch series! . . . Four different plot threads are delicately woven together, each resonating with emotional overtones of loss and rebirth.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“An exhilarating thriller . . . Readers will enjoy this fine family drama as Ms. Melton provides a strong tale.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A rich read . . . multilayered characters . . . I recommend you find Don’t Let Go . . . you’ll be glad you did.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Melton delivers another suspenseful tale that you will never forget.”
—BookCoveReviews.com
NEXT TO DIE
“A romance that sizzles.”
—Publishers Weekly
“There is a lot of action and suspense . . . a work that is as exciting as it is heartwarmingly riveting.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A fast and fulfilling read . . . filled with emotion and suspense. The characters are finely drawn and the plot well crafted.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Riveting suspense.”
—OnceUponARomance.com
“Fast-paced thrill and challenging romances make this a winning story.”
—HuntressReviews.com
“Melton brings her considerable knowledge about the military and intelligence world to this Navy SEAL series. You’ll enjoy this peek into the world—and love the romance that develops between Joe and Penny.”
—FreshFiction.com
“Another pleasing chapter in Melton’s highly addictive Navy SEALs series . . . Joe and Penny are both very appealing characters and their romance is rich and involving.”
—BookLoons.com
TIME TO RUN
“Melton . . . doesn’t miss a beat in this involving story.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Melton’s compelling protagonists propel the gritty and realistic storytelling . . . Excellent!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“This book will twist all of your heartstrings . . . you won’t be able to put Time to Run down . . . a must-read.”
—FreshFiction.com
“Exceedingly riveting . . . enthralling . . . you’ll find your- self racing through it from one exciting scene to the next . . . my favorite.”
—RomRevToday.com
“An exciting tale starring a fine lead couple . . . fans will enjoy this wonderful thriller.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Exciting and emotionally moving . . . gripping.”
—Bookloons Reviews
“Edgy contemporary romantic suspense . . . emotional fireworks as well as some fancy sniper shooting.”
—Booklist
IN THE DARK
“Fantastic . . . keeps you riveted . . . will keep you guessing . . . Well done!”
—OnceUponARomance.net
“A strong thriller . . . Action-packed . . . will keep the audience on the edge of their seats.”
—Blether.com
“Hooked me from the first page . . . filled with romance, suspense, and characters who will pull you in and never let you go.”
—Lisa Jackson, New York Times bestselling author of Absolute Fear
“Packed with action from the first page to the last . . . a must.”
—Novel Talk
“[A] hard-charging romantic thriller as warm and heady as a Caribbean sun-soaked bay.”
—Bookpage
“Picking up where Forget Me Not left off . . . danger, passion, and adventure.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
FORGET ME NOT
“Refreshing . . . fine writing, likable characters, and realistic emotions.”
—Publishers Weekly
“An intriguing romantic suspense . . . Readers will take great delight.”
—Midwest Book Review
“The gifted Melton does an excellent job building emotion, danger, and tension in her transfixing novel.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“Entertaining . . . moving and passionate . . . with plenty of action and suspense . . . Forget Me Not is a winner; don’t miss it.”
—RomRevToday.com
“A wonderful book, touching at all the right heartstrings. I highly recommend it!”
—Heather Graham, author of Dead on the Dance Floor
“Amazing . . . fantastic . . . a riveting plot, engaging characters, and unforgettable love story . . . not to be missed.”
—NewandUsedBooks.com
“A thrilling romance.”
—TheBestReviews.com
“Riveting . . . you’ll definitely want to pick this one up.”
—RomanceJunkies.com
“Wonderful, thrilling . . . loved it!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
Prologue
Carl Stuart thrust his way out of the smoky, port-side bar a good sight more sober than he wanted to be. He had no more money to spend on liquor, not a dime. The sultry Savannah air closed around him like the warm swamp waters of his Mississippi home, except that the air in this touristy town was filled with succulent odors emanating from the many restaurants on River Street. The laughter of visitors seemed to mock him as he shrugged around them and skulked along the ballast-paved streets of the historic waterfront.
Heading toward the shadows of the east end, he entertained the fantasy of falling into the glinting river tonight to end his sorry-ass life.
He’d come all this way for nothing. The construction job that had enticed him to Georgia had proven too arduous. The foreman hadn’t cut him any slack and had finally plain-out fired him. And just this morning, Tammy’d booted him out of their apartment, calling him a good-for-nothing. He hated being called that. That’s what Ellie used to say.
Carl had nursed those words all day, growing increasingly belligerent. Tonight he’d haunted several bars, hoping to join in a bar fight, one bloody and painful enough to take his mind off his woes, but no one else was in a fighting mood, apparently.
The soles of his dingy shoes struck the stone street with a hollow sound. Like the saying went, Life’s a bitch and then you die. He could’ve been somebody, if only . . .
He walked with his head down, tantalizing himself with images of nothingness—the relief that would come once the warm waters claimed him.
A woman’s sudden cry startled him, forcing his head up. “Help!” she wailed, gesticulating. “That man took my purse!”
Carl’s gaze flew to the shadowy figure fleeing away from her, heading toward stone steps that led up to Bay Street, forty-two feet above the riverfront. With a grim smile, Carl answered the call, glad for an excuse to exorcise his rage.
“Thank you!” cried the handsome woman as he tore past her.
The youth with the purse threw a startled look behind him. He staggered up the stairs, clumsy in his haste, tripping over his feet and rising up again. He was no match for Carl, who’d been an all-star quarterback in high school, back before Ellie had stolen his future. That had been over a decade ago, but Carl was still quick and agile, capable of tackling a man to the ground and delivering a good ass-whooping when he had a mind to.
Tonight he wanted to really hurt somebody. With a roar that chilled his own blood, he tackled the boy’s ankles and brought him down hard. He scrambled up and over him, only to rear back when a blade flashed in the youth’s hand. With a swipe of his arm, Carl knocked the knife free. As it clattered down the steps, he clenched his fist and plowed it into the youth’s jaw.
Crunch! The grip on the purse went slack; still, Carl rained down punishment, pummeling the boy’s face until it bled. Then he snatched up his prize and looked down at the woman.
She stood at the base of the steps, her jewelry glittering under the flame of the ancient navigational beacon overhead. The purse in Carl’s hands felt heavy, fat with money and credit cards. It was his for the taking. All he had to do was step over his bloody victim and flee up the rest of the stairs.
Temptation nipped at him. But by now the lone woman had gathered a gaggle of well-groomed friends about her, all of whom peered up at him expectantly. Shit.
With a shudder of disappointment, Carl hefted the purse and carried it heavily down the steps. The woman rushed up to him, eyes shining with gratitude. “Oh, thank you so much!” she gushed, reaching to take her purse back.
Aware that her friends were hovering protectively, Carl grudgingly parted with it. A sullen, angry feeling filled his heart. Life was so fucking unfair.
Turning back to her friends, the woman waltzed off with them, clearly in high spirits. As they left him standing there bereft, he overheard her offer to buy them a round so they could celebrate her good fortune.
“Ungrateful bitch,” Carl muttered, glancing down at his bloodied knuckles.
Within the spotless interior of a Bentley Arnage parked nearby, Owen Dulay turned his head to catch his lawyer’s speculative eye.
“He did the right thing,” remarked Lynwood Spenser with surprise.
“I thought he might,” countered Owen with mixed relief and satisfaction.
“Though he needn’t have bludgeoned that boy half to death,” Lynwood pointed out.
“The boy will be compensated. What matters is that he gave the woman what was hers,” Owen insisted. “He has the heart of a Centurion.” At least, that was what he’d been hoping to convince himself.
“That’s not what the foreman on the job site says,” muttered the lawyer.
Owen flashed him an impatient glare. “He’s all I’ve got, Lynwood. You know the law.”
“I advise you to consider a trial period,” the lawyer suggested, “before making such a critical decision.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Owen assured him. “I will mold him into the man he needs to be.”
As Lynwood Spenser heaved a skeptical sigh, Owen Dulay stepped out of his vehicle to issue Carl Stuart an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Chapter One
With the rain coming down in sheets outside her minuscule rancher and with her two older sons chasing each other wildly through the rooms, Ellie Stuart was on the verge of pulling her hair out. “Boys!” she snapped, glaring up from the biology book in her lap. “I’ve had enough. Go to your room this instant and find a game to play or a book to read!”
“I don’t have nothin’ new to read, Mama,” protested ten-year-old Christopher.
“I hate readin’!” Caleb, his younger brother, declared.
Ellie set her book aside and rose ominously from the couch. “Then we’ll just have to practice math,” she threatened, skirting the baby who crawled into her path. Caleb’s performance in second-grade math was a matter of great concern to his teacher and, of course, to Ellie, who never found enough time to help him.
Sacrificing her own studies, she snatched up the practice cards she had bought at Wal-Mart and ordered him to sit on the couch. He thumped down on the sofa with a rubber ball in hand, knocking her textbook to the floor.
“Careful!” Ellie scolded, hating the note of frustration in her voice. Being a single mother was the toughest job a woman could have, short of living in a dingy trailer by a swamp in Mississippi with a no-good, lying, cheating, loser of a husband named Carl.
“Chris,” she requested of her ten-year-old, “kindly take the baby to your bedroom.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Chris with a sigh.
Positioning herself in front of Caleb, Ellie readied the cards in her hand and began to drill him. “Twelve,” she corrected him when he got the answer wrong. “We just did that one, remember?” It was hard to tell if Caleb had a problem remembering or if he was being intentionally obtuse. Either way, she stood on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
The vision of a white Chevy truck pulling into her driveway startled an exclamation out of her. Well, look who was back from God-knew-where.
Caleb shot to his knees to see what she was looking at. “Yay!” he shouted. “Mr. Sean’s back!”
“Stay put!” Ellie ordered when he made to jump off the sofa.
As Sean darted from his truck to her front stoop with a plastic sack in one hand, Ellie went to open the door, aware that her heart had started racing.
Chief Petty Officer Sean Harlan was her landlord. The day she’d met him ten months ago, she’d realized he was dangerous—not because he was a SEAL and a sniper, but because of his charm. He was bald and muscular, with twinkling blue eyes and a killer smile. She had recognized him then for exactly what he was: a ladies’ man, with no more staying power than a butterfly on a lilac bush.
When Ellie and her boys were new to Virginia Beach, keeping clear of Sean hadn’t been easy. He’d hung around her little rental house, one of several he owned and leased, putting on the finishing touches. He’d built a sandbox in the backyard for her boys and brought them bicycles. But then, for the last six months, he’d been overseas, and life had settled down into a grinding but stable routine.
She’d forgotten how unsettling his presence could be.
“Hi.” With that killer grin and rainwater clinging to his eyelashes, his sex appeal rolled over her like hot oil, completely visceral yet utterly undesired. “Are the boys here?” His eyes seemed even bluer, set against a suntanned face.
Lord have mercy. “Of course,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “Come in.” She stepped back, and he eased past her, causing the walls of the little house to shrink inward. His shoulders seemed broader than ever, his bare calves below the khaki shorts sleek and powerful. The faint scent of citrus always seemed to cling to him. She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat.
“Mr. Sean!” Caleb launched himself off the couch to tackle him at the waist.
With a mock roar, Sean collapsed onto the couch and pulled him into a bear hug.
“You’re back!” exclaimed Christopher, hurrying out of the hallway with the baby to grin down at them.
Sean shot to his feet, rubbed his knuckles over Chris’s head, and took the eleven-month-old baby from his arms. “Holy smokes, little guy,” he exclaimed, dangling him up at eye level. “Watcha been eatin’?”
Colton grinned, showing off his four front teeth.
“Pretty much everything he can get his hands on,” Ellie explained.
“Oh, yeah?” he said. As he glanced over at her, his gaze dropped briefly to her breasts.
Her nipples tingled as if he’d actually caressed them. “Caleb was practicing his math facts,” she informed him, holding up the cards as evidence.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, not sounding at all contrite. “I brought you guys a present.” He lifted the bag looped over his arm.
“What is it?” Caleb’s face lit up with excitement.
Santa Claus is back, Ellie thought with a roll of her eyes.
As Sean handed her the baby, the heat of his strong fingers seemed to scorch her. He glanced at her sharply as if surprised by the awareness sparking between them. Delving into the bag, he pulled out a tin cylinder and gave it to the boys. Caleb and Christopher tore into it, falling to their knees. “It’s a magnet set. Cool!” Chris exclaimed.
Sean smiled down at their blond heads. “Got it at the airport. This is for the little guy,” he said, pulling out a stuffed monkey and handing it to Colton. The baby grasped it, staring with amazement into the monkey’s plastic eyes.
“Thank you,” murmured Ellie. “You don’t need to bring them gifts, you know. They’re just happy to have you back.”
He gave her a long, searching look. “What about you?” he demanded unexpectedly.
The soft challenge drove the breath from her lungs. “I wouldn’t have a home without you,” she retorted, aware that her legs were trembling. What was wrong with her? He was gone just six months, yet her body seemed to come alive in his presence. He probably had that effect on all women, young and old alike.
Ellie tucked a strand of golden brown hair behind her ear. The soft, curly texture heightened her awareness of her femininity. What was she thinking, allowing hormones to rule her thoughts? Men were trouble, and her friends had warned her about Sean—first Solomon in his terse, no-nonsense way and then his wife, Jordan, who just came right out and told her to ignore Sean if he flirted. Even her neighbor Belinda had made some comments about Sean being a love-’em-and-leave-’em type if ever there was one. Having been bitten by one man, you’d think she had the sense to be twice shy.
“So, listen,” said Sean, sounding a little uncertain of himself, “do you think I could take the bigger boys right now to Fun Zone?”
Caleb jerked his gaze up from the magnet set. “Fun Zone!” he cried.
Chris’s gray eyes swiveled up at her. “Can we go, Mama? Please?”
Ellie heaved an exasperated sigh. “Caleb has to practice his math facts,” she reminded Sean.
“No problem,” he said, glancing at the cards in her hand. “Addition is our mission. By the time I bring ’em home, Caleb will know how to add anything up to . . . ?”
“Twenty,” Caleb supplied, surprisingly astute.
Ellie raised a dubious eyebrow. “How are you going to teach him that at Fun Zone?” she demanded, picturing the boys and Sean clambering through tubes and coasting down slides. She almost wished she could go, too.
“Now, Miz Ellie.” Sean sent her a long-suffering look, but the way he drawled her name in his resonant baritone made her insides quiver. “Not all boys learn math like you girly girls with books and cards and all. We learn by doing, ain’t that right?” He glanced at Caleb for corroboration.
“Yep.”
“I can learn by reading,” Christopher piped up with a worried look.
“That’s ’cause you’re smart,” Sean countered, “like your mama.”
Ellie’s insides quivered again.
“Chris is a girly boy,” Caleb taunted.
Sean cut him a frown, and Caleb’s mouth snapped shut.
He sure has a way with them, Ellie thought. She wondered if he was going to let them down the way their daddy had. Sean’s absence these past months had been hard enough, only it hadn’t been his decision to leave. He’d had a job to do.
“So, can we go?” he asked. He seemed more antsy than usual, but then his muscles had always thrummed with an energy level she could only envy.
“I don’t have any money,” she stalled, angling her chin higher.
“No problem. I’ve got free tickets.” He patted his back pocket. “MWR was giving them away.”
MWR had to be some kind of perk for the military. Ellie threw her hands up. “Go ahead. It’s not like I can tell them no now.” Besides, she could use the reprieve to study for her upcoming finals.
Sean grinned at the boys. “Come on, fellas. Put your shoes on.”
“Yay!” As they dashed off in search of their shoes, Ellie played with Colton and his monkey. She could sense Sean’s gaze focusing intently on them both.
“I should have gotten you something, too,” he said with an apologetic grimace.
She looked up at him, surprised. “No, you shouldn’t,” she retorted definitively.
“You deserve something,” he argued. “When’s the last time someone gave you something?”
“’Bout nine months ago,” she answered honestly, “when you gave me this house to rent and kept me and my boys from living in my car on the streets.”
“Ellie.” He inhaled, expanding his already immense chest, and shook his head. “You have no idea—”
“Mama, where are my new shoes?” Caleb’s cry from the back of the house cut him off. Ellie hurried to help him, both frightened and excited by whatever Sean was going to say.
“They’re right here, honey,” she said, kicking them out from under his bed.
Jamming his feet into his sneakers, Caleb ran for the door. “Okay, I’m ready,” he declared. Chris followed right behind him.
“I’ll have them home by suppertime,” Sean promised. He sent both boys ahead of him with, “Run! The truck’s unlocked.”
He and Ellie remained in the cramped hallway. Ellie clutched Colton to her chest like a shield, her heart beating irregularly. “I hope you get some studying done,” Sean said gruffly, proving he hadn’t overlooked her textbook on the floor. “You should be proud of yourself,” he added, “going back to school and all.”
She’d received so few scraps of encouragement in her life that his words seemed to lift her right off the floor. Was that what he’d been about to tell her earlier? “Just doing what I have to do,” she murmured with a pinch of disappointment.
“Well. See you,” he said, and with a wink and a smile, he was gone.
She watched him jog through the rain to his truck, where the boys tussled inside, fogging up the windows.
His beat-up Chevy shot out of her driveway backward, reversed direction, and disappeared. The house seemed suddenly too quiet. She wished she’d been invited to go along with them. Sean’s presence was like a sunbeam on a cloudy day.
You fool, scolded a voice in her head. Not every itch needs scratching. Her attraction to Sean would only distract her from the goals she’d set for herself: to get a degree in nursing with the aim of becoming a certified midwife. Mooning over a man would get her nowhere. Hadn’t she learned that lesson from marrying Carl?
Putting her weight against the door, Ellie tried to ignore the throb of desire that left her feeling needy and unfulfilled. She was a woman, after all, in the prime of her life. She wasn’t a naïve sixteen-year-old anymore, stupid enough to think the all-star, high school quarterback was her salvation from years of foster care. Oh, no. She was her own woman now. And an affair with Sean Harlan spelled nothing but disaster for her and her boys.
“Daddy, you wanted to see me?” Skyler Dulay slipped through her father’s office door and shut it quietly behind her.
She caught him putting the key that opened his file cabinet back in the box he kept hidden in the back of his drawer. Over the years, she’d realized that was where he hid it. He did so now with precise and methodical movements, sending her a smile that failed to reach his dark, enigmatic eyes. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked off the seconds, and Skyler’s anxiety escalated.
Her father slowly stood. At well over six feet and always impeccably dressed, he cut an intimidating figure. She scarcely breathed as he rounded his desk. “Yes, I have a matter to discuss before you leave for the shelter today,” he imparted in his deceptively gentle, Southern drawl.
She glanced at the clock, her heart thudding heavily. News that was shared in her father’s study was never welcoming. “I’m already late,” she pointed out.
“This won’t wait,” he said, coming to stand before her, his smile now gone. He put out his hands, palms up, indicating she should lay her hands over his. She did so and was, as usual, overcome by a sudden sense of helplessness. At twenty-three, she still felt like a child.
“As the daughter of a Centurion, I’m sure you understand your obligations,” he began with an omnipotent glint in his murky eyes.
Skyler’s insides cramped. “Of course,” she murmured, terrified of what might come next.
“You’ve known for years that you would marry Ashton Jameson. He and I have decided to move up the wedding date.”
Skyler’s heart seemed to stop, then start up at an erratic pace. “Up to when?” she asked as the blood rushed from her cheeks.
“The end of this month,” he replied. His dark watchful eyes dared her to defy him.
“But, why?” she protested. “I have Mama to look after.”
His grip tightened. “You are not a son,” he said, reminding her of the Centurion laws forbidding daughters to inherit. “Without my wealth, you have nothing.”
Wrenching her hands from his, she walked to the window to hide her dismay. Below her, Carl, their gardener, snipped back the shriveled stalks of dead lilies, his lanky hair falling over his eyes. “I don’t want your wealth,” she dared to admit, clutching the heavy silk drape in one hand.
With a harsh grip, her father dragged her around. “Rubbish,” he declared. “You’ve no idea what it means to go without.”
“I work at a homeless shelter,” she reminded him, her cheeks flaming with indignation.
“And you come home to a mansion with servants,” he articulated with a nasty smile.
“Jameson is fifty years old!” Skyler cried, coming to the heart of her protest.
“Exactly,” hissed her father. “And one day, not too long from now, he’ll die, leaving you a wealthy widow, still young enough to pursue your silly little dreams.”
Chilled by his prediction and offended that he had belittled her aspirations, Skyler dug her nails into her palms for courage. “I am a grown woman,” she insisted, though her voice quavered. “I should get to choose who I’m going to marry.”
The look that crossed her father’s face struck fear in her heart. “Tonight, Jameson is giving you a ring,” he warned, scarcely above a whisper. Dismay smothered Skyler’s brief rebellion. “If you even think of refusing him, I’ll put you where you should have been all these years.”
A shudder wracked Skyler’s slender frame. He held her fate, her terrible secret, like a trump card in the palm of his hand. “Now, have a good day,” he added, releasing her with a genteel nod and a steely smile.
Feeling as though the breath had been knocked from her lungs, Skyler fled to the door and pushed through it, careful not to let it slam. Her father abhorred unseemly displays.
At just past midnight, Sean swung into Ellie’s driveway, wary of the message that had summoned him here. Sure enough, every light in the house was out, just like her voice mail, left on his cell an hour ago, had advised him.
Nothing’s working—not the switches or the outlets. There must be a problem with the main breaker in the electric box, she’d surmised in her husky drawl.
He loved the way she talked, liquefying short little words into long, molasses-smooth ones. He’d wondered, though, if she was telling the truth. Or was her call just a ploy to get him to drop by, late at night when the boys were sleeping? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman tenant with ulterior motives had summoned him.
The possibility that Ellie had something like that in mind heated his blood.
Candlelight flickered faintly behind her drawn blinds. With a tingle of excitement and an equally strong dose of wariness, Sean knocked lightly on her door.
The snap of a twig out back and the barest whisper of a footfall made him step back and listen. What was that?
But then the door eased open, and suddenly all of his attention was caught up in the vision of Ellie in a soft, worn nightgown with ragged lace at the neckline. His suspicions spiraled straight to his groin. Why else would she greet him in her nightie if not to lure him to her bed? But she was clutching a candle before her, holding it up like a weapon. Maybe sex wasn’t the . . .
MARLISS MELTON
AND HER NOVELS
DON’T LET GO
“4 Stars! Another winner in a top-notch series! . . . Four different plot threads are delicately woven together, each resonating with emotional overtones of loss and rebirth.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“An exhilarating thriller . . . Readers will enjoy this fine family drama as Ms. Melton provides a strong tale.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A rich read . . . multilayered characters . . . I recommend you find Don’t Let Go . . . you’ll be glad you did.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Melton delivers another suspenseful tale that you will never forget.”
—BookCoveReviews.com
NEXT TO DIE
“A romance that sizzles.”
—Publishers Weekly
“There is a lot of action and suspense . . . a work that is as exciting as it is heartwarmingly riveting.”
—Midwest Book Review
“A fast and fulfilling read . . . filled with emotion and suspense. The characters are finely drawn and the plot well crafted.”
—RomRevToday.com
“Riveting suspense.”
—OnceUponARomance.com
“Fast-paced thrill and challenging romances make this a winning story.”
—HuntressReviews.com
“Melton brings her considerable knowledge about the military and intelligence world to this Navy SEAL series. You’ll enjoy this peek into the world—and love the romance that develops between Joe and Penny.”
—FreshFiction.com
“Another pleasing chapter in Melton’s highly addictive Navy SEALs series . . . Joe and Penny are both very appealing characters and their romance is rich and involving.”
—BookLoons.com
TIME TO RUN
“Melton . . . doesn’t miss a beat in this involving story.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Melton’s compelling protagonists propel the gritty and realistic storytelling . . . Excellent!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“This book will twist all of your heartstrings . . . you won’t be able to put Time to Run down . . . a must-read.”
—FreshFiction.com
“Exceedingly riveting . . . enthralling . . . you’ll find your- self racing through it from one exciting scene to the next . . . my favorite.”
—RomRevToday.com
“An exciting tale starring a fine lead couple . . . fans will enjoy this wonderful thriller.”
—Midwest Book Review
“Exciting and emotionally moving . . . gripping.”
—Bookloons Reviews
“Edgy contemporary romantic suspense . . . emotional fireworks as well as some fancy sniper shooting.”
—Booklist
IN THE DARK
“Fantastic . . . keeps you riveted . . . will keep you guessing . . . Well done!”
—OnceUponARomance.net
“A strong thriller . . . Action-packed . . . will keep the audience on the edge of their seats.”
—Blether.com
“Hooked me from the first page . . . filled with romance, suspense, and characters who will pull you in and never let you go.”
—Lisa Jackson, New York Times bestselling author of Absolute Fear
“Packed with action from the first page to the last . . . a must.”
—Novel Talk
“[A] hard-charging romantic thriller as warm and heady as a Caribbean sun-soaked bay.”
—Bookpage
“Picking up where Forget Me Not left off . . . danger, passion, and adventure.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
FORGET ME NOT
“Refreshing . . . fine writing, likable characters, and realistic emotions.”
—Publishers Weekly
“An intriguing romantic suspense . . . Readers will take great delight.”
—Midwest Book Review
“The gifted Melton does an excellent job building emotion, danger, and tension in her transfixing novel.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“Entertaining . . . moving and passionate . . . with plenty of action and suspense . . . Forget Me Not is a winner; don’t miss it.”
—RomRevToday.com
“A wonderful book, touching at all the right heartstrings. I highly recommend it!”
—Heather Graham, author of Dead on the Dance Floor
“Amazing . . . fantastic . . . a riveting plot, engaging characters, and unforgettable love story . . . not to be missed.”
—NewandUsedBooks.com
“A thrilling romance.”
—TheBestReviews.com
“Riveting . . . you’ll definitely want to pick this one up.”
—RomanceJunkies.com
“Wonderful, thrilling . . . loved it!”
—RomanceReviewsMag.com
Prologue
Carl Stuart thrust his way out of the smoky, port-side bar a good sight more sober than he wanted to be. He had no more money to spend on liquor, not a dime. The sultry Savannah air closed around him like the warm swamp waters of his Mississippi home, except that the air in this touristy town was filled with succulent odors emanating from the many restaurants on River Street. The laughter of visitors seemed to mock him as he shrugged around them and skulked along the ballast-paved streets of the historic waterfront.
Heading toward the shadows of the east end, he entertained the fantasy of falling into the glinting river tonight to end his sorry-ass life.
He’d come all this way for nothing. The construction job that had enticed him to Georgia had proven too arduous. The foreman hadn’t cut him any slack and had finally plain-out fired him. And just this morning, Tammy’d booted him out of their apartment, calling him a good-for-nothing. He hated being called that. That’s what Ellie used to say.
Carl had nursed those words all day, growing increasingly belligerent. Tonight he’d haunted several bars, hoping to join in a bar fight, one bloody and painful enough to take his mind off his woes, but no one else was in a fighting mood, apparently.
The soles of his dingy shoes struck the stone street with a hollow sound. Like the saying went, Life’s a bitch and then you die. He could’ve been somebody, if only . . .
He walked with his head down, tantalizing himself with images of nothingness—the relief that would come once the warm waters claimed him.
A woman’s sudden cry startled him, forcing his head up. “Help!” she wailed, gesticulating. “That man took my purse!”
Carl’s gaze flew to the shadowy figure fleeing away from her, heading toward stone steps that led up to Bay Street, forty-two feet above the riverfront. With a grim smile, Carl answered the call, glad for an excuse to exorcise his rage.
“Thank you!” cried the handsome woman as he tore past her.
The youth with the purse threw a startled look behind him. He staggered up the stairs, clumsy in his haste, tripping over his feet and rising up again. He was no match for Carl, who’d been an all-star quarterback in high school, back before Ellie had stolen his future. That had been over a decade ago, but Carl was still quick and agile, capable of tackling a man to the ground and delivering a good ass-whooping when he had a mind to.
Tonight he wanted to really hurt somebody. With a roar that chilled his own blood, he tackled the boy’s ankles and brought him down hard. He scrambled up and over him, only to rear back when a blade flashed in the youth’s hand. With a swipe of his arm, Carl knocked the knife free. As it clattered down the steps, he clenched his fist and plowed it into the youth’s jaw.
Crunch! The grip on the purse went slack; still, Carl rained down punishment, pummeling the boy’s face until it bled. Then he snatched up his prize and looked down at the woman.
She stood at the base of the steps, her jewelry glittering under the flame of the ancient navigational beacon overhead. The purse in Carl’s hands felt heavy, fat with money and credit cards. It was his for the taking. All he had to do was step over his bloody victim and flee up the rest of the stairs.
Temptation nipped at him. But by now the lone woman had gathered a gaggle of well-groomed friends about her, all of whom peered up at him expectantly. Shit.
With a shudder of disappointment, Carl hefted the purse and carried it heavily down the steps. The woman rushed up to him, eyes shining with gratitude. “Oh, thank you so much!” she gushed, reaching to take her purse back.
Aware that her friends were hovering protectively, Carl grudgingly parted with it. A sullen, angry feeling filled his heart. Life was so fucking unfair.
Turning back to her friends, the woman waltzed off with them, clearly in high spirits. As they left him standing there bereft, he overheard her offer to buy them a round so they could celebrate her good fortune.
“Ungrateful bitch,” Carl muttered, glancing down at his bloodied knuckles.
Within the spotless interior of a Bentley Arnage parked nearby, Owen Dulay turned his head to catch his lawyer’s speculative eye.
“He did the right thing,” remarked Lynwood Spenser with surprise.
“I thought he might,” countered Owen with mixed relief and satisfaction.
“Though he needn’t have bludgeoned that boy half to death,” Lynwood pointed out.
“The boy will be compensated. What matters is that he gave the woman what was hers,” Owen insisted. “He has the heart of a Centurion.” At least, that was what he’d been hoping to convince himself.
“That’s not what the foreman on the job site says,” muttered the lawyer.
Owen flashed him an impatient glare. “He’s all I’ve got, Lynwood. You know the law.”
“I advise you to consider a trial period,” the lawyer suggested, “before making such a critical decision.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Owen assured him. “I will mold him into the man he needs to be.”
As Lynwood Spenser heaved a skeptical sigh, Owen Dulay stepped out of his vehicle to issue Carl Stuart an offer he couldn’t refuse.
Chapter One
With the rain coming down in sheets outside her minuscule rancher and with her two older sons chasing each other wildly through the rooms, Ellie Stuart was on the verge of pulling her hair out. “Boys!” she snapped, glaring up from the biology book in her lap. “I’ve had enough. Go to your room this instant and find a game to play or a book to read!”
“I don’t have nothin’ new to read, Mama,” protested ten-year-old Christopher.
“I hate readin’!” Caleb, his younger brother, declared.
Ellie set her book aside and rose ominously from the couch. “Then we’ll just have to practice math,” she threatened, skirting the baby who crawled into her path. Caleb’s performance in second-grade math was a matter of great concern to his teacher and, of course, to Ellie, who never found enough time to help him.
Sacrificing her own studies, she snatched up the practice cards she had bought at Wal-Mart and ordered him to sit on the couch. He thumped down on the sofa with a rubber ball in hand, knocking her textbook to the floor.
“Careful!” Ellie scolded, hating the note of frustration in her voice. Being a single mother was the toughest job a woman could have, short of living in a dingy trailer by a swamp in Mississippi with a no-good, lying, cheating, loser of a husband named Carl.
“Chris,” she requested of her ten-year-old, “kindly take the baby to your bedroom.”
“Yes, Mama,” said Chris with a sigh.
Positioning herself in front of Caleb, Ellie readied the cards in her hand and began to drill him. “Twelve,” she corrected him when he got the answer wrong. “We just did that one, remember?” It was hard to tell if Caleb had a problem remembering or if he was being intentionally obtuse. Either way, she stood on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
The vision of a white Chevy truck pulling into her driveway startled an exclamation out of her. Well, look who was back from God-knew-where.
Caleb shot to his knees to see what she was looking at. “Yay!” he shouted. “Mr. Sean’s back!”
“Stay put!” Ellie ordered when he made to jump off the sofa.
As Sean darted from his truck to her front stoop with a plastic sack in one hand, Ellie went to open the door, aware that her heart had started racing.
Chief Petty Officer Sean Harlan was her landlord. The day she’d met him ten months ago, she’d realized he was dangerous—not because he was a SEAL and a sniper, but because of his charm. He was bald and muscular, with twinkling blue eyes and a killer smile. She had recognized him then for exactly what he was: a ladies’ man, with no more staying power than a butterfly on a lilac bush.
When Ellie and her boys were new to Virginia Beach, keeping clear of Sean hadn’t been easy. He’d hung around her little rental house, one of several he owned and leased, putting on the finishing touches. He’d built a sandbox in the backyard for her boys and brought them bicycles. But then, for the last six months, he’d been overseas, and life had settled down into a grinding but stable routine.
She’d forgotten how unsettling his presence could be.
“Hi.” With that killer grin and rainwater clinging to his eyelashes, his sex appeal rolled over her like hot oil, completely visceral yet utterly undesired. “Are the boys here?” His eyes seemed even bluer, set against a suntanned face.
Lord have mercy. “Of course,” she said, her voice huskier than usual. “Come in.” She stepped back, and he eased past her, causing the walls of the little house to shrink inward. His shoulders seemed broader than ever, his bare calves below the khaki shorts sleek and powerful. The faint scent of citrus always seemed to cling to him. She swallowed against a suddenly dry throat.
“Mr. Sean!” Caleb launched himself off the couch to tackle him at the waist.
With a mock roar, Sean collapsed onto the couch and pulled him into a bear hug.
“You’re back!” exclaimed Christopher, hurrying out of the hallway with the baby to grin down at them.
Sean shot to his feet, rubbed his knuckles over Chris’s head, and took the eleven-month-old baby from his arms. “Holy smokes, little guy,” he exclaimed, dangling him up at eye level. “Watcha been eatin’?”
Colton grinned, showing off his four front teeth.
“Pretty much everything he can get his hands on,” Ellie explained.
“Oh, yeah?” he said. As he glanced over at her, his gaze dropped briefly to her breasts.
Her nipples tingled as if he’d actually caressed them. “Caleb was practicing his math facts,” she informed him, holding up the cards as evidence.
“Oh, sorry,” he said, not sounding at all contrite. “I brought you guys a present.” He lifted the bag looped over his arm.
“What is it?” Caleb’s face lit up with excitement.
Santa Claus is back, Ellie thought with a roll of her eyes.
As Sean handed her the baby, the heat of his strong fingers seemed to scorch her. He glanced at her sharply as if surprised by the awareness sparking between them. Delving into the bag, he pulled out a tin cylinder and gave it to the boys. Caleb and Christopher tore into it, falling to their knees. “It’s a magnet set. Cool!” Chris exclaimed.
Sean smiled down at their blond heads. “Got it at the airport. This is for the little guy,” he said, pulling out a stuffed monkey and handing it to Colton. The baby grasped it, staring with amazement into the monkey’s plastic eyes.
“Thank you,” murmured Ellie. “You don’t need to bring them gifts, you know. They’re just happy to have you back.”
He gave her a long, searching look. “What about you?” he demanded unexpectedly.
The soft challenge drove the breath from her lungs. “I wouldn’t have a home without you,” she retorted, aware that her legs were trembling. What was wrong with her? He was gone just six months, yet her body seemed to come alive in his presence. He probably had that effect on all women, young and old alike.
Ellie tucked a strand of golden brown hair behind her ear. The soft, curly texture heightened her awareness of her femininity. What was she thinking, allowing hormones to rule her thoughts? Men were trouble, and her friends had warned her about Sean—first Solomon in his terse, no-nonsense way and then his wife, Jordan, who just came right out and told her to ignore Sean if he flirted. Even her neighbor Belinda had made some comments about Sean being a love-’em-and-leave-’em type if ever there was one. Having been bitten by one man, you’d think she had the sense to be twice shy.
“So, listen,” said Sean, sounding a little uncertain of himself, “do you think I could take the bigger boys right now to Fun Zone?”
Caleb jerked his gaze up from the magnet set. “Fun Zone!” he cried.
Chris’s gray eyes swiveled up at her. “Can we go, Mama? Please?”
Ellie heaved an exasperated sigh. “Caleb has to practice his math facts,” she reminded Sean.
“No problem,” he said, glancing at the cards in her hand. “Addition is our mission. By the time I bring ’em home, Caleb will know how to add anything up to . . . ?”
“Twenty,” Caleb supplied, surprisingly astute.
Ellie raised a dubious eyebrow. “How are you going to teach him that at Fun Zone?” she demanded, picturing the boys and Sean clambering through tubes and coasting down slides. She almost wished she could go, too.
“Now, Miz Ellie.” Sean sent her a long-suffering look, but the way he drawled her name in his resonant baritone made her insides quiver. “Not all boys learn math like you girly girls with books and cards and all. We learn by doing, ain’t that right?” He glanced at Caleb for corroboration.
“Yep.”
“I can learn by reading,” Christopher piped up with a worried look.
“That’s ’cause you’re smart,” Sean countered, “like your mama.”
Ellie’s insides quivered again.
“Chris is a girly boy,” Caleb taunted.
Sean cut him a frown, and Caleb’s mouth snapped shut.
He sure has a way with them, Ellie thought. She wondered if he was going to let them down the way their daddy had. Sean’s absence these past months had been hard enough, only it hadn’t been his decision to leave. He’d had a job to do.
“So, can we go?” he asked. He seemed more antsy than usual, but then his muscles had always thrummed with an energy level she could only envy.
“I don’t have any money,” she stalled, angling her chin higher.
“No problem. I’ve got free tickets.” He patted his back pocket. “MWR was giving them away.”
MWR had to be some kind of perk for the military. Ellie threw her hands up. “Go ahead. It’s not like I can tell them no now.” Besides, she could use the reprieve to study for her upcoming finals.
Sean grinned at the boys. “Come on, fellas. Put your shoes on.”
“Yay!” As they dashed off in search of their shoes, Ellie played with Colton and his monkey. She could sense Sean’s gaze focusing intently on them both.
“I should have gotten you something, too,” he said with an apologetic grimace.
She looked up at him, surprised. “No, you shouldn’t,” she retorted definitively.
“You deserve something,” he argued. “When’s the last time someone gave you something?”
“’Bout nine months ago,” she answered honestly, “when you gave me this house to rent and kept me and my boys from living in my car on the streets.”
“Ellie.” He inhaled, expanding his already immense chest, and shook his head. “You have no idea—”
“Mama, where are my new shoes?” Caleb’s cry from the back of the house cut him off. Ellie hurried to help him, both frightened and excited by whatever Sean was going to say.
“They’re right here, honey,” she said, kicking them out from under his bed.
Jamming his feet into his sneakers, Caleb ran for the door. “Okay, I’m ready,” he declared. Chris followed right behind him.
“I’ll have them home by suppertime,” Sean promised. He sent both boys ahead of him with, “Run! The truck’s unlocked.”
He and Ellie remained in the cramped hallway. Ellie clutched Colton to her chest like a shield, her heart beating irregularly. “I hope you get some studying done,” Sean said gruffly, proving he hadn’t overlooked her textbook on the floor. “You should be proud of yourself,” he added, “going back to school and all.”
She’d received so few scraps of encouragement in her life that his words seemed to lift her right off the floor. Was that what he’d been about to tell her earlier? “Just doing what I have to do,” she murmured with a pinch of disappointment.
“Well. See you,” he said, and with a wink and a smile, he was gone.
She watched him jog through the rain to his truck, where the boys tussled inside, fogging up the windows.
His beat-up Chevy shot out of her driveway backward, reversed direction, and disappeared. The house seemed suddenly too quiet. She wished she’d been invited to go along with them. Sean’s presence was like a sunbeam on a cloudy day.
You fool, scolded a voice in her head. Not every itch needs scratching. Her attraction to Sean would only distract her from the goals she’d set for herself: to get a degree in nursing with the aim of becoming a certified midwife. Mooning over a man would get her nowhere. Hadn’t she learned that lesson from marrying Carl?
Putting her weight against the door, Ellie tried to ignore the throb of desire that left her feeling needy and unfulfilled. She was a woman, after all, in the prime of her life. She wasn’t a naïve sixteen-year-old anymore, stupid enough to think the all-star, high school quarterback was her salvation from years of foster care. Oh, no. She was her own woman now. And an affair with Sean Harlan spelled nothing but disaster for her and her boys.
“Daddy, you wanted to see me?” Skyler Dulay slipped through her father’s office door and shut it quietly behind her.
She caught him putting the key that opened his file cabinet back in the box he kept hidden in the back of his drawer. Over the years, she’d realized that was where he hid it. He did so now with precise and methodical movements, sending her a smile that failed to reach his dark, enigmatic eyes. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked off the seconds, and Skyler’s anxiety escalated.
Her father slowly stood. At well over six feet and always impeccably dressed, he cut an intimidating figure. She scarcely breathed as he rounded his desk. “Yes, I have a matter to discuss before you leave for the shelter today,” he imparted in his deceptively gentle, Southern drawl.
She glanced at the clock, her heart thudding heavily. News that was shared in her father’s study was never welcoming. “I’m already late,” she pointed out.
“This won’t wait,” he said, coming to stand before her, his smile now gone. He put out his hands, palms up, indicating she should lay her hands over his. She did so and was, as usual, overcome by a sudden sense of helplessness. At twenty-three, she still felt like a child.
“As the daughter of a Centurion, I’m sure you understand your obligations,” he began with an omnipotent glint in his murky eyes.
Skyler’s insides cramped. “Of course,” she murmured, terrified of what might come next.
“You’ve known for years that you would marry Ashton Jameson. He and I have decided to move up the wedding date.”
Skyler’s heart seemed to stop, then start up at an erratic pace. “Up to when?” she asked as the blood rushed from her cheeks.
“The end of this month,” he replied. His dark watchful eyes dared her to defy him.
“But, why?” she protested. “I have Mama to look after.”
His grip tightened. “You are not a son,” he said, reminding her of the Centurion laws forbidding daughters to inherit. “Without my wealth, you have nothing.”
Wrenching her hands from his, she walked to the window to hide her dismay. Below her, Carl, their gardener, snipped back the shriveled stalks of dead lilies, his lanky hair falling over his eyes. “I don’t want your wealth,” she dared to admit, clutching the heavy silk drape in one hand.
With a harsh grip, her father dragged her around. “Rubbish,” he declared. “You’ve no idea what it means to go without.”
“I work at a homeless shelter,” she reminded him, her cheeks flaming with indignation.
“And you come home to a mansion with servants,” he articulated with a nasty smile.
“Jameson is fifty years old!” Skyler cried, coming to the heart of her protest.
“Exactly,” hissed her father. “And one day, not too long from now, he’ll die, leaving you a wealthy widow, still young enough to pursue your silly little dreams.”
Chilled by his prediction and offended that he had belittled her aspirations, Skyler dug her nails into her palms for courage. “I am a grown woman,” she insisted, though her voice quavered. “I should get to choose who I’m going to marry.”
The look that crossed her father’s face struck fear in her heart. “Tonight, Jameson is giving you a ring,” he warned, scarcely above a whisper. Dismay smothered Skyler’s brief rebellion. “If you even think of refusing him, I’ll put you where you should have been all these years.”
A shudder wracked Skyler’s slender frame. He held her fate, her terrible secret, like a trump card in the palm of his hand. “Now, have a good day,” he added, releasing her with a genteel nod and a steely smile.
Feeling as though the breath had been knocked from her lungs, Skyler fled to the door and pushed through it, careful not to let it slam. Her father abhorred unseemly displays.
At just past midnight, Sean swung into Ellie’s driveway, wary of the message that had summoned him here. Sure enough, every light in the house was out, just like her voice mail, left on his cell an hour ago, had advised him.
Nothing’s working—not the switches or the outlets. There must be a problem with the main breaker in the electric box, she’d surmised in her husky drawl.
He loved the way she talked, liquefying short little words into long, molasses-smooth ones. He’d wondered, though, if she was telling the truth. Or was her call just a ploy to get him to drop by, late at night when the boys were sleeping? It wouldn’t be the first time a woman tenant with ulterior motives had summoned him.
The possibility that Ellie had something like that in mind heated his blood.
Candlelight flickered faintly behind her drawn blinds. With a tingle of excitement and an equally strong dose of wariness, Sean knocked lightly on her door.
The snap of a twig out back and the barest whisper of a footfall made him step back and listen. What was that?
But then the door eased open, and suddenly all of his attention was caught up in the vision of Ellie in a soft, worn nightgown with ragged lace at the neckline. His suspicions spiraled straight to his groin. Why else would she greet him in her nightie if not to lure him to her bed? But she was clutching a candle before her, holding it up like a weapon. Maybe sex wasn’t the . . .
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