Too Far Gone
Page 1
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2008 by Marliss Arruda
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Cover design by Dale Fioricco
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Hachette Book Group
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Forever is an imprint of Grand Central Publishing. The Forever name and logo is a trademark of Hachette Book Group, Inc.
First eBook Edition: November 2008
ISBN: 978-0-446-54508-2
Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
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
Also by Marliss Melton
Forget Me Not
In the Dark
Time to Run
Next to Die
Don’t Let Go
This book is dedicated to the memory of Navy SEAL Petty Officer 2nd Class, Michael Monsoor, who saved his comrades’ lives by jumping on a hand grenade in Ramadi, Iraq, on September 29, 2006. He was posthumously awarded the Medal of Honor for his sacrifice and the Silver Star for previous heroic acts. In his lifetime, his valiant service earned him the Bronze Star, the Purple Heart, and the Combat Action Ribbon. May he ever be the recipient of our humble gratitude.
Acknowledgments
For the citizens and natives of Savannah, Georgia, please forgive any insinuation that corruption rules your beautiful city. With the release of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Savannah became the prototype setting for a story involving intrigue and mystery. I have used that circumstance to my benefit and greatly appreciate your forbearance.
As always, writing a story is never an act completed in isolation. Many people contributed to the project, some wi
thout ever even realizing it. My thanks go to the hospitable folks at Old Town Trolley Tours in Savannah; to my editor, Michele Bidelspach, for giving me the time I needed for revisions; to retired FBI Special Agent Kevin McPartland for answering all of my annoying questions; and to officer Mark Kearney for answering my questions about getting arrested and going to jail.
My assistant, Janie Hawkins, deserves untold recognition for enduring the agonies of labor pains as we birthed this baby together. Bless you, Janie, for loving Sean and Ellie as much as I do and for sharing your time and talent to help me tell their tale.
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.
&nb
sp; 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.