Hot Target
The Echo Platoon Series
Book Four
by
Marliss Melton
Bestselling, Award-winning Author
Published by ePublishing Works!
www.epublishingworks.com
ISBN: 978-1-947833-02-9
By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.
Please Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated.
Copyright © 2017 by Marliss Melton. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
Cover and eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com
Table of Contents
Cover
Dedication
Acknowledgements
Prologue
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
Epilogue
Meet the Author
Dedication
This story is dedicated to Senior Chief Kyle Milliken, U.S. Navy SEAL, who lost his life while assisting Somali forces in their fight against al-Shabaab. Kyle's heroism attests to the bravery of all special warfare operators. His sacrifice is a poignant reminder of the risks they take to keep terror at bay and not only for Americans. Rest in peace, true and faithful son of freedom.
Acknowledgements
I wrote HOT TARGET during one of the greatest transitions of my life. It's not easy to focus on fiction when your reality is disintegrating. But that's when you turn to your readers for encouragement and inspiration. My heartfelt thanks go to Suzanne Gochenouer for her thorough and professional editing. Thank you to all the members of my Special Reconnaissance Team, especially Penny, Deborah, Mellena, Lori, Jan, Regina, and Amy for your helpful comments and proofreading. And, as always, thank you to my best friend, Sydney Jane Baily, for being the one constant I can always, ultimately count on in the end.
Prologue
Stay calm, Juliet. This isn't really happening.
Two loud explosions echoed in her ears. It felt real. The family Oldsmobile fishtailed on the rain-slick road. Clutching the armrest of the seat behind the driver, Juliet Rhodes screamed as the car slid into the ditch.
She threw her hands against the driver's seat to brace herself.
"Oh, God!" her father cried as the car's front end started up the ditch's opposite side only to slam into the trunks of trees lining it. At impact, the hood of the car rose up like a dark wave. Her mother flew face-first into the dashboard, and the windshield exploded inward. Shards of glass burst into the car's interior, spangling her mother's slumped body. The car tipped onto its left side as its rear end settled into the trough. Metal crumpled inward, trapping Juliet's hand between her father's seat and her door.
This isn't really happening.
The teenager, her arm pinned tightly, didn't believe the words in her head. It felt real. It looked real.
"Mom!" Anne Rhodes lay slumped across her husband, Gerald, whose inhalations sawed like fingernails on a chalkboard. Juliet had to get her mother off him, but regardless of how hard the girl pulled, she couldn't free herself.
"Mom! Dad!"
Anne's head lolled at an impossible angle. With the engine pushed into the body of the car, Gerald Rhodes sat pinned by the steering wheel. Given his labored breathing, his ribs were broken, possibly perforating his lungs.
It's just a dream, Juliet. Wake up.
But she couldn't wake up any more than she could move. Rain fell through the shattered windows, each cold droplet splatting against her cheek and holding her captive in this nightmare.
Her father's agonizing breaths played quartet to the ticking, steaming vehicle, the patter of raindrops, the peeping of tree frogs.
"Help!" The distraught teen was already aware no one would hear her feeble cries. Somehow, she knew her mother was already dead.
Just wake up.
She blinked furiously, hoping to rouse herself, but all she saw was a face looming at her mother's window. The dimly lit dash illumined a man's large head, broad cheekbones, and pale eyes.
His dispassionate watchfulness warned her to remain silent. For a long time, he studied the front-seat occupants, never once taking his eyes off the man and woman to notice the girl trapped in the dark behind them. Rattling emanated from her father's throat, followed by an exhalation, and then silence.
As suddenly as he'd appeared, the silent observer was gone.
Who the hell was that man?
The memory, long buried and bubbling up from some deep well in Juliet's mind, jolted her awake. She lurched straight up in bed, her heart pounding, mouth dry. The accident was as fresh in her mind as when it happened eleven years ago.
Gooseflesh rippled over her body, raising the hair at her nape and assuring her she hadn't invented the new detail in her recurring dream. If anything, she'd repressed the memory until now—one so crisp and clear she could still picture the man's face. And it changed everything.
Juliet was twenty-seven now, a private investigator living alone in a high-rise apartment in Fairfax, Virginia. And the adult Juliet had the power to do something with this unearthed information.
Kicking off the covers, she vaulted out of bed and plucked up her cell phone. On her way to the bathroom, she glanced at the time and winced. It wasn't yet four in the morning, but she couldn't keep this to herself. She needed to make a composite drawing of the stranger's face and to record every new detail she'd just recalled.
The man in her nightmare had looked into the car, seen her parents dead, and disappeared, making no attempt to call 911. That made him Juliet's primary suspect in a tragedy the authorities had deemed an accident.
Snapping on the bathroom light, Juliet averted her gaze from the mirror. With trembling fingers, she speed-dialed her assistant. No need to disturb Emma, her sister, until Juliet had confirmed her suspicions, or at least clarified them in some way.
The impulse to call Tristan, her one-time Navy SEAL lover, caught her unawares. Since when did she rely on a man for reassurance? So what if he'd held her together the last time her world had imploded? That was six months ago in a different country. This situation was unique. It didn't involve one of Tristan's friends. She could handle it alone.
Forget about him.
Hilary Alcorn, her assistant, answered after three rings.
"What?"
"I need you to meet me at the office in
thirty minutes. Please," Juliet added to soften what must sound like an early morning dose of crazy.
Two beats of silence. "Are you OK?" Disgruntlement gave way to concern.
"I don't know. I just remembered something about my parents' accident—a man was there, long before help came. I don't want to forget the details."
"OK." Hilary sounded intrigued. "I'll get there as soon as I can."
"Thanks. Bye." Thumbing the call closed, Juliet released a shaky breath then slowly raised her gaze to her reflection.
Golden hair, tousled from sleep, hung in long layers to her breasts. Wide gray eyes set in a chalk-white face looked back at her. Her nose was straight. Her lips, lush and full, betrayed the tough image she attempted to project. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.
"Who are you?" she demanded, picturing the man's distinct features. A chill skittered up her spine.
Whoever he was, the Mystery Man had neither assisted the crash victims nor called for help. The accident had remained undiscovered until the driver of an eighteen-wheeler glimpsed their Oldsmobile lying in the ditch. Juliet had spent four hours trapped in the dark with her parents' bodies. Little wonder she was claustrophobic.
If Mystery Man hadn't gone for help, that could only mean one thing.
He'd caused the accident.
She had known it. All these years, she'd considered the series of events with skepticism—first the explosion of two tires that caused them to fishtail, her mother's seatbelt giving way, and the airbags failing to deploy. Deep ditches and trees lined both sides of the road right where the crash happened.
The sheer number of unfortunate circumstances was suspicious in itself. Juliet had only been sixteen at the time but, backed by her big sister, she had demanded the authorities investigate the possibility of homicide. She was certain someone had sabotaged her father's car.
Unfortunately, a lengthy investigation had ruled out her suppositions. The tires had been old, in need of replacing. For some unknown reason, her father had turned off the airbag feature, and her mother's seatbelt simply hadn't worked correctly. The police concluded that school teachers Gerald and Anne Rhodes hadn't had the money to keep their vehicle maintained. Officials chalked the accident up to misfortune.
All lies. Juliet's spine quaked with the force of her trembling.
Anne and Gerald were murdered, and Mystery Man was behind it. Too bad for him, she had been there to see him. Worse for him, Juliet had grown up to become a private investigator. She'd worked two years for an established firm before taking over when her mentor retired. In three short years, she'd established a reputation for finding answers.
Her personal life was no exception. She would find the monster who'd killed her parents and make him pay.
Chapter 1
For a man who once hurtled a fifty-foot canyon in a desert patrol vehicle, a simple outing to a restaurant should not be wreaking havoc on his adrenaline system.
Tristan Halliday seated himself across from his companions at a table in a popular restaurant in Fairfax, Virginia, with his heart pounding. His mouth hadn't been this dry since he'd stopped a fourteen-year-old Afghan boy from blowing up a mosque in Aleppo. And all he was doing was waiting for the only woman in the world who'd ever rejected his advances to join him and his friends for lunch.
Well, she hadn't rejected him unequivocally. She'd given him a challenge—no dating for six months and in return, he would earn a date with the delectable Juliet Rhodes. Well, he'd risen to the challenge. He'd managed to resist all of them; no easy feat considering women literally threw themselves at him. The prize, in his opinion, was worth any amount of deprivation. Having reached the six-month milestone just yesterday, he was here to claim his reward.
The last time Tristan had seen her, he still had eight weeks to go. The occasion had been his teammate Jeremiah's wedding in August to Juliet's older sister, Emma. Juliet had danced and flirted with him. He'd been certain, at one point, she was going back to his hotel room with him, putting an end to his miserable stint of celibacy and picking up where they'd left off in Mexico. He'd been wrong. She'd untangled herself from his arms, reminded him that he still had two dateless months left, and banished him to his room. Alone.
Tristan hadn't so much as called her in the meantime. Let her think he'd forgotten all about her. Hell, if he was going to be lonely, then so was she.
Today, however, his purgatory would be over. He'd done what Juliet had asked of him, so she had better live up to her end of the arrangement.
And just in case she tried wriggling out of it, he'd brought along reinforcements. Actually, they had brought him along, and Juliet didn't even know he was coming. Emma, having moved from Fairfax to Virginia Beach after her wedding, was back to visit her sibling. She'd brought along her new husband, Jeremiah, and Tristan had tagged along.
He had no idea how Juliet would react to his unexpected presence, but the images in his head weren't all pretty. Hence the churning stomach and the cold sweats.
"And what would you like to drink?" the waitress asked as Tristan stretched his legs under the table. He tugged his shirttail out of his pants in an attempt to get comfortable.
"I'll have a beer—Foster's," he decided. One beer to calm his nerves, but only one.
"You can bring my sister a Dr. Pepper," Emma said to the waitress. "She'll be here any minute."
Tristan made a mental note of Juliet's soda preference while imagining knowing Juliet as well as Emma did.
"She just pulled up," Jeremiah stated while perusing the menu.
Tristan didn't ask how his teammate knew without even looking up. Bullfrog, as the Team called him, laid claim to a sixth sense that had never proved wrong. Tristan's heart pounded while his expectant gaze swung toward the restaurant's double doors.
Three seconds later, one of the doors opened and Juliet walked in. Tristan's stomach went into free fall simply looking at her.
Was there ever a more striking woman?
Her pale gray slacks paired with a persimmon-colored blouse suited the season. Long, honey-blonde hair slipped over her shoulders as she inclined her head to speak to the shorter hostess. The woman turned and pointed out their table. Juliet's gaze followed the woman's finger, and surprise widened her eyes for an instant. Immediately she recovered her default expression of cool inscrutability. As she headed in their direction, every male in the restaurant took note.
Galvanized by hormones and adrenaline, Tristan pushed to his feet, which prompted Jeremiah to do likewise.
Hello, gorgeous.
Six months ago, Tristan would have greeted Juliet with those words. But his confidence had taken a hit at Jeremiah's wedding. Fear that she would renege on her promise made her the scariest opponent he'd ever faced. If she tried brushing him off this time, he might do something he regretted.
Her lips quirked at the men's show of gallantry. "At ease, gentlemen." She sounded amused. "Hey, sis," she added more warmly. "Hello, Bullfrog."
Ignoring the chair Tristan pulled out for her, she bent over Emma's auburn head to kiss her sister's cheek. "How was your drive up? Did you run into traffic?"
Barely acknowledging Tristan, she then slipped into the proffered chair. He promptly pushed it in.
"The traffic wasn't bad," Emma answered, "aside from a little construction."
"Where's Sammy? I thought she was coming with you." Emma rarely went anywhere without her pre-teen daughter.
"She's staying at her friend Gracie's."
"Oh, too bad." With a visible breath, she finally deigned to address Tristan, her gaze as friendly as a honed blade pressed against his jugular. "No one said you were coming."
His temper ignited. "I'm sorry. Did I need your permission?"
Her eyebrows rose at his sarcastic tone, but that was her only reaction. She went back to ignoring him, giving the waitress her order, and chatting with her sister and new brother-in-law.
With rising frustration, Tristan listened while they discussed Emma's new teac
hing position in Virginia Beach. They talked about the renovations underway in the house the newlyweds had bought. Emma regaled her sister with news of Sammy's foray into the seventh-grade. All the while, Tristan pondered how to get and keep Juliet's attention.
They had met in April on a cruise ship bound for the Western Caribbean. Freshly dumped by the girl he'd planned to marry, Tristan had been nursing a bruised ego. Juliet's prickly demeanor and feisty intelligence had intrigued him. She was the first woman he'd ever run into who regarded him with apparent indifference. Except that turned out to be a ruse. When tragedy struck, and she was overwrought by her sister and niece's kidnapping, she'd seemed to like him plenty.
What's more, she hadn't been as impervious to their chemistry as she pretended to be. She might have used the word "distraction" to describe the red-hot sex they'd had, but she'd loved every minute of it. In the harrowing days that followed, Tristan had glimpsed a side of Juliet that made him want to be her superhero.
Deep down, Juliet Rhodes needed him. She simply didn't see it the way he did. Given the chance, he would prove to her he was indispensable to her happiness. Whatever obstacles she encountered in life, he wanted to face them with her, the way they had down in Mexico.
With their meals in front of them, the conversation turned to politics and the new president's position on foreign policy. Tristan offered up his opinion, but only Jeremiah challenged it. Juliet kept her mouth shut, which wasn't like her. The Juliet he knew would have voiced a thoughtful but opposing view.
Watching her from the corner of his eye, Tristan realized she was picking at her salad, scarcely eating. As Jeremiah chimed in with cautious enthusiasm for the President's anti-terrorism policies, Tristan studied Juliet more carefully.
Hot Target Page 1
