Show No Fear
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 © 2009 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.
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First eBook Edition: September 2009
ISBN: 978-0-446-55812-9
Contents
RAVE REVIEWS FORALISS MELTON AND HER NOVELS
MARLISS MELTON
AND HER NOVELS
TOO FAR GONE
“Tremendous…A mother’s frantic fear…[a] desperate race.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
“A terrific romantic suspense thriller.”
—Midwest Book Review
“This is a taut, thrilling, well-written novel with an unexpected twist…A terrific addition to this Navy SEAL series.”
—
TheRomanceReadersConnection.com
“Likable and honorable characters who elicit sympathy and/or empathy; exciting, intelligently crafted plots with inner and
outer conflicts to overcome; and heartwarming love stories mark all [the books in this series.] I highly recommend
Too Far Gone
.”
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
“Melton delivers another suspenseful tale that you will never forget.”
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
“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.”
TIME TO RUN
“Melton…doesn’t miss a beat in this involving story.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Edgy contemporary romantic suspense…emotional fireworks as well as some fancy sniper shooting.”
—Booklist
“Melton’s compelling protagonists propel the gritty and realistic storytelling…Excellent!”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
IN THE DARK
“Hooked me from the first page…filled with romance, suspense, and characters who will pull you in and never let you go.”
—L
ISA
J
ACKSON
,
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
FORGET ME NOT
“Refreshing…fine writing, likable characters, and realistic emotions.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A wonderful book, touching at all the right heartstrings. I highly recommend it!”
—H
EATHER
G
RAHAM
, author of
Dead on the Dance Floor
“The gifted Melton does an excellent job building emotion, danger, and tension in her transfixing novel.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews Magazine
Forget Me Not
In the Dark
Time to Run
Next to Die
Don’t Let Go
Too Far Gone
This story is written in honor of three American contractors, Marc Gonsalves, Keith Stansell, and Thomas Howes, who were held
captive by Colombian rebels for five years and five months. While I was researching this story, you were all still hostages.
It had been my intent to raise awareness of your plight, so that you wouldn’t be forgotten. My prayers were answered when
you were bravely rescued on July 2, 2008, in a combined effort involving the Colombian army and intelligence agents. Welcome
home, gentlemen. You were never as alone as you must have felt you were. May you find peace with the past and fulfillment
in the future.
Lucy’s story has been, by far, the toughest, most rewarding book to write in my entire Navy SEALs series. It took extensive
research into the testimonials of those who’ve been held captive in Colombia, have aided the Colombian government in suppressing
terrorism, or have interacted with the FARC in some personal way. My thanks goes to Glenn Heggstad, who described his captivity
in Colombia in his testimonial
Two Wheels Through Terror
, giving me insight into that awful experience. My fullest respect and awe go to Russell Martin Stendal, author of
Rescue the Captors 2
, who, through his fearless missionary work, has converted hundreds of FARC rebels to the Christian faith, causing them to
denounce violence and seek a peaceful resolution to the ongoing civil war.
Also, I could not have written such a realistic story without the advice of intelligence officers who cannot be named, as
well as Navy SEAL commander Mark Divine. Special recognition must be given to retired Australian Services Regiment sniper
Chris Nally, for advising me on all matters military. You are my hero!
Lastly, I would be remiss were I not to thank Janie, who believed in my ability to craft a story even without her daily input.
I’m afraid I have to agree with Lucy, Janie girl. Dodging bullets with a partner is way more fun.
“What happens in the jungle stays in the jungle.”
—I
NGRID
B
ETANCOURT
,
FARC hostage for six years, four months, and nine days
Maiquetía, Venezuela
L
ucy Donovan, top-notch case officer for the CIA, considered herself virtually fearless. But the Elite Guards’ threat to blow
up the warehouse, with her trapped inside it, made her skin feel too tight. She wasn’t afraid to die, but thoughts of being
blown to pieces touched on a memory so raw and painful that she came closer to panicking than she ever had in her life.
With a knife slipped in her hands at the last minute by a sympathetic Elite Guardsman, she had severed the flexicuffs that
had kept her bound to a chair. The window through which a warm, sulfurous breeze wafted offered escape and certain survival.
Only Lucy couldn’t jump out yet. She had a job to finish—to find the CDs she’d been forced to hide when the Elite Guard first
stormed the building.
Beaten and bleeding, with seconds draining away like sand through an hourglass, she slipped from the office to slink along
the catwalk edging the outer wall.
The creaking of hinges one level below her made her freeze.
What now?
she wondered, uncertain whether the sound was real or just imagined. With no time to guess, she continued to search for the
line of chalk marking the support beam behind which she’d hidden the CDs.
A scuffling sound confirmed that she was not alone in this vast, echoing warehouse. Footfalls, so stealthy they gave her pause,
crept along the cement slab below.
Two people? Three?
Awash in a cold sweat, she wondered who they might be.
Damn it!
If they interfered with her exodus, they were all going to end up in little pieces!
Seeing the line of chalk, at last, she bent to retrieve the CDs from the aperture behind the beam.
Plop!
Blood dripped from her chin, landing loudly on the grooved metal flooring. At the same time, the stairs leading from the
first floor to the second gave a groan.
Lucy held her breath. Someone was ascending the steps to the catwalks above. If he was equipped with night vision, he would
discover her almost immediately. Her only option was to disappear.
Casting a desperate eye around her, she realized the metal supports for the catwalk offered possibilities.
Stuffing the CDs into the pocket of her cargo pants, she stepped onto the railing and reached for the horizontal bar high
over her head. In a move called a roof assault, she pulled her feet, then her body, up and over the bar. The effort sent blood
rushing past her eardrums, challenging her equilibrium. Had she imagined it, or had someone called her name?
The silhouette of a man edged cautiously into view. Friend or foe? she wondered, praying she’d climbed too high for him to
see her. He wore night-vision gear, so it was impossible to see his face, to determine his affiliation. With a pack on his
back, an assault rifle, and more gear strapped to his belt, he looked like a Navy SEAL, but she couldn’t be certain.
She could tell that he was following her blood trail. With his gaze angled downward, he still hadn’t noticed her, clinging
to the support rod several feet over his head. She watched as he passed directly below her, crossing to the beam where she’d
hidden the CDs.
The blood coursing down her face proved problematic. She tried to staunch the flow with her sleeve, but a droplet escaped,
falling in slow motion to hit the metal riser with a musical
thunk.
Lucy flinched. The commando shrank out of sight at the sound, hiding his broad-shouldered frame behind the slender beam. “Lucy!”
he whispered from his hiding place.
At the sound of her name, Lucy’s tense muscles went lax. Her body slid bonelessly off the bar. She hung by her sweaty fingertips
for a second before dropping gracefully to her feet. “Here I am,” she said, relieved beyond measure that she was being rescued
and not hunted down.
He spun into view, lifting the visor of his night-vision gear, and Lucy’s heart stopped.
It had to be the greasepaint that made him look exactly like her college boyfriend, James. The athletic body didn’t jibe with
her mental recollection. But as she took a curious step closer, his expression of horror confirmed her observation.
