Morgan, Nicole - Sweet Vengeance [Sweet Awakenings 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)
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Sweet Awakenings 3
Sweet Vengeance
Adam Collins is just beginning to put his life back together when he meets Chelsea, his sweet and beautiful next door neighbor. As the two spend more time together, an attraction between them builds.
A nightmare from Adam’s past, that he thought was long ago dead and buried, comes back to life and places him and Chelsea in danger. Enlisting the help of two of his former Navy SEALs team members, Adam must find a way to keep them both safe.
As the danger mounts and passions ignite, one question will remain. Who will be left standing after Sweet Vengeance is served?
Genre: Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Length: 59,423 words
SWEET VENGEANCE
Sweet Awakenings 3
Nicole Morgan
EROTIC ROMANCE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: Your non-refundable purchase of this e-book allows you to only ONE LEGAL copy for your own personal reading on your own personal computer or device. You do not have resell or distribution rights without the prior written permission of both the publisher and the copyright owner of this book. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee, or as a prize in any contest. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer.
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Erotic Romance
SWEET VENGEANCE
Copyright © 2011 by Nicole Morgan
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-927-9
First E-book Publication: January 2011
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter from Nicole Morgan
Regarding E-book Piracy
Dear Readers,
It is unfortunate that in this day and age that we have to include these types of letters to our readers, but the actions of many others have left publishers and authors with no other choice.
E-book piracy has become a trend that is reprehensible. Figures were released earlier this year that show e-book piracy costs U.S. publishers $2.8 billion in lost sales. This doesn’t account for the amount of money that should go to the authors for the stories they have created.
As one of the many authors who has seen their book(s) downloaded illegally on any of the various pirate sites, I implore you to please not share e-books or accept file sharing from anyone else.
E-book piracy is a crime punishable by law. Please don’t add to the growing theft by being a part of the unlawful behavior of others.
With deep gratitude,
Nicole Morgan
DEDICATION
I wrote Sweet Vengeance as book 3 in my Navy SEALs series, Sweet Awakenings. This book’s hero, Adam is a former Navy SEAL as were the characters of the preceding two novels. I dedicate this book to all service men and women of our great armed forces of our United States of America. I look at these selfless individuals with a great respect and admiration. Their sacrifices are what give us the freedom that we are all so lucky to have.
I would also like to dedicate this book, as I do with all of my others, to my family. Without their love and support I would have never been able to bring my ideas to life and eventually to your reading eyes.
Also, I have to thank everyone at my publisher who has been so wonderful to me. Alison from Siren has been a delight to work with, and my books would never look as good as they do if it wasn’t for my fantastic cover artist, Jinger Heaston. Thank you!
SWEET VENGEANCE
Sweet Awakenings 3
NICOLE MORGAN
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 1
Adam ran behind the car looking for anything he could use to protect them. Them? Where was she? Just a moment ago, she had been right behind him. Oh, Jesus God, where was Ally?
Adam got down on the ground, down so that every part of his body was flat against the pavement. Dirt and gravel dug into his cheek. He could smell the putrid stench of blood, urine, and other scents that made his stomach churn.
He looked under the car, glancing all around, hoping to see Ally. Then, to his left and behind the car, he saw her.
Oh, God! No! Adam saw her, and a pain ripped through his soul, his insides clenched, and he wanted to scream with anguish. She shouldn’t be lying there.
When he ran, he told her to run and get help. He had just wanted her out of there. He wanted her to run away from him, not toward him. It was the only way he could think to protect her. Yet she was lying there. She hadn’t run to get help. She had run straight after him, and now, it was too late. She had already been hit.
Ally hadn’t done what he asked. She had not left him to go get help. It was so typical of her, to never leave him. If only she had, then she would be safe. She wouldn’t be lying on the other side of the car. Her limp body wouldn’t be lying on the dirt-covered pavement.
Adam stared at those beautiful, sweet, and innocent eyes that used to look at him with such devotion. They were so lifeless now. There was a drop the color of crimson seeping down the top of her forehead to the tip of her nose.
She had a haunted look on her face, a look Adam couldn’t quite place. He lay there frozen as he looked deep into her eyes, searching for the answer of what was there. Then it hit him. It was the look of fear. The look that was emblazoned on her corneas was the look of sheer terror. The last thing Ally felt before she died was fear.
The one woman who never should have felt one ounce of pain or sadness had actually died in fear. She would never stand beside him again, hanging on to his every word, going along with his every thought and suggestion.
She was gone. Dear God, she was gone, and all because he insisted on doing what the cops had referred to as not only the right thing to do, but the only thing to do. Gone was her beauty, and in its place was a look that would haunt him all of the days of his life.
Staring into her lifeless eyes, Adam shook himself out of his thoughts. He knew he had to snap out of his self-induced brooding. He had to shake his mind back to reality.
Adam lay there, discerning that the bullets were still flying over the car, into the car, and everywhere else around him. He could hear the ping, ping sound as the bullets penetrated the metal above him, crunching it with every fierce blow that erupted from the gun.
> Adam stared into her beautiful, green eyes once more. He hadn’t held the gun that had fired the fatal bullet into her flesh, but he had killed her just the same. He did this to her. He was the cause behind the death of the sweetest and most trusting woman he had ever known. This man who had been spraying the bullets at them with such disregard for human life surely deserved to die, too.
Adam prepared himself for the pain he was about to endure as he came at the man. He knew he was fated to get riddled with the same bullets that had taken Ally from him. He pushed himself up from the ground to a standing position. He was almost completely upright when he heard the sirens.
Adam first saw two, then three, and finally five police cruisers come out of the darkened alleys as if they appeared from nowhere at all. The red and blue lights flashing nearly blinded him with their intensity.
The thug firing the gun put his hands up with what looked like shock. Even with all of this shooting for the past several minutes, the asshole actually seemed surprised to see the cops.
The officers were screaming at him to drop his weapon and step back and away. Then, when it looked like the man who had so callously taken Ally’s life just moments ago was about to obey the officers’ requests, he looked at Adam with a scowl. Then in one fluid motion he turned and aimed the gun toward Adam. He cocked the gun and prepared to fire.
Time literally stood still in Adam’s mind. He watched as the man aimed and began to pull the trigger, all the while frozen, unable to move as he looked into the man’s eyes, wondering if there was a soul behind them.
A timid-looking cop fired at the shooter, but unfortunately not in time. Adam saw the flash. He felt the pain as the bullet entered his body, tearing at his flesh. A blaze tore through the wound. It was a blinding pain, burning in his left shoulder. Dear God, was this how Ally had felt? Had she felt this amount of pain?
Adam remembered thinking that it hurt like a son of a bitch. A phrase that his father used many times growing up, but Adam had never found a point in his life where it seemed to fit. It did now, though. It hurt unlike any pain he had ever felt. He thought how strange it was that after all of his years in the SEALs, he had never been shot. Hell, he had never been hurt at all.
How strange it was that his first wound would take place in a back alley in Denver, Colorado, a year after his discharge from the Navy.
Adam went down on the ground. He held his shoulder, which was now bleeding of its own volition as if someone had turned on the faucet to his blood supply.
Goddamn the pain! The only thing Adam remembered hearing as he drifted off into the sweetest, most peaceful veil of sleep was the gunfire that surrounded him. He was thinking of Ally as he watched the officers continue to pummel the man with bullets. It was bittersweet justice, he thought as he watched the life leave the man’s face and drain out of him.
Adam opened his eyes, expecting to see the officers, an ambulance, or maybe a hospital, but instead, he saw Ally. There she was, looking back at him. He thought it was strange. She looked just as he remembered her before they had been ambushed in that alley.
She looked beautiful. There were no dark crimson droplets staining her face. She didn’t have a look of fear or terror in her eyes, but there was something else there. She still looked haunted, but he wasn’t sure why. What was it?
“Ally.” He called to her. “I’m so glad you’re okay. You are okay, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
“Oh, Adam.” She came toward him, gently touching his cheek. “I love you, and I will be okay. I will be happy. I will be so happy if you just go back.” She shook her head at him in argument when he started to protest. “It’s not your time.” She insisted, “Please, Adam, go back. Leave me be.”
Adam listened to her in disbelief. He hated the sadness he saw in her eyes. This didn’t make any sense. Ally always fought to stay together. She wouldn’t just tell him to leave. It dawned on him then. He wasn’t okay, and neither was Ally. They were dead. She had died, and so had he. He looked down. No. It couldn’t be. Life, God, fate could not be that cruel.
Ally looked up into his eyes as he reached for her belly—BEEP, BEEP, BEEP.
Adam was woken in the midst of the nightmare he was forced to suffer through far too many times.
He leaned across the bed and hit the off button on his alarm clock. The time read 6:45 a.m., and it was definitely time to get moving. Unconsciously and out of habit, he reached over to his shoulder and rubbed the scar, which was still more emotional than physical.
Dragging his feet over the edge of the bed, he looked at his image in the mirror across the room and grimaced at what he saw. If someone could actually look like hell, he definitely fit the bill.
The aroma of the bold coffee that was brewing in the kitchen filled the house. Thank God for coffeemakers with timers. The scent seeped into his nostrils and jolted his brain.
Adam exhaled a deep breath and dragged his hands through his hair, rubbed them down his face, and wondered to himself why he had the dream again. Months had gone by since the last one. He thought he was starting to get over the PTSD that the doctors diagnosed him with after he woke in that hospital room and was forced to relive the memory of Ally and their…of Ally dying.
Maybe he hadn’t really forgiven himself after all. Maybe deep down, he knew Ally’s death would always be his fault. If that was the case, then…hell, who was he kidding? That was the case. It was his fault.
Ally was dead, and it was because of him. He would never see his…instantly, Adam shook himself out of his deep thoughts. He wouldn’t go down that road, wouldn’t think of all that he had lost that night.
Adam got up from the bed and headed for the bathroom, determined to get through one more day. Or die trying, God willing.
Chapter 2
Chelsea rounded the corner with ease. A quick check of her watch confirmed that she had almost reached the forty-five-minute mark. She continued her breathing exercises and inhaled through her nose then exhaled through her mouth.
She was absolutely exhilarated. It had been so long since she had just been able to take in her surroundings, beat her feet against the pavement, and run without a care in the world. Closing her eyes for a moment, she couldn’t help but smirk as she breathed in the crisp morning air.
After a few moments of reflection, she opened her eyes just in time to see a car barrel out of its driveway and nearly run her over. She stopped in her tracks, almost falling from the sudden halt.
Once she caught her bearings, she flipped her hair out of her face and got a look at the car that drove so recklessly. She glowered at the sight. It was him…that inconsiderate asshole from next door. His name was Alan, or Adam, or something like that, but to her, he was just plain asshole.
She did her best to not raise her finger and give him the salute that he deserved, but her anger took over, and she did just that. Why she had bothered she wasn’t sure, because by the time she was hollering at him and raising that mighty finger, he was far down the street and surely couldn’t see her anyway.
It was only when she caught something in the corner of her eye that she lowered her hand. She glanced over to her right and saw Mrs. Bristow standing on her front porch. Great, she thought.
“Hi, Mrs. Bristow. How are you today?” She bit down on her bottom lip as she waited for the sweet woman’s response.
Colleen Bristow stood on her porch, holding a rug in hand. “Oh, me? I’m fine, dear. Just fine. You, however, seem to be a bit upset, don’t you, now?”
Chelsea closed her eyes and silently cursed. What was it about the Bristows that always made her feel like she was twelve years old and in the principal’s office?
“No, I’m fine, Mrs. Bristow.” She wanted to roll her eyes at her own stupidity. She knew there was no way Mrs. Bristow would leave it alone just because she said she was fine.
“Are you, now? Well there, lass, it would seem to me that you’re not. Why don’t you come on over here for a cup of tea?”
Oh, no
, the dreaded cup of tea. Chelsea was sure she knew what that meant. Ever since moving in a little over a month ago, she had heard nothing but great things about their son, Cullen Jr., and she was sure that Mrs. Bristow would like nothing more than to marry him off to a sweet, unsuspecting gal like herself.
“That’s all right, Mrs. Bristow. I’ve actually got to get inside and get ready for work. Thanks for the invite, though.” Not giving Mrs. Bristow a chance to argue, she headed for her front door. She was almost touching the handle when she heard the sweet lady call out to her once more.
“Okay, then, but you come over for dinner this evening.”
Chelsea cursed silently. She had almost been safely inside. Turning back to face her, she was about to say thank you and give her a polite decline, but the determined smile she saw on the woman’s face told her that she would lose the argument anyway.
So instead, she smiled and said, “Sure. What time do you want me there?”
A triumphant smile lifted the corners of Colleen Bristow’s mouth. “You be here at six o’clock, dear.”
“Sure. I’ll see you then. Bye, now.” She quickly went inside and closed the door before she found herself agreeing to anything else.
Twenty minutes later, Chelsea sat at her kitchen table and looked at the picture proofs before her. She dipped her spoon into her bowl of Grape-Nuts. Picking up a picture and studying the blemishes on the poor girl’s face, she took a mouthful of the cereal and began to chomp down on it.
After studying the photo for a few moments, she knew any retouching on this photo would have to be a massive undertaking. How sad it was that this girl, in her senior year of high school, was plagued with such horrible acne.
Normally, she hated the fact that her dream of becoming a professional photographer had reduced her to taking family portraits and senior pictures for the local high school students, but looking at this young girl with such a pretty smile, great bone structure, yet so many red marks made her glad this was where she was.
She would retouch this photo until the young Christina would look as beautiful as any model who graced the cover of those many magazines anyone was forced to look at in the checkout lines.