Read Online Don't Let Go by Marliss Melton - Free Book Online Page A

witnessed by anyone else. “The last time I saw you, you were just a baby,” he continued roughly, “and I could hold you in my arms and rock you.”
    To his relief, he felt Silas lean into him.
    “Look,” he added, picking up the boy as he stood. “Look into the mirror and tell me what you see.” He put his face cheek to cheek with Silas’s.
    Silas didn’t say a word, but he took in their reflections—the identical dark hair, the light, silvery eyes fringed with dark lashes. “We’re the same,” Solomon answered for him. “You came from me, see? We belong together.”
    The little boy’s gaze searched his own. “Did you sing to me when I was a baby?” he asked suddenly.
    With a skip of his heart, Solomon realized he’d just heard his son speak, for the very first time—in the thickest Southern drawl imaginable, with a lisp that was a result of his missing front teeth.
    Emotion clogged his voice box, making it impossible to answer right away. “Aye, I did,” he rasped, at last, displaying his own Maine dialect.
    “What did you sing?” asked Silas.
    “I’ll show you later,” Solomon promised, “when we get to Virginia.” It would take them another twelve hours to get there. Solomon didn’t want to stop this time. He couldn’t wait to bring his son home.
    By lunchtime the following day, Solomon had started a mental list of things that needed change in his life in order to accommodate a six-year-old. The fact that his home was a houseboat and Silas couldn’t swim didn’t help matters.
    “Auntie said we’d be bait for ’gators if we swam in the creek,” Silas had said this morning as Solomon led him for the first time down the pier toward home. The rising sun had turned the marsh that fringed the inlet into stalks of gold.
    “There aren’t any alligators this far north,” Solomon had explained. He’d made his first note to self:
Teach Silas to swim
.
    Exhausted and emotionally spent, all Solomon had wanted to do was to fall into his captain’s bed and sleep. But Silas was wide-awake, having slept all night in the truck. Some of his shyness had worn off, making him a fount of unending questions.
    “What’s this? How’s it work?”
    The interior of Solomon’s houseboat was crammed with curiosities that captivated Silas’s imagination. Solomon didn’t dare retreat into his bedroom.
    Every nook, every cabinet, every drawer and cupboard—and there were dozens, all handmade and hung by Harley, a master craftsman—drew Silas’s scrutiny. He discovered the trapdoor that led to the engine room. “No, no. You don’t belong down there. It’s dangerous.” Solomon made another note:
Buy a lock
.
    “Come find me!” came Silas’s muffled voice as Solomon stood in the galley-style kitchen putting together sandwiches.
    Solomon sucked jelly off his fingers and went seeking.
    But the living area from which the challenge had been issued stood empty. With rising concern, Solomon cast his gaze about, praying Silas hadn’t slipped through the door to traipse along the deck, above the deadly water. “Where are you?” he demanded, as the nightmare played itself out in his head.
    “In here!” came the muffled voice.
    Solomon’s horrified gaze flew to the storage space under the built-in bookcases where he kept his SEAL gear, including a loaded, .5mm handgun.
    “Silas!” he thundered, then immediately reined himself in. The boy didn’t know any better. He was just doing what any healthy child would do; he was playing.
    With a forced smile, Solomon lifted the lid of the smooth, wooden chest. “Found you,” he said, a cold sweat filming his forehead. “Come out now and eat.”
    As he pulled the boy out, he stashed his gun out of sight, under the pile of gear, making yet another note:
Buy hardware for a second lock.
    They sat in the dining nook by a pentagonal window that overlooked Lynnhaven Inlet and consumed their sandwiches. Solomon’s thoughts scrambled to address his new