Matt came to the doorway, just as Genie disappeared. She didn’t merely fade away; it seemed that there was a beautiful flash of light all around her.
It might have been a blinking streetlight.
Meg didn’t think so.
She knew Matt didn’t, either.
After a moment, he said, “Come on, Killer. In for the night.”
The dog looked out into the night a moment longer, then obediently trotted back into the house.
Matt closed and locked the door.
He leaned against it, trapping Meg in his arms, locking her into position there. He smiled. “Hottie, huh?”
“Oh, Lord,” she murmured.
“Want me to prove it?” he teased.
“If you can,” she teased back.
He released her and she headed up the stairs, aware that he was following her, that he knew her mind...
And was quite capable of proving that he was everything she wanted. Her lover, her partner.
And her life.
***
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE FORGOTTEN by Heather Graham.
“Graham does a great job of blending just a bit of paranormal with real, human evil.”
—Miami Herald on Unhallowed Ground Looking for more bone-chilling mysteries starring the FBI’s paranormal investigations unit, the Krewe of Hunters?
Don’t miss the next electrifying installments in this incredible series from New York Times bestselling author and queen of romantic suspense Heather Graham:
The Forgotten (August 2015) and The Hidden (October 2015).
Packed with deadly intrigue and spine-tingling suspense, catch up on the complete Krewe of Hunters series today!
Phantom Evil
Heart of Evil
Sacred Evil
The Evil Inside
The Unseen
The Unholy
The Unspoken
The Uninvited
The Night Is Watching
The Night Is Alive
The Night Is Forever
The Cursed
The Hexed
The Betrayed
Complete your collection!
If you love the Krewe of Hunters, then you won’t want to miss a moment of page-turning romantic suspense in New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham’s
Cafferty & Quinn novels.
Let the Dead Sleep
Waking the Dead
The Dead Play On
“Dark, dangerous and deadly! Graham has the uncanny ability to bring her books to life.”
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The Forgotten
by Heather Graham
Prologue
“Maria.”
Maria Gomez started at the sound of her name.
She’d thought she was alone.
She had been sitting in the darkness, just staring out at the night, when she’d heard her name spoken. She didn’t even turn at first. She was certain she had imagined it. Her name, spoken so softly, with such affection—by him.
Because all she did was think about Miguel.
She was so numb. She knew that her children worried about her, that her friends and family worried about her, and yet she could do nothing but stare out at the night. Her balcony was beautiful; she looked out over the walled and tree-laden backyard of the beautiful home she and Miguel had built together in Coconut Grove.
In doing so, she looked out over her life. The children had climbed the great banyan tree that grew so close to the house, just beyond the balcony. She and Miguel had hosted pool
parties for Little League teams, for the Brownies and Girl Scouts. They’d hosted Michelle’s engagement party and a shower for Magdalena when little Sophia had been due.
But the past was gone. The night was quiet. Only the mental echo of haunted laughter remained of the happiness that had once lived here. She knew that it was time for her to leave, too. Join the children up north, where none of them would be happy—but where they would be safe.
Miguel was gone. He had been the great force in the family. She was empty without him, empty of all the things that made a family strong. She hadn’t even been eighteen when she had married him; they’d had nearly twenty-five years together. She had always trusted him.
He’d always been honest with her.
Some said that he had been a very bad man; Maria knew that wasn’t true. He had gotten swept up into bad things with bad men, but he had never hurt anyone himself; he had simply been born at the wrong place at the wrong time.
It had felt like a knife in her heart when she’d read the reports of his death in the paper; he had died as such a man might, the press—apparently desperate to be as dramatic as possible—had reported. His death had been accompanied—literally—by the same searing flame of violence with which he had lived. Doused with accelerants and burned beyond recognition, burned to cinders. Maria didn’t even know if he’d been killed before the fire—she prayed he had been.