Called to Protect Read online

  © 2018 by Lynette Eason

  Published by Revell

  a division of Baker Publishing Group

  PO Box 6287, Grand Rapids, MI 49516-6287

  www.revellbooks.com

  Ebook edition created 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.

  ISBN 978-1-4934-1395-9

  Scripture used in this book, whether quoted or paraphrased by the characters, is taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com

  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.

  Published in association with Tamela Hancock Murray, The Steve Laube Agency, 5025 N. Central Ave., #635, Phoenix, AZ 85012.

  Praise for Oath of Honor

  “This heart-racing, fast-action romantic suspense has it all. . . . Lynette Eason knows how to entice her fans and keeps them interested throughout the book. This is sure to become a beloved keeper.”

  RT Book Reviews

  “Although concerned and delicate with both grief and romance, Eason’s well-rounded story doesn’t spend too much time bogged down in either as the harrowing plot unfolds. Eason’s fans will enjoy this first installment of a promising new series.”

  Publishers Weekly

  “A great read with broad appeal, to even experienced cops and firefighters. Lynette Eason’s blend of realistic, fast-paced action, suspense, twists and turns, and dynamic characters make this a real page-turner.”

  Wayne Smith, FBI (retired)

  “Lynette Eason once again pens a gripping thriller with her latest book, Oath of Honor. I can’t wait for her next installment of the Blue Justice series!”

  Carrie Stuart Parks, award-winning author of A Cry from the Dust

  “Lynette Eason’s Oath of Honor promises to be the beginning of another roller-coaster ride series. Readers are going to love Isabelle and Ryan’s story while getting to know the entire St. John family. This engrossing novel will have them hooked from page one.”

  Lisa Harris, bestselling and Christy Award–winning author of The Nikki Boyd Files

  Dedicated to those who put their lives

  on the line day in and day out.

  Thank you for all you do.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Praise for Oath of Honor

  Dedication

  Oath of Honor

  Prologue

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  Sneak Peek from Code of Valor

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Lynette Eason

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  Prologue

  SIX MONTHS AGO

  MAY

  Sixteen-year-old Penny St. John smoothed the shirt over her slim waist and turned to admire herself in the mirror. He’d like the look. Just thinking about Carson Langston made her smile. She’d never had a real boyfriend before. She’d been more interested in gymnastics and running track, but Carson had caught her eye at the mall when he’d struck up a conversation with her in line at the pizza place.

  That had been three weeks ago. Tonight, he said he had a surprise for her. Anticipation swirled. She didn’t fancy herself in love. She was too practical for that, but she did like him a lot. Just yesterday he’d given her the gold bracelet she now wore on her left wrist.

  Penny pulled her phone from the back pocket of her shorts and tapped the Instagram app. Posing with pouty lip, she snapped a picture and posted it. Next, she grinned and posted that one. Wow. She looked good.

  With a giggle, she made her way downstairs and found her cousin, Linc St. John, in the kitchen with her brother, Damien. “Hey, you two, don’t you have anything better to do on a Friday night than sit around and talk cop stuff?”

  Damien frowned at her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Going out with a friend, why?”

  “Because you need to put on something besides that pajama top. And don’t you have a pair of jeans or something? Those shorts are too short.”

  She stuck her tongue out at him. “They are not. They come to mid-thigh. And this top is fine. It’s loose and comfortable.”

  “It shows too much skin.”

  “My shoulder, Damien. My bathing suit is more revealing and you know it. Seriously. You need to get a life.”

  “I have one. It’s my mission in life to watch out for you.”

  Penny rolled her eyes. “You mean harass me to death.”

  “Has Mom seen that shirt?”

  “Yes.” She walked over and kissed his forehead. “She helped me pick it out. I’ll be back before midnight. See ya. Bye, Linc.”

  “Bye, Pen. Be careful,” he said.

  He was more than twice her age, but he was one of her favorite cousins. She almost turned around and went to change, but truly, Damien knew as well as she did that the shirt was fine. He was just having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that she was growing up. And, honestly, she was grateful for his protective instincts even as she strained against them.

  The shirt was fine and Carson was waiting.

  “Who are you going out with?” Damien asked.

  “A friend,” she said again with a glance out the window. “And there he is. Talk to you later. Love you.”

  “His name, Penny.”

  “Carson Langston.” She stuck her tongue out and bolted out the door.

  She heard him yell her name as she dashed down the walkway, but she wasn’t about to let him have an opportunity to give Carson the third degree. How embarrassing.

  Just because Damien was twenty-four years old, he thought that made him her keeper. She was determined to prove it didn’t and that she could take care of herself.

  She shot a quick glance over her shoulder as she opened the door and her eyes locked on Damien’s. For a moment, she regretted the way she left and sighed. She’d apologize to him tomorrow. For now, she was going to enjoy the night. She slid into the car, turning toward Carson. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “Of course.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Anything for you.” He pressed the gas and pulled from the curb.

  “So, what’s my surprise?” she asked.

  “I’m taking you to meet a friend of mine.”

  She frowned. “Okay.”

  He laughed. “What? You don’t want to meet my friends?”

  “Of course, I just thought it was going to be the two of us.”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll have a blast. My friend is going to love you. Now relax.”

  Penny’s worries
eased at his friendly smile and twinkling blue eyes. “Fine, we’ll meet your friend, but then we’re going to go do something. Just you and me, okay?”

  Without taking his eyes from the road, he reached over and stroked her cheek. “Okay.”

  Ten minutes later, Carson wound through one of the nicest neighborhoods in Columbia. “Your friend lives here?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wow. What does he do?”

  “He’s in sales.”

  One mansion after the next passed her window. “What does he sell?”

  “Whatever will make him money.”

  “Hmm.” That sounded . . . weird. What did he mean by that?

  A kernel of unease curled in her belly. Carson took her hand and squeezed it, then lifted it and pressed his lips to her fingers. She sighed and smiled at him. He was so good to her.

  Then he was turning into a driveway that curved around to the front of a four-story home. “Do you want me to wait here? I’m not exactly dressed for anything fancy.”

  “You look awesome.”

  “How do you know this guy?”

  “I work for him. I just need to drop something off.”

  “Oh.”

  But he got out of the car without anything. Maybe it was a flash drive or something in his pocket. Or money. But why wouldn’t he just say so?

  He opened her door and held out his hand. She reached for it and he laced his fingers through hers as she followed him up the stone walkway to the front steps. The door opened before they reached the top and he released her hand.

  A man in his midthirties stood there with a wide smile on his face. “Come on in. So glad you’re here.”

  With Carson’s warm hand against the small of her back, Penny stepped inside the massive foyer. Marble beneath her feet and a bazillion-dollar chandelier above her head. Wow.

  The door shut behind them and the man’s smile faded. His eyes roamed over her and he shot a look at Carson. “Good, good. Nice.”

  Alarms instantly jangled. “Um . . . I don’t mean to be rude, but could I use your restroom?”

  The man lifted a brow, and at first she thought he was going to refuse, but then the smile returned. “Of course. Carson can show you the way.”

  “Thank you.”

  Carson gripped her hand, harder than he’d ever done before, and pulled her with him.

  “What are you doing?” She jerked out of his grasp. “That hurts.”

  Anger flashed in his eyes for a split second then disappeared. “Sorry.”

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “I mean, I can wait on the bathroom if I have to.” But she didn’t plan on it.

  Her willingness to please him did the trick and his features smoothed out. “No. Of course not. It’s fine, but don’t take forever.” He opened the door for her. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  Once inside the bathroom with the door shut, she pulled out her cell phone and tapped Damien’s name. The phone rang twice. “Penny?”

  “Damien, I think I need your help,” she whispered.

  “Where are you?”

  “At a house in—”

  The call dropped. With a frustrated groan, she glanced at the battery. It was full. She’d had it plugged in the entire time she was getting ready. She dialed her brother’s number again. And got nothing. The signal on her phone was gone. Had they done something to make it so she couldn’t call out? “No. Come on, come on, please.”

  She tapped a text to him even as she knew something was terribly wrong. Fear like she’d never felt before twisted inside her. She was so stupid. Every warning Damien had ever lectured on about human trafficking rang through her mind.

  But no. Carson wouldn’t do that, would he?

  Flashes of his behavior tonight confirmed her fear. She pressed send on the text and got the little message that it was unable to be delivered. Tears sprang to her eyes and she drew in a breath. She would not panic. She’d keep her cool.

  A knock on the door caused her to jerk. “I’ll be there in a minute.” She flushed the toilet and eyed the cabinet under the sink.

  “Come on, Penny.”

  “I’m washing my hands.” She turned the water on, reached under the cabinet, and pressed her hand against the base of the sink. She did the same near the back of the toilet bowl. Then she snagged a few hairs from her head and dropped them behind the picture on the wall. Her last act was to shut the sink off, take her cell phone, and type as much as she could before the next knock.

  “Penny! Come on! Do I need to come in there?” The knob rattled.

  It would have to be enough. He was going to kick the door in if she didn’t hurry up. She slid the phone under the large armoire-like corner cabinet, then stood.

  With a prayer on her lips, she opened the door. “What’s the rush, silly? I—”

  A liquid spray hit her in the face and she gasped. Exactly the wrong thing to do. Whatever he’d sprayed her with burned her lungs. Carson’s face blurred. “What—”

  She went to her knees before Carson caught her. “It’s okay, Penny, don’t fight it.”

  1

  PRESENT DAY

  THURSDAY, 11:00 AM

  NOVEMBER

  Officer Chloe St. John pulled her SUV to a stop on the Gervais Street Bridge behind the teeming chaos just ahead. A cargo van had crossed the double yellow line and gone headlight to headlight with an eighteen-wheeler, causing a minivan to slam into the rear left corner of the trailer. All in all, the fifteen-car pileup had caused multiple injuries and fatalities.

  She climbed out and the rain hit her in the face. Chloe shuddered. The torrential downpours that had hit Columbia over the last seventy-two hours had caused the water under the bridge to turn into a raging, turbulent force to be reckoned with. At least today only a light drizzle fell from the still-swollen gray clouds.

  And then the victims’ terror reached her. As did an explosive splash.

  “A second car just went over!”

  “Help me!”

  “Over here!”

  Sirens screamed. Rescuers shouted orders. Chloe raced to the edge of the bridge and looked over. Divers were already in the water. One of them was probably her brother, Brady. She sent up a silent prayer for his safety and the others’.

  She returned to her vehicle and released Hank, her Dutch shepherd K-9, from his special area, and he hopped down beside her, quivering with energy and ready to work. She scratched his silky ears. “Hold tight, boy. Let’s get our bearings.”

  EMS was already on the scene as well as multiple fire trucks and police cars. A helicopter hovered overhead. Chloe spotted a familiar face. Right where she said she’d be. “Izzy!”

  Her sister turned, tension lining her features. “Chloe, glad you’re here. Bring Hank.”

  Chloe and Hank trotted over to Izzy, who stood next to a woman holding an infant wrapped in a blue blanket. A paramedic rummaged through the bag on the ground. Chloe recognized the medic. Alice Johnson. The EMT looked at Izzy. “Can you bandage this?” A gash over the victim’s left eye looked like it needed stitches.

  “Yes. Go.” She took the bandage.

  Alice paused, then headed for her ambulance. “She needs a blanket. Hang on.”

  “Is your baby hurt?” Chloe asked the woman.

  “No.” The victim’s jaw trembled and shivers wracked her. “She’s fine, I think.” Shock. Alice passed Izzy a blanket and she wrapped it around the woman, who hunched under it, checking to make sure her baby was covered as well.

  “I’ve got to go.” She spun.

  “Hey, I need tape,” Izzy called.

  The woman tossed her a roll. “I’ll be back.”

  Priorities.

  “What’s going on besides the obvious?” Chloe asked.

  “We found drugs,” Izzy said. She held the white bandage to the woman’s head. “This thing is way too big. I need some scissors, and of course, she didn’t leave me any.”

  “Hold
on.” Chloe reached behind her service weapon into a small pocket on her holster and pulled out a Swiss army knife.

  Izzy took it and used the scissors to cut the bandage to size. She handed the knife back to Chloe, then taped the bandage to the woman’s head. With a soft pat to the bowed shoulder, she said, “Sit tight, okay? They’ll get you to the hospital as soon as they can.”

  Izzy stood and directed Chloe to the side of the road. “The drugs came from one of the vehicles and we need you and Hank to figure out which one. We suspect it’s the eighteen-wheeler sitting over there, but a cursory search hasn’t turned up any more and we’re too busy trying to help keep people alive to do a more thorough search.” Izzy was a detective, but she was also trained as a first responder. “The critical ones are being transported to the hospital immediately, of course, but we’re matching patients with cars, so we need Hank to do his thing. When we know which vehicle the drugs came from, we’ll know who to arrest. If the person’s still alive. So far we’ve got four DOAs and a couple of others who looked close to joining them.”

  “Where did you find the drugs?”

  “This way.”

  Chloe followed Izzy through the ruckus. She sidestepped two paramedics rushing past her and pushing a stretcher. Izzy stopped beside the vehicle that had slammed into the back of the eighteen-wheeler. White powder from a couple plastic bags lay in the middle of the lane. Which meant there was probably more where that had come from. Question was, where had it come from? The truck or the van or the SUV that had T-boned the van? Or had someone thrown it out when they realized cops were going to be covering the area?

  “You’re sure it’s drugs?”

  Izzy shrugged. “Figured Hank would tell us.”

  He took one whiff and sat. “There’s your answer.”

  “I’m stunned.” Izzy rolled her eyes. “Want to see if he can find any more?”

  “We’re on it.” Chloe led Hank to the damaged vehicle behind the tractor trailer. “Hank, find the dope.” Most commands were given in Dutch, but not this one. Hank went to work, sniffing the seats, the tires, the trunk.

  And got nothing.

  “This one’s clean,” Chloe said.

  She led him toward the cab of the eighteen-wheeler to have the trailer doors opened. Officers Josiah Henry and Olivia Nash had the driver out of the cab and were questioning him. The man looked to be unhurt, but it was obvious he wasn’t happy. “I’m going to be late making my delivery and I’m going to get fired. I need to get out of here now!”