Oath of Honor 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 978-1-4934-1253-2

  Scripture quotations are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  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.

  “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 the men and women in blue.

  To all of the law enforcement workers who risk everything to keep us safe.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Endorsements

  Dedication

  Oath of Honor

  Thursday

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  Friday

  8

  9

  10

  Saturday

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  Sunday

  20

  21

  Monday

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  Tuesday

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  Epilogue

  Letter to Reader

  Sneak Peek from Called to Protect

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by Lynette Eason

  Back Ads

  Back Cover

  Thursday

  1

  Officer Izzy St. John plopped down at the table of one of Columbia, South Carolina’s, finest Chinese restaurants and opened the fast-food carton of General Tso’s chicken and white rice. The bell above the door rang and she glanced over her shoulder to see Chloe and her K-9, Hank, enter. “Hey. Here’s yours.” Izzy pushed the unopened food to her sister.

  “Great. I’m starving.” Chloe took the seat opposite her and opened her carton. Hank settled on the floor at her feet, while Chloe took a bite and sighed her enjoyment.

  “Pork roast and mushrooms,” Izzy said with a grimace. “Nasty. How are we even related?” Chloe, one of Izzy’s five siblings, was two years older.

  “You don’t know what’s good,” Chloe said once she swallowed.

  “I know what fungus is and there’s no way we’re meant to eat it.”

  “I beg to argue with that,” a voice said. Izzy turned once more to see Ruthie, another sister, standing there, still decked out in her scrubs. At least they didn’t have blood on them this time. Ruthie sat in the third seat and opened the food Izzy slid in front of her. “Mushrooms have many redeeming qualities,” Ruthie said. “They have selenium. It’s good for your bladder.”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “I don’t care. I’m not eating them.”

  “How about they’re rich in vitamin D and boost your immune system?” Ruthie took a bite.

  “There are other ways to do both without having to eat fungus,” Izzy said and opened her can of Coke.

  This time Chloe wrinkled her nose. “You won’t eat something healthy, but you’ll pour that into your system. You make no sense at all.”

  It was an old argument. A comfortable one.

  The door swung open once more and Brady, Izzy’s brother who was a former underwater criminal investigator turned homicide detective, joined them at the table. “What’s up, brats?”

  Ruthie raised a brow. “I finally break away from the hospital where I’m saving lives and this is the respect I get?”

  “From the head brat, no less,” Izzy murmured. Brady was the eldest of the St. John siblings.

  He shot her a wink and dug into his sweet and sour chicken. “So, Rude Ruthie, you cut anyone up today?”

  “Yes, two down, two to go.”

  Izzy caught the startled gaze of the customer just leaving the booth next to their table. “She’s a surgeon,” she hurried to reassure her. The woman’s obvious relief made Izzy giggle. Once she was out the door, Izzy threw her napkin at Brady. “Seriously, you’re rotten. You’ve got to realize not everyone gets our morbid St. John family humor.”

  “Sorry.” He didn’t look very sorry. He took another bite. “Who decided it was Chinese day anyway? I was kind of in the mood for Mexican.”

  “Derek decided,” Chloe said. “Remember? Every second Thursday of the month is Chinese. He insisted.”

  “And yet,” Brady said, “he’s not here.”

  Izzy frowned. “Anybody seen him lately? I’m kind of worried about him. He wasn’t at Mom’s this past Sunday.”

  Her siblings stopped eating and looked at one another.

  Chloe shook her head. “I haven’t seen him, now that you mention it.”

  “Me either,” Ruthie said.

  Brady leaned back. “That’s kind of weird.”

  Worry niggled at Izzy. “You think he’s all right?”

  Ruthie’s chuckle sounded forced. “Y’all need to stop. Derek’s probably on one of his undercover gigs again.”

  “Or got called out with the SWAT team,” Chloe murmured.

  Izzy sighed. Such was the life of a family in law enforcement. “You’re probably right. Hey, is Linc coming? I got him sweet and sour chicken.”

  Brady glanced at the clock on the wall. “He texted and said he was finishing up some paperwork and would be about ten minutes late.”

  Linc, second oldest in the St. John clan, had finally been assigned to the FBI field office in his home city. It had been one of his greatest joys to move back to be near his family once again and he never missed a Thursday lunch unless he just couldn’t help it.

  “So, who’s eating at Mom’s this Sunday?” Chloe asked.

  “I’ll be there,” Izzy said.

  The others chimed in their plans to attend the weekly lunch. Sometimes only a couple of them could make it. Sometimes they all could. No matt
er the number, the food was always there and waiting, thanks to their father, who had most weekends off from his law practice—and loved to cook.

  Izzy drew in a deep breath and glanced around the table. How she loved them. And admired them. Her phone buzzed and she unclipped it from its home on her belt.

  A text from Kevin, her partner.

  Can you go on a stakeout with me tonight?

  Yes, I guess. What’s going on?

  I’ll explain when you pick me up at 6:30.

  2

  The stakeout was a complete bust. Izzy’s stomach growled and she pressed a hand to it while she contemplated leaving.

  “I heard that,” her partner, Kevin Marshall, said from the passenger seat of the Ford Explorer.

  Izzy sighed. “People in China probably heard it. I’m starving.”

  “Sorry. Guess you blame me for that, huh?”

  “Completely.”

  Kevin had complained so loud and pitifully about his lack of dinner before rushing to the stakeout that she’d rolled her eyes and passed him her brown paper bag. “You’re the one that talked me into this. How is it I had time to fix some food and you didn’t?”

  “I’m a guy.”

  “So?”

  “So, I don’t think of things like that.”

  “That’s a bunch of nonsense and you know it.”

  “No, it’s not. It’s why every good man needs a good woman—or a good partner who knows how to cook.”

  “Right. We’ll leave that statement right there.”

  He’d grinned, pulled out her roast beef sandwich, and wolfed it down, followed by her chips and chocolate brownie. And now her stomach was mad at him—and her—for giving the food away.

  “How much longer do you want to sit here?” he asked.

  “This is your deal, Kev. Remember?”

  “Right. Let’s give it a few more minutes. Blackjack got out of prison last week but said the info was reliable.”

  “When did you start talking to Blackjack? You know he’s my CI. Why would he trust you?”

  “Because he trusts you. And you’re my partner. And he couldn’t find you. When he asked where you were, I told him you were indisposed.”

  “Indisposed?” She laughed, then frowned. “That wouldn’t be enough.”

  “Well, I might have shown him the picture of us going bungee jumping together and I might have told him the story of how I talked you into it.”

  “You did what? For real?”

  “Yeah. He laughed and said if you’d trust me enough to risk that, he’d trust me enough to talk to me.”

  “How much?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The innocent look didn’t fool her. “How much did it wind up costing you?”

  “A hundred bucks.”

  She gaped. “What? I’ve never paid him a dime for information.”

  “I pointed that out. Apparently you have to save his life to get the free stuff.”

  That sounded like Blackjack. She sighed. “You shouldn’t be spending your own money on this.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mind when I think it’s worth it,” he said. “He was adamant this was going down tonight. I just need to get the evidence to pass on to the detectives.”

  “Blackjack. He’s a card shark. What’s he doing hanging out with gun runners?” Izzy murmured.

  “I don’t know that they are gun runners. He said they were, but it could be anything. He wasn’t sure exactly what was going to happen, just that something was.”

  “Well, he’s never led me astray before.” She leaned her head against the window and thought about closing her eyes for a minute.

  “We should make the bust ourselves and get credit for the collar,” Kevin said. He practically vibrated with excitement.

  “Calm down, partner. Make what bust? Nothing’s happening. Anyway, we’re off duty with no backup. We’re not making any busts. This is an information-gathering stakeout, remember?”

  To herself she added, Maybe. It all depended on the situation.

  He grunted his disagreement. “What are we doing for your birthday?”

  “That’s two weeks away. And nothing.”

  He laughed. “Of course we are. What do you want to do?”

  “To have enough evidence to shut these guys down if what you say is true.”

  “Izzy, Izzy,” he said with a groan. “Please do not become such an old fuddy-duddy this early in your life. We’re going to Xtreme Flips, so put it on your calendar.”

  “That place with the trampolines? Are you trying to kill me?”

  “I took Lilianna there a couple of weeks ago. She loved it.”

  “Of course she loved it. She’s seventeen!”

  “So what? You act like you’re a hundred years old.” He paused. “Actually, I know a guy who’s a hundred. He went skydiving for his birthday last month.”

  “Kev—”

  “You went bungee jumping with me, but you won’t go jump on an itty-bitty trampoline?”

  “Death by bungee is instantaneous and most likely painless. I could be paralyzed for life if I land wrong on a trampoline. Have you looked at the statistics for injuries in those places? There’s a reason you have to sign a waiver releasing them of any responsibility.”

  He shook his head, as though completely disgusted with her cowardice. “I’m taking you. End of discussion. And don’t forget. Only twenty-three years to go.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You remember?”

  “Of course. And I’m holding you to it.”

  “Right.” As a teenager, she’d promised to marry him when she turned fifty if they were both still single.

  He cleared his throat. “Now. Did I tell you that I told Lincoln about this?” He waved a hand at the warehouse.

  “What? No. You neglected to mention that.”

  “I did.”

  “What’d he say?”

  He shrugged. “That he’d look into it.”

  “And you don’t want to wait on him?”

  “Nope.”

  Kevin’s eyes narrowed and Izzy could picture the conversation between the two men. One that would send Kevin out on his own, determined to prove he was right.

  “He told you there wasn’t anything he could do until you had something concrete, didn’t he?”

  “Yep.”

  Of course he had. She would have told him the same thing.

  Which was why she now found herself on a stakeout on her day off, allowing her partner and childhood friend to talk her into this.

  “What is it with older brothers anyway?” Kevin said.

  “What do you mean?”

  He lifted the binoculars to his eyes, then set them back on the dash. “They’re so bossy—and arrogant.”

  “Nah. They’ve just lived more years so they have more experience.”

  “Linc, maybe. But not Derek. He has no excuse. He’s, what … three minutes older than you?”

  “Two and a half.”

  “But still older. And he rubs it in your face every chance he gets.”

  She grimaced. Derek really did. “I’ll agree that he likes to share more than I like to listen.”

  Kevin cracked up. “You can be so diplomatic. You should go into politics.”

  Izzy couldn’t help the smile that lifted her lips. “I’ll leave that to Gabby.” Gabrielle Sinclair was her best friend and campaign manager to Melissa Endicott, the woman currently running for mayor. Which still stuck in Izzy’s craw. But that was for another time. “Derek just likes to push my buttons. It’s what brothers do. Especially to sisters. You know you drive Cathy nuts.”

  “That’s different. She’s older. Little brothers are supposed to drive their big sisters crazy. But older brothers? Being older also seems to turn them into know-it-alls.”

  She huffed a low laugh and refused to take up the complaint until Kevin changed course.

  “Speaking of Gabby, what’s up with her taking that job as campaign manager for Endicott?
”

  “She and Endicott went to school together, then served in the Army together. It’s a good chance for Gabby to make a name for herself.”

  But Kevin wasn’t listening anymore, he was studying the area, his tension palpable. “Blackjack better know what he’s talking about,” he muttered.

  “He does if his track record is anything to go by, so chill.”

  Izzy had met her confidential informant, Louis Harper, the night she pulled him from his burning home. She’d been patrolling his neighborhood after increased crime reports and had heard his cries for help. Since then, he’d been paying off his “debt” by feeding her information on various criminal activities for the past two years—in between the occasional visit to prison for minor infractions—and he’d yet to lead her astray.

  Izzy didn’t bother to tell him he didn’t owe her anything, that she’d simply been doing her job. She figured as long as he was willing to help her put the bad guys away, she wouldn’t argue about it.

  She picked up the binoculars from the dash and scanned the warehouse one more time. She’d found a prime parking spot. Across the street and far enough away not to attract attention, she had a good view of the front door and a partial view of the side of the building with the large sliding door. Right now that door was open, but she couldn’t see inside.

  Movement to the left caught her attention. A dark green Chevy Tahoe pulled around the curve and followed the gravel path to the side of the warehouse. It parked next to the black Ford pickup and the low-slung red Mustang convertible. Izzy hit record on the camera mounted on her dash.

  “You got the other camera?” she asked Kevin.

  “Charged and ready.”

  In addition to being her partner, Kevin was a very good amateur photographer.

  Two men climbed out of the Tahoe and Kevin lifted the camera to his eye. She heard the zoom lens whir.

  “I see a bulge that looks like a gun to me,” he said.

  “Always go with that assumption.”

  “Yeah. Actually, make that two. They both have them.” The shutter clicked multiple times as he snapped.