A short laugh escaped her. “Uh … okay. Thanks? I think. Or should I be mad?”
He kissed her. A leisurely kiss that made her toes curl and her heart pound. When he pulled back, his eyes glittered. “Don’t be mad.”
“Okay.” She grinned, then sobered. “Does this mean I don’t have to buy a horse?”
It was his turn to blink. “Huh?”
“It was a joke. Lydia McCarthy? You’ve been dying to ask me out. So why haven’t you? Because I don’t have horses?”
“No!” He laughed and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “How do you know that I’ve been dying to ask you out?”
“Kevin said so.”
“The brat.” He said the words fondly, with just a hint of huskiness.
“So what held you back?”
“Derek.”
Izzy frowned. “Now there’s a brat for you. What did he say?”
He shrugged. “Just that you were focused on your work and doing a good job and I’d be a distraction.”
“I’m going to hurt him.”
“Why?”
She kissed him. Another sweet kiss that left them both wanting more. Then she smiled. “That’s why.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
He drew in a breath and took a step back. “So. You want to watch the election?”
“What election?”
“Iz—”
“I know. I’m teasing.”
“Actually, I don’t want to watch the election. Watching it’s not going to change the outcome—nor the fact that there will be a do-over. I want you to tell me about Sinclair.”
She landed back on earth with a hard thud. “Oh. Wow. Okay.”
“Unless you just don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. There’s not a whole lot to tell, actually. I met Mick when I pulled him over for speeding. He begged me to let him off with a warning, so I did, since he hadn’t been drinking or anything. Turns out he was a paramedic and our paths just hadn’t crossed. A couple of weeks later, they did. I was first on the scene to a drive-by shooting that left two people dead and one injured. Mick was the paramedic. After it was all said and done, he asked for my number. I gave it to him.”
“Sounds … normal.”
“I know.” She shrugged. “We dated for about three months and it just wasn’t happening for me. He acted really possessive right from the get-go. I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore and he talked me into coming to his house to discuss it. When I got there, he pulled a knife and said how much he loved me and how he couldn’t live without me.”
“Izzy,” Ryan whispered. He pulled her to him and she shuddered but was surprised to find that the telling didn’t make her want to hurl anymore.
“So, I talked him down. He cried like a baby, gave me the knife, and let me call the cops. At the trial, I testified on his behalf and he was hospitalized. He was diagnosed with a mental illness about five years ago. When he had this particular psychotic break, he’d not been taking his meds. Which makes a huge difference for him. While he was in the hospital, he had good doctors, counseling, and got back on his medicine.” She shook her head. “Now, I’m sure that was all just an act to avoid prison. He played their game and won.”
“A sociopath.”
“Very much so.”
“But he let you go, knowing he’d be taken into custody.”
“Yes. But he also knew he could manipulate me, the system, and any doctors he’d be required to see. Which he did. He got cushy hospital time instead of prison.”
He gathered her closer. “Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
“I know.”
The door opened and Izzy’s father stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. “What are you two up to?”
“Just getting ready to turn on the election,” Izzy said as she walked into the den with Ryan on her heels.
Her father nodded and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll get the popcorn, although it’s probably a waste of time watching the results. The election is invalid, if you ask me. They’re just going to have to redo the whole thing due to the threats against Eric.”
“Probably.”
A knock on the door had Izzy doing a U-turn to answer it. She found David outside on the front porch. He shot her a smile and handed her a bag of chocolate. “Ryan invited me.”
“Oh yes! Come in. We have something for you.”
“For me?”
“Uh-huh. Ryan, come here.”
When Ryan walked in and spotted David, he grinned. “Hey, glad you could make it.”
“Sure. Glad to be asked.”
Ryan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small envelope. “These are for you.”
“What?” He opened the tab and pulled out the contents. And his eyes went wide. “Seriously? The Carolina-Clemson game? On the fifty-yard line? I don’t know what to say.”
“We’re overlooking the fact that you’re going to pull for Clemson,” Izzy said.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, “you went above and beyond to help with Kevin’s case.”
David nodded and sobered. “Sorry it was necessary, but glad to do it.”
They walked into the den as Chloe and Hank arrived next, followed by Brady. Even Ruthie managed to get away from the hospital, where she said she’d just checked on Derek and he was sleeping comfortably.
Izzy sank onto the leather sofa and propped her feet on the ottoman. Ryan settled in beside her and snaked an arm around her shoulders.
She leaned her head against his chest and sighed. Life without Kevin was going to be hard, but they’d make it.
Together.
Ryan kissed the top of her head and looked around the room at the people who’d been like his extended family. He loved them all and knew Izzy felt the same way about his family. “How long do we have to date before you’ll agree to get engaged?” he asked in a low whisper.
She froze and he wondered if he’d just scared her off. Then she turned her head and put her lips close to his ear. “At least a week. I don’t want you to think I’m desperate or anything.”
Ryan chuckled and hugged her close.
He was the one who was desperate. Desperate to make her happy, to keep her safe, and to let her continue to grow into the person she was meant to be.
Her fingers curled around his and within minutes her breathing was slow and easy. He settled in to watch the election—and to watch her sleep.
It was a good night. She and her mother were alive.
And he and Izzy had a future to look forward to.
Thanks, God.
That was his last thought before his eyes closed and he drifted into slumber.
Epilogue
ONE YEAR LATER
Cathy stood next to Izzy and placed a sisterly arm across her shoulders. “You’ve got yourself a good husband.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“And he got a great wife.”
“Thanks, Cathy,” she said softly. “That means a lot.” She glanced at the building where Kevin’s life had drained out of him a year ago today. “Kevin would be proud.”
“He would be even more proud that you went to Xtreme Flips and did a back flip on the trampoline.”
She grinned. “Yeah, he would be, wouldn’t he?” She’d only done it for him. Because she hoped he’d been watching and cheering.
“I heard Reuben died.”
“Yes.” The man had lived through sixteen surgeries over the past year and finally succumbed to a blood infection just last week. “I hope he’s at peace now.”
Sadness flickered in Cathy’s gaze. “Me too.”
Unable to talk due to the damage to his face, Reuben had typed many letters, penning his regret and begging the Marshall family’s forgiveness. They’d given it. “I think he knew he wasn’t going to live much longer.”
“Seems that way.”
Ryan stepped up to them and pulled Izzy away from Cathy. �
�Go find someone else to hug. I got this one covered.”
Cathy laughed as Izzy happily slipped into his arms. Ryan’s parents and the rest of the family also pulled into the parking lot.
Izzy’s mother walked over, a smile curling her lips. “What a happy day.” She turned to Ryan. “You’ve done a good thing here.”
Ryan breathed deep. “Thanks. I almost can’t believe it’s really happening. All but four of the beds are filled up. We’ve got the cook, the cleaning crew, and a fully grant-funded doctor and nurse for at least a year. As well as therapy dogs and two rotating psychiatrists.”
“People were generous,” Izzy said. The fundraiser had been held six months ago.
Over the next few minutes, the crowd grew until the parking lot was full. Ryan stepped up to the podium and pulled the microphone toward him. “Thank you all for coming.”
Everyone stilled and soon the chatter stopped. A news team moved closer. “As you know, my brother Chris Marshall died when his convoy hit an IED two and a half years ago. Later, my family learned that he and a friend of his, Jonathan Gill, had purchased this warehouse and planned to open up a shelter for homeless vets. This place is also where my brother Kevin was shot and killed just last year. All he ever wanted was to make this world a better place. That’s all both of them wanted—and died doing.”
Ryan cleared his throat and took a breath. Izzy wanted to comfort him but knew he had the strength to do this.
He looked up. “Today, I’m very proud to see their dream become a reality. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Gill and Marshall Second Chances House.”
Applause thundered through the parking lot as Izzy expertly snipped the ribbon. It fluttered to the ground and the crowd cheered again.
Izzy’s heart was full. That was the only way she knew how to describe it. After the failed assassination attempt on her mother, Felicia’s death, the “do-over” election and Mayor Cotterill’s win, and her wedding two months ago, Izzy wasn’t sure life would ever settle down, but it had. A fact she was grateful for.
Lilianna and Chloe walked over. “This is amazing,” Chloe said with a quick hug.
“I know.”
The media pressed in. Izzy saw a young man making a beeline toward her as soon as Ryan stepped away from the microphone. “Hey, you’re Isabelle St. John, aren’t you?”
“I am.”
“I’m a reporter for The State. Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”
Ryan walked up and put his arm around her. “This guy bothering you?”
Izzy studied the reporter’s open and guileless eyes. “No, not at all. What questions do you have?”
“Well, it’s been a year since you were nearly thrown off a building, then out of a helicopter, and also kidnapped at gunpoint with your mother. How has life been treating you since then?”
Izzy bit her lip against the emotions his words brought to the surface, then she smiled and shrugged. “It’s been boring. Wonderfully, deliciously boring.”
“Hey! What?” Ryan spun her to face him and she laughed.
“Well, compared to being dangled off a parking garage, and nearly rolling out of a helicopter a thousand feet in the air, and having a gun pointed at my head, I’d say everything else has been pretty boring.”
Ryan’s mouth worked. Then he snapped his lips together and shrugged. “Okay, as long as you’re safe with your feet on solid ground, I’m happy to go with boring.”
“Me too.”
The reporter nodded. “Boring it is. You got anything else?”
“Just that boring has never been more exciting and I’m looking forward to many more years of it,” Ryan said.
And he kissed his wife.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for joining me on Ryan and Izzy’s journey for justice and love. While I’ve set the story in Columbia, South Carolina, I have to admit to some author licensure. The city of Columbia, where I went to college at the University of South Carolina, is divided up into five regions: East, West, North, South, and Metro. In this story, since I had some dirty cops, I didn’t want them to be in any of those regions, so I took the liberty of creating my own region for the purpose of this story. Midtown region doesn’t exist in Columbia, so for those of you who are from the city, please know it wasn’t a mistake, it was intentional. I love our officers and I fully back those in blue, so I didn’t want to offend anyone by placing dirty cops in a real region! Anyway, I also took some other liberties, and those of you who are native to the city will recognize them. I hope this doesn’t take away your enjoyment of the story and that you are eagerly looking forward to the next installment. Chloe and Hank are chomping at the bit to get into a book, so they’re next! Again, thank you for allowing me the honor of creating these stories and for inviting me into your lives for a short time. I don’t take it for granted and I’m very humbled by it. God bless you and I wish you many hours of reading.
Dedicated to all of the officers who serve daily, placing their lives on the line so that I don’t have to. According to the National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial Fund, “A total of 1,512 law enforcement officers died in the line of duty during the past 10 years, an average of one death every 63 hours or 151 per year. There were 143 law enforcement officers killed in the line of duty in 2016” (the year that I wrote most of this story). My heart breaks for those families of the fallen and my prayers go up daily for those who serve—including several of my and my husband’s family members. We love you and support you. Do good and stay safe while you protect and serve.
Blessed are the peacemakers: for they shall be called the children of God.
Matthew 5:9
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 lips, 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 shoulders, 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 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 give him the 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 she 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?”
“Sure, but 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.”
Oath of Honor Page 29
