Oath of Honor

“Then let’s finish getting you wired so we can find out what the

hell is going on and put a stop to it.”

“Let’s do that.”

“Do I have to say be careful?”

“I don’t mind when you do, but I promise I will be. And I’ll see

you at the end of the night.”

Evyn’s lips parted slightly, her face flushing. “I’d like that. A

lot.” The tightness in Wes’s belly warmed her until she was close to

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forgetting everything except the softness of Evan’s mouth and the taste

of her skin. She pulled away. “Good.”

“Don’t take any chances,” Evyn whispered.

“Don’t worry. We have unfinished business, and I plan to take care

of it.”

v

“Can I get you a drink?” Jennifer took Wes’s coat and hung it on

a wrought-iron coat tree just inside the door of her town house.

“Scotch and water would be great,” Wes said. The town house

in Adams Morgan was small but impeccably restored. The hardwood

floors gleamed, the walls were painted in nineteenth-century period

colors, the wood staircase leading to the second floor was adorned with

a hand-carved newel post and banister. The furniture and thick area

rugs were understated but obviously expensive. Jennifer lived well on

her military salary.

“Have a seat, I’ll be right back.” Jennifer disappeared through

a door beyond the staircase that Wes assumed led to the kitchen. She

settled on the sofa and studied the books on the floor-to-ceiling shelves

opposite her. American classics for the most part, a few contemporary

titles. Nothing to help define Jennifer as an individual. On the short

Metro ride, Jennifer had asked about her most recent posting and how

she was finding the job. The kind of casual conversation individuals

getting to know each other had. At one point as they walked, Jennifer

had slipped her hand through Wes’s arm, an invitation or maybe a

query. Wes pressed her arm closer to her body, securing Jennifer’s

hold, signaling—she hoped—interest. Jennifer had responded by

leaning into her shoulder a little more and squeezing her arm.

“Here you go.” Jennifer held out a crystal rock glass with two

inches of dark amber liquid inside and sat on the sofa next to Wes with

a glass of wine.

Wes sipped the scotch. Smoky, dense, expensive. “Thanks.”

Jennifer sighed. “This is nice. How about I order in? There’s a

great little restaurant down the street that delivers quickly.”

“Sure, unless you’re too tired. I can go—”

“No.” Jennifer pressed her palm to Wes’s thigh. “Not now that

I’ve got you here. I’ll get you the menu.”

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“Don’t bother. Order what you like—surprise me.”

Jennifer smiled. “I plan to.” She rose and set her wineglass on the

end table. “I’ll be right back.”

When Jennifer returned, Wes asked, “So where does your sister

live?” “Ohio,” Jennifer answered immediately. “She and her husband

have a dairy farm there.”

“Just you and her or a big family?”

“Just us. My parents met later in life and they’re both gone now.”

“Sorry.”

“I was looking forward to my sister and her family coming here,

but her husband’s mother needed emergency gallbladder surgery. That

put an end to the Christmas plans. What about you?”

“Three sisters. I would’ve gone home for the holidays—I generally

take my annual leave at this time of year—but I’m here.”

“You didn’t have much notice, I guess.” Jennifer cradled the

wineglass in one hand, drew her legs beneath her on the sofa, and rested

her free left hand on Wes’s thigh.

Wes tightened automatically and Jennifer made a sound as if she

were purring. Wes tried to remember the question as Jennifer’s fingers

stroked slowly up and down the inside of her leg. “I wasn’t expecting

this job, true.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here.” Jennifer leaned into Wes a little

more. “They certainly got you on board at lightning speed.”

“I’m glad it wasn’t a drawn-out process.”

“I guess they explained what happened to Len—the heart attack

out of the blue?”

Wes chose her words carefully. Jennifer might be searching—

trying to find out if Wes had any suspicions about O’Shaughnessy’s

death—or her questions could simply be curiosity. Somehow,

though, Wes doubted it. “Nothing unusual on his post. Probably an

arrhythmia.”

“You just never expect it, when someone’s in such good shape—”

Jennifer’s cell rang. “Oh, sorry. That must be the restaurant. They

always forget to ask about the hot sauce.” She grabbed her phone.

“Hold on. Hello?”

Jennifer frowned. “I’m sorry. Let me just take this—it’s a friend

from out of town.”

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“Of course,” Wes said as Jennifer rose. “Take your time.”

“Hi, Tom,” Jennifer said, walking toward the kitchen.

Wes hesitated, uncertain how good her audio would be a room

away through the old thick walls. She got up and walked toward the

kitchen, pausing outside the archway.

“Ellie told me you’d be calling. Are you in town long?”