by Radclyffe
Oath of Honor
Radclyffe
bold strokes books
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or
given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this
work.
Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.
Oath Of hOnOr
Acclaim for Radcly f fe’s Fiction
2010 RWA / FF&P Prism award winner Secrets in the Stone “is a
strong, must read novel that will linger in the minds of readers long
after the last page is turned.”— Just About Write
Foreword Review Book of the Year finalist and IPPY silver medalist
Trauma Alert “is hard to put down and it will sizzle in the reader’s
hands. The characters are hot, the sex scenes explicit and explosive,
and the book is moved along by an interesting plot with well drawn
secondary characters. The real star of this show is the attraction
between the two characters, both of whom resist and then fall head
over heels.”— Lambda Literary Reviews
Lambda Literary Finalist Best Lesbian Romance 2010 features
“stories [that] are diverse in tone, style, and subject, making for
more variety than in many, similar anthologies…well written, each
containing a satisfying, surprising twist. Best Lesbian Romance series
editor Radclyffe has assembled a respectable crop of 17 authors for this
year’s offering.”— Curve Magazine
In Benjamin Franklin Award finalist Desire by Starlight “Radclyffe
writes romance with such heart and her down-to-earth characters not
only come to life but leap off the page until you feel like you know
them. What Jenna and Gard feel for each other is not only a spark but
an inferno and, as a reader, you will be washed away in this tumultuous
romance until you can do nothing but succumb to it.”— Queer Magazine
Online
2010 Prism award winner and ForeWord Review Book of the Year
Award finalist Secrets in the Stone is “so powerfully [written] that the
worlds of these three women shimmer between reality and dreams…A
strong, must read novel that will linger in the minds of readers long
after the last page is turned.”— Just About Write
Lambda Literary Award winner Stolen Moments “is a collection
of steamy stories about women who just couldn’t wait. It’s sex when
desire overrides reason, and it’s incredibly hot!”— On Our Backs
Lambda Literary Award winner Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
“weaves an intricate tapestry about passion and commitment between
lovers. The story explores the fragile nature of trust and the sanctuary
provided by loving relationships.”— Sapphic Reader
Lambda Literary Award Finalist Justice Served delivers a “crisply
written, fast-paced story with twists and turns and keeps us guessing
until the final explosive ending.”— Independent Gay Writer
Lambda Literary Award finalist Turn Back Time “is filled with
wonderful love scenes, which are both tender and hot.”— MegaScene
Applause for L.L. Raand’s
Midnight Hunters Series
“Raand has built a complex world inhabited by werewolves, vampires,
and other paranormal beings…Raand has given her readers a complex
plot filled with wonderful characters as well as insight into the hierarchy
of Sylvan’s pack and vampire clans. There are many plot twists and
turns, as well as erotic sex scenes in this riveting novel that keep the
pages flying until its satisfying conclusion.”— Just About Write
“Once again, I am amazed at the storytelling ability of L.L. Raand aka
Radclyffe. In Blood Hunt, she mixes high levels of sheer eroticism
that will leave you squirming in your seat with an impeccable multi-
character storyline all streaming together to form one great read.”
— Queer Magazine Online
“The Midnight Hunt has a gripping story to tell, and while there are also
some truly erotic sex scenes, the story always takes precedence. This is
a great read which is not easily put down nor easily forgotten.”— Just
About Write
“Are you sick of the same old hetero vampire / werewolf story plastered
in every bookstore and at every movie theater? Well, I’ve got the
cure to your werewolf fever. The Midnight Hunt is first in, what I
hope is, a long-running series of fantasy erotica for L.L. Raand (aka
Radclyffe).”— Queer Magazine Online
“Any reader familiar with Radclyffe’s writing will recognize the
author’s style within The Midnight Hunt, yet at the same time it is
most definitely a new direction. The author delivers an excellent
story here, one that is engrossing from the very beginning. Raand has
pieced together an intricate world, and provided just enough details for
the reader to become enmeshed in the new world. The action moves
quickly throughout the book and it’s hard to put down.”— Three Dollar
Bill Reviews
By Radcly f fe
Romances
Innocent Hearts
Fated Love
Promising Hearts
Turn Back Time
Love’s Melody Lost
When Dreams Tremble
Love’s Tender Warriors
The Lonely Hearts Club
Tomorrow’s Promise
Night Call
Love’s Masquerade
Secrets in the Stone
shadowland
Desire by Starlight
Passion’s Bright Fury
Honor Series
Justice Series
Above All, Honor
A Matter of Trust (prequel)
Honor Bound
Shield of Justice
Love & Honor
In Pursuit of Justice
Honor Guards
Justice in the Shadows
Honor Reclaimed
Justice Served
Honor Under Siege
Justice for All
Word of Honor
The Provincetown Tales
Safe Harbor
Winds of Fortune
Beyond the Breakwater
Returning Tides
Distant Shores, Silent Thunder
Sheltering Dunes
Storms of Change
First Responders Novels
Trauma Alert
Firestorm
Oath of Honor
Short Fiction
Collected Stories by Radclyffe
Erotic Interludes: Change Of Pace
Radical Encounters
Edited by Radclyffe:
Best Lesbian Romance 2009–2011
Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.:
Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments
Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love
Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions
Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games
Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery
Romantic Interludes 2: Secrets
Breathless: Tales of Celebration
Women of the Dark Streets
By L.L. Raand
Midnight Hunters
The Midnight Hunt
Blood Hunt
Night Hunt
Visit us at www.boldstro
kesbooks.com
Oath Of hOnOr
by
RADCLY f FE
2012
oath of honor
© 2012 By Radclyffe. all Rights ReseRved.
isBN 13: 978-1-60282-712-7
This ElEcTronic Book is PuBlishEd By
Bold sTrokEs Books, inc.
P.o. Box 249
VallEy Falls, ny 12185
FirsT EdiTion: July 2012
This 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 PErsons,
liVinG or dEad, BusinEss EsTaBlishMEnTs, EVEnTs, or localEs
is EnTirEly coincidEnTal.
This Book, or ParTs ThErEoF, May noT BE rEProducEd in any
ForM WiThouT PErMission.
cRedits
EdiTors: ruTh sTErnGlanTz and sTacia sEaMan
ProducTion dEsiGn: sTacia sEaMan
coVEr dEsiGn By shEri ([email protected])
Acknowledgments
Some characters live on in the back of an author’s mind, waiting for the
right story to come along in which to make an appearance. The First
Responders series is a group of stories linked by the theme of featuring
those who serve on the “front lines”: firefighters, law enforcement
agents, medics, soldiers, environmental engineers, and many others.
When I conceived of the idea of writing about the First Doctor, the
physician assigned to the president of the United States, I instantly
thought of the characters I had created in the Honor series as natural
cast members, and thus this crossover novel was born. This is a stand-
alone spin-off from the Honor series, with a new central main pairing,
but I think those of you who know the Honor series will be happy to see
a few old friends. Old friends or new, I hope you enjoy!
Thanks go to Sandy Lowe, for shouldering a gargantuan task with
energy, enthusiasm, and remarkable calm; to author Nell Stark for close
reading and expert advice; to Ruth Sternglantz for editing with insight
and dedication; to Stacia Seaman, for being the one I count on in the
final stretch; and to my first readers Connie, Eva, Jenny, and Paula for
reading the early drafts and never failing to encourage.
Sheri shines, and the covers are always proof of that. Thanks for a great
one.
And to Lee, who never falters— Amo te.
Radclyffe, 2012
For Lee, for patience, understanding, and belief
Oath Of hOnOr
chapter One
Wes glanced at her watch as she turned off the coast road onto
the narrow causeway leading to Whitley Island. 1142. With
luck, she wouldn’t be late. Luck wasn’t something she usually relied on.
She believed in schedules and ran her life by the clock. Unfortunately,
death had a way of interrupting even the most finely tuned schedules.
Until thirty-six hours ago, she’d been looking forward to spending
her upcoming annual leave with her mother and sisters over Christmas,
not dealing with a new job, no place to live, and no idea of what the
next day would bring. She definitely hadn’t planned on attending the
wedding of the year.
All that had changed when she’d gotten a call informing her she
was at the top of a very short list for a job most people in the navy,
let alone the nation, had never even heard of. The anonymity of the
position didn’t bother her—in fact, she preferred working alone and
was happy contributing behind the scenes. The next rung in her planned
career ladder had been a professorship at the Uniformed Services
University where she was stationed. She’d joined the navy because
she’d needed the scholarship to go to medical school, and while she
liked the structure, she was an academic at heart. She wanted to teach,
take care of her patients, and let others wage war. She hadn’t been sure
she wanted a job that was going to throw her into close contact with the
most powerful people in the world on a daily basis. She’d asked for a
day to think it over—they’d given her four hours.
Heading into an unknown situation without the proper preparation
made her wary. Order, discipline, and perseverance had brought her
• 13 •
RADCLY fFE
from her working-class neighborhood in South Philadelphia to the
United States Naval Academy at Annapolis and finally to the National
Military Medical Center in Bethesda. Knowing what she faced—in the
ER, in the field, in life—kept her cool and in control. If she never relied
on anyone or anything to run interference for her, she had no one to
hold accountable for the outcome except herself.
She’d called her best friend Emory for advice—not just because
she’d known Emory since they’d shared a cadaver at Penn, but because
Emory knew intimately the landscape and the people Wes would be
spending every moment of her life with for the next year, or maybe the
next five.
“Are you kidding, Wes?” Emory had said when Wes reached her
en route to the island. “It’s an amazing opportunity. God, you’ll have
a front-and-center for events that might change the future of the whole
world. And you’ll be doing what you’re trained to do.”
“But I’m a teacher, not a clinician,” she’d protested.
“Uh, excuse me—don’t you teach trauma care to military medical
personnel?”
“Yes, but—”
“And didn’t you spend ten months supervising a field hospital—”
“Yes, but—”
“And—”
“Emory,” Wes said patiently, “I suck at politics.”
“Huh.” Emory fell silent for a moment. “This is true.”
“So—”
“Should I mention honor and duty and—”
Wes sighed. “No. I already considered that.”
“And?”
And she’d said yes to this new job because to do otherwise
seemed impossible. She’d rarely been faced with impossible decisions,
and she wasn’t sure yet how she felt about a situation she didn’t
control. Nevertheless, she’d called her boss, Rear Admiral Cal Wright,
and said she was honored to accept, and he’d passed the word up the
chain of command. Her final security interview wasn’t scheduled until
tomorrow, but she’d been told to liaise with her new unit today. Several
teleconferenced interviews and a lot of rushed paperwork later, here
she was.
Short of any more surprises, she’d be moving her hastily packed
• 14 •
Oath Of hOnOr
belongings to a government-provided apartment within walking
distance of the White House as soon as she could arrange movers. Until
then, she’d be in a hotel. She was used to moving at short notice, but
she usually knew what she faced.
1155. In five minutes, she’d find out.
She slowed her rental car as a red pickup truck pulling a battered
fishing boat on a rickety trailer edged onto the narrow two-lane in front
of her. She could just make out a hard-packed-dirt boat ramp half-hidden
in a narrow strip of pines separating the winding coast road from the
pristine shore o
n the ocean side of the island. The pickup headed in the
opposite direction, probably bound for the huge marina she’d passed
a half mile back. The marina boatslips, marine offices, and waterside
cabins that ringed a narrow-necked inlet were the only commercial
development she’d seen since leaving the mainland.
Mentally she ran down the stats she’d received by e-mail that
morning. Whitley Island was privately owned and home to one of the
largest private military contractors in the nation. Tanner Whitley had
inherited Whitley Industries on the death of her father over a decade
before, and she’d expanded into government security as American
geopolitics exploded globally. Personal info on Whitley was scant.
She lived with a female naval officer, and from what Wes had seen
of the island, industrialization had not followed Tanner Whitley home.
The few visible private residences were separated by large tracts of
untouched evergreen forests and set well back from the undulating
shoreline along the Atlantic. The place was wild and beautiful, even
snow-covered and frozen under the December winter.
As she’d been driving, the already scant signs of habitation
gradually disappeared. When she reached the northern end of the island,
the narrow road ended in a cul-de-sac bordering a wooded property.
The drive leading up to a pair of closed ten-foot-high wrought-iron
gates set into a natural stone wall was congested with signs of high-
level security. Unmarked black SUVs with smoked windows lined the
turnaround. A man and a woman, both in dark suits, monochromatic
shirts, and dark glasses, stood side by side in front of the gates.
Squiggly radio feeds running from behind their left ears and
steely expressions pegged them as security. The discreet lapel pins,
conservative suits, and all-American good looks said federal agents.
These weren’t rent-a-cops or gun-for-hire mercenaries. The man was
• 15 •
RADCLY fFE
six foot four and on the lean side. Wes would have pegged him for
a runner, except the broad shoulders and solid thighs that stretched
his not-off-the-rack suit said serious weight training. The woman was
maybe five-six or seven and looked toned and fit, but next to him, she
looked downright delicate. Wes doubted she was. Her tailored jacket
and pants, crisp white opened-collared shirt, and low-heeled black
boots screamed style while being completely functional. Definitely