Critical Praise for
HANNAH ALEXANDER’S
Novels
SOLEMN OATH
“ Solemn Oath absolutely hit the ball out of the park. Hannah Alexander is going to have a hard time writing fast enough to keep up with reader demand.”
—Debi Stack
SACRED TRUST
“Alexander is great at drawing the reader into her story line and keeping them hooked until the resolution of the plot.”
— Christian Retailing
A KILLING FROST
“Running dialogue and a few twists will keep romantic suspense fans coming back for more.”
— Publishers Weekly
DOUBLE BLIND
“Native American culture clashes with Christian principles in the freshly original plot.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews
GRAVE RISK
“The latest in Alexander’s Hideaway series is filled with mystery and intrigue. Readers familiar with the series will appreciate how the author keeps the characters fresh and appealing.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews
FAIR WARNING
“The plot is interesting and the resolution filled with action.”
— Romantic Times BOOKreviews
Solemn Oath
Hannah Alexander
We wish to thank Joan Marlow Golan and her
excellent staff for giving us this opportunity to share
our books with a new reading audience.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Epilogue
Questions for Discussion
Prologue
L eonardo the lion lay cold in his cage. Splotches of rusty red-brown stained his coat around a bullet wound in his right side, and a grown man’s sobs echoed against the concrete wall that protected Leonardo’s inner sanctum.
Cowboy Casey knelt beside his pet, forehead pressed against the stained velvet shoulder, tears dampening the tawny fur. “My friend…why?”
With callused fingers he tested the stiffness of the lion’s well-fed ribs. Rigor mortis. The killer had probably struck before dawn, when Cowboy was taking his autumn load of exotic animals to the station for shipment.
“Who would do a thing like this? What kind of a cruel…” Cowboy knew the answer before the question completely formed in his mind. The muscles in his jaw hardened, and his teeth ground together as he fought against a sudden, overwhelming rage. “Berring!”
He exhaled an angry gush of air and jerked to his feet to pace across the cage. Of course Berring. Two weeks after that madman had moved into the neighboring farm this summer, a gaping hole mysteriously appeared in the bison pasture fence. Thank goodness for three brave buddies with herding skills.
Berring had also called the sheriff out twice in the past month with some wild-haired story about Leonardo roaming the woods at night. The sheriff knew better, and so did every farmer in Knolls County. Cowboy had never put his neighbors in danger from the powerful animals he raised on his ranch.
He pivoted and walked across to hunker down once more beside the big cat. Leonardo had been his most faithful pal for the past four years, in spite of the roughhousing that had gone too far and sent him to the E.R. a few times. It wasn’t Leonardo’s fault he had jaws with the impact of a backhoe.
And it wasn’t his fault a crazy man had been turned loose with a gun.
“He won’t get away with it, my friend,” Cowboy said as he grabbed up his hat and strode from the cage.
Off-duty fireman Buck Oppenheimer stepped through the front entrance of his favorite convenience store, the Pride of Knolls. He unfolded a ten-dollar bill to pay for his gasoline, looking around for Roxie, the regular weekday clerk. The place was deserted.
“Hey, Rox!” His voice carried over the tops of tightly packed shelves toward the back of the store. “Put your cigarette out and get back to work. Break’s over!”
He grinned to himself, waiting for her usual sharp comeback. He and Roxie had an ongoing rivalry about who could give the best insult. Roxie usually won, because Buck had been raised to treat all women like ladies. And Roxie was no lady.
There was no reply, but sure enough, he did smell smoke. He always smelled smoke in here. All the old farmers ignored the signs plastered by management on the windows and the front of the counter, and Roxie was the worst offender of the bunch. She always stated proudly that she’d been smoking two packs a day for fifty years, and management could fire her if they wanted. She’d been here for the past ten years. Truth was, management was scared of her.
But sixty-year-old Roxie didn’t come plunging through the squeaky swinging doors from the back the way she always did. Buck listened for the sound of a toilet flushing or of Roxie shuffling boxes around in the back. Could be she hadn’t heard him come in.
“Roxie?” He sniffed again and noticed that the smoke was stronger.
And different…sharper.
“Roxie!”
A faint popping, rushing, cracking sound reached him, then a heavy thump…and a muffled cry that sounded like a tomcat meowing.
A wisp of smoke slithered into the shopping area between the twin stockroom doors.
“Help!” came the tomcat’s voice again. It was Roxie.
Buck ran out the door and the few feet back to his truck. He radioed for backup, then grabbed his fire-resistant jacket and his ax and