The Weight of Honor

By Kristine Allen

THE WEIGHT OF HONOR

 

I'm Roman Prescott. As fifth generation Chicago PD and a member of the dedicated SWAT team, my life had no room for a relationship. I lived, breathed, and sh*t my career. With every call, I knew it could be my last.

Until Tawny Russo barreled into my life.

Feisty, sexy, and smart—she knew how to keep me on my toes. Unfortunately, she's a criminal defense attorney who spends her days defending the people I put behind bars.

A deadly stalker is closing in on her and one of her clients is Vince Dalton—my childhood friend. Our careers are clashing and one of us will end up in the crossfire. It's going to take everything I have to make sure we both make it out alive.

But such is the weight of honor.

 

 

This is the extended version of a short story found in the TNTNYC's Cuffed & Pinched Anthologies and the counter-story to M. Merin's The Weight of Blood.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Demented Sons Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201401191

Kristine Allen

Kristine Allen lives in beautiful Central Texas with her adoring husband. They have four brilliant, wacky and wonderful children. She is surrounded by twenty-six acres, where her seven horses, six dogs and three cats run the place. Kristine realized her dream of becoming a contemporary romance author after years of reading books like they were going out of style and having her own stories running rampant through her head.  She works as a nurse, but in stolen moments, taps out ideas and storylines until they culminate in characters and plots that pull her readers in and keep them entranced for hours.

Book preview

THE WEIGHT OF HONOR, 1st Edition Copyright 2021 by Kristine Allen, Demented Sons Publishing, LLC.

All Rights Reserved.

ISBN-13: 9798487724526

Published in the United States of America. First published October 24, 2021.

Cover Design: Avery Kingston, Ocean Graphics

Photographer: Jean Woodfin, JW Photography

Cover Model: Daniel Rengering

Editing: Darlene Tallman

Interior Formatting: Champagne Book Design

The purchase of this e-book, or book, allows you one legal copy for your own personal reading enjoyment on your personal computer or device. This does not include the right to resell, distribute, print or transfer this book, in whole or in part to anyone, in any format, via methods either currently known or yet to be invented, or upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content. For information, contact the author at [e-mail]. Thank you for supporting this author and her rights.

Warning: This book may contain offensive language, violence, adult, and sexual situations. Mature audiences only, 18+ years of age.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Other Books by Kristine Allen

About the Author

To M. Merin. Without you asking me to be your partner in crime, this book never would have existed. We’re friends forever now. Go with it… don’t make this awkward. Bahahaha!

Mom! Can Vince play for a while and stay for supper?

My mom came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a towel. Who’s Vince? she asked as her head tipped in curiosity. That’s when she saw the boy who I’d brought home.

Holding my backpack straps, I wasn’t sure how much to say. He’s new at school. His mom has to work late. He was gonna heat up the stuff she left for him, but I said he could probably just eat with us.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Vince look at me with a confused frown. At first my mom didn’t say anything, she simply looked from me to Vince and back.

Of course. You know I always make plenty, my mom finally said with a smile. Nice to meet you, Vince.

Nice to meet you too, ma’am, Vince said as he darted a glance my way.

You boys have fun. I’ll call you when it’s ready, she said.

Cool! Come on, Vince. Let’s go play some ball! I said as I stashed my backpack in the cubby by the back door. Then I grabbed my glove, bat, and ball.

The wooden screen door banged as we went outside.

I don’t have a glove, Vince said uncomfortably, as he looked off to the side.

Wait here. I have my old one. I ran back inside and into my room.

No running in the house! Mom called out.

Sorry, Mom! I said as I dug through my closet for my old glove. Finding it, I pushed up off my knees and went running.

Roman! Mom shouted as I burst out of the back door again.

Here! I said as I handed it to Vince.

We started to toss the ball back and forth. After a few minutes, Vince held the ball in the glove and stared at me. Finally, he asked, Why did you lie to your mom?

What are you talking about? Throw the ball, I replied.

You said I was gonna heat up something my mom made, but she didn’t leave me anything, he said glancing down to drop the ball into his hand.

Not feeling great about lying to my mom, I shrugged uncomfortably. You didn’t have dinner at your house. I wanted you to come over to play ball, so I figured you might as well eat since you’d be here.

I don’t need charity, he insisted with a frown.

It’s not charity if you’re already here and we have plenty, I argued.

As long as we’re clear, Vince added.

Of course. Now throw the ball!

He grinned and tossed it to me. We spent the rest of our time tossing the ball and practicing our pitching and batting skills.

My dad came to the door, still in his uniform. Boys! Dinner’s ready. Go wash up and get to the table.

Okay, Dad! I replied, as I put the ball in the glove, then took it off and tucked it under my arm. Vince grabbed the bat and the other glove. We both went inside talking animatedly about baseball stats. As we were told, we washed our hands before we went to the kitchen. Mom handed us each a side as we entered the kitchen and we carried them to the dining room.

My older sisters, Patricia and Mary, were setting the table. Sarah was too little to do much, but she brought napkins and the salt and pepper. All three cast curious glances at my new friend as we all took our seats at the long table. Morgan was only a year old and she sat in her high chair eating Cheerios while everyone bustled around her.

Dad came out of their bedroom dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He kissed my mom and whispered something in her ear that had her giggling like a kid. I rolled my eyes as I looked at Vince.

They’re so gross, I whispered to him.

He flushed, but laughed.

Once everyone was seated, my dad said grace, then we passed the food around. The girls chattered about school and their friends they hadn’t seen since last school year. Mom interjected occasionally.

Welcome to our family table, Dad said. Where the women outnumber the men, and we hear more about girly crap than we care to.

Oh hush, Patrick, my mother admonished with a smile that belied her tone.

So, your parents work late? Dad questioned Vince.

Vince pushed his food around on his plate a minute, then looked up and quietly replied. My mom works two jobs, so she’s at her second job. My dad doesn’t live with us.

What does your mother do? Mom asked as she helped Sarah cut her chicken off the bone.

Um, she’s a bartender, he softly replied.

You should join the baseball team. We were the champions this year, I said to Vince as I shoved mashed potatoes in my mouth.

It’s only little league, Mary snidely cut in.

Mary! my mother reprimanded. Mary didn’t appear worried, and I wanted to kick her under the table. She was only two years older than me, but she thought she was in high school.

Well, it is, she grumbled.

I wanna play baseball! squealed Sarah.

You’re only five. You need to be older, but soon, I told her with a smile. Everything I did, Sarah wanted to do. She was three years younger than me, but Mom said she thought I hung the moon.

Morgan giggled, then shoved green beans in her mouth with fat little baby fingers. She had no idea what we were saying but if we smiled, she laughed.

So will you? I asked him.

I dunno. I’m not sure my mom can afford it, Vince mumbled before he took a drink from his glass.

Oh, I replied, feeling bad because I had already heard from the other kids that he lived over in Section 8 housing and he and his mom struggled. It was why I invited him to dinner in the first place. He was going to my school on a scholarship, but we’d become friends on his first day. Maybe we were only eight, but kids knew those things and I felt bad for asking.

That spring and every spring until middle school, Vince got a notification from my little league that he had been selected for a baseball grant to play. It wasn’t until we started high school that I found out it was my parents.

Vince and I remained friends up until the day after graduation. We lost touch after that, but I never forgot him.

FMLYHM—Seether

Running into the restaurant I looked at my watch. Fucking hell, I muttered because I was late and I’d been specifically told not to be late. Mom would have to understand that I was on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week and I’d finished a call that put me behind. That was par for the course for me. As a Chicago SWAT officer, I didn’t have much of a life, but I loved what I did. Following in my father’s footsteps and then some, I was proud.

My family had been part of the Chicago PD since the year it came into existence. There was great honor in that for me.

Speaking of family, they were already seated in the back room of Horatio’s. All of them. Mom, Dad, my oldest sister, Patricia Margaret and her husband, Frank O’Reilly, who was also CPD, their four boys, Mary Frances and her husband John with their two kids, my kid sister, Sarah, and her new husband, Joey, and Morgan, my baby sister. Yeah, we had a big family.

Sorry, Mom, I said as I gave her a hug and a kiss to