Defended: The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense series, #15

By Joy Ohagwu

A CHRISTIAN SUSPENSE SERIES

 

The battle has begun, and the hunter is pursued while remaining as dangerous as ever. Between the Hunter, his cronies and the SSPD, who will win?

 

Hunted by dangerous elements, and barely escaping with her life, undercover police officer Ladi Zoe vanishes without a trace. With her whereabouts untraceable, she left behind a trail of evidence for dismantling a dangerous network of criminals, and the love of her life brokenhearted. But, her heroic actions only seemed to have stirred the hornets nest. 

 

Now, the bad guys want the SSPD destroyed. 

 

DEFENDED is Book 15 in The New Rulebook & Pete Zendel Christian Suspense Series by USA Today Bestselling & Award winning Author Joy Ohagwu.

Grab your copy now. Please read the previous books to better understand the series. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Divine Breakthrough Infinity
• Release date: Nov 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393517023

Joy Ohagwu

By God's grace, USA Today Bestselling Author Joy Ohagwu is an award-winning author of Christian Suspense and Romance & Christian Inspirational Fiction. Named by Book Riot in August 2019 as one of the 17 best Christian Fiction authors, she writes heartwarming stories with a healthy dose of suspense, divine inspiration, and happy endings. She credits Jesus with having turned her life around, averted multiple life derailments for her, and she's grateful to be writing stories that embody grace, hope, love, and second (and multiple) chances. She earned a Masters' degree in International Affairs, a Bachelors' degree in Political Science and has been honored with fourteen individual academic awards for excellence by her alma mater and her peers. She lives in the Washington DC capital region.

Book preview

1

Click here and get book 16 - WARRIOR!

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For He knows deceitful men; He sees wickedness also. Will He not then consider it? – Job 11:11

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You’re so nice and deadly! Mrs. Amanda London cried toward her husband’s fleeing back, flinging her black purse at him and narrowly missing him as it clattered to a step near his feet on the silver-painted spiral stairs.

He should have denied it when she’d asked him on their way home if he did it.

Since she saw that note, she’d endured through their restaurant dinner, picking through the delicious crabs on her plate like they were beets, waiting for a chance to ask him, only to find out he did do it—even if he never said the words. The side-roll of his eyes answered her, and bile had risen in her throat.

But she should’ve known he’d done it if the past couple of years were anything to go by.

Yes, she shouldn’t have hoped that he didn’t.

And yet she had…wishing, and hoping, and finding out she was wrong.

It was undeniable now.

He’d killed the man who’d refused to sell him the land hugging their casino property for the purpose of expansion.

A man who’d done Richie no wrong. And now, Richie would find a way to acquire that land for himself—with blood on his hands.

Somehow, the man she married had become a monster.

And he wasn’t trying to hide who he’d become. Instead, there was no low that was low enough for Richie London anymore.

The man she loved was gone, and this monster added new scales to his back daily and gloried in their grazing roughness regardless of who they harmed.

God have mercy on me. Wiping her nose with her elbow, her voice quivering, she panted in heavy breaths while making to cross the lounge in the Homestead suite built above the hotel and casino her husband—Richie London—owned.

Now, standing at the top of the steps leading down to the hotel, his pitch-black short and straight hair glistening against the dark sky, Richie gripped the railing with whitened knuckles—itching for blood or eager to punch something—as he lifted his head and tipped his jaw toward her instead. She spotted a patch of blood on his face near his forehead. Why, Richie, why? But her dry throat couldn’t get the words out.

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

Her mind was reeling.

How could he keep breathing with the amount of evil he’d done? Of course, no one knew any of that. And Amanda didn’t need someone to tell her—the moment she breathed a word to any living thing, she was a dead woman, as well as her entire family. He would wipe them off the face of the earth—and likely not regret it.

Her skin crawled in the place where he’d held her arm moments earlier, telling her he loved her while his own skin appeared so cancerously pale. He’d swiped his slick black hair—which made many confuse him for an Italian instead of his Greek heritage—eyed her with eyes as blue as the ocean, opened full lips, and said the words that had chilled her. The doctor is dead. While her mind roiled, he added, He was asking too many questions and getting close, so I did what was necessary. A shrug, as if murder was a normal thing, trailed his words. We must protect ourselves and my business. Richie London was a wealthy casino owner when she met him, and she couldn’t bother to be married one moment longer to this brute of a man.

"At all costs, Richie? Who are you?" Her trembling lips managed to shriek out the words.

He turned and fled, and as his shoes clinked down the steps to the casino and hotel, she buried her face in her hands, wiped her smeared mascara with well-manicured fingers, and knew she’d had it.

Stumbling through the space with unsteady feet, her vision swimming in unshed tears, Amanda felt nauseated by the happy music sailing through the speakers, emanating from the busy gambling tables downstairs. Should anyone be happy…on these grounds?

She shook her head, and sleek red hair tumbled onto her shoulders. Nothing about this place was happy. And the classy, elegant atmosphere was a farce for a man whose hands were always stained with crime and blood—but she hadn’t known that when she’d married him. Nor did she suspect him at all the first few years of their marriage when Richie was just a small business guy with big dreams until he became wealthy.

His scribble beside the latest large expense on their line item for their personal bank account left her throat dry. No one would know what Cuisines ordered meant but her. He’d told her during an argument years after their wedding, about how the server on their ship for their anniversary had died because of him.

Richie had seen him spit on their food before serving it to them. He’d told her he’d ordered cuisines afterward. She’d hired a private investigator—only to discover—the man had inexplicably gone overboard and likely drowned, being sucked in the undertow.

She’d sneakily tried to involve the cops. But the inquiry had stalled, and somehow, Richie’d known she had talked and warned her sternly to steer clear.

That was the turning point.

After that, he’d lost all caution, and no longer cared to hide who he really was. And her world had shifted to darker since then.

She was done.

With him.

With the crimes.

And with the false lifestyle.

This was no way to live.

This was not the happy and loving marriage with integrity she thought she’d signed up for.

Sure, at first, he was loving to her, but integrity was not a word she could ever associate with Richie. His gentility was dangerous, and his smiles were precursors to some deadly behavior.

No one would believe she was married to a polite psychopath. And Amanda was done telling herself he would change.

Amanda was over with being Mrs. Richie London—with all the fame, money, and secrets that came with it. But her mama didn’t raise a fool. She knew her husband, and what he would do should she even mention being unhappy, let alone leaving him.

She couldn’t leave him on his terms—in a box—so she’d leave on her own terms.

By cracking the bank of their secrets wide open and waiting for all the chips to fall.

Could you show me the way to the hotel safe room, please? Rory Hicks, acquisitions consultant for Rosswell Incorporated, requested once he spotted a hotel employee in a pencil skirt. He no longer felt comfortable leaving secure documents inside his hotel room, especially when he’d learned the hotel had a safe. So, he’d come downstairs to secure the documents.

The hotel employee flashed him a formal smile. When you turn left, go down the …

The constant music playing from the casino made it hard for him to hear her. So he touched her elbow and drew her aside. My apologies, I couldn’t hear you well.

She smiled more naturally this time as she leaned toward him and increased her voice. No problem. I just want to remind you that we don’t keep any original copies of things like birth certificates and social security cards, per the hotel policy. But if you have valuables, we can keep them safe for you. The safe room opens for deposits only for an hour, and it’s closed on Saturdays and Sundays for safety reasons. Would you still like to use it? The blonde-haired lady in a cream and purple striped dress—the hotel’s uniform—offered another formal smile.

Rory ran a hand over his hair. Well, considering these are important documents and I’m entrusted to carry them to their final destinations, I would hate to spill my coffee on them by mistake. He nodded toward her. I’d rather use your safe since I’m likely staying here for a few days.

She pointed toward the left to a well-lit hallway. Of course, I understand. And for a small fee, I don’t think that should be a problem. We are happy to assist you with securing your items.

As she led him to the safe room, Rory couldn’t help but glance at the private meeting rooms with gleaming steel doors and long handles along the hallway. They passed one where the door was wedged open, and as they strode past, it seemed as though a man and a woman standing inside were in a deep disagreement.

Her eyes met his briefly, and he could read worry in the lines on her brow, worry she quickly masked with a plain face.

The way her back stood straight and her jaw jutted like a finely chiseled rock, she seemed like an important person around here. But, being new, he couldn’t be sure.

Tearing his gaze away, he followed the clicking heels as the lady led him to the safe room. Upon arrival and performing their protocols, she escorted him inside and, along with the assistance of other staff members, secured a safe for him to deposit his stuff. Thankfully, he’d come with his ID and credit card.

We will charge your account on file with us for this service when you check out. There’s no need for a separate payment, sir, a hotel security employee working in the safe room said.

All right. Thank you very much. As Rory turned to leave, he bumped shoulders with someone who’d just entered. He turned to see who it was, and an alarmed pair of eyes met his as her sharp inhale reached his ears.

The woman he’d seen in a deep discussion earlier. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. She darted her gaze away, sweeping her red hair closer to her face as though trying to obscure it in a failing attempt to not be seen.

A wary feeling climbed Rory’s neck, and his former cop instincts took over. Noting the wedding ring that didn’t look cheap on her finger, as well as other expensive jewelry, he also spotted the bruise on her left wrist and wondered what left it there.

She seemed to trail his gaze and tugged the arm of her dress over her bruise.

Sir, we’re done here. Is there anything else I can help you with? The security employee flashed him a smile.

At the same time, another employee asked the woman, Mrs. London. What a pleasure to assist you, ma’am. How may I help you?

I need a safe. He overheard Mrs. London say. Not the one my husband and I share. A–A different one.

That piqued his interest. Both the stutter and the request for a separate safe.

Was there more going on here than a regular deposit? If only he could idle a moment longer…

Of course, ma’am. It will be just a moment. Rustling followed as Rory peered at the number on the slip he was given to buy time while he moved slowly toward the door, still listening to their conversation.

Please complete this form, as per the usual procedures, the staff said.

No, Louise. I won’t be needing a form. There will be no record of me using this safe. A pause trailed her words, increasing Rory’s curiosity as he dragged his feet outward. I’ll tip you well, she promised the staff in an urgent tone.

Ma’am, the rules here state that…

A sad chuckle cut in. I know what the rules say. I partly wrote them. Now, Rory was interested. Now, please get me that safe and a private key for it. I have to leave soon. Thank you. Using her authority to force her wishes, she shut down any further protest.

Yes, ma’am. Please follow me. The woman’s receding steps matched Rory’s forward-moving ones as he left the safe room, reentered the hallway, and determined to know who Mrs. London was—and why she needed an off-the-books safe separate from her husband.

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His heart is established; He will not be afraid, until he sees his desire upon his enemies. – Psalm 112:8

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Hughes Martinez downed another can of soda as he plunked into the seat in front of his computer and scratched his bushy beard. He wasn’t one to wear a beard, but since Ladi’s disappearance, he’d had better things to do than worry about a shave.

Living in Pastor Pete Zendel’s cabin had offered him the much-needed privacy—to avoid detection by those who’d planned him dead, to mourn what could’ve been, and to search for his missing love.

He pinned his gaze on the computer screen, well aware that it was past two a.m. and he should be asleep. He’d gone on a sixteen-hour stretch yesterday—searching through the state’s secure databases—without permission—seeking to find where Ladi was stowed away. Someone had to know where she was. And he would find that information. Somehow.

Sleep peppered his eyes, and after another hour or working, he sighed as the clock chimed three a.m. The screen’s glare was beginning to hurt his eyes, and he was squinting more often. Moreover, it didn’t seem like he’d find anything tonight. He tossed the cup into a tray where four more empty cups sat.

Eight months and fourteen days of scouring every possible database he could think of, and still, there was no sign of where Ladi might be.

His thoughts shifted to the last day they’d seen each other, an encounter that had turned almost into a blur in his memory these days, but firm like a rock in his heart and soul. She’d promised him that she’d be safe, that she would come out alive, and she had, just not home to him.

Sighing again and realizing that he could no longer focus distraction-free, he pushed through for another hour with the help of an energy drink. Then, when his eyes could hardly stay open, he’d set another search to begin running while he trudged over to the collapsible couch and soon fell asleep.

Captain Charlie Bailey of the Silver Stone Police Department (SSPD) watched the figures moving on the screen, and the entire room held their collective breaths.

Through the past eight months, the Hunter had played hide-and-seek with them. He was spotted in some places, but before the police got there, he’d disappear. At a random city council meeting two months ago, he’d been spotted. Then a youth camp for smart kids had an unannounced visit from him—and a hefty donation in cash. A playground in a public park was where he was seen next. And a casino in town was where he’d