Jack Taggart Mysteries 8-Book Bundle. Don Easton

      Danny O’Reilly looked like he had stepped out of a recruiting poster for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police as he stood outside the main entrance to the hotel in downtown Winnipeg. His red tunic was tailored to fit perfectly, and his deep brown leather riding boots equipped with silver spurs gleamed in the afternoon sun. He was shorter than most police officers, but it wasn’t too noticeable when he wore his riding boots.

      Danny was looking forward to his transfer to the West Coast. It was no secret that he hated Public Relations. Today he was to open the door of a limousine when it arrived and salute the prime minister as he stepped out. A mannequin could have performed the same function. Any real threat or danger was to be handled by the plainclothes officers. Not that any serious threats had been identified.

      He stared at the media and leaned slightly forward on his toes to relieve the pressure points on his heels, then used his brown leather gloves to dab at the perspiration that escaped from under his stetson.

      He caught the hand signal of one of the plainclothes members of the VIP Security Detail. Estimated time of arrival for the prime minister was three minutes. About bloody time. He glanced at his watch. The PM’s flight had been delayed, and it was two hours past the time that he had promised Susan he would be home.

      Danny thought back four months to when Tiffany was born. He recently bought Susan a gift certificate for a massage and manicure. As a new mom, she really appreciated the idea. She had booked the appointment for this afternoon. She wouldn’t be happy about missing it.

      The spurs on Danny’s boots jingled when he snapped to attention as the lead cars in the procession of limousines arrived in front of the hotel.

      Danny was unaware that fate would alter his life within seconds, plunging him into a world of rules he didn’t know existed. A world where the strong murdered the weak. A world where he would have to find out which category he was in.

      Jack’s footsteps echoed down an empty, antiseptic-smelling hallway as he walked away from the nursing station. Ben and Liz would want answers. He could tell them why. No doubt a drug deal. Whoever did it likely heard a noise and thought it was a ripoff, or maybe the cops.

      Jack vowed that one day he would be able to tell Ben and Liz who did it.

      But there was something he was afraid to tell them. If it was a dope deal, more than one person was involved. Defense lawyers would insinuate that the other lawyer’s client did it, making any conviction tenuous. They would argue the murders weren’t preplanned so any conviction would probably be the result of a plea bargain with the condition of an early release.

      He wouldn’t tell Ben and Liz that today. Let them go through their disbelief and shock. For them, anger would come later.

      He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as he stepped into the room. Promise not to cry. They will need me. Must stay strong.

      Ben’s and Liz’s eyes were windows to their terror. Jack saw their pain. Pain that gripped their throats and made talking or breathing difficult. Pain that no words could cure.

      Jack broke his promise to stay strong.

      It was a day that would be locked forever in their souls.

      Damien squinted at one of the closed-circuit television monitors and saw Wizard looking up at the camera from his car.

      Damien’s voice was curt and to the point. “I’m out back, at the pool.” He released the electronic gate, then walked outside to turn the heat down on his barbecue.

      He looked at Vicki’s bikini-clad body as she tossed a beach ball back to their three children in the pool. Buck was twelve years old and his two sisters, Sarah and Kate, were ten and seven. She still had a fantastic figure. So what’s wrong with me?

      Vicki returned his gaze and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

      “Company?” she asked.

      “Business. Won’t take long,” he answered, gently pushing her away.

      “What’s the matter, Papa Bear?”

      “You know what the matter is.”

      “You’re still brooding about last night? Don’t worry. It really doesn’t bother me.”

      “It bothers me! How could it not bother you? I’m fifty-two, but you, you’re only thirty-four. You’re in your prime.”

      “Hey, you’re still in your prime too. Bet you were just tired. Next time take a Viagra.”

      Damien sighed, then said, “I did. It didn’t work.”

      Wizard drove up the circular driveway to Damien’s estate and parked in front of the four-car garage. Communication antennas and satellite dishes bristled from the roof of the mansion.

      One garage door was open, and Wizard caught a glimpse of a new red Jaguar parked inside. The Satans Wrath’s emblem of a skull with horns grinned from the gas tank of a Harley Davidson motorcycle next to the Jag.

      Wizard smirked to himself as he opened the gate to the back of the mansion. Damien didn’t like being bothered at home. What he had to tell him would piss him off even more.

      The cobblestone path led to the sound of children’s laughter. He spotted Vicki and felt the blood go to his loins. Yes, Damien has it all. For a moment he allowed himself to fantasize that Damien was dead. Vicki was lonely and horny. She wanted him to…

      The barbecue lid closed with a bang. Damien glared at him and abruptly flicked off one burner. He was wearing only trunks. His arms and legs were exceptionally hairy, and his physique caused Wizard to think that he looked like a paunchy old bear. His short hair had noticeably thinned. Does he think he can hold on as national pres? He’s becoming old and weak. The election is only a couple of months away.

      They walked along a manicured garden path while Wizard gave his version of what had happened that afternoon.

      Dark lines formed in the furrows on Damien’s forehead and shadows appeared under his eyes. His response was venomous. “You whacked two kids!” Spittle from his mouth landed on Wizard’s face.

      “Well, actually, Rolly whacked the boy. The Suit told us to do it and —”

      “Since when does the fucking Suit give us orders? You were in charge!”

      “I was in charge, but —”

      “Fucking millions to be made and you pull this stunt!”

      “Damien, you weren’t there. We had no choice. They were mouthy little brats. Knew what was goin’ on and threatened to tell the cops. We had to do ’em. Especially seein’ as they saw The Suit. Besides, nobody knows about it or can connect it with us.”

      “Why the fuck did you have The Suit with you way out there?”

      “He was already up the Valley at a meeting all morning. Rolly was looking for spots for grow operations. It just worked out that way.”

      “Next time, he takes his own wheels to the motel! You do the delivery after he’s there.”

      Wizard nodded that he understood.

      “Where is he now?”

      “Gettin’ his treat at a motel. Rolly will clean that up after. I thought I should come and let you know right away.”

      “Getting his fucking treat? Killing two kids didn’t bother him?”

      “Actually, I think he liked it.”

      “Nobody is to know about this!”

      “Rolly earned his Dirty Dog. I sanctioned it.”

      Damien thought for a moment, then said, “Okay, he gets it, but not a fuckin’ hint to anyone about how he got it!”

      Damien monitored Wizard on camera as he left. His instinct told him that Wizard hadn’t been totally honest.