Jack Taggart Mysteries 8-Book Bundle. Don Easton

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Jack Taggart Mysteries 8-Book Bundle - Don Easton


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good to me,” replied Danny, reaching for his cellphone to call Susan.

      “Hey, babe!” said Danny when she answered. “I’ll be home for dinner. Jack and I are taking the weekend off. How about taking a couple of steaks out of the freezer and not eating until after we put Tiff and Jimmy to bed?”

      Susan felt relief and joy flutter through her body. This was the Danny she had married. Not the bone-weary, stressed-out, and depressed man she had been putting up with for the last couple of weeks. “I’ll be glad to,” she replied, “except it’s cold and windy. You’ll freeze your butt off if you barbecue.”

      “Do we have any wine in the house?”

      “A bottle of Pinot Noir.”

      “Perfect. Then between you and the wine, I don’t expect to notice the cold. See you around five-thirty.”

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      Jack saw Lance pacing back and forth as they approached. Not a good sign. He’s not the type to be easily upset.

      “What’s up?” asked Jack as they met.

      “You guys have really done it this time,” replied Lance. “Damien is really in shit. Basically a vote of non-confidence. The club is out $6 million U.S. Damien has to cough up $1.5 million of his own bread as a penalty.”

      “Where will he get the money?” asked Danny.

      “Don’t know. Probably from the Caymans, but he could just slap a mortgage on his house.”

      “Is he still boss?” asked Jack.

      “In name only. The Toad is taking over in the interim until we do a proper election. He’s going to handle things personally for the next shipment. This time the dope will be split up before it ever leaves the port.”

      “Which will be when?” asked Jack.

      “The Toad arranged for the $3 mil down payment to be made a couple of days ago. The ship is due to arrive in about a week. The Toad is arriving here again tomorrow, along with a couple of his own guys. We pay the other half as the ship is unloaded.”

      “Where does The Toad stay when he’s here?” asked Jack.

      Lance shrugged. “Different hotels and motels. No place for long.”

      “Anything else?” asked Danny.

      “Think that’s about it,” replied Lance. “You guys screwed Damien good. I expect things might be a little different around here with The Toad.”

      Danny checked his watch again and thought about Susan. To hell with Damien! Let’s go! He looked at Lance and said, “Stay in touch. We want to know every move The Toad makes.”

      “You got it,” replied Lance, turning to walk away.

      “Not so fast,” said Jack. “What else is going on?”

      “About what?” asked Lance, turning to look at Jack.

      Jack stared back but didn’t speak.

      Lance returned his stare, then swallowed and said, “Oh, yeah. Guess I should have mentioned it. Noon yesterday, Damien called a meeting with Whiskey Jake, Rellik, and me.”

      “What about?” asked Danny.

      “About who ripped off our dope. Damien is pissed. Anyone we know dealing pounds or kilos who didn’t get it from us is getting whacked. Damien wants names. I gave him two guys and Whiskey Jake knew four. Rellik’s crew has already taken care of three of them. The other three will be next. I think Rellik has a few names of his own as well.”

      “You what!” shouted Danny. “Jesus Christ! You can’t be working for us and tossing out names of guys to be murdered!”

      “Thought you might be pissed,” said Lance, “but what was I supposed to do? You guys put me in this position. You wanted me to become prez? Well, now I am. With power comes responsibility.”

      “Yeah, but...” Danny stopped as Jack held up his hand.

      “I understand,” said Jack. “Don’t worry about it,” he added, while placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

      “Don’t worry about it!” said Danny, as his face took on a mottled effect.

      “I appreciate that you’re in a tough spot,” continued Jack, speaking quietly to Lance. “Know that we won’t do anything to jeopardize you, but at the same time you don’t have immunity from any other cops. All I can promise is that we won’t help them.”

      Lance nodded that he understood.

      “Now,” added Jack, “give us whatever details you have. Who, when, where.”

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      Susan prepared a baby bottle for Jimmy. If I want him to go quietly to bed tonight I better wake him soon. She glanced at Tiffany, who had been on her riding toy for an hour. Her feet sounded like a galloping centipede as she raced around the table on the linoleum floor while working her arms to steer. She’ll sleep tonight!

      Jimmy let out a high-pitched scream and Susan abruptly stopped what she was doing. It was a sound that all mothers instinctively knew. It wasn’t a cranky cry. He was in pain, and she ran to his crib.

      Jimmy was lying in his crib on his back, his face red and contorted in pain. Susan reached for him as she noticed a bloody pinch mark on his cheek. At less than three months old, Jimmy wasn’t even able to roll over.

      “Jimmy! What...”

      Susan pulled the blanket back but never succeeded in picking up her baby. She felt a man’s hand choke off her windpipe and heard him say, “Now be quiet, my little bird. I don’t want to hurt your baby again.”

      Ten minutes later, Susan found herself duct-taped to a kitchen chair. Her mouth had been taped but not her eyes. She believed there were at least four men, maybe five. They all wore ski masks and latex gloves. Two of them had their jackets undone and she saw pistols stuck in their belts.

      Tiffany started to cry behind her and she twisted in her chair but was bound too tight to see. Moments later her crying stopped; Jimmy still sobbed from his crib. What have they done! What have they done to my Tiffany!

      As if reading her thoughts, one man partially spun her chair so she could see that Tiffany was being held by a man who had his hand over her mouth.

      None of the men had spoken a word except the one who grabbed her. His eyes were dark brown, maybe black, and he spoke with a British accent. She saw him nod at a man behind her, who then dragged her chair over and sat her facing her patio door.

      Susan looked past their barbecue and at a metre-high above-ground pool that Danny had set up in the yard. The yard was well treed but Danny had built their fence extra high for even more privacy.

       What do they want? Is it Danny? Are they waiting for him? She glanced at the clock on her oven. It was 3:ffl. An hour and forty-five minutes before Danny...

      “Now then,” said the man with the British accent, bending over her. “I suppose you are wondering why we are doing this. The reason is rather simple, really. You have befriended a particular policeman who has taken it upon himself to bring an overzealous approach to his work. A chap by the name of Jack Taggart.”

      He stared into her eyes. Susan stared back, too afraid to move.

      “There is no use denying your friendship to this man. As I recall, you had him over for dinner not long ago. I believe you served him Yorkshire pudding. An excellent dish. Something I rather fancy myself.”

      He motioned with his head and another man carried Tiffany into view. Her mouth was now taped, as were her hands


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