The Ultimate Romantic Suspense Set (8 romantic suspense novels from 8 bestselling authors for 99c)

by Lee Taylor

  "Yikes. Maxie win anything?"

  Michael took a deep breath. "No. He missed Minnie I guess. Linda won't be pleased."

  "Do you care?"

  Michael chuckled. "Actually, no."

  Gary seemed to hesitate. "Otherwise everything okay at the house?"

  "I guess. I was so tired by the time I got home from my concert at Pandora Hall, I just collapsed into bed."

  "I forgot about that. How'd it go?"

  Michael exhaled loudly through his lips, remembering the less than enthusiastic applause and the curious looks from other members of the brass band. "Not my finest performance."

  Another pause. What was his brother hesitant to ask? Suddenly he knew. "Yeah. I read it. Satisfied? Goodnight."

  He ended the call, feeling better than he had all day, until he remembered again how rude he'd been to the author-friend-brown-eyed woman. He didn't want Gary losing the client because of him.

  He picked up the phone and speed dialled his brother's number.

  "Yeah?"

  "Hey, I wasn't very polite to your author when she brought the dogs. Tell her I'm sorry."

  "What you mean is, you were downright rude to Jessie. Tell her yourself."

  The phone went dead.

  Jessie. He should call her. What was he afraid of? Somehow he had a hard time equating the author of the erotic book he'd enjoyed a little too much with the middle aged woman who'd dropped off the dogs.

  His weary eyes flew open. Maybe she was a closet Sub.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  A nasty case of abuse captured most of Michael's attention the following week. The investigation started when a local pharmacist noticed that an elderly woman was coming in for more pill refills than seemed normal, and reported it to the Seniors' Directorate.

  Michael phoned the woman and conducted a preliminary interview. He got a sense that 73 year-old Barbara Kemp was suffering from the early effects of dementia. She seemed nervous and confused, especially when mentioning her daughter and grandson. She couldn't explain why she had so many prescriptions for pain medication, muttering about how hard it was to remember each doctor's name.

  The next day, Michael went to the woman's home. His heart sank when she came to the door, relying heavily on her walker. Her white hair was a wild tangle. He'd guess she wore a Depends that needed changing. When he identified himself, she tried half-heartedly to close the door. "It's okay, Mrs. Kemp. I'm the person you spoke to on the phone yesterday."

  She squinted at him, swaying alarmingly. "David said he'll smash my face in if I talk to you again."

  Michael took her arm. "Please let me in, Mrs. Kemp. Who is David?"

  She let him guide her into the house, but shrank back against him when a middle aged woman blustered into the hallway from another room. "Who are you?" the woman asked belligerently, wiping her hands on an apron.

  Michael showed his identification. "I'm here from the Seniors' Directorate. We need to know why Mrs. Kemp has multiple prescriptions for the same painkillers. Who are you?"

  "I'm Linda Klamm, Barbara's daughter."

  The old lady gripped his arm. "Linda takes away my pills."

  Klamm advanced on her mother. "Shut up, stupid old woman. She's demented. She doesn't know what she's talking about."

  The old lady clung to Michael. "She won't give me anything for the pain in my hip, no matter how I beg. I'm worn out going to so many doctors."

  Suddenly she cackled, patting her sagging bosom. "They don't know I hide some in my bra."

  Michael didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He helped Mrs. Kemp to a chair. She gripped his hand. "Don't tell David. He spits at me and throws hot coffee on me if I don't give him my pills."

  Michael had heard enough. He speed dialled the police on his Blackberry. Linda Klamm put her pudgy hands on her broad hips, her face crimson. "Who are you calling? She makes stuff up. David is good to her."

  Mrs. Kemp snorted.

  "I assume David is your son? It's my responsibility to investigate your mother's allegations. If they prove false, we'll move on from there and decide the best course of action for her. If it's true you've forced her to shop for doctors in order to procure painkillers, I'll personally help her get a restraining order against you and your son, and prosecute you."

  The old woman beckoned Michael. He bent down as she cupped a hand to her mouth. "Don't forget the note."

  "What note?" he whispered back, concerned by a fearful glance at her daughter.

  "Promissory. Twenty-five thousand dollars--when I sell my furniture." She shook her head. "Had to. David said he'd kill me."

  Michael was relieved to see a police cruiser pull up in the driveway. A young man who'd been on the verge of entering the driveway from the street suddenly took off at a run. Michael strode to the door, but one of the cops had already gone in pursuit.

  ~~~

  Michael handed the printed computer report to Jim. "In summary, Linda Klamm, aged 50, and her 25 year-old son, David Willison, have been charged with exploitation of a vulnerable adult. Klamm has also been charged with theft by extortion and obstructing justice, Willison with retaliation against a victim."

  Jim scanned the report, shaking his head. "And Mrs. Kemp, what's happening with her?"

  "We've helped her file for a restraining order, and secured her a place at Dawson Court until her needs can be assessed."

  "Good work. What else is pending?"

  Michael raked his fingers through his hair. It had been a full day, but a productive one. He took out his new spiral notebook. "A manager at the Royal Bank alerted police of the possible exploitation of an elderly client. His savings account has gone from a balance of $96,000 to zero in six months. I'll start on that tomorrow."

  Jim got up from his chair and sauntered over to the open door. He closed it, then resumed his seat. "Any progress with the Glazebrook case?"

  Michael chewed on his lower lip. "He's slippery, and clever. He hides behind his high profile. But he'll make a mistake, and I'll be there to catch him when he does."

  Jim's chair squeaked as he twisted back and forth. "You still have no hard evidence."

  Michael leaned forward. "That creep is using his position to defraud elderly people, and we're not talking small amounts of money. I want to know how he got Matilda Johnson's house for next to nothing. If we knew where she was, we could get to the bottom of it. I'm taking the 7 a.m. ferry over to Vancouver tomorrow. I have a lead that might prove fruitful--Matilda's cousin."

  "Be careful, greedy people can be dangerous if they think they have a lot to lose."

  Michael came to his feet. "Don't worry. I survived all those years as a cop with nary a scratch."

  Jim chuckled. "Yeah, only to be nearly polished off by a heart attack."

  His friend was right. Working too hard and worrying about the job had almost proven fatal. Maybe he should overnight in Vancouver instead of rushing back on the last ferry. He could drop in at Scallywags and take the Dungeon Master up on the flogging lesson he'd recommended. What the hell was the guy's name? A quick call tonight should do the trick. His cock stood to attention as if approving the idea.

  He looked back at Jim. "On second thought, I'll probably have to overnight in Vancouver. I'll get started on the bank fraud case the day after tomorrow."

  His boss's attention was immersed in the report. "Sounds good to me."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Everything Jessie knew about Dom/Sub relationships she'd learned from romance novels and internet research. Her ex-husbands were both strong-minded men. Radu thought nothing of marching to the front of any line-up and butting in. But sexually--

  Novels about Doms and Subs excited her. She'd reluctantly come to the realization she might be a Sub, but was afraid to mention it to anyone or pursue the logical outcome. Consequently, she'd poured out her fantasies in her writing.

  Her independently published efforts had come to the attention of a New York editor and His Willing Slave had been printed and
widely distributed.

  Gary had lined up a series of book signing engagements and was optimistic about the projected sales. She was exhausted after a two week whirlwind tour of bookstores the length and breadth of Vancouver Island, followed by Tacoma, Seattle, and Vancouver. Being "on show" was nerve-wracking, especially when someone she knew brought a book to be signed.

  She'd spent every spare moment, though they were few and far between, in her writing cave, and was making good progress with the second book, optimistic it was turning out better than the first.

  She'd almost got the Titanic theme out of her head. Every time she started humming it, resentment bubbled inside and she got all hot and bothered. "Men!"

  After one intensive, but productive session, she was shutting off her computer when the phone rang.

  "Jessie?"

  She knew by now that it was Gary. "Hi, Gary. How are you?"

  "Good. All set for the signing tomorrow?"

  She'd forgotten all about it. "Sure," she lied. "Refresh my memory. Where is this one?"

  She heard Gary's chuckle. "Bolen Books. Repeat performance. 10 a.m. I'll have some good news for you."

  "Good news?"

  "Sorry, you'll have to wait until I see you. Bye!"

  He hung up before she could reply.

  ~~~

  Gary greeted her at the bookstore by planting a wet kiss on her cheek.

  She hunched one shoulder and squirmed away from him. She didn't want people thinking he was someone special to her. He was a nice guy, and a good agent, but--

  "What was that for?"

  "A big kiss for my shining star," he enthused loudly.

  Jessie looked around nervously. They were attracting attention. Gary put his arm around her shoulders. "Ladies--and one gentleman I see--you're privileged to be in the presence of that rare bird, a New York Times Bestselling author. His Willing Slave just made the list. Congratulations!"

  Jessie forgot her nervousness as elation zinged through her, making even her toes tingle. The people who'd lined up for her autograph clapped and cheered. There was a lot of scurrying in the stacks and within seconds it seemed the line was snaking out of sight. She was grateful for Gary's arm as he guided her to a seat and thrust a pen in her hand. "Go to it, Jessie," he whispered. "You've earned it. I'm going to check on their stock here. I told them to have lots of copies on hand."

  He turned to the expectant group. "Ms. Lancaster will stay as long as it takes to sign everyone's book, so don't worry. Plenty of time."

  He winked at her and disappeared.

  ~~~

  That night Jessie curled up in bed. She was exhausted, but doubted she'd be able to sleep. Elation couldn't begin to describe the feeling. New York Times Bestseller. Getting Gary to act as her agent had been a godsend.

  But he was right that the second book needed to go deeper. She had to take the plunge and experience firsthand some of what her characters experienced. Since it wasn't likely Mr. Perfect Dom would come along anytime soon, she decided to call Scallywags the next morning and sign up to watch the flogging lesson the Dungeon Master had mentioned.

  A little jolt of sexual arousal had her stretching like a cat.

  PART TWO

  After Scallywags

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Michael slept soundly in a pleasant room at the Beach Grove Motel in Tsawwassen and woke feeling refreshed, despite getting to bed very late after driving from Scallywags.

  As soon as he boarded the early morning ferry back to Victoria, he followed his usual route, heading from the lower vehicle deck to the Seawest Lounge on Deck 6. Unlike most of the other passengers rushing to jockey for a place in the long line at the self-serve cafeteria, he took his time, glad BC Ferries had introduced a relaxing space for passengers willing to pay a small fee for peace and quiet.

  He ordered a Starbucks, a pastry and a yogurt, then settled into a comfortable armchair. He took out his spiral notepad, intending to go over the notes he'd taken during his interview with Matilda Johnson's cousin the previous afternoon.

  But as the vessel got underway across the Georgia Strait, he found himself gazing out the window, recalling the unexpected emotional upheaval he'd experienced at the flogging.

  An enormous container ship loomed alarmingly close, headed for the Juan da Fuca Strait. It wasn't surprising several containers reportedly never made it to their destination, they were piled so high.

  Once they reached Active Pass, he realized he'd never noticed eagles soaring in the dark evergreen forests, though he'd made the crossing to Vancouver and travelled the narrow pass between Mayne and Galiano Islands hundreds of times. And who knew there was a lighthouse on the point?

  Reluctantly, he dragged his attention back to the notes he'd taken during his interview with Matilda's second cousin. She'd contacted the Directorate from Vancouver, worried she hadn't seen or heard from her relative for weeks. She'd checked with local hospitals, because, in her words, Matilda had been acting a bit strange recently. Reggi Blenkin had found no record of Matilda being admitted to any hospital in Victoria.

  If Matilda Johnson wasn't in hospital, where had she gone after selling the house? Her cousin was aghast when Michael revealed what the house had sold for.

  -- He jotted down a checklist of things to do.

  -- Double check hospitals for Matilda

  -- Check with coroner-maybe she died

  -- Nursing/retirement homes

  -- Matilda's doctor

  -- Gym-workout

  -- Call Stuart re photos for Smith case

  -- Telus & BC Hydro re phone/utility bills at M's house.

  -- M for Michael, J for ?

  Huh!

  He crossed out the last item and glanced out the wide window, awed by the molten silver of bright sunlight on the rippling waters of Swanson Channel. He was fortunate to live in this beautiful part of Canada. Why on earth was he thinking of moving to Panama?

  That jolted his memory. He had to get with Gary and finalize the details about investing in the condo in Las Piedras. He added the item to the list, surprised to see he'd doodled a heart with an arrow, M=J at its center.

  ~~~

  Jessie took the first ferry back to Victoria the night after the flogging at Scallywags. She'd slept like a log, not sure how long the front desk's wakeup call had been ringing when she finally answered it. Good thing the hotel was in Tsawwassen, not far from the ferry terminal. Driving there in a purple haze last night had been a nightmare, but now she was glad she'd made the effort.

  She intended to make the crossing in the peace and quiet of the Seaview Lounge, but caught sight of someone who looked suspiciously like the Doggie Jerk heading in that direction, and quickly changed her mind.

  She went back down to the main deck, ending up in the self service cafeteria where she ordered bacon and eggs after an interminable wait in the long line.

  Finding an empty table was easier said than done. Several people who'd obviously finished their food glared at her when she looked at them hopefully, the tray balanced on one hand as she hitched her laptop over her shoulder with the other. Eventually she slid into the seat of a small table tucked away behind one of the food coolers.

  She polished off her breakfast in short order. It tasted better than usual. She took out her laptop as soon as the BC Ferries steward removed the dishes. The crowds had evaporated. She'd have a good forty-five minutes to write in peace.

  Once the computer booted up, she opened the Word file, then stared at the screen for five minutes, hands clasped expectantly. She read over the last few paragraphs she'd written. Before her experience at Scallywags, she'd mulled over ideas about her heroine and the next scenes.

  She touched her fingers to the keys, but nothing came. Her mind filled with the sights, sounds, smells, fears, hopes, emotions, and the sheer exhilaration of her evening at Scallywags.

  Her back still prickled a little, and the hotel's bathroom mirror had revealed a hint of a pink line across her bottom. She s
quirmed on the cold metal seat, clenching her thighs together. This wasn't the place to get all hot and bothered. People might notice.

  She dragged her eyes away from the blinking cursor to stare through the window. They'd reached Active Pass. She made a point of watching for eagles whenever the boat went through the narrow channel. She wasn't disappointed today as two or three of the magnificent birds soared over the dark Douglas firs.

  She'd soared at Scallywags, set free to fly by an anonymous male. She'd been freer in those few minutes bound to a cross than she'd ever been.

  She turned back to her computer and poured her soul into her writing.

  ~~~

  On his way to his first appointment, Michael dropped in on his brother. Gary worked out of a state of the art office in his downtown penthouse apartment. If Michael had such a jaw-dropping view of the Inner Harbour and the iconic Parliament Buildings, he'd never get anything done.

  Gary scrolled through the appointment calendar on his iPhone. "It's impossible for me to commit to returning to Panama before Christmas."

  Michael flipped through the pages of the pocket calendar he carried everywhere. If he ever lost the little book, he'd be in deep shit. He preferred the kind that had a page for each month of the year for two years. That way he didn't have to buy a new calendar each year. "No go. I committed to meeting with the other investors before that. How about next month? Say, the 15th?"

  Gary blew out an exasperated breath. "Well, I could possibly rearrange a few appointments, but it'll be touch and go. I can only set aside a week at the most."

  Michael was disappointed. To travel so far for a week was hardly worth it. "I suppose that's better than nothing, unless you can make it ten days?"

  Gary shook his head. "How about you go on ahead, and I'll join you there a day or two later? I'll get my travel agent to do the bookings."

  Michael scrawled Lv for Pan in the square for the 10th. "Okay. Let me know when you've confirmed the dates, and I'll contact the hotel. I'd like to leave on the 10th. I'll email Anneke, see if she'll give us a good deal. I suggest you transfer your share of the money to me, and I'll get it to Hunter. Banking in Panama sounds like a challenge, so better keep it as simple as possible."