The story below is a work of fiction. It may contain erotic or sexually explicit behavior between males. If you find this work offensive or are too young, please exit now.

The author reserves copyright privileges as of May 2004. This work may not be posted on any other website nor reproduced, except for personal use, without the written permission of the author.

Dedication: Thanks Bill H. for a great editing job.

If you’d like to comment or just say ‘Hi’, my e-mail address is John Tucker


Chapter Forty-two

Tuesday Evening, 10:30 P.M, Ron and Matt’s estate

Ron and Matt had retired to their room and had just stepped out of the large shower where they’d again enjoyed scrubbing each other’s handsome bodies, with the inevitable response that came with that contact. In spite of the previous night’s lengthy love session, they were both in the mood for a repeat performance. Ron had wrapped the large bath sheet around his waist after drying off, when the phone began to ring.

“What now?” Matt reacted to the noise from the bedroom.

Ron hurried to the phone that had just finished its third ring as he punched the speakerphone button.

“Ron Turner,” he said in a slightly raised voice.

“Mista Tuhnah, suh,” said a voice almost in panic, one that Ron didn’t recognize, “this heah’s George from Miss Mabel’s Moppahs. I’m heah at yer office buildin’, suh.”

“What’s the problem George?” Ron asked.

“It’s Miss Mabel, suh. Somebody done smacked huh ‘cross the haid.”

“Is she alright?” Ron asked in alarm.

“She’s out colder’n a mack’el, suh. I done called 911 and they’s an amblance acomin’. Then I called you.”

“Is she breathing alright?” Ron asked as he pulled off the towel and grabbed a fresh pair of shorts from the nearby dresser. Matt, who was listening, had also begun to dress.

“Yessuh, I checked that fuhst. She were kinda crumpled all up, so I laid ‘er out flat and covuhed huh body wif a coat I found in yer office closet. I bin tole to keep an injuhed person wahm.”

“You did great George,” Ron praised. “Are there other workers with you?”

“Yessuh. Lula is awatchin’ Miss Mabel while I’m doin’ the callin’, and I got ole Sam out front awatchin’ fo’ the amblance. They’s a couple mo’ thet wanted to jes’ stan’ ‘round but I tole ‘em to git on wit’ they work.”

“Matt and I are on the way,” Ron said. “If they take Mabel to the hospital before we get there, call me on my cell phone. Find out where they’re taking her,” Ron ordered. He then gave George the number of his cell phone, repeating it once.

“Thank you, George,” Ron said ending the call, “We’ll be there in less than 15 minutes.”

“Yessuh. Thank you suh.” George responded. Ron pushed the phone’s ‘off’ button and proceeded to finish dressing. Two minutes later, he and Matt rushed out of their room headed for the garage.

 15 minutes later, the RET office complex

Ron’s silver Mercedes sedan’s tires squealed in protest as he wheeled off of Town Center Drive and dove into the underground parking lot of the prairie style office building, home to Ron, Matt, Dan and Tyler’s business enterprises. Screeching to a halt in Ron’s personal parking spot next to the elevator, the engine had hardly stopped turning when the two occupants rapidly exited the machine, with Matt arriving first at the elevator. He pushed the button and inserted his security card, which called the car to their basement location. Ron had barely rushed up to his partner when the door to the lift opened and they entered. As the doors slowly closed, Matt pushed the button for the first floor, and they waited impatiently as the car moved its way slowly upward.

“Where was Mabel attacked?” Matt asked as the elevator car reached its destination and the doors began to part.

“Margaret’s office,” Ron answered as he shot out of the cab with Matt trailing behind.

When they approached the hallway leading to Margaret’s and Ron’s offices, they saw several people looking into the opened doorway.

“Step aside please,” Ron ordered as he reached the small group. Seeing Ron and Matt’s approach and hearing Ron’s command, the group parted. Ron and Matt stepped to the doorway and saw two paramedics kneeling over Mabel.

“How is she?” Ron inquired with authority.

One of the two paramedics immediately recognized the voice of authority and said without looking up, “It appears she has a concussion. We’re ready to get her to the hospital.” He pulled up on Mabel’s side as the other EMT slid a backboard under the unconscious woman. After making sure she was positioned properly on the board, they lifted her onto a gurney that was parked parallel to her body. Quickly strapping her to the wheeled conveyance, they began to move toward the doorway where Ron and Matt stood.

“Make way,” Ron commanded as he and Matt stepped away from the path of the gurney. The small group again parted clearing a path that led to the front doors of the building where an ambulance, with lights still flashing, waited.

“Where are you taking her?” Ron asked as they passed by.

“UMC,” was the reply.

“We’ll meet you there,” Ron informed the EMTs. “I’m her principal customer and friend. I’ll also contact her family.”

“Thank you sir,” one of the EMTs said as they approached the building’s front doorway. While exiting they were temporarily delayed by the arrival of two Metro officers who after a quick conversation with the EMTs released them to deliver their precious cargo to the hospital.

The Metro officers entered the building where they were met by Ron and Matt.

“I’m Ron Turner, and this is my partner, Matt Davidson,” Ron said. “We own this building and the victim not only is under a cleaning contract with us, but is also a close friend. We were at home when the incident occurred and were called by her lead foreman.

“Thank you, Mr. Turner,” the officer said. “I’m Officer Benning, and this is Officer Cummings. Could you show us the scene and direct us to any witnesses?”

“Follow us,” Ron said turning around and heading back toward his office.

Ron turned to the group still standing near Margaret’s door.

“Who’s George?” Ron asked.

A large black man stepped forward. “I is, suh.”

“George, I’m Ron Turner and this is my partner Matt Davidson. Thanks for calling and for your quick action.” Ron said shaking the large man’s hand.

“You mos’ welcome, suh,” George replied. “I’s Miss Mabel’s head nigg…. uh… guy of dis heah crew. She jes’ comes by now and then to see we’s doin’ our job right.”

“George, these men are Officers Benning and Cummings,” Ron said. “Officers, George called us and knows far more about this attack than we do. Matt and I need to go to the hospital and look after the victim. We’ll also notify her family.”

“I’m sure that will be fine,” Officer Cummings replied. “Do you have a phone number where we can reach you if it’s needed?”

Ron took a card out of his wallet and handed it to the officer. “My office, home and cell numbers are on the card.” The officer handed Ron his own Metro card.

“George, we’re going to go the hospital. Do you have a way for us to call you?” Ron asked.

“Yessuh,” George replied. “Miss Mabel gib me this heah phone,” he said pulling out a cell phone from his coveralls.

Ron wrote down the number, telling George that he’d call as soon as he knew Mabel’s condition.

“Do you know who attacked Mabel?” Matt asked.

“Not sher, suh,” George replied, “but I seen the new guy Abe runnin’ out the do’ when I was workin’. I yelled at him, but he jes’ kep’ on agoin’. He was comin’ from where Miss Mabel was, so I got my wunderin’ up, and went to see what he was runnin’ from.”

“Good work George,” Ron commended. “I know why Mabel made you the leader of your team. Give these officers your every cooperation.”

“Yessuh. Thank you agin suh.”

“No, thank you, George. Mabel is a special friend. We won’t forget your fast action. We’ve got to leave now. If you need to work overtime to finish here, be sure to keep track of your time.”

“We’ll jes’ put the ‘hurry-up’ on. Don’ you worra none suh, we’ll be done on time.”

“We’ll call as soon as we know something,” Matt said repeating Ron’s offer as they stepped away from the large man and the officers, toward the elevator.

“I be listenin’.”

“Goodbye George, officers,” both men said as the doors to the lift opened and they stepped inside.

                                    *                      *                      *

1 AM, UMC, ER waiting room

Tony, Petie and Georgie sat with Ron and Matt in the waiting room in anticipation of the doctor’s arrival with news of Mabel’s condition. Ron had called Tony to tell him of his mother’s attack, and Tony had insisted on waking the two younger boys and coming to the hospital. Ron called his home, asking Jeffery and Robert to pick up the boys and bring them to the hospital. They had arrived only moments before, and Matt met the new arrivals, telling the older pair they could return to their bed, that he and Ron would take the boys home.

The boys had just been told the sketchy details known about the attack when the door to the ER opened and the doctor in his scrubs entered the waiting room and walked to the small group.

“Mr. Turner?” he inquired.

“I’m Ron Turner, doctor. This is Matt Davidson, my partner and these boys are the victim’s sons, Tony, Petie and Georgie.”

“I’m Dr. Tanner sir,” he said offering his hand to Ron and Matt, then the boys. “The patient is doing as well as can be expected. She’s not regained consciousness yet, but our examination shows no signs of permanent damage, so we expect her to come around at any moment.”

“Thanks. That’s a relief doctor,” Ron responded gratefully.

“Yes, we won’t know much more until she becomes conscious, but we’re monitoring her closely.”

At that moment, the speaker overhead announced, “Dr. Tanner, Dr. Tanner. Please call the directory.”

The doctor excused himself, stepped to a wall phone nearby and after pressing three numbers, announced his name. He smiled as he listened, then hung up the receiver.

Stepping back to the group he announced, “She’s regained consciousness. I’ll check her out, then inform you how she’s doing as quickly as I can.”

“We’ll be waiting,” Ron assured the doctor. “Thank you.”

The doctor exited through the door he had entered. The group settled down onto the waiting room furniture for more of what the room was designed for, waiting.

Fifteen minutes later the doctor returned smiling.

“She’s doing well,” He said to the group. “She’s got a bit of temporary amnesia, but that’s not uncommon and 99% of the time it will pass quickly. You may see her if you’d like, but only for a moment. Then I’d suggest you go home and come back tomorrow. A good rest will be just what she needs now.”

“Thanks doctor,” Matt said. “Would you show us the way to where she is?”

“Gladly,” the green suited man said, turning toward the door. “Follow me.”

The group all trailed the doctor to an examining room where they found Mabel on a gurney, hooked up to monitoring equipment.

“Hi Mabel,” Ron said with a smile. “Matt and I brought the boys.”

“Hi Ron, Matt. Hi boys. I’m fine my little ones. Don’t worry about your ol’ Mama.”

“We was sure worried,” Petie said as both of the younger boys took her hand. “When are ya comin’ home?”

“I don’t know yet Petie. It will probably be in the morning if the doctor lets me out of here.”

“How are you feeling, Mama?” Tony asked.

“I’m fine except I got a lulu of a headache. I can’t remember much ‘bout what got me here, but the doctor said that it’s normal when someone is smacked on the head.”

“We’ll bring the boys back in the morning,” Matt offered. “The doctor said you needed to get some rest.”

“I’m sure he’s right,” Mabel verified. “They gave me some medicine and I can tell it’s already making me sleepy.”

“Good,” Ron joined in. “You just get well, and let Matt and me take care of things.”

“You boys are the best,” she said looking at the older men. Then shifting her gaze to her offspring she added, “I love you boys. Ron and Matt will see that everything is ok.” She closed her eyes, and they didn’t open again.

Matt looked at Ron. “She’s asleep boys,” he announced. “Let’s go. She needs her sleep.”

“Come on, squirts,” Tony said. “It’s time to go home and get back to bed.”

“I wanna stay with mama,” Georgie said.

“Sorry little bro,” Tony said. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

Georgie knew that he had to mind his older brother, but stuck out his lower lip in displeasure.

“K, boys,” Ron said, putting his arm around Georgie. “Time to hit the road.”

                                    *                      *                      *

 Wednesday morning, the home of Christine Rogers and her cousin Tracy Clark

 “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck.” Christine raved in anger. “That whore-mongering, son-of-a bitch fucked up! There’s nothing on the TV or newspaper! Damn! Damn! Damn! I’m gonna kill the bastard!”

“Maybe they’ve suppressed the news,” Tracy offered to his raving cousin. “Those fuckin’ cops will do anything to keep us from satisfaction.”

“We’ll see about that,” Christine fumed. “I’ll go take a look. If those explosives went off, that house will be gone.”

“Take me with you,” Tracy pleaded.

“Ok, but we’ve got to leave now. Get out to the car. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Where are you going?” Tracy asked in alarm.

“I’m getting my .357 magnum I’ll bring your gun too. If that house is still there, there’s going to be one dead explosives expert!”

Tracy smiled as he rolled toward the door that led to Christine’s Cadillac. He loved his violent cousin. She was ‘of the blood.’

Down the street two men sat in a blue Ford sedan. It had been a long night, but their boss, Wes, had warned them to be especially vigilant this particular night. They knew that there had been a bombing attempt on Ron Turner’s house that had been foiled, and that Christine Rogers was one of two prime suspects. They became instantly alert when the garage door of the modest house began to rise. A moment later they saw a stout woman roll a wheelchair outside of the garage and turn toward the back of the car that was, from their vantage point unseen. It became obvious that the woman was lifting the wheelchair into the trunk of the vehicle as she struggled to hoist it and it disappeared from their view. She then rounded the rear of the vehicle toward the driver’s side and vanished from sight. In a mere moment the tail of the large sedan appeared as it backed into the street. Both men ducked out of sight and only rose up enough to see that the car was going to head in the other direction, away from them. Resuming his position, the driver turned the ignition key and the large V-8 roared to life. As the Cadillac rounded the corner a block away, the driver put the Ford into ‘drive’ and began their tail. The passenger in the sedan switched on the camera hidden in a spot in the front of the sedan that normally housed “running lights.”

12 minutes later Christine’s luxury car slowly cruised down the street bordering Ron’s estate.

“Look carefully,” Christine ordered. “It’s hard to see the house from the road because of the way it’s hidden behind the low hills in front. You can only get a glimpse of it, but it will be either heavily damaged or gone if the explosion went off. I’d be damned surprised if it’s gone or else there’d be a bunch of cop cars all over this place.”

“You’re probably right,” Tracy said, his anger also mounting. “If it’s still there we’ve got to find our hit man. You hold him, and I’ll shoot the bastard.”

The car crept down the long expanse of the masonry and iron fence that marked the eastern edge of the estate. The Ford sedan had stopped far enough down the street at an intersection to stay out of sight and it’s occupants watched, as the large car got further away, slowly rolling down the hilly road. Suddenly, the Cadillac picked up speed and turned left toward town at the next cross street.

“Let’s hit it,” the passenger said anxiously. “We don’t want to lose them.”

The driver stepped on the gas and was soon barreling down the road at over 60 miles an hour. Slowing quickly as it neared the intersection where the Cadillac turned, both the driver and passenger saw Christine’s car speeding down the hill away from them. They turned and following in pursuit had soon closed the gap to a safe distance to follow without being noticed.

The passenger had not been unoccupied during the tail. He radioed in to the dispatch office at Aztec-Turner Security and had kept the dispatcher informed of their location and the actions of the car in front of them.

As they reported nearing the house of Ron Turner, the dispatcher called the home of Wes Harper as instructed. After receiving the report, Wes had dressed, armed himself and headed in his white Ford Mustang toward Ron’s house. Tuning in to the dispatch frequency, he noted the direction that the Cadillac was headed on leaving the vicinity of Ron and Matt’s property and plotted an intercept. 10 minutes later, stopped at an intersection, he saw the Cadillac pass. Picking up his radio, he ordered the Ford to break off the tail and drop back out of sight while he picked up the chase. As the light changed he quickly turned the corner, keeping the larger vehicle well within sight. The tailing Ford pulled onto a side street as they saw the Mustang take over.

“Where are we going?” Tracy asked Christine.

“I had a GPS transmitter hidden in the false bottom of the box of explosives we furnished, so I know the bastard is staying at the Blue Angel Motel on Fremont. I wanna get there before he hi-tails it out of town.” Christine snarled with anger, a look of hate flaring out of her eyes, “He’s gonna pay for fucking this thing up!”

10 minutes later, the large Cadillac pulled into the parking lot and circled the building to the location of the room of the hit man. As they approached the room, they saw a man throwing a bag into the trunk of a Buick. They pulled up beside him, and knowing it was their man, Christine and her cousin opened fire through Tracy’s open window. The man had turned and recognizing that his attempted escaped had failed, was raising his hands as the first bullet struck his chest. Multiple shots raked his body and that of the car. A stray bullet struck a detonator in a box in the car’s trunk and the resulting chain of explosions set off 8 pounds of plastic explosives still in the box.

A huge blast erupted from the trunk, incinerating the hit man and engulfing the Cadillac. Both the driver of the Cadillac, Christine, and her cousin were instantly killed. The force of the blast destroyed the cars beside the Buick and on the opposite side of the Cadillac. In addition, heavily damaged the walls of the motel in which there were occupied rooms. Windows were broken in buildings a half block away.

The Mustang was just turning into the motel when the blast occurred. Protected from the blast by the building, the car was, nevertheless, slammed by the shock of the explosion. Wes stomped on the brakes, which was almost unnecessary as the force of the explosion had brought the car to an almost instant stop. Seeing the huge plume of smoke behind the building he grabbed his cell phone and dialed 911.

One hour later, in a room at the MGM Grand Hotel.

“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a last minute bulletin!” The voice from the TV said.

The occupant of the room smiled. ‘The first part of Christine’s plan had worked.’ Ron Turner’s house is gone.’ He smiled. He knew that he had been under constant surveillance and his job as decoy had worked. It was time to leave.

“An hour ago a huge explosion ripped the Blue Angel Motel on Fremont Street at Eastern,” the reporter said. “At least 7 people were killed including an unidentified person whose car apparently held the explosives. Also killed were two Las Vegas residents, Mrs. Christine Rogers and her cousin, Tracy Clark. Viewers might remember that Mr. Clark was released on bail for the attempted rape and molestation of a minor at the construction site of the Thornton Center, a facility for homeless gay boys. The blast killed four other occupants of the motel, and injured about a dozen more. The scene is bedlam with police and firemen at the scene. There are no known details released about the cause of, or motive for, the explosion.”

The man sat down on his bed in shock. He knew he would now have to forgo his final payoff. After shaking his head, he picked up the phone and dialed a room in another hotel. When a voice answered he said simply, “Check the TV news. Call me tomorrow in L.A.” He hung up the phone and began packing his bags.

Across town in a third, less elegant, room another man sat stunned as he watched TV. He looked at the rifle and scope that was the trademark of his expertise. He too, at first thought that Christine’s plan was working until he heard the details of the blast. It was his job to gun down the returning Tyler Turner when he rushed back to Las Vegas after hearing of the explosion at his brother’s estate. That plan was now moot. There was no one left to pay him, and he was too much of a businessman to worry about personal revenge for the payoff he’d been promised. ‘Oh well, at least he had the $10,000 down payment. It’s not too bad,’ he assessed with some satisfaction. ‘I made $10,000 for a trip to Las Vegas and for staying in a crummy hotel for three days. Not many Las Vegas visitors have that kind of luck.’ He stood, walked to his bed and began to disassemble the scope and sharpshooter’s rifle, placing the parts into a custom case he had made for the weapon.

                                    *                      *                      *

At the same time, Augusta Georgia, the Clubhouse of the Augusta Golf Club, home of the Masters golf tournament.

“5 over Tyler. Nice round. Let’s see… you got me by 5 strokes net. That’s $500 I owe you,” Peter Zekendorf said after counting up the scores. “Gary I got you by two strokes. You owe me $200. Dad you shot 87. Too bad you didn’t bet with us. We were all prepared to give you plenty of strokes.”

“I never bet with strangers,” the older man, Emmett replied. “I want to see them play first.”

“Tell you what,” Tyler offered. “You buy the drinks and we’ll call it even.”

“I can never resist a bargain,” Peter agreed smiling.

“I can promise you that the round here was worth it,” Tyler responded with satisfaction. “There are 10,000 serious golfers that would give their left nut to play here. We got to play for free.”

“If you call $100 million ‘free’,” Peter said grinning.

“Ah, what’s a few bucks between friends,” Tyler laughed. “Speaking of that, here’s a joke you might enjoy. What’s the difference between Beer Nuts and Deer Nuts?”

“I don’t know.” Peter said ready for the punch line. “Beer nuts are $3.95 and Deer Nuts are under a buck.”

Emmett sat back and roared while Peter let loose with a hearty laugh. Gary laughed along with the other pair as Tyler grinned.

“I hope you’ll come to Las Vegas and let me return the golfing favor,” Tyler said when the laughter subsided. “That goes for either or the both of you,” he added to the father and son. “We may not have an Augusta there, but there are some fine courses. If you want, we can fly to Carmel and play Pebble Beach.”

“I’d like that very much,” Peter said.

“I never was that much for Las Vegas,” Emmett said grimly. “Business was always a big enough gamble for me.”

“I’d been in and out of Las Vegas for months before I moved there,” Tyler responded. “So far, I’ve never gambled there. The only time I gambled was in the Cayman Islands. I will say though, that there is first-class entertainment in Las Vegas all the time. It’s not any cheaper than anywhere else, it’s just always there, ready when you want to avail yourself. The hotels are beautiful too, though a bit noisy with all the slot machines jangling.”

Tyler picked up his cell phone, which had been left in the locker room during the match since it was against club rules to take a cell phone on the course. He turned it on to check his voice mail. Seeing Ron and Wes’ numbers appear, he punched the message first from Ron.

“Excuse me for a moment” he said taking a drink. He listened to the message from Ron and an expression of concern appeared on his face. Ending the message, he punched for Wes’ message. Listening again, he shook his head in disbelief, then ended the second message too.

“Bad news?” Peter asked.

“Yes and no,” Tyler answered. “My brother’s house was planted with explosives. The plot failed when a young boy, his ward, discovered some of them several hours before they were set to go off.”

“The Senator?” Gary asked.

“It doesn’t look like it,” Tyler replied. “This morning Christine Rogers and her cousin tried to take out the presumed explosives hit-man apparently as retribution for the failed attempt, and they were killed in an explosion when one of their bullets hit explosives still in the trunk of the car he was loading. We were tailing them at the time. They are all dead.”

“Wow!” Gary exclaimed. “That sure cleans up one mess.”

“Yeah. Now all we have to worry about is the Senator.”

“This is all very confusing,” Peter exclaimed. “I don’t understand any of it.”

“You’ve not met my brother and his partner, nor heard the whole story,” Tyler said.

“Your brother?” Peter said quizzically.

“Yes, that’s a story in itself. You couldn’t know that I never was told who my father was, only that he provided for me and my mother.”

“That’s unusual, but not unheard of,” Peter replied.

“His name, I discovered after my mother died, was Ronald Turner, a very wealthy Las Vegas business man. He had an affair with my mother, but had a wife from whom he was estranged at the time. Their son and his legal heir was my half-brother Ron. Ron’s mother died when he was in college and our father died three years later. Accidentally I met Ron when the company I worked for, Aztec Security was doing a job for him in Las Vegas. Ron and I were reunited, and he generously gave me what he said was my portion of the family inheritance. I legally took the family name since Ron is the only close blood family I have left. My mother died 4 years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, “It’s a tragic tale.”

“Thank you Peter. I still miss her, and I’m sorry I never knew my father, but I’ve a new life now.”

“So tell us about your brother, the Senator and Christine what’s-her-name,” Emmett requested, full of interest.

“As you know Emmett,” Tyler responded, “fortunes can sometimes make powerful enemies.”

“Yes,” the older man conceded. “I’ve made a few in my time.”

“It’s especially true when you are not afraid to use your wealth to oppose bad people. The Senator’s story is the easiest. The Senator, he’s a State Senator by the way, not a U.S. Senator, has a gay son who he abused and who ran away. Ron rescued the boy and he now resides in a Center for gay youth that Ron helped create in Las Vegas. The senator publicly denounced the center in the press and then tried to kidnap his son, who was legally placed there, to take him to Utah for brainwashing. The kidnappers killed a staff member in the attempt. The kidnapping was ultimately foiled and the senator was named as an accomplice. He’s threatened my brother Ron, and we’re keeping tabs on him to make sure he goes to jail.”

“That’s remarkable,” Peter said, shaking his head.

“The other story involves me,” Tyler continued. “We were at the boys’ center while it was under construction, when two of the electricians tried to molest one of the young workers who was gay, who we had brought along to tour the construction progress. I walked in on the attempt when he was away from us too long, and ended up knocking out one of them and accidentally breaking the back of the other. The brother of the one with the broken back tried to blow us up with explosives. He demolished the apartment building that the young victim lived in, but he escaped, though several others died, including the bomb squad. Another bomb was planted on a company plane we were using to go to Arizona and California. We learned of the plot in time to land the plane and barely escape with our lives before it too blew up. In trying to escape, the brother who was the bomber was bitten on the neck by a rattlesnake while hiding in Arizona and died on the ranch of their cousin, a woman named Christine Rogers. Christine sold her ranch in Arizona for a lot of money, and moved to Las Vegas, ostensibly to care for her cousin with the broken back. Are you with me so far?”

“Barely,” Emmett responded. “What a twisted plot! It sounds like something a crazy man would make up!”

“I think their whole family was crazy,” Tyler replied. “Gary here, working for the FBI, was responsible for saving all our lives.”

“Way to go man,” Peter said giving Gary a high five.

“I didn’t do it alone,” Gary said modestly. “There was a guy with Aztec-Turner that worked with me on it.”

“Yes,” Tyler responded. “That’s who left me the message on my cell phone, our Las Vegas manager of Aztec-Turner, Wes Harper.”

“The first message was from Ron. When the explosives were found at his house, both parties were suspect. The explosives were safely removed. Wes’ message said that Christine and her brother went to assassinate the hit man that had botched the job at Ron’s. It seems that in doing so, one of their bullets struck some explosives still in the trunk of his car, which he was loading to make a get away. Not only was he killed by gunfire, but the car exploded and killed Christine and her cousin, the one with the broken back.”

“That’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard,” Peter responded in amazement.

“Wild but true,” Tyler responded. What’s so amazing is that Ron is the nicest, kindest guy you’d ever meet. He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. He’s not faint-hearted though. He’ll take on anyone who insists on crossing swords with him, though he’s not the one to ever draw first.”

“I’d like to meet him someday,” Peter said.

“Me too. He sounds like a hell of a man,” Emmett added.

“That he is sir. That he is,” Tyler said as Gary nodded in agreement.

                                    *            *            *            *            *