The Complete Quake Series Boxset - Jacob Chance Page 0,1

long, wavy blonde hair and if I had to guess I’d say she appears to be in her early to mid-twenties. She speaks with him for only a minute, before turning toward the doorway. I’m already typing in the commands, giving me access to see the rest of the house. My eyes track the way she moves confidently from room to room, like she belongs there. Who is this woman and why didn’t Sharon mention her?

The next morning is almost an exact replica of the first, Bryan works diligently on his computer and I haven’t noticed any behavior that would throw up a red flag. I see the mystery woman again, only she’s no longer a mystery. Her name is Janny and she’s Bryan’s younger sister who stays with them sometimes. She’s a college student who lives on campus and comes to their house whenever she wants to get away. Sharon patiently answered all the questions I asked about Janny, under the guise of the “investigation.”

Watching her on the monitor is quickly becoming the best part of this job. The graceful way she maneuvers through simple household chores is more pleasing to the eye than Bryan is. Currently, she’s talking on her phone as she walks from one side of the living room to the other, pacing back and forth ten times before she switches it up and moves towards the fireplace. When she stops in front of the mantle she touches the various objects displayed there, she runs her finger along the top of a framed picture of Sharon and Bryan, before moving along to pick up a crystal vase filled with fresh flowers. After lowering her face to inhale their scent, she returns the vase to its original spot and moves on to a grouping of neatly stacked books. Her fingers gently caress their worn bindings. The camera above is hidden by the large floral painting hanging on the wall and while Janny stands there slowly paging through a book I see her face clearly for the first time.

My breath catches in my throat and my heart feels as though it stops, just to restart at a faster tempo. My fingers curl around the arms of my chair and my grip tightens as I automatically lean forward in my seat hoping to catch a better glimpse of her. Her face lights up as she smiles at whoever she’s on the phone with and her ethereal beauty unsettles me. What the hell? I’ve never experienced this kind of reaction to a woman before and I don’t want to now. My eyebrows draw together and lower into a scowl of disgust as I switch back to the screen with Bryan. He’s who I need to focus on, not some inconsequential woman I shouldn’t be watching in the first place. For the remainder of my shift I refuse to let myself seek Janny out on the video feed no matter how powerful the urge is.

After passing off my Bryan watching duties to Jack, one of the other P.I.’s we employ, I leave to meet my partner Derek at one of our favorite hole in the wall pubs in South Boston or “southie” as the residents refer to it. Murphy’s Irish Pub is located on the corner of a major intersection so finding a parking spot can be a real bitch. Tonight, I luck out and I’m immediately able to park my brand new black Charger curbside. Walking toward the entrance my eyes automatically scan the surrounding area for anything suspicious.

Once a cop always a cop.

Pushing the frosted glass door open, I enter the dimly lit space. I’m overwhelmed by what can only be described as an assault on my senses. The lack of light combined with the bone rattling beat and the deafening volume of the music has me steadying myself to maintain my balance. My gaze reflexively sweeps the room before searching for Derek. He’s seated right where I knew he’d be, on the last stool, furthest from the front door, affording him the best vantage point to monitor the entire room. My chin lifts in acknowledgement, when I walk past a couple of guys I know from the neighborhood I grew up in. Once I’m seated on the stool next to Derek’s, I reach behind me and make sure the pullover I’m wearing is camouflaging the gun tucked in the back of my pants.

“How’s it going, man?” he asks, sliding a freshly poured mug of beer my way.

I’m not