By Maureen Tan
Meet Moura. aka Molly. aka Max. aka Jane Nichols. From a rolling place she will be able to attach a knife with an enemy throat. With a couple of punches on a keyboard she will be able to enthrall strangers with a wickedly crafted secret. yet now as ghosts taunt and accountability calls, Jane flees to the moss-draped safe haven of Savannah. Her plans are uncomplicated. To relaxation. to write down. And to seek down the killer of the undercover agent who enjoyed her.
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Extra info for A.K.A. Jane (Jane Nichols, Book 1)
I glanced at Michael. His dark stocking cap, like mine, was pulled down over his ears and forehead for warmth. The moonlight created deep shadows AKA JANE 23 along his cheekbones and glinted off his reddish-blond mustache and beard. He turned his head, flashed me a grin. A pirate, I thought suddenly and for no particular reason, and I wondered if men were still hung from the yardarm. Just as suddenly, I found myself hoping they weren’t. My thoughts didn’t surprise me. Jailers and inmates, terrorists and hostages, kidnappers and victims—the pattern of reaching out from isolation to someone, anyone, was well documented.
Maybe I felt I owed it to Brian—and to you—to carry on, to serve Her Majesty’s government without reservation. And I have. I’ve been with this organization for twelve years. I’ve given as much as anyone should be asked to give. So now I’m asking, Mac. ” Mac’s raised eyebrows told me that I hadn’t imagined the note of entreaty I heard in my own voice. It seemed to linger and echo back at me from the corners of the office. For a long time, he studied me with his pale blue eyes. “This is a hard business, Jane, but I’ve never asked you for anything you couldn’t do.
He was dragged, dying, back to the tenement. Michael had struggled to stop the bleeding. Then, accepting the inevitable, he had held the boy in his arms, wiped the bloody spittle from his lips, and helped him murmur his final prayers. Minutes later, Michael was loudly cursing the dead man for bleeding all over his best shirt. He spent the rest of the night telling us, in great detail, about a miserable tomcat he had drowned. Grudgingly, I admitted that I had become attached to Michael. But I was not naive.
A.K.A. Jane (Jane Nichols, Book 1) by Maureen Tan