By Maureen Tan
Affected by thoughts of her lover's homicide, burnt-out MI5 operative Jane Nichols strikes to Savannah, Georgia, and devotes herself to writing hard-boiled deepest eye novels, even though, among Savannah's ancient homes is an enemy from her prior.
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Extra resources for A.K.A. Jane (Jane Nichols, Book 1)
It was probably another short circuit in a place he’d never checked before. He’d ﬁxed the bridge gyro compass twelve times in the last month. This time would have made a baker’s dozen. But then something exploded within the ship, and he found his ears ringing and his six-foot-two, two-hundred-thirty pound frame ﬂying through the air, crashing through the door to the CO’s stateroom. Ferociously, the deck bounced up and down, and then up again, as if some great leviathan had grabbed hold of the Chevalier’s bow and was using her to swat ﬂies on the ocean’s surface.
Like the good sailor he was, he began to make his way carefully along the tilted deck to carry out his orders. He couldn’t help it if the ship’s ofﬁce was on the way. TREMAIN’S skin felt warm and then cool—sticky and then slippery. He couldn’t breathe for what seemed like minutes, and then all of a sudden he could, taking in deep breaths of a strangely putrid yet sweet smelling mixture of air and petro leum vapor. The old wound throbbed on the side of his head, along with several new ones. His whole body ached, but he was familiar 48 R.
After staring at the motionless body for several minutes and collecting his senses, Tremain ﬁnally concluded that it was not one of the men who had been with him on the torpedo mount. Rolling over onto his side, he felt a sensation that the ship was rapidly slowing. One glance forward through the drifting clouds of smoke told him why. The Chevalier’s star board breakwater shield was missing, allowing Tremain an uninhibited view up forward. And his eyes could scarcely be lieve what they saw. The Chevalier’s bow had been severed, completely blown off.