by Jacob Chance
QUAKE
Copyright 2016 Jacob Chance
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.
Cover design by Jessica Hildreth
Edited by Robin Bateman
This book contains mature sexual themes as well as kidnapping and attempted rape.
Dedication
This book is dedicated to all the people in the indie author community who’ve believed in me and supported me from day one. Your faith in me and QUAKE is greatly appreciated and won’t be forgotten.
And to Andrea – Maybe in the next life…
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One - Kyle
Chapter Two - Kyle
Chapter Three - Janny
Chapter Four - Kyle
Chapter Five- Janny
Chapter Six - Kyle
Chapter Seven - Janny
Chapter Eight - Kyle
Chapter Nine - Janny
Chapter Ten - Kyle
Chapter Eleven - Janny
Chapter Twelve - Kyle
Chapter Thirteen - Janny
Chapter Fourteen - Kyle
Chapter Fifteen - Janny
Chapter Sixteen - Kyle
More from the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
If you’d asked me when I was in college what I thought I would be doing in ten years’ time, this wouldn’t have been my answer. Life as a private investigator isn’t as exciting as one might think. Sure, there are moments of danger which get my adrenaline pumping and when that happens, no other high can compare. I used to live for that feeling and for a while you could even say I was addicted to it. But the choices we make have consequences and one decision can change everything.
These days I do a lot of watching and even more waiting. I’m the guy people pay to find the truth buried under all the lies. Eventually, I see past the surface of who you’re pretending to be, revealing all that you’ve kept hidden and I know firsthand appearances can be deceiving.
Chapter One
Kyle
Present Day
Fuck it. I can’t fight the urge any longer.
I type the commands to bring up the main screen, checking to see which room she’s in. I find her in the bedroom she uses, still bundled up in her comforter, just like I’ve imagined. I maximize her room up on the screen.
I watch her as she lowers the comforter down to her waist, before pushing it all the way to the end of the bed with her feet. Her hand slides down into the front of her panties and for a moment I think I must be imagining this.
Oh Jesus.
My heartbeat kicks up a notch and my cock goes rock hard as she tips her head back and parts her lips in pleasure. I can see her fingers slowly circling her clit through her sheer white panties and I pretend it’s my hand making her gasp and twitch. Her eyes are closed in concentration, the fullness of her bottom lip is clenched between her teeth. She’s absolutely focused on the overwhelming ecstasy she’s experiencing.
My cock is so hard it’s straining against my jeans. I undo the button and pull down my zipper, the sound it makes echoes through the silence of my office.
She trails her other hand up her stomach and tweaks her nipple.
Christ, I’m going to come in my pants if I don’t get a move on. I breathe a sigh of relief when my dick is freed from my clothing. Holding it tightly in my fist, my eyes never leaving the blonde siren on my screen, I slowly stroke up and down a few times, I use my thumb, spreading the pre-come around the tip, before gripping it tighter. I move my hand faster and faster as her fingers pick up the pace and her eyes squeeze shut. She spreads her legs wide and digs her heels into the mattress and at the same time air expels from my lungs. The fingers of my free hand grip the desk so hard, my knuckles are white, while I try to fight back my release. Fuck. She’s so hot. All I want to do is bury myself inside her tight, wet pussy and feel her unravel around me.
Her back arches up off the bed and her mouth opens in a soundless cry as she finds her release. Watching her is the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. I come all over myself when my orgasm hits me quick and hard. I carefully remove my shirt, cleaning up with it, before resting my head back against the chair. While I wait for my breathing to settle down there’s only one thought in my mind—I have to meet Janny Moore.
Chapter Two
Kyle
Two Days Ago
“Hey man. What’s going on?” Derek my business partner asks as he pokes his head in my office.
“Not much. I’m working on the Moore case; I have a feeling this job is going to be a big waste of time.” I glance at the screen, feeling sorry for the poor schmuck I’m watching.
Our company, K.D. Investigations, was hired by Sharon Moore to check into her husband Bryan, after she noticed him exhibiting some suspicious behavior. She couldn’t give me any concrete examples of what he was doing that she found so worrisome. But, she asked for a full scale investigation and mentioned money not being a concern, which is good because our services don’t come cheap.
“Who spends thousands of dollars to investigate their husband based on a gut feeling?”
“Who knows? Women are crazy, dude. Who knows why they do anything? I’m leaving now to go do an estimate. I’ll talk to you later.” He pushes off the doorjamb and is gone before I have a chance to say anything.
My partner Derek and I installed cameras in the Moore’s house after Sharon agreed to give up any sense of privacy. Bryan works from home as a graphic designer which simplifies things and means I can monitor his daily whereabouts relatively easily. When he leaves their house, I use the app I installed on his brand new phone, to track his movements. Coincidentally, it’s the phone his adoring wife gifted him. Ironically, she gave it to him for Valentine’s Day.
Today is my first official day on the job. So far Bryan’s done nothing but work on the computer and eat a sandwich. I can tell this is going to be a long day. I shift in my seat trying to get more comfortable, when movement at the side of the video feed catches my attention. A young woman walks into Bryan’s office, she has 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 and as she walks out of his office, 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 patientl
y answered all of 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 definitely 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, caressing their worn bindings. The camera above her 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 have 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.
When I push the frosted glass door open and 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 sure how to answer him, my head is in a fucked up place right now, I can’t stop thinking about Janny Moore. The way my body physically reacted to seeing her today has me feeling out of sorts, I’m not used to my heart pounding uncontrollably unless I’m in a dangerous situation. Maybe my body knows something I don’t. Maybe Janny Moore is dangerous to me. “It’s all good,” I reply, keeping my thoughts of her to myself. My hand closes around the cold handle of the mug and I drink back a good portion in one long gulp.
Derek looks at me with an eyebrow cocked upwards. “What’s up with you dude?” he asks, gesturing with his chin toward my now almost empty mug.
I typically nurse my beer, preferring hard liquor. “My head’s fucking killing me and it’s been a long ass day,” I answer, not taking my eyes off the nearest television broadcasting ESPN. It’s something for me to focus on to keep my mind off of this dull this throbbing pain behind my eyes.
“Did you take your meds?” he asks, referring to the migraine medication my doctor prescribed.
When I glance at him I can see the concern for me showing on his face. “Yeah, I did, but for some reason it’s not working.” I drink down the rest of my beer, set the empty mug down and throw ten-dollars on the bar. “I’m going to be shit company tonight. I’m just going to go home and crash.” I slide off the stool and turn to clasp his shoulder with my hand. “Sorry dude. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”
“Don’t worry about it man.”
Once I’m home I head straight for my bedroom, removing my clothes as quickly as possible. I place my gun on the nightstand and set my phone down next to it. When I settle back into the comfort of my pillows my thoughts drift to Janny and I wonder what she’s doing right now. Is she lying in her bed at this moment? My cock twitches as I picture her wrapped up in the king sized, white comforter.
We didn’t put any cameras in the master bedroom or any of the bathrooms, but we did put them in the other three guest bedrooms. When we’d done the installation, we weren’t aware of anyone else living there other than Sharon and Bryan. I could check the live video right now and see what she’s doing. The temptation to see her is so powerful it’s all I can do not to succumb to it. Instead, I close my eyes and try to relax. The sooner I fall asleep the sooner I can get some peace from the pounding ache in my skull and when I wake up I’ll be able to see Janny.
***
I wake up earlier than I’d like. I hold my body still for a moment, avoiding any motion and take stock of how my head’s feeling. There’s still a bit of a dull throb going on, but this beats the skull splitting ache of last night. Dealing with this pain on a regular basis is exhausting, but there’s nothing that can be done aside from taking narcotic pain meds. Which I refuse to do. I’ve seen too many people’s lives ruined by opiate addictions and I won’t ever willingly put myself in such a position. No one ever sets out to become an addict, but once those pills have you in their grasp, their torturous grip squeezing the life out of you, there’s no escaping.
I’ve been dealing with chronic pain for so long I can’t remember what it’s like to feel good. What I wouldn’t do for a day of no aching or throbbing—no fuck that, I’d be satisfied with an hour. Any relief from this burden would be an incredible gift. It weighs heavily on me, but I’ve got the broad shoulders to carry it. Still a day doesn’t pass where I don’t wish I could go back in time and relive the moment which changed my whole life.
A long hot shower can work wonders and after the one I just took I’m feeling close to normal. I’m working from home today so I grab some coffee from the kitchen and head into my home office. My desk is custom made, double the length and half the width of a normal one. This allows me to use a triple monitor setup and I can watch multiple spaces in Bryan’s house at one time. I type in the commands to bring his office up on my screen my thoughts temporarily wander to Janny, but I push her out of my mind.
Watching Bryan work on his computer is one of the least interesting jobs I’ve ever taken. This guy is boring as fuck and I’m earning every penny of my money on this gig. Sitting in my car for an all-night stakeout would beat this. I wish he’d leave the house just to switch it up, but he continues to sit there, shoulders rolled forward, typing furiously on his keyboard. Ben our computer specialist installed software monitoring system and he’s tracking Bryan’s every online move. Hopefully he finds something wrong soon, because I might die of fucking boredom on this job. I drum my fingers on my desk and fight the urge to check on Janny.
The next few days pass quickly, leaving me with no new information acquired about Bryan. For all intents and purposes, he seems to be the perfect husband. He works in his office all day long and then has dinner waiting on the table when she comes home. From what I’ve seen he’s extremely attentive. He’s always listening to what she has to say, showering her with affection, often touching her in some small way, like a dance only couples who’ve been
with each other for a long time have mastered.
While I sit here typing up my case notes for my records, my mind is distracted with images of Janny. It’s been a couple of days since I saw her, but I find her invading my thoughts more than she should be. Flashes of her back arched in the throes of her orgasm consume me. It was the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen. It’s unfortunate she’s not the slightest bit aware of the desire she’s inspired in me. I can’t remember the last time I hungered for someone so much or came with such force.
I’m disappointed she hasn’t been around the house at all the past two days. I know she’s a student at Boston University and I’m assuming her course load is keeping her busy, but I’ve missed seeing her. I’ve missed her beautiful smile that can infuse the entire room with light, I’ve missed the way she tips her head to the right when she’s paying close attention to what someone’s saying. I’ve missed the way she tucks her hair behind her left ear and chews on the side of her full bottom lip when she’s lost in her thoughts. Every time I see her I notice more. My instincts allowing me to see beyond what the average person does. Everything I’m observing about her makes me want to know her, to know who she really is. I want the flesh and blood version of her, not the muted one on a screen. I’m curious to know what makes her laugh and what makes her cry. Which does she prefer, Mexican or Chinese food? How old was she when she was kissed for the first time? What’s the name of the lucky bastard who took her virginity?
There are so many questions I need to know the answers to—questions I’ve never been interested in knowing the answers to before now. I’ve never felt this burning intensity for someone. I’m a solitary guy by nature, even more so for the past few years, but every single cell of my broken soul is pushing me toward her.