Jack Malain Novels & Stories

“And we’ve got a problem with ghosts in old uniforms.” A beat. “Michelle?” “Maybe,” Jack said. “Or a very good mimic.” Gale exhaled. “Get me proof. And Jack—” “Yeah?” “Don’t die,” she said. “I don’t have time to replace you.” He almost smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He looked at Susan, at Pauly, at Bruno, at the crates sweating poison under white lights. At the space where his team used to stand. “Round three,” he said, too quiet for anyone but himself. “Your move.”

Jamaal and mystery man. ******

"Okay, I'll speak with Dellan about it. You must, however, organize your time because you still need to learn about finances.” “Yes ma’am” I nodded my head politely. Dellan was the head trainer and Ms Ravens right hand man. His appearance was Dominating. He was 6’5 and very masculine but also handsome. After brunch, Jack approached me from a distance while I was sitting in one of the lawn chairs admiring the view and enjoying the refreshing breeze in the flower garden. “I've heard that you desire to commit murder.” He gave my left shoulder a pat before settling in next to me.

I dismissed Oliver and walked up to Jackson. "Jackson Mark-Anthony." I called, a curt smile playing on my lips. He smirked. "Christian Hales, long time no chat." He said calmly, good-natured but I knew better than that good guy facade he was keeping on. "Yeah, didn't think you were coming back." I replied. He let out a short chuckle and looked back at me. "Of course. Did you think I'd stay back and let you have all the fun here. Never ." Jackson smirked with sarcasm laced in his voice. I let out a calming breath.

“ Take a break and eat something . You must be hungry . “ said Jack . “ I have to finish this first . “ said Mel . Jack continued to eat as he looked at Mel . Until he finished the whole plate he just kept starting at Mel . “ Hey ! “ said Mel annoyed . “ What ? “ asked Jack . “ Even when you eat you keep looking at me . Has anyone taught you that it is impolite to stare at other people ?! “ said Mel . “ I don’t stare at people . It takes a lot to grab my attention . So , feel honoured . “ said Jack . “ I don’t feel honoured at all . Look at something else and stop bothering me . “ said Mel , continuing to write . “ ….I am curios now . Do you know who I am ? “ asked Jack . “ I know , the famo

"Aaron told me Jack is co-operative throughout the thing, which is kind of suspicious. He didn't try to attack anyone, didn't even give them the usual death glares. What's up with him?" I knew why. "I think he's giving up, Ken. He's had enough." Ken shook his head. "That's too theatrical. Do you think Jackson, the one who is so famous for killing over a dozen people is just going to give up because he is tired of interrogation?" He gave a laugh. "You're thinking wrong, sister." "Oh, so you have it all figured out?" I asked, folding my arms over my chest. "Let me listen to your theory Amateur Detective Ken Frazer."

Mistakes could also be made because they provided room for growth. It wasn't long before Ben showed up with a giant goofy grin on his face. "Hey girls, did I miss the party?" "Jesus Christ," Jack muttered under his breath and got up to grab himself a drink. "Where are you going princess?" "I need alcohol to deal with you, both of you." Jack was the more serious one of the trio. He was the voice of reason; constantly talking them out of one mischievous idea or the other. "Grab me one while you're at it," Ben replied, taking out his phone.

Next to him, the Jackal—still limping from his last close encounter with a bullet—was trying to stretch his thigh muscle mid-crouch like a drunk flamingo. “This is stupid,” the Jackal whispered through gritted teeth. “You said this plan was clean.” “It is clean,” Kain muttered. “Tactically streamlined, minimum exposure, zero casualties.” “Except my kneecap.” “Your kneecap was already suicidal before we got here.” The Jackal groaned and adjusted the brace strapped to his leg. “Why are we doing recon again? We’re not exactly inconspicuous. I walk like a wounded rhino and you keep breathing like a bulldog having an asthma attack.”

Doc decided that he needed to learn about this HYDRATE command that they were always shouting at each other. But for now, he was going to focus on the newest member of the group around the fake campfire. Jack was larger than Doc, but not as big as Jill. His red hair was in a regulation flat top and face was clean shaven. His issued BDUs hugged his five feet eleven frame. Jack had only been in the country for a week, whereas Jill, Gunny, and Celeste had been in for six. Doc had joined their merry band earlier that day. “I always knew that Sles was a bit off, but I never saw her as being a perv,” Doc observed.