Revenge: A Mick Murphy Mystery

Revenge: A Mick Murphy Mystery

Journalist Mick Murphy is walking across Harvard Yard when his name is called out. He turns and sees the woman of all his sexual fantasies. Under the spell of the pretty Filipina, Murphy is led into her search for the men that abused her brother while he was at Harvard. On the flight back to Los Angeles area, Murphy agrees to put her in contact with some of his old Harvard classmates and they soon begin showing up brutally murdered. His desire for his fantasy girls has him in jeopardy of losing close friends - including his on again/off again romantic interest. When he finally confronts his Filipina about the murders she admits her family is involved in the killings to revenge her brother's suicide. Before it's over Murphy's life is threatened and he learns that his fantasy is more of a nightmare. In the climatic ending Murphy faces the possibity of losing more than friends and a fantasy love. "I am not sorry about making love," she smiled and wiped tears from her eyes. "We should have made love in Boston," she smiled softly. "I am sorry you are involved in this mess. I didn't mean it to happen this way." Before I could respond, the area around us lit up like sunrise and then a thunderous clamor, followed by a smothering heat with force so strong it knocked us to the ground, me on top of Michelle. It happened so fast, it didn't make any sense. My body ached again, before the heat and before we were on the ground. The cacophony hurt my ears, forced me to close my eyes, but the brightness stayed, there was no darkness with my eyes closed. As I fell, I was forced along, like a swimmer caught in a rip tide. I banged against things, trying to catch onto thin air to stop myself, to no avail. I hit something big, that wouldn't move and stopped with a thud. Like a drowning victim, I didn't know which way was up. My vision was blurred, shadows danced all around me, playing tricks on my confused mind. Using my hands I felt the ground, I was facing it, and forced myself to turn and sit up. The pain was horrible, a hundred times worse than the beating. I had a strange ringing in my head that blocked out all other sound. Slowly, accepting the pain, I raised my hands to my eyes, rubbed them, and tried to focus on what was happening around me. My vision wasn't precise, but I could see Michelle, sitting across from me, her head buried between her knees. "Michelle," I coughed, weakly. She didn't move. Blurry shadows danced around, forming weird shapes that confused me more. I couldn't get up, my legs would not obey the command. Fear hid my pain and I crawled toward Michelle. Then I saw the cause of the shadows, the source of all this, my scorched jeep. A bomb. Used Book in Good Condition