Unmemorable: Unmemorable Series, #1

By A.P. Jensen

A housekeeper with mad street smarts collides with a supernatural bodyguard who's been sent to protect her from an underground war that has raged for centuries. 

Raven leads a solitary existence and that's the way she likes it, but the life she knows turns upside down when her apartment gets gunned down and Cain Henson steps in. Cain's been sent by a Seer who believes Raven is a woman of prophecy that can control an ancient army no one can see. 

Filled with romance, intrigue, magic and a kick-ass heroine, Unmemorable will lead you on a wild adventure that will keep you on the edge of your seat and guessing until the last page. 

Book 1 in the Unmemorable Series, a paranormal romance intrigue novel for adults only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.P. Jensen
• Release date: May 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781513011615

A.P. Jensen

A. P. Jensen was born and raised in Kamuela, a small town on the Big Island of Hawaii. She spent several years on the mainland (Las Vegas and Austin) before coming home in November 2012 to pursue her writing career. A. P. Jensen loves to read, write, travel, watch movies, listen to old timer's talk about the good old days and daydream. She has two dogs, Ali'i and Maile who are world travelers and tolerate the long hours she spends in front of the computer. A. P. Jensen writes in three different genres: YA Fantasy, Paranormal Romance and Contemporary Romance.

Book preview

1

Raven stared into a rectangular mirror surrounded by naked light bulbs, searching her reflection for… something. Light poured over a young woman with a fair complexion and pin straight, inky black hair. Hazel eyes gleamed beneath long bangs. She turned her face from side to side, frowned and clutched the sides of the bathroom sink. Her body was rigid with tension as she tried to control the compulsion to pack the little she possessed and run. She stood with her teeth clenched for several moments before she let out a long breath.

Raven ran a trembling hand over her uniform, a loose fitted gray tunic with shiny black buttons down the front and matching gray slacks. She walked out into a bedroom lit by a tiny rectangular window high up on the wall. There was an air mattress and lamp on the floor beside a clear storage box of clothes. Nothing hung in the closet. Raven tossed an extra change of clothes into her purse and shrugged on a jacket before she walked into her minuscule living room/kitchen.

Rays of sun touched dark yellow walls that should have long since been repainted. The tile floor needed to be replaced and iron bars on the window cast dreary lines over the room. An old TV sat on a cooler in front of a tattered plaid love seat. Unable to shake off the feeling of impending danger, she stood completely motionless and listened. She could hear her neighbor’s TV set that never shut off, someone gunned a car engine in the parking lot and two women several doors down argued. Like her neighbor’s TV, they never shut off.

Raven walked over to the window and stood off to the side as she peered through the blinds. Nothing looked out of place. What was bothering her? She’d lived in this apartment building for six months. It was long enough to recognize her neighbors, if just through thin walls. She was becoming accustomed to a routine and now the familiar, gut-wrenching panic was back, twisting her insides. She didn’t know how to control it. In the past, whenever she felt this way, she was on the road within the hour.

She had a good job for the first time in her life and she didn’t want to move on. She walked over to the front door and looked through the peephole before she cracked it open with the chain still attached. Cold air rushed in and she flinched. She unchained the door, looked left and right and then at the parking lot below. She noted two cars she’d never seen before. A man leaned idly against one of the cars, smoking a cigarette while a woman walked away from the dumpster, rubbing her hand on the leg of her jeans.

Raven eyed the man again before she snatched her purse and forced herself to step out of the apartment. She walked briskly towards the iron stairs and passed two apartments on her way. Metal clanged as she trotted down the steps towards a white 1990 Saturn. She unlocked the door, slid onto the driver’s seat and pushed the lock down with her elbow, which made her feel marginally safer. She gave the old car a few minutes to warm up, tentatively tried the heater and flinched when cold air blasted out of the vent. She turned it off, put the car in gear and winced at the outpouring of holiday cheer on the radio. She switched to the CD player and shouted Do It Like A Dude with Jessie J.

The farther away she drove from her apartment complex, the better she felt. She wove her way through the back roads to the employee parking garage at Decadent, a casino on the infamous Strip in Las Vegas. She flashed her employee badge at the security guard and parked on the fourth level. She grinned with evil glee as she pulled into a stall beside a gleaming BMW. Secretly hoping the owner would be horrified to see such a piece of junk beside their new car, she got out of the Saturn and jogged down four flights of stairs to the employee entrance and flashed her badge at the second security guard.

There was an excited hum in the usually dreary halls. Employees waited in line to store their belongings in garment bags before going off to their departments. Raven waited at the back of the line, still singing Do It Like A Dude and ignored her coworkers who exchanged dinner plans for Thanksgiving feasts after work. Once she reached the front of the line, Raven swiped her badge and watched the racks rotate. A narrow glass door popped open when it stopped on her employee number. She quickly unzipped the garment bag, tossed her purse and jacket inside and zipped it back up.

A glance down at her watch told her that she had less than eight minutes to get to her floor to clock in. She received an electrical shock from the static when she pushed the button for the service elevator. While she waited, she looked down at her ragged fingernails and bruised forearms, compliments of her job. Someone sidled up beside her.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Raven looked up. The man’s uniform informed her that he’d be spilling his holiday cheer all over the halls as he delivered breakfast to unsuspecting guests.

Raven gave him a fake smile and mumbled, You, too.

You have plans after work? he asked.

The elevator dinged and as people rushed in, she buried herself in the back of the crowd, away from the too friendly room service worker. The doors closed, reminding her of an airplane, where everyone breathed each other’s air and sat way too close to one another. Resisting the urge to hold her breath, Raven waited as the elevator stopped on different floors and relaxed when she climbed to the higher floors by herself.

An automated female voice said, Fifty fifth floor. Going down.

Raven exited the service elevator and walked into the storage room where her days of torture began. The room was the size of a handicap bathroom stall filled with vacuums, chemicals and an impenetrable wall of toilet paper. Ten housekeepers crammed together to peer at a tiny clock on a laptop barely visible beneath a mountain of micro fiber rags. Several women glanced around to see who entered and sneered at Raven in welcome. They shuffled tighter together, as if Raven would muscle her way through to clock in before them.

Raven absently bit off a hangnail and looked up when the first woman slid her card through the slot. There was a beep and a murmur of excitement passed through the assembled ladies. The term holiday pay was said with a great deal of satisfaction. Instead of moving out of the way now that they were clocked in, most of the women stayed put, blocking Raven’s way. In danger of being officially late, she made her way through the chattering women, tossing out an elbow at several opportune moments.

Buenos Dias!

A woman wearing a too tight black suit with gaping buttons down the front stood in the doorway. Her uniform had two names on the shiny badge, broadcasting to all that she was in management. Rose had a bright smile on her usually grim face. She waved a handful of papers and conducted a ten-minute pre-shift spoken in Spanish. The other women nodded, added their input and discussed business for the day while Raven continued to hum Do It Like A Dude. She didn’t bother to ask them to speak English, which was company policy. She simply didn’t care. Cleaning was cleaning.

Rose handed out the sheaf of papers with the room assignments for the day. The women passed the papers around and ignored Raven completely.

Rose looked up and waved the last paper. Raven?

Raven raised her hand as she did every morning. That’s me.

Most of the women looked around and seemed surprised to find her in their midst. Rose shrugged and handed the paper to the nearest woman to pass through the crowd. Raven examined her room assignments for the day with raised brows. The penthouse? Each housekeeper had to finish ten credits. Since the penthouse was so huge, it counted for half of her credits, the equivalent of five regular rooms.

The housekeepers hustled out of the storage closet like troops ready for battle. Raven crumpled her paper into a ball and stuffed it in her pocket. She breathed in the scent of disinfectant cleaners, took a stack of microfiber rags and tucked them under one arm. Instead of riding the service elevator, Raven used the emergency exit stairs and jogged up four flights to the fifty ninth floor where all her rooms were located except for the penthouse. She walked down the thick-carpeted hallway and eyed her rooms. There were three lights beneath the illuminated room number. Blue meant do not disturb, green signaled that the occupant was ready for service and the white light meant the guest didn’t care either way. Raven was happy to see at least two of the rooms were green. She decided to wipe out the five single rooms and spend the second half of the day in the penthouse where she could take her time.

She headed to the storage room where her cart was stored. Two fellow housekeepers gossiped as they loaded their carts with towels, sheets, lotion and water glasses. Neither tried to talk to Raven, which suited her just fine. Her cart was stocked from the day before so she unplugged it and used the forward and backwards buttons to maneuver it out of the room and into the guest hallways. She rang the doorbell of the first green-lit room and waited a few seconds before she pushed the doorbell again. No answer. She tugged on the room key attached to a retractable chain on her hip and swiped the card over the lock. The door flashed, allowing her entrance. She turned the handle and opened the door several inches.

Housekeeping!

No answer. Raven paused in the doorway and listened. Housekeepers, like cops, learned to be cautious when they entered a room. She sniffed the air for the smell of vomit, drugs or cooking. Nothing. She called again and waited for a bellowed come back later! but nothing happened. Raven flipped on the lights and rounded the corner. Bed empty. She peeked into the bathroom and grimaced. Trashed. She headed back to her cart, snapped on gloves and placed her cart in front of the doorway to discourage people from entering. She kicked a rubber doorstop beneath the door to prop it open as a precautionary measure for her safety in case the guest was psychotic. Also, most guests didn’t like the thought of someone cleaning their room with the door closed. It was better on both sides if the door was open at all times.

Raven cleaned quickly and methodically with experience gained from homes, motels and restaurants. She worked in a circle, taking care of one section of the room before moving onto the next. In Raven’s opinion, the best thing about being a housekeeper was working alone. For the most part, the only people you talked to during the day were the guests you passed in the hall. The downside to this was you had too much time to think and developed a tendency to talk to yourself.

Raven glanced out of the window that ran the whole length of the room. Looking out over Las Vegas wasn’t particularly inspiring, but the fact that she was cleaning a room with this type of view made her realize how far she’d come. Gone were the days of cleaning pay-by-the-hour motel rooms. She took a leap of faith by applying to this casino. She nearly passed out when her prepaid phone rang one dreary morning and told her she got the job. She was making almost fifteen bucks an hour, six dollars more than what she was used to. Cleaning was all she knew. Having housekeeping experience was like having secretarial experience for middle class women. It was something to fall back on when all else failed. Raven was used to getting paid under the table and in the past, preferred it. This was the first legit job she ever had. Even though she scrubbed toilets and picked up used condoms, she was proud to be here. She was determined to ignore the panicky feeling that came upon her this morning and stay.

Five hours later, Raven rode the elevator to the ground floor and dashed to the cafeteria, which was a beehive of employees dressed in bland hotel uniforms. Raven passed the front desk girls who were all beautiful, thin and fake. A jaded cocktail waitress counted her tips while her ass hung out of her uniform. Raven walked down the buffet line and loaded up her plate. Housekeepers, the largest department in every hotel, dominated most of the cafeteria. Raven sat at the end of a table with the other gray uniformed maids.

Raven listened to them talk as she ate. She knew each person at the table. Martha had an abusive husband and Jolie kept telling her to leave him. Marie was young and always ready to party despite being the single parent of two kids. Banchi was serious and rail thin, here to work in America on a work Visa from Ethiopia. Jack was married and sleeping with one of the housekeepers and Ted spent most of his time hiding in storage closets and refused to answer his phone when the guests requested items to be delivered to their room.

Marie noticed Raven and smiled at her. You want to come out tonight?

Where are you going? Raven asked without much interest.

I think we’re going to start at XS Nightclub at the Wynn and hop from there, Marie said with the faintest hint of a Southern drawl. She wrote her number down and handed it to Raven. It’ll be fun. You have a man?

No.

"Then you should definitely come! Call that number if you show up."

Raven took the number and stuffed it in her pocket. Ten minutes later, she dumped her tray and rode up to the sixtieth floor where there was a penthouse suite on each corner of the hotel. She stopped in front of the double doors to the penthouse and felt her heart speed up. The penthouse ran for five grand a night, more than she made in two months. Raven took a breather and leaned against the metal cart, her constant companion and occasional crutch when she was tired. Raven looked into the brown metal at her reflection and blotted her shiny face. She tried for a friendly smile and managed a sneer. Giving herself time to gather what professional skills she possessed, Raven filched her room assignment paper out of her pocket, smoothed it out and squinted to read the name of the guest. Rich Henson.

Raven took a moment to guzzle water from the bottles the hotel charged eight dollars for. She was behind schedule because of the other rooms. An Asian couple, judging from their toiletries and the rice everywhere, made it their mission to cook enough for everyone on their floor of the hotel. Another room had six people staying in it and the mess they created made Raven wonder temporarily if pay by the hour hotels weren’t that bad after all. She tried to smooth away the wrinkles and questionable smudges at the bottom of her tunic. No such luck. Flicking off a grain of rice that clung to her arm, she straightened her shoulders and rang the doorbell. She silently prayed that Rich Henson wasn’t the father of five and opened the door.

Housekeeping!

The entrance hall was grand with high ceilings and a glittering chandelier that threw prisms of color on the white marble floor. Trying not to gape like a country jack, she took a step in and called out again. No answer. She stepped into a bathroom on the left and found it untouched. So far, so good. She closed the door, walked down a short hallway and faced the main room. For a few seconds, she was struck speechless.

The penthouse was as big as a house. To the left was a top of the line kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a marble island. Floor to ceiling windows two stories tall highlighted the beautiful room. Beyond the kitchen was a huge living room with two TV’s and stylish, chic furniture. A sweeping staircase made of glass led to an upper floor with two double doors on either side of the stairs.

Housekeeping. Raven tried to yell but her voice was curiously weak. She cleared her throat and managed a louder, Housekeeping!

She didn’t sense anyone’s presence, but she wanted to be sure. Raven started up the stairs, which was a pain from a cleaning standpoint, but it sure made an impression. The glass wasn’t frosty but as pure as Cinderella’s slipper and completely transparent. She felt as if she were walking on solidified water. Only the light that bounced off the stairs made her aware of where one ended and the other began.

She turned to the right and knocked on the first set of double doors, called out and waited. No answer. She opened the door to a room with a king size bed, sitting area and spectacular view, which drew her like a moth to a flame, but she resisted the call. The bed was a little mussed and she had to dust in here, she thought critically. She walked into the connecting bathroom fully equipped with a jetted tub, shower stall with double shower heads and TV. Only one towel was used.

Raven backed out