Tag Archive | spies

I Love Dialogue from Call Me

doodle banner I love dialogueDistraught over its loss of her cellphone, (the case held sentimental value) Moira Crane goes to the police station to report the theft. Detective Rhys Fletcher ushers her into his office and it becomes more of a flirtatious conversation than a police interview.

“Sorry for the mess. They’re repairing my usual office. Had a waterpipe burst. So I’m stuck in the file room. They’re in the process of converting to paperless.” He held up a file, pulling a silly, sad-clown face.

Moira smiled. “I thought maybe you were just incredibly busy and awfully disorganized.”

“Me?” Fletcher tossed his hat on a rack near the desk. “Neat as a pin. Ask Sue.” He nodded to the woman outside.

“Don’t listen to him, he’s a slob. They’re all slobs,” the older woman laughed.

“Thanks. Make me look bad in front of the lady.” He invited Moira to take the only chair in the office. He perched on the edge of his desk, one well sculpted thigh slung over the corner.

In the small, windowless room, Moira could smell his cologne. It was dusky, spicy and tingled her nostrils. An uncomfortable warmth filled her. She shifted in the chair.

“I know it’s a little cozy in here. I’m sorry.” He shifted too.

Moira got the strong impression she had the same effect on him that he had on her.

“So, tell me what’s wrong, Miss Crane.”

Moira told him about what had happened in class and her actions afterward. Fletcher nodded, pressing his lips together.

“So, you don’t think any of your students could have done this?”

“Maybe, as a joke. None would do it seriously—at least I hope not.”

“Could it have been taken by mistake?”

Moira shook her head. “I doubt it. My phone case is very distinctive and childish. My ex-boyfriend’s daughter gave it to me for my birthday. She’s five.”

Moira gulped, her eyes watering again. She pulled out a crumpled tissue from the stack Sue had given her, smiling when Fletcher’s handkerchief appeared in front of her. Laughing, she took the handkerchief.

“I’m sorry, I got mascara on it.” She handed it back to him.

Fletcher tossed it aside. “That’s what I pay the maid for.” He smiled down at her. “I can’t guarantee we’ll get the phone back. If it was stolen, it’s probably been sold off by now. But you did the right thing by contacting the phone company.”

“It’s the pictures,” she wailed. “I don’t have copies of them. I know I should have saved them—”

“But you don’t think about that,” he said quietly. “Not with something as precious and spontaneous.”

He sounded so subdued, Moira stared at him. She never tried to read people she’d just met. Sometimes, their emotions were so obvious, she couldn’t help it. The pain radiating off him was intense. He’d lost someone he loved dearly—and the pain was recent. Moira’s fingers brushed his hand before she could stop it. She got a flash of a grave—no, two. One adult sized and one very small one.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “It must be quite awful to lose your family.”

Rhys Fletcher recoiled from her touch, jumping off the edge of the desk. He knocked his lamp to the floor in his attempt to get away. The bulb shattered on the tile floor.

“Who are you? Did he send you?”

“What are you doing in there, Rhys Fletcher?” Sue called from her desk. “If you break another lamp. . . .”

“Sorry. My fault,” Moira called.

Moira stooped to pick up the lamp. Her long, sable hair cascaded over her shoulder. Their eyes met when she stood up. Fletcher’s were dark, penetrating, glaring at her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just—I sense things. I know it sounds all freakish, but when I touched you, I saw graves. Your wife and child?”

“Who are you, Miss Crane?”

“I’m an English teacher at the high school.”

Fletcher sighed, running his hands over his close cropped hair. “I’m sorry, Miss Crane.” He adjusted his shirt sleeves, tugging at the cuffs. “It wasn’t my wife and child. It was my sister and her daughter.” He set the lamp well out of his way and sat on the desk once more. “I apologize. I’m naturally suspicious.”

“You asked if he sent me. No one sent me, Detective Fletcher. I’m here about my phone.”

“Of course. If I haven’t completely blown any chance in hell I had of getting to know you better, would you like to go to dinner?”

Moira’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Dinner.” He eyed her calmly, smiling.

“Like a date?”

“Yes.” He folded his hands in his lap, waiting.

Moira crossed her legs, twitching hair behind her ear. She couldn’t read any deception in his face. He really wanted to ask her out. If the feelings she got from him early on were any indication, he was genuinely interested in her. In fact, she suspected this conversation was brought on less by him being a police officer and more about being a man.

“Are you married?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Sue, am I married?”

The older woman didn’t even look up from what she was typing. “Nope, more’s the pity.”

“Am I dating anyone?” He winked at Moira, knowing that would be her next question.

“There’s not a woman alive who would put up with you long enough.” She smiled up at him. “Is that young whelp asking you out?” she directed at Moira.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, he’s not completely untrainable, but you’ll have your hands full. He’s better than most and not as bad as some others. Go for it.” She waved at them. “With my blessing. Now, leave me be. I have work.”

“You have the Sue Seal of Approval,” Fletcher said. “What more can you ask for?”

Moira laughed. “I guess I can’t ask for anything more. Okay, I’d love to have dinner. I need to go home and fix my face.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Don’t you need my address for that?”

He picked up her paperwork, grinning as he waved it at her. “I’ve got it right here. All your most intimate details.”

“If you weren’t a cop, that would be a really pervy thing to admit,” Moira said, her lips twitching as she tried to hide a smile.

“Moi?” He pointed to himself with both index fingers. “Not a perverted bone in my body,” he said as he walked her out.

“You’re a man, aren’t you?” Sue said, without looking up. “You’re all perverts.”

“Well. Put that way. . . . At seven?”

“Yes. And thank you, Detective Fletcher.”

He kissed her hand. “Rhys, please. I promise that dinner isn’t part of our usual customer service.”

Giggling, Moira walked out to her car. Fletcher accompanied her,closing her door when she was settled. She turned the key and opened the window.

“I’ll run over your foot if you keep standing there.”

Taking a couple steps back, he put his hands in his pockets, squinting against the sunshine. “See you at seven, Moira.”

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

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First Meeting from Brick

doodle banner I love dialogueI’m all for change and trying new things. That in mind, I decided to share some of my former posts from my other blog, here. I started using I Love Dialogue, Sexy Without the Sex and First Meetings a couple years ago and it’s a lot of fun for me. I choose scenes that I enjoy and share them with my readers. Not all the stories are published, or even finished, but I hope that it will whet your reading appetites. Hungry for more? Check out the buy link below.

Every Thursday, I will share something here, or on one of my other sites (linked back and shared here) for your enjoyment. Today’s scene is from a romantic suspense still in progress. It hasn’t got a title yet, but I’m toying with Spy in the House of Love.

Brick McMillan is back home in Florida for a funeral—his younger brother’s. There have been a lot of deaths in his family lately, his father, his wife and now his brother Stony. However, the night he got home, he was using Stony’s computer and got a mysterious Instant Message from a woman calling herself XYZ. She arranges a meeting with him at the Panera in Daytona.

The morning rush at Panera was tapering off when he ordered his coffee and pastry. Finding a table wasn’t hard. He sat in the main room, over to one side, near the partition. From here, he could see the back door, but not the front. He suspected that XYZ was a backdoor user. As it happened, he was right.

Brick spotted the tall, trim figured woman as soon as she walked in. Her honey colored hair was pulled back in a loose chignon. She scanned the restaurant, dark glasses raised to her forehead with one hand. She wore a slate gray suit and low heeled black shoes. Her jacket was buttoned, but there was a slight bulge under her left arm. She spotted him on her second pass. Brick held up his coffee, saluting her. Frowning, she strutted across the room, taking a seat across from him at the table.

You need to work on your entrance,” he said after taking a sip. “I knew it was you the second you walked in.”

Do you know who I am?”

By name? No. But my guess is you’re a fed, not a cop.” He leaned forward, forearms on the table, the cup between his hands.

Her frown deepened. Her silence demanded an explanation.

You don’t move like a cop. You move like a soldier. In plain clothes, those glasses, shoes you can run in—Fed.”

She flashed a wary smile. Her eyes were a vivid aquamarine. There was a scattering of freckles across her pert nose.

So, this begs the questions—Why is a federal agent so anxious to talk to my bother? And why does she sound so unconvinced that he’s dead?”

Mr. McMillan….”

He held up a finger, waving it at her as if chastising a spoiled child for bad manners. “The way this works, you introduce yourself. Then we chat.”

Call me Agent X.” She grinned and a hint of a twinkle lit up her eyes.

I’d rather not. I quit reading comic books thirty years ago.”

Colleen,” she told him.

No last name. So, like Pink or Seal….”

Something like that.” The smile faded. “Look, Brick, we can tease and flirt all day—”

Is that what this is?” He leaned forward aggressively. “I thought this was you telling me about your relationship with Stony.”

It’s not an affair.”

That much I know. My brother’s not a cheater. I figure it’s business related, but that’s a puzzler. My brother was an engineer.”

She sighed, leaning back. “May we start over?”

Sure.” He wiped his hand on his napkin before holding it out. “Brick McMillan.”

She shook it. Her grip was firm, her palm calloused. She spent a lot of time with that handgun. “Colleen Underwood.”

Federal agent.”

Yes.”

FBI? NSA?”

RNS.”

I don’t know that one—Oh! Rather Not Say,” he chuckled as he translated her acronym. “Gotcha.”

Her lips twitched into a half smile. “Yes, I know your brother. Yes, it’s business related. No, I don’t think he’s dead. If I’m right, he’s gone to ground and will contact me soon. He’s in danger.”

How do you know?”

Because, your brother works for us. He’s a spy.”

© 2016 Dellani Oakes

To Buy Dellani’s Books http://www.amazon.com/Dellani-Oakes/e/B007ZQCW3A/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_2?qid=1464388230&sr=8-2

For More About Dellani http://www.dellanioakes.wordpress.com

 

Undercover Lover Links

undercover lover coverUndercover Lover is one of my romantic suspense novels set in a Big City Up North that has no name. I did that because I didn’t want people saying to me, “Oh, that’s Chicago.” or “That’s New York. You got the details all wrong.” Instead, I made up my own city where things are my way, people act the way I want, and no one can come back at me and tell me I got the facts wrong. I don’t give it a name, it just is The City. ~ Dellani

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19 

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

Part 37

Part 38

Part 39

Part 40

Part 41

Part 42

Part 43

Part 44

Part 45

Part 46

Part 47

Part 48

Part 49

Part 50

Part 51

Conclusion

Notable Narrative – Indian Summer Shark Attack!

Notable Narrative

Sometimes, it isn’t just dialogue or a steamy love scene that captures the interest. This particular scene is one I wrote when I first started Indian Summer nearly 20 years ago. I began the novel, but couldn’t capture Gabriella’s voice. Discouraged, I put the notebook in a drawer and left it. One day, I was cleaning the drawer and found the notebook once more. I read through it, discarding most of it as crap, but this scene, I kept. I found Gabriella’s voice in this scene and was able to begin again. This scene is almost word for word what I originally wrote.

The ocean felt blood warm and comforting. I hadn’t realized how much my body ached from my new activities. The tension of the last few weeks washed from my body as the water closed over me. It buoyed me up, letting me float gently on the waves. I closed my eyes to the bright morning sun and rested. I didn’t realize how far I drifted, for the tide was going out. I heard a noise, a shout from the beach and looked up. I was much further out than I intended and began to swim slowly back in.

Before I saw what was happening, a man dove into the water and swam rapidly past me. It was not until then I saw the fin on the water. Shark! I could formulate no other thoughts but the horror of that image, that word. I had seen people attacked by sharks, their bodies torn and bloody, bloated from the water they died in. I swam for my life as quickly as I could. The man met the shark not far from the shore. I scrambled out, running to my clothing. I had the ridiculous notion that it would somehow protect me. There was a battle going on in the waves, but I couldn’t see it clearly. The man raised his knife, the sun glittering off the blade. He brought it down on the shark again and again with a dull, liquid thunk. Blood was everywhere, but whether it was his or the shark’s I didn’t know.

Forgetting my clothing for the moment, I grabbed my knife. Foolishly, I dashed back into the water as man and shark dove under! I couldn’t see either of them, just blood on the waves. A small ripple where they went down was the only other thing visible. Suddenly, the water beside me erupted as a huge shark leapt out of the water not five feet from me! I screamed, frozen to the spot. I saw the knife in its ugly, brutish head, between its eyes. It was fighting fiercely, despite numerous stab wounds.

Clinging to it stubbornly was a man. Sailfish! He was covered in blood, slipping from the shark’s hide. The vicious beast gave a last squirm as the life left it. It shivered once more and died. Sailfish drew his blade from it, racing toward me.

“Run!” He yelled.

I was stupefied, I couldn’t make my legs work. I stood there naked and dripping, too terrified to move.indian summer scanned cover 500 x 750

“Run!” He yelled again. “Gabriella, get out of the water!”

Before he finished speaking, I saw the fins racing toward all the blood, toward us! I turned and ran, splashing and flailing to get to shore. He caught up with me, righting me as I fell. Impatient at my lack of speed, he lifted me out of the water, carrying me to the sand. His long legs covered the distance in less time than it takes to tell of it. I stared in shock and horror as the dead shark danced crazily in the water, the others tearing its carcass to pieces in a horrific frenzy! A scream threatened to erupt from my throat. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Gradually, the furor died down and the sharks swam away. Nothing was left of the dead one. I sank to my knees, retching. I had not eaten yet that morning, so it was dry heaves. Sometimes that’s worse than actually vomiting. I became aware of strong hands helping me sit up, of the same hands dressing me like a baby and the muscular arms around me, holding me while I cried.

All the sorrow, anger, and fear that had built in me since the night of my capture, came pouring out in a flood of tears. I felt so safe in his arms. I clung to him, weeping as if my heart were broken. He held me, rocked me, and stroked my hair, all the while speaking in low monotones. None of it made sense to me for he spoke in his own tongue, but the flow of the words and the tone were comforting. I cried a long time, finally coming to a stop. He continued to hold me, giving me his comfort.

Soon, however, the touch changed, I felt the comforting become a caress as a lover would touch his beloved. I don’t know why, but I felt a tingling sensation for the first time since we met. He was so strong, virile, warm and so alive. He stopped rocking me, but continued to hold me, turning my tear-streaked face gently to his. I gazed into his jet black eyes, lost in their depths. His strong jaw was working, trying to hold the emotions in. I felt his manhood pressing against me and faltered in my resolve.

God help me, I loved Manuel! How could I dishonor him by kissing another man? Even as I thought this, Sailfish lowered his lips to mine and kissed me with a passion not even Manuel had equaled. I melted into his embrace, his lips locked with mine, his tongue probing my mouth. I burned inside, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird. I felt swept away as if the ocean waves had carried me off into the water once more. Wave after hot wave coursed through my body. He touched me all the places I knew he shouldn’t, but somehow I couldn’t bring myself to stop him. I was so tired of fighting desire, sick of saying no, weary of being proper.

I believe I would have allowed him to continue had we not heard shouts coming from on the mound. There was a ruckus on the river side of the island. Reluctantly, he let go of me, turning to the lookout. Sailfish called out to him, demanding to know what was wrong. I couldn’t understand his answer, for they spoke in their native tongue. Sailfish all but dumped me on the sand as he rose and ran toward the camp, shouting as he went. I gathered myself up running after him, curious and afraid all at once.

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I Love Dialogue! from Indian Summer

I love dialogue doodle bannerIndian Summer is my first published novel. An historical romantic suspense, Indian Summer is set in St. Augustine, Florida in 1739. Gabriella Deza is the youngest daughter of Spanish Governor, Ferdinand Deza. Headstrong and intrepid, Gabriella has just turned 15, the coming of age of a young Spanish woman. Manuel Enriques, her father’s aide de camp, has declared his love for her. He also asks if he may escort her to her birthday party. Overwhelmed by his declaration, Gabriella realizes she has feelings for him, too. In this excerpt, they are at her birthday party and he has just invited her to dance.

My knees melted as he held out his hand to me.

“This is my dance, I believe, Señorita Deza.”

Manuel locked eyes with the next candidate for treading on my toes, who cowered under his look. Nodding rapidly, the little rabbit of a man retreated to the corner behind Clara and seemed to take her as his shield of defense.

I graced him with my sincere smile and said, “I promise the next dance is yours, señor.”

He bobbed his head rapidly again, retreating even further. Manuel spoke from the corner of his mouth as we walked to the dance floor. “I don’t think you will have to honor that promise, my sweet.”

Chortling, I replied with a coquettish toss of my hair. “Why, Señor Enriques, do you intend to intimidate every man here?”

He chuckled secretively as he turned me in a circle under his arm. “If need be, my dear. If need be. I shall have you to myself.” He put special emphasis on “shall” as he spun me again and the music began.

Quiet at first, I listened with only half my attention. Suddenly, the orchestra erupted in a wave of the most exciting music I had ever heard! The guitars hammered loudly, the percussion began a beat I was familiar with. The music echoed the pounding of my heart. Manuel chuckled, seeing the surprised look upon my face.

“Do you like my choice? It’s a special request I gave them. A dance just for us!” He spun me again, three times in succession.

“I don’t know this dance!” I gasped. “I don’t know the steps!”

“Listen to the music, Bella. You know this. You feel it in your blood! Would I ever embarrass you? Follow my lead and you will be free!”

The music continued slowly, just a hint of notes on a single guitar. Manuel led me in a few gentle steps, ending in a deep dip. The tempo changed, accelerating into a fast, syncopated rhythm. He swept me into the most amazing dance! The music crashed into me in wave after wave of excitement. The power of it washed over us, setting my heart pounding in my chest with a beat at the same time unnatural, but as much a part of me as breathing.

We spun, stepped, dipped, clapped, stomped and when we got to the end I realized I had just danced my first Flamenco. I had seen this dance many times. The country folk in Spain danced this at their celebrations. The music and tradition had followed us to this new land, where they danced it at festivals.

Manuel led me off the dance floor, both of us a little breathless and perspiring. It was then I noticed no one else had joined us in the dance. I looked up at him with a question on my lips. He shrugged casually. “I asked for a dance alone with you. The gentlemen politely complied.”

I narrowed my eyes, feigning a glare. “How much did you threaten them?” I was teasing and he knew it.

He held his fingers about an inch apart. “Perhaps, this much?”

© 2015 Dellani Oakes

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Here’s Jasper!

conduct unbecoming front coverI first introduced Jasper Waters in a novel called New at Love (published in Fran Lewis’ MJ Magazine) He wasn’t the main hero, but he certainly was heroic. Jasper had more than a little crush on the female lead, Amanda. Even though it broke his heart, he stepped aside for Derrick.

He popped up again in Undiscovered (coming spring of 2015 from Tigearr Publishing). It’s a small part, but a helpful one. Jasper’s the kind of guy you can count on. He’s appeared in a few of my other unpublished books and I expect he will probably find his way into more. He’s a comfortable fit and the kind of guy who is very likable.

When I introduced him in Conduct Unbecoming, I had no idea he was going to take over and become the male lead. I thought he was going to be the helpful friend who takes Teague to the jetty, flirts with the new cornoner (she’s a hot redhead) and step aside. He didn’t do that. Instead, he jumped in with both feet and hit the ground running, willing to help Nadeya simply because she’s a friend of Teague’s. As Jasper tells her, “Teague knows every damn body, but there are only a few of us he calls friends. You’re one of them—”

Teague has always been a favorite of both me and my fans, but I have to admit that Jasper has also stolen my heart. I liked him in New at Love, now I adore him. He’s funny, smart, handsome, capable, unflappable and pretty much not scared of anything. Jasper will make you laugh, make you sigh and down right steal your heart.

Meet Jasper Waters. Read Conduct Unbecoming.

© 2014

Where It All Began The Ninja Tattoo 

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By the way, Aileen has been after me for book 3. I’m toying with two different names. Which do you like better? Rear View Murder or Rear View?

Conduct Unbecoming Excerpt from Chapter Eight

b477c-conduct2bunbecoming2bfront2bcoverTeague had intended to confront Quartermain and the others, but Nadeya encouraged him not to. She knew he could take Quartermain, but the other two are far more dangerous. Instead, they decide to go back home and let the bad guys come to them.

Their announcement was greeted less than enthusiastically. No one actually protested, but Teague could tell his friends didn’t like the idea.

“After all this running around, you’re just going to go home?” Jasper protested.

“Why not? They won’t expect it.”

“It’s either brilliant or stupid. I’m not sure which,” Jasper grumbled.

“Must they be mutually exclusive?”

Jasper exchanged a look with Aileen and Nadeya. “Apparently not. Okay. But you’ve got company.”

“Why not? Viv loves a crowd.”

They headed back to Teague’s house. The red Pinto was gone and Jasper’s Boss was parked beside the garage. Lights glittered cheerfully in the windows and the music played loudly—Carols Santana, Vivica’s favorite musician. Teague didn’t see Vivica in the kitchen, dining room or living room. The door was unlocked. Worried, he held up a hand, signaling to his friends.

Quietly, they moved to the door. Teague let them go in that way. He moved around to the hidden side door. It was locked, but he had his key. He opened the door slowly noting that the alarm didn’t beep. Deeply concerned, he proceeded down the hall. Vivica wasn’t in the bathroom or bedrooms. He even checked the hall closet—nothing.

There should have been dogs barking too. Where were they? Vivica’s three pets ranged from Rex, the gigantic Irish Wolfhound, Evita a medium sized Beagle mix and Pesky, a tiny Jack Russell. Pesky barked at everything. With two strangers in the house, she should have been going nuts.

Terribly worried, Teague rushed to the living room. His friends stood in a circle around the coffee table. There was a weird smell in the room—sickly sweet, chemical. Teague stopped moving.

“What?”

His friends stepped away, showing him. The three dogs lay on the couch, love seat and coffee table. They were breathing, but unconscious. They’d been shaved with clippers, nearly to the skin.

On the table, next to Pesky, there were photographs. Some were distance shots of Vivica walking the dogs. Two were close ups of her face. Obviously unconscious, she lay sprawled on their bed. He could see the duvet behind her head.

With an outcry, Teague leaped forward. Joel stopped him before he could grab the pictures.

“I called it in,” Joel said.

“If they intended to kill her, she’d be here for us to find her,” Nadeya said. “There’s a note.”

She pointed to a paper attached to Rex’s collar. Without touching it, Teague read it. It was hand printed in black, block letters.

“If you want her back, you know what we want.”

“What do they want?” Teague yelled. Distant sirens grew louder as he fought his cousin to snatch at the note. “What can I give them?”

“Me,” Nadeya said calmly. “The bastards want me.”

The room exploded with sound. All three men yelled at once. Aileen stood quietly, hands in her pockets.

“No, Nay. You can’t,” Aileen stated.

“I have to. You don’t have what they’re capable of. Viv can’t handle it.”

“They won’t torture her. She doesn’t know anything,” Aileen tried to sound reassuring.

“They would do it for fun!” Nadeya cried.

© 2014 Dellani Oakes

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