Summertime – More Reading Than Writing

 

 

The new book doesn't come together like a good plan by Hannibal Smith, but rather like the vague plans a trainee of the Colonel would make. The writing feels like I'm inventing the puzzle pieces as I go. Some fit and stay, while others are removed. The ones that fit help propel the storyline and create part of the picture. The serial killer, who had no qualms about killing her lovers before, finally meets a man she adores. She doesn't want to leave him, even though she might get caught if she stays. Meanwhile, FBI Agent Nicolas Hayes is in trouble because an old adversary is out to get him. While he’s busy trying to catch a killer and a slick opponent, his love life goes down the drain.

I try to piece together scenes that will help the heroes solve the crimes, but the warm weather keeps me from being at home. Summertime is usually meant for reading and less for writing. I love sitting in the sun with a good book and a cup of coffee. Sometimes, an unrelated story I read inspires another scene, so I keep a notebook and pen ready to write down any idea that comes to mind.

While I continue to work on the puzzle that is my work in progress, here’s an excerpt from my last published book, Dirty Work.

 

Just when you think you have found the perfect match, you may find yourself bursting into flames.

 
Excerpt

Nicolas left his hideout cautiously. There was no way of knowing how many burglars he was up against. The carpet under his bare feet was soft and warm, swallowing every sound. He had crossed the room when he became aware of a shadow at the next door, which led to the parlor, Mr. Hollander’s favorite abode. The aroma of expensive tobacco was in the air, mingling with that of leather and faintly of flowers. He noticed that there were sandy shoe traces from at least two persons on the otherwise spotless carpet. The moment he stepped beyond the threshold, a man attacked him from the right. Nicolas blocked the man’s arm, twisted it around and thrust the man face-first against the wall. The impact stunned him amid the screams of pain. He went down and lay unmoving. Nicolas let go of the man’s arm to face the second opponent, who aimed a pistol at him. Instinctively, Nicolas turned away, and the projectile passed him soundlessly. Before the shooter could pull the trigger again, Nicolas closed the gap, kicked the man in the shin, and twisted the gun out of his hand, turning his body into him. It had not yet reached the floor when the man boxed Nicolas in the kidney twice so forcefully it was both hurtful and stunning. Gasping for air, Nicolas rammed his elbow into the attacker’s midsection, gaining the advantage to turn and punch the man in the face, twice, three times, driving him backward. His side hurt, but for the moment he had his eyes on his opponent and ignored the pain. Nicolas kicked the man’s knee, triggering a groan, then kicked higher at the man’s chest. The opponent hit the wall behind him, and Nicolas was upon him, hitting him hard in the face once again. The man’s defense crumbled—he couldn’t keep up his fists. Nicolas heard a voice calling out in shock behind him. Quickly he swiveled the injured man around him so that he was a shield against yet another silent bullet. A third man had crossed the threshold into the parlor. Wide-eyed and obviously surprised by the situation, he turned tail and ran back through the living room toward the side entrance of the house.

“Fuck!” Nicolas dropped the now unconscious intruder and pursued the third gangster on bare feet. He heard glass shatter with a deafening noise, as if the living room’s mighty candelabra had hit the floor. It was the glass cabinet. The shards lay scattered across the floor, glistening in the afternoon sunlight, too broadly spread to jump over. Nicolas was lucky he came to a skittering halt before stepping into the glass. “I don’t believe this!” Nicolas put his hands on his hips, catching his breath. He heard the third man run down the hall and leave the building, shouting an order in a language Nicolas didn’t understand.

On the way back to the intruders, he tore off the power line of a floor lamp and used it to tie up the two men. Both were unresponsive, and he had his first good look at them. They were both of Asian origin, solidly built, with hair cut so short their scalps shone through, in their late twenties. The second man he had beaten had a shiny silver dart in his chest. Nicolas refrained from touching it. He searched their pockets but didn’t find a passport or a wallet. He also did not find backpacks or bags to transport stolen goods. “What were you guys up to?” he murmured as he left them behind to search the house. On the way, he grabbed a phone from the hook to call the police.

When he couldn’t find any other intruders, he fetched a pair of shoes from the bedroom, a few clothes for Jacklyn and himself, and went to open the closet. “Hey, lady, good to see you.”

Jacklyn embraced him, sighing with relief. She looked up to him with a frown. “You look… chipper.”

“What did you expect? Your badass FBI agent knows how to use his fists.”

***

For more visit my website: annraina.com

 

Living Together in Modern Times

  

 

 

In its latest issue, the news magazine Der Spiegel (The Mirror) reports on the changing forms of living together. The idea that only a man and a woman can live together and have a loving relationship is outdated. Nowadays it’s socially acceptable for two men or two women or even several people to live together under the same roof. Whether this is called friendship with benefits, open marriage, or polyamory is irrelevant. Most people just accept that there are different ways of living together without putting one above the other.

In my latest novel in the series with Nick & Jacklyn, I introduce FBI Agent Theodor Adams, who lives with a man and a woman in a loving threesome. Theodor fell in love with Wilbur during a bike ride in Miami, and he was head over heels for Robin when they met at a Christmas party a year later. Now they all live together in a house near Washington, DC.

So let me introduce you to my latest release with an excerpt from Family Matters.

 

Theodor was chopping peppers when Wilbur Graham appeared in the kitchen. He was twenty-seven years old, looked like a strange professor with his dark blond, overgrown hair and a beard he only cut when Robin urged him to. He was two inches taller than Theodor and had the same broad shoulders. Because he loved to eat everything Robin cooked, he had a paunch, which he often touched. At home, he acted and looked like a sloth, but when he presented his work as a software engineer, he dressed up in a suit and tie as if his income depended on his appearance. Humming with delight, he snatched a piece of pepper from the plate, and when Theodor playfully threatened him with a knife, he put his hand on Theodor’s butt and grinned like a fool.

“You wouldn’t use a dirty knife to cut me, would you?” He had a pleasant voice, trained to persuade customers. “If you want to cut me in half, get a new one, and please have it sharpened.” He stole another piece of pepper with his free hand.

“Thanks for cleaning the house,” Theodor said, continuing to chop vegetables while Robin prepared meat in a large pan. “Next time I'll do it.”

“Next time, we’ll have a maid,” Robin declared decisively, as if she had already made a list of possible employees.

“Oh, at last! Thank the gods for their insight!” Wilbur raised his hands to the ceiling. “And thank you, Robin, for convincing Mr. Scrooge that we can afford to pay someone. After all, we have three incomes!” He smiled and squeezed Theodor’s bottom affectionately. “Can I reward you somehow for your... concession?” In Theodor’s ears, the last word had a sexual connotation, and Wilbur's look indicated his intention.

“Tempting.” Theodor emptied the plate into the pan and Robin stirred the mixture. “But I promised Tim I’d be at our training session tonight.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes and sighed pathetically. “I forgot. What time will you be back?”

“Close to ten, if I take the car instead of the bike. Is that okay with you?” Theodor put the plate in the dishwasher. “Will you still be awake?”

“You mean because I’m one of those people who goes to bed at eight?” Wilbur snorted. “Get real, Agent Newbie. I’ll wait, program some stuff, and empty the fridge in the meantime.”

“Oh, by the way,” Robin prompted. “It’s my turn to do the grocery shopping, and it would be easier if you guys would write down what you want and not leave me guessing.”

“We’re the boys to her,” Wilbur said, looking lovingly at Theodor. He stroked the back of Theodor’s head. “Shall we be nice and write a list?”

“You write and I set the table,” Theodor decided and opened the cupboard with the plates. He felt a pleasant tingling where Wilbur’s hand had been. Though sexually sated, Wilbur had the power to stir his feelings like no other man.

“As you wish.” Wilbur laughed at his little joke and got paper and pencil.

Theodor looked at his friend’s back and sighed. He was blessed with friends and a great job. It couldn’t get any better.

*

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