More Cloak and Dagger After Midnight

I thought I would get in one more blog post today. Tomorrow I will be blogging about the art of spycraft. I hope you can join me then. I promise it will be intriguing. In the meantime, here is an excerpt from the novel I’m currently working on. The title may change, but for now, it is SPIDERS. It’s a crime thriller with strong romantic elements. This excerpt is for the romantics.

EXCERPT FROM

SPIDERS

The whistle of an approaching train broke through the music and chatter and clinking silver. A black locomotive rumbled past the windows, its lights blurred by rain that streaked the glass. Hayden picked up his whiskey and turned back to his deputy. “You look beautiful tonight, Megan.”

“Thank you. You’re pretty snazzy yourself.” She reached out and adjusted his tie, letting her hands linger on his neck and the top of his chest a little longer than necessary. She cleared her throat and stepped back. “But I’d swear you’ve been trying to hang yourself with this. Every time I’ve looked at you, you’ve been tugging at this thing like a noose. Now it’s halfway to your back.”

So she’d been watching his table too. That thought pleased him… almost as much as the feel of her hands against his chest.

She dropped her gaze and turned away. “So, who are all these people? I barely recognize anyone.”

Hayden followed her stare, looking past the wooden boundaries of the cozy bar.

“Most of them are from Chapel’s police department, but there are some officers here from Julian as well. Plus the odd politician — their number, not their personality — and family members. If it were just the Talipatche Sheriff’s Department, we’d be a pretty straggly group.”

Hayden studied the people he saw only a few times a year. They had separated into clusters. Cops stood with other cops. Civilians gathered around other civilians. The politicians moved among everybody. Most of the LEOs were huddled in corners, no doubt talking shop, telling either their most humorous or their most hair-raising tales from the street—either that or they were discussing their latest firearm purchases or the stupidity of politics and their superiors.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question, Hayden?”

“Depends on the question.”

She hesitated. “Maybe I’d better not ask then.”

“Can’t stop now, Megan. You’ve made me curious.” He almost said you’ve aroused my curiosity but stopped himself. He was trying not to think about how much she aroused him.

“What’s going on with Emma? She’s been crying all night.”

He turned back to the bartender and ordered another whiskey. He hadn’t expected that.

“Her dog died,” he answered.

She was silent, obviously not believing his answer and not finding it funny enough to laugh at.

He sighed. “I’ve been trying to break things off with her for a year. She finally realized I was serious. She’ll be fine. She’ll lambast me in the newspaper and skewer me at board meetings, but she’s a big girl. She’ll get over it.”

“I thought it was something like that.”

“Yeah, it’s exactly like that.” He drank his third whiskey and stared at the empty glass. “I haven’t seen you dancing tonight. Don’t you dance?”

She looked relieved at the change of subject. “I love to dance, but I usually dance Cumbia or Merengue.”

“If you can dance Cumbia and Merengue, a waltz will be a cinch. Care to try your feet at one?”

She glanced at the dance floor uncertainly. “Is that what this is?”

“Yes. It’s Ashokan Farewell. One of my favorites.”

She turned back to him. “Well, if you’re willing to risk it, I am too.”

He was willing to risk a lot more than that, and her words gave him the impression she was too. He trusted his skills of observation, and the body language behind her comment told him she was talking about more than a dance. He set down his glass and took her hand, finding it even softer than he’d expected, and led her to the dance floor—ignoring the shocked stares of everyone present.

“This is just a basic waltz, Megan. Your left hand goes here.” He lifted her hand and placed it on his right shoulder. “I want you close to me, so you can feel my movements, but not too close.” He wrapped his left hand around her right, slowly closing his fingers one by one, and lifted her arm straight to the side. He glanced down.

Had her breathing stopped?

There was no movement in her chest. He felt his pulse quicken and draped his right arm over her shoulder, resting his hand against the bare skin of her shoulder blade. “Your right foot goes between my feet. Now turn your head left.”

She stared at him and didn’t respond.

She still wasn’t breathing.

Hayden smiled. “Turn your head left,” he repeated, his voice low.

She slowly looked away, turning her face away from his. Her chest rose and fell with a slight catch, and her breathing resumed.

“Now I’ll step forward with my right leg and bring it between your legs. When I do, you step back on your left.” He moved toward her and she moved away. “Now you step right.” She did as he instructed. “Now forward, opposite leg. Now left.” She followed him effortlessly, gliding smoothly. “Now we just continue this same basic pattern. It’s a very strict rhythm. Don’t push it. Not too fast. Not too slow. Just follow the rhythm. Follow me.” He controlled the movements of her body easily, leading her gracefully across the floor. Forward, left, back, right. Each moving to the haunting strains of the violins and guitar. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

She smiled and looked back at him. “No, this is my first time. I’m just following your lead.”

“Keep your head left,” he said. “Well, you’re a natural. By the way, you smell good.”

“Thanks Hayden, so do you.”

A sudden flash startled him, when he turned toward it, he came face-to-face with Emma. She shoved her camera at him and snapped another picture. Then she lunged at Megan and tackled her to the dance floor with a Banshee-like wail.

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