Defector by Denysè Bridger

Genre: Thriller

Andrew Dahle is a career spook, with no messy emotional ties to complicate his life. He’s worked with the best, and despite himself, he’s about to discover that he’s got friends he really didn’t know he wanted.

A straight-forward operation to grab a defector before he can leave the country with a top secret project goes wildly awry, and forces Andrew to choose between saving the life of a colleague’s son or nailing his target. To his great surprise, he saves the young man’s life, and wakes up in a hospital.

Grateful, Richard MacAvoy, a retired agent with his own elite contacts and players, steps in when Dahle is injured saving his son. Desperate to complete his mission, Andrew reluctantly accepts the help MacAvoy offers, and in the process just might learn that alone isn’t always the best way to work, and friends might be worth the vulnerability he’s always shunned.

Andrew felt the shadows releasing him, the sensation an abrupt, disturbing awareness that he knew he shouldn’t be experiencing. He trusted the instinctive alertness, though, and waited for the sound to give him a clear indication of where the danger was coming from. It only took a few minutes to locate the source, and Dahle’s eyes flew open just as the needle was being inserted into the I.V. tube that ran into his arm.

Andrew pulled the intravenous out as he forced his body into motion that it clearly objected to. The man hovering over his bed jumped back, his surprise giving Dahle his only chance to make a useful move.

Andrew threw himself off the bed and into the man next to it, taking them both down to the floor with a solid thud. He recovered quickly and landed a jarring blow to the man’s jaw. In the few seconds it took for the attacker to shake himself free of the pain, Dahle located the gun inside the other man’s coat. He pulled it free of the holster and pressed the barrel snugly between the man’s terrified eyes.

“Who sent you?” he demanded, the words little more than a rasp. He could feel the pulses of pain building with each breath, and he knew he’d probably torn apart whatever stitching the doctors had done earlier.

Dahle saw the refusal to answer before his assailant tried to offer him a response. He shifted his hold on the gun, then brought it down against the side of the man’s head, the action little more than a blur of smooth, practiced motion.

Andrew staggered to his feet and glanced around the room, suddenly expecting menace from every angle. He went to the locker and yanked his bloodstained clothes from the hangers. He dressed quickly, the gun within easy reach as he kept one eye on the door, then he slipped into position and waited. Instinct and experience told him there’d be more than one man sent for this kind of job. This one would have needed a lookout to warn him of possible interruptions by hospital staff.

He didn’t have to wait long for confirmation of his assessment. The door inched inward and Andrew banged the heavy metal panel back on the intruder, causing him to stumble. With a swiftness that stirred to life all the pain that he’d been fighting, Andrew reached for the wobbling figure and hauled him into the room. As the door swung shut on virtually silent hinges, Dahle slammed his captive against the wall and glared into the dazed features of the startled man.

He recovered a little more quickly than his partner and before Andrew could prevent it, he was struck soundly in the stomach. Gasping, Dahle almost passed out completely when the man’s fist came down hard on his injured shoulder, and he lost his grip on the gun he had been holding. He wheeled back and barely managed to dodge another punch aimed at his vulnerable shoulder. He spun on his heel, used the momentum, and landed a surprisingly solid kick to the second attacker’s midsection. He went down on his knees in front of Andrew and Dahle grabbed a handful of hair, then yanked back with all his strength. He heard the distinct crack of bones, then released the man to fall into a lifeless heap at his feet.

Glancing around him, Andrew knew the room would be crawling with people before too much longer. He needed to get out of the hospital, and quickly. Picking up the weapon he’d dropped minutes earlier, he ducked his head around the door. When he saw no one coming in the direction of his room, he slipped into the corridor and headed for the elevator.

He didn’t get to the end of the hall before he heard the sounds of commotion behind him. The bodies in his room must have been discovered a little more quickly than he was anticipating. He looked automatically toward the elevator and realized he wasn’t going to reach it, or the stairs, without being spotted. His entire body was alive with pain and he could feel the knots in his stomach twisting tighter as he fought down the agony-induced nausea. He stumbled into a wall as another wash of dizziness blurred his vision and threw off his balance. With an effort of sheer determination, Andrew reached for the door knob and almost fell into the room…

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Canadian born and bred, and a lifelong dreamer, I began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when I wasn’t creating in some artistic form. My life has had several on-going love affairs that shape much of what I write, the American West, Victorian England, cowboys, a passion for pirates, Greek Gods, and Ancient Egypt. The other endless love affairs in my life are Italia and all its magic, beauty, and dazzling culture, and a passion for Romania. Those loves spill into all aspects of my life.

In the past half dozen years, I’ve signed with over a dozen publishers, and have released books in all lengths and genres, and it’s something I hope to continue to do for many more years. A visit to my website will show the diversity of what is currently available, and the mixing of genres and styles that will be employed in many up-coming projects as well.

Voted Preditors and Editors Best Author of 2012 and 2013

Author Links: Website      Twitter       Facebook

The Triad of Power: First Quest

On the fantasy world of Foress, the daughter of the world’s last remaining god is challenged to locate one of the ancient swords that were forged as the Triad of Power among the once-powerful gods. Sherindal is a skilled warrior, but a woman with many conflicts in her heart. She has spent her life in the service of her father, the god M’Har, yet it is not she who will wield the most powerful of the swords. Diviner is to be her brother’s destiny, even though she is certain the legacy should be hers. Sherindal carries another of the three ancient weapons, Huntor. The final part of the triad is to be held by the hands of men, and her lover, the Prince of Ember City, is the guardian of Predator.

Excerpt

They’d only slept for minutes when the huge doors of the Prince’s chambers were flung open and the spacious room was invaded by numerous men, all bearing swords.

“Rienn.”

The word was a warning, and Sherindal slithered from the bed when he released her. She scooped up her weapon as she rolled, oblivious to her nakedness. She whirled to face the first rush of the attack. Somewhere through the early morning hours since they’d made love, Rienn had thought to retrieve his breeches, she noted from the corner of her eye. He had managed to gain his weapon, and they fought, back to back.

Sherindal hissed in fury and pain when the second of the men who engaged her slipped past her defense and inflicted a wound near her waist. It was a surface injury and she quickly rewarded him by slicing off his sword hand. Howling in agony, he toppled back, then fled as he recovered his footing several feet away from her.

Rienn had killed two men and was about to run through the third when Sherindal’s voice filled the room, and the blade she wielded, Huntor, rose with her song. The attackers froze momentarily, those two who remained, and she smiled when the weapon cut them down, then drifted back to her outstretched hand, coming to rest in her grasp with near peaceful ease.

“Your blood-thirsty weapon has been sated nicely this morning,” Rienn observed with a tense glance at the gleaming blade.

“Who are they?” she asked, her tone cold as she met his gaze.

“Why would you assume I know?” he retorted instantly. “This is hardly what I would consider an invigorating start to the day!”

“Really?” One eyebrow rose in emphasis of her sardonic tone. “It is one of the more interesting diversions you might have provided, Rienn.” Her laughter was faintly mocking, and not a little bit ironic.

Rienn’s handsome features suffused with rage and he reached for her, gripped her bare arm with fingers that dug into her flesh like steel bands.

“You can be an evil bitch,” he whispered darkly.

Sherindal smiled, and this time it was genuine. She nodded, kissed his chin, the closest she could get to his mouth from her disadvantaged height, then she gasped as a fiery lance reminded her of the slash near her left hip.

“Enough, Rienn,” she said.

He released her, scooped her into his arms, and placed her in the center of the feathered mattress of his bed. He looked closely at the injury, yanked the bell pull, and then went to the heavy wardrobe at the far end of the chamber.

His guards were rushing along the corridor when he returned to the bed and helped Sherindal into one of his linen shirts. She bit her bottom lip against another stab of pain and laughed in macabre amusement when she spotted the duo who entered the room.

“They look rested enough, my love,” she muttered.

Rienn glared at her, then turned an even fiercer visage to the men who should have prevented the assault in his private rooms.

“Get them out of here, then report to Radisan.”

“Radisan will no doubt beat the life out of them, Rienn,” she remarked. “Your brother is overzealous when it comes to punishment. He enjoys watching other people writhe, especially when he is the orchestrator of their anguish.”

“Would you rather I reward them for their lapse?” he snapped. “We could have been killed, Sher!”

“Highly unlikely. Get me my own clothes,” she requested. “I want to dress.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he warned from his position near the door. As the two guards dragged the last of the fallen men into the hall, he slammed the door into place and speared his lover with a look that frequently froze men in their tracks. Sherindal rose from the bed to retrieve her belongings.

“Why?”

She sighed and began to apply salve from the small medicine kit she carried. When the wound was smeared with the peach-colored cream, she wrapped clean linen around her hips, then continued to dress. Dark brown trousers, forest green tunic, black boots and vest, and lastly the sword, in a sheath that she wore at her back, the glittering hilt visible between her shoulders when she faced the Prince again.

“Rienn,” she said gently. “I would not leave you if it wasn’t necessary. This is something I must do. I have no choice!”

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About the Author...

Canadian born and bred, and a lifelong dreamer, I began writing at an early age and can’t recall a time when I wasn’t creating in some artistic form. My life has had several on-going love affairs that shape much of what I write, the American West, Victorian England, cowboys, a passion for pirates, Greek Gods, and Ancient Egypt. The other endless love affair in my life is Italia and all its magic, beauty, and dazzling culture. That passion spills into all aspects of my life.

My first major fantasy novel is AS FATE DECREES. (Available in bookstores everywhere, and on Amazon’s international sites.) The novel relies heavily on Greek Mythology, and is set in Ancient Greece and modern Athens. If you enjoy a tale of Gods, Destiny, and the battles of an Eternal Champion, this is the book for you! (Less than six months after publication, it was a finalist for the 2008 Aurora Award.) Not surprisingly, there’s a touch of romance throughout, of course!

In the past half dozen years, I’ve signed with over a dozen publishers, and have released books in all lengths and genres, and it’s something I hope to continue to do for many more years. A visit to my website will show the diversity of what is currently available, and the mixing of genres and styles that will be employed in many up-coming projects as well. (All my social site links, etc., are on the About Me page.)

Author Links: Site Blog Facebook Twitter