Into the Fire

Hostile Intent by Don Bentley is the third book in A Matt Drake Novel Series.

Matt Drake is back. And for all the sarcasm, smart a*$ commentary, he's a dangerous man who has a code of honor. He pays his debts. When a man who saved not only his life but the life of his wife (Laila), shows up in Vienna at the American Embassy to share critical information and says he'll only talk to Matt Drake, the DIA's top case officer heads directly there. 

As is always the case with Matt, everything goes south, north, east, and west in trying to find a safe place to get the information from "the Irishman" Nolan Burke, former member of the Real IRA. And when there's critical information involved, you can bet the farm that one of the parties involved will be the Russian contingent of whatever elements of their alphabet spec ops agencies is sent to procure that information or silence it. It appears that this information is exactly as Nolan hinted because not too long after Matt finds Nolan, they're separated. 

When Matt is finally able to locate Nolan after a run-in with Vienna's blonde first female Director of the BVT (Intelligence), he is forced to take on the Russian special unit that is "holding" Burke. With little time to plan, he manages to get a few words with Nolan. Needless to say, utter chaos precluded those words. 

Timing is at critical mass as the invasion of Ukraine seems imminent. The hidden discovery about the whole chaotic swirl of countries, agencies, contingencies, war, operators, assists and debts owed and paid, presents a heretofore unknown threat. 

And there you have the multiple storylines within a story that gives you Russia, Ukraine, Vienna, Israel, and the USA. It's no small endeavor to pay back the riddle of Burke's request. 

Hostile Intent is an orderly – but convoluted – account of the severe dangers following Matt Drake around as he and his best friend Frodo try to out-maneuver what turns out to be more than one enemy. Unbelievable risks, requests, new "partners," and dread are all part of the scary task. Matt's humorous thoughts and sarcastic chitchat with his Israeli counterpart will at times make the reader laugh – or at least smile. There's some great dialogue involved. Matt's heroics as well as his vulnerabilities are evident in the struggle. 

Bottom line: If you want to read thrillers, you want to read a Don Bentley series. A Matt Drake Novel Series will definitely give you an uptick in your heartbeat. 

(Some profanity.) 

Father, only you know our hearts and desires. I pray you would continue to shine your face upon Don and his family and fill him up with stories for his next projects. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

One of Bob Dylan's original hits. One thing about Dylan's songs, the lyrics always said interesting things from "those days." Love him or hate him, he was a talented man with an unusual voice. 

Father, rescue those who come to you. We're all desperate for Jesus. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

For those of us authors who don't happen to be bestsellers, we definitely go through the "Monday Musings." 

I didn't pick the romance/love story genre nor did I pick Christian Fiction. "They" picked me. Before the Lord rescued me, I went through some serious years of – for genuine lack of a better word – rebellion. Suffice it to say, I lived a lifestyle for a while which wasn't the best. And it wasn't what I truly wanted, but I was essentially trying it out because in the big picture I was unhappy. In hindsight it was because I was lost. Having said that, I know life from both perspectives: without Jesus and with Jesus. 

And, no, knowing Jesus didn't cause me to be instantaneously "perfect," but through Him, I learned how to be better. As much effort as I put into it, I got more than anything the world could offer or match. 

He's the One who told me to write my first novel. He's the One who sustains me and gives me stories. Those stories are filled with the contrasts of "lost and saved." Realistically. 

So. There are literally millions of romance novels and love stories of all kinds in the reading world. How does one author build an audience for enough readers to sustain that audience? Especially when this author is a terrible marketer. And then I ask myself: Am I the only one who loves my writing? And should I even say that? The reason I love it is because it's the kind of romance/love stories I want to read. There are very few of them in this genre in Christain Fiction. Which is why I primarily read thrillers/mystery/suspense.  

Just my Monday Musings . . . 

Father, you know me. You know my every thought and whim. You know my every need. You are the One who sustains me. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

The heavens declare the glory of God;

  the skies proclaim the work of His hands.

Day after day they pour forth speech;

  night after night they display knowledge.

There is no speech or language

  where their voice is not heard.

Their voice goes out into all the earth,

  their words to the ends of the earth.

In the heavens he has pitched a tent for the sun,

  which is like a bridegroom coming forth

     from his pavilion.

  like a champion rejoicing to run his course.

It rises at one end of the heavens 

  and makes its circuit to the other;

  nothing is hidden from its heat.

The law of the Lord is perfect,

  reviving the soul.

The statutes of the Lord are trustworthy,

  making wise the simple.

The precepts of the Lord are radiant,

  giving light to the eyes.

The fear of the Lord is pure, enduring forever.

The ordinances of the Lord are sure

  and altogether righteous.

They are more precious than gold,

  than much pure gold; 

they are sweeter than honey,

  than honey from the comb. 

By them is your servant warned;

  in keeping them there is great reward.

Who can discern his errors?

  Forgive my hidden faults.

Keep your servant also from willful sins;

  may they not rule over me.

Then I will be blameless,

  innocent of great transgression.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation

       of my heart

  be pleasing in your sight,

  O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.

Psalm 19 (NIV)

5 Questions

If could travel anywhere outside of your state, where would you go? 

What is your favorite dog breed?

If you had to name your favorite beverage, what would you say?

If you had to read 5 different genres (novels) for one whole year, what would they be? 

Do you have a favorite jacket or coat? 

Father, thank you for plain old entertainment, fun, laughter, and all things that help initiate good moods. We need them, and we're always desperate for you. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Sweet Release was originally published well before 2020 and is one of my earlier e-books, not available in print. 

This is an excerpt from the second chapter.

CHAPTER TWO

Matthew Preston pushed his handsome 6 ft. frame out of the chair and stood, looking down at the woman he loved—more like a girl in a lot of ways. Truthfully, he was relieved to see her choked up. He’d half expected her to congratulate him with an enthusiastic smile and wish him well. He reached down and pulled her up to him.

     “If you change your mind, I’ll be waiting.” With a sad expression he took her face in his strong hands and kissed her lips tenderly. “I love you, CM.” Then he walked out of the room and down the hall, leaving her to her life.

     Matthew Earl Preston decided a month ago to take this new job—to relocate back in his home state of California. So by the time he told his company he’d accept their lucrative offer, his younger brother James had agreed to take over his lease and apartment, and they squared it all up with the manager. His parents looked forward to spending time with Matt and having him around the area again. 

     Matt’s first thoughts upon receiving this promotion went immediately to CM. He’d already determined she was the one with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life—no one had achieved that status in his life, although many had certainly tried. Until she dropped her Tully’s double mocha on his brand new shoes as she rushed out of the coffee shop one early rainy morning on her way to work, he’d convinced himself he was having fun playing the field. He smiled as he remembered the mixed expressions instantaneously crossing her face at that moment. First, there was utter disdain that someone had gotten in her way and wasted her full mocha when she was in such a hurry. Then as she looked up to see who this scalawag might be, she was obviously taken aback by his handsomeness – this blondish tall guy (compared to her petite height) dressed in a black cashmere overcoat, exposing a pinstriped suit. Those shoes had cost him plenty.

     “I—oh, I’m sooo sorry,” she stammered, her hands almost transfixed in a surrendered position. “Uh, let me get some napkins,” she said as she turned around quickly to head back into the shop and nearly separated another patron from his fancy cup of coffee.

     At that point, Matt smiled at her and gently led her by the arm out of the way and back into the coffee shop. “It’s alright,” he’d said. “They’re just shoes, you know.”

     She’d blushed a hot shade of red and apologized again. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, exaggerating her hand gestures in complete embarrassment.

     “Well, yeah, now that you mention it, there is,” he’d replied with some seriousness and then nearly laughed as he watched a new expression of pure panic appear on her face.  “You can let me replace what you dropped.”

     His proposal didn’t register on her face for a few seconds, but when it did, she replied, “Oh, no.  I couldn’t let you do that—it was my fault. Too big a hurry as usual. Always cutting it too close, you know? No—let me buy yours this morning,” she’d added, fumbling in her purse for her wallet. “It’s the least I could do.”

     Gently he stopped her search. “I insist.”

     She blushed again and remained silent.

     “Since you’re in a hurry, I won’t keep you, but here’s my card,” he offered, reaching smoothly into his inside coat pocket. “I’d like an opportunity to talk to you. Do you come here every morning?”

     “Well, yeah, but—”

     “Then I’ll meet you here tomorrow, say 6 AM?” he suggested, looking at his watch.  “What are you having?” he asked as they arrived at the counter. 

     Once they got their coffees, he gave her his last pitch. “I know you’re in a hurry, so I’ll be waiting here tomorrow morning. See you then, alright?” He hadn’t waited for her answer.

     She’d stood there with her mouth ready to make an excuse but unable to get one formulated in the brief time he gave her to decide.

     Matt smiled at the memory. It was a year and a half ago – seemed like a couple of weeks ago in more ways than one because he remembered the way he felt when she finally looked up at him after dousing his shoes. She wanted to snarl but was overcome by what he looked like, and it gave him a charge he hadn’t expected – not because of the effect he had on her because, honestly, he was used to getting the double takes from females but rather because of the effect she had on him. There was this undeniable look of innocence in her eyes, something so rare in nearly every woman he knew these days. She was only 5’ 3” tall and had a slender frame. Her medium brown naturally curly hair was still wet from a morning shower or from the rain outside, and her blue eyes were absolutely penetrating when she’d looked up into his. He was captivated by her being flustered and couldn’t wait to have some time with her, but he sensed the only plausible thing to do with her would be to meet her in a public setting on familiar turf – asking her out would’ve endangered any further contact with her, and he was right about that he later learned once they’d started dating. But, it also seemed like their first encounter had only been a short time ago because once they’d gotten to a certain point in their relationship, CM shut down and what might have grown into true intimacy never materialized on her part. She drew this invisible line in their relationship and refused to cross it, and although she kept redefining the line for Matt, she would never let him cross it either.

     The last couple of months had been especially hard. He was convinced he loved her and wanted to marry her, but talk of any commitment was beyond that sacred line, and rather than risk her running off, he remained quiet and endured. Until he just couldn’t do it anymore. When the job offer came up, he waited for the opportune moment to bring up the possibility of her joining him in his endeavor, but it became clear to him that special moment wasn’t going to happen, and he began to realize having her only partially involved in his life was not what he wanted. He couldn’t take the casual relationship anymore. He was a firm believer in moving forward—treading water was tiresome and pointless—something you did only when you hoped to be rescued. Clearly, she wasn’t throwing him a lifeline.

Father, thank you is never enough. Truth is: Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

If you've followed this blog or read articles on it here and there, you'll find multiple posts about or regarding the general genre of Christian Fiction. Much of those posts have expressed some frustrations. Not because of the authors who write it – after all, I'm one of them. Not because of many of the books published by the remaining publishing houses because I've read so many great stories written by remarkable authors. 

My problem with Christian Fiction can be the audience they cater to. Those readers who look for reasons to be offended, who challenge authors that don't meet what they consider their high standards or doctrinal demands, and those who insist that the novels they read must be "clean." The trendy "clean fiction" on the cover(s) is telltale to the segment of readers who seem to view themselves as the guardians of upright and proper Christian Fiction. 

I think most of us have learned that life is not "clean" all the time – even for devout followers of Christ. We're born into sin, we must confront it and repent for ours in order to be redeemed by our Lord Jesus Christ. Sin is dirty. To portray those who are not yet saved – whether or not they will be – is a prerequisite to telling a real story. In order to do that, there will inevitably be those characters who are living in their sins. That's truth. How it's handled is of course important and critical to making the story meaningful. I can guarantee the process won't be "clean." Unlike in the general market, Christian authors imply cussing/swearing/etc., and we don't use graphic descriptions of sexual acts and situations. However, to eliminate references to those events is to ignore the majority of conduct in this world. 

Sometimes making a story real requires that an author show the down and dirty parts of people in the world. They need Jesus. Every Christian has been down and dirty whether or not they admit it to themselves or anyone else. If they repented to come to Christ, they acknowledged their down and dirty sins to get salvation. 

Father, thank you for forgiving me, for continuing to give me grace and mercy as I travel the road of life. Help me to be the one you designed me to be. I'm always desperate for you. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

Michael McDonald and Patti LaBelle! Great duet. Great voices. 

Father, may all who've received your gifts and talents know from whom they're given. In the Name of Jesus, Amen. 

I enjoy the different ways stories come to be told. Pre-conceived ideas that make it all the way to a finished manuscript, the stark realization that hits mid-thought of something else and becomes the compelling reason for another story. The experience that forms a narrative in the mind and makes its way into a plot. All the unique occurrences responsible for wonderful fiction.

As you know, I write love stories, heavy on the romance. And those of you who are familiar with my work know I wrote one murder mystery/police procedural. I will tell you how that came to be. A few years before I began that novel, I had a scene in my mind that became the focus of the first scene in that story. Immediately I thought, "I can't write a mystery!" And moved on. Suffice it to say, that scene came to me multiple times until I finally succumbed to the Lord's nudging, taking me back to the racetrack for its location. My oldest son introduced me to a friend who was a detective in the police force at the time, and, as they say, the rest is history. 

Race was the hardest novel for me to write because of the foreign territory of actually writing a murder mystery that featured a detective as the hero. So difficult for me because of the fear of making critical mistakes, using clichéd characters and situations, and basically embarrassing myself in the process in spite of excellent tutelage from the detective who helped me get things right. I got mostly good reports on it and even a State Patrolman read and enjoyed it. 

So that's how Race came to be . . . 

Father, you're amazing, patient, and so creative. Thank you for sharing your beautiful creativity with your creation. Nothing like you. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.

" . . . Your eye is the lamp of your body. When your eyes are good, your whole body also is full of light. But when they are bad, your body also is full of darkness. See to it, then, that the light within you is not darkness. Therefore, if your whole body is full of light, and no part of it dark, it will be completely lighted, as when the light of a lamp shines on you."  (Jesus)

Luke 11:34-36 (NIV)