Prophecy's Healing: Prophecy Series, #5

Prophecy’s Healing

Book Five in The Prophecy Series

Brenda Dyer

The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

––––––––

All Rights Reserved

Copyright April, 2016 by Brenda Dyer

http://www.brendamdyer.com

Cover by Designs By Duff

https://www.facebook.com/DesignsByDuff/

Prophecy Series:

Love’s Prophecy: Book 1

Prophecy’s Child: Book 2

Prophecy’s Power: Book 3

Prophecy’s Language: Book 4

Prophecy’s Healing: Book 5

Prophecy’s Awakening: Book 6

––––––––

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Dedication

To my husband. Without your support I never could have taken on this writing journey. And to my two sons. You two are my pride and joy.

To Lisa. What can I say that I haven’t already said in past dedications? I love you. Thank you for always being there for me. Thank you for taking my rough story and smoothing out the sharp edges. I’m so blessed to have you as my editor and friend

To Melissa. You are a formatting angel. Thank you so much.

To Rhonda. The covers you’ve created for my novels are wonderful, as are you.

Vampire Prophecy

In the depth of time

when all sorrow shall climb

The gods shall send

the ones to help bring about the end

From these shall spring

The saviors to whom all shall cling

From light and dark

look for the mark.

The time will come

when the two shall make one.

Small warriors of light

dark warriors of might

From light and dark

look for the mark.

Chapter 1

Surrey, British Columbia, Canada

Friday, May 19th, 10:59 pm

Ace slugged back the last few swallows of beer, and then slammed the mug down. He got up from his seat situated in a weakly lit corner at the rear of the nightclub called The Green Tree. The club was appropriately named for the neon sign in the shape of a green palm tree planted on the flat roof.

You ready to split? Soren asked.

Ace shot the blond, green-eyed vampire a quick glance. Gotta take a leak first.

Move it—the night’s wearing on.

Soren’s commanding tone and words grated on his nerves. Instantly, a flash of anger pushed his already foul mood into lethal terrain. Leave. No one’s stopin’ you.

You’re on probation in case you’ve forgotten. You’re to hunt with a partner until further notice. And tonight, I’m stuck with your sorry ass.

Probation. What a joke. A month ago while hunting, Ace came across a demon and human conducting drug business in an alley. During the fight, the human male had gotten in the way and ended up with his throat slashed—by the demon. Wasn’t Ace’s fault. He did his job as far as he was concerned—the demon now resided back in hell. But the Sacred Order didn’t see it that way. The human’s death had been splashed all over the news, so the Order wanted damage control—and that meant Ace had to now hunt with a partner. The other warriors in the squad were on babysitting duty, a fact that sent his blood boiling.

Ace ground his molars. Wanna hold my dick while I piss so I don’t sneak out the back door?

He didn’t bother waiting to see what the second-in-command of the Surrey’s branch of demon-slayers had to say. He didn’t give a flying fuck about Soren, the other slayers, or the demons and the war for human souls. And most of all, he didn’t give a flying good fuck about following other asshole’s rules. The more others tried to enforce their bullshit on him, the harder he fought against the invisible tethers.

He weaved his way through the heavy throng of humans. All his vampire senses were on alert for any sign of demons or danger. Inhaling, he processed the scents rushing up his nostrils. The smell of human blood and sweat permeated the air, along with the sweet aroma of different types of alcohol, but no reek of flesh rot, which signified a demon was present. Music from the club’s Friday night band throbbed and mixed with the raucous laughter and shouts from the sloshed assortment of people packed inside.

Ace eyed a drunken human male who stumbled out from the men’s bathroom. The piece of shit tried to do up his fly with one hand while the other clasped the handle of a beer mug. He blocked the entrance, swaying and mumbling as he fought with his zipper. Ace needed to use the can, and he wasn’t going to wait for a dumb-shit loser to do what he should’ve before leaving the room.

Move it, asshole. Ace didn’t wait for a reply. He elbowed the prick aside then kept walking.

A thud followed by an explosion of thick glass hitting the floor, and a string of curses signified the waste-of-skin had dropped his mug.

As Ace shoved open the bathroom door, the strong ammonia stench of urine and the cloying reek of urinal cakes wafted out. Before he slipped inside, a hand clamped around his arm and pulled him to a stop.

Hey, fuckhead. You owe me another beer. The drunk’s slurred words were clue-one the guy was hammered and not thinking straight. Clue-two, the fact the moron dared to touch and speak to a guy five times bigger than he was.

A slow smile took the place of Ace’s perpetual scowl. Show time.

He whirled around and wrapped his fingers about the scrawny man’s throat. The guy’s bloodshot shit-brown eyes widened, and a strangled squawk issued from his opened mouth, pushing the smell of booze up Ace’s nostrils.

Tightening his hold, Ace bared his teeth, careful to keep his fangs tucked up in his gums. I owe you nothing. I gave you fair warning to move.

Let...me...go. The human clawed at Ace’s fingers clamped around his throat.

One sharp twist and the pus-bag’s neck would snap. Nothing would make him happier than to see the glazed look of death in the piece of crap’s eyes.

Fuck, he hated humans. If it weren’t for the fact vampires needed their blood to survive, he’d side with the demons and help them rid the planet of the useless garbage. Once done, he’d turn on the demon pricks and annihilate their asses, too.

Fight! Fight! A small group of young men, eager to see blood spilled, circled around Ace, keeping a safe distance.

A part of him wanted to give the fools what they craved only because the rage building inside needed an outlet before he exploded. Thankfully, he contained his wrath.

The drunk’s face turned purple, and his lips opened and closed like a fish.

Punch ‘em, dude, someone said from the crowd.

Ace curled the fingers of his left hand inward, making a fist. The urge to pound the holy hell out of this cocksucker surged through him like a raging river.

But what’d be the point? One hit and the fucker would hit the floor out cold. The fight would be over before it started.

Besides, if Roarik caught wind that he’d caused a scene at The Green Tree, he’d endure yet another lecture while his ass was parked in one those hideous chick chairs his squad leader liked so much. Normally, he’d take the risk, but tonight it just didn’t seem worth it.

Maybe he was going soft?

He smirked. Right.

Ace glanced at the excited crowd, flashed a one-sided smile, then tossed the choking shit-rat toward them like a bowling ball.

As the rolling drunk smashed into their legs, four of the bloodthirsty humans toppled and dropped their drinks.

Ace laughed, then waltzed into the john.

Two men, dressed in jeans and crisp button-down shirts, glanced over at him. They looked him up and down before dismissing him.

Fury flooded him. Where the hell did these weak puke-sacks get off dismissing him like he was nothing but dirt?

Hey, fuckwads, Ace said with a deadly snarl. Get the fuck out.

They both stopped talking. The tallest of the duo glanced over at him. A frown wrinkled his forehead. Excuse me?

Excuse me, Ace repeated the prick’s words in a high-pitched voice. He lifted his lips and flashed his teeth. You heard me. Now beat it before I ram you both, headfirst, through the door.

The shorter male ran a shaky hand over his close-cropped brown hair. Let’s go, Dan.

Dan, who obviously was short a few bricks, shook his blond head. What’s your problem, man?

At the moment? You assholes. A muscle along his jaw jumped with anticipation. Didn’t they understand how close they were to getting their asses kicked? Were they that stupid?

Sure, he was always spoiling for a fight, but tonight the need was more intense than normal.

And he knew damn well why.

When he’d woken up this evening, his mood had been at an all-time low due to a bad dream dredged up from his past. And he couldn’t shake the strangling effects from the nightmare. The only way he knew how to overcome his turbulent emotions was through fighting—though demons were usually his intended target, not humans, who vampires were supposed to protect.

"Why don’t you leave?" Tall, Blond, and Stupid said with a holier-than-thou attitude.

Blackness surrounded Ace, and his focus narrowed on the speaker’s flapping lips. Without another word, he marched across the white tile floor.

The men shrank back against a stall door and raised their hands in surrender.

Too late. They were leaving the bathroom through the door—headfirst like he’d promised.

Dan, the loser man, tried to run, but Ace snagged his shirt, jerked him back, then grabbed his buddy by the throat.

Stop—we’ll leave—just let us go, Military Haircut squeaked.

Blondie fought to get loose, but he didn’t have the strength.

Ace dragged them across the paper-towel strewn floor. With a violent shove, he propelled them out the swinging door. He caught a quick glimpse of the men sliding across the short hallway before they crashed into the crowd still milling around the entrance.

The door swung closed. Ace dusted off his hands, then marched to the nearest urinal.

After he zipped up his fly and washed his hands, he exited the bathroom. The crowd had dispersed, but a waitress squatted down, wiping up the spilled beer with a rag. A dustpan filled with broken glass sat next to her pink sneakers.

Her back was presented to him, so he couldn’t see her face, but her lengthy blonde ponytail slipped over one shoulder, baring her long, pale neck.

Bloodlust reared up and his fangs slipped down. Shit, he’d quenched his blood thirst three nights ago. He should be fine for another week at least.

Ace stared at the back of her neck, following the column as it flared out into the graceful lines of her shoulders. The hot-pink uniform she wore sagged off one shoulder, baring it to his gaze. Delicate bones and small muscles moved as she dragged the cloth over the floor.

Bloody drunken assholes, she muttered. Like I don’t have enough to do?

Her whispered words weren’t meant for anyone except her. However, he not only heard what she’d said, but he also caught the annoyance saturating her tone. He found he liked her sass and anger.

The thought of grabbing the little waitress and shoving her into the bathroom so he could sink his teeth into her throat gripped his common sense and wrestled it for control.

His rational mind warned him not to eat where he drank. Some of the other warriors fucked and fed from the waitresses working at The Green Tree, but Ace preferred hunting his prey on the mean streets of Surrey. He enjoyed the hunt—he didn’t want to be hand-fed like a caged lion.

He forced his canines back into his gums and took a step around her.

The crunch of glass under his hiking boot alerted her to his presence. Her head jerked around and her eyes widened. Oh, she whispered with breathless surprise.

Ace’s heart ground to a skidding stop before it jumped back into racing action.

Sophia?

No, this chick wasn’t Sophia, but the waitress’ features were similar to the whore he’d once loved—the betraying bitch who destroyed his life.

The woman’s pale blue eyes, so much like Sophia’s, traveled over him. He read bewilderment in her stare. The rag fell from her fingers as she stood, and she took a couple steps away.

Christ. Though his logical mind told him this wasn’t the lying, scheming slut from his past, their resemblance was unnerving.

Intense hatred dropkicked his gut. Blood pounded in his ears as murderous rage filled him from head to toe. The need to wrap his fingers around her thin throat and squeeze until her eyes bulged—until she breathed her last breath—pulled him in her direction.

The woman backed up until her ass hit the wall next to the bathroom.

He shadowed her movements. A low growl rumbled from between his clenched teeth.

His sanity ripped. He fought to pull the shredded ends together, but he lost the fight. No longer was Ace in the short hallway at the back of a seedy nightclub. His mind transported him to the night his soul had died.

Screams of dying humans and vampires filled his head. Arid smoke burned his nose and throat, and the metallic scent of blood overpowered all.

In the past and present, Ace reached for Sophia. Her eyes turned round with terror—she knew he meant to kill her.

Help, she squeaked.

No one can help you, bitch. You deserve to rot in hell. Ace wasn’t sure if he’d spoken the words aloud, but they rebounded in his skull, ramping his hate and fury to dangerous levels. For what the calculating, murderous witch had done, death was too kind. She deserved to suffer the way he had.

The burning reek of smoldering wet leaves rushed up his nose. Uncertainty yanked him out of his trance. After all these years he could still remember the smell of Sophia’s terror from that night, but the fear scent surrounding him now wasn’t it.

Ace shook off the last of the apparition. The echo of people laughing and the deep thud, thud of rock music coming from the nightclub’s live band drowned out the shrieks of death, pain and battle.

The waitress cowered in front of him, but she didn’t try to get loose from the tight grip he had on one of her shoulders. As she stared at him, she sucked in a hissing breath and winced.

Ace released his hold and stumbled back a few steps. Instantly, she rubbed her shoulder, never breaking eye contact.

Fucking hell—he’d been ready to choke an innocent woman.

She sagged against the wall, still holding her shoulder, and regarded him with a mixture of fear, confusion, and a healthy dose of indignation.

I’m losing it—Sophia’s long dead. Why can’t I leave her buried?

Because the bitch got the better of you.

Ace closed his eyes briefly, trying to get himself back on an even keel.

Although the hallucination from his past still skulked on the outskirts of his mind, he was clear-headed enough to now note the obvious differences between the two women.

Both shared the same light-blonde hair color, but Sophia’s had been a mass of curly waves that reached her waist. This chick’s tresses were straight and definitely not as lengthy—mid-back maybe if released from the ponytail.

The waitress’ face was longer and narrowed at the chin, while Sophia’s had been plump and round. Another glaring variation between them was their body types. Again, now that his brain was thinking clearer, he realized they were as different as night and day. Sophia had been built heavier, with shorter legs, big tits and broader hips. This lady was taller, slimmer—more athletically built—and her tits and ass were small. In fact, her breasts hardly filled out the front of her hot pink uniform.

But their eyes...the waitress’ eyes were carbon copies of Sophia’s: almond shaped, with pale blue irises and long lashes. Except where Sophia’s lashes had been the same fair color as her hair, the stranger’s were coated with black mascara.

Ace swallowed as he stared at her lips. They were full and what some called pouty, and they looked soft. Sophia had lips exactly the same size, shape and rosy color.

Eyes and lips. That was where the familiarities ended.

But that wasn’t completely true. There was something more about the little waitress that reminded Ace of Sophia, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

You’re insane. That’s what going on. The bitch is dead! She’s worm food.

Tremors started in his legs and soon enveloped his body. His teeth chattered, and sweat soaked his hair. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was freaked out.

Blackness closed in on him. Ace sucked in air, but he couldn’t get it to stay in his lungs.

Hey, Mister. Are you okay? Are you ill?

Her quiet voice slid up his spine like icy fingers, and goose bumps spread like cold fire over his skin.

No, I’m not okay. Ace nodded anyway.

Concern replaced the apprehension in her eyes. You look like you’re about to faint.

I’m fine, he snarled through clenched teeth.

She looked him over, and then gulped. Were you having a seizure?

No. He didn’t bother telling her he’d been a tweak away from snapping her neck.

Ace ran a hand through his hair and pushed the tattered mass away from his hot face. Without another word, he stormed past her and headed to the back exit.

He hammered down on the bar and kicked open the metal door, staggering out onto the grated landing. The cool night air hit his overheated face, and a stiff breeze blew through the sweat-soaked strands of his hair.

Fog created hazy light halos around the tops of street lamps while tendrils of low-level clouds drifted amongst the six cars parked in a line near a six-foot-tall concrete divider.

Off in the distance, a foghorn bellowed, warning any boats in the area to be on alert for hazards.

The dense clouds reminded him of the thick smoke that had blanketed the courtyard of his family’s castle from the many fires burning—fires set by a clan of vampire slayers—Sophia’s father’s clan...

Sophia...you worthless slut. You manipulative whore.

Two strides propelled Ace across the landing. He grasped the hand railing and squeezed so hard the iron groaned then slowly bent.

He smiled as he imagined it was the betraying bitch’s neck he strangled.

A picture of the waitress’ pale, frightened face filled his head. His grin vanished, and a shot of panic tore through his gut.

Once more, his muscles shook. He released the handrail and shoved his trembling hands into the pockets of his lumber jacket.

Christ, he could’ve killed her.

Since the night of Sophia’s death, he’d been skating on mental thin ice, but he hadn’t fallen through yet. Or had he?

The other warriors saw it. They told him many times he was dangerous and insane—a sadistic freak. Fuck them. They had no idea what he’d lived through.

He carried Sophia’s ghost and her treachery with him for one reason: to remind himself love was nothing but a farce, designed to make a man let his guard down so a scheming slut could ram a poison dagger through his heart.

Yet, tonight his actions had him questioning his sanity, and not for the first time.

Pain flared in his chest as memories crawled through the murk toward the surface of his mind.

He gripped the sides of his skull and pushed, forcing the ghosts to retreat into the recesses of his brain.

No! She wouldn’t win—he wouldn’t allow it. She’d already stolen enough from him.

When he felt he had himself more under control, Ace blinked and took in a few deep, calming breaths. A couple of young human females walking past the back parking lot of The Green Tree caught his attention. They giggled, and one flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulders.

The street lamp illuminated both women as they strolled under it. The blonde reminded Ace of the waitress: tall, lithe, and pretty. He followed them with his stare until they rounded the corner and disappeared.

Again, his head filled with images of the waitress. Now that he was calmer, small details of her appearance came to him. She was tall, the top of her head had reached his chin, and he stood about six foot five. Though thin, her elegant curves were very feminine, and she had long, shapely legs. He wondered if her pussy was as blonde as the hair on her head. Or maybe she shaved her pubic hair like so many women today—a look he liked a lot.

His cock moved then lengthened. Desire wrapped sensual ropes around him. Yeah, he’d like to get between her legs. A vision of her hands braced against a wall with her ass bared and the skirt of her uniform bunched around her waist sharpened his lust. His fangs slid down and he licked his lips. While he fucked her, he’d shove her hair aside and bite her on the shoulder, hard.

He closed his eyes and allowed his imagination to pull him down. Oh yeah, he wanted to taste her blood as he thrust his cock in and out of her.

Though he’d screwed and fed from many women over the years, he did so mainly out of necessity. So, the fact he wanted the waitress was a welcomed distraction. And Ace always took what he wanted.

He glanced behind at the closed door. No doubt after what happened earlier, she’d be wary of him, but that didn’t matter. He’d use his powers of persuasion to get her into the mood. Plus, she wouldn’t remember a goddamn thing, because he would erase it from her mind the moment he finished.

A slow smile dragged one side of his lips upward. Tonight, after the nightclub closed, he’d be waiting for her.

Chapter 2

Julia Murphy locked her knees and forced her legs not to crumple as she watched the tall stranger storm through the back exit of The Green Tree.

The moment the metal door clanged shut behind him, she let out the breath she’d been holding.

Holy shit. What the hell just happened?

Still staring wide-eyed at the door, Julia wiped a hand over her face. She pressed the other between her breasts, trying to keep her pounding heart from leaping out of her chest. For a second, she’d thought the guy meant to kill her—right here, in public. But why, she had no idea. She’d never met him before.

Or had she?

When she’d first laid eyes on him, her heart went wild and her body lit up with desire as her brain struggled to uncover a long buried memory that clambered toward the surface. But damn, she couldn’t recall how she knew him or when they met.

How could she not remember meeting him before—if in fact they had? He wasn’t the type of man a woman would forget.

Although menace dripped off him like rain and he scared the living crap out of her, she couldn’t help but admire his tall, broad-shouldered body, ruggedly handsome face, and hard, chiselled lips. With his dishevelled black hair and few days beard growth, the guy reminded her of a gunslinger crossed with a medieval knight.

In the dim overhead light, his irises had looked as black as the thick brows pulled low over his eyes—eyes that were full of hate, directed at her.

Goose bumps spread over her exposed arms. Yeah, the guy was one hundred percent creepy. But also sexy in a rough, dangerous way, which would account for her tight nipples.

At first, she believed he’d been afflicted with some sort of sickness—maybe experiencing a seizure—but now she wondered if he was a homeless man suffering from mental illness. His tattered red-and-blue Lumber jacket, ripped jeans and messy appearance looked the part.

That made sense.

His icy words and deep voice catapulted through her mind. No one can help you, bitch—you deserve to rot in hell.

Another wave of tremors zipped under her flesh. Damn, she’d hate to be the real woman on the receiving end of that man’s hatred. Whoever this ‘bitch’ was, she must have hurt him bad.

A glimmer of sympathy twisted in her heart.

Seriously? He probably deserved it—and you’re out of the saving-wounded-men biz.

Perhaps she should call the cops. Give them a description. Could be he had a record. Assault, battery—rape. Murder?

Hey, Julia? Aren’t you finished cleaning up this mess yet? We need you out front. Tables three, five, seven, and nine need attention.

Julia’s head snapped up. Colleen, the head waitress whose green eyes flashed with annoyance, glared at her. She placed her manicured hands on her perfectly rounded hips and tapped one of her high-heeled feet.

Shit, shit, shit. All thoughts of the whacko stranger fell away. Julia quickly straightened her loose uniform and tightened her ponytail. Her first night on the job and she wasn’t making a good first impression. She’d dropped a tray full of drinks earlier and kept giving the patrons the wrong orders. Now it appeared as if she were leaning against the wall, lollygagging.

Colleen folded her arms under her large breasts. Seemed the majority of the waitresses working at The Green Tree had big boobs.

When she applied for the job, the bar manager, Terry, had openly stared at her small breasts. At the time she didn’t understand, but after meeting the other waitresses, it all became clear. He’d been sizing her chest up and found it lacking.

Wonder why he hired me, then? Not because of her waitressing experience since she was lacking in that department as well.

Are you almost done here? Colleen asked with a definite irritated tone as she pointed to the floor.

Bending, Julia picked up the beer-soaked rag and clasped the handle of the dustpan. Yeah—sorry it took so long, but this lunatic—

Put that shit away and move your ass—we’re swamped tonight. Colleen gave Julia a withering look before she stormed off.

Julia dropped the rag and used the toe of her running shoe to wipe up the rest of the beer. "Well excuse me. Was accosted by a freak, but hey, all part of the job, I suppose."

After depositing the cloth and dustpan in the back room, she pulled out her order pad and headed back into the drunken throng.

Colleen wasn’t joking. The nightclub was packed.

She weaved around inebriated customers, trying to remember which tables were hers.

Four hours and two more spilled drink trays later, Julia plunked her ass in a chair at an empty table. She yearned to kick off her shoes and rub her achy feet, but didn’t want to show the other ladies how tired and sore she was.

She glanced at the clock behind the bar. 3:10 am. The club closed at two, but it took over an hour to get the last patron out the door and then start the cleanup.

No bloody wonder she was worn out. Normally, she’d be in bed, sound asleep at this ungodly hour.

Samantha, another waitress working at the club, wandered over. She draped a rag over one shoulder and placed a tray loaded with empty glasses down, then took a seat. A friendly, welcoming smile brightened her pretty face. How was your first night?

Cocking an elbow on the table, Julia rested her chin on her upturned hand. Disastrous. I spilled more drinks than I served.

Samantha chuckled. Happens to us all. Have you served drinks in a club before?

Her cheeks flamed. No—this was my first time. In fact, the only job Julia ever had was as a bank teller. A job she’d kept hidden from her dad for close to three years as part of her deceit.

She closed down that thought path, not needing to rehash all her mistakes—her betrayal. I used to be a bank teller. When I moved to Surrey, I applied at quite a few of the banks in the area, but no positions were available. And since I needed a job fast... She shrugged and smiled. I applied here on a whim and got hired.

You’ll get the hang of this job. Samantha laid a hand on Julia’s arm and squeezed. The money’s good, and so are the tips. And speaking of tips, here’s one for you. The drunker the patron, the bigger the tip. She winked and flashed a thumbs-up.

Thanks. I’ll try to remember that.

Samantha finger-combed her blond hair then stretched her arms and arched her back. Took me weeks to catch on to that trick—and longer to get the hang of working the room smoothly, and how to avoid groping hands. Her smile fell away. If you receive any unwanted attention from the customers, tell Colin. He’s the large bouncer with a scar on his right cheek. She pointed to the bar where a muscular bald man was talking to Gary, the bartender. He’ll take care of any problems for you.

A depiction of the crazed stranger flooded her head like water, dragging with it the feeling she somehow knew him. Again, her mind whirled, trying to connect the dots. But like before, she couldn’t remember.

Oh, this is going to drive me nuts. It reminded her of the times she’d tried to remember the name of a song. It was on the tip of her brain, but she couldn’t grasp it.

Stop thinking about it. It’ll eventually come to you.

Julia? Did you hear me?

She blinked. Umm, yeah. Colin and unwanted attention.

To show Samantha she’d been paying attention, she studied Collin. Christ, as tall, broad, and badass as the bouncer appeared, he’d look like a kitten next to the man who’d accosted her.

For a split second, she thought of telling Colin what had happened, but a voice in her head said not to. Same went for contacting the cops.

The guy was probably just some dude down on his luck—or not all there in the head. Either way, she’d probably never see him again.

Funny how that thought made her kind of sad. Okay, who’s the loon now? The guy’s a whack job.

Thanks, Julia replied. I’ll keep that in mind.

Samantha leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms under her large breasts.

A prick of envy poked her in the belly. Samantha was not only pretty, but she had a killer figure.

Must be nice. Maybe if Julia was a better-looking woman, she wouldn’t have had to try so hard to keep her first and only boyfriend—do anything to please him so he wouldn’t leave her. Then she wouldn’t have disappointed and betrayed her dad...

Stop it. Your life would’ve still turned out the same way, whether you looked like Samantha or not. It wasn’t your looks that got you into this bullshit—it was you!

Face facts. You were—are—a fool. Looks don’t make the person.

At thirty-one, she was content with her figure for the most part. She liked her ass and long legs—her best assets according to her ex, Mark. But he could’ve been lying all those years about that, just like he lied about loving her forever.

And then it hit her. Mark. The stranger reminded her of her ex. They were both tall, dark and handsome.

Though that explanation should’ve solved the mystery, it didn’t.

Shit.

So, where you from? Samantha asked.

The query pulled her out of her thoughts. Though it was a normal enough question, it made her stomach quiver with butterflies because it reminded her of all that had happened, which led up to her leaving—running away—from Ottawa. Not to mention the fact pain and humiliation still held power over her.

Yet Samantha wouldn’t have a clue about her past, and Julia aimed to keep it that way.

Ottawa. No harm in telling her where she’d once lived.

Heard it gets hot there in the summer and lots of snow in the winter.

Yes, on both. But the fall is beautiful. So many colors. A stab of homesickness pierced her heart.

Get over it. You moved to leave all the crap behind—make a fresh start.

How long’ve you lived on the west coast? Samantha clasped her hands