Between Breaths (The Seattle Sound Series Book 2) (25 page)

D
ear Readers
,

Thank you so much for your support! This wouldn’t be anywhere near as much fun without you.

If you enjoyed this novel, I’d be grateful if you’d write a short review and post it on Amazon or your favorite book site (iBooks, Kobo, Goodreads, etc.). By taking a few seconds to leave a review, you not only help out your favorite authors, you help new readers find them as well—a total win-win!

T
o hear
about my new books, sign up for my
newsletter here.

W
ith a degree
in international marketing and a varied career path that includes content management for a web firm, marketing direction for a high-profile sports agency, and a two-year stint with a renowned literary agency, Alexa Padgett has returned to her first love: writing fiction.

Alexa spent a good part of her youth traveling. From Budapest to Belize, Calgary to Coober Pedy, she soaked in the myriad smells, sounds, and feels of these gorgeous places, wishing she could live in them all—at least for a while. And she does in her books.

She lives in New Mexico with her husband, children, and ginormous, piano-hating Anatolian Shepherd, Mozart. When not writing, schlepping, or volunteering, she can be found in her tiny kitchen, channeling her inner Barefoot Contessa.

• @AlexaPadgett
  
• AlexaPadgettAuthor
  

T
here are so
many people I need to thank. This journey wasn’t an easy one. First, my husband, Chris, and my parents. Your support made this possible.

Jeffe, I love our bubbles dates and all the knowledge you’ve shared over the years. I’m so very blessed to call you a friend. Your kitties aren’t bad either. And, no, Izzy is
nothing
like Princess.

Taylor, your thoughtful comments were insightful and so very helpful. I’m so glad we’ve had the opportunity to work together.

Juliette, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the help with the Aussie-isms. And for reading such an early draft and giving me hope there was, indeed, something special in this story.

My LERA friends, thank you so much for your generosity and support.

Clarissa, thank you for an amazing cover. I love it.

Nicole, your thoughtful edits made this book shine. I cannot thank you enough. I’ve so enjoyed getting to know you and now count you a dear friend as well as a kick-ass editor.

Sara, your careful read-through caught the final timeline issues. Thank you so much, and I hope Bumbershoot was super fun!

Erin, you amaze me with your ability to create such strong back-cover copy. My books are stronger because of your efforts. Thank you.

And to my readers, thank you, thank you, thank you for reading. You’re the best! Be sure to say hello on Facebook or Twitter. I’d love to “meet” you all.

S
WEET SOLACE
, Book One in the Seattle Sound Series

S
he Knew
Him When

When they first met, she was far too young—seventeen, and already in love with the man who would break her heart. Asher Smith was an up-and-coming songwriter, but he knew better than to show his fascination. He wrote a song for Dahlia. And then he moved on. His whiskey-rough voice made him a star, even as fame extracted its price.

He Never Forgot Her

When she sees Asher next, Dahlia Dorsey is the widowed mother of a teenager, a reclusive writer. She’s given up on happy endings—she can’t even script them for her characters. But a moonlit beach and the touch of an old friend turn loose her pain and her desires, whether she’s ready or not.

They’re Risking It All

Dahlia’s career is on the rocks. Asher’s family is falling apart. Neither can chase a passing attraction. But for two souls wounded worse than they can admit, the connection between them is a balm too precious to refuse—and a thrill too exhilarating to resist . . .

T
HE SPIRIT SEDUCER
, Book One in the Echo Series

A
god undone by prophecy
. A warrior strong as the earth. And the woman who will decide their fate . . .

T
he dream comes every night
: A warrior clad in leather and wielding a spear, fighting off demons with the heads of jackrabbits and pumas. Defending her.

Echo Ruiz knows it’s ridiculous. There’s no one in Santa Fe less likely to need defending. Thanks to the migraines, she’s confined to her mother’s house. Her Native American Studies classes are online, and she hasn’t made a new friend in a decade.

Until her twenty-first birthday party, when trickster Coyote himself shows up. An hour later, Echo is on the run from the power-hungry god. Her headaches are gone. Her mother is a hostage, and she’s been thrust into a mirror-world of deadly loveliness to fight or die.

Her dream warrior? He’s as real as the sweat on her skin. His name is Zeke, and he remembers a lot more about Echo than she does about him. So does her best friend, Layla, who has secrets Echo’s never guessed.

But if Echo wants to defeat Coyote—if she wants to survive—she’ll have to discover the way herself. Because that’s one ending the legends have never told . . .

T
HE MAGICIAN’S RUINS
, Book Two in the Echo Series

T
he portals
to the underworld are unguarded, and demons roam free in the Southwest. To return the world to balance, Echo Maria Ruiz must survive enough trials to meet with the Magician in his ruined city and learn the secrets he holds. Secrets like the location of her best friend.

Alone and unprepared, Echo must trust Honani, her spirit guardian, and Zeke, the handsome, mysterious warrior who carries her on the back of his motorcycle, battling demons and monsters at her side. In her darkest moments in the Magician’s ruins, Echo discovers betrayal lurks, and her warrior may not be
her
hero after all.

R
ead
on for a peek at Ets’s story, HOLD YOU CLOSE!

F
ourteen months ago
, I tossed away my entire life. For him. Murphy. He didn’t know any of it, and, finally, I was coming to terms with the fact he probably never would.

He didn’t want to see me, never would again. His song, “She’s So Bad,” made that abundantly clear.

I fingered the ticket in my pocket and pulled out the copy of the letter I hadn’t wanted to send. Because I hadn’t wanted us to be over. But my life sure as certain wasn’t a fairy tale, and I wasn’t going to get a happily ever after.

I walked down the narrow, hard-packed dirt path, ducking under the thick limb of a gnarled tree. The last few days proved even harder than I anticipated—wasn’t the first year supposed to be the hardest?—but the visit to Me-Kwa-Mooks Park was nonnegotiable. I needed the soft sound of water to ground me, give me a reason to move forward. Problem was, water, the beach, reminded me of Murphy. Even this gray Seattle version, so different from our Sydney favorite with its soft, white sand and surfers dotting the water.

I settled in on the narrow strip of sand, gazing out over the tumbled gray boulders and the fog-riddled green-gray water. I bawled my eyes out, but even the overflow of emotion didn’t alleviate the building knot in my chest. I patted my other pocket. Thank goodness I had my trusty little bottle of Xanax, the only reason I’d get through these next few days.

Pulling out the ticket, I read the date. He’d be here in two weeks, performing for sold-out crowds at Key Arena, and the more intimate Showbox. That’s the ticket I held now. Probably a complete waste of eighty dollars, but I needed to see him. Just once more. I’d mailed the original letter to his mother earlier today, knowing she’d make sure he got it when he returned home at the end of their tour. Ten days until she received it, give or take problems with customs. Two weeks, tops, and this chapter in my life was closed. Unfinished, but over.

Maybe—finally—I could move on. I rested my elbows on my knees and looked out over the water. Seaweed clung to the boulders, driftwood littered the dark brown sand. I wrinkled my nose. Nothing like the beaches we used to frequent years ago when our future was bright, shiny, perfect. How wrong I’d been. How stupid to think I’d ever—ever—escape from the nightmare my mother had caused.

My phone rang.

“Mila!”

Mum’s voice sent me back into a tailspin. I might love my mother, but that didn’t mean I trusted her. She’d let me down too many times. She was part of the reason I’d moved.

“I’m thinking of coming for a visit. I’ve never been to America.”

And my stomach tanked even further. “That’s okay, mum. I’ll get out to visit you.” Lie, lie, lie. I’d never set foot in Australia again. I’d made that promise on my first—and last—trip to the cemetery to visit my son.

She made a disgruntled sound. “You’ve said that for the last year. And last time we Skyped, you were so thin! It’s those crazy hours you work.”

“I like my job,” I said, standing. No point in sitting here enjoying a view when my mum’s chatter had already destroyed the moment.

“I don’t know how you could. You haven’t been home for a visit in years. I barely know what you do.”

“Because you’re not interested.”

“Of course I am. Jordan asks me all the time.”

At the sound of his name, I stumbled. The phone slid from my fingers but I managed to catch it before it hit the dirt.

“You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?”

“Now, why would you worry about that?” Her voice was all innocent. She’d blinked her eyes, I’d bet. I hated that look because it meant she’d done something royally stupid. Or insane. Like the time she’d married a man fifteen years older than she was. The bloke was a rancher with a cattle station out in the Western Territory. Their affair lasted long enough for us to travel to his godforsaken stretch of red, dusty land before my mum dug in her heels, insisting he take us back to “civilization.” He’d dropped us in Sydney, disgust shining from his eyes.

That summed up my childhood—one flighty mistake after another. At least the mistakes didn’t hurt anyone. Until Jordan. But he wasn’t my mum’s mistake. More like
her
mum’s.

“Mum,” I said. I backed away, planning to dart back into my car and . . . what? Hyperventilate? Call the police because I was scared?

“Don’t be like that, Mila.” Impatience laced her tone. Her mouth must be puckering in that annoyed moue she tried hard not to let settle over her near-perfect skin. “Jordan loves you. And anyway, why would he care about your boring old doctor job in the Pacific Northwest?”

“You told him I live here?” My voice went from too loud to too quiet. I couldn’t breathe. I clutched my keys and purse like they could hold me erect.

Allowing my mum to visit was the
worst
idea. Danger smeared this situation. At least she only knew I was in the Northwest. I’d never given her the precise location, fearing she’d rat me out. I glanced around the deserted Seattle beach. My private sanctuary destroyed with fears of being accosted. Dragged from the safety of my life. Raped.

“It’s been
years
since you made up those silly accusations, Mila. Nothing came of it and Jordan’s forgiven you. Let it go.”

Actually, it had been twelve months and twenty-one days since my last run-in with Jordan Jones. I dropped a small pill into my open mouth and swallowed. Thirty-one minutes and the relief would begin to trickle through my system. I closed my eyes.

“See? A lifetime. I’ll make the flight arrangements today. Should I fly into Seattle or Spokane? Maybe Vancouver? Portland?”

Sweat burst across my skin. Subtlety wasn’t my mother’s strong suit. It was obvious Jordan had asked her to fish for more information. I grabbed a tree branch as I passed by, holding it tight in my hand as my knees weakened.

“Oops! I’m late for my next appointment. I’ll touch base with you soon.” I hung up the phone before my mum could respond. I’d turn it off completely but I needed the reassurance of being able to call 911 in under five seconds. My legs gave out completely and I plopped onto the ground, my breathing ragged and my eyes stinging with the tears I wouldn’t shed.

My mum hadn’t believed me then. Not when I was eighteen and scared. Not when I was twenty-one and jaded. And definitely not when I was twenty-six and so broken, I never would have been able to put myself back together if my best friend, Noelle, hadn’t collected my sorry self and forced me onto that airplane.

That my mother would actively help Jordan seek me out again, even after I’d moved halfway around the world, told me how little she’d ever cared for me.

But she didn’t know where I lived, and I wasn’t about to tell her.

Anyway, I was being silly. Jordan was in Sydney. I kept tabs on him through social media. Well, actually Noelle was the face of the accounts. I couldn’t be that close to him, not even via the binary code of computers.

I released a shaking breath and forced my legs under me. No way my mum would bring him here. I sucked in a breath and released it slowly. My legs were stiff but I managed to stand and walk to the car. I settled into the supple leather seat. Immediately, I locked the doors and slid the key into the ignition. Shoving the car into reverse, I refused to acknowledge that my hands trembled or my breath came in shallow pants.

I was safe. Thousands of miles away from Jordan Jones. There was no reason to panic. No reason to worry.

I pulled over onto a side street and let the shivers take hold of my body. Finally, the medication kicked in and I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes as I forced my tensed muscles to relax.

My mum’s phone call brought it all back. All the ugliness I’d been trying so hard to put behind me.

I’d wanted to go back to Perth for the anniversary of his death, but I couldn’t gather enough courage. Plus, I’d reasoned, Murphy was in Europe. Not much chance of me running into him there. And that’s what I needed: a chance meeting.

To tell him the truth.

To apologize for killing his child.