Power of Love

By Willow Fae von Wicken

Attorney Chase Mason suspected Maris Montague wasn’t who she claimed to be, he sensed it, the moment he hired her. She was a mystery, intriguing. Digging into her past raised troubling questions. For one thing he real name was Lilly Conrad and she dodged his prying questions expertly.
Lilly must face the fight of her life, and she needed an alley. She slowly revealed the dark twisted secrets of her past. Then the Bounty Hungers found her. She fled with her son Oliver, and feared that she had she lost Oliver’s only hope.
Chase faced the biggest trial of his life, alone. She had fled, and wasn’t just a client he defended. They were the family he longed to have. To Lilly, he was a tender love that she hadn’t know existed but she couldn’t risk going back. Time had run out on the trial, and love

• Language: English
• Publisher: Willow Fae von Wicken
• Release date: Jan 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311194503

Willow Fae von Wicken

Willow Fae has travelled overseas exploring and embracing inspirations for her novels. Being nurtured in magic her entire life, she brings together enchanting worlds of unique, unforgettable beings, who brave obstacles of great peril, to maintain balance in the world.A college instructor by profession, she has been an online writer for many years, with over 4 million readers. Writing since she could hold a pen, she decided to share her novels with readers who love to escape to celestial worlds.In Willow Fae’s novels, good and evil aren’t always a simple matter of right and wrong, bad luck is the trip to being lucky, and consequences and misfortune are the elements to survival.

Book preview

Title

Power of Love

Written and Illustrated by

WILLOW FAE VON WICKEN

Copyright © 2015 Dymond Publishing

Your support of the Authors Rights is appreciated.

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Table of Contents

Title

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

About the Author

Copyright

Other Works

Dedication

My heroes are cowboys

Willow

Prologue

In the dark hours of the morning, invaders recklessly tore through the garden doors of Lilly Conrad’s sunporch, and breached her rancher’s paradise home. Alerted by simple muted commotion, Lilly awoke from the sleigh bed cut and built by her beloved husband, John. She slipped on a cream satin wrap, and crept through the walnut stained threshold, naïve to unforeseen danger.

Thunderstruck, she discovered moving shadows at the far end of the rustic hallway, created by large men. The shadows appeared in the process of spreading out creating a distance between one another in the form of chain links, and moved swiftly into position. Alarms went off in her head, with hushed urgency she rushed back to the bedroom, and carefully picked up the sleeping babe who lay in the bassinette by the sleigh bed.

The men proceeded to destroy the precious contents of their home. A riot of mass destruction wreaked havoc on the original oil paintings located high on the walls by the living room barn beams. The country kitchens' stained glass windows shattered with one brawny blow including the delicate china sets inherited from her mother. The startling dong rang raucously, as if an old church bell struck, when the luxurious grandfather clock tumbled over with a bash, and left nothing but minced antique cherry wood wedges. Priceless antiques the young couple collected over the years in auctions were thrown against the soaring regal windows, overlooking the peaceful fields of Austin Texas.

The cherished memorabilia’s of her life crashed to floor, and landed in unrecognizable chunks of porcelain, and broken glass. Every light fixture destroyed with clubs, and engulfed Lilly’s home in complete darkness, which effectively absorbed men’s shadows, and concealed their next move. Without a whisper amongst the men, they knew well their purpose, unrifled in their pursuit to terrify the young woman, and rip the precious babe from his mother’s arms.

Lilly Conrad’s panic equally matched with relief, Oliver her baby did not cry and she prayed he stayed calm, and quickly thought of an escape route. Rummaging around the bedroom, rationally she recalled an area where she stubbed her toe what seemed a thousand times, and cursed the latch handle located on the shiny hardwood floor. Dropping to her knees in the black, vigorously she scratched long nails along the floor, frantically searching, and thought hurriedly she should know the exact spot located in the far stretch of the master bedroom.

Upon their initial move into their traditional ranchers homestead, her husband John’s curious nature caused him to take the initiative and play with the latch discovered on the bedroom floor. After fiddling and prying at the small squared lid, whenever the notion hit him, eventually he forced it open as time sealed it shut. After a long exploration, he returned through the sunporch, excited to have found a passageway that all the way to end of their property. Later they researched the homestead at the local county office, and learned the purpose for the passage was to protect homeowners from emergencies such as grandiose storms, and fires, quite a common practice back in the early days of Texan Settlers.

Lilly could think of no other way to avoid the invaders, carefully she locked the bedroom door, and jammed a vanity chair against the handle. Quietly she opened the latch and slipped into the crawl space with Oliver cradled in her arms. Cautiously she covered the baby with a blanket, and ignored the dust as she silently pulled the square lid over their heads, and waited.

Her eyes widened in the blackness, and she felt a sharp rigid device painfully nudge her side. Curiously, her fingers slid round the barrel of the object, with a quickened breath, her thumb encircled a button and pressed it. A pleasant surprise revealed a flashlight. With shaky fingers, she examined the buttons and a soft glow filled the little cubby, thankfully the batteries still worked. She shut it off for the time being, worried that a glow might alert those men. Luckily they haven’t targeted her bedroom, not yet.

She breathed slowly through her nostrils, hardly able to contain her fear, and thanked John in the back of her mind, for leaving the flashlight in the perfect spot. Oliver snuggled contentedly against her breast, an absolute angel who didn’t’ as much as coo, definitely his father’s son. They crouched in the tiny crawl space for a few moments, and it seemed to Lilly as though time froze, she prayed for a safe way out of this nightmare.

The space below the bedroom floor as further investigation on their old homestead revealed, originated in the 1800’s. It was a compact opening that smelled of dust and old wood. Back in the day it provided a passageway leading to the underground shelter located across the backfield. It seemed funny as so many years passed, and still the tunnel suited a purpose.

Lilly cuddled the tiny three-day-old infant and sweetly ran a pinky across his forehead. The pinch and pains from stitches tugged her belly as the constricted space gave her little room to coddle her fresh birthing injuries. They were released from the hospital yesterday. To an empty house, with no one in her life able to help them, or really take notice.

Her spirit sunk. She wished these men would go away, and she tried to stay calm and figure out what to do next. She strained her eyes adjusting to the murkiness and pressed a palm flat to the wall. Her fingers encircled a cool round gadget and she hoped it was a doorknob. She delicately twisted it and the hinges creaked forward.

After all these years, she held no interest in the passageway, never stepping a foot through the trap lid, let alone brave a walk in the dreary tunnel. All of her reservations of the unknown faded, as she flicked on the flashlight, and inaudibly closed the storm hatchway. With her bundled baby, she staggered through the passageway with a five- foot high clearance. The low ceiling caused her to maintain an uncomfortable slouched head beneath the dusty floorboards. Each step led away from the house, and with a deliberate pause, even the softest thud was avoided. The violent crashes faded as she neared the shed, and as quickly as she could, she stepped into the underground shelter, which was a small compact space. Claustrophobia was starting to take hold of her senses, and with relief she spotted a tiny door. Without hesitation she rushed over to it, carefully opened the latch, and stepped outside.

Oliver so new to the world, unaware of the danger they were in, contentedly snuggled against his mother’s breast. Soft coos purred from rounded cherub lips, as he drifted off to sleep with a small strand of long ash hair clutched in a tiny fist.

She took a mad dash to the nearest apple tree, and hid behind it. She squatted as close to the ground as she could, and watched anxiously as a convoy of 4x4 trucks drove away from the house. Lilly’s body vibrated and she gently kissed her baby’s brow with relief. The men were gone however, she took no comfort in this liberty. For the time being, she and Oliver were safe, this time they got away.

In a burst of panic, she dashed across the back field and fled through the back entrance of her home. Her feet instantly cemented to the floor as terror raced through her veins. She directed the flashlight to her feet and gasped, as everything she and John treasured was completely destroyed.

Absolutely stunned, she went right to work without hesitation, in bedroom slippers she cautiously toddled over broken glass, and tripped over debris. Damaged remnants of her life with John. Firmly she cuddled the most precious gift in her life, Oliver. Realizing these objects were material, replaceable, she pushed away any feelings of remorse. She was devoted to Oliver, and considered nothing in the world was more precious than her son.

She filled a free arm with what she could think of, as her eyes began to water. Oliver began to cough, and there was a scent of burning rubber. She draped the blanket over the baby’s face, and covered her mouth, as discreetly clouds of smoke puffed into the living room. Lilly looked around, alarmed, the air had a hazy fog, in horror she realized the men set the sunporch on fire. There wasn’t time to try to put it out, and she looked around with a heavy heart. This wasn’t home for them, not anymore.

She stumbled over jagged debris, lugging the baby, and a small bag. An incredible adrenaline pressed weary legs and she ignored the pains of weakened muscles, and raced to her car. She used every ounce of strength she had to withhold shrieks of terror, and released the blanket over Oliver’s face.

What luck she thought, that when she arrived home from the hospital she parked the car in an unusual spot, behind a thicket of roses. She supposed that she wanted people to think that she wasn’t home. She didn’t want company, even though she knew there would be none, no one who knew her would dare cross her mother-in-law to offer her a hand of kindness.

She carefully turned the key, and the car rumbled shaking roses as she threw the gears into reverse. She took the backfield being careful to keep the headlights off until they were safely out of sight. She drove through the blackness with their home which was quickly turning into an inferno mess in the rear view mirror. Her shoulders refluxed with each shattering echo as the fire hollowed out their home, and she was sure it soon would be reduced it to mere ashes.

She paid close attention to the thick bushes and suctioned cupped mud spots as she edged her car along. The last thing she needed was to get it stuck. The grassy path aligned with potholes that lifted and bumped the tires, however it only lasted a few moments as she turned onto the road which lead off the neighbor’s property.

Unyielding, her eyes locked forward, she flipped up the rear view mirror and clutched her teeth tightly released by the freedom of the road. Whimpers catapulted out of a traumatized Lilly, tears teemed down her cheeks and she stomped the accelerator. She reached her arm back to the back seat, toward Oliver, and lightly touched his baby toes.

She couldn’t tell her baby where they were going, but as his mamma she vowed to keep him safe. She trembled as tears blurred her vision of the road signs. Their trip had no destination so she supposed it didn’t matter where they landed by daylight. She prayed for a miracle, and pressed on down the highway.

Chapter One

Two years, she deliberated. After two long years of tacky city apartments, Lilly Conrad finally found a beautiful home for Oliver in Oracle City Arizona. She was feeling a bit nervous leaving Oliver with a sitter, her new landlady Suzie Quaker, but Suzie was a kindly lady and Oliver took to her straight away. Lilly felt that it was a blessing that Suzie decided to rent out her second home, at the same time that Lilly had chosen Oracle for her next haunt.

Lilly wondered if choosing her mother’s middle name Maris combined with her great grandmother’s maiden name Montague was suitable when she secretly changed her identity twenty-three months ago. It did have a ring to it she supposed, however, the art of changing ones’ name took practice. The lady who the world now knew as Maris Montague had learned to think long and hard before she spoke. She had to learn to listen, as there were a few instances where she’d stare blankly at someone who called out to Maris, which she covered over by explaining to people that she suffered from a marginal hearing loss as a child.

Maris Montague followed the directions given to her by her new boss Mr. Shaw, and parked round the back of Clydesdales Associates. She didn’t really know her way around Oracle City yet, and was lucky to find the quaint little truck stop on the outskirt of town when she attended her interview with him over brunch last Sunday. This was the third firm that she worked for since she decided that being in the legal grapevine would be the only way to find herself a bulldog. She sat in her car for a moment and looked down at her watch, it was 7:45. She made it through traffic a lot smoother than she estimated, and she wasn’t expected to report in until 9:00. She left early as she worried that she could take a wrong turn, get lost, be stuck in traffic, and now it was too early. No one would be there yet. She had a little time to kill, and wondered what to do next.

She thought about the diner called the Wentworth Café which she passed at the corner of Wentworth and Main Street before she pulled into the parking lot, and decided that a quick cup of coffee might be a good way to set her mind at ease. First impressions were the key, and she was far too distracted with all the fear and doubt clouding her mind this morning, and she wouldn’t be surprised if it showed on her face.

She walked inside the small diner, and picked up the newspaper and ordered a coffee. She skimmed over a few headings, and paused when she noticed an article with details of an at large serial killer. She fretted, there was a picture of a young girl and her parents highlighted in the article. She couldn’t imagine the horror that poor girl went through, and her heart went out to her parents. Her shoulders tensed as she searched for the reason that she bought the newspaper, and lifted her eyes slightly to see if anyone was paying attention to her, and there didn’t seem to be. She flipped a few pages, and stopped short.

And there it was. ‘Billionaire Mr. Randall Smyth Chair Founder of Smyth Industries, a large Chicago business tycoon was brilliantly dropped to his knees in yesterday’s hearing. Details of the trial were kept private, although sources say Mrs. Smyth’s legal representative, known as the Bulldog, smoothly handled Mr. Smyth’s team of lawyers. The mother was awarded sole custody of their three children, and the order was in favor of a 50% share out of their assets. April 04, 1999, Oracle Times, Copyright attributed to The Evening Edition of The Chicago Globe.

As she pulled out the scissors from her purse, and began cutting out the article, she thought, the one thing she liked about the Bulldog, was that most of his cases involved custody disputes, and he always fought for what was in the best interest of the children. She noticed that he took on large and small cases, and it wasn’t always against the rich and famous, but the majority of them were. He must be a modest winner, she thought, as she tried to find anything personal about him through the legal gossip rings in the offices where she worked, and always came up short. His firm was never mentioned, there was no address, and no phone number. No matter what avenue she tried, she was not able to locate even a photo of the mystery man.

She had heard the name Attorney Chase Mason, and that he had a notorious reputation for being brutal in court, he took no punches and used his wisdom against them. She wondered if he was the Bulldog, and she intended to find out. Unfortunately she didn’t have time to learn more. The bounty hunters were tipped off by a nosey neighbor who must have seen the wanted poster with a sketch of her face. She and Oliver had to flee in the night. She was on the run, and finally had to slow down by the time she hit Oracle City, and applied for this position. She and Oliver needed to take a breather and she needed to earn enough money to care for them to survive. And she needed to save what money she could, to pay the retainer for the Bulldog, if she could find him. She decided to settle here for a bit, and figure out her next move. In a nutshell, Chase Mason was her new obsession.

Maris was on her third cup of coffee and decided to gather up her things, and head over to the office, and report in for her first day of work. She pulled out her compact, and while she dabbed powder on her cheeks focusing on the tiny mirror, she was startled by the sight of an enormous figure of a man sitting at the far end of the café. He was watching her. Her heart leaped at the appreciation of his physique. She hoped her amusement didn’t show on her face. He filled the space behind the café table so thickly that he looked like a man sitting in a child’s seat. He had short raven hair and one small curl brushed close to his right brow. Maris sat thunderstruck. She wondered when he entered the café. And more importantly, why was he watching her? She gulped hard, and hoped that he hadn’t seen the police sketch of her face, on a wanted poster.

She couldn’t resist sporting a gaze over the tip of the compact and looked directly into his shades of his hazel eyes, hooded by dark, dark lashes, and thick dark brows. His eyes were bright, and he had brilliant white teeth when he smiled. She ducked behind her paper when he turned slightly in her direction, and nearly dropped her compact.

He captured her gaze with a striking masculinity, which gripped hold of her, as if he held an incredible power that could either release, or keep her forever at his will. He liberated her with a breach of silence. Don’t think I know you. he said, as he munched hungrily on a bagel. And I’m pretty sure I know everyone around here.

She couldn’t help noticing that he was the most magnificent looking man she had ever seen. She thought about ignoring him, and then she said. I don’t believe so.

Well I would have remembered you. He nodded enthusiastically.

Well, that’s not to say I would remember you. Maris’ said with a shrug of her shoulder and hurriedly got to her feet.

Are you finished with the paper? She detected a smile in his voice. He rested his chin on his palm with a bent elbow on the table, and focused on her. You seem to have the last copy of the day.

Maris clutched the paper tightly in her grip, and realized the clipped out hole might raise questions. Sorry, but I bought it, and no I am not finished. She answered quickly turning toward the door.

How ‘bout we share? He asked, and motioned to the empty seat beside him.

Share? She repeated. Sorry can’t. I have to run.

The raw masculinity of his voice was charming. A brilliant glow from his flawless smile, was enhanced by his walnut complexion, and his brows rose as he watched her with curiosity.

Before she said something she knew she’d regret, she shook her head no, and ventured out of the café and stepped onto the sidewalk. Guilt pained her insides, and she wondered how she could so easily be affected by another man. She’d been a widow for nearly two years, and during her time with John, she had never looked sideways on her dear husband. Her heartstrings weighed heavy. In frustration she stomped her foot firmly and had no self pity for the fact that it hurt her ankle. She deserved it for making an utter fool of herself. She must have appeared rude rushing out during an innocent conversation.

The clear blue sky suddenly seemed so infinite and beautiful and for a moment, she imagined the café man’s effervescent eyes. She dismissed the thought and deduced it to a fly by night infatuation. She felt a wave of embarrassment, and uncertainty, he was the first man she’d noticed since John. And it didn’t matter. Oliver took precedence over any man she’d met in a café. Besides, more than likely he was a married man, no man that attractive could be single, anyway. She approached the corner of Wentworth and Maine Street, and was happy to think that Clydesdale Associates wasn’t far away now. She restrained her wandering mind, and kept Chase Mason as top priority. In reality, he was the only man she desired to meet, and she couldn’t afford any distractions or mistakes.

Behind her was a voice. The deep masculine voice that reminded her of her favorite cowboy, Sam Elliot. He had the same baritoned voice that she found endearing. She had goose bumps flush over her arms, as the voice sounded directly behind her. She resisted all temptation to pretend that she was taking a carefree look over her shoulder. Her footsteps sped up, as she concentrated first on the sidewalk, and then on the buildings, determined to not glance sideways, no matter how tempting. Who ever it was that was walking behind her, was certainly popular, every person she passed was saying hello, to the man behind her. Maris was getting worried, she was starting to think that the man from the café was following her on purpose.

With a sigh of relief Maris finally made it to Clydesdale Associates. 1903 est. was carved, on a sign perched on the very highest level of the front of the building beneath the out print of a Clydesdale horse. It was amazing to think the firm’s been in business a long time. The office was of Early American architecture, and upon confirming directions with Suzie, she mentioned it was a courthouse back at the turn of the century. Oracle city was superbly designed with rustic American craftsmanship, it was charming, and inviting.

Regal pillars glistened in the morning sun, and the cobblestone steps were overhung with blossoming flowers dazzling the street. Stained glass windows outlined by creamy gingerbread trim, bleached shingles and gray eaves gave a homey feel to the old building, it seemed more appropriate to Maris for a bed and breakfast. She stood in awe, as all of the other firms in which she worked, were cold and sterile, this one was a charming change.

This quaint office seemed inviting as she pulled open the awkward and heavy front doors, and straight away she noticed it had a warm antique ambiance, which elegantly softened the firm’s image. Plaster 14-foot ceilings stunned Maris, as the images of roses in a mosaic design were breathtaking. She eagerly stepped upon the gleaming hardwood floor, which led to three small steps that stopped before an oak partial wall.

A man stood with a rested elbow on the ledge of the partition, in a discussion with the administrative assistant, immediately stood up straight acknowledging her presence. In her haste to get off the sidewalk, she bounced up the cobble stone steps, and her skirt had crept upward on her thighs. Maris stopped to smooth out her skirt, and within an instant she was thrown forward a few paces, as her bottom was bumped. Assuming the wind blew open the entrance, she sensibly attempted to close it with a little force from her backside, only to discover resistance. Something large was stopping her from shutting out the noise from the active down town morning rush.

--

The sharp clap of stocky palms startled Maris as his expression changed to a fantastic degree of delight. His short wide frame and balding hair complimented a cheerful smile, he seemed absolutely pumped, and stretched his short neck with a warm greeting, before she could say a word he subtly pushed past Maris.

Chase my boy, you finally returned from the battlefields, fancy you two walking in together. Mr. Shaw said, and reached for the man’s hand with a firm greeting. Then he backed up a step and smiled at her. Nice to see you again. Then his attention turned to the man. Chase Mason meet Maris Montague! Your new assistant! Mr. Shaw’s expression quickly changed, and he gave them both a peculiar look. Or have you two already met?

Maris felt like she was hit by a bolt of lightning. Met? The look crossing her face was ghastly. She looked down at her pointy shoes, at the ceiling, anywhere to avoid looking behind her. There was a new kind of fear drumming in her mind, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

Chase’s broad shoulders filled the threshold. He towered over Maris with a six foot two profile that intimidated her by his downcast shadow alone. She took note that his sable suit and leather shoes reflected on the shiny floors and his dark eyes had streaks of silver and were sharp and intelligent.

Maris drew an unexpected blank. She couldn’t remember her new name? She failed to remember to breathe. She placed a trembling hand upon her chest, which thumped like pounding drums. With her forehead tilted, Maris blasted past Chase Mason, continued to the side of the building, and braced against her car. Tightly she squeezed her fingers against her throbbing temples, and her chest heaved. She worried that this guilt ridden look on her face, just might have given away her secret. She couldn’t believe how quickly she lost all self control.

Are you alright? Chase questioned, not breaking a sweat as his jog effortlessly matched her pace.

Her heart raced wild and she dared not sneak a look. With butter stick legs and a harsh bite of her bottom lip, she turned to face the man she longed to meet. Her view was settled on him with a blank stare. Finally she was going to meet Chase Mason eye to eye. Striking misty eyes danced with a playful search of her hazel eyes. She couldn’t speak, breath. And she frowned. It was her luck. The man facing her, with curious eyes, and adorable dimples, Chase Mason, was also the man from the café. She twisted the tip of a pointy shoe nervously and thought, now what?

He seemed to detect her displeasure, and raised his arm with an awkward expression. Sorry about that, I didn’t see your um, well you know bottom was in the way. Chase shrugged a shoulder, and she could have sworn she detected he was struggling to keep a straight face.

She puzzled for a moment, and realized he hit her with the door when she was bent over and her heart skipped a beat. It’s okay, really, my bottom has been through worse. She couldn’t believe she just said that. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I am always fixing my skirts, and I guess I should.

Watch out where you point that thing, or it could get you into trouble? He finished her sentence for her, as if the comment was innocent. She crinkled her nose, and knew better.

Mr. Shaw rounded the corner out of puff, and confused by the commotion. He placed his fingers on a his waist, cleared his throat, and demanded attention.

Chase’s ebony brows lifted with the little dimple in his chin catching her eye. We have not officially met. He said with composedness, and reached a hand toward Maris in a gesture for a shake. I’ve been trying to make your acquaintance since I saw you at the Wentworth Café not five minutes ago. With a quick grin, he faced Mr. Shaw and continued. Mind you, she is fast on her feet, it will come in handy for all the running I intend to make her do. On the outside Chase Mason looked like a serious and stiff kind of man, but his personality was bright and breezy. Even though he was annoying her, she couldn’t help but be slightly amused. With a hand still held out to her, he didn’t miss a beat and said, honored to meet you Miss Montague, I’m Chase Mason Attorney at Law.

Maris

Reviews for Power of Love

[BookWormy · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This was a page turner, lots of action and different things going on. She was being chased by bounty hunters, and needed help but she was a strong independent woman and he had a hard time trying to be her hero. He had to gain her trust first. I loved the ending, it was heartwarming. Thanks Willow for the great read.

[mum26 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Don't let the cover fool you, it's a great read. I have passed over this book because of the poorly done cover, but finally ran out of other books to read so gave in and read it! What a great book. A hero and a strong heroine! Just the perfect mix. Not a lot of 'loving' , so it's a book most could enjoy.