Caught for Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

much.
    Blue barely spares me a glance. “Do you want me to stick around?”
    West laughs. “Like the old days? You always did like to watch.”
    “Not anymore. Not since Hannah. Speaking of which, she’d kick my ass if she found out I let you do this. She’d kick your ass too.”
    “I don’t doubt it,” West says, but he doesn’t sound concerned. “Give her my best.”
    “Will do.”
    Then Blue hands something over to West—a big white paper bag—and turns to leave. Just like any ordinary day, they’re nodding their goodbyes and turning away. As if I’m not tied up here.
    “No, wait. Don’t leave me here.” I’m desperate enough to press any advantage. “Hannah would hate this. It isn’t right. She’ll find out and she’ll—”
    Blue just shakes his head, waving away my plea. “Don’t look at me. I wanted to do a lot worse than he’s planning.”
    That shuts me up quick. Then he’s gone up the stairs, leaving me alone with West and whatever he’s got in that white paper bag.

Chapter Eight
    H e sets the bag down on the desk with a small but solid thud. It has weight, whatever is inside. I’ve seen a lot in eighteen years, and my mind can imagine horrible things.
    Whips, chains.
    Chemicals to wipe away any trace of blood.
    What can I say? My parents know some unsavory people.
    But when he cracks open the bag, just a smidge, I know it’s something else entirely. It doesn’t smell like ammonia or chlorine. It smells like garlic and onions and butter. The inside of the bag is lined with foil—I can see that from here. That must be how it kept those delicious smells inside. Now that he’s opened the top, the savory scent of fresh bread and melted cheese fill the basement.
    My mouth waters. Is this how he’s going to break me down? I have visions of him eating in front of me, bite after bite, never letting me have a taste. Torture. “What are you going to do with that?”
    He looks amused now. “You are the least trusting person I know.” His smile fades. “There’s probably a good reason for that.”
    My stomach grumbles. Loudly. I can’t help but blush. It’s embarrassing to be in this position—tied up and so obviously starving. “Maybe I would be more trusting if you told me what you planned to do with me.”
    He turns to rifle through the bag, taking out black plastic containers and foil-wrapped packages. There are utensils and a couple bottles of water. It’s like a romantic picnic—except I’m tied up and he’s holding my life in his hands.
    “I was thinking you could eat,” he says. “To begin with. You look like a stiff wind could knock you over. There’s only so long instant noodles can hold a person up.”
    “How do you know what I’ve been eating?” I stiffen in the soft leather chair, suspicious. “Have you been in my apartment?”
    He raises one eyebrow. “Jesus, woman. It was an exaggeration. At least I thought it was. If I’d known you were living on instant noodles, I probably would have been in your apartment, doing this before now.”
    Great, so I’m actually a cliché of a hungry person. “You know that’s still breaking and entering, right? Even if you’re only doing it to bring me food.”
    “You’re really going to talk to me about breaking and entering?”
    Fair point. “Well, I wouldn’t have appreciated it then, and I don’t appreciate it now.”
    He smiles, a little mischievous and somehow shy. “That’s because you haven’t tasted this vodka cream sauce. I have a feeling you’ll be singing a whole different tune then.”
    My stomach clenches hard at the thought, and I’m afraid he might be right. I’m so hungry, both for food and for someone who gives a damn. He’s standing in front of me, offering them both.
    It’s just a mirage though. When I drag myself through the sand to get to him, I’ll find he was never really there. What future can there be for us? At some point he’ll have to turn me in. He can’t let me break in and