Home for Christmas: New Adult Holiday Dark Suspense Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

can take the bus.” She couldn’t. She didn’t have the money. But he didn’t need to know that. “I just... don’t have a ticket yet...”
    “Ah, what the hell. I’m not doing anything for the rest of my life. Let’s take a road trip, Virginia.”
    “Really?” She brightened. “That would be great. Really great!”
    “So you said. I have to use the facilities.” Mr. Spencer got up slowly. “Be grateful you’ll never have a prostate problem, Virginia.”
    “Okay.” She tried to suppress a smile and couldn’t. “Actually, I should go too.”
    She had just started to slide out of the booth when she felt something prickle at the back of her neck. A warning. But what? Mr. Spencer was harmless—she was sure of that. 
    “Want to meet me at my car?” The old man stood too, nodding across the street. It was after five now and the bank lot was empty. They’d all gone home for the day. “It’s the white Sable.”
    “Sure,” she agreed, her voice sounding faint, even to her own ears.
    She couldn’t shake that feeling as she stood and glanced around the coffee shop. She didn’t recognize anyone, although most of the tables and booths were filled. Mr. Spencer had already disappeared into the men’s room.
    That’s when she felt him watching her. It wasn’t so much seeing him as just knowing, a kind of extrasensory jolt. Her gaze lifted to see Brody staring at her through the frosted glass window. She bolted from the booth and straight-armed the door, heading in the opposite direction from Brody, trying not to run and attract attention to her flight. When she glanced behind her, she saw his wiry frame threading through the crowd of Christmas shoppers, his uniform parting the tide.
    He caught her in the alleyway and she realized her mistake the moment his hand found her neck and pressed her, face first, hard against the brick. There was no one back here, no bright lights, no warm bodies—no watching eyes. It was cold, dark, and they were completely alone.
    “Did you think you could run from me?” Brody’s breath reeked of alcohol, even though he was wearing his uniform, and Ginny turned her head, struggling. “Did you really think you could hide?”
    She couldn’t answer. His hand at her throat made it impossible. He wasn’t a big man, but he was tall and sinewy, and surprisingly strong. His voice turned smooth as he took his hand from her throat, twisting her arm up behind her, his weight pressing her into the wall.
    “I told you, girl.” His voice was like slick oil against her ear. “You can’t ever hide from me. I own the system. Don’t forget it. You’re a number that shows up wherever you go. I’ve got eyes everywhere. You rent a motel room, you’re mine. You use a credit card, you’re mine. Put your name on a lease, you’re mine. You get a paycheck, you’re mine. Do you understand me? You. Are. Mine.”
    Ginny gave in to her fear—no matter what she did, no matter where she ran, he would track her down. She nearly gasped out loud at her own realization. Hot tears stung her eyes and she looked away, down the alley, hoping to see someone, anyone. There was nothing but darkness. She cursed her hunger, the driving need that had allowed her to accept Mr. Spencer’s invitation to the little café when Brody just happened to be passing by.
    He felt her relenting and let up a little, taking the opportunity to ask conversationally, “So where is it, Gin? Just give it to me and we’ll be done. I promise you.”
    “Why didn’t you find me weeks ago?” she taunted. She felt him startle, could almost hear the frown when he grunted and tightened his grip. “If you’re so smart, so connected ...”
    “Shut up!” he growled, making her wince when he shoved his knee between hers, pressing her belly into the wall.
    “I don’t have it with me,” she lied flatly, aching to hide or ditch her bag somewhere, using all of her force of will to keep still and let its weight dangle from her