The Heart Has Reasons Read Online Free PDF

to conceal himself in the sewing-room closet before she arrived
home, but that was now out of the question.  The ex-boyfriend sat in his
vehicle and glared at the house, which precluded him from exiting through the
back door.  Wondering what else could possibly go wrong, he pulled on the
ski mask.
    * * * * *
    As Larissa headed down the hallway toward
her bedroom, the 9mm still clutched in one hand, a peculiar sensation prickled
the back of her neck, as if a ghost had clasped a chilly hand to her
nape.  Something, perhaps some subtle scent, aroused an intuitive sense
that, once again, someone had violated the sanctity of her home and two years’
worth of stored fear exploded in her chest like a burst balloon.
    Was
Sparrow back?
    No,
surely not.  The confrontation with Steve had simply rattled her. 
But if that’s all it were, then why was she so certain that someone had been in
her house?  Had Steve hurried around to the back door to beat her
inside?  Was he in here now, hoping to catch her unawares?
    Although
he’d turned out to be a bit of a stalker, he’d never given her the impression
that he might be dangerous.  However, if he’d broken into her house, that
cast a different light on matters.  With her heart thumping inside her
chest, she peered out the bedroom window.   Face still flushed with anger,
he sat in his truck, gripping the steering wheel.  Spotting her at the
window, he saluted her with a raised middle finger before driving off.
    Blowing
out a sigh of relief, she headed to the kitchen.  Still locked, the back
door bore no sign of forced entry.  Nevertheless, she still had the
unsettling feeling that someone had encroached upon her personal space. 
Crap.  Steve’s unexpected appearance had made her more paranoid than
usual.
    That
was okay, though, because paranoia kept her awareness sharp, and Brian Sparrow
was still out there somewhere.  Paranoia had saved her life once
before.  If Sparrow ever returned, it might save her a second time.
    She
gazed at the phone on the counter.  If she called 9-1-1, what would she
say to the operator?  That she had a weird feeling someone had been in her
house, despite the lack of any evidence to corroborate that assertion? 
She’d look like a fool, which she definitely wasn’t.  She was a
self-sufficient woman who could search her own house.
    Still
clutching the Browning, she thumbed off the safety and started down the hallway
to check for intruders.
    * * * * *
    Chase stood motionless against the
sunroom’s sole interior wall.  He suspected the house’s designer had
intended it to be the dining room but, as evidenced by the assortment of
exercise equipment, his target utilized it more as a workout room.
    Hearing
movement in the hallway, he peeked around the doorframe just in time to see her
disappear into the bedroom, the 9mm held leveled before her.  It appeared
she was going to search the fucking house.
    While
she went through the bedroom, sewing room, and bathroom, he weighed his
options.  Worst-case scenario — assuming she didn’t pump him full of lead
— was that he’d have to disarm and subdue her physically.  Judging by the
way she’d stood up to the ex-boyfriend, she’d probably put up a struggle, and
he didn’t want to chance inadvertently hurting her.
    Concealed
beside the doorway, he listened as she paused to check the hall closet before
continuing down the hall toward him.  As she came through the front room,
he edged into the kitchen, hugging the wall where the floorboards were less
likely to squeak.  Pacing himself so that a wall always separated them, he
circled through the kitchen into the hallway, into the front room as she moved
into the kitchen, and then back into the sunroom.  Hearing her moving away
from him, he peeked around the doorframe to see her reenter her bedroom, weapon
now lowered to her side.
    When
he heard the shower come on, he knew he’d finally caught a break. 
Hurrying down the hallway, he paused