Can She Get Home for Christmas Read online

  Can She Get Home for Christmas?

  (Decorah Security Series, Book #18)

  A Paranormal Romantic Suspense Novella

  REBECCA YORK

  Ruth Glick writing as Rebecca York

  CONTENTS

  DECORAH SECURITY SERIES

  OFF WORLD SERIES

  PRAISE AND AWARDS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CONTACTS

  COPYRIGHT

  ALL BOOKS by Rebecca York

  If you enjoy Can You Get Home for Christmas?, you might also like to read other Light Street Press books by Rebecca York:

  DECORAH SECURITY SERIES

  Book 1. On Edge (a Decorah Security prequel novella)

  Book 2. Dark Moon (a novel)

  Book 3. Chained (a novella)

  Book 4. Ambushed (a short story)

  Book 5. Dark Powers (a novel)

  Book 6. Hot and Dangerous (a short story)

  Book 7. At Risk (a novel)

  Book 8. Christmas Captive (a novella)

  Book 9. Destination Wedding (a novella)

  Book 10. Rx Missing (a novel)

  Book 11. Hunting Moon (a novel)

  Book 12 Terror Mansion (a novella)

  Book 13. Outlaw Justice (a novella)

  Book 14. Found Missing (a novel)

  Book 15. Preying Game (a novel)

  Book 16. Boxed In (a novel)

  Book 17. Hollow Moon (a novella)

  Decorah Security Collection (an anthology including Ambushed, Hot and Dangerous, Chained, and Dark Powers)

  And if you like science-fiction romance, you might enjoy the following Rebecca York books:

  OFF WORLD SERIES

  Book 1. Hero's Welcome (an off-world series short story)

  Book 2. Nightfall (an off-world series novella)

  Book 3. Conquest (an off-world series short story)

  Book 4. Assignment Danger (an off-world novella)

  Book 5. Christmas Home (an off-world short story)

  Book 6. Firelight Confession (an off-world novella)

  Off-World Collection (includes Nightfall, Hero’s Welcome, and Conquest)

  PRAISE AND AWARDS

  New York Times and USA Today best-selling Author

  Two-time Rita finalist in the prestigious RWA writing contest

  Recipient of two RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Awards

  Recipient of the RWA Centennial Award

  Prism Award winner

  Affaire de Coeur Critics Choice Award for Contemporary Novel

  “Rebecca York delivers page-turning suspense.” ~Nora Roberts

  “Rebecca York will thrill you with romance, kill you with danger and chill you with the supernatural.” ~Patricia Rosemoor

  “Rebecca York’s writing is fast-paced, suspenseful, and loaded with tension.”

  ~Jayne Ann Krentz

  Chapter 1

  Samantha Donovan held the steering wheel of her little Ford in a death grip as swirling snow thickened around her. She was on a two-lane country road, plowing through a dangerous storm when she should have given in to reality and stayed home. And she didn’t know that the weather wasn’t the worst of her problems.

  Tomorrow was going to be a white Christmas—the ideal portrayed in songs and holiday movies. This year she’d been praying the snow would hold off.

  All morning she’d kept checking the weather report as she was working in her tiny kitchen, cooking for the big meal. You weren’t supposed to start with dessert, but she’d made the chocolate chip cookies first because they’d always been a family favorite.

  The Donovan women had pretended everything was normal when Sam, her sister Helen, and Mom had discussed the menu a few days ago. They’d laughed about the way nobody wanted to eat salad or vegetables at a holiday dinner. Sam suggested a broccoli, ham and cheese salad which had enough fattening ingredients to overwhelm the broccoli. After making it, she’d started on the twice-baked potatoes her younger brother Kevin loved. By the time she’d finished the cranberry mold, it had been snowing for a couple of hours.

  When the phone rang around twelve thirty, she saw from the caller ID that it was Mom. Knowing she was going to tell Sam not to make the three-hour trip from Washington, DC, to Western Maryland, she’d pretended she’d already left. The presents and her duffel were in her Ford Focus. All she had to do was put the canvas bags with the food into the car.

  Now here she was, only a half hour from her destination, her knuckles bloodless as she slowed her speed to keep from skidding on the icy road.

  “Where is a snowplow when you need one?” she muttered. Guys from the county should be out doing their job. But in this rural area, the only vehicles she saw were four-wheel drive SUVs—and not many of them.

  She kept heading toward the big old Victorian where she’d grown up. She knew everybody else was already there. Helen and her husband, Pete. Kevin and his new girlfriend. And of course Mom and Dad. Her heart squeezed when she thought about her parents. She’d taken them for granted for a long time. No more.

  She smiled as she pictured the welcome that awaited her. A huge fir tree would be standing by the bay window, decorated with homemade ornaments and tiny white lights. It would be the first thing she’d see as she came up the drive. And when she opened the door, Christmas music would ripple out. She kept that vision of warmth and comfort in her mind as she plowed ahead, telling herself that, if the snow would just let up a little, she’d have no problem getting home. But the lacy flakes only got thicker, making it hard for her to see where the road stopped and the shoulder began, even with the windshield wipers on full speed. When her right front wheel left the pavement, she couldn’t yank her car back onto the blacktop. Her heart leaped into her throat as the vehicle skidded completely off the rural highway. Gravel crunched under her wheels as she desperately pumped the brake, but the car kept moving forward of its own accord. Even as she frantically kept trying to save herself, the Ford slid down a hill, gliding sideways into the woods. It seemed like she skidded along forever, although in reality she knew she hadn’t traveled far when the right front fender landed with a clunk against a tree trunk.

  The impact rattled her teeth. And she sat for long moments, with her pulse pounding. Gingerly, she moved her arms and legs, relieved to find they were in working order. Plus she hadn’t hit her head or anything major—thanks to the seat belt holding her in place. But she fought a feeling of disorientation as she tried to catch her breath and think rationally.

  When she looked back up the hill, she could barely see the road through the sheeting snow. And from the angle of the car, it was clear that only a tow truck could get her out of this. But if she called the house, Kevin would come out here and get her. He’d be mad that she’d tried to make this trip in the snow. And now she was feeling ashamed of herself. She’d wanted to be with her family so badly that she’d taken a stupid chance.

  Her purse had fallen onto the floor in front of the passenger seat. She managed to lean forward and retrieve it, then fumbled for her cell phone. But when she tried to reach the house, the call didn’t go through.

  Damn. Reception in this area was never great, and now it was worse than usual. Unless she could somehow get through, her little brother wasn’t coming to rescue her.

  She’d held herself together so far, but when the automated message told her there was no reception, she felt tears stinging the backs of her eyes. Teeth gritted, she willed herself not to break down. Crying wasn’t going to help anything.
She’d just have to hope some driver would come along.

  After shutting off the engine, she looked in the back seat and checked the pile of stuff she was bringing with her. Could she get anything—maybe the cookies—up to the road? Probably that was a dumb idea.

  Leaving everything in the car, she slung her purse strap over her shoulder and stepped into the storm. Though she was dressed in a warm coat and wool cap, a blast of cold air hit her like a slap. She might have retreated into the car again, but that wasn’t going to help anything. She was too far down the hill for anyone to see her through the swirling flakes.

  Instead, she stiffened her legs and turned to face the road just as headlight beams cut through the flakes.

  As the lights grew closer, she waved her arms wildly, shouting, “Help, help.” But in her hurry to get farther up the hill, she slipped on the incline, landing face down in the snow. Managing to stand, she brushed herself off and started upward again, her teeth chattering.

  At first, she wasn’t sure the driver saw her. But to her vast relief, the vehicle did slow to a stop at the spot where she’d gone off the road. Whoever it was knew someone was in trouble. They could give her a ride home, and maybe they’d even be willing to help her get the food, presents and her duffel to Mom and Dad’s.

  As she waded forward through calf-deep drifts, she slipped again, going down once more and cursing under her breath as she struggled to right herself.

  “Take it easy,” a voice called out. “I’ll get you.”

  “Thanks,” she managed to say as she looked up toward the road.

  The voice came from a man standing on the shoulder beside an SUV. He came down toward her. His boots slipping a little.

  “A bad night to be driving,” he said as he reached her side and grasped her arm to help her up.

  “Yes. Thanks.”

  He was wearing a heavy wool jacket with a hood, and at this angle she couldn’t see much of his features—just thin lips and dark stubble on his chin. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “I’m going to my parents’ house for Christmas. I didn’t know the snow would pile up so fast.”

  “Christmas, right. They live close?”

  “About a half hour away.”

  “That’s good. It won’t be no bother to give you a lift. My name’s James Patton. What’s yours?”

  “Samantha Donovan.”

  “Irish, huh?”

  “Yes. I’d be really grateful for a ride. You’re right. I shouldn’t be out here. But I didn’t want to miss Christmas with the folks. Everybody’s there. My sister and brother and his new girlfriend. Plus my parents.” She knew she was blathering now. He didn’t care about her holiday plans. She dragged in a breath and let it out, wondering how much she could ask of this man. But he’d stopped to help a stranded motorist. Maybe he’d go the extra mile. “Would it be too much of an imposition to take the stuff I’m bringing?”

  He hesitated for a moment.

  “Everything’s right in the back seat.”

  When she saw his uncertain look, she added, “But we don’t have to bring it all. Maybe we can leave the presents. I can put them in the trunk so nobody can see them.”

  “Sure. I can do that. Why don’t you get in my car, and I’ll go down there.”

  “I have to lock up.”

  “I can do that, too. Give me your keys.”

  He was being super helpful now, yet there was something in the tone of his voice that set her nerves tingling.

  “I’ll wait out here,” she said as she stood shivering in the cold and snow.

  “I said get in the car,” he ordered, his voice sharpening.

  In the space of a second, she knew she was in bad trouble. She backed away, her heart slamming against the inside of her chest. She couldn’t outrun this guy. But maybe she could make it back to her car and lock herself in. She was still grasping at that slim chance when he reached under his coat and pulled out a gun, aiming it at the center of her chest.

  “Get in the car, I said. In the back.”

  She flicked a glance inside. There was no back seat, only a flattened cargo area, and on the surface she saw a large metal ring—like the kind used to tie down cargo.

  Chapter 2

  Sam fought a wave of cold terror as she stared at the weapon

  “Don’t . . .” she gasped out.

  He laughed. “About my name. I like Patterson better than Patton. Yeah, James Patterson.”

  The comment made no sense. “What?”

  “You ever read his Kiss the Girls? That’s a favorite of mine. I got a lot of great ideas from that book. Get in the car,” he said, his voice easy and confident now that he’d seen her fear.

  His hood had fallen back, revealing a square face and shaggy dark hair. She stared into his hard eyes, the color of flint, and the book he’d mentioned came slamming into her mind. The story was about a man who kidnapped women and held them captive. He made them bend to his will, then killed them when he got tired of them. If she got in that SUV, she was a dead woman, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be an easy passing. She’d rather turn and run and take her chances in the woods. Of course, he could quickly fell her with a bullet in the leg, and then he’d still have her where he wanted her.

  She was trying to decide what to do when the twin beams of headlights cut through the white curtain falling around them.

  From where they stood on the shoulder of the road, Patton looked toward the oncoming vehicle. “Hurry up. Get in.”

  “Maybe you’d better get out of here while you still can,” she countered, forcing as much bravado as she could into her voice.

  The man answered in a silky tone. “No, I think I’ll wait here and shoot whoever gets out of that car.”

  Lord, no. Was she going to get an innocent bystander killed—before this Patton guy bundled her off to a mountain cave or an abandoned house?

  The vehicle that pulled onto the shoulder was another SUV. Sam kept her eyes glued to the windshield, trying to see who was in there, but the interior was too dark to make out anyone. The wipers cut off, and she waited long seconds for the driver to get out. When the door opened, the light did not go on. But a tall figure emerged, and Sam felt her insides clench.

  It looked like a man wearing a parka. He was hatless, and in the snow and gathering gloom, she saw dark hair but not much else. He stood behind his open door, peering at them through the swirl of flakes. “You got car trouble? Need some help?” he called out from beside his vehicle.

  “No, we’re fine,” Patton responded.

  The newcomer hesitated, as though he sensed that the answer wasn’t sincere.

  Sam was ready for Patton to make his move. When she saw his arm jerk, she screamed, “Watch out.” Slinging her purse off her shoulder, she lashed out at the man beside her, striking him in the head.

  “Bitch,” he shouted, as he fired his gun, getting off a couple of shots in the direction of the other vehicle.

  Sam tried to throw herself down the hill where she’d gone off the road, but Patton grabbed her by the collar of her coat and kept her from escaping.

  The stranger ducked low behind his open door. Then he was back inside, driving toward them. Patton hung on to Sam. Although she tried to dig her boots into the gravel of the shoulder, he dragged her along as he made for his vehicle.

  He threw the back door open and tried to shove her inside, but sheer panic gave her strength. Reaching for the post beside the door, she wrapped her gloved hands around it and held on with a death grip.

  As Patton shoved at her, she kicked backwards, pounding at his legs with her boots.

  “Damn you,” he shouted, making one more try to get her into the SUV, but she kept her grip on the car’s exterior. With a curse, he shoved her aside and turned to the other car, shooting a volley of bullets that hit the windshield and the car’s body. Still the car kept coming, and Patton must have decided to cut his losses. She had already leaped away, hitting the ground an
d rolling partway down the hill. Patton gave her a furious look, but she was too far away for him to come after her and also make his escape. He leaped into the front seat, started his engine and roared off into the blizzard.

  Sam lay on the ground, dazed and shaken, watching the vehicle’s taillights recede. But when she heard footsteps crunching across the gravel toward her, she struggled to sit up.

  “Are you okay?” a deep voice asked.

  “Mostly,” she answered. At least she was only a little banged up from the car crash. And she was still out here in the blizzard instead of in that monster’s car.

  To prove she was fine, she struggled to her feet and almost fell over. The man who’d chased away the killer plowed down the hill toward her. She gazed up into dark eyes, and a face reddened by the cold. His gaze was as intense as Patton’s, but it held an entirely different quality. There was a clean masculinity about him. He looked like a guy who did an honest day’s work—as a carpenter or maybe a lumberjack. That last fanciful observation almost had her laughing at herself.

  “Do I know you?” she asked in a trembling voice because she couldn’t shake a sense of familiarity.

  “No,” he answered quickly.

  “But I feel like I do. Or you know me.”

  He answered with an indrawn breath.

  Maybe her brain was finally cracking under the strain of the past half hour—sliding off the road, almost being scooped up by a man who was certainly planning to kill her.

  When she swayed on her feet, the hero of the evening caught her in his arms, and pulled her close, steadying her. Closing her eyes, she clung to him, reassured by his strength and his solid body. He stroked his hands over her back and shoulders.

  “You’re safe now.”

  From murder. But she didn’t feel entirely safe on a deep personal level. Patton had pretended that he was going to rescue her. She couldn’t let go of the feeling that this man was pretending something, too.