Can She Get Home for Christmas Read online

  “How?”

  “Through the door,” a man’s voice answered from outside.

  Jax glanced toward Sam. The gun was still in her hand. “Don’t shoot. They’re friends,” he said.

  She lowered her weapon, and as he watched, the door was wrenched most of the way open to reveal three Decorah men—Jonah Raider, Cole Marshall, and Steve Outlaw.

  Jax stared at them. “How did you get here?”

  “Four-wheel drive. We figured when we didn’t hear from you that you might need some help,” Cole answered

  “Appreciated,” Jax said.

  Jonah turned toward Sam. “That’s your car a few miles back?”

  She stood up straighter. “Yes. Thank you for coming.”

  “Looks like we missed the good part,” Steve said.

  “I’ll give you a full report later,” Jax answered. “Did you find my SUV on that side road a mile from here?”

  “Yeah. With a bunch of bullet holes.” Cole pulled the door back on its hinges.

  Sam and Jax stepped out into the snowy night.

  “This is Samantha Donovan,” Jax said. “The woman I was worried about. But I didn’t know her name until we talked.”

  “Glad Jax found you in time,” Jonah said. He, Cole, and Steve all introduced themselves.

  “What happened?” Jonah asked.

  “The killer tried to snatch her after her car went off the road. I couldn’t shoot at him because he had hold of Sam, so I tried to ram his car. That’s when he started shooting. Then he cut his losses and hightailed it.”

  “He had an SUV with a metal ring in the back,” Sam added.

  “We saw it,” Cole said, his voice gritty. He looked at Sam. “Where were you going in this storm?”

  “Home for Christmas.”

  From down the tunnel, they all heard a low moan and turned toward the sound.

  “He must be alive under all that stuff,” Sam gasped.

  Steve stepped inside and shined a light on the mess of timbers.

  “He’s under there?”

  Jax made a rough sound. “Caught in his own trap.”

  Steve turned back to the group. “Jonah and I can get him out of there and find out what shape he’s in, and Cole can drive you home.”

  “Shouldn’t we stay?” Jax asked.

  Steve shook his head. “No, you go on. You’re due for a break. Let’s hope he’s coherent enough to talk to the cops and tell them where the victims are buried.” He looked at Sam. “Maybe I should have kept my big mouth shut about that.”

  She shuddered. “That’s okay. Jax said he’d been operating around here.” She dragged in a breath and let it out. “He told me his name is James Patton. Only he likes to call himself James Patterson, like the author.”

  “Why?”

  “He copies some of the author’s suspense-novel ideas.”

  Steve whistled through his teeth. “Nice.”

  Jax put his hand on her arm. “Let’s get going while the getting’s good.”

  After the three men were out of earshot, Sam asked, “Will you come home with me?”

  Jax went very still. “You want me to?”

  “Yes. I want you to meet my family and stay over for Christmas.” She stopped and swallowed. “That is, if you want to.”

  He had longed for that kind of connection with her. He had wanted it more than anything else he could imagine, but he forced himself to say, “Won’t I be intruding?”

  “Of course not.” Her cheeks flushed. “They’ll love that I brought a guy with me.”

  His heart was bursting with all the things he wanted to say to her. But he still felt uncertain, hoping her invitation wasn’t simply being polite to the guy who had rescued her. He saw her glance toward the backs of his friends.

  “I don’t want to tell my parents how we met—not yet, anyway.”

  “Probably a good idea. But you don’t have the food you were bringing.”

  She put her hand against her mouth. “Oh, that’s right.”

  “Maybe we have to say we had a little accident and had to leave some stuff.”

  “Yes. Okay.” She hesitated again, then barreled ahead, “But I want them to think we’re in a relationship.” As soon as she said it, she flushed. “Sorry. That’s pretty forward.”

  “No. I like it.” At least he could say that much.

  She looked like a small war was going on inside her head. “Maybe we should, you know, practice being . . . more than friends.”

  He caught her meaning when she leaned in and lifted her face toward his. He accepted the invitation, bringing his mouth down to hers. She tasted wonderful, just as he’d imagined she would.

  She moved her lips against his, and he gathered her to him, craving more, a lot more. Reaching between them, he unzipped both their coats, then pulled her body against his. There were still layers of clothing between them, but this was a lot more intimate than with the heavy outerwear in the way.

  He wanted her. He’d wanted her almost since he’d met her in his dream- like state. But he wasn’t going to push her into anything, not when so much was riding on this new reality.

  Still, he couldn’t stop himself from hugging her tightly. He was so thankful she was safe. Now he wanted to hold her forever, but they couldn’t stay here. She must have come to the same realization. She eased back, but she didn’t break the connection.

  Her face broke into a grin. “Tonight didn’t start off too well, but I think this is going to be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

  “I think I can make it even better,” he said in a husky voice.

  “How?”

  “With something that came to me when I was in that trance, right at the end, but after that I was too busy to tell you about it. Your mom’s going to be okay.”

  She stared at him with hope in her eyes “How do you know?”

  “I can’t explain how, but I just do. And I would never say it unless I were sure.”

  “Oh Jax,” she murmured, tears welling in her eyes. “That’s the most wonderful present you could have given me. Thank you so much.”

  “I could see how worried you were. I wanted you to know.”

  She leaned against him, and he slung an arm around her.

  He’d fallen in love with Samantha while he’d tried to figure out who she was and how he could save her, and at the same time he’d been afraid the two of them could never have a real relationship. Now he understood that, as bad as the past few hours had been, they were the start of something wonderful.

  “You two coming?” Cole called.

  “Yes.” He reached for Sam’s hand as they walked toward the car—toward the future he’d never thought he could have with her.

  THE END

  A WORD FROM THE AUTHOR

  Thank you for purchasing Can She Get Home for Christmas?. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.

  If you enjoy my books, please leave an honest review. Authors live and die by their reviews. The few extra seconds it takes are really appreciated. Thank you!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A New York Times and USA Today Best-Selling Author, Rebecca York is a 2011 recipient of the Romance Writers of America Centennial Award. Her career has focused on romantic suspense, often with paranormal elements.

  Her 16 Berkley books and novellas include her nine-book werewolf “Moon” series. KILLING MOON was a launch book for the Berkley Sensation imprint. She has written for Harlequin, Berkley, Dell, Tor, Carina Press, Silhouette, Kensington, Running Press, Tudor, Pageant Books, and Scholastic.

  Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. And her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series.

  Many of her novels have been nominated for or won RT Reviewers Choice awards. In addition, she has won a Prism Award, several New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf award
s and numerous other awards, and she is on the Romance Writers of America Honor Roll.

  CONTACTS

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  COPYRIGHT

  Published by Light Street Press

  Copyright © 2018 by Ruth Glick

  Cover design by Earthly Charms

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.