Читать книгу Stranger In His Arms - Charlotte Douglas - Страница 11

Slinging her hastily filled backpack over her shoulder, she raced toward the front door, but skidded to a stop before she reached it. A huge figure on the porch was silhouetted against the etched glass.

He had come for her.

Pivoting on her heel, she sprinted to the rear of the house, eased out the back door noiselessly and ran across the yard. Just as she was clambering up the fence to gain access to the alley, the neighbor’s dog howled.

Running footsteps thundered behind her, and as she hoisted herself over the fence top, a hand snagged her ankle. With a fierce kick that contacted with flesh and bone, eliciting a curse from her pursuer, she freed herself and dropped into the alleyway.

Without a backward look, she kicked up dust racing toward the main street, clogged with going-to-work traffic. As she reached the curb, a bus approached.

There is a God, she thought and breathed a prayer of thanks.

The bus slowed and stopped, and she hopped on. The doors closed behind her, and the bus picked up speed.

Only then did she dare risk a look behind.

He stood on the curb for an instant, glowering with rage. Then he turned and sprinted toward his car, parked in front of her house. Her only hope was to exit the bus without him catching her.

And if she could pull that off, she needed to disappear.

Permanently.