A Cowboy for Christmas
Автор
Stella Bagwell
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Prologue
Lucinda Lambert stared cautiously at the brightly wrapped package on her coffee table. It was long and slender in shape, the paper printed with Santa Clauses and reindeer. She’d found it on the back steps of her apartment when she’d arrived home from work. That was enough to alarm her. No one had access to the inner courtyard of her apartment building, except the other tenants. Could she be that lucky? Was it possible the gift had merely come from a neighbor?
Seeing no other way of finding out, Lucinda reached for the small card that was slipped beneath the red ribbon. Her fingers shook as she opened the envelope, then everything inside her went cold and still as she read, “Merry Christmas, my darling Lucinda. All my love, Richard.”
Fear clutched her heart, drained the blood from her face and left her hands clammy. It had been almost a week since her telephone had rung in the middle of the night, or an unmarked police car had followed her home from work. The small reprieve had led her to hope this horrible nightmare was going to end, that Richard was finally going to come to his senses and realize she was never going to love him, much less marry him.
Lucinda could see now that she’d been crazy to hope. Christmas was little more than a week away, but obviously Richard wasn’t going to use the holidays to spread cheer and goodwill. No, she thought sickly as she glanced once again at the wrapped package, he was going to use Christmas to spread his own special brand of evilness.
As if on cue, the telephone rang. Lucinda stared at it a moment, then with a small groan hurried across the room to pick up the receiver.
Perhaps it was Molly. She’d left her friend working late tonight at The Fashion Plate. There was a chance she might be having problems with the mohair cape she’d been sewing.
“Hello,” Lucinda answered warily.
“Hello, sweetheart. Did you get my Christmas package?”
The mocking masculine voice sent shivers of pure terror along her spine. Without saying a word, she slammed down the receiver and backed several feet away from the telephone.
Before she could reach the kitchen, it began to ring again. Lucinda did her best to ignore the demanding sound and tried not to think of the caller, who might be far across town, or perhaps just across the street from her.
The doors and windows are locked, Lucinda. He can’t get to you, she fiercely told herself. But deep down, she couldn’t make herself believe that she was truly safe. If, or when Richard finally decided to get to her, he could easily do it. Being on the Chicago police force had taught him all the ins and outs. It had also left Lucinda without any protection at all. No one believed she needed to be protected from one of their finest homicide detectives.
Finally the incessant ringing stopped. But by then, Lucinda was shaking all over. She was also furious. She was sick of being afraid. She was tired of constantly looking over her shoulder and dreading the ring of the telephone.
Chicago was the only place she’d ever lived. But it wasn’t a home to her anymore. It was a cage of fear and would be as long as Richard continued to harass her.
Squaring her slender shoulders and lifting her chin, she walked to the bedroom and pulled several suitcases out of the closet.
It was time she found a real home.
