Home Game (A Vancouver Wolves Hockey Romance Book 2)

Home Game: Chapter 4



I STOOD under the bus shelter. Sheets of rain washed over the street. I had worked another evening shift, making it impossible to get to the shelter by 8 PM. It would be another long night. I was so tired. My legs were killing me and I craved a hot shower and a warm meal. Instead, I would try to find a safe place to get me through the night while spending no extra money.

I decided to hit up my favorite diner. It was located in a rather remote, industrial area of town, but the waitresses were nice, it was warm, and the staff sometimes slipped me free food. No one ever said anything if I fell asleep in my booth.

I got off the bus and sloshed through the rain. To my dismay, the diner was dark and there was a sign on the door, “Closed for the day due to power issues.”

I looked around in dismay. The bus only came through here once an hour. Huddling by the front door, I debated my options. I could walk back to Hastings but it would take almost as long as waiting for the bus and walking through this rain would leave me soaked to the bone.

Alternatively, I could stay here and wait for the next bus. The only problem with that option is this wasn’t the greatest area. And I didn’t think it was the smartest idea to be sitting out here by myself. I looked around and then headed around to the back of the restaurant. If I stood flat against the building, I could remain out of sight and also stay relatively dry. It was good and bad. I was more vulnerable, being behind the building and facing the inky black of the back alley, but I figured tonight, I probably was okay. No one would be out walking tonight. It was too miserable. I kicked my bag beneath the steps, hoping it would stay dry.

The wait was interminable. I was so cold, my teeth chattered. A lone figure came up the back alley. His dark hood obscured his face, and he was pushing a shopping cart. Probably a tweaker looking for food. I didn’t breathe as he approached the garbage bins. I watched him from the shadows as he dug through the bins, looking for both food and bottles. He slammed the last bin closed and walked back to his cart.

My heart almost ceased when he stopped walking and slowly turned around. We made eye contact.

I should run. I should just run.

My hesitation was my downfall. Before I could even process how bad this was, he was in my face, towering over me. He was ugly, in that addicted, unhealthy, mean sort of way. He put one hand on the wall beside my head locking me in.

“What are you doing, little girl?”

“I’m an adult and I’m waiting for my ride.”

He looked behind him. “Oh yeah? I don’t see no ride coming back here.”

My jackknife and my pepper spray were in my bag. I was such an idiot. “They’re coming.”

His dirty hand grabbed my crotch, his bony fingers biting into me.

I shoved him hard and tried but failed to kick him in the nuts. “Fuck off.”

He laughed. “How ‘bout I fuck you instead.”

He pinned me against the wall with his stinking body.

“Get off me,” I screamed in his face, going ballistic. I swung my fists, kicked my legs, trying to connect with anything I could find. I bit and spit and then when he reared back from my head butt, I pushed away from him, slipping and sliding in the wet mud. His long reach found me when I was around the corner, but he tripped over something, giving me one more chance.

The bus. The road. Anything. Anyone. I came around the corner and there was nothing but empty black road and puddles. Wait. Is that lights coming? Is that the bus?

I was crying and running when he pounced on me from behind. He was on me like a dirty animal, pinning me down with his body, while his fists rained down on my head.

Blinding pain.

I held my hands over my head, but the hits just kept coming.

And then everything went black.


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