Crossfire Christmas

“After I get the glue, I’ll go by a bookstore and find a magazine with lots of cowboys in it to bring to the hospital.”

“You’re the best nurse ever, Teresa,” Laila gushed on little more than a whisper.

Teresa smoothed her hand over the knit cap that covered the girl’s bald head. “You’re the best patient, sweetie.” With a quick glance at her watch, Teresa rose and turned Laila’s chair toward the hallway. “Come on. Let’s get you back to your room. It’s time for your medication, and I think maybe you can use a nap.”

“But I—”

“You want to be fresh and smiling when your mom and dad come in after work, don’t you?”

Laila nodded. “Can we show them the ornaments I hung up?”

“Absolutely.” Teresa parked her friend at the central desk to chat with an aide and a receptionist while she went into the dispensary and unlocked the prescribed medication. Then she wheeled her patient through the wide door to her room and locked the chair beside the bed before helping the determined girl stand and climb beneath the covers herself.

Teresa handed Laila the stuffed horse from her bedside table and the little girl hugged the well-loved toy to her chest while she chewed her tablets. After giving her charge a sip of water and tucking her in, Teresa checked the girl’s vitals and recorded the details and medication on her computer tablet. Laila was asleep before she was done.

“Oh, sweetie.” With a smile that was part admiration and part heartache, Teresa caught her long ponytail behind her neck and leaned over to kiss the girl’s pale cheek. Then she closed the blinds, unlocked the wheelchair and headed back into the hallway.

Returning to the playroom, Teresa quickly cleaned up their mess and pulled over an ottoman to set Laila’s artwork safely out of the way on the top shelf of the supply cabinet. As she climbed down to return the glue stick to a lower shelf, she made a mental list of other craft supplies they were running low on that she could pick up to keep the children who visited siblings or were patients here entertained. She suspected that Laila and a few of the other long-term care patients would be here over Christmas next week. Maybe she’d add some small gifts for them to her shopping list, too. Plan a party. Bring decorations from home to add more holiday color to their sterile environment. She had a couple of days off she could spend shopping, decorating and wrapping gifts. She glanced toward the waning sun and white flakes floating past the windows and grinned. If she cleared it with the doctors, maybe she could even bring the ingredients to help the children make snow ice cream.

No one should have to be alone on Christmas Day, denied the family and fun of the blessed celebration. No one should have to be sick or injured and in the hospital, either.

Humming a tune at the plan that was coming together in her head, Teresa locked things up and headed back to the nurse’s station to update her end-of-day reports. Although it had nothing to do with physical care, putting together a holiday party for the patients in the children’s wing would do wonders to raise their spirits. That was probably why she’d become a nurse instead of the artist she’d originally intended to be in college. Teresa was hardwired to help anyone in need. She needed to make a difference in other people’s lives.

Even if all she could do was make a little girl with a brain tumor forget her surgeries for a few minutes and bring a smile to her face at Christmastime, she was going to do it.

“There you are.”

Teresa looked up from her laptop to see a petite woman with dark brown hair and cheekbones that matched her own waddling up to the counter.

“Emilia.” She quickly stood to greet her oldest sister. The white coat and shadows beneath her eyes told Teresa that Dr. Emilia Rodriguez-Grant had just finished a long shift in the E.R.—if she wasn’t still on duty. “What brings you to the third floor?”

“Have you looked out the windows?” Emilia pointed to the bank of glass in the playroom before bringing her hands back to rub at her pregnant belly and the small of her back. “We’re supposed to get three to five more inches of snow on top of what’s already on the ground tonight.”

Here we go again.

Teresa inhaled a steadying breath but couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “It’s December in Missouri? Snow happens.”

“Don’t get smart with me.” Emilia tugged a lock of her recently bobbed hair behind her ear, practically clucking like a mother hen. “It’ll be dark soon. But the sun was bright enough today to melt some of the snow. You know when the temperatures drop, it will refreeze into ice. Driving will be very dangerous.”

Although she would’ve liked to blame this overprotective streak on Emilia’s pregnancy and the fact their mother had passed away just over a year ago, Teresa was far too familiar with her older sibling’s smothering concerns. It was both a blessing and a curse to be part of such a tight-knit, loving family. While she knew she was loved and would never lack for someone to care about her, she was the baby of the family, and asserting her independence was a challenge she’d been working on for most of her twenty-nine years.

“Thanks for the weather report. But I’ve been driving since I was sixteen—in worse conditions than this. I’ll be fine.”

“You know we promised Mama we’d look out for you.” Why hadn’t that dictate been given regarding any of her older sisters and brother? Maybe their father’s murder when she was a baby or the fact she’d been mugged her first summer out of high school or having a veteran cop for a big brother made them all unusually cautious about protecting their own. Still, it would be nice if one day her brother and sisters would see her as an equal adult and not that fatherless baby or traumatized teen. “I want you to head for home as soon as your shift is done,” Emilia cautioned.

Teresa risked a little nudge toward independence. “I need to pick up some groceries. And I was planning to do a little Christmas shopping.”

“Teresa—”

“Then I’m going straight to my apartment to bake cookies for Laila and the other pediatric patients to decorate. What kind of trouble can I get into buying baking goods and Christmas gifts?”

Emilia arched a dark brow. “Gamberro—” aka Troublemaker “—is your middle name, Teresa.” She tempered her skepticism with a smile and a hug. “Just remember you can call any of us if you have a problem with your car or the roads. I don’t want you stranded out in the cold.”

Were any of her older siblings getting the same lecture? Of course, they all had spouses and children at home expecting their arrival, who’d worry if they didn’t show up at a certain place at a certain time. Teresa didn’t even have a cat waiting for her at her apartment. She should be more appreciative of their concern.

“I won’t be. But just in case, I’ve got an emergency kit in my trunk, complete with blankets and flares, and I’ll keep my cell phone in my pocket.” Teresa tightened her arms briefly around her sister, then pulled back to touch Emilia’s distended belly. “Now you go home and get off your feet. Hug Justin and my nephew and get yourself and this little one some rest.”

The tension in her sister’s face eased as she placed her hand beside Teresa’s. “I think this one is going to be like her tía Teresa.”

“Pretty and smart?”

Emilia laughed. “A handful. I swear this one tosses and turns twenty-four hours a day. Not at all like when I was pregnant with her big brother.”

Teresa sobered with concerns of her own. “Do you need me to drive you home? Is your blood pressure spiking again?”

“No, no.” Really? Her family wouldn’t even let her do this little thing? “Justin is coming by the hospital to get me after he picks up Joey from day care. I’m fine. You just take care of yourself. Unless you want Justin to drive you home, too?”

Teresa bit down on her frustration and summoned a smile for her sister. “No, thanks. I’ll be fine.”

Emilia cupped Teresa’s cheek before turning away. “Have you decided what you’re doing for the holiday yet?”

“I’m planning a Christmas party for the children here the afternoon of the twenty-fifth.”

“I mean Christmas morning. It would be fun for all of us to help with your party later in the day. We could make extra food and bring gifts. Joey and our nieces and nephews would have fun playing with the boys and girls here.” Teresa knew that look—the one that said I love you and You’ll need our help at the same time. “But you’ll be joining us all at AJ and Claire’s to unwrap presents and eat brunch, right?”

Teresa understood mixed emotions all too well. Just as much as she loved her family, she wanted them to respect her skills and maturity and desire to be who she needed to be. But that battle was for another time. Not the holidays.

Her answer was sincere. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter Two

Nash couldn’t remember how long he’d been driving, and he had no clue where the highway was taking him.

Shaking off the fogginess in his head, he pulled off the next exit ramp and drove through some cookie-cutter neighborhood mecca. The front yards were dotted with wire reindeer and giant inflatable lawn ornaments. The snow and suburbia were as foreign to him as the need to find an ally who could help him.

He blinked away the frost forming on his eyelashes as his brain skipped from one random thought to the next. It was freaking cold here in Missouri; he had no driver’s-side window to roll up and he’d lost his hat. He loved that hat. It was a sentimental homage to the boys ranch where he’d lived and worked and gone to school after his parents’ deaths at the hands of a pair of drugged-up teenagers who’d invaded their home. Nash had grown up and taken a job with the DEA to combat the flow of drugs into Texas and other parts of the U.S., to stop another tragedy like his parents’ murders, to help troubled kids like he’d been find a healthier way to deal with the crap life threw at them.

He usually oversaw or handled undercover operations where an agent infiltrated a gang or cartel or independent meth lab to gather information to stop the drugs being made, trafficked or sold. But two of his agents had been exposed as cops and killed. So he’d gone undercover himself to find out how and why and who and had ended up with too many suspects and too little concrete evidence.

Somehow, Berto Graciela had found out he was a cop, too.

He was driving in circles.

Tommy Delvecchio was dead.

“Ah, hell.” A moment of painful clarity put the brakes on Nash’s rambling thoughts.

He’d come to Kansas City with one desperate plan in mind. Without knowing who’d betrayed him in Houston, he’d gone elsewhere to find a sanctuary where he could lie low long enough to safely figure out his next move.

He reconsidered calling Jake Lonergan, who’d left the DEA due to a nearly fatal head injury that had robbed him of his memory. Jake probably didn’t want any part of the violence chasing Nash to enter his happily-ever-after life. But, sitting in a pool of his own blood and panting for nearly every breath, Nash knew his luck was running out. It might cost him a friendship, but Jake was all he had left.

Taking his hand off the reloaded gun at his side, Nash brushed the snow off his lap at the next stoplight and reached inside the bag Tommy had brought him to pull out the untraceable phone. Even that subtle shift in his seat renewed the pain like a stab in the back. Thug One had winged him in the leg, creating a discomfort he could simply throw a bandage over. But Thug Three had got him good. He still couldn’t tell if the bullet had gone through or if it was lodged inside him somewhere. All he knew was that he was hurt. He was bleeding. And he wasn’t going to get any better on his own.

The light changed. A horn honked behind him before Nash stepped on the accelerator and moved along with the traffic past a busy shopping mall and a modern hospital. He debated whether or not to turn off into the hospital’s E.R. But if the men after him were smart—and clearly they were or they wouldn’t have tracked him to K.C.—they’d be checking E.R.s across the city looking for him. Besides, a gunshot victim showing up in a hospital was an automatic call to the local police and a subsequent alert to the DEA office in Houston. That was the kind of publicity he didn’t need. Until he knew who had set him up, trusting anyone, even a cop, wasn’t a good idea.

When he reached the next crossroads, Nash spotted a narrow two-lane road leading away from the suburbs and turned. He needed to get someplace without all these cars and people—someplace where he could put the first-aid kit in his bag to good use without anyone trying to help him or ask any questions. He needed a place where he could pull off and make sense of the dancing letters and numerals on his phone as he tried to recall Jake Lonergan’s number, which had been programmed into the phone he didn’t want to reactivate.

The truck wheels spun on a patch of snow-packed road and he dropped his phone to grab the wheel and keep the big Ford from skidding across the asphalt. Coming from Houston, he wasn’t used to driving in weather like this. Of course, if the world outside his cracked windshield hadn’t been such a blur, and he hadn’t been shivering from the icy wind blowing in through his busted window, he might have been able to handle the treacherous stretch of winding road he’d pulled off onto.

But he was hurt. He was bleeding. He was cold.

When he crested the hill and hit the next patch of black ice, Mother Nature finally did what a half dozen thugs in two different cities hadn’t been able to do.

She took him out.

Nash’s truck sailed off the shoulder of the road and plowed into the ditch. It careened up the other side and slammed into a tree. A wave of snow flew over the truck as he banged his head against something hard and blacked out.

* * *

TERESA DRUMMED HER gloved fingers against the steering wheel and hummed along with the Christmas music on the radio while she waited at the stoplight.

She tilted her gaze up to the big flakes of snow drifting from the charcoal sky into the light from the streetlamps. “See, Emilia?” She taunted the invisible big sister she felt arching a warning eyebrow over her shoulder. “Shopping’s done. Traffic’s fine and I’m on my way home with nary a problem whatsoever. And I did it all by my little lonesome.”

Not like a couple hours of defiant refusal to heed Emilia’s warning and go straight home in the nasty weather could really quell the nagging, indulgent voices of her siblings in her head.

You’re so good with children, but if you want any of your own, you’ll have to get serious about a man first. I’d already had Olivia and Maria by the time I was your age. A girl can’t wait forever.

But she could wait for the right one.

My husband has a friend I want to introduce you to. He has a good job at the college business office and he’s stable.

Dullsville. Sounded like another overprotective trap in the making.

You should move closer to us. They’re building new condos across the street. And it’s a better neighborhood.

She liked her apartment—had it decorated just the way she wanted. The neighborhood might not be prime real estate, but there were some good people living in her building. Besides, big brother AJ had taught each of his sisters, wife and nieces the basics of self-defense and personal safety. She could take care of herself.

I don’t want you driving without an emergency kit in your car, especially in winter. Flashlight? Jumper cables? Kitty litter? Make an appointment to get the tires rotated, too.

Done, done and done. Even before AJ, Emilia, Luisa or Ana had all mentioned reminders about winter driving safety to her.

Just because she longed for her family’s respect for her choices and a little bit of independence in her life, didn’t mean she was a naive fool. An optimist, yes. A resourceful go-getter. A hopeless holiday lover. But not a fool.

“Why can’t they see that?”

The light turned green, and Teresa cranked up the radio, turning her thoughts to something more pleasant. Like sugar cookies. And wrapping gifts.

She drove through the intersection after the cars ahead of her turned off toward the highway, and she continued on to the back-road shortcut to her neighborhood. The busy roads and businesses open late for holiday shopping gave way to country homes on hilly acreages. Then civilization thinned out to a recycling center and a shooting range. Finally, she was winding through woods and farmland. She’d pass through about two miles of bare trees reaching up like dark, gnarled fingers in the foggy twilight and pretty hillsides of undisturbed snow.

Although the twisting road was more dangerous than the straight lanes of bypasses and city streets, she loved this drive, especially in the winter. When the stars were out and the moon was full, it could be as bright as all the holiday lights on the Plaza. And on cold, damp evenings like this, with big flakes of snow swirling in and out of the shadows, it conjured up images of gothic romance, with mysterious heroes, hidden castles and storm-swept moors.

Teresa was imagining a castle hidden behind the frosted branches of the trees when she crested the hill and saw the tire tracks cutting through the snow at the side of the road. Automatically, she pumped her brakes and slowed, peering over the edge of the blacktop.

“Oh, my God.”

A silent alarm tightened her grip around the steering wheel. She braked again and pulled onto the shoulder for a closer look, angling her headlights toward the trees.

The tracks ran down into the ditch and up the next incline, leading to a black pickup truck that had finally been stopped short by the trunk of an old pine.

The truck’s lights were on. The plume of exhaust making a black spot in the churned-up snow meant the engine was still running. The accident was recent. Or else the driver wasn’t able to turn off the motor....

Gamberro is your middle name. Despite her sister’s teasing, Teresa didn’t believe she caused that much difficulty or misfortune. But she wasn’t about to walk away from trouble like this when there was something she could do to help.

Teresa clicked on her hazard lights and pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She glanced ahead at the dark road. She checked the pavement behind her in her mirrors—equally dark. A curtain of falling snow seemed to mask her and the accident below from the rest of the world.

Had the driver called for help yet? Was he or she even able to call?

Taking a deep breath, Teresa pulled the hood of her parka up over her dark hair and unbuckled her seat belt. She pulled out the flashlight AJ had insisted she keep in her glove compartment and braced herself for the blast of winter outside. Deciding to leave the engine and heater running in case the driver was able to move and needed a warm place to sit and wait for a tow truck, she climbed out and circled to the front of her car.

Dots of blowing snow melted on her cheeks and nose and obscured her vision as she huddled inside her coat.

“Hello?” Her shout was swallowed up by the cold, damp air. Her flashlight was too small to pierce the gloom at this distance. “Is anyone in the truck?”

Her sigh formed a puffy cloud in the air. The snow was knee-deep for a woman who was only five-three. And even though she’d changed from her work clogs to wool-lined ankle boots, she knew they wouldn’t be tall enough to get her past that first drift where the road crew had piled snow when they’d scraped the road.

“What’s a little wet and cold, anyway?” she dared herself, tightening her scarf against the biting wind.

She punched in 911, put the phone to her ear and plunged into the shallowest part of the drift. By the third step, she was sinking in up to her thighs, and the snow quickly chilled her through the scrubs and long underwear she wore. When she lifted each foot, she scooped the icy crystals into her boots, where they melted, wetting her socks and freezing her skin.

The dispatch operator answered. “This is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?”

“I need to report a vehicle off in the ditch by... Oh, heck.” Teresa glanced back up the hill. Since she’d been daydreaming, she had no idea how far she’d come or how close she was to reaching the nearest subdivision. “I’m somewhere along old Lee’s Summit Road—between the medical center and 40 Highway. On the east side.”

“Are you in the vehicle?”

“No, I just drove up on the accident.” She broke through the snow at the bottom of the ditch and stepped into ankle-deep slush that soaked her to the skin in icy water. Her teeth chattered through the dispatcher’s next question. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Is there anyone inside the truck?”

Teresa’s wet feet left her shivering as she climbed out of the ditch. “Just a minute. Let me check.”

She tilted her flashlight up to inspect the damaged vehicle. The driver’s-side window was down—no, it was missing. It must have shattered with the impact of the crash, leaving tiny blunt shards along its bottom edge. Still, with the coming night and no light on inside the cab, she couldn’t make out any driver or passenger. Not for the first time in her life, she silently cursed her diminutive height. When she reached the door of the jacked-up truck, she was too short to see in.

“Hello?” she called again. She reached up and tried the handle, but it was locked. She knocked on the door panel. “Is anyone in there?”

No response.

“Just a sec,” she warned the dispatcher. Finding a safe spot to grasp the edge of the open window, she tucked the flashlight into her pocket, stepped onto the running board and pulled herself up. “Madre de Dios.”

There was a man inside, slumped over the steering wheel. His dark blond hair was frosty with moisture. There was blood oozing from a knot on his forehead, and his skin was far too pale.

“Sir?” The ice cubes of her toes and the woman on the phone were forgotten as alarm, compassion and her years of training kicked in. “Sir?” She stuck the tip of her wool glove into her mouth and pulled it off with her teeth. She slipped two fingers beneath the collar of his padded leather jacket and pressed them to the side of his neck. Even with the thick jacket and the heater running, his skin was cold to the touch. But she could feel a pulse. It was faint and erratic, but it was there. “You’re alive.” She spat out the glove and raised her voice for the dispatcher to hear. “He’s alive.”

Pushing up onto her frozen toes, she gently leaned him back against the seat. With a groan, his head lolled toward his shoulder. A quick glance across the cab revealed a heavy nylon duffel bag but no other passenger to worry about.

“One victim,” she reported. Hooking her arm inside the door to free her hands, she reached across his lap to turn off the ignition and saw more blood staining the front of his coat and the left leg of his jeans. “How fast were you going?” she mused out loud, wondering at the extent of his injuries. The wreck hadn’t looked that bad from the road. Plus, he was still wearing his seat belt.

An answering moan silenced the random thoughts, and she moved her chilled fingers to his face, willing him to open his eyes. “Sir? Hey. I’m a nurse. I’m here to help.” She pushed aside the damp spikes of straw-colored hair on his forehead to inspect the gash there. It might need a bandage, but no way could it account for all this blood. She pushed open one eyelid, then the other. Honey-brown irises looked back at her, trying to focus. She smiled. Good. Probably no concussion, then. “I need you to talk to me. I’m Teresa. What’s your name?”

His pale lips drew together. “Don’t need a candy striper, kid. Run along.”

His speech was slurred. But it could be from the cold.

Kid? A little defensive fire crept into her veins before common sense reminded her to ignore the dig. The man was in trouble and needed her assistance. “I’m a registered nurse, and you’re badly hurt. You want me to hike back to the road to get my hospital ID or do you want me to help?”