Crossfire Christmas

by Julie Miller

  Nash slowed to a stop at a traffic light and unsnapped the cell phone on his belt. After wiping away the clammy sweat that dotted his forehead, he searched the screen for Jesse Puente’s office line, punched it in and tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could twist around and untie the blood-soaked bandanna on his thigh.

  The light turned green before the number picked up.

  “Captain?” Nash dropped the bandanna in his lap and gripped the wheel again as he pressed on the accelerator. The responding silence raised every suspicious hackle Nash possessed. Puente liked the sound of his own voice too much for him not to start talking. “Who’s this?”

  “Agent Cruz Moreno, Drug Enforcement Agency, Houston office.” Like Nash, the officer spoke with a hint of suspicion coloring his tone. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”

  A quick grunt of relief clouded the cold air leaching in through the truck’s shattered window. Cruz Moreno was the newest man Puente had recruited. He’d transferred over from the San Antonio office and was being trained to replace the slain officers working in the Graciela organization. Thank God Nash had convinced Captain Puente to hold off sending Moreno into the field. Although not as green as Tommy had been, he wasn’t up to speed yet on the intricacies of their long-term investigation. “This is Nash. Put the captain on.”

  “Puente isn’t here right now.” Urgency replaced the caution in Moreno’s tone. “Where are you, man? The captain booked it out of here as soon as we lost contact with Delvecchio’s phone. Tommy missed his call-in time. Did you two meet up?”

  Nash pulsed his grip on the wheel, his body feeling hot and chilled at the same time. And it wasn’t just his injuries messing with his ability to focus right now. “Tommy’s dead.”

  “Dead? I knew that kid couldn’t—” Moreno’s bilingual curses pretty much summed up the grief and rage Nash felt. “I’m calling Puente on the other line. You need backup? An extraction?”

  “No. I need to disappear. I need time to find this guy before he finds me. I’m gonna put a stop to this.” Nash released the steering wheel at the next stop and wadded up the bandanna to stuff it beneath his vest to stanch the wound. Pain knifed through him at the added pressure and he swore. “Tell Puente he can claim Tommy’s body in Kansas City.”

  “Is that where you are?”

  The agonizing jolt cleared his head for a split second, and Nash got the feeling he’d already said too much. Someone had leaked his name, along with Torres’s, Richter’s and Delvecchio’s, to Graciela’s or Vargas’s men. That someone could be listening in on the line right now. And even though Cruz wore the same badge Nash did, trusting anyone—even a fellow agent—just wasn’t going to happen. “Not anymore, Moreno. I’m halfway to Chicago,” Nash lied, wondering how far away he could get before another thug or the hole in his chest stopped him. “I’ll call again when it’s safe. Until then, I’m going off the grid.”

  “What about backup?”

  No. Solo was the only way to go until he knew who was killing his team. “If I’m as good at this job as I hope I am, I won’t need it.”

  Bold words for a man whose left hand was going numb inside his glove and whose sheer will was keeping him upright.

  “We’ve got no idea who’s behind this yet, so watch your back, Nash.”

  “You, too.”

  He could hear Captain Puente’s voice in the background, grousing on the other line as Moreno gave him a brief sit rep. Then Cruz was back, no doubt relaying a message. “Is this phone clean?”

  “What?”

  “Are you using the burner phone Tommy brought you? If Graciela’s men could track Tommy, then chances are they can locate you, too.”

  Nash cursed. Rookie mistake. “I’m done.”

  “Wait. The captain wants to know where in Chicago—?”

  But Nash had already disconnected the call. He raised his aching leg to guide the wheel on the straight stretch of road, freeing his good hand to turn off the phone and raise it to his teeth to pry open the back. He pulled out the battery and GPS chip and spit them out on the seat beside him, going dark on any kind of satellite trace. Unfortunately, though, that meant he had no means of communication on him, either, until he could find a spot to stop where a bleeding man in a broken truck wouldn’t draw attention, and he could unpack the new phone in his go bag.

  And since he was clearly off his game, Nash had driven into the heart of downtown instead of catching one of the highways and had the dumb luck to be caught in the heart of rush-hour traffic. Until he could get his bearings, until he could think this whole mess through and decide where he needed to go, he’d just keep driving.

  He’d come to K.C. to hook up with an old friend, Jake Lonergan, a former agent who’d gotten out of the business. He’d hoped for a spare bed or sofa to bunk on for a night or two until he could make some inquiries and form a new plan of action. But Jake had a family now, complete with a wife and little girl, and another baby on the way. Nash seriously doubted his old friend would appreciate him bringing a drug war to his front doorstep.

  He’d met a couple of guys at KCPD a little over a year ago, working on another case. But they weren’t the kind of buddies a desperate man called on for off-the-record help. He’d trusted every man on his team—would have called Torres or Richter in a heartbeat. But now they were gone. Besides, he didn’t want to be responsible for the deaths of any more cops. Whether the Graciela-Vargas war had extended its reach to Kansas City or they’d come here just for him, he could imagine they wouldn’t take too kindly to interference from anyone else who wore a badge.

  Nash slowed his truck and followed the flow of traffic through a fancy shopping district decorated with more lights than he could count and window displays for the upcoming holiday. He hadn’t even thought about Christmas. Besides the fact his parents were gone and he had no siblings and was married to his work, he’d been too busy trying to stop the drugs and save his team these past few months. Celebrating the holidays was for men with families and kids who still believed in the kind of magic and hope he’d stopped believing in long ago.

  Right now he just had to live long enough to ID a traitor and exact a little revenge on the man who’d sentenced his agent brothers to death. Legally, if he could. But a bullet to the head would be justice enough if he couldn’t find any other way to finish this.

  Maybe he’d see Christmas next week. If he was lucky, he’d see New Year’s. He glanced down at the blood seeping through the hole in his leather coat.

  Or maybe, if he didn’t clear his head and think of some options fast, he wouldn’t even live to see tomorrow.

  * * *

  “FINALLY. HERE’S THE horse I’ve been looking for.”

  Teresa Rodriguez watched Laila Alvarez sag into her wheelchair, dropping the scissors and magazine she held into her lap. Despite the little girl’s brave smile and never-ending chatter, Teresa could tell that thirty minutes of making ornaments in the playroom of the Truman Medical Center’s children’s wing had taxed the eight-year-old’s energy.

  Knowing her patients better than they sometimes knew themselves, Teresa slipped her hand over the glue stick on the table and dropped it into the pocket of her cartoon-print scrub jacket before Laila noticed. She nodded toward the image of a team of brown-and-white horses. “Those are Clydesdales. They grow big and strong and pull heavy wagons. They’ll be a nice addition to your stable.”

  “Are they bigger than you?”

  At five foot three, Teresa found that a lot of things, except her patients, were taller than her. “Bigger than you and me both.” She leaned in with a smile and gently took the magazine and scissors from her young friend. “How about I set the Clydesdale aside, and we can cut him out and put him on a new ornament tomorrow.”

  Laila closed her fingers in a halfhearted grab. “But I want to finish decorati
ng the tree.” She gazed longingly over at the Christmas tree in front of the bank of windows. An Appaloosa, a buckskin, a pinto, a palomino and a Lipizzaner stallion already hung from yarn bows in the branches, along with ornaments other children had made. “And I want one to hang in my room.”

  “I said we could work until we ran out of supplies, remember?” Teresa gestured to the tabletop. “We’re out of glue. I’ll have to get some more on my way home. But we’ll finish them later. I promise.”

  Despite the wistful expression in her cocoa-brown eyes, Laila nodded. She moved her small fingers to the picture of a barn and hay bales that she’d already glued to a piece of cardboard for Teresa to cut out and string a loop of yarn through. “I need a cowboy to watch the horses for me when I’m not here.”

  “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.