by J. M. Madden
John pulled more tissue paper from the bag, then pulled out a second harness, this one blue. He looked up at her, his eyes shining. “I guess Christmas came early from my brother .”
“There are no other notes or anything ?”
“No. That’s where the bears came from, though, I’m sure .”
Shannon looked at the boys. They each had a hand on a teddy bear and they weren’t toys that she recognized .
John looked through the bag, shaking his head. Shannon could tell he was disappointed, but also happy that his brother had been here. No, he hadn’t seen him, but at least he knew he was safe .
Retrieving the baby monitor, John scrolled through the footage for the past six hours. At a little after three, a figure moved into the boy’s room. If he hadn’t already known who it was, John would have been alarmed. Wyatt woke up first to a stroke on his cheek and held his arms out to the figure in his room. For several minutes Jamie held John’s oldest son, talking to him and playing. And when he set Wyatt back into the crib he gave the boy the teddy bear .
Caden had woken and been content to chew on his fist. As Jaime picked him up from the crib, Caden patted at his cheeks, one of the things he did to John, too. As John watched, throat tight with emotion, his brother visited with his nephews, stealing a few precious moments to play and connect. Jaime must have considered it safe enough to come out of hiding for this. He handed Caden his bear and put them back to bed. Surprisingly, both boys went down without a fuss or a whimper .
John scrubbed at his face, wishing Jaime could find peace. Actually, he wished they could all find peace .
Following the trail, John looked up the interior camera footage on his phone. At three twenty-eight in the morning, a darkly dressed figure crept into view of the inside garage camera, carrying the Christmas bag. The figure set it on the bench, then reached into his breast pocket for a folded piece of paper. John laughed as Jaime held the paper up to the camera lens. ‘Merry Christmas, Big Brother !’
Then he disappeared from view .
“And Merry Christmas to you as well, little brother. Shannon,” he called, “we better leave some cookies out just in case Santa decides to return .”
The Purple Christmas Miracle
Chapter One
S am groaned out loud as he looked around, a little dazed. What a freaking mess. He brushed the glass from his flannel shirt and heavy coat, looking back at his truck .
It was totaled. No doubt about that. As well as the other four cars the semi had hit .
Swallowing heavily, he blinked his eyes clear of something, then brushed them with his hand. Oh, blood. He recognized the dark gray color for what it was and wondered what he’d done to himself this time .
Somebody screamed and he cocked his head to locate the source. It was a bitch when only one ear worked. The cars that had been parked and waiting for the light to change had been smashed into each other, thanks to the semi that hadn’t stopped for the traffic in front of him. Sam’s truck seemed to have taken the least amount of damage, but another car, the one directly in front of the semi, had been shoveled beneath his truck bed. Of the four cars, it seemed to be in the worst shape .
Sam jogged toward the compact car, wondering how anyone could survive that mess. Throughout his life he’d seen many horrific scenes, and he had a feeling this would be one of them .
The semi driver swung down from the cab of the truck, looking unsteady on his feet. As he looked at the cars he’d obliterated his mouth fell open in horror. “Oh my God, oh my God,” he chanted .
Sam looked at the florid-faced man, and the vodka bottle that had rolled beneath the tire of the truck. He had no patience for drunks. If he had time he’d confront the man, but people could be hurt and dying .
Pulling the cell phone from his pocket he dialed 911. When the operator answered he reeled off the details .
“We’ve received several calls about this. Fire and EMS are on the way .”
He hung up without responding, then moved toward the mangled vehicles. Afternoon sunlight glinted off angled metal and the snow continued to fall. Had that contributed to the crash as well? He hadn’t felt like the roads had been especially slick, but then, he was used to driving the Denver streets in all weather .
There was a woman inside the most-damaged car, the one behind him, sobbing. Sam could see dark hair spread across the top of the seat. The windshield and roof were crumpled back on the driver’s side, leaving the top of her head exposed. She looked up at him, her eyes flooded with tears and blood. It was obvious when her car had been pushed from behind and under his truck bed that her car had basically been scalped, and the top of her head had been hit as well. Blood flowed from a wound on her scalp but she was conscious and looking around. Panic had begun to creep into her eyes. “Hey, hey,” Sam said, reaching out to her. “You’re going to be okay .”
“What happened?” she cried .
“We were all hit by a semi, but we’re going to be okay. What’s your name, miss ?”
“Ch-Chandra. Hollingsworth. Oh, God, my legs hurt .”
Sam looked at the mess of the interior, leaning his head in as far as he could to try to see the extent of her injuries. The front of the car was a crumpled mess. He could see her feet wedged beneath the dash, and one seemed out of alignment. He tugged on the door, but it was bent shut .
“Where’s my baby? Did you get him out already ?”
Sam’s breath caught in his throat. There was a baby? Turning, he searched what was left of the back seat, but all he could see was folded over metal. He couldn’t actually see the seat itself. If he could have amplified his ears he would have, but even his good one was ringing right now, probably from the knock on the head he’d received .
“What’s your boy’s name?” He asked, hoping to distract her as he started looking for a way to pry the metal up .
“Austin. He’s six months old today .”
Fuck. Sam looked around for help, but no one had gotten here yet. Faintly he thought he heard sirens in the distance, but the sound was fighting against the ringing. Seeing no other options, he started wrenching on pieces of metal, looking for something that would actually move. He had a feeling that there was going to be no way into the crush without mechanical intervention .
Sam tugged and pulled, talking to Chandra the entire time. He listened for the sound of a baby crying, but it didn’t come. Chandra’s desperation did though .
Using a four-foot iron rod he found in the wreckage, he managed to wedge it beside her feet in the floorboards. With a mighty heave he lifted on the plastic dash and it moved a little. Chandra gasped .
“I felt it move !”
Dashing the blood from his eyes, Sam leaned into it again, shoving with everything he had .
Chandra cried out as her legs were freed. She moved them back a little bit. “They’re free, but they hurt! Oh, God !”
Sam leaned into her and lifted her from the seat. Her legs hung limply but she wrapped her arms around his neck .
Sam couldn’t have articulated every movement he made, because he was starting to lose time. His head continued to bleed and there was an ache in his side he hadn’t noticed before. He was also becoming aware of smoke in the area. Something, one of the cars, had started burning. The acrid scent filled the air. Crossing to the opposite curb, he set Chandra down on a blanket someone had spread for him to put her down on .
Forcing his legs to move he headed back to Chandra’s crumpled car. Now that she was out of the vehicle he could lean over the door and look back into the darkened back seat. Yes, there was a little foot .
Sirens screamed closer. If he thought he could wait, he’d let the professionals do this, but the smoke was billowing. Chandra’s car had taken the brunt of the force so it stood to reason that her car would be the one the most likely to burn. Wiping his head again, he leaned over the door and let his ass fall into the seat, his legs out the window. The steering wheel was hard against his back. Twisting, he
was able to get both arms into the back seat, but he really had to work to do it. He wasn’t a small guy. Right that moment he desperately wished he was .
Sam could feel the base of a car seat, and a warm little body sitting in it. Reaching for the back of the seat he searched for the seat belt release, but then realized that there was no way the seat would fit through the hole where he had his arms. Reaching back into the car seat, he searched for the straps around the little body .
Working blind, he fumbled around, fingers not wanting to work right. They were slick with blood from the cuts on his palms .
He felt a hand on his leg and looked up. Backlit by the blazing Colorado sun was a fireman .
“Sir, are you okay ?”
Sam nodded, just as his fingers found a button to depress to release the child seat straps. “There’s a baby in here. I’ll pull him out and hand him up to you .”
The fireman nodded and Sam turned back to what he was doing. Pulling both feet he cradled the little body with his second hand and twisted back around. The baby didn’t make a sound, just blinked up in the light of the waning sun. The fireman reached down and carefully took the little boy, disappearing. Sam struggled to get out of the seat, feeling ridiculous. He grabbed the roof to his left but it was sharp and jagged, not allowing him a grip. Twisting in the seat he tried to push up with his arms, but his injuries were starting to make themselves known. His head was throbbing and black spots were dancing in front of his eyes. Smoke had engulfed the car and he had a feeling it was on fire, but he couldn’t move just yet. Maybe if he rested just a minute .
Whether it was seconds or minutes, he didn’t know but when he next opened his eyes the fireman was there, holding a gloved hand out to help him from the wedge he was in. Sam took the hand, just because he didn’t know what else to do. Once he was free of the embrace of the crumpled vehicle, he leaned back against it, his head swimming. The fireman was there in front of him, motioning with his hand but Sam couldn’t hear what was being said .
Eventually the fireman just moved in close, wrapping one of Sam’s arms around his shoulders. This guy was little, but strong, Sam thought vaguely as he leaned against him and tried to get his feet to work .
Damn his side hurt .
When he heard the ‘whoomp’ of fire lighting he began to panic. He’d been there and done that before. He didn’t need to do it again, but God seemed determined to test him. The fireman guiding him seemed to understand the danger as well because he sped up, dragging Sam with him .
This was going to be the worst Christmas ever if they didn’t get their asses moving .
The fireman urged him away from the crash and toward an ambulance parked a little ways away .
“I’m good. I don’t think I need to be seen .”
The fireman continued to tug him forward, though, and Sam didn’t really have the energy to fight it .
Sam looked back at his truck. It had been fully engulfed now, but the fire department was trying to control the flames. It looked like a losing battle. He gritted his teeth as his only mode of transportation was destroyed .
“That truck driver needs arrested,” he growled. “He was drinking .”
There was a garbled response from the fireman, then a shout. One of the cops came over, looking down at the fireman. Sam hadn’t realized how little the guy was. At least several inches shorter than his own six feet. He owed the dude a beer for keeping his bacon from getting fried .
Huh. Didn’t see short firemen very often .
The cop leaned over to the fireman for a moment, then looked sharply at Sam. “Did you say the truck driver was drinking ?”
He nodded. “The vodka bottle rolled out of the cab when he got out.” Sam scanned the area, looking for the bottle, but didn’t see it. “I’m sure if you test him he’ll come up over the limit. Dude was staggering .”
The cop nodded and jotted down Sam’s contact info in a notebook, then headed off to find the driver .
Sam felt a weird, sickening wash of something roll down through him and he had to stop. He became aware of the throbbing in his head and lifted a hand to the pain. It came away really dark gray. Damn, he was bleeding a lot. Now that the adrenalin had begun to ebb he was noticing the aches and pains he’d shoved aside in order to help the baby .
Sam’s stomach roiled and he thought he was going to be sick. Turning quickly, he lurched toward the side of the road and retched. Not much came up but it made his head scream with pain. He must really be in trouble. Concussion probably. When he stood to look at the hovering fireman, his vision wavered. When the man bent over and took off his helmet, Sam thought he was losing his mind. The guy had turned into a short, purple haired, gorgeous woman. What the fuck !
He blinked a couple of times, looking at her hair, before the darkness swallowed him under. He didn’t feel the fireman sling him over her shoulders to carry him to the meat wagon .
Chapter Two
S parrow felt terrible for the hero. It was obvious he was dealing with a bad concussion, and the puking would just make him feel worse. And he’d looked totally horrified when he’d seen her hair. Was the helmet-head that bad? It was why she kept it so short on the sides and the long top pinned back .
Keri looked up from the other patient in their rig, a man with what looked to be a broken leg, when she stopped at the door. “Who’s empty?” she asked, steadying the guy over her shoulder. He was heavy and long, and her legs were beginning to quiver from holding him. Dude was definitely bigger than her brother, who she normally practiced on .
“I don’t think Jack has anyone in his .”
Sparrow didn’t even respond, just headed to the rig a little further back from their own. Jack’s truck had come from Fire Station 15 on Harrison, a little more on the eastern side of Denver than their own station 4, so it had taken them longer to get there .
Keri was right, it was empty. Jack spotted her headed in his direction and dismounted the gurney. By the time she arrived he was ready to help her roll the guy onto the mattress. Immediately he slapped an oxygen mask over the guy’s mouth, forcing in oxygen. Coming out of any kind of fire, it was a given that the patients would need to be oxygenated. Jack’s partner Oliver sidled in beside her and they started through their treatment checklist .
It gave Sparrow a moment to look at the guy. She knew she needed to get back to her own rig, but something held her there. The guy wasn’t very old, maybe late twenties, but he had heart. That much was obvious. He didn’t have to save that baby. He’d put himself into an incredible amount of danger to do it. Not many people would in these times. Christmas was a week away, and that family could have had a devastating tragedy on their hands if it hadn’t been for his actions .
The man had a beautiful mop of auburn curls and a light reddish beard. One side of his head was plastered with blood and she thought she could see a cut up around his hairline. That would probably need stitches. His face was lean and something looked strange about his right side. Oh, damn. A large chunk of his right upper ear was completely gone! And there was a patch of hair around the ear that seemed… more sparse than the rest of his scalp. It was an old injury, though .
Sparrow glanced down his body, feeling strangely connected to the man. At least six feet tall, his body had been long, but definitely didn’t seem bulky enough. Seemed like the dude didn’t eat much. Or maybe he was just one of those types that couldn’t add weight .
His eyes fluttered open suddenly and she jolted with awareness. Dark, liquid brown, sad, with thick red lashes, they pinned her to the spot. One of his hands reached out toward her, and she couldn’t leave him hanging. Removing her right glove she moved around Oliver to grab the man’s hand. Heat flowed through her and something fluttered in her belly, but she curled her fingers tight into his. “You’re going to be okay, buddy. The squad’s going to transport you to the hospital, okay? Looks like you have a concussion .”
Without saying anything, the man released her hand. But he didn’
t set it back on the bed. He reached for the long angled wing of hair hanging down over the side of her face. Two fingers and a thumb felt the hair, rubbing it between the pads. “Purple. I see purple .”
Sparrow grinned. “Yes. Purple.” She shrugged. “I like to be different .”
The man grinned at her from beneath the oxygen mask and let his hand fall back to the gurney. “What’s your name ?”
“Sparrow.”
The man repeated the name, then his beautiful eyes drifted shut again .
“We’re going to transport him, Holmes .”
She waved a hand, backing away from the gurney. “Okay. See you there .”
When she returned to her own rig, Jack gave her a thumbs up. “We’re ready to transport .”
Sparrow didn’t even remember the drive to the hospital. The man’s liquid brown eyes were right at the front of her mind, as well as that terrible injury to his head. She cursed herself for not getting his name. But it shouldn’t be hard to find the guy. They were going to the same hospital .
Sparrow didn’t get a chance to track him down, though. They were dispatched almost immediately to a second crash. The light dusting of snow had turned the roads into a skating rink, and the people were paying for it .
S am opened his eyes and cringed. Damn it was bright. He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked around .
Hospital, obviously. He could smell the damn place before he could make out the objects in the room .
There was a nurse at the end of the bed and she looked up at him with a smile. She seemed nice enough, but she was bland like every other person he looked at. Two-dimensional and colorless .
Had he actually seen purple? Or was that a strange figment of his imagination? His throbbing head rang with pain, even more so when he pushed himself into a sitting position. The nurse lifted her brows and shook her head at him, but Sam wasn’t in any mood to listen to her. Swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he realized there was a draft. “Where are my clothes,” he demanded .
