A Hamilton Christmas (HIS Series Book 9)

by Sheila Kell

  As he walked away, Amber asked, “Why didn’t you tell him?”

  “What?” Reagan asked. “That there’s a guard at each door so we can’t slip out like last time? I figured it would be better for him to find out. How do you feel about all this?”

  In a whisper—and Reagan had no idea why—Amber said, “I’m kinda scared. What if the snow covers us and we freeze to death or starve? I wish my dad was here.”

  Swallowing hard, Reagan understood her feelings as she had the same, but she wanted to be strong for her cousin. “Even if we’re scared, we have to remember that Hamiltons stand strong. We have to think of the good to get us through when we’re scared.”

  “I think I’m too young to follow that rule. Aren’t you, too? It’s for the adults.”

  “I don’t know, Amber, whether it’s for all of us. I just want to be like Mom and Dad. They never seem scared and look at them. They’re strong and take charge when something goes wrong.”

  “You always take charge when we’re investigating.” Amber squirmed as if uneasy. Maybe she was too young to understand. “I’ll wait until I’m an adult to be like that.”

  Changing the subject, Reagan thought of what might interest Amber. “I heard Mr. Ronald say they had generators and would run them after the avalanche stops. And he brought plenty of food and so did Chef.”

  Amber wrinkled her nose. “He has those nasty MR-somethings.” She stuck out her tongue. “Yuck.”

  Reagan couldn’t resist a giggle, but felt bad it didn’t make her laugh too. “The new MREs taste pretty good.”

  Amber’s swaying was hypnotic. “How do you know? Have you tried them? Which ones?”

  “I haven’t tried them, but Dad, Uncle Matt, Ken, and some of the others on the team have, and they told me the new ones were better than old ones.” The more she considered the thought, their old ones were probably older than dirt.

  “Do they have new ones or old ones?” Amber asked.

  “I think new ones.” She wasn’t sure, but she wanted to make Amber feel better.

  “But you’re not sure?”

  “No, but we can ask when our dads return.”

  “And cousin Lee,” Amber reminded her.

  “Did you hear if he was in the military?”

  Amber stopped swaying and leaned over to rest her head on the floor, but her legs remained in the cross position. How did she do that? “No, he’s with them. Weren’t you paying attention?”

  Brandon saved her from responding that Amber hadn’t even been close to answering the question.

  Cocking her head to listen, Reagan realized something. “It’s stopped. Listen.”

  Mr. Ronald must’ve heard the same thing because he left the hallway, but the door guard remained in place. Aunt Madison might have been a supermodel, but that didn’t mean she had beans for a brain. She was smart and could kick ass, fitting right into the family. Uncle Brad made sure she could take care of herself. Then she got into martial arts—which Reagan wanted to start—to make herself lethal.

  They waited, and she sat on pins and needles. Even though her dad was nearly invincible, she worried about him. Every time he went into danger, Reagan’s heart always hurt, and it beat fast, making her lightheaded, and she wasn’t happy until he returned.

  Aunt Madison moved out of the way, and the men strode into the hallway. It was quiet. Even Mrs. Sterling wasn’t yelling. Poppy nodded to Mr. Ronald who spoke.

  “The avalanche did hit us, but the windows held and there is about two feet of light coming through the tops of the windows. As far as anyone leaving the lodge, it could be a few days as the roads are covered.”

  Mr. Ronald continued speaking, and she wondered if, like her dad, he knew everything. “Now, here’s how we’ll run the lodge. There is no compromising or doing things on your own. There are limited supplies of some things, but we are well stocked for nearly a week, so we won’t run out of food. Almost everything is rationed based on the size of the family.”

  He looked at Mrs. Sterling. Whatever Mr. Sterling had said must not have been strong enough. “What happens if someone steals or manipulates it? It’s not like you can starve us or kick us out.”

  He didn’t flinch when he said, “No, but I can triple your bill and ban you from future trips.” Without waiting for her response, he said, “Power. It’s out.”

  Reagan rolled her eyes. Like they didn’t know that.

  “Your rooms automatically unlocked and will remain that way until we have full power. You will respect each other’s person and property. Two of the owner’s sons will be armed and in charge of security. Don’t make them have to shoot you.

  “We have several generators, but they will only be used for requirements like heat. No TV, no power for computers, no phones, nothing but heat. And the public rooms receiving heat will be limited. The front area and all that flows to the dining room take too much to keep warm, especially with the snow on the windows. So, when you come down to eat—there will be no room service—bundle up. Now, since we only have a few rooms, the heat will be there. I’m making this decision due to the number of children and a pregnant guest. Know that your thermostats will be locked so you can’t change it. If you want it lower, come and see me. If you want it higher, tough, unless you have an urgent reason. Also, take one blanket per person. One. That includes one for each child.”

  “But—” Mrs. Sterling started.

  “Margaret” was all her husband said, which quietened her down.

  “The one extra room is blocked for police. The other room will be used by staff as all the rooms downstairs won’t be heated.”

  Reagan wondered if he’d practiced his speech because he was good at it and it was a long one. She didn’t understand what their complainer was trying to interrupt about. She couldn’t have extra stuff. No matter how important she thought she was, Reagan would fight for her smallest nieces and nephews to have what they needed.

  “For light, each of you will be provided two battery-operated lanterns. I recommend you conserve, as when I give out replacement batteries, it will be once. So if you waste your light by keeping it on all day and night, you’ll be the one to suffer.”

  He looked over at the cribs. “The exception is when babies are involved since you’ll have to use the light most of the night.”

  He appeared to be thinking. Maybe he was counting off a list. That’s what it sounded like even though he wasn’t using his fingers. “Let’s see, the kitchen will also be heated, but on a low setting. I could use a couple of you again to assist Chef since his help can’t get here.”

  “Consider it done,” Aunt Em said with power in her voice.

  “With limited power, there’s only so much Chef can do, so don’t expect the gourmet meals he’s been making.”

  Amber raised her hand, and Mr. Ronald looked at her. “Yes?”

  She stood, all proper, to ask her question. “Do we have to eat those nasty MRSs?”

  Amber wouldn’t understand how embarrassed she should be. It was probably better she didn’t. She also didn’t notice everyone smiling and some covering their mouths. Reagan suspected they were laughing.

  “Do you mean MREs?” Mr. Ronald patiently asked.

  “Yes. Those.”

  “Well, Amber, we’ll let Chef make our meals for a few days. I don’t think we’ll run out of food before we’re able to leave.”

  Amber cocked her head to the side. “Does that mean no?”

  Uncle Jake stepped forward. “We’ll talk about it later, princess.”

  And suddenly the thought of eating MREs was gone from Amber’s mind—or so it appeared. Without a word, Amber scurried to her father’s side.

  Mr. Ronald still talked, but Reagan would let Jason tell her what to do or not to do when they got back to their room. “Let’s talk water. We have plenty of bottled water, but it’s for drinking. Another exception is for babies. You’ll have extra. As for showers—”

  Like her, Brandon lost interest in the s
peech. “What do you think about exploring tonight? All the staff will be upstairs so no one will stop us.”

  “Something tells me Mr. Ronald will still be down here.”

  He looked at Mr. Ronald and grimaced. “You’re probably right. What d’ya wanna do?”

  Depending if she could get past Jason, she had a big plan for tonight. “I think I’ll check on Uncle Devon and spend some time with him.” She left off that he wouldn’t be the only uncle she visited.

  Brandon’s shoulders hunched and she felt bad she wasn’t dragging him along. He could come with her. There was nothing he could do to hamper her night. Although, he might get bored. Decision made, she decided to invite him. “My plan for tonight is to visit each of my uncles and Poppy to get them to tell me something about the trip that I can put in a scrapbook with the pics I’ve taken. It could be boring, but you’re welcome to come.”

  “There’s no bad guy investigating?”

  What an odd question. It wasn’t always about the business. She shook her head. “Of course not.”

  “Okay, then I’ll go.”

  WRAPPING HER BLANKET so she could wear it as a shawl, Reagan watched Jason toss a football up and catch it as he lay on the bed beside hers. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Reagan nodded. “I do, especially with all that’s happened.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about.” The ball didn’t stop its short flight in the room. “They probably want to be alone together.” When he raised his eyebrows up and down, Reagan knew what that meant. Mostly.

  Jason looked at her and must’ve seen her steely resolve. She wasn’t sure what that look was, but she knew HIS agents had it. He sighed. “Okay, if you’re bent on doing this, I’d recommend this route, Uncle Devon, Uncle Brad, Uncle AJ, then the rest since their kids are a bit older.”

  “Should I visit Uncle Devon with him having, like, a bullet in his butt? I mean I want to.”

  Nodding, Jason began tossing the football from hand to hand, and she didn’t think he knew he was doing it. “He is, but Uncle Devon will insist on being in his room until the doc decides what to do with him. If they need a surgery room, it’s ours because it’s easier to relocate us then their kids.”

  That snagged her attention as if it’d been a fishing line. “Surgery? I thought the doctor couldn’t do surgery here?”

  “He doesn’t want to since he doesn’t have all the instruments he needs and most importantly, he has nothing to knock Uncle Devon out to do it. It’ll only be necessary if the doc sees it has to happen before we can get an ambulance in here.”

  Reagan dropped on her bed and looked at her brother. “Did they say how long? What about they chopper him out?”

  The football stopped, and her brother shook his head. “I just know Ronald’s sent out a call through a Ham radio or something to see what the plan is for the roads. I’d think they’d do Medevac if needed. We’ll just have to wait.”

  Her desire to see everyone this evening turned to a mound of worry. Milton had shot at her. She’d been scared when Brandon and Uncle Devon had fallen on her. With the avalanche, and worry about her Uncle Devon, it seemed the incident had been a million miles away. She hoped by keeping busy, she wouldn’t have to feel scared or cry about what could’ve happened to her. Milton did point his gun at her. Her hope was she could hold off thinking about it until she went to bed.

  It was her fault her uncle was shot and could die if no one could get to them to help. What could she do? Walking to the hospital wasn’t an option, not only because she had no idea where it was, but because most of the snow was still higher than her head.

  “Oh, no, squirt.” Jason opened his arms, and she fell into them, fighting the tears filling her eyes. “It’s not your fault.” He always knew how to read her. “The man was going to shoot his way out, no matter if you’d been there or not.”

  It wasn’t until she sniffed that she realized she was crying. “But it was my fault. I only wanted to help find the killer since no one could. I didn’t want anyone hurt.”

  As he slid his hand up and down her hair and back, he tried to soothe her, but she couldn’t stop crying no matter how hard she tried. “Shh. You’re still a water pot.”

  That’s when she got the hiccups and Jason’s chest rumbled for a minute. “I can’t believe,” she somehow said between tears, a stuffy nose, and hiccups, “that you’re making fun of me.”

  “I’d never make fun of you. You’re my little squirt and I love you.”

  She turned her head and sniffed. “I love you, too.” Her tears were stopping but the hiccups remained to annoy her.

  “Are you ready to talk about this?”

  She pulled away and nodded. Before she could sit on the bed beside him, he reached on the nightstand between their beds and grabbed a tissue for her. “Blow first so I can understand you.”

  Giving him a stare that told him she’d realized he made fun of her again, Reagan blew her nose, which felt better. Before they spoke, she went to the bathroom and tossed the nasty tissue in the garbage can.

  Returning, she bounced up on his bed beside him. She could’ve gone to hers and been opposite him, but she wanted to be close because it took away some of her worry and fear.

  Jason reached over and took her hand in his. She liked when he did that. “I know you want to believe this was your fault.” When she made a noise to speak, he stopped her before the first word slipped out. “Don’t interrupt. Dad and Uncle Devon weren’t planning to allow him to leave. Weapon or not.”

  “But he shot at me.” Her bottom lip trembled and water filled her eyes again, but she wouldn’t cry. Wouldn’t.

  “He used you as a diversion to escape. If it hadn’t been you, it would’ve been someone else. Maybe Poppy because he was out there.”

  She wasn’t sure she believed that. “But Brandon and I got the evidence—”

  “Right. So why didn’t he shoot at Brandon, especially when Lee was his target?”

  She opened her mouth to argue but closed it when she had nothing to say.

  “See? If you’re set on being a HIS agent, you have to look at the big picture, not just your part in it. If he didn’t target Brandon, then he shot at whoever. I think he chose you because Dad and Uncle Devon would check on you and give him the chance to escape.”

  Jason gave her a lot to think about, but Reagan still felt she’d been wrong.

  “But if I hadn’t been there—”

  “Reagan, that’s enough of that. He would’ve shot someone. How else could he escape not only Dad and Uncle Devon’s guns pointed at him, but with more of our uncles showing up?”

  “Why didn’t they shoot him after he hurt Uncle Devon?”

  “I’m not sure, but I heard that with the door open and guns being fired, it could’ve triggered a small avalanche.”

  “Small? That one was huge.”

  He nodded with a smile, and she felt so much better about everything. Not Uncle Devon getting shot, but she understood more. There was so much more than investigating in HIS. She had plenty to learn and she knew Jason would help her.

  “It was more than they expected.” He winked at her. “It’s deep enough that I can throw you out there and I won’t find you until spring.”

  She giggled at that. “I’m too heavy for you to throw me.”

  “Wanna bet?” He surprised her by quickly grabbing her up and tossing her to her bed. The laughter made the heavy stuff leave her body, making her feel lighter.

  “Remember”—Jason held up and arm and flexed a muscle she could barely see through the sweatshirt he’d tossed on after everything—“I do weight training.” He dropped his arm and reached down for her. Instead of picking her back up, he tickled her until she could barely breathe.

  Once he stopped, he looked at her seriously. “Are you better now?”

  She nodded, sprang up to her knees, reached up, and hugged him around the neck real tight. He was the perfect brother. She pulled back. “Will I see yo
u after you leave for college?”

  “Of course. It just won’t be every day. It’ll be during holidays and spring break. Can you live with that?”

  She brightened. “Yes.” Then she thought of something and frowned. “Will you bring girls home like you do now?”

  He chuckled for a minute then ruffled her hair. Okay, he wasn’t exactly perfect brother material. “I might, but I’ll still make time for you.”

  Brandon’s knock on the door was perfect timing because she wanted to start before the babies were asleep. “That’s Brandon.” She left the bed and walked to open the door.

  “Christ, Reagan, have you dragged him into more of your crazy schemes?” Before she answered, Jason tossed that dang football again.

  She snapped her hands on her hips and let her indignation show. “I don’t have crazy schemes. And he’s here voluntarily.” Knowing she put him in his place, Reagan ignored his chuckles and opened the door. “Come in.” She waved Brandon in like her words weren’t enough for him to understand.

  Once Brandon saw Jason it was like Reagan didn’t exist. Boys.

  Jason stopped tossing the ball and greeted Brandon. They immediately started talking football. If she had to share her new cousin with someone, Jason would do, she admitted to herself reluctantly.

  Instructing Brandon, Jason said, “If you know you want to play high school ball, it’s never too early to start getting ready. It’s not about just throwing the ball; it’s also about strength, agility, and flexibility. I think you’re too young to start on weightlifting, but I have a few drills that will help with agility. Do you know what position you want to play?”

  Reagan murmured, “Please not quarterback.”

  Jason must’ve heard her because he leaned across the bed and pinched her arm. She turned only her head and gave him the evil eye. She hadn’t perfected it yet, but Jason was her guinea pig, and he always told her how she was doing. “Not bad.”

  He leaned back to focus on Brandon, who said, “Running back.”

  Thank goodness. They had too many former quarterbacks in the family and now Jason. He was really good, and she was proud of him, but she didn’t want Brandon to be the same.