Hope White - Covert Christmas

“What about—”

“Forget it. Let’s go.”

A few minutes passed, silence ringing in Bree’s ears. The gunmen weren’t coming down to investigate; she and Blue Eyes were safe for the time being. Now, to make sure he didn’t lose too much blood while they waited to be rescued.

The thought snapped her into action. She radioed her position to Grace and dug in her pack for her first-aid kit.

“Grace, the victim will need medical assistance, over,” Bree said.

“What’s his condition, over?”

“Head injury and gunshot wound. I can deal with the head injury, over.”

She pulled out an antiseptic wipe and winced as she cleaned the man’s head wound. It was pretty bad and would probably need stitches. In the meantime she applied a butterfly bandage.

His eyes fluttered open. “Who...are you?”

“Breanna, but you can call me Bree.”

“Bree...anna,” he whispered and his eyes fluttered shut.

“Now comes the hard part,” she said to herself. His arm. She’d taken first-aid classes, sure, but a gunshot wound wasn’t exactly standard practice.

“Bree, this is Trevor. How’s his airway and breathing, over?”

“Seems okay. He’s in and out of consciousness. He suffered a head injury, but I’m more worried about the gunshot wound to his arm, over.”

“Apply pressure to slow the bleeding,” Trevor said. “If it’s a through-and-through apply it to both entry and exit wounds. If he goes into shock, cover him up if his skin’s cold or remove outer gear if he’s hot, over.”

“Thanks, over.”

“We’re a few minutes away. Hang in there, over.”

“I’m actually about five feet below the trail, over.”

“Copy that,” Trevor said.

Bree refocused on tending her patient. She pulled out two spare T-shirts and a scarf. She slid his jacket off, and ripped the material away from his wound, which wasn’t as bad as she’d originally thought. It looked as though the bullet had grazed the skin of his upper arm, but didn’t pass through his flesh. She wrapped one of the shirts around his arm and secured it with the scarf.

Rinsing blood from her hands with water and antiseptic, she caught herself humming, a coping mechanism she’d developed to stay calm. Only now did she realize what she’d done: saved a man’s life, and her own, from armed gunmen.

Up to this point she’d been going through the motions in a detached state, as if she were watching a movie. She’d felt this kind of detachment before. It had been a tool to numb herself to a brutal, violent scene. And there were plenty of those when she’d dated Thomas.

“No reason to think about that,” she said, shaking off the unpleasant memories.

Right now, at this moment in time, she was okay, the stranger was relatively okay, and help was close. She could fully freak out and process all this later when she got back to her cottage at the resort.

She pressed the back of her hand against the man’s cheek to determine if he was going into shock.

“You’re cold, all right.” She pulled a thermal blanket out of her pack and covered him up. “Hang in there, buddy. Help’s on the way.”

* * *

The most beautiful sound floated across his mind.

The sound of a woman humming.

She hummed a familiar Christmas song, only he couldn’t remember the title. He cracked open his eyes but all he could see through blurred vision was a bright mass of gold.

“Hey there,” she said.

He thought she smiled but couldn’t tell for sure. Her voice sounded throaty, yet feminine, and he wanted to hear more of it.

“I...” is all he could get out.

“You’re going to be okay.”

She was wrong, of course. He knew she was wrong, yet he couldn’t explain why. They were both in serious danger and had to get out of here.

“Trip...”

“I would have tripped too if I’d been chased by those goons,” she said.

“Have to...go.” He struggled to sit up but a firm hand pressed against his chest.

A firm, yet calming hand placed directly over his heart. “It’s okay. Those guys are gone. We’re safe and help is coming.”

He believed her. He didn’t know why. He was not the type of man to trust easily or believe strangers, especially not a woman.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

He blinked a few times, struggling to make her face come into focus.

“My name?” he said.

“I’m Bree, remember?”

He didn’t remember Bree, he didn’t remember much of anything.

“I can’t... Don’t remember.”

“Not even your name?”

He shook his head, exhaling a quick breath of panic.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

Her soft warm hand stroked his cheek in a soothing gesture. He closed his eyes, fighting to remember who he was, where he was from and why he was here with this woman.

“You’ve probably got a concussion. With a little time it will come back to you.” She ran her fingers down his hairline to his jaw. Once, twice. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

But it wouldn’t be okay, not unless he... What? What was he supposed to do?

Blinking his eyes open, his gaze landed on her smile. His vision was clearing. That had to be a good sign, right? This view was definitely a good thing. A beautiful woman stared down at him, offering a warm and caring smile. She wasn’t glamorous like a cover model. She was adorable, a girl-next-door type of beautiful you read about in novels but wondered if they really existed.

“Your eyes look better,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his face.

He wanted to beg her to continue the nurturing gesture, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words. Begging a woman for anything felt wrong, and downright stupid.

“I can see you,” he said.

“That’s awesome. How’s the pain on a scale of one to ten?”

“Pain?”

“Your arm, your head?”

“Were we...hiking together?”

“No, I was out here for a search-and-rescue training mission and saw you fall.”

“I fell?”

“Yes.”

He struggled to remember why he’d come out here in the first place. His gaze drifted beyond the woman to the brilliant shades of green surrounding them. It was so peaceful out here, so serene.

“One to ten?” she prompted.

He redirected his attention to her. “What?”

“Your pain?”

“Seven?”

“There’s no wrong answer. Just be honest and it will all work out.”

Honest? Was she kidding?

“That bad, huh?” she said.

“What?”

“The pain. You made a face like someone shoved a lemon in your mouth.”

“Yeah, I guess it hurts,” he said, concerned that she was able to read him so easily.

“Well, it’ll probably get worse before it gets better. We’re going to have to lift you out of here and carry you down the trail to an ambulance.”

“No hospital.” He’d be an easy target for sure. But for whom?

“Sorry, Blue Eyes, but a gunshot wound warrants a trip to the E.R., and probably a meet-and-greet from the local police.”

“But—”

“Save your strength.”

She placed her hand against his chest again, this time gently patting him in a rhythm that soothed him into a state of relaxation. His eyes drifted shut.

* * *

Pain speared down his arm to his fingertips.

“Ah, God,” he breathed.

But God couldn’t help him, not after everything he’d done.

“Take it easy,” a woman’s stern voice said. “You’re hurting him.”

It was the blonde from before. What was her name again?

He opened his eyes. Struggled to focus. But everything seemed to bounce around him. The sky, the trees, the blonde beauty.

“Hey, Blue Eyes,” she said. “We’re almost there.”