Covert Christmas. Hope White

into the midst of gunfire. The only explanation she could offer was that it was the right thing to do.

      “Don’t second-guess yourself,” she said to her reflection in the mirror. That behavior had gotten her into trouble before.

      She grabbed her pack and left the bathroom. As she ambled down the hall, she took a deep breath and touched her necklace for strength.

      Her family and friends were passionate about keeping her safe because they loved her.

      Love, a complicated emotion.

      She glanced up and noticed a man leave the E.R. examining room heading in her direction. Boy, it was busy tonight at the Echo County E.R.

      She politely smiled at the man as he passed, and he nodded in return. Distracted by thoughts of defending herself from her family, it took a few seconds before she realized he looked familiar.

      “I was about to come find you,” Aiden said, walking up to her.

      In a flash it hit her: the man she just passed was one of the gunmen.

      And he’d come out of the examining area where they’d taken Blue Eyes.

      “No, no, no,” she muttered, shoving her brother aside.

      “Bree?”

      She rushed past him and flung open the doors to the examining area. The curtains were pulled back and all the beds were empty.

       THREE

      “Can I help you?” a nurse asked Bree from the corner of the room.

      “A man was brought in, thirties, dark hair, blue eyes, slight beard.”

      “Mr. Smith?”

      “Yes, where is he?”

      “They moved him.”

      “Bree, what are you doing?” Aiden said, following her into the examining area.

      She turned to him. “Is Chief Washburn still here?”

      “Yes, he’s—”

      “Go tell him I just saw one of the shooters.”

      “He’s here? Are you sure?” Aiden’s face reddened.

      “Yes, go.”

      Bree turned back to the nurse and focused on speaking as calmly as possible as she fought the panic building in her chest. “Mr. Smith’s in danger. You need to tell the police where he’s been moved so they can protect him.”

      “Sure, okay, let me check the computer.” She went to a terminal and tapped on the keyboard.

      “Did anyone else ask about him?” Bree pressed.

      “I don’t think so, but I just got here.”

      Chief Washburn rushed into the examining area. “Where did you see him?”

      “He passed me in the hallway just now,” Bree said.

      “Description?”

      “Black jacket, maroon shirt. It was the older one, in his sixties, with salt-and-pepper hair, wearing a blue baseball cap with a red C on it.” Bree shook her head in frustration. “I smiled at him because I didn’t realize who he was at first.”

      “That’s a good thing,” the chief said. “He won’t know we’re onto him, and he won’t suspect that you recognized him.”

      The chief spoke into the radio on his shoulder, giving instructions to his officers. He glanced at the nurse, “Room number?”

      “Still checking.”

      “Are you done with my sister, Chief, because I’d like to take her home,” Aiden said.

      “I can’t leave,” she said.

      “Breanna—”

      “They moved him to room 214 on the second floor.” The nurse interrupted Aiden.

      “Closest stairs?” the chief said.

      “Around the corner on the left,” the nurse said.

      Bree started to go with him, but the chief blocked her. “Please stay with your family where it’s safe.”

      “I have to make sure he’s okay.”

      “That’s our job.” He nodded at Aiden. “Take her to the waiting area, but don’t leave the hospital.”

      “Yes, sir.”

      The chief spoke orders into his radio as he rushed out of the examining area. The doors closed behind him and Bree fingered her necklace.

      “Hey,” Aiden said.

      She glanced at him.

      “Mom’s freaking out. You should probably...” He motioned toward the waiting area.

      With a nod, she went to the door and pushed it open, facing her family and friends. Mom rushed to her and offered a loving hug, holding on as if she feared Bree might disappear. Understandable given Bree’s history. It had been almost two years since she had abruptly packed up and moved to the city on a quest for more excitement in her life. She had learned the hard way that excitement was overrated.

      “I’m okay, Mom.” Bree broke the hug and squeezed Mom’s hands. “Really, I’m good.”

      As the rest of the group started firing off questions, Bree put up her hand to silence them.

      “I appreciate your support, especially you guys.” She nodded at the SAR K9 team members who’d come to the hospital: Grace, Trevor, Christopher and Luke.

      “Bree, what happened?” Bree’s best friend, Billie, asked with worry in her eyes.

      As Bree described the events of the past few hours, she watched her family and friends’ expressions change from disbelief to shock to concern.

      “She did a brave thing,” Trevor offered.

      “A potentially deadly brave thing,” Aiden said.

      Tears welling in her eyes, Mom studied her daughter like she’d never seen her before.

      Billie gave Bree a hug. “Quinn and I are headed to California on business tomorrow, but I think I should stay and keep you company.”

      “No, don’t you dare stay back on my account. I’m fine.”

      “That’s debatable,” Aiden muttered.

      “What do you mean?” Mom said.

      Aiden narrowed his eyes at Bree, probably expecting her to confess she’d developed an unhealthy and inappropriate connection to a stranger with a gunshot wound.

      “I’m okay,” Bree confirmed. “No injuries.”

      “Good, then we can go home,” Mom said, reaching out to take her hand.

      “I can’t leave the hospital,” Bree said.

      “Why not?” Mom asked.

      “Here we go,” Aiden muttered.

      “Chief Washburn asked me to stay, and even if he hadn’t, I want to be here for Mr. Smith when he wakes up.”

      “Breanna—”

      “Mom, he has no one, no friends, no family here at the hospital. He doesn’t even remember who he is. I was able to comfort him and he needs me.”

      “You don’t even know him,” Aiden snapped.

      “That doesn’t make his pain any less real,” Bree countered.

      “This isn’t your responsibility.”

      “No