Читать книгу A Christmas Miracle - Amy Andrews - Страница 12

CHAPTER TWO

THE NAUSEATING SLICK of adrenaline that had been threatening Reid on his ride from the hospital dissipated instantly at the sight of his grandfather. Pops looked pleased to see him and there was strength in the old man’s arms as he returned the hug. He seemed to be in good shape.

But clearly Reid was going to have to get someone in to care for him in the mornings while he worked now he was becoming more mobile after his fractured neck of femur. Or at least keep an eye on him. This was the third time he’d wandered. Reid had figured with the cricket on the television nothing short of a bomb would shift his grandfather from the living room.

Obviously he’d been wrong.

‘Thank you so much for ringing,’ he said to the woman who stood staring at him with a mix of unease and something akin to distaste on her face.

He was used to the look. A lot of people didn’t trust dudes who rode bikes and had tats. And, God knew, some of them had reason. It didn’t usually bother him.

For some reason, with her, it did.

She was probably a foot shorter than his six-foot-four frame and holding on tight to a kid’s hand. The boy was skinny with hair as white and feathery as Pops’. He craned his neck, staring up at Reid all goggle-eyed.

‘No problem,’ she said. Her voice was cool, her expression tight, but, even so, two full, sensuous lips drew his gaze. There was an intriguing set to her jaw. Something told him this chick had gumption. ‘I’m just glad it all ended well. I was worried.’

‘You were?’

She started as if she’d said too much but she recovered quickly. ‘Yes.’ It was prickly and defensive.

‘Are you a Power Ranger, mister?’

He dragged his attention from the woman to the child. His voice was small but it rang clear, full of awe. Reid laughed.

‘Nope, sorry, little dude. But they are my favourites.’ He presented his fist to the kid, who bumped it enthusiastically with his own pale, puny one.

‘Mummy fought off the men who were being mean to Eddie like a Power Ranger,’ the kid said conversationally.

The words were like a punch to Reid’s abdominals. He glanced sharply at the woman who until a minute ago had been a complete stranger.

‘Shh, Oscar,’ she dismissed, shaking her head at her son, her cheeks flushed.

Instincts that had kept him alert and alive in the Middle East on two tours of duty went into overdrive. His scalp pricked. ‘What happened?’

‘It was nothing,’ she insisted, her gaze darting to the nearby car.

Reid glanced at his grandfather, who was smiling blankly. Clearly he’d forgotten the events already.

‘There were three of them and they were all pushing Eddie and Mummy threw one on the ground—’

The kid let go of his mother’s hand to demonstrate, making a pshwoar noise as he lunged with his legs, dropping an imaginary person in front of him.

‘And then she karate-chopped another one.’ The kid sliced his hand through the air with a hai ya! ‘Then she told them to leave and they ran away.’

Reid blinked at the revelations. He believed them. Not because the kid was so convincing but because the woman wasn’t quite meeting his eye. ‘Really?’ he mused, lifting an eyebrow in her direction.

‘They were just teenagers. Anyone would have done the same.’

Sadly, Reid knew that wasn’t true. Over a decade in the military had taught him that most people did nothing. But not this woman. This woman had taken on three people—guys—in defence of his grandfather. He took a moment to look a little closer at his grandfather’s guardian ninja.

She wasn’t exactly big and strong. There were fine lines around her eyes and on her forehead and he thought she might be about thirty. She didn’t look tough, especially not with a mouth that could have been perfectly at home on a catwalk model.

She looked...tired.

But he’d definitely picked up on an inner resilience. The kind that people in war zones displayed. And he knew enough about the world to know that war zones came in many guises.

What kind of war zone had made her so tough? Crappy childhood? Dangerous relationship? He slid his gaze to her left hand. No ring. Not even a white line or indentation where one might have been.

Not that lack of tan line meant anything necessarily.

But he had a feeling in his gut about her. Something told him her resilience had come from bitter experience. And Reid always went with his gut.

‘Reid,’ he said, reaching out his hand.

She eyed it warily before slipping her hand into his. ‘Trinity.’ She shook briefly—firm and sure—before quickly withdrawing.

‘And you’re Oscar, right?’ Reid said, turning his attention to the kid.

Oscar nodded and held out his hand for a shake. Reid smiled but obliged, shaking the kid’s hand. Also firm and sure considering he looked as if a puff of wind would blow him over.

He glanced at the woman. ‘Well, Trinity, it seems I am in your debt.’

Her eyes, tawny brown with flecks of amber, widened as she drew Oscar closer. Most women he knew would have flirted with him over that but she looked as if she wanted to bolt.

‘No, of course not,’ she dismissed, her gaze darting towards the car again. ‘It’s fine.’

Reid frowned. ‘Be that as it may, how about I take you guys out to lunch as a thank you?’ He checked his watch. ‘What d’you reckon, Pops? You hungry?’

‘I could eat a bear,’ he said. He made claws with his hands and gave a little roar for Oscar’s benefit. Oscar giggled.

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Really. I don’t need to be thanked. C’mon, Oscar.’ She reached for his hand again. ‘Say goodbye to Eddie.’

‘Oh, but I want to go with Eddie and eat a bear.’

The kid looked as if he could do with a bear-sized meal. So did she. ‘Sorry, we really must be going. We have plenty to do today.’

Oscar’s eyebrows practically hit his hairline; he was clearly surprised at the announcement of such a full day. Reid suspected that was because there wasn’t one. But the kid didn’t push, just sighed and shuffled over to Pops.

‘See ya later, alligator,’ he said, his voice chirpy despite the resigned slump to his shoulders.

Pops stuck out his hand and they shook. ‘In a while, crocodile.’

She said a quick goodbye too, ignoring Reid as she bundled her son into his safety seat in the back of the car. It was possibly the oldest car Reid had seen in a long time—about thirty years if his guess was right. Back in the days when cars were heavy and solid and not made to crumple. The paint job was faded and peeling around the edges and there were several small dings in the panelling where rust had invaded like cancer.

He’d noticed it parked here yesterday afternoon as he and Pops had gone for some fish and chips at Bondi. It had still been here on their way back last night. And as he’d left this morning.

It was rare to see bomby old cars in this street. Reid doubted there was a car in the entire neighbourhood that was more than three years old. He glanced inside as Trinity buckled Oscar in. The car was bulging with black garbage bags. On the back seat, in the foot wells and along the back dash. It was a similar situation in the front, the passenger seat and foot well crammed with plastic bags.

It looked as if everything they owned was in the car.

His scalp prickled some more. He was starting to get a very bad feeling about Trinity’s situation.

She backed out of the car and shut Oscar’s door. ‘Goodbye,’ she said, the cheerfulness forced as she smiled at Pops and flashed him a quick glance of acknowledgement before sliding into the driver’s seat and pulling the door closed. Her seat belt was on quicker than he could blink.

Reid almost laughed out loud. This was a first. Women didn’t usually object to spending time in his company. Not even the tats turned them off. In fact, these days, that usually drew them like a magnet.

But this chick couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

Before she had a chance to escape, he knocked on her window. She shot him an impatient look but rolled the window down. ‘If there’s ever anything I can do for you.’ He handed over his card. ‘Please don’t hesitate.’

She took it to be polite but Reid had no doubt she’d toss it the first chance she got. He’d known her for fifteen minutes but he already knew that. She reminded him of some of the village women he’d met in Afghanistan. All he’d been able to see of them were their eyes but they’d told him plenty about their relief and resentment.

‘Thank you,’ she said and rolled the window up.

She jammed the key in and turned it. The engine didn’t roar to life. In fact the only sound coming from the front of the car was a click. Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel as she turned the key again. And again. And again.

Click. Click. Click.

She undid her belt and Reid took a step back as she opened the door. ‘It does this sometimes,’ she said, her face tight as she reached down and pulled a lever before exiting the car. ‘It’s a battery thing.’

It sounded like a starter motor to Reid. He’d tinkered with enough engines in his life—cars, motorbikes and military vehicles—to know the sound of a dead one. Although if the battery connection was dodgy then that was possible too.

She walked to the bonnet and slid her fingers under the lip, lifting the heavy metal lid. Her biceps tensed beneath the weight of it as she secured it in place. Reid joined her. The engine looked as old as the exterior. None of the clean, sleek functionality of a modern engine. Just a greasy, blackened chunk of metal with years of built-up grime and neglect.

His arm brushed hers as he peered into the mess. He didn’t miss her sideways step as she tightened all the battery terminals.

‘That should do it,’ she announced as she unlatched the bonnet and clicked it shut, giving him a wide berth as she all but sprinted into the car.

Reid stood on the footpath next to his grandfather as she tried again.

Click.

Click. Click. Click.

‘Sounds like the starter motor,’ Pops said.

Reid smiled to himself. His grandfather was getting more and more forgetful but, a car enthusiast from way back, those memories were still fresh and vivid. ‘Yes.’

He strode over to the car. Trinity, gripping the wheel, appeared to be praying for it to work. He knocked on the window. It was a few seconds before she acknowledged him with a straight-out glare. But she rolled the window down anyway.

‘Sounds like the starter motor.’

She blew out her breath, staring at the bonnet through the windscreen. ‘The starter motor.’ The lines on her forehead furrowed a little deeper.

Reid crouched by the car door, searching for the right thing to say. A wild animal was always at its most dangerous when it was cornered. And that was how Trinity seemed at the moment—wild.

‘I’ve got a mate who’s a mechanic. He’ll fix it pronto.’

She seemed to contemplate that for a few seconds. ‘Do you know how much it would cost?’

Reid shrugged. ‘A few hundred dollars.’

She looked away but not before he saw the quick flash of dismay in her gaze. Her knuckles went so white around the wheel he was worried they were going to burst through her skin. He knew in that moment Trinity was just barely keeping her shit together.

‘I can pay for it.’

‘No.’ She shook her head vehemently.

Reid put his hands up in a placating manner. ‘Just hear me out. I said that I owed you and I meant it. Let me do this for you. As a thank you. I can arrange it right away and give you a lift home.’ He flicked a glance to Oscar sitting quietly in the back seat as if he was used to such breakdowns. ‘What do you reckon, little dude?’

‘We don’t have a home.’

Reid blinked at the matter-of-fact revelation as Trinity admonished her son with a quick, ‘Oscar!’

He glanced at the interior of the car, packed to the rafters with bulging black garbage bags. He’d suspected as much...

‘Ignore him,’ she said, her laughter so brittle he was surprised it didn’t shatter into pieces around her. ‘Kids say the damnedest things.’ Her gaze was overly bright, the smile plastered to her face so big it looked painful.

Reid didn’t know why fate had landed Trinity and her son in his lap today. But he was standing at a crossroads. He could take her assurances at face value and walk away. Or he could step in. As she’d done for Pops earlier.

Reid was a big believer in fate. His faith in any kind of God had been destroyed a long time ago but he’d seen too many incidences of people being in the right or wrong places at the right or wrong time to dismiss the mystical forces of predetermination. Trinity and Oscar had crossed his path for a reason and if he could help them in some way, he would.

Part of his job was advocating for homeless veterans—why wouldn’t he afford these two the same courtesy?

‘I’m going to call my mechanic friend. He’s going to come and pick your car up. Then you and Oscar are going to come to my house where we can talk a bit more.’

‘Oh, no, we’re not,’ she said, the plastered smile disappearing, a determined jut to her chin.

‘Trinity...’ He didn’t know why she was looking a gift horse in the mouth. He supposed a woman in her situation was wary about who to trust. ‘You can trust me. I live just down the road. In this street. The big white house that you can just see from here.’ He pointed at it and she glanced in its direction. ‘It’s my grandfather’s house, I live with him. Don’t I, Pops?’

Eddie nodded. ‘He’s a good ’un. Looks after his old grandad, real fine.’

She glanced from Reid to Eddie and back to Reid. He changed tack. ‘Look...to be honest, you’d be doing me a favour. I have to go back to work for two more hours and I won’t be able to organise someone to be with Pops at such short notice. I know you’ve already gone above and beyond and I know I don’t have any right to ask but if you and Oscar could hang with him until I get back it would be a load off my mind.’

She glanced at Eddie and her face softened a little, her chin lost its defiant jut. Bingo.

‘He’s completely independent,’ Reid said, pressing his advantage, although the thought that the dementia might progress until that was no longer true churned in his gut. ‘You don’t need to do anything with him. He just loves company.’ He flicked his gaze to Oscar, smiling at him. ‘What you say, little dude? Want to come back to my house and hang out with Eddie for a bit? We have a cat.’

‘Oh, yes.’ Oscar clapped, bouncing in his chair. ‘Mummy, can we, please? Please? Pleeease?’

She shot him a withering look. ‘Are you kidding me?’ she murmured, her incredulous gaze calling him out on his blatant manipulation.

Yeah...that had been a bit of a low move. Not quite like offering candy to a baby but not far off. ‘Look. The car will probably be fixed by the time I get back from work and you can be on your way.’

Suddenly her shoulders slumped and he knew he’d won. It didn’t give him much pleasure, manipulating a woman who probably had few choices in life anyway. But he really wanted to help her if he could and he needed a way in.

She turned her head to face Oscar. ‘Of course, darling,’ she said. Her voice was chirpy and Oscar beamed as if he’d just found a million bucks, but as she turned to face him her eyes shot daggers right through his heart.

If looks could kill, he’d be dead for sure.