A Christmas Miracle

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.’