His Christmas Sin (Fallen into Sin #1)

Chapter One

Maggie

This last hour of my twenty-four hour shift is dragging, and the forecast is still calling for six to twelve inches of snow tonight.

I’m trying to finish my end-of-shift report with Yvette, then I’ll be off for the rest of the weekend for Christmas.

Tonight has been hectic with multiple trauma cases, broken bones, heart attacks, and so many women in labor.

I should’ve known that this was how my shift was going to go tonight since there was a full moon.

I walk into the room she calls me from, and to my surprise, I’m faced with an older woman sitting upright in the bed, wide-eyed, her hair flat against her head. The poor woman has water running down her face.

“What in the world happened?” I laugh, looking at Annie.

She shrugs her shoulders. “Sorry, I know your shift is almost over, but she won’t stay still. She says it hurts, and I can’t get this thing out of her ear.”

I quickly grab some gloves from the side wall and turn toward the patient.

A giggle nearly bubbles from my throat when I see the wide eyed , frantic stare frightened look on the woman’s face.

She starts shaking her head, pushing herself further into the bed.

“Dear, I don’t think I can do this. I’ll just go home and see my doctor after the holidays. ”

Regardless of the laughter inside my head, I give her a gentle smile. “This will be super easy. They don’t call me their ear washing queen for no reason.”

After a few tugs, it came out free, and I held it up. “I found the culprit of your pain, Mrs. Harper. It’s just your hearing aid battery. It must’ve come off somehow. I’ll put it back together, and you’ll be on your way.”

Without warning, the woman wraps me in a big hug, drenching me with her wet hair. “Thank you so much. I hope you have a Merry Christmas.” She pulls back, and her face scrunches when she looks at my now-soaked top. “Oh dear, I forgot I was still wet. Please forgive me?”

“It’s a wet kind of job, but someone has to do it,” I chuckle.

As Annie hands us both towels to dry off, the woman thanks me again, like I just saved her entire year.

It may have been a small act on my part, but the tightness in my chest still eases.

I may not have anyone waiting for me at home this Christmas, but at least I was able to brighten this woman’s day.

By the time I finally clock out and walk through the sliding doors, the snow is already falling from the sky–thick and fast. I instinctively look at the sky as the cold washes over me.

Fat flakes swirl under the parking lot lights, blanketing my small town of Black Mountain and its Memorial Hospital in white.

I tighten my coat around me, gripping my bag against me as I stroll rapidly to my car.

Snow dances on the ground, but doesn’t cover it.

As I sink into the driver's seat, my body aches for sleep, and my stomach growls.

When was the last time I ate? Nothing is open this time of day, so I need to find something quick and easy at the house.

Images of my lit fireplace, a glass of wine, and Bruno my boxer, sitting next to me on the couch while we watch Hallmark movies, come to mind.

That is the best thing for a cold winter night.

I grip the steering wheel tightly as I pull onto the road.

The snow is already covering the street in a thick blanket, and it’s getting difficult to see.

My wipers struggle to keep up; each sweep barely clears the blur the snow is leaving behind.

My turn comes faster than I expect, and I slam on the brakes so that I don’t miss it.

My car starts to drift to the side, and I panic, letting go of the brake and careening into my turn.

Just as I make it to the dirt road leading to my cabin, my tires hit another patch of ice.

I drift to the other side of the road, my tires skirting over the road’s edge.

I try to regain control, but the car begins sliding sideways further along the road.

My stomach sinks as the car glides over the lip of the road into the patch of trees.

Thankfully, it’s just some small trees, and they only scratch the side of my car a little.

I try to pull onto the road, but my tires spin on the damp snow.

“Come on, baby, you can do it. We've been through worse snowstorms than this,” I coo to my car.

I press the gas again, and this time, I lurch forward, my tires landing onto the pavement. Driving the car straight, I make my way toward my home.

My small, weathered cabin finally comes into view as I drift up the driveway.

I smile at the soft glow of the porch light my pawpaw installed a long time ago.

It still shines so brightly. I cut the engine and sit for a second to get my racing heart under control.

I have driven in this storm since I was a teenager, and I believe the roads today are worse than they have ever been.

When I open the door, the cold air tears through me, sharp and angry.

The wind is relentless, clawing at my coat as I reach for my work bag.

My boots sink into the snow as I walk towards my porch.

The air stings at my face, and my fingers freeze through my gloves.

I slip the key into the lock, pushing the door open.

Brutus, my loving boxer, greets me at the door with his full body wiggles.

“Hi, mama’s boy.” I squat, letting my bag fall to the floor as I rub his head and ears.

I don’t know where I’d be without Brutus.

Brutus and I have been through so much, and he’s always been the light in my darkness.

A chill runs down my spine as I let the front door click shut.

It’s cold inside the cabin tonight, which means the fire went out hours ago.

I’ll need to grab more firewood before the snow rains any more than it already has.

Brutus' paws thud against the hardwood floor as he follows me down the hall to my bedroom.

Warmer clothes are needed before I go back out in the snow.

Lord knows my scrubs won't keep me warm.

I grab my snow jacket, pants and my boots from the closet before sitting on the edge of my bed.

This is another reason I hate the snow so much.

Putting on snow clothes is too much damn work.

Once all of my clothes are on and my boots are tied, I open the front door and let Brutus out. His pudgy body waddles toward the edge of the porch before he jumps into the cold snow and begins rolling around in it. I can’t help but laugh at him. “Silly boy.”

I grab my axe beside the house and walk to the tarp-covered wood I started on a few days ago. Looking back now, I’m glad I put plastic over the wood, or the snow would have soaked right through it before I had a chance to cut it.

I’m about halfway done loading the cut logs onto the front porch when Brutus's ears flatten, and his hair bristles on his back. He lets out a sharp bark and lunges from where he was just peacefully sitting in the snow. His paws slip and slide as he sprints toward the tree line.

That’s strange. He only does that when he's protecting me from danger, but I don’t see any danger.

I reach for the axe, but before I wrap my hand around the handle, a gunshot cracks through the trees, causing me to whip my head in its direction.

I know these mountains like the back of my hand, and no one should be firing a gun this late. The shot sounded like it wasn’t far from my grandpa’s old hunting cabin up the hill. I head straight for the outbuilding behind my house and wedge the axe inside in case a lunatic is on the loose.

I crouch inside the shed, moving the tool cabinet aside and peeling the black pad covering the bunker opening. My thumb finds the scanner, the lock clicks, and the hatch swings open.

My papaw built this bunker in case of mudslides from heavy snow or rain, so we would be safe.

My papaw and his friends dug tunnels that led you out at the end of the driveway.

He used to tell us stories of himself and his friends in the mines.

Once he owned his own land, he made his own mine shaft bunker.

I step into the bunker and head straight for the gun safe. My fingers close around cold metal—the AR-7, tucked away where I keep things safe just in case I have company. I pull it free, assemble it with practiced hands, and sling it across my shoulder.

Brutus is pacing in the yard when I return. “Easy, boy,” I whisper, my pulse beating so hard in my chest it rings in my ears. “Come on, boy.” I make my way to my side by side, the wind has already frosted the seats. I climb in, slamming the door, turn the key, and the engine roars to life.

Brutus jumps in, shaking off the snow from his fur. His gaze is fixed on the forest, his ears are perked, and his hair remains standing. He’s alert and ready for what’s to come.

I gun the throttle. Snow sprays behind us as we charge into the woods. The headlights cut a clear path through the trees against the storm, catching snowflakes whipping and whirling around us.

I grip the wheel tightly as I drive deeper into the mountain woods with Brutus sitting close beside me. Whoever is on my land won’t like what’s coming for them.