I’m the patient one. You’re the one who’s always running off half-cocked.”
The ache began to sear through her body. “No running tonight,” she muttered.
He gave it one more try. “C’mon, C.J., let me take you home.”
She splayed her hand over her chest. “Why, Warrick, this is so sudden.”
Not really. The small voice in his head came out of nowhere, implying things it had no business implying. Damn it, what had gotten into him tonight?
He raised a brow at the wordplay. “Your home, not mine, partner.”
It was late and she didn’t know how much longer her energy would last. Maybe something she came up with here would ultimately save someone. “Later.”
He felt the edge of his temper sharpening. “Now.”
C.J. looked away from her screen, fluttering her eyelashes at him. “You’re not the boss of me, Warrick.”
He gave up. Drop-dead gorgeous or not, she was stubborn as a smelly mule. “Fine, sound like a two-year-old. You’ll be good company for that baby of yours.”
She knew he meant well, but so did she. There was a man out there killing women because they looked like real-live versions of Barbie, and she had to put a stop to it. “I don’t feel like going home, War. There’s a stack of dirty dishes in the sink waiting for me, and a pile of laundry held over from the Spanish Civil War. If I’m here, I don’t feel guilty about not cleaning.”
She had to be the most contrary woman he’d ever met. Nothing about her went by the book. “Aren’t you supposed to be in the nesting mode by now?”
She hated that term. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a woman, not a bird.”
“You’re a walking contradiction of terms is what you are.” Surrendering, Warrick sighed. “Never could get you to listen to reason.”
She spared him a look and grinned. “Right, why start now?”
Why indeed. There was a cold beer in his refrigerator with his name on it. It was time to start the reunion. “Good night, C.J.”
“Uh-huh.” Her attention was already fastened to the reports she knew almost by heart.
Warrick had crossed the room and was about to pass the threshold when he heard a strange little gasp behind him.
“Warrick?”
There was something in her voice that made the hair on the back of his neck rise up. He swung around to look at her. C.J. was still sitting at her desk, but there was an odd expression on her face.
“What?”
Oh, God. Her words came out measured. “How close would you say we were?”
That was a hell of an odd question for one partner to ask another. “Pretty close, I guess.” He looked at her more intently. “Why?”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth a second before answering. “I think we’re about to get a lot closer.”
Like a man feeling his way along a tightrope, Warrick slowly made his way back into the room, staring at C.J. as he came. “What are you talking about?”
Very deliberately C.J. closed the folder on her desk. The pain shot through her again. She fisted her hands against it, but it didn’t help. Her knuckles felt as if they were going to break through her skin.
It matched the sensation going on in other parts of her.
She looked up at him, telling herself not to panic. “I’m in labor.”
Warrick’s eyes widened in disbelief. C.J. was given to practical jokes. This had to be one of them, although it went beyond the pale as far as he was concerned. “The hell you’re not.”
She caught her breath, trying to keep her voice steady. From everything she’d been able to pull out of Joanna and Sherry, this was definitely the real thing. Her skirt was damp and that could only mean one thing. Her water had broken.
“The hell I am.”
Chapter 3
“This isn’t funny, Jones,” Warrick snapped as a wave of uneasiness all but drowned him. He couldn’t remember any incident in his career, recent or otherwise, that had ever had him feeling this unprepared.
The pain found her and began twisting her in two. C.J. tried to fill her lungs with air, but even that hurt. “I don’t think any stand-up comic ever gave birth for laughs.”
He didn’t like the edgy note in her voice. The hope that this was just a bad joke on her part faded. “You’re serious.”
She pressed her lips together as she looked at him. She felt fear taking a strong toehold. Don’t panic, don’t panic. “Deadly.”
“You’re really in labor.” Somehow, maybe because he didn’t want it to, the thought just refused to penetrate his mind.
She nodded her head. Damn, this was really beginning to hurt. “Like a prisoner at Devil’s Island.”
Why was she still just sitting there, gripping both armrests as if she expected the chair to somehow launch her? “Well, damn it, what are you waiting for?” He put his hand on her arm. “Let’s go.”
She didn’t budge. She was afraid to. Afraid to even move. C.J. raised her eyes to his. “That’s just the problem, Warrick, all systems are go.”
Then why wasn’t she getting up? This wasn’t making any sense. Maybe it was a practical joke after all. He’d seen her deadpan her way through more than one joke before. He gave her arm another tug, surprised at how tightly she continued clinging to the armrests.
“Quit fooling around, C.J. The faster we get you to a hospital, the better.”
Biting down on her lower lip, C.J. pushed herself upright and immediately sank down in the chair again. Her legs had buckled, giving way beneath her. She couldn’t walk, couldn’t move.
She looked up at Warrick. “New plan.”
Impatience waltzed with nerves. “What?”
She shook her head, shrugging his hand off her arm. “We need a new plan. I can’t walk.”
This was bad, he thought, becoming really concerned. C.J. just wasn’t the frail, damsel-in-distress type. She’d been shot once and had almost snapped off his head when he’d tried to help her up off the ground.
His mind scrambled to make sense of this new input. “Okay, okay, I’ll carry you—”
“No!” With a sweeping motion, C.J. batted away his hands and then grabbed onto the arms of the chair again. It was either that or rip his arms out of their sockets. The pain was back and it had brought friends. “You don’t understand. It’s too late for that.”
Did
