Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

Even adrenaline wasn't going to work this free.

He dashed back to the driver's side, pried the jagged edges of glass off, tucked his head inside, skimmed his hands over her face, shoulders, arms, checking for injuries and chanting, "Hang on. Just hang on and the paramedics will be here soon, but they're gonna need to talk to you. Come on and wake up for me."

Her head lolled toward him. Relief pressed like weights against his chest. "That's right, babe. Wake up."

"Baby?" she mumbled, dark lashes flickering.

Ah, hell. He shouldn't have slipped and called her that. But twenty-two years of marriage and intimacy were hard to shrug off just because his brain told him they'd reached the end.

"Are you okay, Rena?" He forced himself to speak carefully, say her name. Just her name.

Color drained from her face, leaving her deep brown eyes all the wider, darker. Her hand fell to her stomach. She swallowed hard. "I think so."

Her voice shook. Her teeth chattered. All unusual reactions from his normally feisty wife. Nothing brought her low. She never complained or faltered if illness or life kicked her. She just kicked right back.

Not now.

For her to be this rattled, afraid even, scared the hell out of him. "You'll be free soon. I can't get the doors open. You were hit on the passenger side, and this side bounced off a telephone pole. I can't risk moving you until the paramedics check you out."

She frowned, fidgeted, bit back a moan. "My foot's stuck. I don't think I could crawl out anyhow."

His eyes fell to the floorboards. Blood trickled down her foot onto the plastic mat.

Damn it, where was EMS? Still no sirens. Only birds, wind rustling the trees, traffic on other roads cut the silence, the working-class neighborhood homes mostly empty at the moment. "Just hold still. Help will be here soon. They've already been called."

She blinked slowly. "I should tell you."

"What?"

Her hand drifted over her woozy eyes. "Um, oh God, I can't think and I need the words to come out right."

"You're hurt, and a little shaken up. Nothing more. No need for gut-spilling." He hoped. "This isn't a good time for soul-searching."

What would she tell him anyway? He'd backed from emotional outpourings nearly three months ago when he'd returned from Rubistan. He damn well couldn't handle it now.

"You're right, of course." Her hand fell away from her forehead. "Maybe you should step away. What if the car blows?"

"It's not going to blow up."

"You should step away anyhow. Just in case."

"Like hell."

"Somehow I knew you'd say that." She stroked his face with a limp and so soft, cool hand.

He stilled under her touch, hadn't felt it willingly come his way in months. What a damn inconvenient time to want her. But then adrenaline could screw with a man's better intentions, as he'd found out three months ago when he returned from Rubistan.

Her hand fell away, landing on her thigh. Her eyes flickered to the slowing cars driving past, to the handful of gawkers watching from sidewalks and windows, then back to the car. "Well, there goes the new paint job."

He smiled because she wanted him to. He'd do anything she asked just to keep her awake, talking.

Alive.

"Babe, there goes the whole car." Babe? Damn. "Insurance should take care of it, though."

And by God, he'd wrap his family in a helluva lot more metal and air bags next go-round, no matter how deep it slashed his currently hemorrhaging budget. Maintaining two households with a kid in college while they were still paying off Rena's college debt…

Not the time to think about money, he could almost hear Rena saying.