Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

"J.T.?"

He landed back in the moment. "Yeah, Rena."

"Would you please call the base clinic and let them know I don't think I'm going to make it in tonight?"

"They can wait. Dedication to your job only goes so far." He clamped his mouth shut. End of discussion.

He held his tone level, tougher by the second. "I'm not leaving this car until they have you out, so stop wasting energy trying to maneuver me away."

"I don't want people waiting around for me. Parents arranged sitters so they could attend this particular meeting. We have a guest speaker."

"Damn it, Rena, the guest speaker can start without you. Or they can just wait and eat cookies for a few extra minutes."

Hell. Great way to calm her, by fighting. He mentally thumped himself.

She laughed.

Laughed? Which stunned the fight right out of him.

Soft, breathless, her laughs tripped out with a huskiness that would have been sexy any other time but was too weak for his comfort level.

"Damn, J.T. We even fight about who's going to take care of whom."

She had him there.

Eyelids blinking slowly, holding closed longer every time, she stared back at him. He reached to take her hand from her thigh. Her bracelets slid, chimed, two sliding from her limp wrist to tink, tink on the floor of the car.

"Come on, Rena, stay awake."

Sirens wailed in the distance. About damned time.

She squeezed his hand without speaking, but her eyes stayed open longer at a stretch as she fought unconsciousness. He stared back, held her hand and willed her awake, sirens growing louder, closer. Pain glinted in her eyes, radiated from her tightening grip around his hand. His fingers went numb, but no way would he tell her, instead kept holding while praying the sirens would move faster.

Her gaze fell to their linked hands. Her grip slackened. "Oh God, J.T., I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cut off your circulation like that."

"No problem." He needed to keep her distracted, talking. "Reminds me of when you were in labor with Chris and transition hit you so hard and fast during the drive to the hospital. I was trying to recall all the coaching stuff I should be doing. Except I was scared as hell I'd be delivering the kid on the side of the road. Remember that?"

"Yeah, I do." Her grip firmed again. Not painfully this time, but holding on in a way she hadn't done in a long time.

Emergency vehicles squealed to a stop beside them. Doors flung open. He didn't want to let go. God, he'd missed her needing him. What a damn selfish thought.

She frowned. "J.T., I really have to tell you—"

A paramedic jogged toward them. "Hold the thought, ma'am. Sir, please move so we can get her out faster."

J.T. backed away. "We'll talk later." He would promise her anything, even one of those conversations she craved. "Hang on and we'll talk all you want soon."

The paramedic chanted a litany of encouragement to Rena while crawling through the passenger window to sit beside her. He placed a C-shaped collar to stabilize her neck, draped her with a protective blanket.

Then noise ensued, grinding and groaning of metal as the Jaws of Life pried her free. His wife's every wince sliced through him during the endless extraction.

Of course, he already knew just how difficult it was to cut Rena out of anywhere. Hell, he'd been trying to cut her out of his life for months without a lick of luck.

Christos Price hated whatever dorky unlucky star he'd been born under. It totally sucked being doomed to a life of geekdom.

Elbow hooked out the open window of his mother's car, Chris finished clearing the gate guard's station leading into Charleston Air Force Base housing. At least with his friends Shelby Dawson and John Murdoch he could be himself without worrying about being cool.

And he was anything but cool.