Joint Forces (Wingmen Warriors 7)

Chris accelerated past the never-ending pines and oaks lining the street. He could wear double his regular wardrobe of baggy cargo shorts, open button-down shirt over a T-shirt, and the extra layers still wouldn't be enough to pad his bony body.

What guy wanted to be the "spitting image" of his short, scrawny mama? Geez. Scrawny wasn't a problem for girls, but it really blew monkey chunks for guys. Especially when all the other dudes in high school were so freaking big.

He was tired of hearing that five foot eight was a respectable height for a sixteen-year-old and that he would hit a growth spurt soon. Easy enough for his dad to say from three inches over six feet tall with more muscles than a linebacker.

Then his dad would ask him to work out together. Like wrapping a few muscles around his spindly arms would help. Can't make something out of nothing. And that's exactly what he was.

Nothing.

Clicking the turn signal, Chris rounded the corner toward Shelby's house. At least he wasn't getting pounded at school anymore. His friend John Murdoch kept the bigger guys off him, the ones who called him a marching-band wimp just because he played the trumpet. Murdoch played the saxophone and nobody called him a geek. Of course he was tall, a senior, tall, a wrestler, tall and had a girlfriend.

Shelby.

God, she was so hot. Nice. Totally hung up on Murdoch.

And, hey, had he mentioned the guy was tall?

Except Murdoch was also a friend, which meant staying away from his girl. Not that she would have noticed a dweeb like him that way.

But man, he noticed her.

Her corner lot came closer. Shelby sat cross-legged on a quilt in the side yard playing with her little brother while Murdoch sprawled asleep. She didn't see him yet, and Murdoch was out for the count, so Chris allowed himself the rare moment to just look at her.

Her silky black hair swished over her shoulder in a ponytail. And—oh yeah—her bikini bathing-suit top with jean shorts showcased her belly-button ring. Suh-weet.

He pulled into her driveway. Wanted to pull her right to him and kiss her. Of course, he was more likely to grow ten inches by the end of the day.

"Hey, Chris!" Her greeting floated through the open window. "We're gonna order pizza in a minute. Can you stay?"

Even her voice was hot.

"Yeah, sure. Let me dig out my CDs first." And will away the evidence of exactly how hot he found her. Layered clothes weren't helping him much today on a number of counts.

Teenage hormones totally sucked.

But he couldn't go home, not yet. He needed to give his parents time alone. Maybe then his mom would finally tell his old man why she'd been puking her guts up every morning for the past couple of months. Her stomach was already poking out a little and still she didn't say a thing to anybody about being pregnant.

She must think he was a clueless bonehead like his dad.

Chris turned off his cell phone so his parents couldn't razz him about coming home and snagged his CD case. He would hang with Shelby and Murdoch for a while, and pretend everything was okay. Pretend that his parents weren't splitting. That he didn't love a girl who belonged to his best friend.

And most of all, pretend he wasn't hiding from a threat in his life that even tall John Murdoch couldn't warn away.

"Don't move, please, ma'am," the paramedic warned.

Pain jabbed from her ankle up her thigh. Rena gripped the edges of the gurney, taking mental inventory of her body as much as her muddled brain would let her while she stared up at the entrancing sway of oak branches overhead.

An air splint immobilized her foot. Her teeth cut deeper into her lip to bite back the need to cry out. She couldn't have pain meds anyway because of the baby. Besides, she welcomed the ache that kept her conscious and reminded her she didn't hurt anywhere else, like her stomach.

Her baby.

Rena gripped the gurney tighter. Love and protectiveness for this new little life surged through her until the pain faded. She'd barely allowed herself to think about this baby she and J.T. had made the night he'd returned from Rubistan.

She had to tell the paramedics about her pregnancy soon, but her mind was so woozy. She would explain once J.T. was safely off to the side, rather than risk springing it on him without warning.

Why hadn't she told him sooner? It wasn't as if she was waiting for a miraculous reunion first. She would have to tell him, today, but later in her hospital room, away from the others, when he wasn't about to crack a crown from clenching his teeth.

If only he would step away, but J.T. always did his duty, and being by his wife's side right now would rank right up there as a responsibility.