The Baby Mission Read online

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 labor enfeeble a woman’s brain? She was talking nonsense. “Too late for carrying?”

  Breathing and talking at the same time suddenly became a challenge. “Too late…for…anything. I’m having this…bay-BEE.”

  The sudden crescendo echoed in his head, hurting his ears. “Yes, I know—”

  Her efforts to the contrary, panic was definitely taking hold. C.J. looked at him. Did she have to explain everything?

  “Now, Warrick…I’m having…it now.”

  He stared at her, numb. “What do you mean ‘now’?” She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she was saying. “As in this minute?”

  The wave of pain ebbed back a few inches, letting her catch her breath. Perspiration was beginning to drench her. “I knew…if…you…sounded out the…letters, you’d…get…it.”

  Feeling a little weak himself, Warrick sank down on his knees beside the chair, holding on to one armrest. “C.J., you can’t be having this baby now.”

  “That’s…not…what the…baby…thinks. It’s breaking…OUT.” This time, C.J. did grab Warrick’s hand. Wrapping her fingers around it tightly, she squeezed and held on for all she was worth. “Oh…God…Warrick, I think…I’m having…an…exorcism.”

  He felt completely powerless and lost. This was not covered in any FBI handbook he’d ever read. “What do you want me to do?”

  C.J.’s answer came without hesitation. “Kill me.”

  Unequal to what was happening, Warrick dragged his hand through his hair, momentarily at a loss. “Damn it, C.J., this would have never happened if you had better taste in men.”

  It was lessening, the pain was lessening. C.J. took a breath and hoped her heart wouldn’t pop out of her chest. She spared her partner an annoyed look. “What…you saying? A better…class of man…wouldn’t…have slept…with me?”

  “No.” Warrick shot her a look. She knew better than that. She knew he thought she was too good for the likes of Thorndyke, even if he hadn’t told her. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  He dragged his hand through his hair again, trying to think. Nothing came. He didn’t know the first thing to do in this case, other than to keep her from panicking. But it wasn’t easy, not when he felt like panicking himself.

  “I’ve got a law degree, C.J., not a degree in babies. I don’t know what to do.” He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to gather his thoughts together. A small bud of hope began to bloom. “Maybe you’re just having false labor.”

  She felt as if someone had taken a carving knife to h
er. “If this is…false…labor, I don’t…want…to be around…for the real…thing.”

  Comfortable, he had to get her comfortable. The thought was almost laughable, seeing the situation. Warrick stripped off his jacket and threw it on the floor. She could lie down on that.

  Unbuttoning his sleeves, he pushed them up his forearms. “Okay, let’s get you in a better position.”

  C.J. pressed her lips together, struggling hard not to give in to the waves of panic that were surfing atop waves of pain. “I bet you…say that…to all…the girls.”

  Determined to muster a small ounce of dignity, she tried to get out of the chair herself. Dignity took a holiday. C.J. all but slid out of the chair in a single fluid motion, landing on his jacket on the floor.

  Warrick gave his jacket a couple of tugs, trying to get it flat beneath her and make her more comfortable. It was a futile effort. He knew C.J. wasn’t going to be anywhere near comfortable until this baby had made its appearance in the world.

  He was in over his head.

  Warrick pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling security—”

  Her hand went around his wrist like a steel band. She didn’t want some stranger gawking at her while she writhed in pain. She wanted Warrick.

  “No…no security.” She gave his wrist another tug. “Just…you.”

  She had entirely too much faith in him, he thought. “C.J., I don’t think I can—”

  She wouldn’t let him finish. Her eyes, filled with pain, pinned him. “You’re…my best friend…Warrick. You’ve got…to help me…. You can…do this.”

  Entirely too much faith. Surrendering, Warrick flipped the phone closed. “Yeah, you’ve got the tough part.” He tucked the cell phone back into his pocket and drew closer to her. His voice was calmer when he spoke. If she could have that much faith in him, the least he could do was come through for her. “Okay, C.J., this is all supposed to be natural. What’s your body telling you to do?”

  She grit her teeth together. “Run…like…hell.” And then her eyes opened wide like two huge sun-flowers. “I’ve got…to…push!”

  He knew very little about the birth process, but what he did know was that things were happening much too soon. “Are you supposed to do that yet?”

  “Dilated,” she suddenly remembered. “I’m…supposed to…be…dilated.”

  Warrick had heard the term in reference to childbirth before, but for the life of him, he wasn’t sure what that actually meant. “C.J.?”

  The look on his face told her everything. “I’m supposed…to be…fully…opened.”

  That didn’t help very much. Warrick sat back on his heels and looked at her. “I don’t know what you look like fully closed, C.J.”

  Her head ached. It was hard remembering everything that Lori had told them in class. Hard to think at all. Her brain felt as if it was winking in and out. What were the words Lori had used?

  “You’re…supposed to see…the crown…of…the baby’s head.” That was it. Crowning. Lori had called it crowning.

  A sinking feeling was taking up residence in the pit of his stomach. “Where?”

  She stared at Warrick incredulously. When she needed him most, he’d become a complete idiot. “Where…do you…think?”

  He knew exactly where he was supposed to look, he’d just been hoping against hope that he was wrong. They’d shared thoughts, feelings, almost everything over the past six years, and he would have been lying if he’d said that the thought of being intimate with her hadn’t crossed his mind more than once. But this wasn’t the way he wanted to see her nude.

  “Oh, God.”

  The groan escaped before he could prevent it.

  The next moment he got a hold of himself. He was all she had right now and he knew it.

  In its own way, this was really no different from him having her back when they were out in the field on a dangerous assignment. C.J. was putting her life in his hands and he had to keep her safe—her and this baby of hers who obviously didn’t have any respect for due dates.

  He offered her what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “You know, when they first put us together, I used to wonder what it would be like if I’d met you on the outside.” His smile broadened a little. “This wasn’t what I had in mind.”

  This was no time for them to go to places they couldn’t afford to go to. “War—rick.”

  He took a deep breath, then stated the obvious because he needed to get it out in the open and out of the way. This wasn’t going to be easy for either one of them. “It’s going to have to get personal.”

  Damn it, didn’t he think she knew that? They weren’t waiting for the baby to come COD by parcel post. “Warrick…do what…you…have to do…before…I start ripping off…pieces…of your body…along…with mine.”

  He grinned this time. “Nice to know you haven’t lost your winsome ways. Hang in there, champ.”

  As delicately as possible, Warrick lifted her skirt and removed her underwear. The moment he did, she raised her hips off the floor, crying out as another contraction, the biggest one so far, seized her in its jaws, tightening around her so hard she thought she was going to snap in two.

  She wasn’t fooling around, he thought. She was really going to give birth. It was really happening right here on the seventh floor of the federal building.

  “I think this is it,” he told her, his voice slightly in awe.

  “That’s…what…I’ve been…trying…to tell…you!” She twisted and turned, desperately trying to maneuver beyond the pain, and failing. She began to pant hard, not knowing what else to do. The urge to push was overwhelming, and Lori had promised she couldn’t pant and push at the same time.

  She was panting. What did that mean? Warrick called up every relevant medical program he’d ever watched, trying his best to fathom his next step. The first aid course he’d taken as a teenager had completely faded from his memory banks.

  Instincts took over. Needing to reassure her that it was going to be all right, he made his voice become deadly calm. “On the count of three, C.J., I want you to push. One—two—”

  She wasn’t about to wait on any lousy numbers. She couldn’t pant anymore. Sitting bolt upright, she squeezed her eyes shut and bore down.

  “Now!” she cried.

  Ready or not, she was pushing, he realized. “Damn it, C.J., you never could take instructions.” Mentally he counted off the numbers until he reached eight, then looked up at her. Her face beet red, she looked as if she was going to pass out. “Okay, stop, C.J., stop!”

  Like a rag doll whose stuffing had been yanked out, C.J. collapsed in a heap on the floor, panting. She felt as if she’d just run one leg of a marathon. Without securing the baton.

  Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she’d pushed the baby out and just didn’t know it. “Is it—”

  “No, not yet.”

  And then another contraction came, again threatening to tear her in two. She didn’t know if she could take much more of this.

  She heard the sound of Warrick’s voice and strained to make out the words.

  “Ready?” he asked. She was breathing hard, as if she just couldn’t pull enough air into her lungs. He glanced up to see if she’d heard him. She was nodding. Just barely. “From the top, C.J. One, two, three.”

  This time she waited until the last number was uttered, then bore down as hard as she could, pushing with all her strength.

  She thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head when she heard him yelling at her.

  “Stop, stop.”

  Gasping, C.J. fell back on the floor again. She was sucking in air, and her head was spinning badly. She was afraid she was going to pass out at any moment, and struggled to hold on to the world around her.

  “It’s…not…working…is…it?”

  How many times did it take to push out a baby? he wondered. One look at C.J. told him that she couldn’t take very much more of this.

  He took it one step at a time. And lied. “
One more time.”

  But she knew better. He could fool everyone else, but not her.

  “You’re…lying.” Tears and sweat were mingling in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks, pooling beneath her back. “I…can’t do…this…Warrick. I’m…not…cut out…for…this…kind of thing.” Each word felt like a boulder she was trying to push up a hill.

  There was no giving up now. He couldn’t let her. “Yes, you are.” His voice was fierce. “You’re the toughest woman I know. Now c’mon, one more time.” Abandoning his post at her nether end, he brought his face up close to hers and implored, “C.J., one more time. Just one more time.”

  Damn it, why didn’t he just let her die? “I…hate…to see you…beg.” With superhuman strength, she drew her elbows in to her sides and pushed herself up again. Her head was spinning worse than a top that was out of control. “Okay…let’s get…this watermelon…out…of me!”

  Warrick strengthened his resolve. “Let’s get serious now. Ready, C.J.?”

  She wasn’t ready, would probably never be ready again. Probably would never be able to breathe right again, either. But there was no postponing this and coming back tomorrow, refreshed and braced. She was in all the way.

  It was now or never.

  Sucking in one more breath to fortify her, she nodded at Warrick. C.J. screwed her eyes shut and bore down with every last fiber in her body. It felt like forever. She could swear she felt her blood boiling in her veins.

  An eternity later C.J. fell back against the floor, hardly aware of what she was doing. Only aware that there was some kind of noise buzzing in her head. No, outside her head. A wailing sound that could have been coming from somewhere else. Or maybe even from her. She wasn’t sure.

  Wonder was filtering through him. He was supporting an infant’s head in the palm of his hand. The emotion was almost indescribable. Warrick looked up at C.J. For a second it looked as if she wasn’t moving. “C.J., don’t pass out on me now, you’re almost finished.”

  A lot he knew. She had no idea where the strength came from to form the words. “I…am…finished.”

  “No, a little more,” he coaxed, infinitely grateful that God hadn’t made him a woman. There was no way he could have gone through this, he thought. “You have to push out the baby’s shoulders.”