Page 36

I stared at my sleeping husband in awe. The next stage of our lives was about to begin. It was a lot to process. The sheer magnitude was impossible to absorb. We were about to become dads. Quaid’s lifelong dream was about to come true.

I tucked my dozing husband back into my arms and buried my nose in the fine hairs along his nape, inhaling and crying silent tears of happiness. This was it. This was our moment.

Sleep would not come, but I didn’t care.

I lay quietly, alert for any messages from Bryn and doing my duty to ensure we didn’t miss the call to head to the hospital.

Quaid slept on, oblivious. Part of me felt cruel for not waking him to share the joyous news, but another part knew I was looking out for his well-being. He needed sleep.

In the early morning, as I hovered someplace on the cusp of consciousness, another buzzing noise sounded.

That time, Quaid responded before I was fully alert.

“The phone. That’s a phone!” He sprung from the couch, elbowing me in the gut in the process as he tumbled to the floor, clearing the coffee table of debris as he scrambled to figure out whose device was ringing.

Foggy from a night of not sleeping, I sat up and cradled my wounded gut, prepared for Quaid to launch into a flurry of action the second he realized Bryn was in labor.

It was my phone ringing, but when Quaid grabbed for it, his expression suggested it wasn’t our surrogate calling. He turned the device to face me. “Who’s Lady Justicia?”

“Fuck.” I snagged the phone from his hand. “It’s Madison. What the hell time is it?” I accepted the call before it rolled over to voicemail, my voice croaking as I spoke. “Hey. Did you sign my warrants?” She didn’t speak, so I added, “Your Honor.”

“Don’t forget your place, Doyle.”

“Sorry.”

I couldn’t dance the same line as I used to back in my days as a single man, and although the judge had been going out of her way to help us out this past weekend, she wanted me to remember where I stood, which was far beneath her.

“You can pick them up from my secretary. You’re welcome. I’m in court all day. You’ll need to wait or find someone else if you need more.”

“Thank you, Your Honor. I appreciate it. ”

She hung up without saying goodbye. Quaid sat on his ass beside the coffee table, frowning and waiting for a report.

I yawned and checked the time on my phone. Ten to seven. “Warrants are ready.” I must have drifted at some point during the night because I’d missed a couple of hours.

Quaid crossed his arms and hitched a brow. “Lady Justicia?”

“It’s a joke. A nickname. I programmed it years ago.

I forgot I even had her number.” Although Quaid was much less jealous than he’d been before our marriage, there were times when his insecurities snuck through.

Fearing this might be one of those times, I pivoted the conversation elsewhere, effectively erasing his concern with four simple words. “Bryn called last night.”

His eyes widened, and he scrambled to his knees. “What? How come? Oh my god. Why are you just telling me now?” He glanced at his phone like it had betrayed him. “I didn’t hear it ring. Is my phone broken?” He picked it up and shook it.

“I silenced the call so it wouldn’t wake you, then answered it.”

His eyes shone with surface tears, imploring me to say the words he’d been desperately waiting to hear.

“She’s in labor.”

It took half a second for it to sink in, and Quaid was off the floor like a shot, racing for the stairs like a man on a mission. “Why didn’t you wake me? We have to get to the hospital. When did she call? Oh my god. We’re going to miss it. Start the car, Az, I’m coming.”

I fumbled off the couch and chased after him, blaming my barely awake brain for jumping the gun. I knew Quaid would go into instant panic mode and run.

I found him in the bedroom, baby bag and car seat on the floor in the hallway. He stripped from his wrinkled clothes, leaving them scattered on the floor as he raced to the closet and snagged whatever hung on the first hanger he encountered.

“Quaid.” I grabbed for his arm, but he lurched away, tugging on jeans and unearthing a T-shirt from a drawer attached to my dresser. Over his head it went, inside out and backward. He didn’t notice. In fact, his button-fly jeans were incorrectly done up, so they pulled awkwardly at his waist.

“Quaid, stop and breathe.”

“There’s no time to breathe. Az, we’re going to miss everything. Our baby is coming. Maybe he or she is already here and wondering why Daddy wasn’t there like he promised. I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up.” He slapped my shoulder, and I winced.

“Quaid.” I caught his arm and held it tight so he couldn’t shake me off. “Stop. Bryn isn’t even at the hospital yet.”

He froze, a look of confusion on his face. “What are you talking about? Why? She has to go to the hospital. We didn’t plan a home birth. We can go get her and—”

“Labor has only just begun. When I talked to her, the contractions were still far apart. She was going to try to get some sleep. She’ll call when she heads to the hospital. She promised.”

“But—”

“It’s fine, Quaid. Everything is fine. Stop panicking.”

Quaid’s chest rose and fell. His baby blues frantically scanned my face. “What time did she call?”

“It was after midnight.”

“That was hours ago. What if—”

“Quaid. Labor can take hours. She said her first birth was over thirty. We have time.”

“But… But second babies tend to come faster. I read that in a book. How far apart are her contractions? If she’s not at the hospital, how wi ll she know if she’s dilating properly?

Has her water broken? If her water broke, she’s supposed to be at the hospital and lying down.

We don’t want a prolapsed cord. I read about that too.

Does her back hurt? It could mean the baby hasn’t turned.

Breech could mean a C-section. If she was at the hospital, they would be able to tell if—”

“Why don’t you call her? Maybe you’ll feel better after talking to her.”

He raked his fingers through his hair and spun in circles like he didn’t know where to go. “Where’s my phone?”

“On the coffee table. Check in with her, and if she’s still in the early stages, then we should probably figure out what to do about your case.”

His frantic look shifted. “Shit. My case.”

“Either we hand it off to someone now or keep going until she gets to the hospital. Either way, you need to call Edwards and let him know Jordyn will need backup soon.”

I could tell my husband was barely processing, so I snagged a belt loop and dragged him toward me, undoing his miss-buttoned pants.

“What are you doing? There’s no time for hanky-panky.”

I chuckled. “You’re a mess, hot stuff. I’m fixing you.” When the buttons were properly aligned, I pulled the T-shirt over his head, earning a sneer. “It’s inside out and backward. Relax.”

“Oh.”

With the shirt on correctly, I took his face between my palms. “Go call Bryn. Get an update and tell me what we’re doing. I’ll make coffee and breakfast to go.”

He nodded and aimed for the door, grabbing the hospital bag and car seat on his way downstairs.

I could have told him the carrier was unnecessary until we were ready to take the baby home.

I could have pointed out his hair was in disarray and his chin was scruffy.

I could have mentioned the shirt he’d put on was mine and advertised a band he loathed with every molecule of his body, but I didn’t.

None of it mattered. He was a man on the cusp of becoming a father for the first time.

The world would forgive his imperfections for a day.

I found him in the living room, pacing, hugging himself, and crying silent tears as he talked to Bryn. Oscar watched from his perch by the window, likely sensing a shift in the universe. The poor cat had no idea what was coming. A baby would disrupt his entire world.

Quaid’s frantic energy simmered. He was listening to Bryn, and that was for the best. He trusted her. Over the months of the pregnancy, Quaid had grown to love and care for Bryn like a sister, and it made me smile.

Heart full and warm, I headed to the kitchen and brewed coffee.

I sensed we had plenty of time, so I made fried eggs on English muffins—mushrooms and spinach on Quaid’s and extra cheese with salsa on mine—and wrapped them in foil, knowing my husband would want to hit the road the second he was off the phone.

Where we might be headed was anyone’s guess.

Bryn’s brother’s house? The hospital? Headquarters? The courthouse?

Thinking ahead, I considered what to do about the case. We were on the brink of discovery, and Jordyn couldn’t finish alone, not when we were juggling so many pieces. Maybe Ruiz would step in. He was trained even though he rarely worked in the field. Plus, he was familiar with the case.

Quaid appeared in the doorway as I filled two travel mugs with coffee.

He leaned against the frame. His color had returned to normal, eyes clearer.

“Her contractions are seven and a half minutes apart. She isn’t going to the hospital yet.

Iggy is home with her. No back pain. Her water is still intact. She’s resting while she can.”

“Are you calmer?”

He shrugged but nodded. The gesture wasn’t reassuring.

His mind was not in the game, and it would compromise his ability to work.

I knew without asking that his thoughts were miles from the case and swimming in facts and figures from the numerous labor and delivery textbooks he’d devoured these past couple of months.

“Call Edwards.”

“What? Why?”

“Tell him you need a replacement asap. Call Jordyn. Let her know what’s happening. Maybe Ruiz will give her a hand.”

He shook his head as I spoke. “No. No. I’m okay. I’ll tell Edwards that Jordyn needs backup, but I can keep going until Bryn calls.”

“Quaid—”

“I have to, Az. I can’t sit around here, or I’ll go crazy. I need a distraction, and I took this case. It’s my responsibility.”

“Fair enough, but can you focus?”

“Yes. I have to. Crowley needs me to.”

“Get your backup in order. We will have to bail at some point.”

While he called Edwards and Jordyn, I packed the hospital bag and car seat into the Equinox, directing Quaid to ride with me since I wasn’t sure his head was enough in the game to drive on his own.

Besides, we needed to stick together today.

I did not want us separated when the call came for us to head to the hospital.

I took us to Madison’s office while Quaid called Ruiz and his dad, informing them that Bryn was in labor. Ruiz, he explained, was already on his way to the office and promised to be there for Jordyn when the need arose.

“Should we call your parents and Amelia?” he asked when he hung up .

“Not yet. I value my sanity. My mother will get squirrelly, and I won’t be able to fend her off. We can update the family once we’re heading to the hospital.”

“Okay.” Quaid’s knee jittered as I drove.

“Jordyn is meeting us at the courthouse. She’ll take the warrant to the Davises and get Nixon’s cheek swab.

If Flynn stayed the night, she’ll get his, too.

She’ll hunt down Jude afterward. We’re to go directly to Benedict’s and see if we can figure out the secret behind the money. Swab him while we’re at it.”

“If he’s unwilling to share about the deposits, I say we drop off his test at the lab, head to the Walsh residence, and chat with Imogen’s mother. Didn’t you suspect she might know something about that money?”

“Yes.” Quaid checked his phone, bounced a knee, and gnawed a thumbnail before adding, “Edwards shared that Diane called headquarters yesterday and called us a bunch of incompetent idiots, asking why no one was doing anything about her missing daughter.”

I huffed a humorless laugh. “Her daughter isn’t missing. She took off under highly suspicious circumstances that surround her son’s abduction, and that places her in the role of suspect.”

“That’s what Edwards told her. She didn’t like that.”

“Fuck her. You caught yourself a bizarre case, hot stuff.”

“I know. Nothing is ever simple.”

Madison had signed all the warrants, including the orders to gather DNA samples from Flynn and Ronald. She’d penned a note and clipped it to the completed forms. It read, You’re taking advantage of my kindness, Doyle. I should have revoked two of these, but I didn’t. Remember that.

“Crap.” I chuckled, handing the forms to Quaid. “Any more favors, and I’m going to owe her a date. ”

“Ha ha.” He scanned the warrants, ignored the note, and handed the pertinent ones to Jordyn, who had arrived before us.

“Edwards said Ruiz is stepping in when you have to leave.” Jordyn eyed her partner with a scrutinous eye. “Is he familiar enough with MPU regulations?”

“Yes. He’ll give you one hundred and ten percent,” Quaid promised.

“Good. He’s meeting me at the Davises’, said he wants to get familiar with the people involved in the case.”

“If you want to keep Ruiz in line,” I said, “threaten to report all bad behavior to Quaid. The man would bend over for him in a heartbeat.”

Quaid’s sneer reached level ten. “He would not.”

“Yeah, maybe not, but only because the mere thought of having his back door breached squigs him out.”

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he muttered, still glaring.

“Often. Good thing the idea of having your back door breached turns you on.” I wiggled my brows.

Jordyn smacked my shoulder. “Stop being gross.”

As though noting Quaid’s clothing choice and unkempt hair for the first time, a quirk appeared in the corner of Jordyn’s lips as she scanned my deliciously disordered husband.

Considering she was usually as surly and snarly as Quaid, it was interesting when amusement snuck through her steel barricade.

“What?” Quaid frowned, narrowing his eyes at his partner’s scrutiny.

“You, um…” She studied the band shirt. “Nothing. You didn’t strike me as a Motorhead fan.”

Quaid audibly ground his teeth.

“It was a frantic morning,” I explained, licking my fingers and doing all I could to tame Quaid’s cowlick .

He dodged and swatted me away, scowling deeper. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to think back on the morning and tell me if you remember getting ready for work.”

Pink climbed Quaid’s neck and settled in his unshaven cheeks. He touched the front of his shirt self-consciously. “Shut up, both of you.” Then he stormed off toward the parking lot.