Rafe dismissed that with a scowl. “Jarrod, I think she said his name was. He’d be the best one to see to her if he’s home. If not, then we’ll go with 911.”
Luke Jarrod had been a physician long enough to recognize panic when it flashed in a man’s eyes—even a buttoned-up government type carrying a badge and an official looking ID.
He’d been settled deep in the ancient recliner Maddy considered mud ugly but grudgingly permitted house room, with his sleeping son curled like an exhausted angel in his lap, watching the Mariners play the Yankees when the guy had rung the bell.
While the agent paced the front walk, he’d tucked Ollie into his crib, kissed his sleeping wife on her cheek, and then because he never forgot to be grateful she was in his life again, kissed her one more time before collecting his bag from the closet shelf and hauled ass.
Knowing his Maddy girl the way he did, it was a pretty good bet she’d be spitting cat furious when she found out he hadn’t roused her to help out a fellow member of the Mommy Brigade. He hated it when he had to play the tough guy, but he’d deal with it.
After nursing a cranky two-year-old through his first bout of the flu, she’d come down with it herself. The worst was over, but both needed their rest, and he was just the man to see they got it.
A sliver of lingering blue sky rode over the growing twilight to the west as he cut across Morgan’s prized lawn, the preppy agent with the Yankee blue-blood name a half-stride behind. The guy’s ID looked genuine, but what did he know about government agencies? Now, the nine-millimeter pistol he’d seen when the guy’s coat flapped open, that was about as real as real got these days.
Not a suspicious man by nature, Luke had become intensely protective of Danni and her daughter. The other guys of the Row felt the same way. Though no one said the words out loud, each was privately hoping he’d be the first one to lay eyes on that bastard Sommerset if he dared show his face.
As soon as he got her checked out, he intended to give Case a quick call and ask him to use his cop’s connections to find out what was going on. Right now, though, Danni needed his professional expertise more than she needed a surrogate big brother.
By the time Luke bounded up the front steps of the Paxton place, he’d run through everything he had retained from the notes he’d taken during Danni’s last few visits.
Nineteen weeks gestation, no abnormalities, good fetal heart sounds, due for an ultrasound on her next visit. Other than frequent bouts of morning sickness, it had been a routine pregnancy.
“Door’s unlocked, Doc,” Gresham said quickly, but Luke had already shoved it open.
Inside, a tall, superbly built man in his late thirties, early forties stood guard over the sofa where Danni lay unmoving. As Luke had entered, one large hand had gone instinctively to the weapon riding on his hip before his piercing green eyes had spied the medical bag.
“Dr. Jarrod?”
Luke was neither surprised nor intimidated by the brusque tone. A man accustomed to command was a controlled man, and a controlled man was a useful ally if things turned sour.
“I’m Jarrod,” he said, clipping his own words. “Who are you?”
“Rafael Cardoza.”
Neither wasted time on a handshake.
“What have you done for her so far?”
Guarded green eyes cut back to the sofa. “Nothing other than the cold compress on her head.”
“Did she complain of pain in her head?” Luke asked quickly.
“No, she just said she was feeling woozy, then went out fast.” He flicked a glance toward his partner who confirmed his account.
“She did look a little green before the lights went out.”
“Is it serious, do you think?” Agent Cardoza asked tersely.
“Too soon to tell.” Luke set his bag on the coffee table, then went into the kitchen to wash his hands.
“She spent a lot of time in the can throwing up,” Cardoza told him when he returned. “Wouldn’t let me in to check on her.”
“Any idea when she ate last?”
“No. She had some tea.” His gaze touched the mug on the coffee table.
As Luke listened to Danni’s heart, he felt those eyes boring into his back. “Has she showed signs of coming around?” he asked as he slipped the stethoscope beneath her shirt to listen to the baby’s heart.
“Her lashes fluttered and she moved some when I put her down. Since then, nothing.”
Danni’s heart rate was steady and strong, but faster than he would have liked. The baby’s rate, though, was smack in the safe range. He checked her pupils, then reached into his bag for the electronic thermometer that was God’s gift to overworked doctors and nurses.
He frowned at the read-out—101.6.
Mentally reviewing his findings, he returned the thermometer to his bag, then turned to face the silent agent. “Give me a rundown on what was going on before she passed out.”
With an economy of words that Luke appreciated, the agent systematically chronicled the events leading to Danni’s collapse. “Since she hadn’t complained of pain and didn’t seem to be having contractions or hemorrhaging, I figured she’d rather have you look her over.”
The reasoning was flawless—and surprisingly intuitive. Either the man had medical training or he had more than a nodding familiarity with expectant moms. “Do you have children of your own, Agent?” he probed.
“No children, but I helped raise my five brothers and sisters.”
“I figured you must have had some experience with pregnant ladies.”
Cardoza smiled briefly. “Just my mother. Probably forgot more than I remember, though.”
“Remembered enough to check for serious problems, which is the important thing.” Luke knelt again and touched Danni’s cheek.
“Danni, can you hear me? It’s Luke.”
She frowned, then licked her lips. “Mmm.”
“Danni, open your eyes, okay?” He took her hand and rubbed her wrist.
“What’s wrong with her?” Cardoza demanded, his voice gruff.
“Flu, combined with overwork, I suspect.”
“Is it serious?”
“Can be, if it leads to complications. Danni’s basically healthy, but stress can wear down even the healthiest person.” Reluctantly, he dug into his bag for an ampoule of ammonium carbonate.
Instantly, Cardoza went on alert. “What’s that?”
“Smelling salts,” he said as he broke it open. As soon as he waved it under Danni’s nose, she screwed her face into a knot and jerked her head to the side. Her lashes fluttered, then lifted.
“Luke?” she asked drowsily. “What…is it the baby? Oh my God—”
Luke rested a hand on her shoulder. “Easy, Danni,” he said in a soothing tone. “The baby’s fine. You just fainted, that’s all.”
Still disoriented, she lifted a curious hand to her forehead and frowned when her fingers encountered the folded dish-towel. “What’s this for?”
“That stubborn head of yours,” Luke said, his voice as stern as he could make it which, he had to admit, bordered on scary when he really concentrated.
Annoyed at the rebuke, Danni turned her head too fast and cried out at the sharp biting pain behind her eyes.
“Headache?”