I slowly turned around, pushed Lilla’s hand away because she was so flustered she kept wiping at nothing, and I didn’t want Dano to notice. “Oh, hey. I’ll bring dinner. How’s that? Sure. I’ll bring the eats.”

That implied I’d cook it, but before I could clarify it’d be takeout, Dano agreed and hurried past us.

I flopped backward in my chair and said, “I have to call my mother to make my dinner.”

Lilla laughed, but I wasn’t feeling very jovial.

I sat in the back of #456 while Buzz drove at top speed. Premature labor. That was the call, and I prayed the baby would calm down and decide a Friday was not a good day to be born. Specifically this Friday.

At least I’d had some time to call Stella Sokol before we got the call. It took several minutes to clarify that I didn’t have time to stay and eat, but would she make me a take-out dinner for two? Mom made the same menu on the same day of the week forever. Even before I was born. That’s how far back forever went.

Since today was Friday, my mother was making potato pancakes. Not exactly a sensual gourmet aphrodisiac.

I looked up toward the window between the cab and the back of the ambulance and noticed Dano’s hair just about touching his neckline. Damn. He looked hot even from the back.

I really wished he wasn’t involved in the fraud or…gulp…the stabbings.

Relying on gut instinct had gotten me through years of nursing and saving lives. Right now my gut said Dano wasn’t involved. I decided I’d be looking for evidence to clear his name instead of convicting him.

And besides my gut-I had Jagger.

If he’d thought Dano was guilty or a threat, he wouldn’t let me go in alone. I’d convinced myself of that.

So, if he thought so, it would be revealed tonight, if Jagger showed up.

Dano had joined me in the back of the ambulance, since the patient really did appear to be in labor. Her husband was at work, so before we left, I had called him to tell him to meet us at Saint Greg’s while Dano and Buzz worked on Angie in her living room. We’d called the ER, gotten orders from Dr. Pringle and were now following them as best we could.

However, I knew these little ones could have a mind of their own.

Dano adjusted the IV while Buzz pulled the ambulance out of the parking lot of the condo complex where the woman, Angie, lived.

Her eyes glistened with tears as she looked up at Dano and asked, “Is my baby…my baby going to-”

Dano touched her arm. “Naw. I’m taking over. This kid is going to stop running the show and let us pros call the shots from now on.”

Tears formed in my eyes. Not only did the gruff, burned-out paramedic do his medical treatments to perfection, but also, when push came to shove, his bedside manner adjusted to meet the needs of, and to calm and relax, the patients. I could still hear the ER nurses fawning over how he always put in the IV with a saline lock, his paperwork was always in order and he taped the IV with a “V” shaped piece of tape-all of which made their jobs easier.

What a guy.

He couldn’t be involved. Just couldn’t be.

Angie smiled, and then grimaced. “Oh. Oh. Oh, God.”

“What?” Dano asked, feeling her abdomen and listening to the fetal heartbeat. He turned his head to the side, so she couldn’t hear, and cursed. “What is it, Angie?”

“I think, well, I’ve never had a baby before, but I think my water broke.”

Dano and I looked at each other. I’m sure a similar curse word came to both of our minds, but we held back.

Dano banged on the window to Buzz. “Step on it!”

“Right, boss,” he said, and swerved so hard, I toppled into Dano’s shoulder.

But neither of us could say a thing because, with Dano’s hand still on Angie’s abdomen, and with her facial expression, I knew she was heavily contracting.

Just like I knew this baby was going to be born today-soon.

“Hold on, honey.” Dano assured Angie.

She looked from him to me and said, “I can’t.”

Dano kept talking softly to her, getting her to pant through contractions so she wouldn’t push, and checking the fetal heartbeat.

I examined her to see if there was any sign of the baby and looked up at Dano.

“Black hair,” I said so only he could hear. “I see a bit of head crowning.”

“Shit,” he mouthed and before I knew it, he was banging on the window ordering Buzz Lightyear to pull over to the side of the road.

And then the fun began.

Buzz hurried to the back of the ambulance, but it proved to be too close quarters for him to get near Angie too. Besides, Dano said there wasn’t anything for him to do other than radio the hospital and be the go-between.

At first Buzz looked pissed. I guessed he wanted in on the excitement of a delivery, but since I’d worked OB for many years, Dano kept me assisting.

I followed his instructions of what to grab from where. Although I’d been in delivery for hundreds of babies, I didn’t know the setup of the ambulance well enough yet, and this little one might be way too little without any NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) equipment or staff here.

The only thing going for us was that Angie’s abdomen was a good size, so I silently prayed her calculated date wasn’t correct, and the baby would have already developed lungs enough to survive.

Please, Saint Theresa.

“Angie,” I asked, “who is your doctor?”

“Greenberg,” she managed through heavy breaths.

I wrinkled my forehead and looked at Dano. Dr. Greenberg was a general practitioner and not even in a family practice business. “I mean your OB doctor, hon. Who has been seeing you since you became pregnant?”

Angie’s eyes spilled over. “My husband lost his job and we didn’t have any insurance. We couldn’t afford it. So-”

I patted her hand. “No problem. This little one is going to be fine,” I lied. Geez. She didn’t have any prenatal care, went into premature labor (maybe) and couldn’t afford the impending hospital bills or this ambulance ride to boot.

Damn insurance again.

Buzz had stayed outside the back door to direct traffic away and prevent rubbernecking. He’d pulled the ambulance into a scenic overlook off the highway, but cars still slowed when they noticed us. Every once in a while he’d come to the door and ask how things were going until Dano growled at him that we’d let him know when we needed to.

Angie began to scream.

Dano lifted the blankets from her, and we both looked to see the black hair very obvious now. I thought the head looked much bigger than a preemie’s and again hoped Angie had been wrong on her due date.

“It looks a decent size,” I whispered to him, close to his ear as a matter of fact, since Angie was now in such pain and yelling.

“Let’s hope,” he added.

Dano explained to Angie that we couldn’t give her anything for pain and instructed her again on breathing. I stuck on a pair of rubber gloves and assisted Dano as he told me what to do.

Even though I handled emergencies very well, he had a way of calming me, and thank goodness it also worked on Angie. Her hysteria turned into compliance and she followed his instructions.

“I want my baby to live,” she repeated several times.

I winked at her. “It will. Don’t worry. Just do as we say and things will be fine.”

I looked down to see Dano grimace and wondered if his head hurt. Then I noticed the baby’s head was out-and the cord wrapped tightly around its neck.

Damn!

“Don’t push,” he ordered, and the seriousness in his voice had Angie panting instead.

“Good girl. That’s right. Don’t push right now,” I kept saying until Dano had the cord eased off from around the baby’s neck after several tugs.

“It has lots of black hair, Angie.” I smiled at her. “Does your husband have black hair?” I asked, to keep her mind off of things.