Justice Falling (Falling #3)(74)

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“Later, Tripp. We’ll talk,” I heard Camille say. Shite, I didn’t realize I was on speaker. Christ. I ruined it for her. She was going to be brassed off. I could see her withholding the bonking for the foreseeable future over this bloody mess-up.

“Shite, love. I’m sorry,” I spoke softly.

A commotion and a long groan was accompanied by a man’s girly scream. “She’s hurting me! Aspen, you’re f*cking hurting me!” I heard Oliver shout.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Aspen’s gone into labor. Her water broke, and we can’t get ahold of Hank. I need you to go get him and meet us at the hospital.”

I put on my blazer and shuffled the phone from ear to ear as I put on my coat. “Where is he?”

“He’s actually not far from your office.” She read off the name of the company. I pulled it up on my laptop and stuffed everything in my briefcase that I might have needed for the rest of the afternoon.

“Okay. Got it. I’ll get the bloke. We’ll meet you at the hospital. Tell the wee one to hold off until his Dad arrives!” A loud scream tore through the phone line.

“I gotta go.” Another loud moan tore through the phone. “Love you.”

“I love you,” I said and rang off.

I headed out of the office and ran into Collier. “Aspen’s in labor. Got to go find Hank across the way. Call London,” I said as the lift doors closed.

Collier didn’t ask how I knew Aspen was in labor or why I was the one running to get Hank. He just agreed. That’s the kind of partnership we had. Often times fewer words were better than a long rant.

In fifteen minutes I’d made it to the black glass building a few city blocks from ours, hopped on the lift and pressed floor twenty five. A text sounded on my phone. I pulled it out and read the screen.

From: Aspen Reynolds-Jensen

To: Nate Walker

Where the f*ck is the cowboy? Aspen’s killing me! We’ll be at Lenox Hill Hospital in ten.

It must have been Oliver. The lift doors opened and I figured I’d have Hank call as soon as I got him out of here. Quickly I found the right office and went to the receptionist. She was a mean looking woman. Thin, pinched, tight skin sucked her face like fondant over a skeleton. Her sharp blond bob and blood red lipstick added to her fierce features.

She talked as I paced. Finally, I put my hand over the button on her phone cutting off her call. “I need Hank Jensen. Now!” I growled, leaving no room for argument. Her entire face frowned. I didn’t think it was possible, but I guess if you’re a woman made of plastic, using one muscle pushes them all into motion. “Look, he’s in a meeting here somewhere and his wife is in labor. She’s on her way to the hospital. Can you help me or do I need to cause a f*cking scene?”

Her face lightened a speck, a barely noticeable twitch. “Come with me.” She scowled then stood and walked on the highest spiked heels I’d seen this side of a strip club.

She knocked on a door and waited, then pressed her ear to the door.

“Oh sodding hell.” I gripped the handle and opened the door. Four men in suits and my man, Hank Jensen, turned their heads from the giant LCD screen and projector.

“Nate, partner?”

“We gotta go. Your wife is on her way to Lenox Hill Hospital. She’s in labor!”

Hank didn’t bother to say anything to the people in the room. “It’s too early! She’s not due for another month.” His voice sounded frightened.

“I know. Let’s go.”

We made it into a taxi in record time. Hank dialed his wife and Oliver must have picked up.

“Buddy, no, I can’t understand you. Fucking hell! Give me my wife. She’s what? Jesus, give me Cami then.”

“What’s going on, Cami?” He must have got my girl on the phone. He blew out a slow breath. “Okay, water broke, dilated to a six and eighty percent effaced.” Hank pushed a rushed hand through his sandy hair. Tension filled every surface of his face and body. “What’s the doctor say?” He took a deep breath and leaned his head back on the car seat. “We’ll be there in twenty. Stay with my girl. Ollie loves her, but he’s a f*cking drama queen. Take care of her ‘till I get there. Okay, sweetie?”

For a moment my hackles rose at his endearment but I knew Hank and his heart. He genuinely cared for Camille and I’d heard him call London sweetie as well. It was his old-fashioned, Texan nature. They seemed to have the honey, baby, sweetie thing down pat.

He hung up and smacked a heavy hand against the seat back. “Get us to the hospital in ten minutes and there’s an extra hundred bucks in it for ya.” Hank said to the driver. “Got me?”

“You got it, Mister!” The young looking bloke pressed his foot on the gas.

In ten minutes flat, we were in front of the hospital. Hank threw a hundred and thirty bucks to the driver, probably making his day. We ran into the hospital and asked for labor and delivery.

I’d never run through a hospital so fast in my life, including seven months ago when my own brother was admitted. People only did this shite in the movies. Not Hank. He ran those stark white halls like a man running over hot coals. I wasn’t sure his feet hit the ground. I could barely keep up with him.