Meant to Be Immortal (Argeneau #32) - Lynsay Sands Page 0,119

large stomach, a grimace of pain on her face. Struggling to draw breath into her lungs, CJ eyed her worriedly for a moment, and then closed her eyes briefly before opening them again to gape down at her chest. There was so much blood, and the hole was huge. It— Wait, that wasn’t a hole, she realized as she was finally able to take a breath. It was the button of her shirt. She’d pulled on a casual white shirt with black buttons as large as quarters on it that morning.

Managing another labored breath, CJ pulled the material of the top of the blouse away from her skin and peered down at her chest beneath the cloth. Blood had soaked through, and painted her bra and chest red, but there was no wound that could have caused it. No reason for her to have had trouble breathing even. She must have had the wind knocked out of her when she’d hit the floor, CJ thought.

“But then where did the blood come from?” she muttered, and then realization struck and she turned sharply to Mac. He was lying facedown next to her, completely still. She couldn’t even see a hint of movement to suggest he was breathing.

Dragging herself upright, she grasped his shoulder and pulled him over onto his side and then onto his back and stared with dismay. Mac’s face was pale, and like her, his chest was blood soaked, but with his own blood. Obviously, the large dark red stain on her top had been transferral, because he really did have a hole in the center of his chest and there was no mistaking it. T-shirts didn’t have big black buttons on them.

Cursing, CJ staggered to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom for a towel and rushed back.

“Mac?” she said shakily as she dropped to her knees and pressed the towel to his wound. “Stay with me, honey. It’s going to be all right. Mac?”

When he groaned, his eyelids flickering, CJ could have wept with relief. He looked so pale and there was so much blood that for a minute she’d feared she’d already lost him. Pressing more firmly down on his wound, she looked around.

Julius had shifted Marguerite out of the doorway and was on his haunches next to where she sat on the floor, leaning against the wall. Her knees were up and spread, the skirt of her dress draping between them as she leaned forward between her knees, clutching her stomach and panting.

Good Lord, it looked like Marguerite was in labor, CJ thought, but was quite sure it was too early for that. By at least three months, but possibly by as much as four months. Damn Jefferson! If Marguerite lost her baby because of him—

“Has someone called an ambulance?” she asked anxiously, her gaze moving back to Mac.

“On it.” Decker’s answer drew her attention to the fact that he was standing with a cell phone to his ear next to where Bricker had Jefferson flat out on the floor. With nothing to tie up the officer, Justin was sitting on the man, holding both of his hands in one of his and glancing from Mac to Marguerite with worry.

“Did you hear that, Mac?” CJ said, bending to press a kiss to his cheek. “Help is on the way. Please hold on. Don’t die on me. Please,” she begged, her voice cracking.

“Help is on the way, Aunt Marguerite,” Decker said reassuringly a moment later. “Just hang in there.”

CJ glanced around to see him putting his phone away, and then looked at Marguerite again when she moaned. The woman was clutching her stomach protectively and rocking where she sat, her face contorted with pain and worry.

“Just breathe and try to relax, mi amata. It is your upset causing this. It is too early for the baby to come. You need to try to relax,” Julius said anxiously, brushing strands of her long hair off her face with the hand that wasn’t clasping hers. “Breathe with me.”

CJ watched with concern as Marguerite struggled to calm her breathing, and then turned her attention back to Mac and lifted the towel to see if the bleeding had slowed at all. But it was hard to see anything with the shirt in the way. Biting her lip, CJ hesitated, and then yanked his T-shirt up to get a better look at the wound. She had to wipe away the blood left behind from where it had soaked into the shirt,