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Mamba’s chest vibrated from the boom of another explosion within the shop. He squeezed his eyes shut and silently prayed to whoever might still be listening to save his girl. Nobody so good and innocent deserved to go this way—him burning in a fiery hell, absolutely—but not her, not his Mandy.
CHAPTERTWENTY
Like something out of a sci-fi movie, a firefighter emerged through the swirling smoke cradling Mandy in his arms. His size and the bulk of his gear dwarfed her small, delicate body. He reached out for her, but the fireman rushed past him and headed for the ambulance at the curb.
Mamba fell into step with him. “How is she?
“She’s inhaled a lot of smoke and needs medical attention, stat.”
The paramedics took over when they reached the ambulance, laying Mandy on a gurney, surrounding her as they shouted words and phrases he didn’t understand.
“Let me see her.” Mamba pushed one of them aside and stilled. Black soot covered her sickly pale skin. They’d already strapped an oxygen mask to her face, so it was impossible to see if she was conscious.
“Sir, you’ll have to step aside.”
“Is she conscious? Is she—”
“Sir, please let us do our job.” Another woman strong-armed him away from Mandy’s side. “Did you get this gash inside the building?”
“What?” The paramedic motioned to his slashed bicep.
“No, it’s nothing.”
“Come over here, and let me look at it.” She guided him to the other ambulance.
“I said it’s nothing.” Mamba tugged his arm free. “I ain’t leaving her.”
Cobra and Joker flanked him on each side.
“How’s she doin’?” Joker asked.
“Nobody knows. They got an oxygen mask on her.”
“She’s in the best hands,” the paramedic interjected as she threw not-so-subtle glances at Cobra and Joker’s cuts, then back to Mamba. “Why don’t you let them do their job, and I’ll take care of you.”
“I don’t give a fuck about me.”
“When you collapse from blood loss, you won’t be any good to her or anyone else.” The paramedic opened up a large plastic case in the back of the truck and began cleaning his arm.
“Quit givin’ her shit, and let the woman do her job,” Cobra ordered, then leaned in and mumbled something to Joker. The two men exchanged a look and turned back to Mamba.
“We’re gonna head out and check around. See what’s goin’ on.”
That was code for meeting at the Gold Mine to evaluate the damages and keep eyes on the Marauders.
“Why don’t you tell me how this happened?” The paramedic nodded to his bicep.
“I ran into a door.” Mamba pulled a face, and the paramedic smirked.
“Not likely. I’d say someone slashed you with a very sharp blade.”
“I’m impressed.” Mamba winced when she poured an antibacterial solution over the wound.
“Not that impressive when you’ve been working in a city this size for the last six years.”
“Yeah, I guess you see it all.”
“And some things I’d like tounsee, but it’s all part of the job.” She rummaged through the first aid kit again. “You need stitches, but we’ll have to do that at the hospital.”
