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“It’s all good, they’re almost home.”
Mandy released a sigh of relief not realizing she’d been so tense.
The doorbell rang and Boa’s head shot up.
“It’s probably the pizza.”
Boa pointed this thick finger at her. “Stay put. I’ll get it.”
Mandy pulled a face convinced Boa was taking his job a bit too seriously. She sincerely doubted Carl, the nerdy, pizza delivery guy, yes, she knew his name and yes getting pizza delivered at nine at night had become a thing since her last trimester. Anyway, she doubted Carl could be involved in any drama concerning Mamba or the Serpents.
Boa moved to the front door, peeked through the peephole, then ordered. “Leave it on the stoop.” A few seconds later, Boa flipped the deadbolt and opened the door.
Mandy pushed off the couch struggling against her large belly and went into the kitchen to retrieve plates and napkins. The door banged open, then something hit the floor followed by the scuffling of feet. She entered the hallway leading to the front door just as Boa stumbled forward. She thought he tripped until two masked men, dressed in black, charged forward.
12
Mandy’s seconds of shock allowed them to step over an unconscious Boa and bolt into the foyer. The plates crashed to the tile floor and Mandy ran toward the stairs on her left. Her heart ratcheted against her ribs as her feet pounded the stairs desperate to keep her balance. Someone grabbed her foot and she fell forward. She braced her hands against the stairs and kicked them away then scrambled up a few more stairs digging in with her hands and feet.
“Get the bitch,” one of the masked men shouted.
Mandy reached the top of the stairs and faltered into the banister. The masked asshole grabbed at her ankle and yanked. She turned her body at the last second to shield the baby landing with a whoosh on her shoulder. Pain radiated down her arm, but she somehow pushed herself up on her hands and knees. She grappled against the carpet struggling to break the vice hold he had on her lower leg. His partner joined him grabbing her from behind and hoisting her to a standing position. She flailed her arms attempting to break free, but he easily held her.
The other guy raised his muscled arm, and Mandy pleaded, “Please don’t hurt my baby.”
Heavy footsteps thundered behind them as Boa vaulted up the stairs.
The guy holding her loosened his grip for a split second and Mandy elbowed him hard in the ribs. She twisted out of his hold, raced through her bedroom and into the bathroom where she slammed and locked the door. She listened through the door, all her senses on point, her breathing wheezing in and out of her lungs.
When the first contraction tore through her, it doubled her over. She tried to recover but a second later another spasm ripped across her abdomen stronger than the first. She cradled her belly and leaned on the sink, but when the next one came it brought her to her knees. Each one faster and harder than the last. She was both amazed and terrified at the powerful force tearing through her body. She was unable to stop it or control it. The contractions absorbed her—there was no turning back.
Before the next contraction Mandy pushed off her sweatpants and panties throwing them aside. Then she pulled the bath towels off their rack and gathered them on the tile. On the next contraction, her body automatically folded into itself until she was on her side in the fetal position. Her legs drawn up her hands anchored on her knees. She blocked out the thumps and shouts and perhaps a gunshot in the upstairs hall concentrating only on herself and her baby. She prayed against all odds she had the strength to save her newborn.
Her abdomen rolled and convulsed on its own. She tried to pant and do her breathing exercises but it was no match for the force of nature. The overwhelming sensation to push surpassed all else. She twisted her body and leaned up on her elbows unable to halt the process as her body shuddered and shook. She hunched her back, looped her arms behind her thighs and pushed with all her might. The intense pressure continued and her body bared down again, this time harder, stronger until the extreme pain subsided.
Mandy pushed herself into a sitting position and gazed down at her baby girl. Her dark hair matted with mucus, her little arms and legs flailing seconds before she let out a squawk. Mandy grabbed for one of the towels, wrapped it around the baby, then cuddled her to her chest.
A second later, the room spun and she was surrounded by darkness.
* * *
Mamba chargedthrough the open front door of his house and surveyed the damages. One guy dressed in black was splayed across the foyer with a bullet in his neck, but no sign of Mandy. Mamba sprinted up the steps two at a time and found another guy unconscious in the upstairs hallway. Where the fuck was Mandy?
“Boa?” Mamba yelled.
“In here!” Boa shouted from the master bedroom.
Mamba barreled through the bedroom and into the bathroom. He stopped short at the sight of Boa crouched down next to an unconscious Mandy clutching their baby to her chest. Red blood grotesquely smeared over the white tile floor—taunting him—filling him with guilt and fear.
Mamba fell to her side and cradled her head in his palm swallowing the lump in his throat. His chest tightened making words impossible.
“I called 911,” Boa gripped Mamba’s shoulder. “Her pulse is weak, but the baby seems fine.”
Mamba gently pulled back the bloody towel and stared into the face of his daughter. The need to protect and save them squeezed his gut.
Mamba leaned into Mandy. “You did good, baby. So good.” He stroked her sweat drenched hair away from her face hoping with everything in him that she’d open her eyes. He hovered closer gently touching his lips to hers, but nothing.
“Don’t leave me, baby.” His throat tightened to the point of pain. “Don’t you dare leave me. Not now, not—” His throat constricted and his words were lost.
