Bloodlines: Sin City Outlaws (Book #5)

by Forgy, M. N.

  Inside the hospital, a whoosh of air from the opening doors blows my sweaty hair from my face, the smell of stale hospital food and anesthetic filling my lungs.

  A young nurse runs to us, a stethoscope bobbing around her neck.

  “How far apart are the contractions?” she asks.

  Another nurse brings a silver and blue wheelchair and Mac sets me in it, pulling out his phone.

  “Five minutes apart,” he informs.

  “OK, so about five minutes,” the nurse mutters.

  “No! I said five minutes, and that’s what it is!” Mac corrects sharply, and the nurse looks at him like he’s lost his mind, but I have to keep from smiling.

  “Easy brother.” Machete rests his hand on Mac’s shoulder.

  “What’s – what’s your name?” The nurse shakes her head from Mac’s outburst and readies her pen on a clipboard.

  “Simone Ray,” I grit through a contraction, my nails piercing the rails of the wheelchair. Closing my eyes, I try to breathe through it, but I’m going to call bullshit on this whole breathe through the pain crap. It’s not working, and the pain is getting so much worse I’m about to hurt someone.

  “How far along are you dear?” the young nurse asks me.

  “Uh, thirty weeks.” I have to think as the pain nailing me in the stomach is distracting. I open my eyes, looking at the woman with dark curly hair and bright red lipstick. Her face pale as she stares back at me.

  “That’s early.” She blinks at me as if I have all the answers as to why I’m having the baby pre-mature, but I don’t. In fact, her blank stare only makes me terrified that something is going to go wrong.

  Mac steps in front of me, my shield from horror. “Yeah, so let’s do something about it besides stand here and stare!” Mac barks, making the nurse jump in her place.

  “Right, call the doctor,” she tells the front desk. “And let’s get her hooked up to see where we are.” The nurse starts to push me away from the group and I drop the button and reach for Mac’s hand. I don’t want him to be far, I need him close. He grips my hand and doesn’t let go.

  We’re pushed into a small room down the hall. There’s a bed, machines along the wall, and on the right side of the room there are two windows overlooking the parking garage. Mac helps me onto the bed with stiff white sheets, and nurses from all over hook me up to wires and devices. It’s as if everything moves in slow motion as they undress me and run about the room getting me ready for the doctor. But, my hand stays in Mac’s the whole time, our eyes never breaking.

  “I’m scared,” I mouth. It’s too early, what if she’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?

  He drops to his knees, his chin resting on our locked hands.

  “Everything is going to be fine. I know it, you have to believe it too. Little Peach is going to be just fine, and so are you.” He squeezes my hand, his fierce eyes looking darker than ever. As if the fire in his eyes has been doused and ashes float about his irises. He’s scared something is going to happen to me or the baby and to be honest, I am too.

  “So, you’re just shy of eight months?” a male voice asks entering the room.

  Looking to the door a man with thinning hair and a white coat looks at the chart the nurses have put together.

  I nod, my stomach tightening with another contraction. Pursing my lips, I blow a breath of air and try not to rip Mac’s fingers apart.

  The doctor scratches his wrinkled face, his dim blue eyes shining with concern. My heart skips a beat, this isn’t good. I shouldn’t be in labor.

  “Ok, let’s see what we have.” He grabs a stool in the corner and positions himself between my legs. Shifting on my back, I stare at the ceiling lined with tiles. I hope he can’t tell I had sex not but a few hours ago. Wait, is that what made me go into labor? “Bend your knees, placing your feet at the end of the bed,” he instructs, interrupting my thoughts.

  Clearing my throat, I do as I’m told, my sweaty palm squeezing Mac’s. The doctor inserts his fingers, and it takes everything I have not to push. Squeezing my eyes to the point I see swirls of colors, I wait for him to pull his fingers out of my cervix.

  “You are one-hundred percent effaced, and fully dilated, dear.” His words make my chest sink with more fear than I can take in.

  “What does that mean? Can we stop the labor?” My voice wavers, but I know the answer to my question based off the books I’ve been reading. I’m having this baby early.

  “I’m afraid not.” He shakes his head, a nurse steps up beside him helping place gloves on each of his hands.

  He confirms my fears, pending doom makes my heart race, my eyes filling with warm tears.

  Suddenly a very sharp pain squeezes my entire stomach, as if Freddy Krueger himself is inside my uterus clawing to get out.

  “OH MY GOD GET IT OUT!” I scream, my face red, and eyes as wide as saucers. “Give me some medicine for the pain. I need it. Get it,” I demand, snapping my fingers. My whole body slicked in a cold sweat and my hips are numb from so much agony.

  “Simone, it’s too late for that, I need you to sit up, okay?” His controlled voice is not helping me panic any less.

  I glance at Mac, and he’s already helping me sit up before I can silently consult with him about what we should do.

  “OK, I need you to give me a couple of big pushes.” The doctor rests his hands on my knees, focusing on my vagina.

  “Wait, it’s too soon to push. These things take hours. I read that.” I shake my head, needing more time. This is moving too soon. Too fast.

  Suddenly another sharp pain slices through me, cutting my excuses off. My hips bare down, and I push without me even having to think about it.

  “Yeah, not happening tonight, dear. We’re having this baby now. Now push harder!”

  Squeezing Mac’s hand like a vise, I push so hard my toes curl into the bed. Sweat drips down my face, and my pelvis feels like it’s being ripped apart. Out of breath, I relax, panting for air. I can’t push another second.

  “I can’t breathe, I can’t catch my breath. It’s so hot in here.”

  “You’re doing great!” Mac encourages, his face pale as he dabs my forehead with a white cloth. Where’d he get that?

  “Oh yeah, if I’m doing so great she’d be out!” I snap at him, pushing my hair from my face. I can’t do this, it hurts so fucking bad. I feel like my pelvis is a wishbone at Thanksgiving dinner.

  Mac presses his lips to my temple and kisses me, his mouth lingering on my skin. That one kiss brings me back down to earth, and I finally take the breath I’ve been needing.

  “OK, one last push Simone, and you get to meet your baby girl.”

  This is it, the moment I’ve been waiting for. This moment is the one that has led everyone here, and even people I care about to their death. My heart aches thinking about Gatz and Kane. They lost their lives for this little girl’s first breath, and it will not go in vain. I can do this. I will have this baby, and she will be beautiful, smart, and loved more than anything.

  This little girl was the best thing I ever did for myself. She made me a mother and a warrior. She’s stopping the wave of falling dominos and giving us a new life.

  Then again, I wouldn’t have come to this point without Mac. He’s cared for us both, protected us, and loved us. He’s put himself before his club, and himself. I trust him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. We need him in our new life, to show us the path of being strong, and free-willed.

  “Yes.” I nod. Mac looks at me with bewilderment.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Yes, I’ll be your ol’ lady. We’ll be your girls.” I smile, and Mac smirks the most handsome, sexiest, mischievous grin I’ve ever seen.

  Making me and my baby girl his is the best thing I could do for us.

  “Let’s do this, babe.” He presses a chaste kiss to my cheek, and I nod in agreement.

  “Come on, Momma, let’s push!” the doctor hollers, tapping my leg.

 
Taking a big breath, tears streaming down my face. I push, I push so hard I see stars, my legs shake, searing pain slices through my pelvis, and all of a sudden, a huge relief pulls from my insides and I fall back onto the bed out of breath.

  The sound of the cutest girly cry fills the room, and I can’t stop the tears from falling down my cheeks.

  “Oh, she is beautiful, Momma!” the doctor congratulates. My eyes hazy, I breathe in, but it’s shallow and not quite filling my chest. I try again but feel nothing but a burn in my lungs.

  “Simone?” Mac is in my vision, but he’s blurry and unfocused.

  “Something… something’s wrong,” I whisper, gasping.

  “Ok, Mom’s in distress, I need you to step back, Dad.” The doctor pushes Mac out of my face, and I hear metal falling to the ground. A table being knocked over, and commotion all around me. A nurse puts a clear mask on my face, pumping oxygen as fast as she can, and suddenly the doctor is yelling, “She’s losing blood!”

  I reach out, wanting Mac’s hand. Needing it to bring me back down to earth but feel nothing but air. “She needs her daddy, where’s Mac,” I say into the oxygen mask, half conscious. But nobody answers me. Everyone’s moving around, panicking and I can’t move, or can’t think. There’s nothing, and I slip into a blanket of darkness.

  23

  Mac

  I’m shoved into the hallway by two nurses trying to explain to me why I need to be out here instead of in there with Simone, but I can’t hear them. I’m unhinged and on a mission to get back to Simone’s side. If I’m in there, I can protect her. Why I think that, I don’t know, I have no experience in medical. I just need to be beside her.

  I shove at them, trying to get back to her but as soon as I get rid of one woman, the other is in my face.

  Roaring like a lion whose lioness has been taken from him by a headhunter, I jerk and thrust my hands through the nurses. Determined to get to Simone even if I have to hurt someone. I promised her I’d be by her side.

  “Brother!” Zeek’s voice cuts through the chaos, and I freeze. His voice grounding me back to the reality of where the fuck I am. My head trembles with emotion racing through me like poison.

  “I’m going to call security if you can’t get ahold of yourself, sir!” a young nurse with black hair hollers in my face. My eyes fall to hers, then her name tag.

  “Shelly, fuck you,” I push through gritted teeth. Her eyes widen, mouth parting at my crude behavior.

  “That’s not necessary, we got him,” Machete informs, stepping in between me and the nurse. Shelly shakes her head and hurries back inside to Simone.

  Machete turns, eyeing me warily. “What the hell has gotten into you? They’re trying to help her!”

  “Oh fuck her!” I wave him off. “She’s acting superior because she got on a pair of fucking scrubs. I need to be in there with Simone, what if she dies like my mother and I’m not there!” I point at the doors, and by the blank stare on everyone’s faces, I realize what I’ve just said.

  “Fuck,” I mumble, hanging my head.

  “You need to let them do whatever they need, especially if there’s a problem,” Zeek states, patting my shoulder. Glaring in his direction, I shake my hands out, the ache to slam them into something itching up my wrists.

  “She’s not your mom, she’s going to be fine,” Zeek whispers, and I close my eyes. I’m trying to believe him, but it’s hard to when I feel like everything bad in my life is due to me ever being born. Ever since I was a little kid I’ve had it in my head that maybe if my father was by my mother’s side when she gave birth… she’d still be alive. Crazy, I know.

  “Come on, let’s get some coffee or something while we wait for an update,” Machete suggests, and I refuse. I’m not leaving this fucking spot.

  “The last thing he needs is caffeine.” Zeek narrows his eyes at me, and I return the fuck you look.

  Instead, I pace outside the doors to Simone’s room, my hands pulling at my hair, fidgeting. It’s taking too long. Something is wrong. I should go in there.

  “What’s taking so fucking long?” I holler at Zeek who is looking a housekeeping magazine over. He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it. Nothing he has to say is going to calm me down, and he knows it.

  “I’ve never seen him like this, should we do something?” Raven whispers to Machete, but she sucks at keeping a low voice because I hear every word.

  “Yeah, give him a tranquilizer dart in the ass cheek,” Machete scoffs, his arms crossed while glaring at me.

  I shouldn’t have claimed her, this is my fault for getting too close. I’m bad luck.

  “I know what you’re thinking, and stop,” Zeek interrupts my thoughts. My boots screech to a stop, and I scowl.

  “You don’t know shit,” I sneer.

  “You’re thinking about your mother again.” His face softens, and the back of my neck begins to sweat. How can I not think about my mother at a time like this.

  “What happened to your mother?” Raven asks from a waiting room chair, a cup of coffee balancing on her knee.

  I shake my head. “Nothing.” Nobody needs to know my sob story, it doesn’t change anything. I’m bad luck, it’s in my DNA. Period.

  Zeek sighs, pushing himself off the brick wall of the hospital. He grabs me by the shoulder and pulls me in close. His fingers digging into my leather cut.

  “We all have been where you are, maybe not in this particular situation, but the place where we don’t think we deserve anything good.”

  Scratching my forehead, I close my eyes.

  “You’re starting to sound like Raven,” I sigh.

  “Well, then she’s one smart bitch.” Thumb and finger rubbing the stubble on my cheeks, I exhale.

  Does an outlaw ever deserve anything good? An outcast that breaks all the rules is bound to have karma breathing down their neck, waiting for the moment to hurt them at their weakest point.

  Finally, the doctor steps out of the room, his coat covered in blood and my knees suddenly feel weak at the sight of it. I’ve never felt ill at the sight of blood, but right now I feel like I might faint.

  “You’re the dad?” He looks to me. Everyone looks to me, waiting for me to claim Simone and the baby publicly.

  “Yeah,” I reply, my eyes watery.

  Zeek’s eyes widen.

  “The baby is fine, she’s a tough little thing. Her stats are near perfect and I’ve seen babies full term come lesser than her—”

  “And Simone?” I interrupt.

  “Simone has lost a lot of blood due to a placental abruption. We had to do a blood transfusion, and stabilize her, but she’s doing okay. We’re keeping a close eye on her right now,” he explains, but he might as well be speaking Spanish.

  “Placental abruption?” I ask, not sure what the fuck that is.

  “It’s where the placenta detaches from the uterine wall early and causes bleeding. We have the bleeding under control right now, but if it doesn’t stop, we will have to remove the uterus. A hysterectomy.”

  I turn, my hand on my forehead as the strangest sound spills from my lips. Relief and heartache rolled into one sigh. She’s okay but may never have another child.

  “Would you like to see your little girl?”

  I turn back around, my hand on my mouth. My little girl.

  It rings around in my head and implants itself. I’m responsible for this little girl. I have to be her daddy, because if I don’t… who will? Gatz and Kane aren’t here, and I won’t let anyone else be her daddy because nobody can do the job better than me. Nobody.

  “Yes, I want to see my daughter.” The words come out smooth, and they sound right.

  I follow the older doctor around the corner, past the front desk to a large finger-smudged glass. There are little tubs full of babies wrapped in pink and blue blankets, but I spot Little Peach instantly. She’s darker skinned than the others, just like her momma, and has just the cutest amount of dark hair on her head. She’s the cutest on
e in there.

  A nurse holds a stethoscope to her chest, as she cries bloody murder. My chest constricts, as if hearing her cry through the glass alerts something in me to go to her.

  “Can I hold her?” A tear slips down my face, and I brush it off. I feel like a pussy crying, but I can’t help it. Look at her.

  “Yeah, let’s go in.” He steps to the side of the glass to a metal door, and presses in a code into a keypad, unlocking the door. Stepping into the secure room, the smell of baby soap and the sound of crying babies is overwhelming.

  The doctor steps up next to Little Peach’s tub, and I follow him. She’s so small, her skin nearly translucent.

  A nurse wraps her tightly in a pink blanket and holds her to me. I hesitate, I’ve never held a baby before. Looking to her with panic, I convey just how fucking scared I am to hold her. What if I drop her? What if I’m sick and I don’t know it?

  She smiles and presses the crying little girl to my chest.

  “Just support her head here.” The nurse places my elbow just right under her head. “And snugly here.” She pushes my hand under her body.

  Looking down, I draw in a tight breath at the sight of Little Peach. I’m holding her, and not dropping her. Her round face and small puckered lips are the most delicate thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Hey little one.” My voice cracks with emotion, and she looks up at me with goo applied around her eyes. She stops crying, and I can feel her heartbeat against my arms.

  “She recognizes your voice,” the nurse says with a big smile.