“Where is Amara?” I ask Maverick as we bolt out of the warehouse.
“With Baron. Her and her friend were outside when we pulled up.”
“Alright.” I pick up the pace. “Let’s go.”
“Ransome!” Maverick calls out. His tone is urgent enough to make me turn back. “She’s in labor.”
55
RANSOME
“Where is she?”
I march up to the emergency desk and demand the attention of everyone there.
“Who are you referring to, sir?” the woman asks, but I am not in the mood to be nice.
“Amara Parker. She was brought in here less than an hour ago. She’s in labor.”
“Then she is on the sixth floor, sir. L&D,” she says flatly.
I don’t like her tone, but before I can say anything else, Maverick shuffles me away.
It’s no different when we get to the desk on the 6th floor, except that I ask a lot more questions.
“How far along is she?” I ask. Labor, not pregnancy.
“Her water was broken when she was brought in,” the nurse who is leading me down the hall says over her shoulder.
“How much time do we have?”
“Sir—”
“I want the best fucking OB you have in that room, do you understand me?” I bark out.
“Sir, I need you to lower your voice. There are other patients?—”
“I don’t give a fuck about other patients,” I snarl. “I want to know how my wife and child are doing. Which room is she in?”
“She was taken to the OR, sir,” she explains, and I stop.
“Why?”
“Because she was bleeding.”
I swallow hard. “More than usual?”
She nods. “She was unconscious when they brought her in. We had to do an emergency C-section.”
It hits me harder than any bullet ever could.
After I regain my breath, I manage to ask, “Where is she now?”
Amara looks lifeless in the bed. The nurses and the machines both attempt to reassure me she is stable, but the white of her face and the blue in her lips tell me otherwise. She is hooked up tubes and her hands are at her sides.
I stand over her, staring down. Carefully, I brush her hair behind her ear and while her skin is still warm, she still doesn’t feel like her. She feels… empty.
“Where is the baby?” I ask without looking away from her.
