Page 25 of Fatal Love
Chapter Seven
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ABOVE HER,BEATRICEheard glass break.
At least she thought it was glass. Her head swam and her thoughts were constantly being hijacked by the pain cramping her belly, back, and inner thighs. “God…damn…it!” she yelled.
Huff-huff-huff.Long breath in.Huff-huff-huff.
Cal’s voice floated to her from far away. The sound of footsteps running, pounding. Someone yelled. More voices. Abang-bang-bangon the bedroom door.
“You’re doing good, Beatrice,” Maria said. “But I think we should find you something else to hang on to.”
The midwife’s cool hands took the gun from Beatrice’s grip, replacing it with a small rubber ball.
While stout, the rubber collapsed under the pressure of her fingers. “No…good. Give me…my gun.”
“No. Focus.”
So much for the warm waters of her birthing tub. So much for having her husband nearby, holding her hand and breathing through the contractions with her. “Who’s knocking on the bedroom door?”
“Don’t worry about that.”
Seriously? They were under ambush, Cal was injured, and Maria was telling her not to worry about it?
On her next inhale, she threw the rubber ball at the far wall as hard as she could. “Give me my fucking weapon!”
Maria ducked as the ball zoomed by her head. “So you can accidentally shoot me? I don’t think so.”
“Either get Cal,” Beatrice huffed, “or give me my gun.”Huff-huff-huff, inhaaaale. “One or the other.”
“It’s almost time to start pushing. I’m not leaving you.”
Pain surged up her spine and her back arched, lifting her off the floor and pillows Maria had tucked under her. “Ugggghh.”
Maria said other things to her, comforting things, but Beatrice’s vision went white and all the noise blurred. For long moments, she was locked inside the contraction, the pain forcing her to ride its wave whether she wanted to or not.
At the crest, something broke. Not inside her, but outside of the closet. Wood splintered, the voices amplified.
Cal.
Maria’s gaze snapped to the closet door. There was no lock on it, but she’d used two of Cal’s belts to tie the doorknob to the built-in shelving. She’d also taken two of the metal poles from the shelving and ran them across the door, one each at the top and bottom, locking each of their ends into the shelves on either side.
Something hit the door, making it pop open half an inch and causing Maria to yelp. Beatrice would have yelped herself if she could have mustered the energy.
One dark eye peered through the crack, locking on Beatrice, prone on the floor.
“Open the door!” the man commanded, even as he threw his weight against it again, jostling the metal poles.
“In`al abuk!” Maria yelled.
Beatrice wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but she thought the Hebrew saying translated toyour father should die.
In other words,fuck you.
She could second that.
