Page 23 of Tossed into the Mob (The Wolves of La Luna Noir #4)

TWENTY-THREE

TREYTON

I was exhausted as I pulled off my surgical gloves and tossed them in the disposal bin. But the alpha and omega holding their newborn and their joyful tears mingling and dropping on the newborn’s head made it all worthwhile.

The omega and baby were healthy, and my job was done. I congratulated them and left the delivery suite.

It was strange doing temp work at the same hospital where I’d worked before Brock stumbled into my life. I was living the dream because I was deep into the process of developing that mobile service for pregnant omegas who didn’t have adequate medical care.

Using my skills for those who needed it most felt right, but I couldn’t have done it without a sizable personal donation from Flint. Not all shifters were well off, and many were unable to give birth without complications, especially if their partner was human

I’d wanted to get a bank loan, but Grandpa or my folks would have had to be guarantors because I didn’t have much money. I’d initially rejected the offer from Flint, feeling as though I should have to work hard and save up, like most people.

Brock and I discussed it, and he pointed out that omegas needed this service, and was I going to let my pride get in the way of providing it?

Him reading me the riot act kicked me into gear, and I accepted the funding from my cousin.

The service was close to being ready, with two vans and a couple of midwives, and if it was a success, I hoped to expand.

My phone buzzed as I got changed out of my scrubs.

In the parking garage with Dad. Have you finished?

He and Niles had been in the mall across from the hospital picking up last-minute baby items, though I wasn’t sure what they were. The nursery, laundry, and freezer were groaning with bedding, baby clothes, diapers, toys, books, and food.

Niles was here because Brock’s due date was in two weeks. He was officially full-term, and tomorrow was the last day on my schedule. I didn’t want to be delivering someone else’s baby when my mate went into labor.

“Night, Treyton.” I waved at Clement, recalling us greeting one another the night I met Brock. “Great work tonight.”

“Thanks. See you tomorrow. It’s my last day.”

The elevator descended to the parking level, and my body responded as I got closer to my mate.

Even if we’d been apart for an hour, I couldn’t wait to be with him, holding his hand or brushing against him.

No matter how tired I was, being in my mate’s presence was similar to being plugged in and recharged.

Hope we don’t get electrocuted, my wolf jested.

Look at you, making a joke.

I stepped off the elevator and spotted my car, the same dinged-up one I’d had for the last year.

It was in my usual spot, and it brought back memories of me approaching the car and Brock appearing, bleeding and with the gun in his pocket.

The memory was etched in my mind, and I could almost smell the blood.

Brock wasn’t in the car as I’d expected. He was standing beside it. Damn, he must have forgotten his key and he’d been standing this whole time. But as I got closer, I picked up his heavy breathing, and he was bracing himself against the car while the other hand was pressed to his lower back.

Gods, no. Something was wrong.

Make him better, my beast insisted.

Niles was encouraging Brock to sit in the car while he got an orderly from the hospital to bring a wheelchair.

“Brock.” I jogged to my mate, and when he looked at me, I recognized his expression, one I’d witnessed on many of my laboring patients. He was focused on his breathing while trying to manage the pain.

“My water broke.” He panted and closed his eyes. “Baby’s… coming.” He doubled over, and Niles moved to the side so Brock could lean on me. My mate was breathing hard through his pursed lips, and without thinking, I timed his contraction. Shit, it lasted sixty seconds.

I was in my place of work where I delivered babies. I was a midwife, a professional. But I had to summon that knowledge, because for a second, I was every alpha father when their mate went into labor; panicked and wondering what the heck I was supposed to do.

My wolf told me to get it together, and I explained to Brock we’d get him inside the hospital.

Shifters usually gave birth just with their mate, but Brock was human and I’d encouraged him to deliver in a hospital.

He’d insisted on doing it as my cousins’ human mates had.

So we’d compromised with him seeing a human doctor for his monthly checkups and having the baby in the hospital if there were complications.

Brock straightened up. “But I wanted our baby born at home.” He gasped. “Oh gods, I don’t…” He groaned, and his belly, which was resting on my midsection, tightened. Another contraction so soon after the last one.

This was moving fast and the baby wanted out, unlike most first babies who usually took their time. Niles raced for the elevator, but I grabbed my phone to call the labor ward.

“No, I can’t… Dad, come back, I want to push.”

Niles skidded to a halt and half turned, and I was so befuddled that I almost dropped my phone.

That couldn’t be right. For first babies, omegas labored for hours before they were ready to deliver.

But that was my alpha dad's response. My midwife reaction was that every delivery was different and I’d been present at births that lasted under ten minutes.

I gave Niles the phone to make the call, saying we needed a team or an ambulance or orderly with a stretcher—I couldn’t work out which—in the hospital parking garage, level 3B.

With one hand on Brock, I opened the car’s back door, wishing I had taken Grandpa’s offer of one of his cars.

My silly pride got in the way again, and now my mate was going to give birth in my secondhand car with faded upholstery which scented of stale sandwiches.

I threw a blanket over the seat and Brock lay back, and I slipped off his pants and underwear. The overhead light was useless, and it wouldn’t help during the delivery. The lighting in the garage was weak, and I’d complained about it just last week. I’d get no help from that.

Niles handed me the first-aid kit from the trunk, and I put on gloves, aware that none of my cousins wore gloves when their kids were born. But I was a creature of habit. Sure, I’d scrubbed my hands before I left work, but this was my mate and my child.

There was no need for me to examine him and check how dilated he was. The baby was crowning. Help likely wouldn’t make it in time, and this was where our little one would come into the world.

As a father, I was grateful my mate was giving birth quickly rather than enduring labor for hours or days, but fast births were hard to process, especially when the prospective parents had a plan they’d expected to follow.

Fast deliveries were more common in shifter births, so this might indicate our little one was a wolf.

“Okay, okay.” I was trying to stay calm. “We're doing this here.” I wished we weren’t, but babies didn’t listen to me.

I'd delivered many babies and handled emergencies and breech births. But none of those little ones were mine and the patients were not my mate. My wolf did the hee-hee-hoo breathing with me which helped, but I had to support my mate, not collapse in a heap.

“You’ve got this,” I assured my mate. It was ironic that we were so close to the hospital and yet our child would be born with only me, Brock, and his dad present.

Niles clambered into the front and leaned between the seats to hold his son’s hand.

“You’re doing so well.” He sniffed as his eyes welled with tears. “I was only in labor with you for a short time.” He brushed hair off Brock’s brow as my mate scrunched his eyes closed, leaned forward, and pushed.

The baby’s head emerged, and I was like any other excited alpha dad. “I see the head.”

My wolf was hyperventilating, but there were no paper bags for that.

“It hurts.” Brock was panting and gripping Niles’s hand so hard, a droplet of blood slithered over my father-in-law’s palm.

“Your body knows what to do.” That wasn’t very helpful when my mate was in such pain. “The baby’s almost here.”

Stay calm, Treyton, I repeated in my head. Your mate and baby are depending on you.

Brock grunted, and Niles helped my mate lean forward. He gave another push and the baby’s head was out. Oh my gods. This was our child. Our baby.

“Brock, the head. The head’s out.”

He grunted that he hoped the head was attached to a body.

I supported the baby’s head and checked that the cord wasn’t wrapped around our little one’s neck. Our little one was so small and defenseless, and I knew I’d protect them with my last breath, as I would for my mate.

“Is the baby okay?” Brock whimpered, and Niles was looking at me, his worried expression a sign he thought something was wrong.

“Everything is as it should be.” The baby was like most newborns, and I longed to have them in my arms. “One more push and the shoulders should be out.”

“Okay.” He panted. “They have shoulders.” There was more panting from my mate. “Good. To Know.”

The next contraction had Brock bearing down, and the baby slid into my hands.

“We have a daughter.” She took a breath and yelled, her cries filling the car and echoing through the parking garage. It was the most joyful sound for her parents and grandfather, but I interpreted her howl as if to say, “What am I doing here? Put me back.”

“A girl.” Niles squeed.

Brock collapsed in a heap of jelly limbs. “Please.”

I placed our wailing daughter on my mate’s chest and took off my hoodie and wrapped it over her. Watching my mate’s face transform from laboring omega to new dad was interrupted by a wail of sirens.

“The ambulance.” Niles was crying and stroking the baby’s head.

I was gulping back tears, trying to be professional but just wanting to hold Brock and our daughter and forget the rest of the world existed.

“Sorry, we went to the wrong floor.”

Brock wanted to go home, but I asked him to let the hospital staff examine him and the baby.

They wheeled Brock and our daughter into the elevator, and Niles and I squeezed in with them.

My hand was in Brock’s as I thought of who all I had to contact.

My folks, of course, and then Grandpa. He’d notify everyone else.

As I entered the hospital, I observed the staff not as their colleague but as a new father. People congratulated me, and I must have thanked them, but I longed to be cuddling with my mate and baby girl.

When the doctor pronounced both Brock and our daughter healthy, my mate was placed in a wheelchair. Niles was going to take him to the main entrance while I drove the car to meet them.

“We don’t have the infant car seat,” Brock pointed out. Ours was at home with all the other baby paraphernalia.

Damn. I hotfooted it to the mall over the road and bought one and raced back to my mate. But while I’d been gone, Grandpa had arrived, along with Rudy.

“Brock told me the baby was born in your car.”

I assured him our daughter was healthy, but he insisted we take his car and he’d follow in the birth mobile, as he referred to my vehicle.

Neither Brock nor I argued. He was exhausted, and we wanted our daughter at home where we could enjoy being a new family.

Brock sat in the back seat with the baby while Niles was with me in the front.

“Too hot or too cold?” I adjusted the temperature, not wanting our daughter to be uncomfortable.

“It’s just right.” The baby was wearing a onesie Grandpa had brought and was covered in a blanket, not one of the thirty or so that sat in the nursery. I had visions of being overrun with zombie baby blankets.

“Is there something wrong with Grandpa’s car?” my mate asked before yawning.

“What? Why?” I studied the dashboard and took my foot off the gas. There were no red lights alerting me to a problem, and we had plenty of gas. “No.”

Brock giggled. “I love that you’re driving safely, but our daughter will have her first birthday in the car if you don’t go a little faster.”

“Fine.” I pressed on the accelerator and increased the speed by one mile an hour. “We have precious cargo and can’t afford to get in an accident.”

“Okay. I love you, brand-new alpha dad.” Brock caught my eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Love you forever and always, my amazing mate who brought our daughter safely into the world.”

Brock's eyes began to close as he rested a protective hand on the baby.

“What are you going to name her?” Niles asked.