Salvation

Chapter 1

“Mamba! Mamba!”

Mamba never tired of the crowd chanting his name. The intoxicating thrill of the applause and the shiver it sent up his spine rivaled all other sensations—excluding the sensuous lips of his beautiful Mandy.

The referee declared him the winner of the last round of a championship fight he’d been training for the last few months. He raised his arms over his head and picked out

Mandy in the first row. Their eyes connected and she favored him with a smile and a slight nod of approval. The sight of her belly swollen with his child filled him with more pride than all the championships in the world.

Still petite at eight months pregnant, Mandy looked out of place wedged between Cobra, his MC president, and Python, the club’s sergeant-at-arms. The two men dwarfed her in overall size yet there were no others he would trust with such precious cargo—his woman and his soon-to-be baby.

When the cheering subsided to a dull roar, Mamba burst through the cage door, down the three metal steps and onto the concrete floor of the Valley View warehouse where the biggest, most lucrative underground fights in Southern Nevada were held. The fights were basically illegal but because the Serpents MC had an iron clad deal with Metro, the cops looked the other way.

“You fuckin’ annihilated that guy.” Cobra slapped him on the back as Python drew him into a fake choke hold.

When he broke free, they did the hug back slap thing as he craned his neck over Python’s shoulder spying his girl.

Mandy’s calming influence helped him channel his aggressions to fighting in the cage.

He opened his arms and she snuggled into him never caring about his sweaty body. Although with the basketball under her shirt it was hard for her to give him a proper hug.

Mandy beamed up at him. “You’re unbeatable.”

Mamba covered her lips with his, oblivious to the shifting people around them. When they were together it was just Mamba and Mandy who existed. Even the fight bunnies who hit on every fighter had given up on Mamba.

He broke away from the kiss shielding her with his body as they made their way to the locker rooms. He stopped along the way to sign T-shirts, ball caps, and all kinds of crazy shit as reporters shoved microphones in his face with a litany of questions. “Will you still fight after the baby’s born? How does Mandy feel about you fighting now that she’s pregnant? Will Mandy let you keep fighting after the baby’s born?”

Mamba fielded the same questions each week in different forms, but they all centered on the same topic, his personal life. The reporters seldom asked questions about his actual fighting or any of his upcoming fights. For whatever reason, the public loved to hear about the roughed-up cage fighter, and his delicate pregnant woman. Seemed the public made him, Mandy, and their unborn child the latest intriguing story in a world consumed by reality TV.

They finally made it to the locker room where Python made sure the only ones who entered were the other Serpents,
Mamba’s trainer, and one of the owners of the warehouse, Samson.

Mamba pointed at Mandy, then ordered, “I want you to sit down.”

She gave him a small salute, and Mamba headed for the showers.

Fifteen minutes later, he was showered, changed and ready to go. “Party at our house.” Mamba swept his arm around the room including all the Serpents and Samson.

The fight ended at eleven and Mamba loved to entertain the guys at his newly purchased four thousand square foot house in the Spanish Trail section of the Las Vegas suburb. The place represented a stability and a sense of permanence. Mandy argued they didn’t need such a lavish home, but Mamba insisted telling her he wanted her to only have the best.

Samson flanked him. “Can I have a word?”

Mamba nodded to Python. “Take Mandy to the SUV. I’ll be out in a minute.” He stopped letting Mandy ride the back of his Harley two months ago. She ragged on him for being overprotective but he stood firm. If being a little overprotective kept them safe then it was all good.

Nothing was gonna mess with his good fortune.

“What’s up?” Mamba faced Samson. They were equal in size, but Samson’s somber expression tightened Mamba’s gut.

Two years ago, Samson and his friend Nick came to Vegas looking for a new home for their multi-million-dollar nightclub, away from the ties of the New York mob. The Serpents helped them with some connections and investments, and they opened Club Wicked to rave reviews.

Over the last year, Samson and Mamba developed a fast friendship centering around their love of throwing fists in the cage, bad past decisions, and fatal addictions.

“I’ve been hearing some disturbing shit going around.” Samson didn’t beat around the bush, which Mamba usually appreciated.

“Like?”

“Like you’ve been borrowing money from the wrong people.”