Rashonda Carlyle tried to stay calm while looking at the explosive device on her three-year-old baby’s ankle. The African-American twenty-two-year-old mother already had to deal with losing her fiance in a drive-by shooting. The drive-by shooter also shot Rashonda’s three-year-old son, Jamal, in his leg. The toddler was on his toy bike on the sidewalk when the shooting occurred. Rashonda didn’t know why someone would shoot at her fiance and his friends while they were sitting on the front porch of her home. Rashonda’s fiance had no gang affiliations, yet someone came up and shot him for no reason. She suspected that her fiance’s guy friends had some affiliations that her fiance didn’t know about. Rashonda couldn’t sleep. She sat next to the hospital bed with her hand constantly reaching over and touching her baby’s wounded leg. Things got worse for Rashonda when she stepped out of the hospital room’s bathroom to see a tall, bulky man in a nurse’s uniform strapping a

The Weeknd’s Blinding Lights vibrated through Rashonda’s phone. Rashonda almost jumped out of her beautiful, flawless skin when she heard her phone’s explosive ringtone. The young mother and Agent Malloy looked around at each other in relief after realizing that it was only a ringing phone. Rashonda looked back at her purse where her phone was inside, ringing its electronic head off. She loved the old pop classics, but hearing The Weeknd while carrying her baby to the bathroom with a bomb strapped to his ankle was not a good time. Rashonda breathed a sigh of relief when she made it to the bathroom with her son. She carefully set her baby down on the toilet seat after raising his hospital gown. “Can we have some privacy, please?” Rashonda fussed at Agent Malloy while giving the man a stare that said, please go away, white man. Agent Malloy understood the mother’s stare, and he immediately stepped out of the bathroom while gently closing the door behind him. Wh

Agent Jane watched as Rashonda started rocking back and forth on the bed while caressing her son’s arm. The FBI agent came and sat beside Rashonda on the bed while smiling at three-year-old Jamal. Jamal studied the wrinkles on the face of this white woman sitting next to his mother. Rashonda kept her attention on her baby and she kissed Jamal’s fingers. The young mother felt the tension in her body dissolving a little. She watched as her son used his small fingers to draw across his mother’s shoulder. “I wanna kill that man for what he did to my baby,” Rashonda said softly to Agent Jane. She never looked at Agent Jane when she spoke to her. Agent Jane licked her lips. “I wanna kill him too,” she said, joining Rashonda in her anger. She reached over and touched Jamal’s hand, which was reaching out to her. “I have a son and he’s grown now. But I know that if somebody tried to harm him, I would move heaven and hell to bash their f*cking skull in.” Rashon

The young man could see that his supervisor wanted to cry. “You know we can’t kill him. I wanted to kill him when he attacked me, but I knew I couldn’t.” Agent Vernon cut his eyes down at the gunman for a second. “He’s a crazy motherf*cker, I know that. When he attacked me, he kept whispering in my ear, telling me how he was gonna teach me how to tango and crazy sh*t like that.” Agent Jane shook her head while looking back up at Agent Vernon. “I just wished we could have stopped him before he put the bomb on that baby’s leg.” Agent Jane pointed down at the gunman. She put her hand up to her head, and she felt the slight essence of a migraine settling in. “You think Agent Cho is gonna be able to shut off the bomb?” Agent Vernon asked his question with doubts in his mind. “I know that Agent Cho will turn off that bomb.” Agent Jane felt hope come over her after she said that. “Even though she’s pregnant, and she’s putting her body under tr

2Pac had his eyes locked on his side mirrors and he tried to shut down all of Amy’s attempts to pass his truck. Amy knew 2Pac would give her a hard time, and she prepared herself for it. She lost her focus on passing the truck when she heard a loud clamoring coming from the muscle car’s rear window. The heavy clamoring was the sound of bullets striking the Camaro’s rear window and trunk. The bad part was that Amy and her husband were getting struck by enemy fire, and the good part was that Amy’s 1969 Camaro ZL1 had bulletproof paneling and glass. Bryan ducked his head down at first, thinking the bullets were going to shatter the Camaro’s rear window. To his surprise, he could see the bullets deflecting off the rear window’s reinforced glass, not even leaving a nick. “I didn’t know she was bulletproof,” Bryan uttered in a state of disbelief, referring to the car. It impressed Bryan to see that no bullets were penetrating the Camaro’s windows and its titanium-silver paint fini