Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

RAFAEL

Omari was moved to a new room late last night, this one allowing him to have more than two visitors at a time. Jace and Zeke come to visit Omari, bringing Little Raf with them. I didn't want them to bring the baby, but Omari was almost in tears when he asked, saying he needed to see him with his own eyes to believe he was alright. I caved, giving Omari whatever he asks for.

When he sees him, Omari tries to sit up in bed so he can hold him, but he's too hurt, so I sit on the bed beside him, holding Little Raf in my lap and allowing Omari to touch him and squeeze his little hands.

"It's good to see you, big man," he whispers, kissing the backs of his hands.

"He missed you too," Zeke says. "He cried for a long time last night. I think he knew you weren't there."

Omari grins at the baby. "Of course he did. You missed Uncle Omari?" he coos to the baby and my heart leaps. He sees himself as being my partner, my other half. My love.

Little Raf squeals, his little fingers curling into grabby fists. "Not right now," I say softly to the baby, kissing the top of his head. "Uncle Omari is hurting."

Omari pouts, leaning his head on my arm. I just catch Little Raf's hand before he smacks Omari on the nose.

"How you feeling?" Jace asks Omari, leaning against the wall across from the bed.

"The meds are good here," he says. "Right now, I'm okay. But when the pain comes, it fucking sucks." Omari sighs and sits back. "I should be out of here in a day or two though." The nurse removed his eye covering this morning, but said he still had to rest it.

"We'll be there with Prez to help out with Little Raf and anything else you need," Zeke says, squeezing Omari's hand.

Jace nods.

Omari looks at both of them. "For some big, bad bikers, y'all are sweet. Are y'all sure y'all are in a bad ass motorcycle club?"

Zeke leans closer to Omari and drops his voice. "I killed the man that hurt Shane. We're not all sweet, Mari." He winks and sits back, a self-assured smile on his face.

Omari told me Shane told him about what happened with Kirk and how Shane got his scars. Omari was not happy to hear the story, feeling sad for Shane for hours after he came home from their visit.

Now he looks at Zeke with new eyes. "Well, that's sweet in and of itself, Zeke. I'm not sure you've convinced me."

Zeke laughs, shaking his head. "You're terrible."

At that moment, Hazel peeks into the room, smiling at her brother. "Is there room for one more?"

"Of course," Omari says, holding up his arms a few inches from the bed. Earlier, he said his body hurts too badly to do more. His meds must be kicking in. They have him on a constant drip to combat the pain, though not enough to make him loopy. "Come on in. "

Hazel rushes over, hugging her brother gently. "The kids wanted to come, but I told them you needed rest. They're with my neighbor since they have school tomorrow."

"I hate they have to see me like this."

"Hush, now." She leans down to kiss Omari on the head. "They're just glad you're okay." Hazel looks at Zeke. "Who are you, might I ask?"

Zeke smiles, stands, and holds out his hand. "I'm Zeke. The enforcer."

"The lawyer's boyfriend?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

"That's me," Zeke says proudly. He looks at Omari with a smirk. "You told your sister about us?"

Omari nods. "Yep. She knows about all of you heathens."

Zeke laughs and sits back down. "You just called me sweet. You can't have it both ways, First Gentleman." Omari smiles and shakes his head.

Walking over to me, Hazel holds out her arms for Little Raf. "Can I?"

"Sure." I hand her the baby.

"Hey, handsome." She nuzzles against his cheek, smiling softly. She looks up at me and tilts her head. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

I shrug and, as if on demand, yawn widely. "An hour or two. I was making sure Omari was okay."

"I told you I was fine hours ago. Stop hovering," Omari grumbles, closing his eyes from fatigue. "No one can get in here without passing the desk and signing in. Or getting past these two that are also hovering." He inclines his head to Jace and Zeke, who don't look the least bit ashamed.

Before I can respond to Omari, Hazel speaks up. "I'll stay with him. And I'll keep the baby too, so you can get some rest. You look like you can use an hour or two of shuteye."

Jace says, "Call the prospect and have him stand guard." Zeke nods in agreement .

Grumbling, I say, "Fine. Get Don on the phone and have him head over. You two," I point to Jace and Zeke in turn, "don't leave until he shows up."

Jace nods and pulls out his phone. I bend to kiss Omari gently. "I'll be right back."

"I know you will. You're obsessed with me," he jokes, closing his eyes again.

Chuckling, I kiss him again. "I am. Got a problem with that?"

"Not at all."

"I love you," I whisper, the words coming easier now that they've spilled from my lips the first time.

"Love you too, baby." With one more kiss to his lips and a kiss on the top of Little Raf's head, I force myself to leave the room.

I'm surprised when Jace calls after me just as I reach the elevator, cell phone in his outstretched hand. "You need to hear this, Prez," he says, eyes brimming with anger.

He doesn't say more than that, so I take the phone from him and look at the caller ID, seeing it's the prospect. Putting it to my ear, I say, "What is it?"

"Prez, I found him. I wasn't looking, I was heading to the hospital like Jace said, to watch over your family and protect them, but I saw him. I took a shortcut because I didn't want to be caught in traffic and I saw him go in the house where I picked up Kit." Something in my brain ticks that he remembers Kit's name, but I put it out of my mind.

"Slow down. Who are you talking about? Start from the beginning."

He takes a deep breath but talks quickly. "I can't slow down, Prez. He looks like he's about to skip town. He went inside Kit's house and came back out with bags. I recognized him at a light and figured I'd better find out where he was going and report back, but I'm here and he's fucking leaving, Prez. I'm in my car, so I can grab him. If I'm gonna grab him, I need to do it now." He pauses and says, "Prez, it's that fucking guy, Brock."

My blood immediately starts boiling and I snarl into the phone. "No, Don. He's mine. Keep eyes on him, but don't touch him. I'm on the way."

"I got it, Prez. I won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Prospect. You did good."

He breathes out a hard breath. "Thanks, Prez."

Hanging up, I jab my finger into the down button on the elevator. "Stay here. I'll send the prospect when I get to that house. I'll call if I need some backup."

Jace nods. "You got it, Prez."

Once I'm outside the hospital, I pull my keys from my packet and jog over to the SUV.

When Zeke and Jace came to the hospital room earlier with a change of clothes for me, I snarled as I snatched the items away. They brought me my riding clothes—a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and my heavy riding boots. "I don't know how to pick out clothes, Prez," Zeke said. "You see I only wear jeans and t-shirts. So that's what you got."

I was pissed to not have my dress clothes. But now, I'm grateful. There's no way I could have fucked Brock up the way I want to with a pair of loafers that have no grip. These boots will allow my feet to grip the ground as I'm beating Brock's ass. They'll do some real damage as I'm stomping him out the way he did Omari.

Once I'm behind the wheel, I gun it to the address I still have in my phone for Kit. The GPS says it's ten minutes away and I make it in five.

I spot Don in his car, parked down the street from the townhouse that Kit lived in. When Don spots me, he nods, then drives off without a backward glance.

After I throw the car in park, I march to the door, my hands shaking with barely suppressed rage. My anger is bubbling just below the surface at the thought of being so close to the man that hurt Omari so badly, but I know if I kick the door in, he'll have time to hide or find a way out. Instead, I try the knob first, hoping it's unlocked. If it's not, I'll kick the fucker down.

The knob turns in my hand and I smile triumphantly. I push inside, scanning around quickly. Bags are packed by the door, along with a few boxes. I hear rummaging around in one of the rooms in the back.

I'm inspecting the interior of the house, about to head in the direction I hear the noise when Brock walks from the back of the townhouse, arms full of clothes with the hangers still attached. He stops when he spots me standing in the doorway, his eyes as round as saucers. In a flash, I spot the scratches on his neck, his busted nose and fat lip. My lip curls thinking about what he did to earn those injuries.

As quick as a flash, he drops his clothes and runs to the living room, knocking things over as he does. I take off after him, trying to grab him. He picks up a small vase from the table and throws it at me. I duck, but it clips me on the head before I can avoid it altogether. I growl in rage and hop over the table, reaching for him. He ducks under my arms and takes off to the dining room, putting the dining table between us.

"What the fuck, man?" he asks, voice shaky. "Get the fuck out of here! I didn't do nothing!"

"That busted lip says different, bitch. When I get my fucking hands on you," I growl, "you're going to wish you'd skipped town before I showed up."

He hustles around the table as I make a move to grab him, but my fingers slip off his collar. With a roar, I flip the table, pinning him against the wall. I reach across and grab him by the front of his shirt, tossing him across the room and into the coffee table.

"Get up, bitch," I roar, charging over to him so I can stomp his fucking face in.

He scrambles up and takes off like a shot, darting out the door before I can catch him. The fucker tosses his bags to obstruct my path and when I finally get past them, he's behind the wheel of his car, taking off out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell.

With a snarl, I race to my SUV, climb behind the wheel and speed after him. The sun has set and few people are on the road. Brock is driving some piece of shit beater and I have no problem catching up with him. He weaves up and down side streets, turning haphazardly. A few times he almost spins out and I try to ram his car, but he manages to right himself quickly and darts away.

But his luck runs out. When we hit a straightaway on Highway 12, I put my foot on the gas and gain on him. He tries to weave back and forth over the solid yellow lines, but I keep driving straight, knowing it's only a matter of time before I'm close enough to nudge him into spinning out.

When he tries to put on more speed, I catch up and bump into the back of his car. Brock swerves but manages to stay on the road. That doesn't matter. I catch up with him again and bump into the side of his car, doing one of those spin maneuvers the cops always brag about. Highway 12 is bracketed by deep forests, but enough space for a car to slide through without too much hindrance. I watch as his car drifts through some trees, but eventually slams up against one and comes to a stop not far from the road.

I stomp on the brakes and back up quickly to where he crashed, not wanting to give him a chance to run deeper into the woods. It's too dark out to track him down and that motherfucker won't get away from me tonight. He won't leave these woods alive.

When I pull up to the wreckage, the front of the car illuminated, I see Brock still behind the wheel, holding his head where it's bleeding. While I have him in my sights, I pick up the phone and make two calls. One to Officer Chance, the cop on our payroll.

"Chance," he says when he picks up.

"It's Prez. I need you to come down to mile marker eighteen on Highway 12. There's been a car accident and someone's dead."

"You got a body?" he asks in his country accent as I hear rustling over the phone.

"Not yet, but he'll be fucking dead soon."

Chance pauses, then says, "I'll take my time then."

I hang up and make my second call. "Jace. You, Pete, and Zeke get down to Highway 12. I'll need clean up after I'm done with this bitch."

Tossing the phone to the passenger seat, I open the door and slam it roughly when I exit the vehicle.

Brock blinks dazedly, looking over at me as he squints in the lights. "Help me," he murmurs.

Snarling, I grab him through the window and pull him out, tossing him against one of the tree trunks. His back bows as he cries out, sliding to the ground.

I march over to him, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He surprises me by taking a swing, hitting me in the side of the face. My cheek throbs and my eye smarts, but I don't let it show. I smile at him before I head butt him, dazing him again.

He slumps to the side and I shake him hard. "Look at me, bitch," I snarl.

Brock does his best, his head lolling as he tries to hold it up. "What did I … do to you? "

"I told you to stay away from my property. My Omari. And you didn't fucking listen." His eyes grow wide and he tries to scramble away, but I hold fast to his shirt. "You beat him to within an inch of his life. Now I'm going to take yours."

He cries, scratching at my arms and hand, hoping I'll let him go, but I won't be denied.

Standing, I bring Brock with me, putting pressure on his throat. His face turns red from the effort to breathe. His fists swing wildly, but I easily dodge them, squeezing his throat harder.

Before he passes out, I drop him at my feet. He drags in a deep breath, but before he can get too much air in, I kick him in the gut three times, putting all my weight behind it. The heavy boots connect with his ribs and diaphragm, making it hard for him to inhale or exhale. Brock curls into a ball, grabbing my foot to stop my abuse.

I kneel beside him, flipping him over so I can put my weight on his chest. "This is for what you did to my fucking man," I roar before I pummel his face, hitting him over and over. His nose breaks and blood flies everywhere. He screams with every hit, but I don't let up.

When my arm gets heavy, I stop punching him and stand, looking down at the mush that makes up his face now. But Brock isn't dead. He's groaning and twitching, his hands sloppy as he tries to cover himself.

"You tried to take advantage of him," I say and stomp on his chest. Brock jerks but doesn't cry out. "You turned his best friend against him." Again, I stomp on his chest, feeling the bones crack. "You tried to kill him. But guess what? You failed, bitch. But I won't."

I lift my foot again to bring it down on his face, but I hear a shout behind me. I wheel around, chest heaving as I lower my foot and raise my hands. Brock turns—or his head flops—in the direction of the voice as well.

A man in uniform enters the clearing, gun raised at both of us. Brock lets out a sound of relief and through swollen lips says, "Officer." His voice is garbled and I can barely make it out, but I hear him plead, "Help me."

The officer walks over to us, gun still raised as he looks down at Brock. "Fucking hell." He looks back up at me and smiles, holstering the weapon. "You fucked him up."

I scoff, lowering my hands. "I'm not done here, Chance."

He shrugs, stepping back and leaning against my SUV. "I ain't stopping you. I'll be here to help with clean up."

"No, please … Officer," Brock croaks. He tries to reach out to Chance, but Chance just raises his hands as if he's not involved in my business. I kick Brock in the face, causing him to curl in on himself.

I kick him in the back and side repeatedly, making sure he gets the same injuries as Omari. His cries and whimpers fill the night and I smile. He deserves all the pain for what he did to Omari, who has never hurt a soul. For Omari, who didn't deserve to have the shit kicked out of him for trying to survive. For Omari who he tried to use for financial gain and when that didn't happen, knocked the shit out of him. He won't get away with it.

Lowering myself until I'm straddling his chest again, I grab both sides of his face and slam his head on the ground like Omari said Brock did to him. His cries fill me with more joy than I thought possible. I love knowing he's in pain. I chuckle at the thought of what Omari would say about me loving anything.

By the time I finished, I have an audience. Jace, Pete, and Zeke rest beside the SUV with Chance, watching me.

I wipe my face and stand, blood staining my hands and all down my front .

Brock pants under me, groaning in pain. Standing by his head, I tell him, "You shouldn't have fucked with what's mine." Lifting my foot, I slam it down on Brock's face once, twice, three times until his skull gives way.

His body twitches for a few seconds, then goes still.

I stumble back from the body, breathing heavily. Zeke catches me before I fall on my ass, holding me up. "You're good, Prez. You did good, brother."

Pete walks over with a towel, wiping my hands and along my face. "That was good fighting, Prez. You might have to give me some pointers before my next match."

A small grin tips up my lips.

Jace and Chance walk over to the body. Chance bends down and looks at Brock with his head tilted. "I don't know how I'll spin this one. Might be too much biological evidence left behind. Can you get rid of the body?" He looks up at me, but his eyes keep bouncing over to Pete. Pete meets his eyes for a moment, then ducks them, wiping the rest of the blood from my hands.

Zeke is the one that speaks up. "Yeah, we can. There are plenty of places in these woods. We won't have to go far."

Chance stands, straightening his belt. "Alright. You move the body and I'll take care of the car. Prez, get out of here. I'll update you when I can."

"Yeah, okay," I say, my voice sounding gruff.

"Keys, Prez," Zeke says. "I'll drive you home."

"They're … they're in the car. I need to go back to Omari. I need to see him. Do you understand?"

He nods, throwing his arm around my shoulder. "Yep. I'll take you to see your man. But you need a shower first. You can't go to him like this." I look down at myself—at the blood on my shirt, forearms, and hands—and know he's right. "Ruiz is on shift tonight, so he'll walk you up. Visiting hours are over, even for presidents." He winks at me and I chuckle, shaking my head.

"If anyone tries to keep me from him, they'll end up like that fucking fuck back there." I thumb over my shoulder.

"I don't doubt it." We climb into the SUV and I lean my head against the headrest. Through the beaming headlights, I watch Pete and Jace drag Brock's body deeper into the woods as Chance walks over to the car and starts it up. The engine turns over and the lights from the beat-up car illuminate the woods. "Let's get you cleaned up so you can see Omari."

An hour later, Hector is walking me upstairs and into Omari's room. The nurse at the desk raises an eyebrow but doesn't comment when she sees me with a fellow nurse.

Omari is lying on the slightly elevated bed on his back asleep, one hand across his belly. I smile, my heart so full of love for him, I think I'll explode with it.

Dragging the chair over, I sit beside him and take the hand that's by his side.

Hector catches my attention. "You'll probably get about an hour before someone does their rounds and kicks you out. Since I'm in the ER, I won't be able to head them off."

"Thanks, hermano. That's plenty of time. I appreciate you."

"No biggie. I'll catch you later." He raps his knuckles on the door twice, then leaves.

The noise wakes Omari, his forehead scrunching before he blinks his eyes open slowly. When he focuses on me, he smiles. The swelling in his lips has mostly gone down; he looks like he usually does in that regard. With his light brown skin, the bruising shows up prominently, which makes my blood boil. If I could kill Brock again, I would.

"I expected you back hours ago," he says in a sleep-soaked voice.

"Me too." I bring his hand to my lips .

Omari's eyes zero in on the cuts and bruises on my hands. "You didn't have those when you left."

"No. But the prospect found Brock and I did what I had to do."

He gasps. "You … he's …"

"He won't be found," is all I say. If something happens, I don't want him to have any knowledge of what went on.

Tears leak from Omari's eyes, even as he smiles. "Thank you, baby." He lifts a shaky hand to my face, holding it against my cheek. "I told you, you avenge the ones you love."

Smiling, I kiss his palm. I'm too choked up to say anything in response.

For decades, I felt like I failed everyone around me. My mother, Elena, Rax, Christian, and now Omari. But now, I believe him. I did avenge him. I may have fucked up by not watching him like a hawk, but I made sure the man who did this to him has no more sunrises.

Just like I did with my papa. I couldn't save my mother, but I made sure he paid for it. In Elena's case, I have her little boy and I'm going to do right by him. I'm not the most squeaky-clean man, but I will make sure Little Raf is loved and taken care of. Especially because Omari will be there with me every step of the way.

"I love you," he says, rubbing my cheek gently.

"And I love you." I lean over and kiss him lightly. "I gotta go, baby. I need to get our baby. I'll bring him to see you tomorrow. But tonight, he needs me."

Omari's eye softens as he nods. "Of course. I'm safe now. Give him a hug from me. I really miss him."

"I will." I give him one more kiss just as a nurse steps into Omari's room with meds. "I'm leaving," I tell her, holding my hands up. I place one more light kiss to his forehead, tell Omari I love him and leave.

Heading to Hazel's to get my kid.