Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

OMARI

Two weeks later …

The sound of high-pitched laughter wakes me up from my fitful slumber, but I don't mind. My twin niece and nephew are the best part of living with my sister. She hasn't stressed me or made me feel like shit about not having a place to live. But her hovering is annoying as hell. She's the worst, making sure I have food, asking me if I need anything if she leaves the house and asking if I want to talk.

Okay, it's not annoying and she's not the worst. She means well and I know it. I'm lucky to have such a kind-hearted sister, someone that's had my back through thick and thin. Namely stepping in when I was a teenager and my mom tried to basically starve me so I'd lose weight. Hazel threatened our mother, saying she'd file child abuse charges to gain custody of me if she didn't cut the shit—my sister is close to ten years older than I am. She cares about me and I know it. I just want to sulk because it seems like I don't have control of my life anymore .

My sister's voice joins in with the laughter, trying to shush my niece and nephew when they step into the living room.

"This is their house," I say in a sleep-soaked voice. "They can make all kinds of noises. Right munchkins?"

"Uncle Mari!" they both shout and I make a ‘oomph' sound when they barrel into me. My eyes are still closed, so I didn't see them coming at me.

"Dang, you two are heavy," I mumble, sitting up with them in my arms.

My nephew smiles. "Nuh uh. We're the perfect size."

I laugh, still amazed that my six-year-old nephew says sentences like ‘we're the perfect size'. He and his sister are sharp as a tack and I'm proud that I helped raise them.

My brother-in-law, Curtis, died in an oil rig accident the day after he returned to work from paternity leave. The twins were barely three months old and my sister had to take care of them on her own while grieving the loss of her husband. My brother-in-law's family lived out of state and weren't in a financial position to uproot themselves to move closer. I had no problem stepping up, moving in with Hazel for a year to help her out and look after the twins when she went to work. After she was more stable and put the twins in daycare, I still came over a few times a week to hang out and look after them. They're the best kids I've ever met. They barely cried when they were infants and are kind and compassionate children.

Hazel gives me a dry look as she walks into the kitchen. "Yeah, Mari, they're the perfect size." She winks at me then focuses on the kids. "Let your uncle breathe. And brush his teeth. I know his morning breath is killing you two."

My sister and I could be twins, except she's around a size five. We have the same light brown skin, the same deep brown doe eyes, the same plump mouth and we're about the same height. We're also much the same in demeanor. We're mostly chill, not wanting to rock the boat, but we will if we have to. Just like me, Hazel would rather deescalate any fight or argument, but she's not a pushover. Besides Kit, she's my best friend. Well, Kit was my best friend.

I throw a small stuffed animal at my sister, but she catches it like an MLB player. I roll my eyes and set the twins down, going to the bathroom to brush my teeth, and relieve myself. Once I'm done and feeling human, I step into the kitchen with my sister. We move around the kitchen seamlessly as we cook breakfast.

After a few minutes of silence, Hazel asks carefully, "You hear anything back from the jobs you applied for?"

"Yeah," I say as I flip pancakes. "One said they would return my call when they've looked over my application. Another said I wasn't qualified enough. The other said I was too qualified." I don't believe that last one for a second. I only have a high school education and worked as a receptionist and office manager at the same location since I graduated. I'm not sure how that over qualifes me for the cash office in a grocery store, but who am I to argue?

She sighs, patting my back gently. "You'll find something," she reassures.

I turn to look at her, watching her slice apples for the twins. I'm not sure why I'm afraid to tell her about the job I heard back from yesterday, but nerves are swimming in my belly. Hazel is my big sister; I don't want her to be disappointed or think I'm naive or something.

She meets my eyes, then they drop to my hands that I'm wringing in front of me. "What is it, Omari?" she asks, putting the knife down and giving me her undivided attention.

"I saw a posting on social media about a live-in nanny position last week. I applied. "

"Live-in?" she repeats, raising an eyebrow. "You applied to live in a stranger's house to watch their kids?"

"Just one. A baby, six months old. You know I love babies. And it seemed legit. There was an application and a background check and everything." I was shocked when I was sent the email with an actual application and asking for consent to do a background check. If someone goes through all that trouble, it can't be a scam, right?

Hazel raises an eyebrow. "Show me this email."

Rolling my eyes, I grab my phone and hand it to her. She scans it, looking it over like she's a private detective. After a moment, she hands my phone back. "I guess it's fine. It doesn't say anything fishy. But it's still weird that it was posted on social media."

That's the thought I had when I saw the ad. The post said to send an email instead of a DM, so I did and got a reply with tons of paperwork. It was organized and well prepared. If someone is looking to kidnap applicants, they sure went through a lot of trouble to do that.

"It is," I say, "but it seems on the up and up. I'll leave the address so you'll know where I am and I'll turn on the location on my phone. You'll know where I am the entire time."

"Good. When is your interview?"

"Today actually. In two hours."

Hazel nods. "Well, good luck. The kids and I will be gone by then." A smile spreads across her beautiful face and I can't help mirroring it. "You're gonna fucking kill it. You were so great with the twins. I know you'll have these parents eating out of the palm of your hand."

"Let's hope so," I say with a wink.

A few minutes later, breakfast is finished and we all sit down to eat before Hazel takes the kids to daycare and she heads to work as a dental office manager.

I putter around the house for a while, cleaning up and generally keeping myself busy until it's time to leave. As I told Hazel I would, I turn on the location on my phone and send her the address that was at the bottom of the application. She sends me a thumbs up and a GIF of a dancing daisy that says good luck over it. I smile and pocket my phone, heading to the interview with butterflies swarming in my belly.

The Uber ride is about twenty minutes, weaving deeper into Mellbind. I've lived here almost my entire life, but I tend to stay away from this area. There's nothing wrong with it, but it's for older people. The houses are nice and tidy, spaced out with large yards that have roses and shit planted in their cute little flower beds. It's a nice area, but I'm used to hanging out closer to the college where people my age live.

Butterflies threaten to choke me, swimming up from my belly and clogging my throat as the Uber drive stops in front of a quaint brick house with a cute little porch that even has a swing attached. The garage is open and I spot an old American car—I don't know the model—and a newer SUV in the driveway.

"Here ya go," the Uber driver says unnecessarily. I thank him and climb out, looking around as I make my way to the door. This is the only yard that doesn't have flowers growing around the outside, but it's still nice.

The sound of the crying baby greets me as soon as my foot hits the bottom step of the porch. Someone isn't happy.

I ring the doorbell, hoping the parents can hear it over the shrill cries. Poor little guy. The application said it's a little boy. My hands are already itching to comfort him, to calm him so he can get some rest. He sounds exhausted.

The door opens and a handsome white guy with brown hair and haggard looking brown eyes greets me. He smiles warmly, bouncing the crying baby in his arms. "Can I help you? "

"Yes," I say, raising my voice so I can be heard over the crying. "I'm Omari Williams."

The man's smile grows. "Yes, hi. Come on in. Give me a moment to get the baby a bottle."

He waves me in and hustles to the kitchen. I look around the place, trying to find something … homey about it. But it looks very utilitarian. Nothing personal that says someone lives here. From the father's appearance, he's put together and looks like he would have … something that makes this place look like home. All I can see are baby clothes and baby items everywhere. Other than that, it just looks like a place someone might come to rest in on occasion. No photos or even mail visible.

The man comes back, still rocking the baby, whose face has turned red from the force of his crying. I don't want to be presumptuous and offer to take him, so I fist my hands by my side.

"I'm sorry," the stressed father says, patting the baby's thigh gently as he rocks him. "I think he's hungry, but he won't take a bottle." He looks at me with tired eyes. "We can go over your application if you'd like. I looked it over last night and right before you came. You have experience with kids?"

"Yes," I say, glancing back and forth between him and the baby. "I don't have, like, a degree or anything. But I helped raise my niece and nephew after …" The baby ramps up the crying, his voice warbling with the force of it.

I can't take it anymore. "Give him to me, please," I practically beg, holding my hands out.

The man glances down at the baby, then at me. He looks so helpless, like he wants assistance, but doesn't trust me just yet to hand him over. I make the decision for him and tuck my hands under the baby and draw him out of the man's arms. I take the bottle and rub the bottle nipple on the baby's gums, humming to him while I walk around the room.

Almost instantly, the baby stops crying and takes the bottle, sucking on it greedily. "Not so fast," I whisper with a smile, drawing the bottle out just a little so he doesn't choke. When he drinks at a more casual pace, I pat his leg. "There ya go, little man. Why were you giving Dad so much trouble, huh?"

The man pipes up. "Oh no, I'm not his dad. I'm just here to help for a little while." He steps over to us, looking down at the baby. "I think this is the first time I've seen him quiet. How did you do that?"

Continuing to rock the baby gently and feed him the bottle, I say, "You're wound up. He can feel how stressed you are and it stresses him. If you're calm, babies are usually calm too. Not always, but most times." The bottle is drained, and the baby's eyes are drooping. He's probably so tired after all that crying. I hand the bottle to the man and put the baby against my shoulder, patting his back. "Give me one good burp and I'll let you get some sleep, little man. What's his name?"

"Rafael. After his uncle."

"Rafael. How adorable. Come on, Little Raf. Burp for me and I'll leave you alone, I promise." As if on cue, the baby burps loud and long. Then he lets out a soft sigh and rests on my shoulder, his head to the side. I look over at him and can't help how my heart softens. His little mouth is open, his soft baby breaths puffing against my cheek.

"We can have a seat here," the man whispers.

"Don't do that," I tell him, speaking at a normal volume. "You want the baby to be used to the normal volume of a room. That way they can sleep through anything." While I'm speaking, Little Raf doesn't stir.

After he sees that he won't wake, the man motions over to the couch. I sit down on the hard surface. It's definitely more for aesthetics than functionality.

"My name is Shane Astor. I'm a lawyer and work for Baby Rafael's uncle. His father and mother passed away in a car accident a few weeks ago."

"Oh god, I'm sorry." I look over at Little Raf, my heart going out to him. To lose both of his parents at such an early age is tragic. Just like I feel about my niece and nephew, kids should know their parents. I'm still saddened they'll never know their father.

Shane nods. "I can't accept those condolences, since I didn't know his parents, but I'm sure his uncle will appreciate them. Since I'm an attorney, he asked me for help vetting people that applied for the job. Your background check is clean and you appear to be good with kids."

"I'm sorry," I say, interrupting him. "Where is his uncle? Does he not want the responsibility and is pawning it off on you?" I don't like the thought of that. It won't mean anything good for Little Raf if his uncle is MIA after losing his parents so young.

"He had to run an errand with my boyfriend. They left only a few minutes before you arrived. They should be heading back shortly."

I nod, rubbing the baby's back to give myself something to do. "I'd really like to talk to him. He'll be the one paying me if I'm hired."

The rumbling of motorcycles sounds down the street and I find it odd. This isn't the type of neighborhood that would house bikers. And the only ones I know are those that belong to Devil's Mayhem.

My heart hammers in my chest as I think about both the tall dark-skinned guy that accosted me on the dance floor when I was selling pills and the owner of the club that had me choked out against his office door .

But now that I'm no longer in the situation, I have to admit that the owner was one of the handsomest men I've ever laid eyes on. His hawklike eyes, dark hair, and plump mouth have been swimming behind my eyes every time I try to fall asleep. He plays major roles in all my spank bank material, even though I know I should be afraid of him. I'm not sure if a fear kink is a thing, since I can't seem to convince my body that he is not our friend.

The sounds of the motorcycles get closer, until they're right outside the door. Little Raf stirs, but I bounce him more so he'll settle. It takes a few seconds, but he only lets out a yawn before his mouth drops open again and he lets out little baby noises. I grin down at him, rubbing an index finger over his chubby little cheek.

I look back up at Shane, who has a nervous look on his face. The motorcycles outside have been turned off and I hear voices just outside the door. Shane speaks fast. "Hear him out before you turn the job down. He really needs help. I don't want him to lose the last bit of family he has left."

I start to ask who he's talking about when the door opens and in walks the dark-skinned guy that almost broke my hand at Club Inferno and behind him is the owner that scared the shit out of me.

It's a fight to stay seated. The only reason I do is because Little Raf is asleep and it seems like he hasn't slept peacefully in a while.

The dark-skinned man smiles, but it's not aimed at me—he only has eyes for Shane. "Hey, Counselor," he practically purrs. He stalks over to Shane, pulls him to his feet and kisses him soundly. My eyebrows shoot up. I would say they don't look like they match, but that's not exactly true. For some reason, they complement each other, even though they haven't spoken but those few words. It's a vibe they give off, like they're meant to be .

When they separate, Shane's cheeks are flushed. "Hey, Enforcer. How did it go?"

"Good. It was just a flat. I could have gone alone, but …"

The Hispanic man behind him steps forward, looking at me holding Little Raf with a sneer. "What are you doing here?"

"I applied for the job," I say in a quiet voice, afraid he'll attack me if I speak louder than a whisper. "I didn't know it was for you or I wouldn't have shown up."

The club owner's—who I assume is the uncle Rafael since he and the baby look just alike—lip curls, but he doesn't get a chance to retort before the man that almost broke my hand walks over to the couch, kneeling in front of me and rubbing Little Raf's back. "How did you make him stop crying?" He looks up at me with an almost friendly smile.

I raise an eyebrow. "I didn't make him do anything. I fed him and rocked him to sleep."

"We tried that. Maybe he doesn't like me." He sits back on his heels with a frown. "Everyone likes me. Babies should too." His eyes bounce up to meet mine. "You like me right?" I give him a wide eyed look. He simply smiles and says, "I'm Zeke. Pleasure to meet you." He holds his hand out.

Stunned, I shuffle the baby around and shake his hand. "Omari. I would say the same, but I'm not real sure our first meeting was a pleasure at all."

He barks a laugh and Little Raf stirs. I pat his back and he settles back to sleep quickly. I look at the man near the door who is still scowling at me and say, "I take it you're Rafael, the uncle that Little Raf is named for?"

"That's him," Zeke says with humor in his tone.

"Not him," Rafael says to Shane, but his gaze is locked on me. "Get someone else."

Zeke stands up and turns to face him. "Prez, there ain't nobody else. Everyone that's interviewed has either not been able to get Baby Rafael to stop crying or they ran for the hills when they found out you were the baby's uncle. This kid is still here, so fucking chill out. You need the help."

Shane bustles over, gently taking the baby from my arms. I miss his solid weight and warmth already. "I'll put him down so we can talk. Then you can figure out if you want to take the job. Please don't leave." He whispers that last bit.

The angry man comes over to the couch and sits at the other end, glaring at me like I kicked his puppy. "What do you know about kids?"

"Enough that I got him to sleep," I say with challenge. "What about you?"

Zeke laughs, clapping his hands. "I knew I liked you. You got some balls, dude. Most people look at Prez and piss their pants."

"Yeah, well," I say, crossing my arms as I glare back at him, "I'm not most people." It's a near thing that I don't flinch away and piss my pants. He's fucking terrifying. But his attitude is irritating me, making me braver than I am.

Before he can retort, Shane comes back, a bright smile on his face. He takes a seat in the recliner and Zeke perches on the arm of the chair. "That's the first time since he's been here that he went to sleep from eating and not from exhausting himself crying. Omari, you're the baby whisperer."

I grin at him. "No, I just remember to stay calm with babies, even when it's overwhelming."

Rafael scoffs and I glower at him. Shane sits forward on the recliner, getting my attention. "The advertisement said live-in. You'll need to move in as soon as possible so you can start your duties. That'll include taking care of Baby Rafael around the clock. Feeding, changing, any social activities, that sort of thing." He tells me the pay and my eyes nearly bug out. I have to fight to contain my surprise at such a large amount.

"That's fine and all," I say to Shane, still looking at Rafael, "but why are you telling me all this and not Little Raf's guardian?"

Leaning up and resting his elbows on his knees, Rafael says, "If it were up to me, you wouldn't be here. But I won't deny that you're the best option we got. Maybe even the only option. You haven't run scared so you're either stupid or tough. I'm more inclined to go with stupid. Why should I trust someone around my nephew that was caught selling drugs in my club?"

Zeke groans. "Okay, Prez. You need to chill, for real. I love you, but you're being a dick."

Rafael growls. "Know your place, Enforcer." Zeke rolls his eyes but says nothing.

"It's okay," I say in Zeke's direction. "He can call me whatever names you want, doesn't bother me. What matters is the little boy in that room." I point down the hall. "He needs someone and it's obvious it's not you." Rafael's eyes darken, but I'm not done. I might be signing my own death warrant, but whatever. "I'm not afraid of you." That's a lie. "I won't go running and screaming from the house because you're powerful and scary. I need the job and you need help. Let's just agree to work together for the sake of Little Raf, yeah?" I pause a moment, then say, "Kind of the pot calling the kettle black about selling, don't you think?"

Again, Zeke barks a laugh. "Oh, I really fucking like him. Let's go, Shane. They can work this out themselves."

Shane stands and twists his hands in front of him. "There's a contract for you to sign to work as the live-in nanny for the next year. Prez has it. Call or text me if you need anything, Omari. I do mean anything." He hands me a card with his office and cell number on it. Shane Astor, Attorney at Law is embossed on the front. He's fancy.

"I'm not going to kill him, Counselor," Rafael growls. Shane gives him a look that says he's not so sure he won't. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

The two of them leave and Rafael and I are left to scowl at each other. I'm not sure how long we stare before I chuckle and shake my head. "Do you want me to go? Like I said, I need this job, but I'm not gonna beg to be here if you're gonna be a dick to me. I think I can do a good job for you and Little Raf."

"Stop calling him that," he snarls.

"Are you always so grumpy?"

"I'm not grumpy. I'm tired."

"Then go take a nap." He has bags and dark circles under his eyes, and his cheeks look sunken. Nothing like what he looked like when I was up close and personal with him in the nightclub.

Voice softening, I repeat, "Take a nap. I'll take the job. I'll start now. Go get some rest. Little Raf will be fine when he wakes up." I stand to make my way to the baby's room when Rafael grabs me by the arm and pushes me against the wall. He crowds me, one hand beside my head while the other clenches my arm.

"Do not do anything I don't like while I'm asleep. I will fucking hunt you down and hurt you if you mistreat my nephew."

My heart leaps into my throat. His dark eyes bore into me, emphasizing he means every word he spoke. There is no reason I should find that hot as fuck, but apparently I have a problem. Just as I thought it was hot in his office when he threatened me with bodily harm, I have the same opinion now as he's threatening me about his flesh and blood.

I bite my lips to contain the tiny whimper that wants to drift from my mouth. My dick chubs up despite my fear. I gaze into Rafael's eyes, knowing he will do what he says and more if I fuck up.

But I refuse to let him run over me and threaten me so I fear him. He needs me, not the other way around.

I place a hand on his chest and give him a nudge. He holds his ground for a moment more, then steps back, dropping his hands to his sides. "This is part of the reason no one wants to work for you." Rafael looks stunned, like he didn't expect me to say what I did. "That macho shit may work with some people, but not me. I wouldn't dream of hurting a child. Besides, your lawyer has all my information. Where would I go that you wouldn't find me?" He opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand, making his eyes darken further when I stop him from interrupting. "Save it. I'll tell you this one time and one time only. Don't threaten me. You talk to me like a normal person or I walk."

He curls his lip as he stares me down, then turns on his heels and marches to a room that's at the other end of the house. His gait is wobbly, like he's dead on his feet, his shoulders slumped forward. He opens the door and closes it with a soft click.

I slump against the wall, my heart hammering. Fuck, I'm not sure if this job is a blessing or a curse.

Shaking my head, I go to the nursery and peek inside, making sure Little Raf is sleeping before I head to the room right next door that Shane said I would be sleeping in. The room is decently sized, a little bigger than the nursery. There's a full-sized bed with what looks like clean sheets on it, a three-drawer dresser with a small thirty-two inch TV on top of it. The closet is open with hangers inside, waiting for me to put my clothes away. It's not much, but it's better than sleeping on my sister's couch.

Hopefully, this job works out so I don't have to go back.