Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

RAFAEL

My eyes feel heavy and itchy as I blink them open. Bright white lights make me close them again, tears welling as they attempt to adjust. When I think I can, I open them again, looking left and right, taking in my surroundings. The blood pressure cuff on my bicep, IVs in my arm, a cocktail of something dripping in my veins.

I croak, trying to yell, to ask someone what the fuck is going on. Beeping from the machine beside me has a nurse in white scrubs running into my room, a worried look on her face. When her eyes land on me, she smiles and says in Spanish, "Mr. Orozco. You gave your family quite a fright. They're in the other room. Would you like to see them?"

I nod, trying to sit up, but unable to. Everything hurts and I'm so tired. But I need answers. Where is Mama? Where is Elena? Is Papa dead or was it all just a dream?

I raise my hand to my head, trying to rub away the headache. Just as exhaustion threatens to take over, my older sister, Maria, rushes into the room, her eyes red and her face drawn and haggard. When she sees me, she bursts into tears, wracking sobs making her body tremble .

"Little brother," she says in Spanish. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." She sits on my bed and lays her head on my chest, her tears wetting my hospital gown.

I pat her back for lack of anything else to do. Maria is five years older than me, married with kids. She tried to take me in when Papa started to stalk Mama again, but I wouldn't leave Elena. She didn't have anyone. Maria and I share a father and we have miles of family across the island. Most of Mama's family cut her off because of her involvement with Papa. I couldn't leave Elena at home with Mama when Papa kept promising to hurt them both.

"Mama?" I manage to squeak out, my voice feeling scratchy and hurting my throat. "Elena?"

Maria lifts her head, wiping under her eyes to clean her face, but tears keep leaking. "I'm sorry, Raf. Papa … he … he killed her." Her face goes hard, even as tears leak from her eyes. "He was a fucking monster and you gave him what he deserved."

So it's true. I killed him. He won't be coming back for us. But fuck, I wasn't able to save Mama. I was too late. Tears prick my eyes, but they refuse to fall. Even as hurt seizes me, my heart hardens. I'm a failure. I failed her.

"Elena?" I ask again, needing to know my sister is alive and well. "Where is she?"

Maria's bottom lip trembles. "Her papa came to get her. We tried to get him to at least wait until you woke up so you could say goodbye, but he …" she pauses and looks at me with sad eyes.

"He what?" I snap, needing to hear it. I need to know why my little sister, who I tried to protect with my life, was taken from me before I could say goodbye.

Sighing, Maria says, "He said this family was poison and his little girl won't be a part of it. He said she'll never set foot in Cuba again and none of us will ever hear from her. She's gone, Raf." Maria cries more, laying back on my chest, avoiding my uninjured side .

My mind blanks of everything but one thought: I failed them. I failed them all.

I shoot up from my nightmare, breathing heavily as sweat drips from my brow. Fuck!

Tossing my legs over the side of the bed, I put my head in my trembling hands, trying to catch my breath. It's been years since I had that dream. Years since I thought about the day my heart shattered for the last time. It's been decades since I pieced together the shattered parts of my soul so I can put one foot in front of the other and not give up.

Why now? Why did that dream come back to me now?

It has to be because of Little Raf. He has me thinking about Elena more and more. When I see his wide brown eyes, happy smile and thick lock of black hair falling into his face, all I see is Elena.

Blowing out a hard breath and scrubbing a hand down my face, I climb out of bed to get a bottle of water and maybe stand out on the porch to get some fresh air.

Sliding a pair of sleep pants over my bare ass, I open my door and take two steps into the living room and freeze. Omari is in the kitchen, bending to look in the fridge. And holy fuck, he has on the smallest, tightest pair of shorts I've ever seen. His plush ass cheeks peek from the bottom, the plump flesh on display for me. Fuck, Omari is sexy as fuck.

He's been here for almost a week and this is the first time I've seen him in something like this. I usually come in late at night from the clubhouse and Omari and the baby are asleep, so that could be why. During the day, I try to stay away from the house as much as possible.

After he retrieves what he reached into the fridge for—a container of strawberry yogurt—he turns around and jumps when he sees me. "Fucking shit!" he exclaims, his hand on his chest as the yogurt squirts everywhere. He squeezed the container in his fright, getting most of it on his hands. "Why are you creeping up on me?"

I raise an eyebrow. "The kitchen is public space, precioso." I feel my face heat at the endearment. Thankfully, Omari doesn't comment on it, so I don't think he knows much Cubano. "I came to get a bottle of water."

"Need to put a bell on you," Omari mutters as he turns to get some paper towels. I watch openly as he gets on the floor, his ass facing me, to wipe up the spilled yogurt. My hands twitch to grab him by his hips, pull off those teasing fucking shorts, and bury my cock in him as deep as I can while he begs me for more.

I clear that thought from my head. Omari is my nanny and I will not fall for my fucking nanny like some fucking leading man in a chick flick. Besides that, he looks at me like I'm scum because of Baby Rafael. I have less than a snowball's chance in hell of burying anything in Omari.

When he's finished and throws the paper towels in the trash, he turns around and looks at me, still standing just inside the kitchen. "What?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He has on a tight shirt that shows the roundness of his belly and I itch to touch him there, to feel his softness under the calloused palms of my hands.

Dios, he has such a fucking attitude all the time. It's as arousing as it is annoying. "Do I need to report what I'm doing in the kitchen of my own home to you?"

"You do when you fucking stare at me like a creeper."

Ignoring his snark, I go to the fridge, bumping him out of my way and pull out a bottle of water. I could swear I hear Omari call me a psychopath.

Turning around, I demand, "Come again."

"Only psychopaths keep their water in the fridge."

"Then you should be afraid you're living with a psychopath," I tell him, swigging the cold water. It helps to push away the feeling of inadequacy that's been stuck with me since Little Raf got here, made stronger by my dream tonight.

Fuck, when did I start calling him Little Raf?

Omari scoffs, leaning against the counter across from me. "Not even close."

My lips tip up at his lie.

While we stand there, I let my eyes roam down his body, taking in all the skin that's showing. Just as I thought, he's smooth everywhere. His skin looks soft and I want to reach out to see if it's true.

Omari clears his throat and I raise my eyes to meet his. He has a confused look on his face but doesn't comment on my staring. Instead, he says, "I want to start Little Raf on solid foods. Nothing major. Mainly carrots, peas, potatoes, eggs. Soft stuff. Do you know about any allergies your sister may have had?" He asks the question delicately and while I appreciate it, it irritates me. Because I don't know. She could have been introduced to any number of things we didn't eat with Mama and reacted badly. Or been allergic to something like a new strand of fucking grass not on native to our island. I wouldn't know.

"None that I know of," I say through clenched teeth.

He nods, seeming to file that information away. "Okay. I'll go slow, doing veggies before we make our way up to anything else. I want him to get used to the mushy stuff first." He smiles at me, but it falters when I don't return it. "Little Raf needs to go to a pediatrician. I asked Shane about his insurance information, but he said you have everything."

My stomach swoops and a flash of anger descends on me. Why is he asking Shane? Why didn't he ask me anything he needs to know about my nephew?

Because you're a shitty uncle , I answer myself. Still, I don't let the anger go. It gets under my skin that I'm not dependable and Omari knows it. Little Raf knows it. Everyone knows it.

I'm a failure.

"Is Shane his uncle?" I snap at Omari, crushing the empty bottle in my hand. "Next time, ask his fucking guardian."

Omari's head snaps back and fire enters his eyes. He's gearing up for a good one and I have to admit it's sexy as fuck. "Well, you haven't been uncle of the fucking year. You've been absent and anytime I try to include you on anything about Little Raf, you shy away or dismiss me. I haven't even seen you hold him and I've been here for almost a week. Excuse me for asking someone that actually gives a fuck."

His words are a punch to the gut but I can't refute them. I have been absent, but I can't figure out how to even bridge that gap. Not between me and Little Raf, but between me and Elena.

I don't have answers from her. I don't have closure because she's not around to tell me anything. I have to guess why things unfolded the way they did. Guilt for not taking care of her eat away at me, and I know if I try to be what Little Raf needs, I'll fail him too.

But Omari looking at me the way he is, his eyes full of accusation does something to me. I don't like it. Normally, what people think of me means less than nothing, but not with Omari.

Exhaling slowly, I lean back against the counter and run my fingers through my hair. "I know." I look up at him, seeing surprise cross his face. I might be a son of a bitch, but I can admit when I'm in the wrong. "I can't … it's hard, okay?"

The anger drains out of Omari's face and is replaced with … sy mpathy. Not pity like I would assume, but he actually feels bad for me. My heart thumps hard, a new, foreign feeling swooping low in my belly. "Why?" He leans back, resting his elbows on the lip by the sink. I have to fight to keep my eyes from dragging down his body. "What's hard about it? He's your blood, your family. You shouldn't treat him like you do."

Again, I bristle, even though I know he's right. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." My voice is hard, spitting the words at him like barbs.

He's not flustered at all. "Then help me understand. I want to help Little Raf. That means making sure he has a relationship with his uncle and knows his uncle loves him. I want what's best for him. He deserves it."

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" I can barely contain my anger. Partially because Omari looks so fucking unflappable when I'm coming apart inside. The tattered remnants of my soul are fraying at the edges. If I'm not careful, they'll split and I'll be ruined.

Crossing his arms back over his chest, Omari nods, biting his plump lower lip. "I know you do. You're a smart guy for a biker." He fucking winks at me and some of my attitude recedes. Huh, the nanny might not be afraid of me after all. "Seriously, though, Big Raf. All you have to do is put forth the effort. Try to get to know him. Ask after him. Fucking hold him." His voice sounds pleading.

After a few beats of silence, I blow out a deep breath and nod. "Yeah," I say, even though I'm not sure if I mean it. "I can try."

He smiles at me and god damn. Omari has to be the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life. His brown eyes are warm as he stares at me, his lips curved just for me. "That's enough. For now, it's enough." He sighs and uncrosses his arms again, pushing off the counter. "It's late. I should get to bed." In a low, somber tone, he says, "I shouldn't be up getting snacks this late anyway."

I raise an eyebrow. "Is there a set time to eat yogurt?"

"What?" he asks, looking at me curiously. "No. It's just late and I shouldn't be snacking."

"Why?"

He gives me a droll look. "You see what I look like."

"I do." Again, I drag my eyes down his body, taking in his lush frame.

"So, you also know I shouldn't be eating so much. I don't want to gain more weight." He sounds so miserable because he thinks he's undesirable because of his body size. It makes me burn with anger, but I swallow it down. I think he's had enough of my anger tonight.

Tossing my bottle of water in trash, I turn to look at him. "There's nothing wrong with you, Omari. You look good."

A disbelieving laugh bursts from him. "Yeah, okay. You don't have to lie to make me feel better."

He won't believe me unless he has tangible proof. It's not a hardship. I've wanted to be close to him anyway.

Pushing off the counter, I walk over to him slowly, giving him time to move if he'd like. Omari's eyes grow wide, but all he does is lean back tighter into the counter, his breathing coming out a little faster.

When I'm standing just in front of him, towering over him, I wrap my hand around his waist and pull him closer to me. His breath hitches when I slide my hand under his shirt, feeling his soft skin. My cock lengthens as I touch him and listen to his hitching breaths. Omari's lips part as he stares up at me, panting as his gaze bores into mine.

Bending until our lips almost touch, I tell him, "I don't lie." I roll my hips so he can feel what he does to me. "There's nothing wrong with your body." He drops his head to release a sharp breath, but I tip it back up. "You look good. Entendido?"

He licks his lips, but nods. "I understand."

"Good." I step back and adjust my cock in my pajama pants so he can see. I look down at the bulge in his tiny shorts and know he feels exactly what I do. "Sleep well, precioso."

It's difficult to walk with a hard on, but I manage. I barely get my bedroom door closed behind me before my hand is down my pants, pulling my cock out and tugging on it. My piercing catches in my palm and I groan, loving the bite of pain in the action.

I close my eyes and think about Omari's soft skin, his wide, innocent eyes, his plump ass that I longed to grab while I buried myself inside what I'm sure is a nice, tight hole.

"Fuck," I grunt, fucking my fist dry as I imagine how fucking good he would feel around me. There's no denying I want the fucking nanny, no denying that I can't wait to slam into him until my cock is imprinted on his walls.

Precum leaks from the head of my dick and I thumb through it, using it to wet my shaft.

Thinking of Omari's brown eyes looking up at me while I drive into him pushes me over the edge. I grunt as I explode, barely managing to catch my release with my free hand.

My cock kicks repeatedly, ropes of cum shooting out of me. My knees buckle and I have to clench my teeth so I don't shout loud enough to wake the fucking neighbors.

When I'm spent, I sag against my door, trying to catch my breath. I've never come that hard before, not even when I was deep inside one of the hangarounds. I barely touched Omari and he has me filling my fist with spunk.

"Dios," I mutter, knocking my head against the door. The fucking nanny will be the death of me .

After I clean myself up, I climb between the sheets and sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next morning, my phone wakes me with an incoming text from Jace.

Jace: Hey, are we going to have a meeting soon? The Hunterfield chapter is opening next month and we need to organize the ride.

Fuck, I completely forgot about the chapter opening. I've been so up in my head with Christian and Elena and Little Raf … and Omari, that I haven't thought about shit for the club. I'm glad I tapped Jace as my vice president. He's smart and organized. He can handle shit until I get my head on straight.

I quickly shoot him a text back.

Me: Heading in now. Give me an hour.

I toss my phone on the bed and head into my en suite bathroom. I take a quick shower, then get dressed in a black shirt and black slacks.

When I step out into the living room, I find Omari on the couch with Little Raf in his arms. He's holding the baby's tiny hands and making him clap while Little Raf blows raspberries. My heart clenches at the sight. Omari is so good with him. He's the type of parent Little Raf deserves .

Why can't I be like that? Why can't I learn to be the type of parent Little Raf needs?

Omari looks over at me and his eyes grow wide. His light brown cheeks flush and he licks his lips nervously. "Good morning, Big Raf."

I raise an eyebrow at him. I guess that name is going to stick. "Morning. Sleep well?"

He breathes a soft laugh. "No, not really." He looks at me knowingly and I feel my lips twitch. I'm glad to know I wasn't the only one feeling out of sorts last night. "Heading out on your bike?" He looks me up and down. "Shouldn't you be wearing something like leather and what not?"

I chuckle, tucking my helmet under my arm. "I've been riding like this for decades, precioso. I'm perfectly safe."

He grunts but doesn't say anything to the contrary. Little Raf reaches up and pulls on his ear and Omari smiles down at him. "You want all my attention, huh, big man?"

"How is he?" I blurt out before I lose my nerve. "Is he … happy?"

Omari looks up at me with a soft expression. "He's one of the happiest babies I've ever met." He stands up with the chunky baby in his arms, his dark hair flopping in his eyes. "Wanna hold him?"

I shake my head and step back. He'll know. If I touch Little Raf, he'll know that I'm a failure and I wouldn't be able to protect him. Even as a baby, he'll know. I can't do that to him. I can't risk him hating me.

"No," I say and Omari stops, his eyes sad. "I'll get him some insurance today so you can take him to his appointments." I scurry out of the door before they both see how much of a failure I am.