Page 15 of The Prez

Peals of laughterand clapping wake me from my slumber. I sit up quickly, reaching over to my nightstand to grab my gun. Then I remember Omari is here with Baby Rafael.

Blowing out a hard breath, I toss my legs over the side of the bed and put my head in my hands.

Fucking Omari.

I never thought I’d see him again and didn’t want to. When I saw him selling in my club, I wanted to toss him out on his ass, maybe give him a shiner to remember me by. But the longer I watched him, the more drawn to him I was. Don’t know why. I’ve never had an interest in men. But he had a quality about him that I noticed even from so far away. When he was sitting in my office, it was even more apparent. It’s part of the reason I watched him selling pills in my club for almost a month before I tossed him out. I had to get my fill of him before I banned his ass for good.

Omari is fucking stunning. His face, his body, his fucking attitude drove me crazy in the space of a few minutes in myoffice. I don’t usually have to be forceful with anyone, even if they don’t do as I say—that’s what the enforcer’s job is for. But Omari’s presence made me feel so unhinged that I exploded, grabbing him and shoving him against my office door.

But that was one of the worst decisions I ever made. The feel of the soft skin of his throat was permanently etched into the palm of my hand. Even now, I’m itching to touch him again, to see if his skin is soft everywhere.

Another burst of laughing and cheering snaps me out of my wicked thoughts. Dios, I need to get laid.

After sliding my pants back on, I step into the living room, searching for the reason for all the excitement.

Omari and Baby Rafael are lying on the floor. Baby Rafael is on his front, poised on his arms and teetering to the left. Beside him, Omari is laying on his side, his head resting on his palm.

“Come on, big man,” he whispers, smiling at the baby. “One more. You can do it. Come on.”

Baby Rafael babbles and screeches, lifting one of his tiny legs off the floor. Then his body pitches to the side and he rolls over. He gargles a laugh, reaching his hands up to grab at Omari.

“Good job, Little Raf,” Omari says to him, voice filled with pride.

My chest squeezes. Elena should be doing this. She should be seeing her son roll over, not some stranger that sells drugs in my club.

Not taking his eyes off the baby, Omari asks, “Did you sleep well?”

I grunt and walk past them, going to the kitchen to grab a beer. I pop it open and suck down half of it, letting the sting and burn ease my tumultuous thoughts. When I pull thebottle from my lips, I go back to the living room and settle on the couch. Omari looks at me, then does a double take, his eyes drifting down my chest. I undressed when I laid down for a nap and I didn’t bother to put a shirt on before I came out here. My skin heats under his attention.

I look down at my chest and see myself how Omari must see me—a canvas of bright colors, a mosaic of art. I got my first tattoo when I was sixteen, my mama’s name and the date of her death. Almost every year since then, I’ve added to it. A portrait of my first Harley, the date I joined the MC, flowers for all of my dead, a set of wings to symbolize the freedom I have when I ride. Those and more adorn my chest and back, up and down my arms and the back of my hands. Most of what I have can be covered by my shirts.

His eyes linger on the thick, jagged scar on my left side. A scar that all the tattoos in the world can’t cover. A scar that brings back bad memories. A scar I got the day I completely lost any innocence I tried to hold on to. A scar that reminds me of the day I lost my entire world.

I drop my arm to cover it, giving him a hard look, almost daring him to ask me where it came from so I can fucking snap.

Omari swallows roughly, then drags his eyes slowly up to meet mine. When I simply stare at him, he rolls his eyes. “I asked you a question.”

“Fine,” I answer, swigging my beer again.

He scoffs, shaking his head as he turns Baby Rafael back over to his belly. “While you were asleep,” he says but keeps looking at the baby, “I looked through Little Raf’s things.” I scowl at the stupid nickname, but don’t correct him. It’s whatever. “He needs diapers, wipes, and formula. I also noticed you don’t have a first aid kit for him. No meds. He’ll need?—”

I cut him off. “Just tell me how much it’ll cost and you pick up all the shit he needs. Entendido?”

Omari turns to me with a raised eyebrow. “Okay,” he says, dragging the word out. “We should also child proof the house.” He picks the baby up, standing him on his feet so he can bounce. “Little man is going to start crawling soon and we don’t want him to get into anything he shouldn’t.”

“Whatever.” I finish my beer and take it to the kitchen. I go back to my room, scoop up my car keys and go back to the living room. “Here are the car keys. The new car seat is in the garage. I tossed the one from the accident.” By the time we were ready to leave the hospital with Baby Rafael, it was late and we were ready to get home. The police officers that were on the scene of Elena’s accident brought over the car seat, but I tossed it as soon as we got home and ordered a new one. It was harder to put in that the first one, so I didn’t bother.

“The SUV?” he asks and I nod. His eyes widen, but he simply nods. “When did you bring him home?”

“Two weeks ago.”

Omari looks at me incredulously. “You haven’t taken him out of the house in two weeks?”

“So?” Something about that makes my neck burn with embarrassment.

He sighs, standing up with the baby and taking him over to the window. Omari pulls the curtains back and points outside. Rafael squeals and waves his hands. “He needs to go outside sometimes. Even if it’s just for a few minutes.”

“I don’t care about any of that shit,” I mutter. I hold up the keys, dangling them. “Use this to go and get your stuff since you’re moving in.” Omari rolls his eyes and grabs the keys from my hands. “You have a license?”

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