Amara (Reapers MC Book 12)

by Elizabeth Knox

  Why would something like this even matter? “If she does, she’s giving her child to a family who’s craved one, giving an incredible gift. Why would this dissuade me? Is that what you’re hoping to achieve?” Never in my life has Eduardo acted this way toward me. In the back of my mind I’m wondering if he does have a thing for Amara and he’s lying to me about it.

  “I just don’t think my little manwhore of a cousin should be chasing after a woman who’s been through hell. Especially one whose sister I—” Eduardo immediately shuts his mouth.

  “Ah, now this all makes sense. You have a thing for her sister. Don’t you, dear cousin?” I chuckle at the end, knowing I now have something to hold over his head.

  “I might, but one thing I can say is how it’s none of your damn business.” Eduardo growls lowly.

  “Isn’t her sister younger, too? What is she . . . half your age?” I chuckle, enjoying this more than I thought.

  “It’s none of your fucking business, Dante.” He reiterates.

  “I could say the same. Now, I’ll let you do what you like as long as you leave me and my endeavors alone as well. Do we have an agreement?”

  Eduardo rolls his eyes. I backed him into a corner, and he knows it. “Fine. But if you hurt her, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, and that’s a promise. Even if you are mi familia . . . I don’t give a fuck.”

  I’m unable to hold back my smirk. “Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  The door to the bedroom opens and the doctor walks out into the living area, with Amara by her side. “Well?” Eduardo asks, looking at the both of them.

  “Perfectly healthy. But, she could go into labor any day now. Be prepared for that, will you?”

  “I don’t think anyone is ever prepared for it.” I mutter under my breath.

  Amara must hear what I’ve said, because she fights to hold back her smile.

  “We’ll do our best. I think we should get on the road. We have a few more hours ahead of us until we’re in Mexico City. At that point we can get you settled.”

  “What’s in Mexico City?” Amara questions.

  “My father’s estate. It’s massive, and very well defended.” I answer her.

  “We’re going to your father’s house?” She questions, and I can only imagine what’s running through her mind. She’s the kin of our last enemy. She must be fearful my father wants to meet her to harm her in some way, but I will do my best to calm her worries.

  “Yes. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He only wants to ensure you’re alright and in the best care.” I say.

  Amara breathes heavily, “How do you expect me to believe that? You know who my uncle was . . . what he did to the country, to the people . . .”

  “You aren’t Rafael, my dear.” Eduardo says.

  I’m a bit annoyed he called her his dear, but I know he’s only trying to ease her mind. It’s not like she needs to be worrying right now. The doc did just say she could go into labor very soon. I don’t know much about childbirth, but I’m pretty sure stress has something to do with it.

  “We should really get going. The last thing we want is a baby delivered in the car with a group of men who know nothing about delivering them.” I joke, getting a laugh from Amara.

  “That would be a nightmare.” She continues to laugh and starts to walk in my direction.

  As she approaches me, I take this moment for what it is— an opportunity. “I don’t believe we had a formal introduction. I’m Dante Sebastián Lopez.” I state, extending my hand.

  She scrunches up her nose and cocks a brow. “You already know who the hell I am . . . so, stop being all weird and shit. Eduardo, are we ready?” She walks past me and when Eduardo passes me, he snickers as a way to rub in how I just failed at that attempt.

  Chapter Nine

  All she wanted was for someone to look at her and see the person she hid so well

  ~ Unknown

  Amara

  He said I’d be safe here, and yet the only thing I’m feeling is turmoil. We entered his father’s estate about an hour ago, through the cast iron gate and what had to be a fifteen-foot burnt orange wall. The same color is on the outside of the house while the trim is white, brightening it up a bit.

  We parked the SUV in one of the three garage bays. However, their garage isn’t like any I’ve seen before. It’s built into this giant wall of stone. The doors must be thirty feet apart, and instead of rolling up like a normal garage door does, these open in the middle like a set of French doors. The only difference is how they’re in a circle. We walked up a stone path, passing a cross statue and entered through the front door.

  I remember the way my eyes darted as we walked and ventured into the home. Why? Because I thought this was my uncle’s home. Dante quickly put that thought to rest, though. It’s almost as if he could read my mind. His father purchased this when he became leader of the Cartel.

  We’re sitting in a massive living room. The walls are an egg custard color. An earth-toned fireplace is to my left between the two couches and a glass coffee table is a few feet in front of me.

  “I don’t understand why we’re sitting here,” I say to Eduardo.

  He’s sitting beside me a foot or so to the left. Meanwhile, Dante is still suffocating the air around me. He’s hovering, like an annoying bee. “Francisco wanted to meet you. I’m sure he’ll be here any moment.”

  “My ears were burning!” A middle-aged man comes into the living area, clad in an all-black suit. With one glance I instantly know where Dante inherited his good looks from. Francisco is a very handsome man, and that’s putting it lightly. His eyes are dark just like his son’s, but they seem to have some sort of kindness underneath. Or at least, his eyes look kind. I’m not really sure how to explain it. He has a gold watch on his left wrist while a gold cross necklace hangs around his neck. His lips are thin and his cheekbones are high. His hair is mostly black but there are bits of white going through it.

  “Amara was growing a bit anxious, I’m afraid.” Eduardo explains lowly. He must think I can’t hear him, but I definitely do. I shoot him a glare.

  Eduardo is a good friend, but he doesn’t understand what this is like. I’m in the home of the man who was part of my uncle’s demise. Now, I was never a fan of Rafael, and I only met him once when I was a small child. But, does it matter in situations like this? I share the same blood as Rafael and depending on the type of leader Francisco is . . . he might kill me to send a message. It might not even matter that I’m pregnant.

  God. What the hell am I thinking? Eduardo wouldn’t have brought me here if his cousin was going to slaughter me. Or . . . I don’t think he would’ve.

  Francisco kneels down in front of me, which makes the situation that much worse. He’s a taller man, so he’s about eye level with me. “Amara, you have nothing to be anxious about here. I am terribly sorry for the trauma you’ve been through this last year, and so very grateful we were able to get you out before you gave birth. If we hadn’t . . . I would be fearsome of what could’ve happened to you, or your child. Now, there is nothing to fear here. I can imagine you’re a bit on edge because of whose house you’re in, no?”

  I release the breath I’ve been holding and nod. “Yes, more than you could possibly fathom.”

  “Look, I’ll sum this up for you. I have no problem with you or the rest of your familia, because it’s my understanding you were never fond of Rafael. Everything I’ve been told is how your papá had kept his distance from him.”

  “He did. We only met Rafael once when I was a small girl. I believe that was something my abuela had requested before her death.” I say, breathing a bit easier.

  “Understandable. She wanted her children and grandchildren to surround her. God rest her soul. Now, I hope you feel a bit better about being here with us. It’s my understanding you don’t want us notifying your familia? I must admit . . . I don’t understand that. Would you care to explain why you don’t want them to know you’re s
afe?”

  I should’ve expected a question like this, but I’ll repeat what I did to Eduardo. “I don’t want my family to know all that I endured. I don’t want them to know about my miscarriage, or the baby I’m carrying now . . . unless I choose to keep it, because I don’t know if I want to. It’s not that I don’t care for this child, because it’s part of me. I do care. I care so much that I want it to thrive, to grow up in a family with a mother and father who love one another more than anything. I want it to be safe, to not have to wonder if its mother or father will be coming home or not. With my life . . . in the club . . . things are so uncertain. One thing could go wrong and completely throw a wrench into our world. I want the best for this child, and even though I hate to say this, the best probably isn’t me.” I fight back tears as I finish speaking from the heart. I’m no saint. I’m not a good person. I’m just someone who fucks up more than the rest. The type of woman other people don’t generally like, but I do my best to grow as an individual.

  “But if you make your choice, you’d rather they not know?” Francisco questions.

  “Yes. My mother is Irish. She would never condone adoption. Instead, she’d try to raise the baby herself. She would . . . hold the fact I’d want to adopt it to someone outside our family against me. I’d be pressured to be in its life, when I think the best thing for this baby could be not having me in its life.”

  “That’s a strong statement.” Eduardo comments from beside me.

  “It’s probably accurate. You know what this life entails. I act in certain ways which put myself at risk and I don’t want to have to second guess myself if it means protecting someone I care about. But, I don’t want someone else to be hurting because of a decision I made. That, and . . .”

  “And?” Francisco inquires.

  “I need time to process everything. I don’t know how much time I’ll need but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t need it. I’ve had so much time to think, but never did I think I’d get out of that cage. I-I thought I was going to die there. So, I need time. I know they’ll be suffering . . . but I need time to process everything before they know. I just need to have my head on straight, and I hope you’ll support me in my decision to not notify them of anything . . . yet.”

  Francisco nods a few times, hopefully in understanding. “As you wish. Until you make your decision, you’ll be safe here. This isn’t a prison, but a sanctuary. Dante, would you mind taking Amara over to the guest quarters of the estate?” Francisco asks his son.

  “Sure. You ready, Amara?” Dante questions.

  “Yes,” As I answer, Dante extends a hand and I take it. He helps me up off the couch and I begin to walk alongside him until we’re out of the living area.

  Chapter Ten

  It’s okay to be sensitive. That’s what happens when you have magic in your heart

  ~ Unknown

  Dante

  I take Amara in through the foyer and walk her through the west part of the house. We go through the kitchen and pass through a wooden barn door. On the other side is a rather large living area, with a decent sized kitchen and a small seating area. There are about four bedrooms on this side of the house. There’s another suite just like this on the other end of the house, but we save that for extended family. The part where Amara will be staying is where I typically stay when I’m here.

  “Can I speak freely?” I ask her, knowing I’ll probably say something she doesn’t like.

  “Sure.” She comments back, walking forward into the living area. The furniture on this side of the house is much more comfortable. Our formal living areas are really just for show. When I sit on the couch she was on a few minutes ago, it feels like my ass is on a jagged rock.

  “You gave me the impression at first that you were undecided on what you’d do about the baby. But when you spoke to my father, I didn’t have the same feeling. In my opinion, you already made up your mind.”

  Amara lowers herself down onto the blush beige couch, and I watch as her chest rises and falls with each breath. “I think I’m afraid to say it, to make it real. Isn’t that funny? I have no problem admitting it to others, but I have . . . such a hard time accepting it myself.”

  “It isn’t funny. It’s only natural. Or at least, in my eyes it is. You want to do what’s best for that child growing inside you, so much that you’d adopt it out into a family where it wouldn’t have to experience some of the same pain you did, or it might go through being with you. It’s noble.”

  “It isn’t noble. It’s selfish. This . . .” Amara rubs her left hand over her stomach and glances down. “This baby doesn’t deserve a fucked-up mother and given everything that happened I won’t be myself for a while. I’m so worried I’ll fall into some sort of depression or when it’s born, I won’t connect with it. I’d rather have a plan. I’d rather have a good family ready to adopt this little one. I want the absolute best for it, and I’m not the best.”

  Listening to Amara speak rips my heart in two. It’s as if she views herself in such a bad manner. I don’t know much about the woman, but no one deserves to view themselves so lowly. “The doctor said you were due any day, correct?” I ask, but I heard the same thing the rest of us did.

  “Yes,” Amara confirms.

  “Are you sure about the decision you’ve made in finding her a family?” I inquire.

  Amara’s eyes shoot to mine. “How did you know she was a girl?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. I suppose it was a 50-50 shot.” I confess.

  “I’m sure,” Her eyes drift back down to her belly. “I want to give her the best life I can, and I can’t ensure she’d have that with me. I want her to have a normal family.”

  Immediately, I know of two people who have been trying for a child the last three years with no luck. Juan’s daughter, Yolanda, has been married since she was eighteen to her high school sweetheart. They’re about twenty-seven now because Juan got a girl pregnant when he was a teenager. This is his eldest child, not one of my aunt’s children. Yolanda was told not long ago she’d have to look into adoption if she wanted to have children, how it was the most viable option. She works in the marketing business, as does her husband, Manuel. They even live here in Mexico City.

  “I know a couple who’s been trying to have a child but was recently told they wouldn’t be able to ever conceive. It was suggested they try to adopt. If you want, I could reach out to them.” I won’t push her to do anything she doesn’t want, but Amara’s mind does seem pretty set.

  “What are they like?” Amara brings her eyes back up to me.

  “They both work in the marketing field. They have a normal life, one where they work during the week and are off on the weekends. They’re kind, good, religious people. I know them personally, was here when they lost children. You see, they never had any. But she did get pregnant four times. Every time she miscarried. I believe they could be a great fit for this little girl. They’d give her a great life. If I didn’t believe they would, I’d never have spoken up.”

  Amara stares blankly at the floor and nods her head a couple times while her hands are wrapped around her stomach. “Can you make sure they’re open to the idea, and that they want her?”

  “Yes. I can. I’m going to leave you here to get settled, but my room is over there. If you need anything, I’ll be in the suite with you. I’ll be back within an hour.” I inform her.

  “Dante, thank you for your help. I appreciate it so much.”

  “You have no reason to thank me. I see how much you care for her already, and I wanted to help in one of the only ways I can.” I say before I walk over to the entrance of the suite. Amara doesn’t respond back to me, so I make my way through the door, shut it behind me and go to where my father and cousin were a few minutes ago.

  Thankfully, they’re still in the formal living room. “Is she getting settled?” Father asks.

  “Yes, she is. She wants to adopt the baby out.”

  Eduardo closes his eyes, “It’s such a sh
ame. I thought they could lean on each other, that the baby would help her get over this.”

  “I think Yolanda and Manuel would be great parents to her daughter.” I suggest, seeing what they think of it.

  Eduardo seems sober, but nods in agreement. “Juan gave his life. It’s only fitting some sort of new life comes to his family. Yolanda and Manuel have been trying for a child for . . . what, years now?”

  “A little over three years, yes.” I answer.

  “What do you think of the idea?” Eduardo asks my father.

  “I think it’s a splendid idea. We’re really trying to make the best of an agonizing situation. Margarita didn’t take Juan’s death well and neither did the children. I think this child could heal their hearts in a way. Now, Dante, I need you to stay here with Amara for the next few days. Eduardo and I have a trip we need to make to Venezuela to meet an associate.”

  An associate? Usually I hear of scheduled trips, but not this time. “Sure.”

  “Javier and Angel will be here before I get back as well. I believe your sister went back to Las Vegas to deal with some business.” My father tells me.

  Great. My brothers and I are known for being a bit hot-headed. Lord only knows how this will go.

  Chapter Eleven

  Never kick me when I’m down, because when I get back up you’re fucked

  ~ Gentleman Speak

  Dante

  It’s been two days since my father and cousin have been gone. While the estate has been mainly empty besides the hired help, it feels odd having an outsider here. Yet Amara barely makes her presence known. The only way I really know she’s here is because of the long strands hanging from my comb in the bathroom. Or the way the pillows on the couch are karate chopped in the middle when I walk in every morning.