"Choose. Her or the club." Briac demanded thrusting the gun in my hand as I looked back at her. The Riders are my family but she is the love of my life. How can I kill the one who owns my heart but how can I betray my club?
Amara's father was an und...
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Amara
I leaned against my bedroom door, sliding down onto the floor as exhaustion finally hit me, taking me down with a deep sigh. Luckily I had been allowed to headout early from the dinner tonight since it had been dead so at 10pm I could be home to get some sleep before getting up for my morning shift at 8 tomorrow. My hours are really starting to get out of hand; now it seemed I was working doubles, graveyard and now some opening. Basically it was whenever the diner is busy and my boss just makes me go home or come in whenever he needs something baked.
Taking another deep breath I smelt it, the cologne that Ryker wears. My thoughts from work drifted to Ryker, the cologne that was lingering in my room made me feel warm, wishing I had been awake to feel his body against mine when he carried me up here. A soft smile came onto my face to think about what it would feel like to be on Riker's Harley bike, the feeling of my chest flush against his back as my hands wrapped around him. I quickly shake my head, pushing myself off the floor, I couldn't just trust him because he was always so calm and collected. Wasn't Ted Bundy very good at making people like him? Not that Ryker is a serial killer. Or maybe he killed people, fuck I don't know and that's why I have to be careful. Esposito hasn't told me whether I should leave but trust my gut and right now it is at war with itself. Five years of being drilled into my head to never trust and never tell anyone about myself was a second nature to me. But after last night, Ryker seemed to want answers to why I am scared of guns and his club; he doesn't seem like the person to ignore it.
My body wanted him, it wanted to trust him. It scared me more to think of the power and responses he has to my body with a single thought or smell of his cologne than the idea of guns now. I was a runner but now I wanted to stay with his ever calming presence, those eyes that brought me out of the shadows and his voice that brought me out from Drya to who I was or now wanted to be. To be unafraid to live again and let him lead me to what life can be. Fuck how corney that was but still, he reminds me of what I am missing.
Getting up, I curled up on my bed looking over an old family album, turning the pages to look at the pictures on my mom, dad and myself all covered in flour in our kitchen laughing at the camera. Going to the next picture it was a picture of my dad in his uniform and his partner Esposito, the same Esposito who is in charge of my Wit-Pro, and me sitting between them with cupcake all over my face. It was painful to look at the photos but if I didn't look at them then I will forget what my dad and mom looked like and they didn't deserve a daughter who forgot what they looked like. We were the three musketeers, best of friends and now I was forgetting them.
Esposito blames himself for not protecting my father and not being able to stop the execution, which is why he has gone through extremes keeping my mom and I in isolated. I was the one witness but my mom was guilty by association so he moved her out there fast and away from me. He would bring us letters from each other and once a year we would be able to meet up and talk but that is it for now. We both hate it but I won't risk my mom if I am ever found and neither is Esposito willing to take risks.
