"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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Ryker
I reached over the centre console taking Amara's hand and kissing the back of it hearing her let out a soft sigh. We have been in the car for hours driving to the courthouse in Portland where Amara will be having to stand as witness for her father's case again.
Glancing out of the car window as I kept driving I spotted the bikes in front and behind us. The brothers followed us here to support Amara along with looking out for those two prospects who could still be under orders to come for her. I placed her hand on my thigh as I ran my thumb up her hand enjoying the warmth of it while offering support.
"I always thought that being back here would feel like coming home..." She said softly making me glance to her, Bella curled against her chest.
Picking up her hand and gently kissing it, I focused on the road stopping at the light giving me the opportunity to look back at her. "And now?"
She looked over to me, "now I just feel like a stranger ready to go back to California." Kissing her hand again and smiling from the triumph that my home was now hers I looked back to the road as the light turned green. "Ha, you would make that a way to fuel your ego."
I shrugged at her, "My home being my woman's home. Sorry love, I'll take that anyway I can which is to puff my chest out. Besides don't pretend you don't love it, I am the one who makes you scream at night Amar."
Amara tried to hide a chuckle from the car and I hoped to keep it going. She didn't sleep well during the car ride and has held onto Bella non-stop trying to emotionally prepare herself over this. Last time she was in court she did it via video but now she was here in person. I can feel the stress and anxiety from my side of the car.
"We passing any places you have hung around? Well when your head wasn't in a cook book?" I teased trying to keep the conversation going.
A chuckle escaped her as we drove by some athletic fields, "I used to play soccer in that field... I hated it. The only reason why I played for a few years in high school was because my Dad would buy me a huge five scoop ice cream sundae after practices and games. Plus, my friends were on the team so it made it tolerable."
I smiled trying to imagine her in soccer gear running around on the field, her fire coming out in different times. I bet she was the one player who apologized for her aggressiveness. "What position you play?"
"Mid fielder, god there was so much running around. I haven't gone on a run since I stopped playing." She said.
Glancing over to her I had to ask, "did you apologize to other players if you ran into them?"
She turned away from the window to look at me, her mouth opening and closing before muttering her reply, "shut up... I only played for the ice cream and to hang with friends."
