Page 21 of Embracing the Consequences

“But it was pretty rough for the last two weeks,” Derrick answered, surprising Kara. She hadn’t realized that he had noticed the first week. That was the week of the funeral. They’d all been so busy she wasn’t sure anyone had noticed her sneak off to the bathroom to be sick throughout the day.

“And you’re all OK with this?” Marcos asked, looking among her men.

“Yep.” Johnny nodded, a smile on his lips.

“Can’t wait to see this belly all big and round, carrying my child,” Derrick answered, pushing Kevin out of the way and wrapping his arms around Kara from behind.

Marcos shook his head at the display, but a smile was still on his face. “And you’re all OK…sharing?”

“Just something we’ve always done.” Johnny shrugged. “They’re my brothers. It works for us.”

“So will you find out who the father is?” Marcos asked.

Kara swallowed thickly and looked to her guys. Derrick’s arms squeezed tighter around her.

“It doesn’t matter to us,” Kevin answered easily. “We’re all gonna raise that child in this house and be fathers. Doesn’t matter whose kid it is. The baby is ours.”

Tears welled in Kara’s eyes. They had talked about it—she had questioned them to exhaustion in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep. Her guys had already made it clear to her that they didn’t care, but it was still nice to hear it again.

Marcos turned to Kara with an unreadable expression on his face. “And you’re happy?”

A broad, beaming smile lit her face, tears still lining her eyes. She nodded easily. “Very happy, brother.”

“Good.” He nodded once and laughed. “I hope the pregnancy hormones don’t turn you into a fucking sap.”

She let the tears fall graciously as she laughed. “Never, brother. I can still kick your ass.”

Marcos smiled fondly, then in Spanish he said, “Mamá estaría orgullosa de ti” (Mom would be proud of you).

A small sob broke out of Kara, and Marcos hugged her to his chest.

“Shhh, lilManita,” Marcos murmured and stroked her back. “Así como yo estoy orgulloso de ti, hermana. Eres lo mejor de nosotros y te mereces el mundo” (just as I’m proud of you, sister. You’re the best of us and deserve the world).

“I love you, brother,” Kara spoke softly in English but loudly enough so her men could hear her so they would know she was alright.

Marcos pressed a kiss to her forehead and whispered another compliment in Spanish before he pulled away slowly. “I know you aren’t burning my spaghetti sauce.”

Kara laughed again and wiped at her eyes. “Sauce has been done for a while. I shut it off. We just need the noodles to boil.”

“Already done, babe,” Kevin spoke softly.

She looked up with red-rimmed eyes and met the eyes of her men. They each gave her a soft smile. “Did you start the garlic bread?” she asked.

“Just about finished.” Derrick smirked. As if he’d summoned it, the timer on the oven dinged, indicating the bread was done.

Kara turned to the stovetop to see that the noodles were shut off and just waiting to be drained. “Well shit.” She grinned. “Let’s eat.”

“Fuck yeah,” Marcos agreed and headed for the table. “I’ll just get out of your way.”

The rest of the evening was comfortable and…fun. Kara was pleasantly surprised. Even when the talk had turned to club life, the boys had maintained a friendly banter. Marcos was candid about what was going on within his club and the bullshit his president was putting them all through while starting the war with the Ravager Knights that no one voted for.

“You need to figure out who’s loyal to you,” Johnny said, his voice gravelly at the end of the night.

They had moved out back to the firepit out past the pool. Kara was curled into an Adirondack chair, nursing a hot chocolate while she stared sleepily into the flames. The cool autumn night air pressed in around her, kept at bay a little longer by the roaring fire in front her. Someone had dropped a blanket around her shoulders, and she pulled it tighter as she curled into a ball.

Johnny and Marcos were to her right, but they spoke softly, letting the darkness settle around them and shape the seriousness of their conversation.

“I have a good idea. Several guys have approached me, bitchin’ about Buckley,” Marcos grumbled deeply. He took a sip of his beer and shook his head. “I don’t have enough to overthrow him.”

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