Could this day get any worse?
***
Driving up to our home, I notice Jake’s car in the drive. Damn, I wanted to be home before he arrived.
“DADDY!” Emily squeals, running through the door.
“How's my little birthday princess?” Jake gathers her up in his arms and kisses her hair. Every day I'm thankful to Jake for standing up and taking on a responsibility that wasn't his in the first place. He has been there through everything with me. There's nothing I can do to make it up to him for all the sacrifices and the fights he's had just to keep up this lie.
“We went to Three Scoops.” Emily clasps her hands over her mouth as soon as that slipped out. Jake looks over at me.
“You went to Scoops without me?” He pretends that he's hurt and fake sniffles. “I can't believe my two favorite girls went to my favorite place without me.”
“Don't worry, Daddy. We got you your favoritest ice cream in the world.” Emily giggles and pats his head.
“You did?” He gasps, putting on a big animated shocked face.
“Mmmhmm. We can eat it while we watch Descendants.”
“You go get the DVD while I help Mom with the groceries.” He places her down and she runs to her room.
“Hey.” He places his arms around my hips, leaning down to kiss my lips. “Everything okay?” He narrows his eyes on me.
“Of course. I just wanted to be here when you came home is all.” I round him, placing the bags on the counter, and begin putting things away. He grabs my hand to stop me from doing anymore.
“You do know we’ve been married ten years, right?” He chuckles. “We’ve known each other almost our whole lives. That’s twenty-six years of knowing when you’re not okay, Daria. So, tell me. What’s going on?”
“Striker’s back. He’s been released.” Jake straightens up, taking me in his arms.
“He won’t get to you, Daria. You’re safe here.”
I nod against his chest, squeezing him tightly. I think about the last time I saw Striker…
Eight years ago
“We’ve got a client needing us.” Mr. Jefferson comes out of his office with his briefcase and jacket. He hired me after Emily was born. He said I can get my training within the work place at his firm. He dotes on Emily so much he made the bottom floor into a crèche for all the moms in the office so they can work and also bring their kids to work. “You ready for your first client?” He smiles at me. The confidence he has in me is overwhelming. Without him and Jake, I wouldn’t be anywhere.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I sigh, smiling.
Arriving at the police station, my anxiety shoots through the roof the closer we get to the interview room. After a briefing from the arresting officer, we’re about to walk in when Jake Snr’s hand pauses and turns to me.
“If you get stuck at any point, I’ll step in.” He opens the door.
Pain rips through my chest the moment I lay my eyes on the client. His head is cast down, blood dripping down his face; some dried in. His handcuffed hands clench and unclench, his knuckles bleeding all over the table.
“Daria, this guy can get a little hostile. Best to keep your wits about you.”
I know exactly how he can be. I have the mental scars to prove how hostile he can be. I keep that to myself, nor do I tell him that the man sitting in handcuffs is Emily’s real father. Striker.
“Mr. Xanders, we meet again,” Jake Snr. starts, obviously noticing my hesitation.
“They don’t have shit on me!” he snaps.
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Striker.” A shiver runs through my whole body hearing his name. Jake Snr. throws a bunch of pictures on the table. The feeling running through my body confuses me to no end. I want to check him over, help heal the cuts and bruises all over his body. At the same time, I want to run as far away as possible from him.
“Yeah? And what would that be?” Striker finally looks up. His blue orbs clash with my hazel eyes. He narrows his eyes and stares at me for the longest time, until Jake Snr. interrupts.
“They have your face on CCTV.” He looks at the pictures of him and another biker stabbing a man, smiling like they love doing it. I have to look away. “There’s no denying you had something to do with that.” Jake turns to me and touches my arm. “I’m going to have a word with the lead detective, will you be okay?” I nod when all I really want to do is run away.
He scoffs then looks at me. “Well, well. We meet again, Miss Denver. How about one last fuck and suck of my cock before I get sent down?” He smirks. “A whore like you looks like she knows what a guy needs to get off.” He stares down at my cleavage.
“I have no idea who you think I am, but I’m only here to do my job and keep you out of jail, Mr. Xanders.” I sit down in front of him looking over my notes.
“You don’t remember screaming out in pleasure as I pulled your hair and wrapped my hand around your neck as I pounded my cock into your tight little pussy?” he glares at me trying to jog my memory about that night, but he doesn’t have to remind me. I see it every damn time I close my eyes. I see him when I look into my daughters eyes. His daughter’s eyes.
“Again, you’ve got the wrong person, Mr. Xanders.”
He suddenly lunges forward, going for me, causing me to jump up from my seat.
Jake Snr. walks in at that moment and jumps in front of me. “Daria, wait outside for me,” he says, turning me towards the door.
“You can run, whore, but we’ll meet again!” Striker yells.
I run from the station and hail a cab to Jake’s office.
I need Jake.
Chapter Seven
Striker
“Come on, man. I need to get home to see what pussy awaits us back at the clubhouse,” Blaze complains.
I’ve been in prison for the past eight years. Chucky picked me up just a half hour ago and this is the first stop I wanted after I got my bike. Three Scoops.
“Go. I’m not stopping you,” I snap, taking my helmet off. I’m not quite ready to go home and get an earful from Dad about how fucking stupid we were to go after a rival president’s son and carve him up like a pig just yet.
“Nah, the owner of this place is a fine piece of ass. I would love to smear ice cream all over her pussy and lick every inch of it.” He smirks.
Walking through the door, the little irritating bell rings. I hear her call for someone called Charlie to come out. “Guess you’re out of luck,” I say to Blaze.
“I can kill him and she would fall at my feet and beg me to take her,” he mutters confidently.
Blaze is one of my oldest friends aside from Nico. A total pain in my ass. Unlike Nico, who I actually like. He fucks me off and he’s the reason I went to prison, because of the fucking lies he spun me.
“What can I get you?” the guy behind the counter asks me. He looks like he should be in an MMA octagon, not serving fucking ice cream.
Once I have my ice cream order and told Blaze I didn’t care if I was being childish, I feel a pull at my pants leg. I look down at the annoying pull, about to go fucking apeshit. I’m met with the cutest little girl I have ever laid eyes on. Her black hair is pulled into two ponytails at each side of her head. The brightest blue eyes I have ever seen, apart from my own, are staring back up at me.
“Mister. We have the same iceys. It's my birthday today.” She beams up at me, her eyes glittering in awe. I’m about to say something when I hear a woman’s voice. Not just any woman’s voice. Oh, no. The voice I have been hearing in my sleep the past ten years. The woman I tried to find before I was sent to prison. The woman I have wanted to kill over and over again for skipping out on me and making me feel things I don’t want to feel. Daria Denver. When she looks up at me, I can do nothing but stare at her. She apologizes, saying something about her daughter getting excited when she sees someone else with the same taste in ice cream combinations as she has.
I watch as th
ey practically run out of Three Scoops, the girl’s legs trying to keep up with Daria’s quick strides. She drops her ice cream.
“Now there’s a MILF.” My head snaps to look at Blaze. “Mother I’d like to fuck?” He elaborates like I don’t understand.
“I fucking know what it means, asshole!” I bark at him. “Can I have one of the same?” I ask the girl behind the counter. She’s about sixteen and blushing as red as her hair. I walk out into the blistering Phoenix heat with two ice creams melting fast. I jog up to the upset young girl.
“We’ll go back when Dad rests a little, okay, sweetie?” Daria tries hard to console the girl but it does nothing. “Emily, sweetheart. Please.” She sounds like she’s on the verge of tears. An evil smirk appears on my face at the fact that it looks like she’s struggling.
“Hey, here you go.” I extend my hand, holding the new cone out to the little girl I now know as Emily.
“Oh, it’s okay. Really. You don’t have to do that.” Daria holds Emily closer to her, like I’m going to snatch her from her.
“I insist,” I grind out, trying to keep my cool around the kid. I need to let her believe I have no idea who she is.
“Let me pay you back.” She lets Emily go, who starts tucking into the amazing ice cream. She rummages through her bag, pulling out her purse.
“Don’t sweat it. No-one should miss out on the awesomeness that is Three Scoops’ best flavor combination. Right, princess?” I wink at Emily, who nods enthusiastically.
“Well, uh. Thanks anyway,” she stutters.
“Happy birthday, princess,” I call to Emily as they walk away.
I’ve finally found you, Daria. Time to make you pay for stealing from me.
***
“Where the hell have you been?” Dad yells from the other side of the room. Nico and the brothers have thrown us a welcome home party which I can’t be fucked with.
“Little boy blue here needed an icey.” Blaze ruffles my hair.
“Do that again and I’ll cut your fucking hand off. Then what would you do to fuck yourself?” I glare at him.
“Striker, in my office, now.”
I leave Blaze laughing his head off. That asshole thinks he’s this big hard man for going to prison and scarring a man for life. He wouldn’t have survived if it weren’t for me in there with him.
“What’s up, Pop? No ‘welcome home son’? No hug telling me how much you missed me?” I throw myself down on the chair opposite him, placing my feet on the desk. He stares at me, not saying a word. He doesn’t have to. I can literally feel the disappointment and anger radiating from him. He stays silent for what feels like forever. “Well, great talk, Pop. We should do it again sometime.” When I make a stand, he decides to speak.
“Sit down.” His voice is low. “Striker, so help me God. Sit your ass back down, or do I have to make you?” I let out a laugh at the last sentence. “Don’t fucking think I won’t kick your butt.” He stands in front of me, fisting my shirt. It’s the first sign of emotion I’ve seen in him in years.
“Wow, Pop. Thanks for the welcome home.”
“Shut your damn mouth and listen. You’ll be working the shop until I say so. That means no runs. No guns. No knives. Nothing. You stay here where I can see you.”
“Like fuck that’s going to happen.” I shake my head.
“Oh, it’s happening. It will continue to happen until I say so!”
“Fuck you.” I scrape the chair back so hard it tips over.
“Watch your damn mouth!” he yells. “I am your father and the president of this club. What I say goes. Do you understand?”
“Father? You don’t know the meaning of the word,” I sneer. Turning, I walk out and slam the door.
This is all a bunch of bullshit. He thinks he can tell me what to do now after all the shit we’ve been through? He can think again.
No-one tells Striker Xanders what to do.
***
Dad cleared out my room of all my knives, and he’s taken my keys. He’s treating me like a fucking kid. I’m almost thirty years old. I’m a fucking man. I don’t need him telling me that I fucked up on the decision to go with Blaze’s plan. The thing the pisses me off is that I’m the only one getting punished for it. Blaze gets to go about his business as normal, like he didn’t have a hand in what went down that night. It was his fucking fault. The whole thing.
I throw the spanner down in frustration when I see the guys ride back from a run. I should have been on that fucking run, not that pussy.
“Striker, job.” I swear, if this fucker shouts at me one more time, I’ll smash his head in the hood of this fucking car. I’ve been locked up for eight years, but I still have my place in the club. I’m still the baddest motherfucker in this whole place.
“Striker! Job!” he yells again. Grabbing the spanner, I turn to him.
“Motherfucker, yell at me again and I will fuck you up so bad not even dental records will be able to identify your body!” He has the decency to look petrified at the thought and retreats to answer the call. Man, I’ve missed this feeling. I smile, thinking about getting my knives back in my hand where they belong.
“People will think you’re crazy smiling like that.” Nico walks up to me with an ice cold water for me.
“I am crazy.”
“True.” He chuckles.
“You gracing us with your presence tonight?” I ask him.
“I’m having a meal with Jess and her family,” he says. He’s been with Jess on and off for years, I asked him to ask her about Daria a few times, and every time, he’s refused to even mention what the bitch had been up to while I was in prison. It’s not like I could have asked Jess myself from prison. Since getting out, I’ve seen him twice. He’s always with Jessica. I’m not too proud to say I’m jealous. I want my best friend back.
“So pussywhipped.” I chuckle. “Speaking of jailbait.” I sigh, causing him to roll his eyes.
“Her name’s Jessica, Striker. She’s not seventeen anymore.”
“I know. I just like winding you up by calling her jailbait. You can still go to jail for screwing an underage girl.”
“What about Jess?” he asks, narrowing his eyes on me.
“Relax, I just have a question.” I laugh at his reaction. “Does she still hang about with that other jailbait she came here with nine years ago?”
“Who, Daria?” He raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms across his chest. Just hearing her name makes my blood boil to the point of almost exploding. My hand grips the spanner tighter, wishing it was her neck. I nod my head, not trusting how my voice would come across. “Sure. They’re like sisters. Like me and you, they’ve known each other since they were kids.” He shrugs. “She’s married with a kid now. Why’d you ask?”
“No reason. Just wondered if I could get a repeat of that pussy.” He laughs, shaking his head. “How old is the kid?”
He looks up, trying to think. “Just turned nine two weeks ago.” My brow creases as I do the math. I may be a biker, but I’m not stupid. Gripping the spanner tighter, it digs into my hand, my breathing becoming harsher. Everything around me ebbs away into nothing.
I saw that little girl two weeks ago, her birthday. Everything starts slotting into place. The jet black hair, like mine. The bright blue eyes, like mine. The taste in ice cream. The way Daria couldn’t get away from me fast enough. She’s a mini version of me. That fucking whore.
“Striker? Striker, dude?” Nico shakes my shoulders. “Are you okay?” His concern doesn’t faze me. Did he know? Did he help keep my kid from me?
You don’t know if she’s yours.
She’s mine. She has to be. No-one can look so similar to someone who is not related to them, surely.
“Striker!” Matt shouts from the office. “The job.” Throwing the spanner down, I march to the office and Matt quickly retreats behind his desk. I grab the keys and the address of the breakdown.
Nic
o follows me to the truck. “You all right, man?”
“Fine.” I snap and slam the door. I throw the truck into drive and speed off.
***
On the drive to the customer’s location, I can think of nothing but the little girl. Her big blue eyes sparkling with excitement, looking up at me when she saw we had the same flavor combination. She has to be my daughter. My own flesh and blood. Gripping the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles turn white the more I think of how Daria kept my kid away from me and how many years I’ve lost with my child. I get to the location of the job and see Daria standing by an old beat up classic 1968 Mustang. How the fuck did she get her hands on that? Mayor’s daughter, remember?
Stepping out, I grab what I need to look over the car. What I really want to do is wrap my hand round her neck and choke the life out of her. Visions of her life slipping from her eyes makes my dick swell. The look she gives me when she sees it’s me coming to fix her car is one of fear, but she quickly catches herself and places the mask back on.
That’s right, bitch. I know she’s mine and I will get her back, even if I have to kill you in the process.
Chapter Eight
Daria
“No, no, no.” I whisper to myself when a flashing warning sign pops up on my dash. I pull into the side of the road. “God damn it!” I hit my steering wheel.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” Emily looks up from her phone. I’ve just picked her up from her swimming lesson. We were on our way to meet Jake and his dad for a meal then watch the Fourth of July fireworks. It’s Emily’s favorite holiday.
“I need to call Dad to get him to pick us up.” Grabbing my cell from my bag on the passenger seat, I dial Jake's number. He answers on the first ring.
“Daria, is everything okay?” His worried voice comes through the receiver.
“Yeah. My damn car just cut out.”
“I keep telling you, babe. We need to get you a new car.” He chuckles.
It's true. For the past nine years he's been telling me I need a new car, and the amount of money we've spent on it in repairs, I think it's time I part ways with my old faithful friend. And my last gift from Dad.
Three Strikes (Demons Disciples MC Book 1) Page 5