“Am I in trouble?” she asks.
“No, baby. Why would you be in trouble?”
“You're using that voice.”
“Baby, you're not in trouble. I just have something important to tell you.” I swallow hard.
“Mom, you can tell me anything.” My heart swells with pride at this nine-year-old telling me, a grown woman, that I can tell her anything.
“You know how Grandpa Jake and Grandma split up?” She nods her head slowly. “Grandma has a new husband?” Again, she nods. I swallow past this great big lump that’s forming in my throat. “Well, I want you to know that your dad and I love you so much. This will not change that.” A tear drips from my eye.
“Mom?” She places her hand over mine when I’m silent for a few minutes, looking into her waiting blue orbs
“We’re getting a divorce.”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “So, you mean I’ll have two birthdays and Christmases?”
“We’ll try to spend them all together.” I prepare myself for her anger.
“Huh. Okay.”
My shoulders slump in relief. I decide to leave out that what Striker said that day I picked up my car was true, that he was telling truth, and he is her real father. The fact that Jake and I are getting a divorced is enough information for one night.
“You okay, sweetie?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m sad that we won’t all be together, but if you and Dad are happy then I’ll be happy.” She shrugs. “Amy’s parents don’t live together and they’re still friends.” I nod, thanking God that she sort of understands why Jake isn’t here now.
“Come on. Why don't we go have some hot cocoa and watch a movie.” She nods enthusiastically.
After a hug, we walk down to the living room to de-stress and spend some time together.
I’ll tell her about Striker soon.
***
I wait for Jake so we can discuss the divorce and have a catch up. We haven’t seen each other in a couple of weeks since I asked for the divorce, except briefly at Emily’s basketball game. We decided to go out to dinner so we could talk somewhere away from Emily. I can’t stop thinking about the texts from Striker. I haven’t replied yet, but the truth is, I don’t know how to respond to him.
“You okay?” Jake asks, walking towards me.
“Yeah, I'm fine.” I force a smile, standing to kiss his cheek.
“Really? Dee, don't bullshit me. We’re not together anymore, but I know when you're lying and I know when you're upset. You’re still my best friend.”
“Striker wants to discuss access.”
“Oh.” He gulps his water like it's going to disappear. “I wish that was something stronger for this conversation.”
Looking down, I play with the napkin on my lap. “It breaks my heart that it's come to this, Jake. I just don't want you to stay in a marriage that's going nowhere. I want you to find someone who will love you as much as you love me.” Teardrops fall down my cheeks. “If you want the house, Emily and I will find somewhere else. We can stay with Jess until then.”
“I don't want the house or anything, Dee. That house was for you and Emily. I'm not some sort of monster that would throw you both onto the streets because you chose some psycho.”
“I didn't choose anyone, Jake. I’m going to keep telling you this until it gets through to your stubborn ass. I'm doing it for you. You deserve better than this false life we're leading and have done for ten, almost eleven years. Striker coming back just made me realize that we need to do this for you, for us, but most of all, for Emily.”
“Like I said, I don’t want anything. Keep it all.” I know he doesn't believe me when I say I haven't chosen Striker. It's the truth. I need to look out for what’s best for Emily. She's my main focus. “All I ask is that you don't stop me seeing Emily. I may not be her real father, but...” He pauses and takes a shaky breath. “She's the only good thing in my life right now.”
“Oh, God, Jake. I would never stop you seeing your daughter. She's yours. She may not be biologically, but my God, you are her father.” Tears fall faster down my face. Maybe we should have done this at the house.
“You won't, but he might.”
“He has no say in it, J. It's my decision and Emily's decision.”
“Well, we’ll see how long it takes for him to brainwash you and Emily against me.”
“Brainwash me? Jake, the only contact I will be having with him is about seeing Emily and that’s it.”
Keep telling yourself that.
Just as the words leave my mouth, my cell beeps, alerting me to a message.
*I want to see my daughter!* I close my eyes, taking in a cleansing breath.
“Was that him?”
“Yeah.” I sigh as I drink my water.
“You should reply to him, Dee. Do the right thing by Emily. She’s the only one that matters in this fucked up situation.”
He’s right. I know he is.
“I know. I’ll reply later. Right now, I want to catch up with my best friend.” I offer him a small smile which he returns.
Here we go.
***
After I left the restaurant, I switched my cell back on and there were five messages from Striker, demanding I reply or I’ll regret it. If he thinks that shit will be happening all the time, he has another thing coming.
*Meet me at my house in ten. We can discuss.*
*You come here.*
*No. My house or nothing*
*Fine*
Time to show him I’m not the same pushover I was back then.
Arriving back home, Striker is already there, waiting. I wanted to be at my house because there are no whores parading around, and I’ll feel more comfortable.
We barely make it to the front door when he starts demanding.
“Nice house. Now, when can I see my daughter?”
I laugh and shake my head at his lack of manners.
“What the fuck is so funny?”
“Nothing. Not a damn thing.” Unlocking the door, I walk through the hallway, throwing my keys into the bowl on the sideboard and dropping my bag.
“Well?”
“Let’s sit and discuss this like adults, shall we?” I smile politely, motioning towards the kitchen table. “Would you like a coffee?”
“No. I want to see my damn daughter.”
Sitting down with my cup of coffee, I bring it up to my lips, looking at him over the steam. He’s still glaring at me with his ocean blues. His black shirt strains against his bulging crossed arms. He’s a very handsome man, it’s just a pity he’s an asshole.
“We can stay here as long as you want, Striker.” I sigh, looking into his eyes which have darkened. I see his jaw pulsing. Unfolding his arms, he rubs his hand over the stubbled, strong jaw. “So, like I said, we both sit down like adults and discuss, or you can leave, and you’ll not be any closer to seeing Emily.” Tilting my head, I give him a sweet smile. “The choice is yours.”
His nose flares, and his lips curl in disgust. Pulling out a chair, he flops down. “Fine. Discuss.”
“Would you like a drink?” I ask him again.
“Beer.” His tone is less than nice.
Standing, I walk to the sink, put my cup in and grab a beer for him and myself.
“I will chaperone the first couple of times.” He slams the beer bottle down, making me jump.
“I wouldn’t hurt her,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t say you would. But, be that as it may, I will do anything to make her as comfortable as possible through this process.”
“I’m her dad.”
“Yes, and she knows nothing about you, and you don’t know her.”
“You want to control this.”
“You don’t know what I want, Striker. I don’t want to control anything, let alone my own daughter.” I know how that feels and I swore never to let Emily feel like I did. “Sh
e has the right to get to know you and I will never stand in the way.”
He narrows his eyes on me, holding the neck of the beer bottle, probably wishing it was my neck. I’m not backing down.
“Striker, you can look at me like you want to kill me again, but that’s what’s happening. We have to let her take the lead on this. I’m going to tell you what days you can spend time with her.”
“You’re going to tell me?” Raising an eyebrow, an evil smirk appears on his lips. “No-one tells me what to do, little girl.”
“Well, it’s high time you get used to it. Until Emily gets to know you and I can begin to trust you, then I get the final say on things that involve her.” He stands up, towering over me. “You don’t intimidate me, Striker.” I stand up, my chest against his. My heart beats faster and my breathing becomes labored.
He’s so tall. I only come up to his chest, in heels. His eyes are now a darker shade of blue.
“She’s my damn daughter,” he repeats.
“You tried to fucking kill me, Striker. Do you really think I would let my daughter stay over with someone who is capable of something like that?” I keep eye contact with him. He’s trying his best to scare me, but nothing scares me more than something happening to my daughter.
“Pity I didn’t finish the fucking job.”
“You see, that right there is why you will have me with Emily until I trust you and feel comfortable leaving her in your care alone.”
“I would never let any harm come to her, Daria.” He sighs, looking up at the ceiling.
My eyes zone in on his neck, the image of me kissing and sucking it enters my brain. What the hell?
“Those are my conditions, Striker.” He looks down into my eyes, then quickly glances further down to my lips and back up. His scent of leather and bike oil hits me, causing my heart rate to spike further. What is happening? I have to walk away from him, I need a breather. Stepping away, I pull out a bottle of wine and pour it. He sits back down, finishing his beer.
“Emily will remain in contact with Jake. He’s her father.”
“Is he fuck seeing her. She's my daughter. I'm here now, she doesn't need him.” He stands up so fast the chair falls back. He's reacted in the exact same way I thought he would. “He may have brought her up, but she will not be calling the fucker Dad any longer.” He raises his voice at me for the fourth time tonight.
“Striker, if you continue shouting, you can leave right now.”
“He's having nothing to do with her and that's final.”
“You don't get a say in this. Jake is her father. He's been there when she's needed him, taken her to pre-school. He's been there when you should have been!” I yell back at him.
His eyes blaze with fury, and he walks quickly towards me. “And whose fucking fault is that?” He sneers, looking me up and down.
“Don't start blaming me. This is as much your fault as it is mine.” I poke his chest. “You were silent all through the pregnancy, birth, and all her life! I struggled every fucking day, Striker!”
“I didn't fucking know!” he roars in my face. “And for the hundredth time, I wouldn't let anything happen to her. I would die before anything happens to her,” he says through gritted teeth.
I believe him, I really do.
“I know, but if you're going to have her overnight, when she and I are comfortable doing so, she needs to be in a stable home with no half naked women, no live sex shows, no drugs, no alcohol, no men objectifying women, and no knives.” He stares down at me. “I meant what I said, Striker. No overnight stays until I can fully trust you and Emily is one hundred percent comfortable with it.”
“They won't do anything to her.”
“Don't care. They’re my rules, take it or leave it.” I sit at my kitchen table with my wine and wait for his answer.
He refused to accept that Jake was to remain in her life and stormed out. I’ve had a few texts from him telling me he wants to see her, but I ask if he’s changed his mind on Jake, and the answer is always the same. No.
Stubborn asshole.
***
After weeks of back and forth with Striker, he still said he hasn’t changed his mind about the whole Jake staying in contact with Emily, and he’s still demanding to see her and threatening me. I contemplated changing my number altogether but I’m scared about what he would do if I did. He’s unpredictable and I still don’t truly know him.
I’m sitting at my desk, doing paperwork, when the phone rings.
“Good afternoon, Jefferson and Son. Daria speaking. How can I help?”
“Mrs. Jefferson?” A female voice comes through the receiver. “This is Mrs. Richards from Emily’s school.” A million and one scenarios run through my head. “I’m concerned that Emily didn’t come back from lunch.”
“What do you mean didn’t come back? She had school lunch today.” Panic rises within me that soon turns to anger. “How the fuck could you lose a nine-year-old child?” The whole office is now looking at me. I shouted so loud that Jake Snr. comes out to see what’s going on.
“Mrs. Jefferson, I understand your frustration, but please calm down.”
“Calm down? Calm down when you have just informed me you’ve lost my daughter?” I throw things into my bag while trying to message Jake; he’s away in New York again. I tell him to come home now.
“Mrs. Jefferson, please let me speak. A man came to pick her up. Said you asked him to pick her up as she had an appointment.”
“Really? Why would I send someone else to take my daughter to an appointment?” I shout down the phone. “I’m on my way.” I slam the phone down.
Looking up, I see Jake Snr. has his coat on. “You don’t have to come with me,” I sob.
“You’re in no fit state to drive, Daria. Besides, I want to know why they didn’t check their database for approved people who can pick Emily up.” He knows Jake isn’t Emily’s real dad. He says he’s knew all along, purely because she looks nothing like him and very little like me. But he says she’s his grandchild, no matter what.
***
After meeting with the school and Jake Snr. threatening to sue, the police are out searching while I go back to work to pick up my car.
“You sure you’ll be okay?” Jake Snr. asks me as he parks up.
“No. I need to find her.”
A name comes rushing into my head.
Striker!
Chapter Thirteen
Daria
Adrenaline courses through me. I walk in with one goal on mind. Get my daughter back, even if it kills me, which it probably will. I walk past whatever sorry idiot they’ve roped in to become a criminal like the rest of them. He's shouting something at me; I don't hear what it is. All I hear is my heartbeat thumping in my ears.
Throwing the door to the clubhouse open, I'm met with a dozen or so eyes staring at me in a mixture of anger, amusement, shock, and annoyance. The last one coming from some whore who looks me up and down like I’m trash that she put out on the street.
My eyes scan the room to find the one I'm looking for slumped over the bar, holding his glass up, obviously wanting a refill.
“You!” I march towards him, only to be stopped by Nico.
“Daria, what are you doing here?”
I try to round him but he blocks me again.
“Where is she? Where the fuck is my daughter? I'm not leaving until I have my daughter!” I scream at him.
Striker turns his head slightly, draining his glass before answering me.
“You got the wrong guy, sweetness.” Slamming the glass down, he pushes it towards the bartender. I manage to get round Nico and stand in front of Striker.
“Bullshit! Where the fuck is she?”
I pull at his shoulder to make him look me in the eye. I'm met with eyes that look like they're ready to kill me. Eyes that are as blue as the sky, now turning a darker shade. A pool of desire gathers in the pit of my stomach. What the
fuck is wrong with me? My daughter has been kidnapped by this lunatic and I'm getting turned on by him? I've just taken crazy to a whole new level.
“Don't fucking touch me.”
“Where the fuck is my daughter?” I say through gritted teeth.
“I don't know where OUR daughter is.”
“Come on, Striker. I know you took her!” I poke him in the chest. “You were the one who said that she will get to see you again. Plus, you were the one who tried to kill me when I said I would take her away and you would never find us again!” Standing up quickly to his full six foot seven height, he stares down at me with fire in his eyes.
“I should have fucking killed you when I had the chance! Maybe then you wouldn't have lost my daughter!”
I can't stop what happens next. It's like my hand takes on a life of its own. I slap him hard across the cheek. So hard that he stumbles a little and I feel like my hand will have a bruise.
“Don't you fucking dare! Don't you dare accuse me of losing my daughter. I gave birth to her, and I've been bringing her up and keeping her safe from the likes of you for nine Goddamn years. Where were you? Huh?” I look him up and down. From his boots, ripped jeans snug against his muscular thighs, up past his black tight t-shirt to his pissed off face. “You were too busy fucking everything that had a pulse and probably an STD. Anyone who would open their rancid legs wide for you to slide on in. I was changing diapers, doing nightly feeds. Caring for my daughter when she was rushed to hospital with such a high fever that she almost died.” Hot tears fall down my cheeks as I'm thrown back to the night I almost lost my baby girl. “Just, please, Striker. Tell me where she is. If you want visitation, we can arrange it. Just give me my baby back.” The tears fall faster, faster than I can catch them.
“I told you. I don't have her.” His voice comes out gruff. As I look up at him, I see his expression has softened a little. Maybe it was the mention of his daughter almost dying. Or maybe the fact that he wants you out of his club.
I'm about to say something when the ringing of my cell catches my attention. It's the ringtone for Jake.
“Jake.”
Three Strikes (Demons Disciples MC Book 1) Page 9