Striker stalks forward, about to go for him again.
“No!” I get in between them. “No, this is not happening! Our daughter is out there, and us fighting amongst ourselves isn’t helping anyone!” I place my hand on Striker’s chest. He looks down at it, and I feel his racing heart beat against my hand. It’s beating the same rhythm as mine. Looking into his eyes, my heart beats harder against my ribs, the beat louder in my ears. Everyone around us disappears; it’s just us. My breathing comes out in short bursts.
Closing my eyes, I shake my head; I need to get my head out of the Striker-shaped cloud.
“Us fighting like this won’t bring back Emily. We need to work together.”
“I’ll find her, and when I do.” Striker stares down Jake, curling his lip. “You’ll never see her again.”
“We’ll see, asshole.” Jake sneers, looking him up and down. “You’re nothing but a deadbeat dad.”
Striker flies on top of him and starts punching him.
“Striker. Stop. Please stop.” I pull him off Jake again. This time it was easier than the first time.
“Jake, outside.” I pull his arm when he’s upright. Staring a hole through Striker, he goes to start on him again. “Now!” I shout at him, pushing him towards the door.
Once outside, I hand Jake a tissue, which he ignores and starts pacing, running his hand through his hair.
“Jake.” I try to gain his attention, but he ignores me. My heart cracks watching him. “Jake, stop.” Standing in front of him, I look into the chocolate brown eyes I used to dream about. “Jake, we need to find Emily. We need Striker and everyone in there to help.”
“We don’t need him. He’s the reason she’s missing,” he scoffs.
“He cares for Emily just as much as we do. He’s her biological dad, Jake!” I shout. “He has contacts and technology that will probably find her quicker than the police.”
“Why are you so quick to dismiss the work the police do? Also, why are you all of a sudden defending Striker?” He narrows his eyes at me, tilting his head when I feel a blush creeping up on my cheeks. He quickly draws up his own conclusion. “Oh. Oh, wow. You’ve sunk to a new low, Daria.” He rubs his face. “You fucking slept with him. You slept with him when you should be looking for our little girl!” He shouts at me. “Do you even care that it’s him that caused all of this?”
“Don’t you dare!” I snap, pointing at him. “Don’t you dare start taking shots at me, Jake. Who looked after Emily while you were away ten months out of the year? Who had to sit and break the news that Daddy wouldn’t be home for her birthday for three years in a row? Watch her cry her eyes out because she missed you so much? Having to ask your dad to take her to the father/daughter dance at kindergarten because you were too busy at work?” I shout at him with angry tears falling. “So, don’t you dare come at me because I slept with Striker. At least he made me feel something.” I turn my back on him. I can’t look at him anymore.
“Dee,” I feel his hand on my shoulder. “Dee, I’m sorry. I should have been there more, but I was trying to make a better life for you both. To save money to get the hell out of this town like you always wanted to.”
“No, Jake.” I turn to look at him with blurred vision. “All I wanted, what Emily and I really wanted, was for you to stay with us for more than a week.” I swallow past the large lump in my throat. “Now, I don’t have either of you.”
He gathers me in his arms and sways me back and forth.
I don’t know how long we stayed like this, but the next thing I see and hear is a rush of men running out of the clubhouse. Pushing Jake off me, I run towards Striker climbing on his bike.
“What’s going on?” He stares at me. I think for a moment that he’s not going to tell me. “Striker?”
“We’ve got a lead.” He revs his bike.
I place my hand upon his. He looks down at it then back up to look me in the eye. “Bring our baby home.” A tear drips down my face. With a slight nod of his head, he leads five other men out of the compound.
“When Emily comes back, you have to tell her, Daria.” Jakes voice hits my ears. “As much as I hate these words that are about to leave my mouth, Emily needs to know that Striker is her real dad and was telling the truth all along. She deserves that much from us all.”
“J, you’re her real dad. You’ve been there.” I sigh. I know I said he was hardly there, but he’s been there more than Striker has been. “Striker is just a guy that gave her ice cream.”
“Dee, you want to know who your real mom is, right? Give Emily the same. Her dad is right in front of her. Tell her that what Striker said to her that day was true. Tell her before she gets any older and she hates us both for keeping the secret going.” His voice breaks and he walks back inside.
He’s right, I know he is. She deserves to know who her real parents are, but at the same time, I don’t want her to lose the relationship she has with Jake. I can guarantee Striker will still try to put a stop to it.
Come on, Emily. Come home to me.
Chapter Sixteen
Striker
The stare-off was the most intense thing I have ever felt. I wanted to kill her, but yet again, I wanted her naked and under me. This girl is fucking with my head.
I watch as she runs out to be with that preppy asshole.
“You all right, man?” Nico asks.
“What sort of stupid-ass question is that? Am I all right? No, I’m fucking not all right,” I snap, grabbing the bottle of Jack from behind the bar and walk out to the parking lot. I see Daria and Jake having a conversation. She looks around and stares at me. I can’t tear my eyes from her. What the fuck is wrong with me?
My cell buzzes in my pocket, and pulling my eyes from staring at Daria and that pompous fucker, I answer it with a snap.
“Hello.”
“Hello, Striker. It’s been a long time.” The voice on the other end laughs.
“Not long enough. What the fuck do you want?” It's been eight years since I heard this asshole’s voice begging me not to kill him.
“Oh, Striker. It's not a case of what I want, it's a case of what I have that belongs to you.” He laughs and hangs up.
Motherfucker. My cell vibrates again. This time to a text. I wish I didn't open it.
My cell rings again. “Motherfucker, if you have even smiled in her direction, I swear no one will recognize you when I’m done with you!”
“Striker?” Dad’s voice speaks. Shit. “What’s going on?”
“Dad, I have it covered.”
“Put Mars on.” Walking back in, I find Mars and hand him my cell. He looks at me and nods.
“Understood, boss.” He hangs up. “You’re to stay in the clubhouse.”
“Like hell I am. My daughter is out there with that Latino son of a bitch. I’m going to get her.” Turning, I storm out, followed by some of the brothers. I recognized a sign on the picture he sent me.
Bastard thinks he can take what’s mine and get away with it? He’s sorely mistaken.
Climbing on my bike, Daria runs towards me, asking what’s going on. I debate whether or not to tell her, but something in me tells me to tell her and it blurts out. I tell her we have a lead, that’s all. Her eyes light up a little. She shocks me by placing her hand on mine. An unwanted feeling I have tried to forget flows through me. Looking from her hand on mine to her face she speaks. Bring our baby home. Her saying that to me just adds more fuel to the fire within me.
Hang on, Emily. Daddy’s coming.
***
Creeping up towards the warehouse, we spot three guys outside, laughing and speaking Spanish.
“Fucking sick bastards,” Nico mutters. He speaks fluent Spanish. Looking over at me, he shakes his head, indicating that I don’t want to know what these assholes said. I can use my imagination and it gets my blood pumping quicker. Sneaking up behind them, I slit one of their throats, the blood squirting on my face. The m
etallic smell is like a drug to me, fueling me further to get Emily out quickly and safely. Nico snaps the other one’s neck like a twig, and Cobra uses his silencer and shoots the other guy in the head.
Running farther in, it’s quiet. Too quiet. A gunshot rings out farther down the damp and dark hallway. I don’t think, I just run towards the sounds of shouting. What I see makes me sick. A grown man stands above a girl younger than Emily. He’s speaking Spanish, but I can get the gist of what he’s saying by his demeanor, and the look on his face… I’ve seen it many times before. The little girl sobs and begs him not to do anything, that she wants to go home to her mom. He laughs at her, raises his hand, and slaps her hard, causing her head to snap back and her to fall with a thud on the floor. Cobra lets out a loud roar and runs towards him.
“Shit!” I shout and run after him. Blood splatters everywhere. My face, the floor the walls. I look to Nico.
“Go find her, we got this,” he breathes as he stabs some guy in the jugular.
Running through to another room, something hits me from behind.
“Not such a big man now.”
“Bigger than I was eight years ago.” Standing up, I shake off the pain and look him in the eye.
“It’s a pity you found me so quickly. I was so looking forward to seeing Emily-” I don’t let him finish that sentence. Charging at him, I drive my shoulder into his stomach, tackling him to the ground. The sick bastard laughs when my blade slices through his flesh over and over again until he finally goes quiet. Breathing hard, I stare down at his vacant face. Looking up and around, I now see the room clearly. It looks like a jail. Solid iron gates to stop whoever from escaping, and a damp and dirty floor. A few of them have young girls and a couple of boys in them. They all look at me to save them. My main focus is Emily, then I will save them. Standing, I walk over to the one nearest to me.
“Emily?” I breathe a sigh of relief, seeing her. I pull at the door, but it’s locked. I pull at it again.
“Striker, move!” Cobra shouts and shoots the lock, releasing it. “Fucking sick bastards.”
“Emily, sweetheart?” I kneel down on the wet ground, moving her hair out of her face. She looks like she’s sleeping. I pray that she hasn’t seen anything in the short time she’s been here. “Nico, call the cops. Tell them to get up here now. I’m sure there are worried parents out there looking for their kids.” I lift Emily.
***
Driving back to the clubhouse, Emily starts to stir. “W…where am I?”
“Hey, you fell asleep. Your mom is waiting for you inside.” I smile down at her. Blaze came with the truck and is driving my bike back. Jumping out, I help her out of the truck. She looks at my blood-stained shirt, her brows knitting together. Should have changed.
“Did you hurt yourself? Mom can make you feel better with her amazing hot chocolate and Three Scoops ice cream.” Her eyes glitter with excitement, smiling up at me. This little girl; so innocent, so pure. She has no idea what she could have been subjected to, or even witnessed with those monsters. She’s my daughter. I will do everything in my power to keep her safe for the rest of her life. She staggers a little, grabbing my arm to steady herself. “Striker, I don’t feel so good.” She sways again and bends over, throwing up all over my boots. Looking up at me, her blue eyes shine with unshed tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve had worse,” I joke, but it’s true. “Do you think you can walk?” My concern grows as I see the color drain further from her.
“I-I don’t think so.” I lift her into my arms, her arms around my neck. I walk in and Daria is pacing the floor. As if sensing us walking in, she looks up from the floor and sprints towards us.
“Emily!” She takes her from my arms, hugging her tightly and touching her all over. “Baby, we were so worried. Are you hurt?”
“No, Mom. I’m okay. I just feel really sick and tired.” She looks over at me then behind me. “Daddy,” she shouts happily. For a moment, I thought she was calling me Daddy, but the asshole, Jake, rushes by me, taking Emily in his arms.
“Princess. Come on, let’s get you home.” He sighs. Looking at me, he nods. “We’ll be in the car.”
Watching him walk away with Emily in his arms gives my so many mixed emotions, the biggest one being sadness.
Chapter Seventeen
Daria
It’s been a month since Emily went missing; I haven’t let her out of my sight since then. I drop her off at school and pick her up. She says she doesn’t remember who picked her up that day or anything that happened afterwards, she only remembers Striker when she woke up.
Speaking of Striker, I’m finally going to tell Emily who her real dad is.
Jake and Jess were right; Emily has the right to know where she comes from and get the chance to know Striker. Even if Striker is an egotistical, psychotic son of a bitch. A sexy one at that.
“Emily, sweetheart.” I pop my head round her bedroom door.
“I’m making this picture for dad for his desk.” She shows me a drawing of me, her, Jake, and someone else.
“Who’s that?”
“Striker.” The smile she has on her face when she mentions Striker puts a little faith in me that this won’t be as hard as I first thought.
“I’m sure, dad will love it. Sweetheart, I need to tell you something.” I sit on her window seat beside her desk.
“What is it, mom? Are you sick?”
“No, baby. Why would you think that?”
“You’ve been crying a lot lately,” She looks down at her hands. “Dad said you weren’t feeling too good.”
“Baby, I’m not sick. I just have something really serious to tell you.” I swallow hard.
“Mom, you can tell me anything.” She repeats what she said when I told her about Jake and I getting a divorce.
“Before you were born, I had a boyfriend before Daddy. We fell out of love,” Calling Striker my boyfriend feels weird and I know it’s wrong to tell her a lie, but I can’t tell my nine-year-old that it was a one night thing. “I married Daddy. I already had you in my tummy. Daddy loves you so much baby.” 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
“Dad isn't your real dad. Striker is.”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “So you mean I have two dads, like India in my class?”
“Umm, not quite the same. But, yes, you have two dad.”
“Huh. That's awesome.”
My shoulders slump in relief.
“Mom?” Her blue eyes look up at me when I place our drinks and popcorn on the coffee table. “Can I spend time with Striker?”
“Of course, sweetheart. He’s your dad. You can spend time with him all you like.” She nods, happy with my answer, then stares ahead, as if thinking. “What about Dad? Can I still see him?”
“Emily, sweetheart. Jake is still your dad. Striker being your biological dad doesn’t and will not change that.” I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
“Can you come with me the first couple of times I spend time with Striker?”
“Of course. Whatever will make you comfortable, honey.”
We settle down to watch our movie, but all I can think about is the conversation I’m going to have to have with Striker about this.
***
“Mo cridhe.” I lean down to hug my grandpa. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.” I frown at him.
“Daria, I’m old, not stupid.” He chuckles. “Now, tell, Grandpa what’s going on.” I’ve not told him about Emily getting kidnapped and it will stay that way.
“I told Emily who her real father is last night.” I look up at him and see his eyes widen a little. “Striker wants access. Jake’s being weird with me and I’m confused about what to do, Grandpa.”
“Daria, Jake is hurt. You asked him for a divorce and he’s probably feeling
like he’s lost his little girl because this Striker character has waltzed back in.”
“I told him he would still have access. I don’t care what Striker says. Jake is her dad too.”
“But he won’t feel that. Let him lick his wounds and he’ll be back.” He pats my hand. “As for this Striker, go speak to him. Tell him your terms and what days he can see Emily. But, Daria, you have to take Emily’s lead on all of this. She’s the one stuck in the middle of this whole situation.”
I sigh, looking down. I know he’s right.
“You’re right. Emily is the main focus and we have to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.”
“What about this boy, Brad? How does he fit into all of this?”
“We’ve been on two dates.” I roll my eyes at him. Brad was the lead detective on Emily’s case. He reached out a week after the case was closed and asked me out
“Do you like him?”
“Grandpa, I’m not talking to you about boys.” I giggle.
“Mo cridhe, I just want you happy. That’s all I ever want for you. I just wish your father was here to see how beautiful you are and how much of an amazing mother you are.” He turns serious when he speaks about dad. The hurt is still evident on his face even ten years later. “He’d be so proud.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure you tell him every time he visits.”
“I do, yes. I also want to bang your stubborn heads together and sort all of this out before it’s too late.”
“Not happening, Grandpa.” I shake my head. “Now, let’s play Go Fish.” I swerve away from going any deeper into conversation about dad.
Grandpa has been my rock has been since I was small. I smile at the memories of us dancing around his living room and his tears when I placed Emily in his arms. He was over the moon when I told him Emily’s name.
“You named her after your grandma?” His blue eyes shine with unshed tears, looking up from Emily to me.
“Of course. She was the closest thing I had to a loving mom.”
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