“Your father should be here.” He places his hand on top of mine.
“Grandpa,” I begin, but he interrupts me.
“No, listen to me. You have to heal this. You only get one dad, mo cridhe.” His Scottish accent is coming through. He moved here when my dad was ten and my grandma’s mom was ill. My uncle stayed in Scotland, he refused to move here, so he lived with Grandpa’s brother. “This little gem needs to know her grandpa.”
“Grandpa, I know. But as long as he’s married to Denise, there’s no way we can repair anything.”
“I don’t like that he has taken her side, but I do know he’s as cut up over this as you are, Daria.” I scoff at him. “Don’t disrespect me by laughing at me.”
“Sorry, Grandpa. But if he was that cut up, he wouldn’t have tried to make me give Emily up.”
“He did what?” He raises his voice, causing Emily to stir and cry.
“Daddy dearest forgot to mention that, I’m guessing.” I take Emily to feed her. “Look, Grandpa, I appreciate you wanting to heal our relationship, but it’s up to Dad to heal this. It’s not my fault.” I sigh. “Now, can we change the subject?”
“How about we talk about how that husband of yours isn’t the real father.”
“He is, Grandpa.” I swallow.
“I’m not stupid, Daria.” He laughs. “Now, who is the real father?”
“A biker.”
“A Demon?”
“How did you know?”
“I know, my mo cridhe.” He winks.
To this day, I still have no idea how he knew. He swiftly changed the subject but was calm and at ease with the fact I slept with a biker. He’s living in a care home as he’s no longer able to look after himself. He almost set the house on fire so, and we had no choice with my busy work schedule and Jake hardly around. And my dad? I have no clue what his sorry excuse was. Denise probably had him doing other things to keep him from his own father.
Thinking about Denise only fuels my emotions to get through this.
Taking a deep breath, I exit my car and walk over to the reception area of the garage. I would rather talk to Striker face to face and let him know I told Emily the truth. I would have also preferred it had been away from here, but I can’t have everything my own way. I asked the receptionist at the garage if she knew where I could find Striker.
“He’s over there, sweetie.” I don’t get the feeling of fear or disgust when I talk to her. She seems like a nice, loving person, like Chucky I met all those years ago. Looking over, I see him chatting to a young boy around sixteen, handing him a clipboard.
Time to get this over with.
“Striker?” He looks around from talking to the young guy.
“What are you doin’ here?”
“Um… I need to talk to you.” I can see he doesn’t want to talk or even have me in this place. “Please, it’s about Emily.”
This gets him to move and talk to me. “Fine. Follow me.”
My heart beats hard against my ribs as we walk down a familiar corridor and into his room where I remain standing.
“Well.” He sighs, sitting at his desk. Flashbacks of seventeen-year-old me being fucked screech into my head.
“I wanted to let you know that I told Emily, and the days we discussed start next week.”
“You’re telling me?” He scoffs. “No-one tells me when I can see my own daughter.”
His attitude pisses me off. “Yes, I’m telling you.”
“Listen, little girl. You do as I tell you. I tell you when I want to see my daughter, and you drop everything and bring her to me.”
Is he fucking with me right now?
“Or what?” My defiant attitude shines through the more he speaks. “Are you going threaten me again? Because if you are, then you can forget it.” My back is against the wall, his body so close I’m sure he can feel the heat from me.
Smirking, he traces his finger over my jaw, causing goosebumps along the way. “Oh, no, baby. No threats.” Leaning in closer, his lips are near to my ear, making me shiver. “Only promises.” Turning my head slightly our lips are so close together, our breath mixing together. My legs weaken and tremble as our eyes stay connected. My senses heighten so high, I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears. His hand travels lightly down my chest over my breasts, down my stomach to the waistband of my skirt, still maintaining eye contact.
His head dips lower, his other hand turning my head to the side and his lips pepper kisses up and down my neck, licking and sucking the sweet spot between my ear and jaw. My once tense muscles loosen and my legs part as his hand pulls my skirt up higher, exposing my lace panties, pulling them to the side and sticking two fingers inside, stretching me. My hand spears into his hair and pulls hard. He stops the assault on my neck and stares at me before growling like a wild animal and slamming his lips on mine, removing his fingers and replaces them with his cock. He drives into me quick and hard until I come all over his dick and he explodes inside me.
What the heck did I just do?
“Now you know who calls the shots around here. I will decide when I see Emily.” He sneers at me smugly.
“Do you know what, Striker? You walk around like you don't give a shit about anyone or anything in this life. Like you only care about yourself.” Squaring my shoulders, I push him away from me, looking into his eyes as I fix my skirt and hair. “You act like you're this big hot shot biker. Yeah, you can fuck me up and kill me with one swipe of your knife.” I puff out a humorless laugh. “You already have done that, and I’ve got the scar to prove it. But it's all a mask. I can see it. Deep down, you truly care about every single one of those men out there, and the women to some extent. You would die for them no matter what because that's what bikers are. They're a brotherhood.” I glare at him. “You keep pushing people away like you do, no one will ever want to be near you and you'll end up a very lonely old man with nothing but regrets and your fucking knives.” Shaking my head, I turn to walk away. “Not even Emily will want to know you.”
“Don't ever use my fucking daughter against me like that again.” His fingers squeeze my neck. “Do you understand me? Emily is my daughter. Nothing and no one will ever stop her seeing me. You got that, little girl?” I try to get his hand off me. “I said, do you understand?” He presses harder. Squeezing my eyes closed, a tear drops from my eye, but I nod. He lets me go and I cough, staring at him. “Oh, and tell that fucker you’ve been dating, sorry I ruined you for all men. You won't feel his cock tonight after I've just fucked you.”
“I fucking hate you, Striker!”
He laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, tell that to your soaking wet cunt.”
My face flames in embarrassment. Fucking asshole.
“Fuck you.”
“Is that an invitation? I'm willing and able to go for round two, if you are?” He stands so close to me that I feel his body heat radiating off him. My breath quickens as he leans in. “Just say the word and I can fuck you as I did back then.” My stomach clenches as my panties get wetter thinking about that night. “You're thinking about that night right now, aren't you?” His lips are barely touching my skin. I feel like I'm on fire. “How I bent you over that desk over there, fucked your pussy raw, almost choking you to death. I thought of nothing else when I was in prison, Daria. Those beautiful tits bouncing up and down, our skin slapping against one another.” My heart is racing. I'm sure if I was connected to an ECG, the machine would explode. He looks down at my breasts. “I'm all about the double D's, sweetheart.” He looks me in the eye. “Then I think about snapping that fucking neck in half.” His hand grips my neck again, fury in his eyes. “Keep my kid away from me again, and I will kill you.” When I nod, he lets go and I run out of the room as fast as my legs can carry me.
I hear him laughing as I run out of the room, through the bar area, past some older guy. Making it to my car, I slam the door shut, trying to get my breathing under control. Why do I let
that bastard control me like that? He does nothing but fuck with my head at every turn. I want to run as far away from here as possible, pack mine and Emily's shit and leave. I'm so lost in my thoughts, I let out a squeal as someone knocks on my window.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to give you a fright.” It’s a kind-looking man who looks a little older than my dad. I vaguely recognize him.
“It...it's okay. I'm just leaving.” Panic starts to rise within me.
“Relax. I'm Barron, the owner of this place.” He holds out his hand, smiling a gentle smile.
“Daria Denver.” His eyes widen a fraction as if realizing something when he looks at my neck.
“I know who you are, sweetheart. I saw you running from his room.” He gives me a small sideways smile. “Are you sure he's the father?”
What the hell? Why is he asking me that?
“Excuse me?”
“Are you sure your daughter is my son’s?”
“How fucking dare you! I'm not some slut who sleeps around. Your son was the third person I had ever slept with. Have ever slept with. I'm not one of those fucking whores you all share!” Anger flows through me and right out of my mouth. How dare he accuse me of lying about Striker being Emily's dad? He can’t really deny her; she's a carbon copy of him. “Wait, I didn't tell you I had a daughter.”
“Sweetheart, this is my club. I know everything that goes on under that roof. Striker told me about you and Emily when he kept you here against your will. I saved you from certain death when he had a knife to your throat.” He blurs to nothing but a blob of color before me. That day is a huge fog. I remember a man telling me it was going to be okay, that the doc would sort me out. Then he was gone.
“Thank you.”
“No need to thank me. I don't want another dead girl in my club.” He says that so casually, like it happens every day. Maybe it does, I mean, look at the people they have here. Half naked women walking around, being passed around like playthings.
“Miss Denver, I know what you think about us, but that's not how we treat women around here. I didn't bring my son up to disrespect women, let alone hit a woman.”
I scoff. “I have the physical and mental scars to prove otherwise.”
Wow, where did this attitude come from? I look over his shoulder just in time to see Striker staring at me, his hand clasped around one of the whores’ waists. She's kissing his neck and her hand is on his crotch. My vision blurs again. Why the hell do I care?
Because like it or not, Daria, you’re falling for him.
***
Striker has been back in our lives properly for around five months and he saw Emily with my presence the first three times as Emily asked me to. I have to admit, I actually had fun with them as a family unit. Maybe we can actually do this. Striker acts like a big goofball around Emily, like a big teddy bear. Anything she wanted, he got for her. A total contrast to his attitude towards me when I told him no. When Emily is with both of us, he treats me like I’m a person and not someone he screwed years ago, offering to pay for lunch and whatever we’re doing that day. As soon as Emily leaves, he’s back to the same Striker I’ve come to know. A grade A` asshole. The one memory that sticks in my mind is when we went bowling three weeks ago.
“You ready?” Striker has come to pick us up for the third time this week. I made good on my promise to Emily that I would come with her until she was comfortable to be left alone with him.
“Yeah, just waiting for Emily to grab her coat.” I offer him a small smile. “Listen, before Emily comes out. I want to say thank you for understanding her need for having me with her these past few days.” He looks down at me and nods.
“Anything for Emily.”
“I’m ready.” Emily runs down the stairs, smiling at us both. I can’t help the beaming smile the spreads across my lips at seeing her this happy. She still sees Jake when he’s back home at his dad’s. It’s still the same scenario as before we divorced. Back for two days then away again for a month. I know Jake Snr. has tried to talk to Jake about spending more time with Emily, but he doesn’t listen and says he’s too busy. Hearing him say that hurt me, that he would rather work than spend time with Emily. I haven’t spoken to him for a couple of months since the whole Emily being kidnapped thing and Striker punching him. I miss him, but maybe the space will do us good.
“Where we going today, Striker?” Emily asks as we climb into his truck. I notice his face falling a little in the rear-view mirror when she doesn’t call him Dad. He looks at me and I give him a genuine smile of sympathy.
“Bowling.”
“Mom is the queen of strikes.” Emily beams with pride. Striker looks at me again in the rear-view mirror, raising an eyebrow.
“Is that so?” The smirk he gives me causes me to feel all hot and light-headed. “We’ll soon see about that, because I happen to be the king of strikes. How can I not be? My name is Striker, after all.”
Emily giggles at him. “Well, King and Queen, you have to show this princess how it’s done.”
“You are both nuts.” I shake my head with a chortle.
We arrive at the alley, and I’m about to pay when Striker puts his hand on mine to stop me. Electricity zips through my veins at the contact.
“I’m paying, Daria.”
“Okay. I’ll get lunch then.”
Snorting out a laugh, he looks down at me as the cashier gives him the tickets and hands our shoes over. “Like that’s going to happen.”
“You paid for everything this week, Striker. I need to pay for something.”
“No. This is my time with Emily. You’re just shadowing, so I will be paying for everything.”
I don’t know why, but that one comment stung and hurt me more than it probably should have. Trying to keep my face as natural as possible, I nod my understanding.
I sit watching Striker showing Emily how to bowl properly, like I haven’t shown her properly.
“Yes!” Emily jumps into Striker’s arms after scoring her first strike ever. “Mom, did you see that?” Her face lights up as she runs up to me.
“I did. Well done, sweetheart.”
“And that’s how it’s done.” He winks at me.
“Oh really? Game on. Get ready to get an ass kicking of your life.” Lacing my fingers together, stretching them out, I grab the ball. “Watch and learn, Xanders.” As I step away, he watches me with an amused sparkle shining in his eyes.
Hitting the final strike of my game, I turn around, grinning from ear to ear, “That’s how it’s done.” I throw his words back at him as I place my hands on my chest, bowing. I look up at him, still smiling, His lips pull into an easy smile, and it’s a refreshing sight to see.
“Come on, Dad.” Our heads snap round at Emily who looks between us, her blue eyes sparkling brighter than I have ever seen them shine before. It’s the first time she’s called him dad. His smile gets wider.
“So, you’re on your dad’s side now?”
“Someone has to knock you off the seven year straight of beating me and Dad.”
“We’ll see. If I win, I buy lunch,” I suggest.
“Deal.” Striker picks up the ball just as my cell beeps with a text. I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips.
“Is that Brad?” Emily blurts out. Her happy exterior crumbles when I nod and Striker misses one pin.
*You free next week?*
*Friday?*
*It’s a date.*
Looking up, I see Striker is hovering over me, his relaxed demeanor gone. “Guess you’re buying.”
Sighing, I stand, walking behind Emily and Striker to hand our shoes back.
After dinner, Striker drops us off back home. As soon as I got the text from Brad, he switched from nice, well, as nice as Striker can be, back to the asshole he usually is.
“Can I stay over at your house sometime?” I hear Emily ask as I unlock the door.
“If Mom is okay with it
, we can arrange it.”
“Mom?”
“Yeah, we’ll arrange it.” Turning, I nod, my lips twitching a little.
“Bye, Dad.” She hugs him tightly as his kisses her head.
“Bye, princess.”
That was it. She’s been having a great time with Striker ever since and that’s all that matters.
I need to stop thinking about Striker and finish getting ready for my date with Brad. Emily will be staying at Striker’s for the first time. I’ve put this off longer than I should have and I’m nervous as hell, but I know I have to let this happen. I’m pulled out of my musings when there’s a knock at the door.
“Dad!” Emily’s happy voice shouts, seeing Striker.
“Hey, Ems. You ready?”
“Don’t forget you have your assignment to finish,” I remind her. She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m serious, Emily. You need that finished tonight.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll get it done before we start the real fun.” Striker winks at her.
“Can we go on your bike?”
“No,” I say before Striker gets the chance to answer. “You’re not going on a motorbike.”
“Ems, go grab the rest of your things and we’ll get going.”
Emily storms off to collect her backpack.
“So, you and bacon boy.”
Rolling my eyes, I pick up my glass of wine. “His name is Brad.”
“Have you fucked him yet?” I wish I never took that gulp of wine; I almost choke on it.
“Excuse me?” I wipe my chin with the back of my hand.
“Come on, don’t be a prude. Have you fucked him?”
“That’s none of your business, Striker.”
“You’re the mother of my kid. It is my business to know who’s in her life.”
“He isn’t in her life. He’s in my life.” I shake my head as I dry my hands.
“Didn’t realize you fucked on the first date.” He leans down, and I feel his hot breath on the shell of my ear. I need to calm my breathing. He’s so close. “Always knew you were a whore.”
And just like that, I’m pissed.
Three Strikes (Demons Disciples MC Book 1) Page 12