Striker
Lords of Carnage MC
Daphne Loveling
Copyright 2020 Daphne Loveling
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Contents
Credits
Mailing List
Dedication
Epigraph
Prologue
1. Ember
2. Striker
3. Ember
4. Striker
5. Ember
6. Striker
7. Ember
8. Ember
9. Ember
10. Striker
11. Ember
12. Striker
13. Striker
14. Ember
15. Striker
16. Ember
17. Ember
18. Striker
19. Striker
20. Ember
21. Ember
22. Ember
23. Ember
24. Striker
25. Ember
26. Ember
27. Striker
28. Ember
29. Striker
30. Striker
31. Ember
32. Striker
33. Striker
34. Ember
35. Striker
36. Ember
Epilogue
Daphne Talks Out Her Ass About Striker
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JUMANJI!
“Love comes like lightning, and disappears the same way. If you are lucky, it strikes you right.”
- Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni, The Palace of Illusions
Prologue
Ember
I’ve had a lot of odd cases in my somewhat brief time as a lawyer.
But boy oh boy, this one takes the cake.
On paper, the clients sitting in front of me right now don’t seem all that different from the ones I usually get. A man and his girlfriend, who came to me because the man wants to get formal custody of his daughter.
The girlfriend is here because she wants to marry the man and adopt said daughter. But before that, the girlfriend needs to obtain a divorce from her husband — from whom she has been informally separated for more than two years.
Messy, yes. Complicated, sure. But I get complicated cases fairly often.
That’s not what makes this situation strange.
What makes it strange is that the man in front of me is a member of an outlaw motorcycle club.
As for the woman: her soon-to-be-ex-husband is a gangster.
And thus begins a very atypical work day in the offices of December Wells, Family Law Attorney.
A day, it turns out, that will change my life forever.
1
Ember
“So basically,” explains Cady, leaning back in her chair, “we have three separate but connected cases that we’d like you to be working on at the same time.”
The attractive dark blonde with deep brown eyes glances over at the long-haired, muscular man sitting next to her. The man hasn’t said much yet. So far, he just watches his girlfriend and lets her talk. The strong, silent type, I’m guessing.
Cady continues, enumerating on her fingers.
“First, we need to figure out how to get Tank permanent custody of his little girl. Her name is Wren, by the way.” Her eyes soften as she says the name. “Second, I need to file for divorce.” Cady pauses. “I’ve been estranged for a while from my husband,” — she stumbles over the word — “and I should have filed a long time ago, honestly. I guess I’ve been putting off dealing with it.” She takes another breath and looks up at me, lips curving into a smile. “Then, when that’s all done, Tank and I will get married, and assuming all goes well, we’ll start the paperwork for me to adopt Wren.”
“I see.” I turn to the man. “Mr. Barrigan, is that more or less how you see this working?”
The man that Cady calls Tank — whose real name is Matthew Barrigan — locks his dark, brooding eyes on mine, and gives me the barest of nods. He’s distractingly handsome, with longish brown hair, a short beard, and sensual lips. His long sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos lining his forearms. The patches on his leather jacket tell me he’s a member of the Lords of Carnage MC, the local motorcycle club.
Tank Barrigan is every inch the bad boy. His entire presence exudes grit, power, and masculinity. His is the kind of raw strength that comes not from the gym, but from the street. If I met this man out in public, I’d I wouldn’t know whether to be scared of him or attracted to him. Probably both, to be honest. He’s the kind of guy I might cross the street to avoid — except for one crazy, incongruous thing.
He’s wearing what looks like a kid’s plastic pop bead bracelet on one wrist.
I caught myself staring at the bracelet when he and Cady came into my office, its bright burst of color an instant distraction. I’ve been fighting not to gawk at it ever since. I can’t imagine that that bracelet came from anyone other than his daughter. In my line of work, I’ve gotten good at reading signs and body language, and the fact that a big, scary dude like Tank would wear that bracelet in public tells me something very important about my prospective client. Something more important than perhaps any other detail.
It tells me his commitment to fatherhood is real. It tells me how deeply he loves his little girl.
Tank shifts his gaze away from me to Cady. Her petite hand has been wrapped in his giant one ever since they sat down. The way his expression shifts as soon as their eyes meet tells me something else about this man. Something undeniable. Matthew “Tank” Barrigan is in love with Cady Abernathy, body and soul.
A sharp pang of grief hits me unexpectedly. Not for what I’ve lost, exactly. More for what I never had in the first place.
I swallow, and mentally push it away, before my new clients can notice anything is wrong.
“Well,” I murmur, straightening. “You’re right, it is all a little complicated, isn’t it? But I think I understand well enough. We’ll just take things step by step. Like you said, the first issue is the little girl. Wren.” I make a note on my pad and turn to Tank. “From what you’ve told me, Wren was dropped off on your doorstep, and you haven’t heard from the biological mother since. You don’t have an address for her? No contact information of any kind?”
“No.” The word rumbles from Tank’s lips in a deep baritone. “Let’s just say, there’s reasons she wouldn’t want anyone in my MC to find her. Jess betrayed the club,” he states simply. “So she’s probably not lookin’ to be found.”
“Hmm. Okay, well, that’s going to make things a little tougher,” I murmur. “Do you happen to know whether you’re listed as the father on the birth certificate?”
His brows knit together. “Nope. No idea. I
haven’t seen the birth certificate. Wouldn’t know where to find it. All I have to go on is that Jess told me Wren is mine.”
“Okay,” I nod. “Well, in that case, the first thing to do is locate the certificate. If you’re listed on it, that will make things much easier. And of course, we will have to try to find the mother. Can you give me her full name?”
“Jessica Anderle.” Tank’s voice turns hard, angry. “But she doesn’t want the kid. I’m sure of that.”
I’m guessing there’s a back story here. And from the sound of it, it’s not a pretty one. I’m curious to hear what it is, but I’ve learned in my profession that the best thing to do in these cases is not to get bogged down by gossip and hearsay. It doesn’t advance the case to know any more — not right now, anyway. And it wastes the client’s time and money to let them spout off their grievances. So for now, I steer the conversation forward.
“Well, hopefully that means she won’t fight you for custody if and when we find her,” I answer. “This whole process would be much easier if we could have her sign a waiver releasing her parental rights. That way, Cady could eventually adopt her with no issues.” I weigh my words. “If the mother can’t be found, we can petition the courts to terminate her rights. That would be a long process, though, I’m warning you. We’ll have to show the courts that efforts have been made to find her and serve her. Then it will have to go through the court system, which won’t be quick.”
Cady looks grim. “We figured that might be the case.”
“Paternity rights will need to be established,” I continue, on a roll now with a patter I’ve explained dozens of times. “In the absence of the birth certificate, a paternity test could determine that. In the meantime, the child would likely be put in foster care…”
“No!” Tank roars, so loudly I jump. My right hand nearly dumps over my cup of coffee, but I catch it just in time.
“Mr. Barrigan, you have to understand…” I begin. But he’s half out of his chair before I get any further.
“She ain’t gonna be taken from me,” he hisses, jabbing a hard finger at me. His eyes flash like flint against steel. “We’re not putting her with anyone else. We’re not fucking doing that! No matter what. Not. An. Option.”
He runs a rough hand through his hair — the hand with the bracelet — and I see that it’s shaking. “She has a father,” he mutters, half to himself. “She lives with me.”
I glance over at Cady in alarm. Her face is pale, but her jaw is set in a similar determination to Tank’s. She laces her gently on his forearm, guiding him to sit back down.
“Ms. Wells…” she begins quietly.
“Call me December, please,” I insist. “Or Ember. My friends call me Ember.”
I don’t normally give my nickname to clients, but I do now, hoping to calm the electricity in the room.
Cady sighs. “Ember. You have to understand, Wren has been through a lot. We can go into that, if you need us to, so you’ll understand.” Her voice quavers. “But having her spend time in foster care would be truly traumatic for her. Please believe me when I tell you it would be cruel and terrible for her to be taken away from Tank. She needs the stability of her father.”
“And Cady,” Tank rasps. “She’s more of a goddamn mother to her than the woman who birthed her ever will be. We ain’t lettin’ her be taken away from us, Ms. Wells. No matter what. That’s not negotiable.”
The fierce determination on both of their faces is like looking at two halves of the same coin. It’s clear to me that these two will do anything to keep that little girl safe and with them. They are not going to let go of Tank’s daughter, even for a moment, no matter what.
Even, maybe, if it means breaking the law.
Taking a deep breath, I look each of them in the eye — first Tank, then Cady.
“This may be a little tricky, then,” I warn. “We’ll just need to go step by step, and hope we don’t hit a dead end.”
Tank seems to relax a bit, and next to him, Cady exhales in relief.
“We got a guy in the MC, who can help you with intel if you need it,” Tank rumbles. “His name’s Tweak. He’s the one who helped us track Jess down the last time, before she flew the coop.”
“Noted.” I pause. “Speaking of which, there is one more thing I want to discuss with you.”
“What’s that?” Cady asks.
“I want to mention that there may be a potential issue with the fact of Mr. Barrigan’s… lifestyle.” I raise a brow, glance at his leather jacket. “The courts might not look very favorably on his request for parental rights. Obviously, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But I’m just warning you about that, so we can all be prepared for it.”
“But if Tank’s paternity is established, though, through a test, and the mother agrees to terminate her rights, then that shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” Cady argues. “If we can prove that he’s the father?”
“I’ll be honest, it still might be an issue,” I admit. “I’ll need to know everything there is to know about Mr. Barrigan’s criminal record.” Instantly, I realize what I’ve said. “If there is a criminal record, I mean,” I add hastily, reddening.
Tank grunts, neither a confirmation or a denial. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.” He shifts in his seat. “And listen, call me Tank, would ya? I’m gettin’ sick of this Mr. Barrigan shit.”
His words are so blunt that I can’t help but laugh, oddly charmed.
“All right. Tank, then.” I find myself grinning. “So, if you’re ready to proceed, let’s get some financial details out of the way.”
I tell them my hourly rate, and give them a ballpark idea of what they can expect to pay for my services, which they seem to have no problem with. I ask Cady whether she wants to begin the process of serving her estranged husband divorce papers immediately, and she says yes. I tell them what that will likely cost, as well. I take a few further details from them, and explain I’ll be able to get started on both cases within the week.
But then, things get one step weirder.
“There’s one more thing,” Tank says, just as we’re wrapping up.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“We’d like to assign you an escort.”
“An… escort?” I repeat dumbly.
“A bodyguard,” he shrugs. “Protection. Just temporarily.”
“Tank…” Cady admonishes, shooting him a warning glance. “I really don’t think that’s necessary.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t understand.”
What in the hell?
Tank looks me up and down. “Cady’s husband — ex-husband — is a bad dude. This divorce thing ain’t something he’s agreed to, and we don’t know how he’s gonna react. I want to put a man from my club on you for a while. Just to make sure you’re safe.”
“I honestly think Tank is overreacting on this,” Cady interrupts, in a tone that tells me the two of them have had this out before. “I haven’t seen Kurt in a couple of years, and he hasn’t contacted me once, or tried to come after me. There’s no reason to believe he would do anything violent or dangerous.”
Tank crosses his thick, tatted forearms over his chest, a storm on his face. It’s clear from Cady’s worried expression that she’s afraid this will scare me off from taking them as clients.
“Look, I appreciate the intent,” I say. “But that won’t be necessary. I’m sure I’ll be fine.” I stand, to indicate this part of the conversation is closed. “I’ll be in touch in a few days with an update on what I’ve found out. At that point I’ll outline the next steps to be taken. In the meantime, don’t hesitate to call me if you have any other information you think I should know.”
“Thank you so much,” Cady enthuses. She clasps both of her hands around mine in a grateful shake. “I know this is going to be a long road, but we’re prepared for it. And it’s going to be such a relief when this is all behind us. I can’t wait until Wren is legally ours.�
�
“And you’re legally mine,” Tank murmurs, sliding his arm around her.
Cady giggles softly. “You know I’m yours regardless. You can’t get rid of me.”
They gaze at each other with such open tenderness, I feel like they’ve forgotten I’m here. Awkwardly, I clear my throat. Cady’s eyes flick from Tank to me.
“Sorry,” she says, embarrassed.
I laugh. “No problem at all. Honestly, it’s a nice change to see a happy couple in this office. Most of the cases I end up with are between two people who are at each other’s throats.”
“Are you married, Ember?” Cady asks.
Her eyes flick to my left hand, where an antique fire opal ring — a gift from my father — marks the place where my wedding set used to be. It’s my one private concession to the secret I’ve kept for far longer than I’ve wanted to.
“Yes.” I give her a tight smile. “I’m married.”
Tank, Cady, and I say our goodbyes. I walk them out of my office and through to the lobby, and tell Margot, my assistant, to take their contact information and set up an electronic file for them in our database.
STRIKER: Lords of Carnage MC Page 1