Three Strikes (Demons Disciples MC Book 1)

by Allana Walker

  “Daria?” His breathless tone comes through the receiver like he’s running a marathon. I can’t talk. I can’t tell him that his daughter is missing and that her psycho biological father is the one who has her. “Dee? I’m coming home.”

  “Emily is missing.” My voice cracks.

  “I’m just boarding now. I’m coming home, baby.” The line goes dead. I look up to see Striker staring at me.

  “Well, where has he got her?”

  “He doesn’t.” I shake my head. “He wouldn’t.”

  “He fucking has her, and I swear if he has touched even one hair on her head, I will kill the bastard. I’ll make you watch and I’ll kill you. Slowly.”

  I jump back. Jess is by my side in a nanosecond. Where did she come from?

  She guides me to the chairs near the window. “Nico called me.” Obviously reading my confused expression. “It’ll all be okay.” She reaches across the table to take my hand.

  “You know, the first twenty-four hours are the most crucial.” I stare out of the window. “What if she’s dead? What if I never see my baby again?” Hot tears roll down my cheeks.

  “She’ll be back in your arms. I promise, we will find her.” Jess squeezes my hand.

  “Don’t do that, Jess. Don’t make those sorts of promises that you can’t keep.”

  “Daria, I-” she begins, but I can’t stay here any longer. I can feel the walls closing in on me. “Daria, wait,” she calls, but I go outside and just run. To where, I don’t know. I just have to leave there.

  I walked back into the clubhouse an hour later. I’d walked around the usual places we go, asked around if anyone has seen her. A few people said they may have seen her, but they couldn’t be sure.

  “You have to eat and drink something.” Jess places a plate of food and a glass of water in front of me, but I can’t.

  “I don’t want it. Not until my little girl is back.”

  “You need to keep up your strength for her coming home, Dar.”

  “I said I don’t want it!” I snap at Jess for the second time in my life. I don’t mean to, I just want Emily back. Jess runs down the hall, followed by Nico.

  Come on, Emily. Come home to me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Striker

  Bitch comes in here and accuses me of taking my own daughter, now she’s talking to that asshole that says he’s her father. That stops now. I’m her father. No-one else.

  “Anything?” I ask Mouse, so named because you don't hear him walk about until he speaks.

  “Sorry, Striker. Nothing yet. I won't sleep until we find her.” My fists clench. I'll kill whoever put their hands on my baby girl.

  Leaving him to do what he does best, I walk out and see Daria back from wherever the fuck she went to, staring out of the window, hugging a teddy bear close to her. She's barely said a word to anyone since she stormed in here and accused me of kidnapping my own daughter. I mean, I can see where she was coming from since I did say I would have her stay with me for good whether she liked it or not. But I would make it known that I had Emily; I wouldn't hide it. She hasn’t eaten anything. Jess has tried to get her to eat and drink something but she refused, shouting at her.

  “Daria, sweetheart.” A small blonde woman rushes in to the clubhouse, making a beeline towards Daria. Daria turns upon hearing the woman's voice and crushes her body to hers. I narrow my eyes when I see a tall man follow closely behind the woman. Siblings?

  “Are you hurt?” His voice is hard as he touches her face. I walk towards him, wanting to snap his hand in two for touching Daria. What the fuck? Where the hell did that come from?

  “I just want my baby back.” Daria cries.

  The guy’s blazing blue eyes connect with mine.

  “Tyler Cross.” The guy offers me his hand to shake. I can tell by the way he's looking at me he wants to put that hand around my neck.

  Daria looks up, eyes red and puffy. “Anything?” She sniffs, looking up at me.

  “No,” I snap and walk away towards the bar. Blair hands me a beer without a word.

  “Drinking isn't the answer, son.” Draining my bottle of beer, I slam it down and look at the person who thinks he can call me son. The same blue eyes penetrate me like they did just a few minutes ago.

  “Who the fuck are you to tell me that drinking isn’t the answer?” I sneer. How dare he walk into my clubhouse, call me son, and tell me that drinking isn’t the answer? Stuck up prick.

  “Mr. Cross?” My best friend walks out with Jessica behind him.

  Jess runs towards the stuck-up ass and hugs him tightly. Who the fuck is this guy?

  “Daddy.” Jess sobs into his neck. The Tyler Cross

  “Sweetheart, it's okay. Everything will be okay.”

  “Will it?” Daria's soft voices speaks, making everyone look at her. “Will it be okay though?” She’s still clinging to the damn bear. “My baby girl is out there somewhere with God knows who. She could be hurt. She... she could be dead.”

  Slamming my shot glass down, I storm towards her. The small blonde woman steps in front of her like she's gonna protect her from me.

  “Don’t you dare step any further.” She points a manicured finger at me.

  “Fuck you, bitch,” I spit, looking her up and down. “My daughter is not dead! When I find that jumped up pretty boy who took her, I'll rip him limb from limb and she'll be coming back to live with me.” I look Daria in the eye when I say the next part. “You're clearly not fit to be a mother.”

  She runs out of the doors as quick as the words leave my mouth, dropping the teddy in the process.

  The blonde bitch runs after her, along with Jess, who glares at me as she passes.

  “Staring at me won't find my fucking daughter.” They all look away to continue doing what Dad has tasked them to do to find Emily. I swear I will kill that husband of Daria’s if he has touched a hair on his head.

  He may not have her.

  Storming to my room, I slam the door and open my laptop to search myself.

  Hang on, baby. Daddy will find you.

  ***

  I've sat in my room on my laptop, marking possible places this dickhead could have Emily. Slamming the laptop shut, I launch it across the room, smashing it to pieces. I pull at my hair in frustration that I haven't found her yet, and it's been three hours. Three hours she’s been gone. I know I survived nine years of not having her, but I didn’t know about her.

  My door swings open, and I glare at the person who has the audacity to come into my room without knocking. The last person to do that was Daria when she was seventeen. I was more than willing to welcome her in here back then, but today, I'm in no mood to fuck her tight cunt raw. But, fuck, that was the best night of my life. Images of her on all fours as I pounded into her pussy back then makes my dick harden.

  “You think you're this hard man because you run a motorcycle club? Huh? Because you have this club full of whores that will bend over like you're some kind of king? That you have the right to speak to me like that?!”

  Looking up from my seat, I see blazing hazel eyes narrowing at me. I’m about to tell her I don’t run the club, Dad does, but she starts shooting her mouth off again.

  “Do you not think of what I'm going through? The fact that I'm blaming myself for all of this? But you're just as much to blame as me!” she screams. I’m in front of her in an instant, boiling blood coursing through my veins. She’s fucking blaming me for Emily being taken by her ex? Is she fucking with me right now? “Driving around on your motorcycle killing people for kicks. Getting your dick sucked by any skank that would have you.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Let's face it, all those bitches out there would fuck you all at the same time. I'm surprised you're not all riddled with God knows what!” She curls up her lip in disgust.

  “Sounds to me like you're jealous.”

  “The fuck I am! Been there, done that, and got a fucking kid out of it!” She r
aises her voice again. “We were happy until you came into our lives! We had a good life. We were fucking safe! You did this, Striker! This is all fucking you!”

  My hand grips her throat and I slam her against the door. “Don't fucking push me, bitch. I won't hesitate to kill you. Just like I should have done two months ago for keeping my kid from me!” She claws at my hand, trying to get me to release her, but all it does is add fuel to the fire, making me squeeze harder.

  “Do it.” She gasps. “Kill me.” Her face turns purple from the lack of oxygen. “FUCKING KILL ME!”

  My chest rises and falls rapidly like I've just run a thousand miles. Her eyes roll to the back of her head. Releasing my hand, she takes a deep lung full of air, touching her neck, our eyes never leaving each other.

  I can't help my actions when I'm around her. I slam my lips against hers, our teeth clashing against one another’s. She fights against me at first, then relaxes into the kiss. Her fingers spear my hair and pull hard, making me groan. I pin her against the door with my hips, grinding my hard cock against her hot core. One minute I'm trying to kill her, the next I want to fuck her nine ways of Sunday. Reaching down between us, I free my hard as stone cock, bunching her skirt at her waist. Taking the thin piece of material, I move her panties to the side and drive my dick into her. There's no need to prepare her for me; I know she's already wet. Sliding in and out sharply, her moans fill my mouth as the kiss becomes more animalistic.

  “God, I fucking hate you!” she breathes out between thrusts.

  “Oh, sweetheart. Tell that to your pussy.”

  Thrusting harder, I cause a satisfying gasp and moan from her. Her nails dig harder into my skin. I feel an unfamiliar rush course through me as I slow the thrusts down the longer I look at her. Her eyes close, mouth slack and gasping for air. A lone tear falls from the corner of one of her eyes, and leaning forward, I kiss the tear away. Her head falls forward, leaning on my shoulder. I thrust harder and faster. I feel her walls tightening around my dick and I know she’s close. It may have been almost ten years since I’ve fucked her, but I know her body more than she knows it herself. I feel myself about to come, so I pull out and release my load onto her bare legs.

  After staring at each other for what feels like hours, she barges past me to my en-suite. I’m left standing there with my dick hanging out of my jeans and a feeling I’m not used to; rejection. It fucking sucks.

  She just let you fuck your frustrations out on her, idiot. That’s not rejection.

  Running my hand through my hair, I tuck myself in and walk towards the door. “Daria, are you okay?”

  The door opens and she looks up at me with clouded brown eyes, shaking her head. She collapses to her knees before I can catch her. Her knees hit the floor with a sickening thud. “What if we never find her? What if they’ve done something to our little girl?” I join her on the floor, our knees touching slightly. It’s the first time she’s referred to Emily as ours.

  “If he has hurt her. I will kill the bastard,” I seethe. “I swear to you, Daria. When we find her, I will make it my mission to protect you two for as long as I’m breathing.”

  She sniffs. “Jake wouldn’t do this. He was catching a plane.”

  Likely story.

  “Whoever has, I’ll make them wish they were never born. No-one touches a Demon Disciple and gets away with it,” I vow.

  A knock at the door brings us out of our little moment. Getting up and walking to the door, we see a club whore wearing nothing but a smile until she spots Daria behind me. Her face turns into a sneer, like Daria has no right being in my room.

  “I’m going to see if there are any leads on my daughter.” Daria storms away.

  “What the fuck do you want, Kara?” I sigh, not even looking at her.

  “I thought I could take your mind off all this.” She places her hand on my junk and starts rubbing it.

  “Off what? The fact that my daughter is out there somewhere?” My nose flares in anger when she nods, biting her fake plumped up lips.

  “Is she really yours though? The way that bitch looks at the old guy, I wouldn’t be surprised if the brat was…”

  She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. I grab her by the neck and squeeze harder than I anticipated. I completely black out until my best friend and other brothers pull me off her.

  “Get the fuck off me.” I shrug them off as I watch the other whores and a couple of the wives pick up the bitch that dared to question me being Emily’s father. I am her father, there’s no denying that. She’s mine.

  “Get this bitch out of here. She’s no longer welcome here,” I growl. “If I ever see her around here again, I’ll finish the fucking job.”

  “What the fuck, dude?” Nico pushes me back in my room. Pacing the length of my room, I run my fingers through my hair and pull. “What hell are you doing? You nearly fucking killed her. What would the prez say if there was another dead whore at your hands? Huh?” Nico slams the door, standing in front of me to halt my stride. “Your dad would kill you. You’re still on parole, man.”

  “I know!”

  “Do you want to go back inside? To lose Emily when you just found out about her? Because that’s what’s going to happen. Daria will never let you see her if you continue like this.”

  I push him to the wall and press my forearm into his throat. “I fucking know, Nico. I don’t know what’s going on in my head. I found out about Emily, and I fucking hate Daria for keeping her from me. I want to tear the bastard that has her limb from limb.”

  “Well, you need to calm yourself and keep your temper under control.” He shoves me off him. “Now, let’s go and see if there are any developments. Jess’ dad called in a favor from someone he knows in the police.”

  The fucking cops are coming here? I give him a hard stare.

  “There’s nothing illegal visible.” He rolls his eyes, walking out.

  Fucking pigs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Daria

  Watching Striker walk out from where his room is, our eyes lock for a second until I look away. I’m ashamed at what has just happened. I told Jake I was never going back there, yet, here I am in this clubhouse, fucking him while our daughter is out there somewhere. What the fuck am I doing?

  The police come and take statements from us all.

  “Okay, Mrs. Jefferson.” The young detective around my age smiles sadly at me.

  “It’s Miss Denver.” My breath shudders. He nods then looks behind me to Striker.

  “Mr. Xanders.” Striker ignores him and walks away. “We’ll do everything we can to find your daughter.” He places a hand on my shoulder.

  “Thank you, Detective Dickson.” I shake his hand.

  “Please, call me Brad.” Reaching into the inside pocket of his suit, he takes out a card. “If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to call.”

  He leaves and I walk to the bar. I need a drink. “Can I get a gin and tonic, please?” I sit on the stool by Striker. My leg brushes his. He looks down and moves away. Shaking my head, a tear slips down my cheek.

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?” Looking to my left, I see the same man that was at the front the night I first saw Striker. “I know it was a stupid question, but I had to ask.” I stay silent as I sip my drink. “Look, I know he can be a hard ass, and let’s face it, he’s an asshole. But he has had a hard life since the age of ten. Just don’t be too hard on him.”

  I scoff and shake my head. “A lot of people have hard lives from birth, Chucky. There’s no excuse to be a jerk to everyone.”

  He chuckles a little. “That’s very true, sweetheart.” He stares at me for a long time, drinking his amber-colored liquid. It starts to make me feel uncomfortable. “You could be very good for him.” His voice is so low I almost miss it. I’m about to question him, but he takes his drink and leaves me wondering what the hell he meant by that.

  ***

  We're all
sitting quietly at the bar. I can feel Striker's gaze burning into my skin from the other side of the room where he’s chatting to a few of the other guys who huddle around a laptop. It feels different between us now since we slept together again. For me anyway. He still looks like he wants to murder me, but he’s different. Chucky’s words swirl around in my head. You could be very good for him. I know for sure that Striker doesn’t want a relationship, nor is he a one woman man. I mean, look around. He has his pick of any one of these girls. He would never just settle for a plain Jane like me.

  “We’ll find her,” Jess says. It’s then I realize we have been staring at one another this whole time.

  Our heads swing to the door when it opens. It all happens so fast. I catch sight of Striker going for the person who just walked in. Sprinting towards them, I try to pull Striker off him before he kills him.

  “Where the fuck is my daughter?” He presses harder into his throat. I can feel the muscles tense the harder he presses. “I'll fucking make you suffer a slow, painful death if you have even breathed in the same direction as her.”

  “Striker, let him go,” I beg him, still pulling at his arm. “Please let him go.” Tears fall unbidden from my eyes. Taking his eyes off Jake, he looks down at me. I plead with him through my eyes, and finally he relents, still staring at him.

  “Jake, are you okay?” I touch his shoulder, looking him in the eye and trying to gain his attention but it’s glued on Striker. “Jake.” Jake shoves my hand off his shoulder.

  “Where the fuck is my daughter?” Striker repeats through gritted teeth.

  “You mean the daughter who didn't know you existed until a few months ago?” He slowly walks towards Striker, his voice hoarse. I've been on the receiving end of Striker’s hand around my neck and he's bound to be in a lot of pain now. “The same little girl I helped bring up. The same little girl that calls me Daddy, tells me about all her hopes and dreams. The daughter that, every single night, wants me to tell her all about how me and her mom got married? The same little girl I would lay my life down for given the chance.” Right now he is chest to chest with Striker with no sign of backing down. “Being a dad requires love, not fucking DNA, asshole!”