Three Strikes (Demons Disciples MC Book 1)

by Allana Walker

  ***

  “Hey.” I smile my greeting at Fran, Chucky, and Blair. I went home to get changed into my workout clothes. Sports bra and yoga pants.

  “Hey, sweetie. He’s finishing up a job and he’ll be here. Can I fix you a drink?”

  I want to ask for alcohol but I need to focus on what Striker tells me without the influence of alcohol.

  “Can I just have a bottle of water, please?”

  “How are you doing, sweetheart?” Chucky asks, taking a seat beside me.

  “I’m good.”

  “I can see that. You look glowing.”

  “Thank you, Chucky. For everything.” A blush creeps up his cheeks when I pull him into a hug. I can’t thank him enough for everything he’s done for me, from letting me out the first time I was here, to trying to talk me down from killing myself.

  “Hey, stop trying to get in my woman’s pants.” Striker jokes, walking towards us. I bite my lip, looking at him. His black hair slicked back, his bright blue eyes, his strong jaw. My eyes travel further down to his broad shoulders, his white oil-stained t-shirt tight across his chest and arms. His blue overalls are tied at his waist, and his long legs stride closer to us. “Eyes up here, baby.” He grins at me, leaning down to kiss me. His eyes look down my top.

  “Eyes up here, baby.” I throw his words back at him. “So, I met Dad today.”

  “Well, that threw a bucket of cold water on my boner.”

  I snort out a laugh. “Precisely why I said it. We need to focus on my defense.”

  “You expect me to focus when you’re dressed like that?”

  “It’s what I wear on my morning run.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You wear that alone?”

  “Striker, you would know this if you woke up with me instead of sleeping in.” I roll my eyes at his cave man ways. “As I was saying, Dad told me you gave him a black eye.” He takes a drink of my water, giving me a sideways look. “Thank you.”

  “You’re thanking me for punching your dad?”

  “Well, no. Not for punching him, but for defending me.” I reach up and peck his lips.

  “You’re welcome.” He grins down at me. “Come on. I’ll show you how to throw a mean punch.”

  Down in the gym, Striker is still trying to teach me how to defend myself from an attack. I have sweat coming from places I never thought I could sweat from.

  “I’m sweating like a hooker in a church.” I wipe my brow with a towel. Looking up, I try to get my breath back to normal when I see Striker smiling at me. I stop breathing. Not at the fact that he looks so fucking hot in just his basketball shorts, but at his smile. It’s breathtakingly beautiful and a rare sight.

  “You definitely fuck like a hooker.” And just like that, I want to kill him again. Slapping him on the chest, he laughs, and I love that. “I’m kidding.” He pulls me to him.

  “Eww, you’re all sweaty.” I squirm against him.

  “You love me all sweaty.”

  “Not right now I don’t.” Managing to escape, I run to the nearest door and hide behind it. I hear him laugh.

  “I’ll find you. I’ll always find you.” He peers round the door look at me. “Told you.”

  He smiles down at me. The longer I look at him, the bigger his smile gets. I trace his lips with my thumb.

  “What?”

  “You have a beautiful smile.”

  He says nothing but goes back to trainer mode. “Now, if someone backs you into a corner. What do you do?” His body looms over me. My heart races, not only from the workout but from the anticipation of what he’s about to do. When I don’t answer him, he changes into the man everyone fears. Everyone but me, now.

  “Bitch, spread those fucking legs for me!” he demands. My legs open on command for him to step into. Looking up at him, I feel like I’m his puppet and he’s my master. I’m prepared to bend to his every whim. He grabs my wrist, pinning my arms against the wall, looking down at me with anger mixed with desire and causing butterflies to flutter in my stomach. His lips are close to mine. “What do you do if someone is this close to what belongs to me?”

  Bringing my knee up, I connect with his manhood, causing him to fall to the ground. Kneeling down beside him, I smile at him sweetly, placing my palm on his cheek.

  “Absolutely nothing. It belongs to me.” Standing, I know I’ve kicked the wasp nest. I’m about to get stung and pay the consequences. I run towards the opposite side of the room, trying to get away from him. Hearing him groan, I peek around the door and see him struggling to stand, cupping his bruised manhood. His eyes lock with mine. I quickly hide behind the door. I hear his footfalls getting closer.

  My heart hammers against my chest with every footstep, then they suddenly stop. Striker opens the door fast, causing me to squeal out in surprise and try to run to the opposite side of the room, but he’s too quick. His arm catches my waist, pulling me to him, my back to his front.

  “Baby, you can’t hide from me.”

  “Who said I was trying to hide? Maybe I wanted to be found by the big bad biker again.” I move my ass against him. I can feel his cock growing.

  “You tried running away from me once before and I found you.” He nips my earlobe, causing me to shiver. “I will always find you, baby.” His lips pepper kisses from the soft sensitive spot behind my ear down my neck to my shoulder and back up again. “I keep telling you that we will never be over, no matter what. We’re one soul.”

  I turn so I’m looking at him. “How can someone who was a complete and utter asshole come out with such swoonworthy words?” He looks down, embarrassed. “Well, well. Is that a blush I see upon your cheeks, big bad biker?” I giggle.

  He narrows his eyes on me. “Don’t push it.” He growls. “I believe you owe me.”

  “Owe you?”

  “Yes, owe me.” Pulling me closer to him, he grinds his hips into mine. “You need to kiss my balls better.”

  Nibbling the corner of my lip, I place my hand between us and start rubbing his dick through his shorts. “Ah, shit.” I kiss along his jaw, nipping his earlobe, then continue rubbing his hardening cock as I kiss my way down his bare chest and stomach towards the waistband of his shorts. I look up and his hooded gaze is upon me, his back against the wall. Pulling his shorts down, I reveal my prize, kissing down the underside and taking his balls in my mouth, sucking them. He groans loudly and it spurs me on.

  “Oh, fuck, Daria.” His voice is breathless as I take him further into my mouth. His fingers spear my hair and he pulls. “Shit.” Hissing, I can tell he’s about to blow with how he’s groaning and breathing. Shouting out my name, he empties himself into my mouth and I swallow every drop, sucking him dry. “I fucking love you. Go freshen up. I’ll go get drinks.” He kisses me lazily and smacks my ass.

  I love this man. All of him. Even the fucked up parts of him. He’s mine.

  Chapter Thirty

  Striker

  Walking out, I have the biggest smile on my face after I just fucked Daria into next week. My balls still hurt like a fucking bitch, but damn, it was worth it. I don't think anything will wipe the smile away.

  “Beer and a gin and tonic, Blair.”

  “How the hell do you guys not have a bunch of mini mes running around with all that fucking you do?” Blaze mutters, shaking his head and drinking his beer.

  “None of your damn business.”

  “Seriously though, bro. I know you. You can't blame a brother for being curious to know your secret.” He holds his hands up.

  “There are forms of contraception, Blaze,” Daria says, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Sure.” The way these two are looking at each other, it's like they have some sort of secret between them.

  “What exactly are you getting at?” I snap, slamming my beer down and making Daria jump.

  “Nothing.”

  “Come on, baby. Let's go practice making future babies.” Daria tries t
o pull at my arm, but Blaze's sniggering stops me.

  “If you have a problem then spill.”

  “He's just jealous, Striker.” Daria again pulls at my arm. Wrenching my arm out of her grasp, she stumbles a little.

  “She's my problem.” He points to Daria, whose eyes are wide open, looking at him. “Ever since her and that brat of hers came back into your life, you've gone soft.”

  I reach into my pocket, pull out my carving knife, and press it against his neck, right at the jugular. “Don't you dare speak about my daughter and old lady like that.”

  “Please, Striker. Come on.” Daria pulls at my bicep to free Blaze from my grasp.

  “Go on, tell him. Tell him why you never bleed like most women do. Tell him why you aren't pregnant yet with his next kid.” Blaze goads Daria.

  Thoughts come into my head; first, why the hell would he know anything about Daria’s medical history? Second, it's been a few months now and I've never heard her say she had cramps or stopped me from fucking her because she was on her period. It's true, we fuck like there's no tomorrow, but that just means the contraception is working. Right? Looking to Daria, I see tears falling thick and fast.

  “How the fuck would you know anything about her?”

  “Ask her.”

  “What does he mean? What's he talking about?” I ask her, hoping that he is, in fact, just jealous and trying to come between us. But the way she's looking down, I know there's something she's keeping from me.

  “Please. Let's go talk.” She sniffs.

  “Tell me now, Dee.” I growl.

  “In private.” She looks around at everyone standing staring at the scene. “Please.”

  She looks at me with big brown eyes, but it doesn't work for me this time. “No. Tell me now. Tell me what Blaze seems to know that I don’t.”

  Tears spill down her face and she looks to Blaze and snaps, going for him like a lioness going for prey.

  “You asshole. You told me he had a whore working his bed and that he wouldn't want seconds with me when I was coming to tell him I was fucking pregnant!” she screams, writhing in my arms trying to get to him. “I was coming to tell him I was pregnant and you fucking stopped me. You stopped him from getting to know his daughter! Now he'll never get that chance again.” She pushes my hands away from her and runs. “Get your hands off me.”

  White hot anger flows through me when I lay my eyes on a petrified-looking Blaze.

  “Strike, I only had your best interests at heart.” He holds his hands out in front of him pleading with his eyes. “You were just shy of twenty-one. You shouldn't have been shackled down with a kid at that age. I told her you wouldn't want a whore like her, or her little brat. You were busy fucking everything.”

  He says it like he did me a favor. I stalk towards him until he hits a wall. I go to grab him by the throat, but he's ready for me and punches me in the stomach, winding me, trying to get away from me. Taking a knife from the holder on my leg, I throw it, hitting the back of his knee. He screams out in pain, falling to the ground.

  “Please, Striker.” He shuffles back, leaving a trail of blood behind. I climb on top of him, holding the knife in my right hand. My knees hold his arms at either side of him so he can't move. The only people here are the whores and wives who wouldn't dare get in the middle of my business.

  “Strike one; you stop me from knowing about my daughter.” I slice my knife slowly down the left side of his face. He screams out in pain as the crimson blood drips down his face. The metallic smell speeds up my heartbeat.

  “Strike two; you talk to Daria like she's a whore.” The blade slices down his face to his neck. My heart races at the rush of adrenaline running through my veins.

  “Strike three…” I press the sharp edge to his jugular, just enough pressure to cause pain but not enough to cut through. Yet. “Strike three; you interfere with my life over and over again thinking I'm going to fucking like you. You're nothing but a liability to this club. You fuck up at every turn.” Pressing harder, I lean in. “You tried to fuck my old lady two days ago.” He shakes his head violently, denying what I saw on the security camera when Blair came to me to tell me what he saw. I had to make sure he was telling me the truth before I confronted her. I was going to in the gym today but she blindsided me.

  “No, Striker. I was trying to make you see that she's no good for you. She's a whore. A damaged fucking whore.” I let out an animalistic roar. As I’m about to slice the knife across his throat, cutting the jugular, someone knocks me off the prick. Pushing whoever it was off me, I go for him again, completely lost in anger, driving the blade into his side.

  “STRIKER!” I'm lost in all thoughts of plunging my knife into this asshole. I don't hear the screams of the whores and wives.

  “Get the fuck off me!” I struggle against the four brothers pulling me back. They drag me towards Dad's office.

  “What in the blue hell have you done?” Dad screams, pacing back and forward. “You damn near killed my best friend’s nephew. One of our own!”

  “He fucking deserved it!” I stand, wanting to leave this place to find Daria. She could be anywhere.

  “Where the fuck do you think you're going?” Dad's voice booms, grabbing my arm which I quickly snatch out of his grasp.

  “I'm going to find my woman.” I storm past everyone crowding around Blaze who’s bleeding out everywhere. I hear my dad shout me to get back; he isn’t finished with me yet.

  I need to find Daria.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Daria

  “Grandpa, I need you here. Why did you have to leave me? I need you to tell me to stop being such a cry baby and pull my big girl pants up and tell Striker everything.” Thick tears fall down my cheeks as my finger dances across him name on his gravestone. I can hear him now, 'You sit that boy down and you tell him everything that happened.'

  “Daria?” I'm too ashamed to look at him. “Daria, baby.” He places his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. Closing my eyes, I know he deserves to know everything.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Yeah, I think we do.” He voice is low and so unlike Striker.

  We walk towards the bench opposite Grandpa's grave, staring ahead, focusing on the headstone.

  “I need you to stay quiet the whole time I'm talking, otherwise I won't be able to.” He doesn't say a word. Again, another unlikely Striker action. Breathing in a cleansing lung full of air, I try to think back on my past. A past I wanted so badly to forget.

  “When I found out I was pregnant with Emily, I was scared. It wasn't in my plan to sleep with a biker and get pregnant by him.” Laughing a little, I sneak a glance at him. I catch a glimpse of a smug smile pull at his lips. “No. I was Mayor Denver's daughter. My life was mapped out to my last breath. I was to go to college, get a degree in law, join the top lawyer firm in the state and marry someone of my mom-” Stopping to correct myself. “Denise's choice.” Sighing, I continue. “Grandpa was sad I was marrying out of convenience rather than love. He refused to attend the wedding.” I close my eyes.

  “He said he understood that we shouldn't have child out of wedlock, but he never wanted me to marry for anything other than love. He knew Emily wasn't Jake's from the day I told him I was pregnant. I can hear him now; you think I'm stupid? That baby isn't that young man's. How he knew, I don't know, but he knew.” Laughing, I shake my head. “On the last day of school, I drove to the clubhouse. I had all intentions of telling you, but some guy told me to leave. I insisted I needed to talk to you; I had something important to tell you. He proceeded to tell me you had a pussy for every night of the year on rotation, you didn't need some little girl hanging around like a lost puppy.” Even now, hearing he had a girl for every night hurts.

  “Blaze?” I nod. “Son of a bitch. I should’ve killed the bastard.”

  “I drove away. I honestly never felt my heart break before until that day. I cried myself to sleep for the next t
wo weeks, blaming it on the hormones and fear of having a baby. How could I mourn a love for someone I hardly knew?

  “Fast forward to when Emily was three. Jake and I talked and decided we would at least try to make it work between us so we started trying for a baby of our own. Three months it took for us to conceive. I was excited to tell Jake that we were pregnant, but I wanted to do it when he was home from business. Jess came to my doctor’s appointment to confirm. She was just as excited. She couldn't wait to play dress up again. I started to feel really dizzy while at work. I didn't think anything of it because I knew I was pregnant and I was the same with Emily the first few weeks. Jake's dad sent me home. I just couldn't relax, something was off.” Swallowing when I think back on that day, a tear drips off my chin. “I decided to go for a lie down. Emily was at Jake’s dads for a sleepover. She was so excited about it and couldn't wait to spend time with Pop-Pop alone. Pain sliced through my side like a knife through butter. I felt cold, and the pain wouldn't go. I went to the bathroom to get some pain meds. That's when I felt dampness. I was terrified. I saw blood. I reached for my cell and called Jess. I told her everything and she was there in a flash. We went to the hospital but the pain wasn't subsiding, even with pain medication. They scanned me. Turns out I had an ectopic pregnancy that had ruptured.” Sniffing, I wipe my nose with the back of my sleeve. “I had emergency surgery to remove one of my ovaries and fallopian tubes, cutting my chances of ever having any more kids in half.” Sighing, I continue. “That's why Blaze said I'm damaged goods, Striker.”

  “But how did Blaze know all of this?”

  “At the hospital, when I was beaten and stabbed, I woke to find him looking at my notes at the foot of my bed.” She closes her eyes and looks up to the sky. “There’s something else you should know.” I stay silent for a beat, taking his hands in mine. “I found out I was pregnant the morning of the attack.” A hot, thick tear trickles down my face. He takes his hands away from me.