No. I shake my head fast, and black spots appear in front of me. I find it hard to breathe.
“Blaze wouldn’t.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “He wouldn’t risk it.”
“Oh, Daria. Sweet, naive Daria. You really think he gives a shit? He almost lost everything because of you. He would love to see you and Striker fall.”
My eyes flutter closed and I take a shaky breath, “Please, Brad. What do you want?”
His face contorts into something unholy, “I want you dead, and that asshole and his club behind bars.”
I look to where my cell is and try to edge closer to it.
“I wouldn't.” He points his gun at me.
“What if I can give you some intel on the club?” I try to bargain with him.
He turns, pacing in front of Cobra's dead body.
Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Cobra.
I reach behind me and put a knife in my waistband. I just need to get to my cell. I edge closer. “Please, Brad. You know I'm good for it now. I have Striker right where I need him. He's obsessed with me, and he tells me everything.”
He stops pacing and looks at me. He tilts his head, regarding me. “You wouldn't lie to me now, would you?” His eyes are almost closed as they narrow further. “Because I know what school your precious daughter goes to, and I know every move your whole family makes. I can wipe them out with one phone call.”
“Please, my family mean more to me than that asshole.” I edge ever closer to my goal of getting my cell and calling Striker.
He looks down at Cobra. “It’s a shame. I liked this one. Him and that young one that looks after Emily.”
Blair.
I snatch my cell and try to make a run for it while pressing buttons on the keypad to call Striker. I need to get to Emily.
“You stupid bitch.”
He grabs my hair, pulling me back and slamming me against the wall. My cell slips from my grasp, falling to the floor with a bounce. He backhands me across the cheek then grabs my jaw, squeezing at a bruising force, making me look at him.
“Now, why did you go and try something like that? Huh? We were getting along just fine until then. Like old times.” He spits in my face.
“You fucking disgust me.”
“You weren't saying that when I was fucking you.” His hand that was holding my jaw travels down my neck, towards my breasts, and squeezes painfully.
“I was thinking about Striker the whole damn time.” He presses the gun to my stomach. I reach around to the knife in my waistband, wrapping my fingers around the handle.
“You really don't want this fucking kid, do you?”
“I protect my kids.”
I drive the knife into his side. He stumbles back and pulls the blade out, dropping it with a clatter on the floor, blood pouring from him. He tries to lift the gun, but he collapses to the ground like a sack of potatoes; the gun goes off, and I fall to the ground, the air leaving my body from a breath I had no idea I was holding.
My legs feel like Jell-O. I can't get them to move, to get up and run to Emily. I need to move. I have no idea how long I’ve sat here, staring at his body bleeding out in front of me, in my house.
I finally get my body to move and crawl on all fours to get to my cell. I press call on the smashed screen when a hand grabs my ankle; I turn to see Brad sneering at me like a rabid dog, blood dripping from his mouth. He crawls up my body, his blood dripping onto my face when he's above me. I struggle against him. I glance to my right and see the knife I used to stab his side. I reach for it, but it's just a fingertip away. I move slightly and manage to grab it.
Brad's hands wrap around my neck and squeeze as hard as he can. He played me by pretending to be weak because this is not the strength of a weak man. I plunge the knife into the side of his neck and twist it. More blood drips onto my face. I completely lose it as all thoughts of all the people that have abandoned me, hurt me, or taken advantage of me come unbidding in my mind. I drive the knife over and over into his neck, thinking about Dad abandoning me when I was pregnant with Emily. Denise being a super bitch and controlling me. Brad and those other thugs that beat me, causing my miscarriage. And Striker holding a knife to my neck, strangling me. The final person to enter my mind is one that I have tried to forget for over fourteen years. He’s the biggest one that has caused all my trust issues with not only men, but of people in general.
One final plunge of the knife in his neck, and a gasp leaves his throat with a gargle. His hands release me and his whole body goes limp on top of me, his blood pouring all over me. My heart beats faster, my chest heavy, but I push his lifeless body off and he falls with a thud beside me. I muster all my energy, trying to press myself up and push back towards a wall, leaving a long trail of blood in my wake, hoping the wall will swallow me and take me away. My eyes fix on Brad's body bleeding out on my hallway floor. I feel like I'm in a horror movie. I hold my trembling hands in front of my face; they're red, bloodstained. I’m covered in his blood.
My eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall. I'm vaguely aware of muffled footsteps and voices. The adrenaline that got me through the whole ordeal leaves my body, and I start to shake uncontrollably, wrapping my arms around my stomach.
My heartbeat thrashes in my ears, the pain in my chest and lungs increasing the longer I sit here, my eyes refusing to blink. I'm too scared to blink in case he jumps up and kills me once and for all and goes for Emily.
I struggle to get air into my lungs, gasping for breath before it all goes black.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Striker
I drive to the clubhouse to celebrate the news that we're having a baby boy with all my closest friends and brothers. I can't wipe the smile off my face. I can't believe we're having a boy. I would have been just as happy if the baby was a girl, but damn, I'm ecstatic that I won't be going to jail for two daughters and a wife. Instead, I'll be beating up guys that touch just one daughter.
“Well?” Fran rushes at me, along with Hannah, one of the new whores. If I'm honest, she doesn't belong here, whoring herself out, and I know Daria hates seeing her here too. She's too young.
“Baby boy.” I grin widely at her. Fran squeals and hugs me. Hannah looks hesitant to hug me, so I pull her to me and hug her like I would with Emily.
“Thank God for that.” Chucky chortles, clapping my back and shaking my hand.
“Our thoughts exactly.” Dad chuckles. “We have enough on our hands with Daria alone.”
“Hey, that's my sister.”
“You gonna argue that fact?”
“No. She's the reason I found grey hair the other day.” Nico shakes his head. “She keeps life exciting, that's for sure.”
We all order drinks, and Dad raises his beer, looking towards me. “To my son and my future daughter-in-law.” He lifts a questioning eyebrow, and I shrug. I plan on asking her, but I want to get our baby here safely first. That's my main priority right now.
“Thank you for giving me another reason to live and another person to give a large chunk of my heart to. My grandson. You will be loved and protected all your life.”
***
We've been drinking for an hour and the guys are all in good spirits, though some are a little worse for wear.
“I'm so damn proud of you, son. Look how far you've come. You're like this whole different person. You're a man. A family man. I honestly never thought I would see you this happy.”
“Thanks, Pop.”
“I thought I'd be burying you beside your mom before your twenty-first birthday.” A cloud of sadness flashes across his eyes. “That's why I’m so hard on you, Striker. I needed you to stay alive. It would kill me to have to bury you too.”
“Pops, I'm not going anywhere. I have so much to live for, and I'm not an angry teenager now. Daria is my life. Her, Emily, the new baby. They're all I live for now. I thank God every day that she didn't give up on me.”
“She loves you, son. Took you a while and for her to nearly di
e to realize that.”
“Yeah,” I snigger. “Thank fuck she pulled through.”
Dad laughs along with me.
After chatting with Dad, Nico challenged me to a game of pool, and I'm kicking his ass. At least I can beat one of the siblings at something. Sure as hell can't beat Daria at bowling, even when she's pregnant.
My cell rings. Pulling it out of my pocket, I see Daria's name flash up. A wide smile spreads across my face.
“Daria sending you nudes again, Striker?” Louis shouts across the room just as Nico was about to take a shot. A couple of others whoop and laugh. “She's even more fuckable pregnant.”
“Stop talking about my sister like that!” Nico slaps his hand on the pool table. I know Louis only says these things to torment Nico.
I laugh when Louis hightails it, hiding behind Dad like he's going to save him. Hell, he'd join Nico in pummeling him for all the comments about Daria.
“Hey, baby.” Silence. “Daria?” Again, nothing.
“What did Daria want?” Nico asks.
“His dick.”
“Louis, shut your mouth!” Chucky shouts.
“She must have dialed me by mistake.” I shake my head, continuing the game. Ten minutes later, my cell goes off again. It’s Daria again.
“Baby?” I ask. Silence again. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. “Daria, answer me.” I can feel Nico's eyes on me. “Daria, for fuck’s sake, answer me!” I hang up.
“What's up?”
“That's the second time she's called me and not answered me. Something doesn't feel right.”
“I'll call Cobra, get him to check on her.” Nico pulls his cell out and dials. “He's not answering.”
“I'm going home. Something’s off.”
We walk out towards our bikes, only to be stopped by Fran. “You boys are not getting on those bikes. You've had way too much to drink.”
“I'll drive you.” Chucky says as he joins us.
***
We get out, followed by Chucky, and I see a strange car parked outside.
The front door is wide open, blood on the front porch, and Cobra’s book abandoned. I look to Nico, who I think is thinking the same as me and getting flashbacks of two years ago. I sprint in and see spots of blood. I draw my gun and that’s when I see Daria slumped in the corner of the hallway, covered in blood, her hands covering her head, rocking back and forth.
Emily!
“Nico, Emily.” I look to him and he doesn’t hesitate to run up to see if Emily is okay.
“Daria. Daria, baby.” I sprint towards her, kneeling beside her. Her head lifts, staring at me, but not seeing me. Her whole face is covered in dry blood. She looks like the girl from that horror movie that gets covered in blood at her prom; Carrie. She's trying to push farther into the wall to get away from me. “Babe, it's me.” My hand moves to her face and she leans into it. She grabs my shirt, pulling me to her, touching me as if to make sure I'm real and right in front of her.
“S-Striker.” Tears fill her hazel eyes. “Oh, God, Striker.”
“Oh, shit,” Nico says quietly, coming back down the stairs. I look up at him, thinking something has happened to Emily. I follow his eyeline and see a body lying in a pool of blood. Brad. I turn back to Daria.
“I killed him,” Daria whispers. “I killed him.”
“Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Emily?”
She’s still grabbing at me, burying her head further into my chest.
“Baby, did he hurt you?” I peel her away from me. “Daria, you have to answer me! Did he hurt you?”
“No. I stabbed him before he got the chance.” She swallows. “Oh, God, Emily.”
“Emily’s fine. She’s fast asleep,” Nico reassures her.
“Can you stand?”
She nods. I help her up.
“Cobra. He killed Cobra. He shot him in the head.” She starts to hyperventilate and her whole body trembles.
Nico looks over into our kitchen and tips his head back. He shakes his head, rubbing his face. Shit. Cobra was the closest person he had to a father figure growing up after my dad.
“I'm taking you to the hospital to get checked out,” I say, wanting no arguments. “Call Dad. Get him over here,” I tell Chucky as I lead Daria upstairs to run her a bath. She can’t go to the hospital like this.
I sat silently on the side of the bath and washed her clean of blood. She didn't say much since she uttered the words that she killed Brad. I helped her get dried and into her pajamas and tied her hair back. Thank God Emily taught me how to do plaits. I lay with her on the bed until she fell asleep curled up into my side and I’ve been here holding her ever since. I refuse to leave her.
There's a knock at the door, and Nico peeks in. “Your dad wants to speak to you.”
I peel myself from Daria and walk out of the door with one last look at her.
“How's she doing?”
“I don't know. I think she's in shock.”
“Killing a man will do that.”
We walk down and see Dad standing over the shithead detective. “How's Daria? Is she hurt?”
“She's fine physically. She’s sleeping just now. I'm taking her to the hospital to get the baby checked out first thing tomorrow. Mentally, I have no idea.”
“Well, she has done a number on him. I'm damn proud of her.”
“She shouldn't have had to do that. She's not meant for this side of our world, Dad.” I inspect the knife wounds. Shit, Dad's right. She did a fucking amazing job.
“I know, son.”
“I'm sorry about Cobra, Dad.”
“Yeah. I'll call his sister and let her know.” He sighs. “He died doing what he always promised to do. Protecting you and now Daria to the death.”
“Me?”
“Cobra has known you all your life, Striker. He promised me from the day you were born he would protect you from everything and everyone.” He smirks at me. “That's why I put him on Daria when you were apart. I knew I could trust him to protect you both.”
“Sheen is on his way.” Chucky walks in after putting a call to Sheen, the guy we call to clean up kills. I want this all gone before Daria wakes up.
“I'll clean it.” We all look to the stairs to see Daria.
“Go back to bed, baby.” I advance towards her.
“I'll get the bleach.” She walks past me.
“Dee, we have someone coming to clean it up.” Nico takes her hand. She jumps back, not wanting to be touched.
“It's my damn house. I'll clean it myself.”
Nico looks over at me when Daria walks to the kitchen to get the cleaning stuff.
“I'm gonna call Mom and Pop.” He pulls his cell out and calls Nicholas and Lauren because I'm at a loss for what to do.
“Baby.” I place my hands on her shoulders and she moves away from my touch. “We have someone who specializes in this. Getting rid of evidence is what he does.”
“It's my house. I can clean it myself.”
“Babe, I don't want you cleaning up the blood. You're pregnant and you’re supposed to be resting.”
“I'm pregnant, not an invalid. I’ll do what I damn well want.”
“Daria, please. Just listen to me. We need to talk about what happened.”
“I killed a psychotic asshole that broke in, killed Cobra, and tried to kill my unborn child and me! What else is there to talk about?” Her hazel eyes are blazing with fury.
“You what?”
Turning, I see Nicholas, his face beet red with rage, looking at me.
“Sweetheart.” Lauren makes a beeline for Daria, touching her face and checking her over. “I knew I should have stayed here until Striker came home.”
“And what good would that have done, Lauren? He could have killed all three of you. And if Striker was here, what good would he be? He's drunk.” Nicholas looks me up and down like I’m nothing.
I look down, knowing he’s right.
“Nick.” Lauren must have noti
ce my dipped mood.
“No, Lauren. I've tried. I've tried so fucking much to give him the benefit of the doubt, but he keeps proving me right.”
“Pops.” Nico walks in. “This isn't on Striker.”
“He should have been here. He should have been here to protect his pregnant girlfriend and his kids.”
“Nicholas, Daria told him to go. We all saw her.” Lauren tries to calm Nicholas.
“He should have told her he was staying.”
“You realize this is our daughter, right? She doesn't like being told what to do!”
“I do realize that, Lauren. I brought her up on my own for eight years.” My jaw drops that he would throw that back in her face.
“Yeah, and then you let that bitch into her life to do and say all those awful things to her.”
“Pumpkin.” Nicholas ignores Lauren and everyone else in the room. He places his hand on her cheek and Daria looks up at him. “Let's go.”
“No, Dad. I'm staying here.” She shakes her head but looks at him like she's a little girl about to get into trouble.
“I said, let's go. That's the end of it.”
“But, Dad…”
What the fuck is happening?
“Daria Danika Denver, I said we're leaving. Now, do as you are told and move,” he shouts at her; I can feel my temper about to blow.
“Pops?” Nico tries to step in, but Nicholas gives him a hard look which makes him stop.
“Nicholas, come on. She's twenty-nine-years old,” Lauren says.
“Yeah, and she's still my fucking daughter. I'll keep her safe, away from this asshole. Just like I should have done twelve years ago.” His lips curl in disgust as he looks up at me.
“Keep your damn voice down. My daughter is asleep up the stairs!” I snap at him. The last thing I need is Emily waking up and seeing two dead bodies lying in the house.
“Dad, its Daria's choice,” Nico says. He's called him Dad for the first time; it's always been Pops since Nicholas and Lauren got together.
Nothing Else Matters (Demons Disciples MC Book 2) Page 20
