“No, it's my choice. She's my daughter, and she will do as she's told. She's coming home with me. She and Emily will be staying with me until they both feel safe to come back. When he's moved out.” He looks me dead in the eye. “You stay the hell away from my daughter and grandkids.”
“Nicholas...” Lauren tries to stop him again.
“Lauren, this is not up for discussion. There's been nothing but trouble since this delinquent came into her life!”
“Dad…”
He ignores Nico and Lauren trying to stop him. He holds Daria close to him, walking out past Brad's body. I can't do anything. I just watch him take Daria away from me. She looks back at me, begging me with her eyes to come and get her, to help her. But I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot because he’s right. I’ve caused her nothing but heartache since coming back into her life.
“Dad, this isn't Striker’s doing! You know it's not. If anyone is to blame, it's that fucker lying on the floor. You saw her in the hospital! Saw what he did to her.”
“Yeah, and look what he's done to her! He’s made her into a fucking killer! Do you have any idea how long she'll go to prison? She won't see this baby grow up. She’ll only see him behind a goddamn Perspex screen!” Nicholas whisper yells. I swear if he wakes Emily up, there will be another dead body. “Let's go, pumpkin.”
“No,” she says.
“Yes.”
“No. I'm a grown woman.”
“I don't give a shit. You will be staying with me, even if I have to drag you there myself.” His hand wraps around her bicep, and he drags her out.
You said you would fight to the death for her. Even if it was her father.
I'm about to fly at him, but Dad stops me.
“Son, leave it.”
“But-”
“Striker, leave it.” I'm shocked at Dad not allowing me to go any further. He's one of the ones that pushed me to get my head out of my ass and get her back.
“No, Dad. Please. I want to stay here,” Daria says.
“You're coming with me, and you will be resting until this baby comes.”
Daria stops dead. “Stop.”
“Daria, move.”
“Stop telling me what to do!” She raises her voice.
“I'm your father, and you do as I say.”
“Stop trying to control me! I'm not a kid anymore! You can't tell me to do anything!” She pulls her hand back and slaps him across the cheek. I see Lauren flinch at the ferociousness of the slap from the corner of my eye. Yeah, I’ve been on the receiving end of her slaps; they’re not fun. “You're like Denise. You can't control me. I'm staying here because I love Striker. I killed a man tonight, Dad. I stabbed that asshole multiple times, and do you know what? I don’t regret a damn thing. He almost killed me, and he killed my baby.” She looks over at me. “He drove that knife into my stomach and killed our baby. I will not be ashamed that I killed him.”
“Pumpkin.” Nicholas tries to take her in his arms, but she pushes him away and walks towards the stairs.
“I'll go.” Lauren follows her, giving Nicolas a stern look.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Nico’s the first to snap.
“A father's love,” Dad whispers, somehow understanding what the hell we just witnessed.
“As soon as Nico called saying she was acting strange and explained the situation. I knew she was just bubbling under the surface. The more Daria bubbles, the bigger the blowout will be, and the consequences would be catastrophic for everyone. Especially you, Striker.” Nicholas looks at me, Daria's handprint prominent on his cheek. “She would end up blaming you and resenting you. I couldn't watch her do that, and I couldn't watch her hit the self-destruct button. I can see she loves you, and you love her just as much as I do. You've proved that tonight by not beating me up for the way I spoke to her.”
“I was close.”
“I know, but I had to do this.” His cheeks puff out, blowing out a breath. “I can live with her hating me for a bit until she's ready for me to explain why I did it. I have Lauren to add to the hating me list too.”
“Mom will forgive you quicker than Daria, Dad,” Nico says.
“Dad? Not Pops?” Nicholas looks at Nico.
“Yeah. You've been more of a dad to me the past year than my own dad has in the thirty-four years I’ve been on this planet.”
“Well, I'm proud to call you my son.” He turns to look at me. “When are you asking my daughter to marry you?”
Just like that, I'm speechless. Again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Daria
After everything that happened last month with me killing Brad, amongst other things, Striker has stayed with me twenty-four-seven. If he’s not here, then it’s Nico. Neither of them trusts anyone else to stay with me. Jess has been coming over more often too, trying her best to cheer me up like she always does. It works until she leaves, then all the thoughts come screeching back.
Dad came by the night after I killed Brad to explain why he had tried to take me away from Striker and this house. I get it, and I apologized for slapping him. After I slapped him, I ran up to Emily’s room and held her in my arms with Lauren behind me. Emily stirred a little, but then she settled back down. I have no idea how she managed to sleep through all the commotion that was happening downstairs, but she did. Thank God she did, because I don’t know how I would have coped if she had seen Brad lying there.
As soon as I know Striker is asleep at night, I get up and just sit in the same exact spot he found me that night. My eyes never leave the spot where his lifeless body lay, his cold blue eyes staring at me.
I don’t think I’ve had a full night’s sleep since it happened. Every time I close my eyes, he’s there in front of me, face covered in blood. No matter how many times I shoot at him or stab him, anything to kill him, he just won’t die and keeps coming at me.
He'll never leave me, even in death.
I’ve, until recently, avoided going anywhere with crowds or family functions. I missed Barron’s birthday party because I just couldn’t face it. Every time I think of going outside, my legs go weak and I get a pain in my chest. I don’t feel like I have the right to be happy or to live my life as normal, because he can’t. I took Brad’s life, so why should I have a happy life when he’s buried in the cold dirt six feet under? His family is without a brother and uncle. I did that. I bestowed that grief upon their lives. They may not have known why he died or who killed him, but I do. That’s a guilt I have to carry with me for the rest of my life.
He used you, he tried to kill you first, and he’s an asshole. That doesn’t mean he deserved to die.
I hate myself for losing it like that, but I was in fight or flight mode. It was kill or be killed. I chose to kill and save my unborn son’s life.
I spot a red stain on the carpet at the doorway where Brad died. Tears burn my eyes. I stand, making my way to the kitchen to fill a basin of water and cleaning detergent and get down on my hands and knees, trying to scrub the stain out. I’m sweating like a bitch in heat as I scrub for another hour. I throw the cleaning brush into the basin of water, the stain still prominent on the carpet. I sigh in defeat but then an idea pops into my head.
I stand with a groan and start pulling up the carpet. I grunt as I tug it. I need to get rid of this thing.
“What the hell are you doing?” I don’t need to look up to know Striker will be fuming. I continue to pull, trying to get rid of all evidence that I killed a man.
“Daria, what the hell?”
“There was a mark, a bloodstain that wouldn’t budge. I’ve been scrubbing it all morning, and it won’t disappear.” I continue pulling at the carpet.
“You’re eight months pregnant and supposed to be resting. You shouldn’t be doing things like this.”
“Oh, man.” Nico sighs, knowing I’ll be pissed at that comment. Usually, I would be, but I’m too exhausted and have too much going on in my head to even think of blowing up at him for
that.
“I’m pregnant. I can still do things around the house.”
“Let me and Nico deal with this. You go have a bath and relax,” Striker suggests, kissing my head.
“You should join me.”
“Excuse me, big brother in the room.” Nico coughs.
“Pity,” I sigh, glancing at him. “I need to…”
“You need to do as the doctor has told you and what I’m telling you to do and relax.”
“Fine.” I groan and walk away, leaving them to lift the carpet.
How can I relax with everything that’s going on in my head?
***
“Come on, sweetheart. You can't just stay in the house. Let's go grab some lunch.” Lauren has come by every day since the whole Brad thing, and more so since Nico and Striker told her about me trying to lift the carpet.
“Lauren, I'm eight months pregnant. I'm tired, and my feet are… well, I have no idea because I can't see them.” My eyes burn with unshed tears. “For God's sake. Why am I crying over not seeing my feet? This is ridiculous.” I wipe my eyes. “Besides, I’m supposed to be on bed rest.”
“Daria, baby. Come on. Make the most of the time you have before baby comes,” Striker pipes up.
I try to sit up. “You and your magic, super-duper sperm!” I continue to struggle. “A little help?”
Lauren and Striker rush over to me.
“Lunch? My treat?” Lauren says. I look at her. She's pleading with her eyes, and I can't seem to say no.
“Fine.” I look to Striker. “Keep your cell on.”
“Always,”
***
“You doing okay, sweetheart?” Lauren asks me when we sit down for some lunch. To be honest, I don’t feel all that comfortable being out of the safety of the confines of my house and with Striker. I know Blair is here, and I do feel a little safe with him, but it’s not the same as having Striker, or even Nico around to make me feel protected and keep me calm. Someone drops a cup, making a loud smash. My heart stops as I jump.
“To be honest, I just want to go,” I say.
“Okay, well, we’ll get the food to go and take it back to your place. We can chat.”
“I'd like that.” Since getting to know her and understanding why she gave me up, I'm glad I found her and finally have a loving mom I can go to for advice. I’m still getting used to it, but I know she’ll always be there for me no matter what.
After getting our food, we’re walking to the front of the café when I hear a familiar voice that has me stopping in my tracks.
“Daria?” No, I’m hearing things. It can’t be. “Daria, sweetie.” Slowly pivoting, my eyes blur when they land on the owner of the voice. “So lovely to see you again.”
“Daria, sweetheart? Are you okay? You've gone pale.” Lauren grips my arm when I sway a little. I grab her hand, trying to draw some sort of strength from her. “I'm going to call Striker.”
“What happened to Jake?”
“Jake and I divorced last year.” My voice is emotionless as I stare into Denise’s cold green eyes.
“Didn't waste time getting knocked up by another man, I see.” She looks me up and down like I'm some trash she just threw to the curb.
“Excuse me? Who the hell are you to question my daughter's life choices?” Lauren snaps, abandoning her cell and turning her attention to Denise.
“Lauren, leave it.”
“No. No one talks to my daughter like that and gets away with it.”
“Your daughter? You abandoned her when she was a baby and left her seventeen-year-old father to pick up the pieces.” She sneers at Lauren as she folds her arms over her plastic boobs that no doubt her divorce settlement paid for, along with all her Botox and other plastic surgery she looks like she’s had. If you put her in front of a fire, I’m sure she would melt like the Wicked Witch of the West. Just the thought makes me smile a little.
“How dare you? You abused my daughter for years and think I'm the one that placed the most damage onto her? You controlled every aspect of her life. I wish I had kept her, and then she wouldn't have had to grow up watching her weight and being told what to do, who to date, and who she was to marry by some plastic, stuck-up step-bitch.”
I'm rooted to the spot, watching the exchange. Everyone is starting to stare at the argument that has ensued in front of the café we were just in. I feel something pop. Shit. I cringe when I feel wetness running down my legs. No. Why now? It’s too early.
“Lauren?” I pull at her arm. She turns to me, her cheeks flushed red and her eyes hard until she reads my face.
“Daria, sweetheart.” Her arm goes around my waist, guiding me to a nearby bench. “Just breathe.” She starts breathing with me as I try to blow the pain away.
“Daria.” Looking up at Denise, I see a hint of concern. Where was this twelve years ago? “Is there anything I can do?” Mom glares at her as she's on her cell.
“Yeah, you can stay the hell away from me,” I manage to say through gritted teeth. This pain has come from nowhere, and it intensifies the longer I sit.
“Come on. We need to get you to the hospital.” Blair, who was with us, helps me to my feet along with Lauren, and we walk to the car.
“It’s too early. This isn’t happening.” I groan when a contraction hits, and I start panicking.
“Daria, honey, look at me.” Lauren tries to get me to slow my breathing. “Everything will be okay. Okay? Now, breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth.”
“I need Striker. I need him here with me,” I cry out, climbing into the back.
“Blair, get in the back. You stay with her. I'll drive,” Lauren demands.
Blair's whole face pales, but he nods.
“Blair, snap out of it. We need to get her to the hospital. Now!” Lauren says, her voice urgent.
“But… but, I can drive. You go in the back.”
“Blair, I need to drive. This is a rental and you’re not insured on it.”
“Guys, kind of have a baby trying to escape me way before his due date here,” I groan out while they discuss who’s driving.
“Okay, Blair, you sit behind her.” Lauren starts shooting off instructions as she climbs in the front, and we drive towards the hospital.
Oh, God. I need Striker.
“Lauren!”
“We're halfway there.”
“Ugh. Um... what are you doing?” Blair stutters.
I shimmy out of my leggings and underwear. “You act as if you’ve never seen a vagina before!” I grind out. I don't mean to; I just want my baby out safely.
“Yeah, but I’ve never seen a human come out of one, Dee.” Blair’s voice squeaks out, and he’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Well, there’s a first time for everything.” I groan, squeezing his hand when Lauren instructs Blair on how to examine me by placing his fingers in my vagina, feeling the cervix. She told me while we were in New York that she always wanted to be a midwife but couldn’t because of Ramon, so she gave up on her dream. She researched and self-taught herself the basics that she could find on the internet, but never went to college to get qualified.
“I... I don't think I can do this,” Blair says quietly. “I'm not comfortable with this, Daria.” He looks petrified, but I don't care.
I grab his shirt, pulling him down to me so we're face to face and his eyes grow impossibly wide.
“Blair, I don't give a fuck if you're comfortable or not. I'm not exactly feeling all that relaxed. I have a human coming out of me!” I scream as another contraction hits me.
“You don't have a choice.” Lauren tries to calm him.
“Suck it up!” I scream in his pale, scared face.
“Lauren, the baby’s coming,”
“Baby, we're almost there.” Just as Lauren says those words, she pulls up to the emergency entrance.
She parks the car and Blair exits the vehicle. He puts his hands under my legs and lifts me with ease into a wheelchair while Lau
ren tells the waiting nurse what happened, how many minutes the contractions are and how far apart they are.
“Argh!” I look at Blair’s bulging dark blue eyes and his chest moving up and down. I think I’ve scarred him for life. “I’m sorry, Blair. I didn’t mean to shout at you.” He nods, looking anywhere but at me. I grab his clammy hand and squeeze it, but I soon wish I hadn’t when another contraction hits, making me grip his hand harder. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Dee. The baby will be here soon,” Blair says, but I’m sure he wants to run away as far away from me as possible right now. Tears fill my eyes because he stays with me.
“Daria, baby?” Striker runs up to us, his hair all over the place like he’s been dragged through a hedge backwards. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I would laugh at his disheveled look. His eyes swing to the side to look at Blair, who is still standing by me and nods his acknowledgement.
Oh, God!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Striker
My cell rings for the third time during church. I look at Dad and he nods, allowing me to answer the call. I see Lauren's name flash up. A million things run through my head, and the first is Daria and the baby. Lauren took her for lunch. She’s started to withdraw into herself again the closer we get to the due date. Jess, Nicholas, Nico, nor I couldn’t, and still can’t, get her to talk about the Brad thing. She’s closed off from everything.
“Lauren?”
“Striker, you need to stop what you're doing and get to the hospital. Now.”
The urgency in her voice makes my blood run cold.
“What’s going on? What’s happened?” I now have all nine pairs of eyes staring at me, wondering what the hell is going on as I turn to grab my jacket. Dad catches my arm, his brows knitted together, clearly confused as hell.
“Daria’s gone in to labor.” That's when I hear a male voice and Daria screaming back at them.
“I'm not comfortable with this, Daria.”
“Blair, I don't give a fuck if you're comfortable or not. I'm not exactly feeling all that relaxed. I have a human coming out of me!”
“Striker, you need to hurry.”
Nothing Else Matters (Demons Disciples MC Book 2) Page 21
