Nothing Else Matters (Demons Disciples MC Book 2)

by Allana Walker

  “I can when they want to screw my wife.” He shrugs.

  “Striker, delete the comment.” I shake my head at his Neanderthal ways. I pick Evan up out of his highchair.

  “She's not your wife yet.” Emily sticks her tongue out at him, walking away with her cell.

  I can feel Striker's eyes burning the back of my head as I get Emily's snack and Evan’s bottles ready. We have a double date night with Jess and Nico tonight.

  “I don't want you doing those videos ever again.”

  I stop what I'm doing and stare at him, dumbfounded. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. You're not doing any more videos.”

  “Screw you, Striker. You don't control what I do.” I giggle thinking he’s joking, but I see the way he’s looking at me. He’s serious. “You’re seriously telling me I can’t do something?”

  “You're my woman.”

  “No. I'm my own person!” We're locked in a stare-off when Emily walks back in.

  “I'm ready, Dad.”

  “Have a good practice, princess.” I hand her a snack. “Grandpa will pick you up later.” Emily smiles and bounces out of the door; I give Striker a hard look and busy myself cleaning up. Asshole.

  ***

  Striker

  “Daria?” I shout when I walk in the front door from dropping Emily off at basketball practice. I thought I would come home and try to resolve this shit that’s been going on between Daria and me since the whole video dance thing this morning.

  “Daria?” I yell once again, because I know she's home. Her car is in the garage.

  I hear loud moaning and heavy breathing coming from up the stairs.

  No. She wouldn't. I know Austin is in town. Did she sneak him in for a quickie while I was gone? He seems to be her go to when we have a disagreement lately. I heard her on her cell to him last week when we had a little argument about how she was drinking too much during the day. It pissed me off. It should be me she comes to, not that fucker.

  One week ago

  I walk in the house after being at the garage all day. We’ve been backed up with work and I’ve been working non-stop, trying to keep all the jobs up to date as well as the usual MC business. I don’t get home until early hours in the morning. I can’t wait to hold Daria in my arms. I walk up to our room expecting to see her asleep, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Dee?” I walk to the bathroom, thinking she got up to use the toilet, but I come up empty. My heart rate increases. I peek in on Emily and Evan and see they’re both sound asleep. I check the spare room and see Hannah. Where’s Daria? I’m about to call Jess when I hear the front door opening and Daria giggling to herself. My feet carry me down in time to see her being helped into the house by Louis. I frown. Why was he with her?

  “Louis?” His head snaps up, his eyes clashing with mine.

  “Striker, I saw her in a bar I was picking my sister up at. She’s completely wasted. My sister helped me get her in the car,” he quickly explains. Daria looks up, her eyes half closed.

  “Oh, I think I’m in trouble,” she slurs as I take her in my arms. “Shhh, can’t tell Striker I’ve been drinking. He’ll be maaad.”

  You’re damn fucking right. I’m pissed.

  “Thanks, for bringing her home.” Louis looks hesitant to leave. “What?”

  “It’s just she said some things on the way here that didn’t make sense.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. I look at him to continue while Daria paws at me, trying to put her hand down my trousers in front of Louis. “She was muttering about doing something she didn’t want to do. That she had to apologize about what she had done. That was it. She started singing after that.” He shakes his head at the quick change of behavior she displayed to him. Yeah, welcome to my day to day life.

  “Thank you for letting me know, Louis.” He nods and leaves. I help her up to our room and strip her down to her underwear.

  “Mmm, alone at last.” Daria pulls my head down, her lips crashing to mine. I can taste the whiskey and vodka on her lips. I pull back. “Don’t you love me?”

  “Of course I do, Daria.”

  “Then why won’t you fuck me?”

  “Because you’re drunk,” I growl at her, my anger starting to take over at the constant drinking she’s been doing for weeks. It started with one glass in the afternoon once a week, but lately it’s progressed to every afternoon.

  “Hasn’t stopped you before.” She tries again to pull me to her. I turn my head to the side. “Fine, screw you.” She flops back, turning away from me.

  I sigh and strip down, climbing in behind her and kissing her shoulder.

  “I love you, baby.”

  I make my way upstairs slowly. There’s a loud cry of ecstasy then silence. A dull ache hits me in my stomach like a sucker punch, and I feel my heart begin to crack as I reach for the door handle.

  Do I want to open the door? Do I really want to see her fucking someone else?

  I will kill the fucker who thought it was a good idea to stick his dick in my woman's pussy.

  I push the door open with force. It bounces off the wall, causing Daria to squeal out in shock and surprise that someone is in the house.

  “Shit.” She almost falls off the bed. “Striker, Jesus Christ.” She stands to hold a sheet around her, covering herself, glaring at me.

  I start looking under the bed, in the closet, the en-suite. I storm up to her and grip her forearms, looking down into wide hazel eyes.

  “Where is he?”

  “W...what?” She stutters. “Who?”

  “Where the fuck is he, Dee?” My voice is louder.

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Where is Austin? I know you’ve been fucking!” I shout at her, making her jump.

  “Why would Austin be here?” She’s acting dumb right now. She fucking knows why he would be here.

  “Quit the bullshit, Daria! I heard you moaning!” I pull her closer to me, our chests touching.

  “Striker.” Tears start falling down her cheeks; it's the first time in a long time I’ve seen her this scared of me. I let her go and sit on the bed with my head in my hands.

  “Daria, just tell me where he is.” My voice is low still, with a hint of anger.

  “Here.”

  I muster up the courage to look up at her and this dickhead, who obviously has a death wish. She's standing in front of me, holding a vibrator. She throws it at me, hitting me in the head. She turns, stomping away and slams the bathroom door. I glare at my battery-operated rival dick and let out a groan of frustration. My elbows rest on my knees with my head in my hands, fingers in my hair, pulling hard. My gaze flicks towards the ceiling. Looking up, I rub my forehead before I stand to walk toward the bathroom and apologize.

  I knock on the door, but she doesn't answer. I hear the shower turn on.

  “Baby, come on. I'm sorry.” Still nothing after ten minutes. I knock harder and the door opens. She dips under my arm in nothing but her towel. I follow her to the closet. She drops the towel, giving me a show of her magnificent body.

  She bends over to put on a pair of flesh-colored stockings, a black lace thong, and a matching garter belt. Shit. My pants are getting tighter the more I stare. I can't say anything; no words come into my head apart from 'I want to fuck you.' She brushes past me. The skin to skin contact sends shivers down my spine, my breathing becoming deeper. I can't do anything or say anything. I'm numb and can only think of bending her over and slamming my cock into her.

  “Baby, please.” Still, she says nothing. This is getting fucking ridiculous. “Daria! I'm talking to you.” I spin her around.

  My chest tightens like someone has their arms around me, and my pulse quickens.” My nails bite into my palm. I step forward, bringing my hand to her cheek. “Please, baby, if there is something going on in your head, please tell me. You can talk to me. I want to help you, but I can’t if you won’t let me in.” My voice softens a little.

  She turns away from
me, and my hand falls. My anger returns tenfold.

  “Do you know what?” I bite my lip hard to stop myself short of saying what I was about to, because I know I would later regret it. Throwing my hands up, I back out of the room and out the door.

  I'm sick of this shit.

  I didn’t leave; I just had to walk away from her before I said or did something I would regret. I can’t keep up with her moods lately. I swear I’m getting whiplash with them. One minute she loves me and can’t get enough of me, the next she’s throwing a fit over something I did years ago, or accusing me of shit I haven’t done.

  I’ve sat down here for three hours, fighting with myself about whether to storm up there and have it out with her or let us both calm down. Calming down won. I don’t want another fight.

  I look up and see her standing in the doorway; she’s wearing a black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. I want to tell her to change, but I have a feeling she’s challenging me to say something, so I don’t. I went up to get changed and I felt her gaze on me the whole time.

  “Daria, I’m sorry. I heard you moaning and thought--”

  “I was actually trying to spice up our sex life, so you would jump on me, but you thought I was cheating. You haven’t touched me in two weeks Striker. Since my birthday.”

  “I’ve been late home every night, Dee. You’re exhausted. The last thing I want to do is wake you up for sex at two in the morning.” I try to explain myself, but she shakes her head.

  “Are you ready?” Her tone is less than pleased that she even has to be in the same room as me, let alone talk about our non-existent sex life. Sighing in defeat, I grab the car keys.

  “Let’s go.”

  The car ride to meet up with Nico and Jess at the restaurant was painfully silent. She’s about to open her door, but I reach over and stop her.

  “Daria, you need to tell me what’s going on, other than being sexually frustrated. You’ve been acting shitty to me for months. It’s gotten worse since Brad.” Her eyes widen, and she swallows when I mention his name.

  “I’m fine,” she snaps, climbing out and slamming the door for good measure. I sigh, watching her walk towards the restaurant.

  My heart aches thinking she’s going through shit she can’t share with me. She would rather drink or screw her problems away.

  I won’t give up on her. I’m never going to give up on her.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Daria

  When Striker walked in on me getting off with my vibrator, I thought it would have made him want to jump me, but it had the opposite effect. He thought I was cheating on him, with Austin of all people. The whole thing pisses me off. As if I would cheat on him.

  Can’t blame him, you haven’t been the easiest person to live with these past few months.

  He quickly catches up to me when I approach the door. He reaches around me and opens it like the gentleman he is. His hand comes to the small of my back, sending shockwaves up my spine as he guides me to the man at the front desk.

  “Welcome. Do you have a reservation?” He smiles down at me and then looks up at Striker.

  “Yes. Sanchez.” He nods, grabbing two menus, and leads us to where Jess and Nico are already waiting.

  “Are we having any wine?” the waiter asks us. Before I get a chance to say yes, Striker beats me to it.

  “No.” His tone is clipped and he’s glaring at me. “Water.”

  “Yes. I'll have a glass of red wine.” Striker grips the menu tighter. “Make it the bottle, please.”

  “I think you've drunk enough this week,” he whispers in my ear.

  I glare at him. Yet again, he’s trying to tell me what to do. He knows I don’t like it when he tries to do this.

  “Um... are you two okay?” Striker's the first to look away to answer Jess, who’s looking between us both, leaning in a little.

  “Fine.”

  “You sure?” Nico raises his eyebrow at me.

  “Actually, no.” I purse my lips in defiance. “No, we're not okay.” Striker's eyes bore into me. “What? You keep telling me I need to talk. What better time to do it than with my best friend and brother here?”

  “Daria,” he says, warning me against doing this in public.

  “Striker accused me of cheating on him.” I tilt my head, looking at him. The whole scenario plays again in my head. “He thought I was having sex with someone in our bed when I knew he would be home any minute from taking Emily to basketball practice. But, you wanna know the worst part? He thought I was with Austin.”

  Jess spits her water out. “Austin?”

  “Exactly.”

  “It's not like you haven't got previous with him,” Striker mutters through gritted teeth. His temper is hanging on by a thread.

  “Oh my God.” I groan out in frustration. “Why can't you just get over the fact I fucked him when I was sixteen? Fourteen years ago.” He stays silent. I can feel the tears building up. “You know what? I've lost my appetite. I'll see you guys later. Striker, don't bother coming home.” I throw the napkin down and walk out to find the nearest club to make the most of my freedom from my kids and asshole fiancé.

  You're running again.

  I don't give a shit; I'll run and run until I forget what happened.

  ***

  Striker

  It’s been three weeks since I accused Daria of cheating on me with Austin when I walked in on her getting off on her vibrator. I was shocked and a little put out seeing that fucking battery-operated dick. Am I not satisfying her enough?

  When she left the restaurant, Nico lay into me for accusing her of cheating, and I explained further about all her mood swings, the drinking, and just not being her usual self lately. Jess said she would try talking to her the morning after, but it didn’t happen. Daria had her coffee and left before they could get talking properly, saying she had to get stuff ready for the opening of the studio in a couple of months. Jess said she was acting weird and sniping at her.

  “Did you speak with Daria?” Nico asks when I sit down on the barstool, and he hands me a bottle of water.

  “No,” I take a pull of it. I glance at him, and he's looking at me like why not, idiot? “Every time I try or even mention talking, she jumps on me.”

  “You need to stop her fucking you and get her talking, man,” he snaps.

  “I've been trying for fucking weeks, Nico!”

  “Try harder!”

  “Fuck you!”

  “I'm not losing my sister because she won't fucking talk about killing a guy that tried to kill her and her unborn baby, not only once, but twice.” His eyes blaze with anger.

  “That’s unfair, Nico. You don’t have to watch her day in and day out slowly withdrawing into herself. On edge, inches away from pushing that self-destruct button once and for all. I don’t see you shouting the odds at Jess when she’s tried. Or your Mom, or Nicholas. Why are you always on my fucking case? Like it’s solely up to me?” I roar at him. “Do you really think I want to lose her? To tell our kids that Mommy killed herself because she couldn't cope with what she had done? To wake up every morning knowing I could have fucking protected her more, but instead, I was here, getting drunk with all of you?” I roar, my eyes boring into him. “I don’t want my kids to know what it's like to grow up without a mother, and I certainly don't want them to grow up knowing she killed herself and blame themselves the way I did!” I slam the bottle down hard, causing it to smash all over the bar. I turn and storm out. I need to calm myself before I fucking kill him, giving Daria more cause to withdraw into herself.

  She will talk to me, even if we have to lock her in a room again. She’s gonna talk one way or another.

  ***

  I suggested everyone come over to our house while Daria was out, to discuss what to do with her and how to help her through this, whatever it is.

  “I think we need to get Austin involved.” Jess speaks up from her position beside Nicholas. We all fall silent, staring at her. S
he looks around at all of us. “What? We need Jake, Austin, and Travis. They're the ones that can get her to talk.”

  “I can deal with my own fucking fiancée!” I snap, shutting down the idea of having that prick anywhere near her.

  “Austin, Jake, Travis, and I all grew up with Daria. We know how her mind works, and we all have different ways to get her to talk.” She swallows. “My way isn't working, and neither is Nicholas’ way. If I continue bugging her, I'll lose her for good, and I'm not prepared to do that.”

  “Son, I agree with Jessica.” Dad implores me with his eyes to push my stubborn jealousy aside for the sake of Daria and her mental state.

  I look at Jess’ glistening, worried eyes. I know she's petrified of losing her as much as any of us.

  “Fine, but one lusting look at Daria, and he's gone.”

  “He's smitten with Yazz.”

  “Didn't stop Daria when she was with Brad, did it?”

  Jess tips her head in frustration with me. “Daria was never smitten with Brad though, Striker.”

  “Do you trust Daria?” Nico tilts his head, regarding me with a look which says, choose your words wisely.

  “Of course I do. I don't trust him.”

  “My brother loves Daria. Always has. He would never come between you. That's how much he loves her,” Jess snaps. “He loves her enough to let her go and be happy, even if it means he’s miserable for the rest of his life.”

  “Don't give a shit. He tried it before, so I'll go by past experiences.”

  “I'm gonna give Dr. Fitzpatrick a call too.” Nicholas suggests, pulling out his cell and beginning to scroll for a number.

  I'm about to ask who this doctor is when Jess jumps up off her seat with fire in her eyes.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Calling that useless quack? Have you forgotten the shit he filled her head with under the instruction of that bitch stepmom?” I have never seen Jess so angry before, and I’ve been on the receiving end of some of her wrath. This is way worse. “He filled her head with so much shit, stuff that wasn't true, tearing her down so she would do what Denise said and believed it all. He can go fuck himself with a rusty pipe. He's going nowhere near Daria.”