Home > STRIKER (Lords of Carnage MC #11)

STRIKER (Lords of Carnage MC #11)
Author: Daphne Loveling

 

Prologue

 

 

Ember

 

 

I’ve had a lot of odd cases in my somewhat brief time as a lawyer.

But boy oh boy, this one takes the cake.

On paper, the clients sitting in front of me right now don’t seem all that different from the ones I usually get. A man and his girlfriend, who came to me because the man wants to get formal custody of his daughter.

The girlfriend is here because she wants to marry the man and adopt said daughter. But before that, the girlfriend needs to obtain a divorce from her husband — from whom she has been informally separated for more than two years.

Messy, yes. Complicated, sure. But I get complicated cases fairly often.

That’s not what makes this situation strange.

What makes it strange is that the man in front of me is a member of an outlaw motorcycle club.

As for the woman: her soon-to-be-ex-husband is a gangster.

And thus begins a very atypical work day in the offices of December Wells, Family Law Attorney.

A day, it turns out, that will change my life forever.

 

 

1

 

 

Ember

 

 

“So basically,” explains Cady, leaning back in her chair, “we have three separate but connected cases that we’d like you to be working on at the same time.”

The attractive dark blonde with deep brown eyes glances over at the long-haired, muscular man sitting next to her. The man hasn’t said much yet. So far, he just watches his girlfriend and lets her talk. The strong, silent type, I’m guessing.

Cady continues, enumerating on her fingers.

“First, we need to figure out how to get Tank permanent custody of his little girl. Her name is Wren, by the way.” Her eyes soften as she says the name. “Second, I need to file for divorce.” Cady pauses. “I’ve been estranged for a while from my husband,” — she stumbles over the word — “and I should have filed a long time ago, honestly. I guess I’ve been putting off dealing with it.” She takes another breath and looks up at me, lips curving into a smile. “Then, when that’s all done, Tank and I will get married, and assuming all goes well, we’ll start the paperwork for me to adopt Wren.”

“I see.” I turn to the man. “Mr. Barrigan, is that more or less how you see this working?”

The man that Cady calls Tank — whose real name is Matthew Barrigan — locks his dark, brooding eyes on mine, and gives me the barest of nods. He’s distractingly handsome, with longish brown hair, a short beard, and sensual lips. His long sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos lining his forearms. The patches on his leather jacket tell me he’s a member of the Lords of Carnage MC, the local motorcycle club.

Tank Barrigan is every inch the bad boy. His entire presence exudes grit, power, and masculinity. His is the kind of raw strength that comes not from the gym, but from the street. If I met this man out in public, I’d I wouldn’t know whether to be scared of him or attracted to him. Probably both, to be honest. He’s the kind of guy I might cross the street to avoid — except for one crazy, incongruous thing.

He’s wearing what looks like a kid’s plastic pop bead bracelet on one wrist.

I caught myself staring at the bracelet when he and Cady came into my office, its bright burst of color an instant distraction. I’ve been fighting not to gawk at it ever since. I can’t imagine that that bracelet came from anyone other than his daughter. In my line of work, I’ve gotten good at reading signs and body language, and the fact that a big, scary dude like Tank would wear that bracelet in public tells me something very important about my prospective client. Something more important than perhaps any other detail.

It tells me his commitment to fatherhood is real. It tells me how deeply he loves his little girl.

Tank shifts his gaze away from me to Cady. Her petite hand has been wrapped in his giant one ever since they sat down. The way his expression shifts as soon as their eyes meet tells me something else about this man. Something undeniable. Matthew “Tank” Barrigan is in love with Cady Abernathy, body and soul.

A sharp pang of grief hits me unexpectedly. Not for what I’ve lost, exactly. More for what I never had in the first place.

I swallow, and mentally push it away, before my new clients can notice anything is wrong.

“Well,” I murmur, straightening. “You’re right, it is all a little complicated, isn’t it? But I think I understand well enough. We’ll just take things step by step. Like you said, the first issue is the little girl. Wren.” I make a note on my pad and turn to Tank. “From what you’ve told me, Wren was dropped off on your doorstep, and you haven’t heard from the biological mother since. You don’t have an address for her? No contact information of any kind?”

“No.” The word rumbles from Tank’s lips in a deep baritone. “Let’s just say, there’s reasons she wouldn’t want anyone in my MC to find her. Jess betrayed the club,” he states simply. “So she’s probably not lookin’ to be found.”

“Hmm. Okay, well, that’s going to make things a little tougher,” I murmur. “Do you happen to know whether you’re listed as the father on the birth certificate?”

His brows knit together. “Nope. No idea. I haven’t seen the birth certificate. Wouldn’t know where to find it. All I have to go on is that Jess told me Wren is mine.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Well, in that case, the first thing to do is locate the certificate. If you’re listed on it, that will make things much easier. And of course, we will have to try to find the mother. Can you give me her full name?”

“Jessica Anderle.” Tank’s voice turns hard, angry. “But she doesn’t want the kid. I’m sure of that.”

I’m guessing there’s a back story here. And from the sound of it, it’s not a pretty one. I’m curious to hear what it is, but I’ve learned in my profession that the best thing to do in these cases is not to get bogged down by gossip and hearsay. It doesn’t advance the case to know any more — not right now, anyway. And it wastes the client’s time and money to let them spout off their grievances. So for now, I steer the conversation forward.

“Well, hopefully that means she won’t fight you for custody if and when we find her,” I answer. “This whole process would be much easier if we could have her sign a waiver releasing her parental rights. That way, Cady could eventually adopt her with no issues.” I weigh my words. “If the mother can’t be found, we can petition the courts to terminate her rights. That would be a long process, though, I’m warning you. We’ll have to show the courts that efforts have been made to find her and serve her. Then it will have to go through the court system, which won’t be quick.”

Cady looks grim. “We figured that might be the case.”

“Paternity rights will need to be established,” I continue, on a roll now with a patter I’ve explained dozens of times. “In the absence of the birth certificate, a paternity test could determine that. In the meantime, the child would likely be put in foster care…”

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