Outlaw's Child: The Saint's Disciples MC, #3

By Claire St. Rose

Outlaw's Child is book 3 and the finale of The Saint's Disciples MC trilogy!

I'M GONNA PUT A BABY IN MY DAUGHTER'S TEACHER.

Single dad biker? I'm one of a kind.
My daughter Opal is my whole world.
And if her spitfire teacher thinks she's going to come between me and my baby girl…
I'm gonna have to teach her a lesson or two.

I didn't ask for a daughter.
But as long as she's my responsibility, I'm gonna be the best damn dad I can be.
That means teaching my baby girl everything I know.

How to ride a bike.
Throw a punch.
She ain't gonna be a damsel in distress.
Not on my watch.

But her teacher seems to have an issue with my parenting style.
And when she gets in my face to tell me how to raise my daughter…
It ignites something in me.

It won't be enough to yell back.
No, I need to break this woman down.

I'm going to take her.
Own her.
And when it's all said and done…
I'm gonna put my baby in her belly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Nov 28, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386611738

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OUTLAW’S CHILD: The Saint’s Disciples MC (Book 3)

By Claire St. Rose

I’M GONNA PUT A BABY IN MY DAUGHTER’S TEACHER.

SINGLE DAD BIKER? I’M one of a kind.

My daughter Opal is my whole world.

And if her spitfire teacher thinks she’s going to come between me and my baby girl...

I’m gonna have to teach her a lesson or two.

I didn’t ask for a daughter.

But as long as she’s my responsibility, I’m gonna be the best damn dad I can be.

That means teaching my baby girl everything I know.

How to ride a bike.

Throw a punch.

She ain’t gonna be a damsel in distress.

Not on my watch.

But her teacher seems to have an issue with my parenting style.

And when she gets in my face to tell me how to raise my daughter...

It ignites something in me.

It won’t be enough to yell back.

No, I need to break this woman down.

I’m going to take her.

Own her.

And when it’s all said and done...

I’m gonna put my baby in her belly.

Chapter 1

FAYE

Ican’t breathe. My knees are pushed all the way up to my chest, and I am struggling to catch fresh air over the dank smell of the exhaust seeping in through the trunk. Sherri is rolled over partially on top of me. From the dim flashlight rolling around by our feet, I can see that her eyes are still closed and the little trail of blood from her forehead has stopped actively bleeding. I have no idea if she is alive or dead. I close my eyes, trying to remember what exactly is going on.

It comes to me in flashes. Three days ago, Opal and I were upstairs working on a history project for her alternative classroom when we heard a bang. It was the sound of the door flying off of its hinges. Then came Sherri’s scream and the drop of something hard and metal on the kitchen floor. I ran to our door, shutting it quietly. Turning back towards a frightened Opal, I tried to suppress my own fear as I instructed her, You have to hide! Go into the closet, in the very corner. Hide behind one of my storage tubs. Don’t come out no matter what. I mean it.

She had only gotten about halfway back before I heard them running up the stairs, shouting for us to come out. I threw the doors to the closet shut just in time – half a second later, the opened the door. There were four of them—large, burly men, wearing black jackets with patches just like Noah’s. At first, I thought they may be with the Disciples, but when they began to instruct me onto the ground, I knew instantly who it was.

Where’s the girl? the leader of the group with his long, stringy beard stared me down from behind the barrel of a handgun. Tell me where she is!

What girl? I played dumb. It was my only defense.

He motioned to one of his friends and he walked over, grabbed me by my hair, and yanked me down to the ground. I was inches from the leader’s boots when he screams it again, The girl! Where the fuck is Noah Cruz’ daughter?

I looked up at his pant legs and said defiantly, I don’t know who you mean.

The only thing I remember fully after that is his boot raising over my head, a sting of searing white pain, and then – blackness.

When I came to, both my ears were ringing, and I had a nasty headache. I brought my hand to where the bastard had kicked me, but as I did so, I felt hands grab my arms away from me and stand me up. One of them pinned me up against the wall. I could make out the leader’s voice, seething, If this bitch ain’t gonna talk, we’re gonna have to figure out a way to force her.

I fluttered my eyes open, and I saw him lift his hand above his head. I cowered down, trying to get as far from him as possible, though I knew it was fruitless. As he came towards me, though, I heard Opal’s small voice cry out, Wait! Don’t hurt her! I’m here – I’m right here!

Opal, no! I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice going hoarse.

The men laughed as they let me down to turn their attention to her. The leader circled her like a wolf, tousling her hair. So, he said slowly, you’re the Opal Cruz, the Vice’s daughter? You don’t look like anything worth protecting. But I’ve got my orders.

He snapped his fingers, and one of the men grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed, reaching out her arms towards me as I tried to fight back against the man holding me. I watched as he took her out of my sight. That was the last time I saw her, the last time I heard her voice.

After that, the men threw me down my stairs and put me in my living room. The leader made phone calls to determine our fate, ultimately deciding it was better to keep us both alive – at least for now. Apparently they might need us if Noah came looking. We were that extra bit of leverage they could have against his enemy.

Then, they put us in the back of a van with bags over our head. When Sherri tried to speak to me, they slammed the wooden handle of a hammer against her head till she stopped talking and her body slumped up against mine. When we got to wherever we were going, they put us into this trunk, where we’ve been ever since, only let out a few times to go to the bathroom, get a drink, and for a woman to place snack cakes in our tied hands.

I count the seconds down in my head. I do them slowly – trying to make sure I don’t underestimate how much time has passed in our moving prison. I’m well over five thousand before the car pulls to a stop again and I hear someone approach the trunk. As light streams in the back, I look up to see a man holding an old Polaroid camera up to his head. A light beam flashes, making me blink. He hands the developing photo to another man dressed in black.

Another man holds out a cup of clear liquid that I drink quickly, eagerly. My dry tongue tries to ask for more, but they just laugh and then push the trunk closed again. I count the seconds again, this time to the tune of my favorite songs. Sherri’s body turns over once more, and I cuddle close, praying my warmth will keep her alive.

We’re going to get out of here, I whisper hoarsely. But as it becomes harder to focus on the amount of seconds passing by and the bumps feel more like waves washing over me, I lose hope that my end isn’t anywhere but here in this trunk with Noah a million miles away.

Chapter 2

FAYE

10 ,345.

10,346.

10,347.

...

Each second that passes is another I spend in complete and utter agony. Each second that passes is another in which I am kept in the dark. I’ve reset