OLIN (A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga Book 3)

by Debra Kayn

Sydney stopped in front of him. "Olin?"

  He jerked his head up. "What?"

  "The baby is kicking. Would you like to feel?" Sydney's mouth softened, and she took his hand and placed it high on her belly.

  Her stomach moved in a wave, and he looked at Sydney. "Does that hurt?"

  "No." She smiled. "If I'm sitting and he stretches, it's uncomfortable when he presses against my ribs, but it's easy enough to change positions."

  He removed his hand and curled his fingers, watching Jett carry Arick and holding Cora's hand. Gunnar lugged a diaper bag into the house and Sydney wobbled behind her crew. Olin gazed after them until the front door shut.

  His chest seized, and he bent over at the waist and braced his hands on his knees, struggling for breath.

  Anger broke free from his chest in big gasps as if a large hand ripped his heart out. Ashley was going through the same thing as Sydney but doing it all alone. He couldn't help comparing the two women.

  Sydney receiving the love and support at home to bring a child into the world.

  Ashley had no one and struggled with the discomforts of prison on top of worrying about the pregnancy.

  Between his feet, a dandelion grew in his yard, taunting him. He straightened, weakened and tired, and gazed out at the front lawn.

  The damn things had overtaken the yard without Ashley here to pull the weeds out. He took his knife from his pocket and flicked the blade out. Bending over, he cut out the root of the dandelion from the dry earth.

  When he was done removing one, he moved on to another one.

  And, another one.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  "Yo, Ashley. You're going to miss visitation if you don't line up."

  She kept her eyes closed, facing the cement wall next to her bunk. "I can't."

  A gentle hand shook her shoulder. She groaned and turned her head, opening her eyes. Sheila was the youngest female in the pod and had latched on to her instantly upon arriving.

  "Your man will be disappointed if you don't show up." Sheila tugged Ashley's shirt. "Come on, lazy."

  She rolled over. The struggle to move her body on the slim cot took all her strength and left her panting. At eight months pregnant, she was all belly.

  Sitting up, she inhaled deeply. Her hips hurt worse today. Even with the extra mat, it was like sleeping on a board. She'd tossed and turned, even kneeled on the cold, dirty concrete floor and rested her head on the mat, letting her belly hang last night in an attempt to get a minute of relief.

  She stood and instantly had to pee. "What time is it?"

  "Eleven o'clock." Sheila left her side.

  She shuffled three feet to the toilet and sat down. A sigh of relief washed through her. Taking whatever little comfort she could, she closed her eyes, content to spend the rest of the day sitting on the stainless-steel throne.

  Jarred out of her zone by yelling out in the pod, she wiped, flushed, and pulled up her pants. She now had to leave the waistband below her belly and let her shirt fall past her butt.

  "Do you want me to help you comb your hair?" Sheila eyed her from the open door of the cell.

  "No." The thought of someone touching her only increased the tension in her body. She'd snap, unused to having people touch her.

  "Better hurry," said Sheila, keeping her on task.

  Ashley shuffled out of the cell and lined up with the others who were going on visitation today. "What day is it?"

  "Thursday," whispered Sheila behind her. "Now shut up before we get in trouble."

  Thursday? That meant she hadn't seen anyone from the outside for three days.

  Over the last six months, Lindsay and her mom had changed their days to come and see her to Saturday and Sunday. Olin would come alone today.

  She looked down at herself, unable to see her feet. It seemed as if the moment they told her she was pregnant, she grew bigger and bigger each day.

  The baby kicked. She rubbed her side, and the tiny foot or hand stopped moving.

  Fifteen minutes later, she'd been approved to enter the visiting room and sat in the chair to wait. All she wanted to do was put her head down on the table and sleep.

  By now, Olin probably viewed their time together as an obligation. She'd become someone who took up a good chunk of his week. He never missed a visitation. If she were him, she'd look forward to the week ride coming up, just so he wouldn't have to come see her.

  She lifted her arm and sniffed. Had she taken a shower yesterday?

  The odors inside the prison were normal to her, but she remembered the stink when first arriving. The stench had upset her stomach and turned her off food, or touching anything—the bunks, tables, toilet, and other people.

  Before prison, she would've avoided people like her. Now she was one of the disgusting, unlikable, questionable.

  The announcement of visiting hours starting came seconds before the door swung open. She scooted her chair as close to the table as possible to hide her body, from her breasts—that'd doubled in size— on down.

  She kept her back to the others entering, hoping they wouldn't notice her. Under the table, she rubbed her baby bump wishing she could go back to the cell and be by herself and her baby. She had no idea when she started feeling like she was never truly alone because she had a little one growing inside of her, comforting her.

  The closer her due date came, the more she realized she alone was responsible for her child, and prison was no place for an infant.

  "Ash?" said Olin behind her.

  She waved over her shoulder. "Go ahead and sit."

  Olin moved around the table and sat in front of her, frowning. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah."

  "Then, get up and give me a hug and kiss." He stood back up and looked at the guard station. "Before it's too late."

  Sighing because she couldn't make a scene, she stood and put one arm on his hip as she leaned in and pulled back fast.

  Olin tightened his arms, bringing her forward again. In her ear, he whispered, "What the hell is wrong?"

  "Nothing," she mumbled against his shoulder.

  "The baby?"

  "Fine." She shook her head. "I'm tired."

  He pulled back and guided her to the chair. She sat down. At one time, it would've broken her heart to disappoint him and to imagine him finding someone else. Now, she wouldn't fault him for finding another woman on the outside. He deserved more than what she could give him.

  She wasn't even sure if finding out he'd moved on with his life would break her heart because every fragile feeling inside of her had been conditioned out of her.

  Her heart had already been shattered.

  "You're worrying me." Olin braced his elbows on the table. "You need to tell me what the fuck is going on, so I can fix it."

  The faster he realized saying the words were an empty promise, the easier it would be for him to go on with his life. He had Brikken to worry about and his MC brothers.

  "There's nothing wrong." She grimaced as the baby kicked her ribs. "I'm hormonal...or not hormonal, I guess. I don't even know what is going on with me."

  "Have you asked the doctor?"

  Asking the doctor required her to have a full body search, a belly chain around her, and to walk to the other end of the prison where the physician, who was a 'retired' doctor, looked down on her for having a baby while incarcerated. She never asked him any questions because she was scared he was going to do something to hurt her or file to have her baby taken away as soon as she gave birth.

  "I'm sure it's normal. It just makes me not fun to be around." She lifted her brows, wanting to change the subject. "How's everyone?"

  He leaned to the side and removed a packet from his back pocket. "The prison already approved these. You can keep them."

  She opened the envelope and removed a stack of pictures. "What are these?"

  "The women gave you a baby shower." He pressed his lips together.

  "Oh, right." She sensed his irritation. "Johanna and Lindsay ment
ioned it a few weeks ago or a few months ago. I can't remember."

  She'd tried to forget they were celebrating the arrival of the baby on the outside. While everyone seemed to rejoice in the fact she and Olin were having a child, they went out of their way to pretend everything was normal.

  She looked down at the photos. Everyone was there, smiling and laughing. The females from the club, her sister, her mom.

  The next picture showed Lindsay opening a present and holding it up for the camera. Her vision blurred. There were lots of pictures of little clothes, blankets, toys.

  She restacked the pile and put them in the envelope. They were things that her baby would enjoy, and she'd never see her child play with the toys or see the little Brikken vest and jeans on her child.

  "Thank you," she whispered. "For, um, bringing me the photos."

  "Ash?"

  She looked up at Olin and braced. The heart palpitations always got worse when he was around. Common sense fought with her heart.

  Olin was hers.

  He'd been the only man she'd loved.

  Never could she have believed she'd survive without him, and here she was breathing. In prison. Alone.

  It was time to let him go.

  "Being here isn't forever." He reached across the table and motioned for her to give him her hands. Squeezing her cold fingers, he said, "You've got twenty-eight months to go."

  She stared at him. It was easy for him to say. He could go home at the end of the visit.

  "I need to talk to you about the baby," she whispered.

  He nodded.

  She looked at him, but she wasn't seeing him. It was a skill she'd developed over the months of being inside. If she shut off all the noise, the other people in the room, she could fool herself into believing she was talking to herself.

  Her fears were hidden.

  Her sadness contained.

  Her anger comforted.

  "I'll only be in the hospital for twenty-four hours when I go into labor." She moistened her dry lips. "I'd like to have the baby come back with me until um, my milk comes in and the baby is nursing."

  "Okay," he said, drawing the word out too long.

  "It'll probably only be a week. No more than a couple of days after that." She paused, letting him follow the conversation that probably seemed foreign to him. It was certainly something she never talked about with anyone before.

  "After that, I'm going to see about expressing the milk and collecting it. That is if you could get one of the Brikken members to pick the milk up every day if I can manage. I've heard from a couple of the other women who have had children while incarcerated that this is possible. The guards take it out and give it to someone in the admitting office, who will test it for drugs, and if everything is okay, they'll allow it to be picked up. I'd like to do that for the first six months, if not longer. I know I'm asking a lot and I'm inconveniencing someone else with the extra trips. I can try and have Lindsay do it, but she works until six in the evening, and I think that's too late for her to be able to get into the admitting section of the prison. She'd be the best person to help me, seeing as how she lives two houses down from your house and can run it over to you though. It wouldn't be a huge inconvenience, I hope. Do you think we can make this work?"

  His shoulders broadened. "Let me get this straight. You want me to take the baby after a week and pick up your milk to give to the kid?"

  She exhaled in relief that he understood and nodded. "Yes."

  He let go of her hands and leaned back in his chair. "No."

  She flinched at his highly controlled voice, and the extra lines etched into the corners of his eyes. He'd fallen into being someone other than Olin while visiting her. His passion and dare-devil personality had been checked at the door.

  "W-what do you mean no?"

  "The best thing for you is to keep the baby here," he said.

  She'd hurt him and taken away their future, and still, he continued to want what was best for her?

  She met his gaze. "The best thing for our baby is to go home with you. I don't want our child in prison."

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  D-Con shoved Olin off the chair. He caught himself before landing on his ass.

  "Bro, you're fucked." D-Con slapped his chest in a show that he was willing to throw a punch. "You want to settle it here, let's go."

  Olin lifted the chair and moved it away from his MC brother. "You're not going on the ride."

  "Bullshit." D-con swayed side to side in front of him. "I'll kick your ass until there's no choice but for me to go because you're fucking crying."

  "Enough." Jett banged the table. "D-Con you're on. Olin, you're still off."

  Olin gritted his teeth, grabbed his riding gloves off the table and left the meeting room. He needed on the ride. For Jett to take him off the roster and put D-Con on was fucked up.

  He couldn't remain in town, waiting for Ashley to go into labor, knowing she was overdue by a week and would probably have the kid with him thirty minutes away and unable to be with her.

  He fisted his hands and walked through the clubhouse. If he stayed, he was going to end up killing someone.

  The prison was under no obligation to contact him when Ashley goes into labor. He might not hear about the baby's arrival until she checked back into prison and had a chance to call him.

  Over the last two weeks, every time he walked into the visiting room, he expected to see her holding their child. And, every day, he became more concerned about her because she'd withdrawn from him.

  Some days, she skipped calling him. There were big lags in their conversations during visitations. She barely looked at him, and when she had, she'd closed herself off. There were no feelings aimed at him, but he knew they were there. They had to be there. Ashley belonged to him. She was a part of everything he lived for.

  If only he could be there when the baby comes. He should be there with her. If nothing else, supporting her while she went through the worst pain she's likely to ever experience.

  Instead, he was stuck at home watching his brothers paint his spare bedroom and Johanna, Sydney, and Lindsay set up the nursery his kid will never use.

  "Olin?"

  He pushed out the door, ignoring Jackie calling his name. His sister caught up with him at his Harley.

  "Where are you going?" She stepped around him and held onto the handlebar of his Harley.

  "Away." He grabbed his helmet and put it on his head.

  Jackie tugged his vest. "What's wrong?"

  "Nothing."

  "Is Aunt Ashley and the baby okay?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine," he bit out.

  Jackie groaned. "Don't treat me like I'm a child. Nobody ever wants to talk about Aunt Ashley."

  "I'm telling you the truth. I don't know how she is, sis." He threw his leg over the seat of his bike.

  Jackie threw herself on him, hugging his neck. He stiffened. Everyone and their damn friend wanted to hug him lately.

  "I love you," she said, holding on to him. "Out of all my brothers, you're my favorite."

  He grunted. Damn, Jackie. She knew the way to his heart. What was left of it anyway.

  "You're so full of shit." He ruffled her hair and inhaled, getting a nose full of coconut or pineapple or one of those girly smells.

  She pulled back and held up her hands in front of her. "Oh, you will not guess what happened yesterday."

  He sat his bike. Listening to Jackie calmed him. Untouched by the cruelties of the world, nothing ever got her down for long.

  "Remember Katrina?" Jackie's eyes widened. "She got a MIP. The thing is, the beer wasn't even hers. It was her boyfriend's, but she'd dropped him off at his apartment, and he forgot the case in the backseat. Katrina's parents found out about the ticket, and now they know that Travis—that's her boyfriend—is twenty-one years old. So, on top of being in trouble for the minor in possession, her dad is forbidding her from being with Travis."

  He took in Jackie's anima
ted voice and her hand waving. "Why is this funny to you? Isn't she your friend?"

  "Yeah, but Travis was flirting with me first and—"

  "Hold it right there." He got off his motorcycle. "What the hell are you doing hanging out with a twenty-one-year-old?"

  "Sh..." She waved her hands. "I didn't say I was, but when he came to the gate looking to prospect for Brikken, we talked before he met with Jett."

  He relaxed. "Jett told him no."

  Jackie shook her head. "That's what I heard."

  He harrumphed. Jett was on top of interviewing those interested in joining Brikken. Knowing him, he figured out the guy wasn't good for their sister and kicked him outside the gate.

  His phone vibrated, and he pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the number. It came from the prison.

  "I need to take this." He walked a few feet away and connected the call. "Yeah?"

  "Mr. Stanton, this is the Washington Corrections Center for Women. We're making a courtesy call to let you know Ashley Thompson, inmate 57301, went into labor Monday evening. She's been moved to the Living Unit," said the male voice.

  His heart pounded. "Is she okay?"

  "I have no other information. This has been a courtesy—"

  He disconnected the call and pivoted in a circle looking around for someone to help him. Today was Wednesday. She had the baby two days ago?

  "Fuck," he bellowed. "Fuck!"

  Jackie skirted him, running for the clubhouse. He paced from his bike to the door.

  He needed to see her. There was no way in hell he could wait until tomorrow. He felt behind him and patted the nine-millimeter tucked under his belt. He'd take out every son of a bitch who tried to stop him from going right now to see his woman.

  "Olin," barked Jett, followed by Thorn.

  His head pounded. Labor? What in the hell did that even mean? Did she have the baby or not? Was she okay? Was the baby okay?

  Jett grabbed him, stopping him from walking. "Talk to me."

  "I need to see her." He gasped, his chest tightening. "Ash," he yelled, needing her to come running to him.

  "We'll get you there." Thorn came to his side. "Let's go inside, get a drink, and hear what happened."