OLIN (A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga Book 3)

by Debra Kayn

  "Proud of you, Ash." He kissed the top of her head.

  She placed her cheek against the front of him. "What do you think of our baby?"

  "He's everything," he whispered. "How could he be anything less with you as his mother?"

  She straightened and stepped a few inches away from him. "You can name him."

  "We never talked about names. What do you like?"

  The cords on the front of her neck constricted. "I want you to do it."

  He looked down at the top of his son's head, the name came instantly when he remembered how much Ashley liked Rollo's middle name in one of their late-night discussions in bed.

  "Patrik," he said. "Patrik Rollo Stanton."

  She smiled softly and took their son from him. "We'll call him Trik because I have a feeling he's going to grow up to be his own man."

  He stepped back and waited while the others hugged, kissed, and said their goodbyes. Then, he hesitated, needing Sydney to look at him, to connect with him one more time so he could silently shout his feelings and shoulder her pain, easing her load.

  She never looked.

  He walked away from his family. Each step more painful the closer he got to the door.

  Chapter Thirty

  "Get out of my face, bitch."

  "Come on, bring it," screamed Latoya. "I'll take you down."

  "You and who else?" I'm not afraid of Sparrows. My guys will take out every one of your gang."

  Ashley stood in front of the crib where Trik slept after nursing. "Susan, wake up," she hissed at her cellmate.

  "Wha...?" Susan moaned and rolled to her back on the cot.

  "Hurry and shut the door." Ashley, refusing to leave Trik's side.

  When fights broke out on the unit, the angry instigators tended to migrate to any room left open to get away from the security cameras. She glanced over at the other crib in the room. Susan's daughter, Bayleigh, at one and a half years old, slept soundly through the loud yelling and taunting.

  Susan dragged her ass off her mat and shut the door, then leaned her back against it, keeping everyone out. The procedure made Ashley feel better despite knowing that if those in the hallway teamed together, they'd be able to bust into the room with little effort.

  Susan yawned. "What's their problem tonight?"

  "Who knows." She turned to the crib and watched Trik sleep through the noise.

  Only three weeks old and already her son had become accustomed to sudden noises, twenty-four-hour announcements over the loudspeaker outside the cell, strip searches—yes, they put her baby through the humiliating practice every time they were required to leave the unit or a surprise inspection happened to look for contraband.

  She never planned to have him with her in prison this long. But, Olin went on a scheduled club run last week and with her sister working full time, her mom living in Portland and working part-time, she kept Trik with her out of necessity.

  Her stomach burned. She pressed her hand under her ribs. Something was wrong with her since giving birth. Most of the time, she couldn't tell if she was hungry or if eating made the pain worse. The antacid chewable the prison doctor assigned for her during her two-week checkup barely helped ease the constant burning.

  "I'm going to kill you when you sleep, bitch!"

  Ashley looked over her shoulder to make sure Susan still stood guard. They shared a look of frustration. Over their time spent together, they'd formed a bond of respect.

  Susan wasn't a bad person. She loved her daughter, had dreams of freedom, and a family missing her. Those traits gave them something in common.

  "I'm so sick of this place." Susan banged the back of her head against the door. "Can you imagine a full night of sleep?"

  "I'd be afraid I wouldn't wake up. I'm so tired, and I hurt. I never thought my bones would ache at forty years old." She shrugged, self-consciously. "I'd do anything for a steaming, hot shower."

  Susan sighed. "Shaved armpits."

  "Soft toilet paper," added Ashley.

  "A burrito from the corner AM/PM."

  Ashley turned, keeping her hand on the crib and sat on her bunk, close enough she could grab Trik if anyone crossed the barrier. "That's disgusting."

  "Admit it. You'd eat it."

  She nodded. "I do know I'll never eat white rice again."

  "Or, dehydrated potatoes."

  She rolled her eyes. "Ugh."

  They spent the rest of the night holding down their positions. Susan, sitting on the floor, pressed against the door, and Ashley leaning against the crib from an upright position on the cot.

  Daylight came in the form of a seven o'clock wake up call. Ashley lifted her shirt and fed Trik, who'd taken to nursing like a pro, taking a lot of stress off her shoulders. Not to mention discomfort from her body.

  She stroked his head. "You're such a good boy," she whispered, rewarded with him opening his eyes.

  Each day that went by, Trik's eyes became clearer, darker. He looked more like Olin now, and she wondered how much of her situation would be absorbed, stamped, and inflicted on Trik's personality.

  Her stomach ached. No amount of medicine would fix what she dreaded.

  Soon, she'd need to hand Trik over to Olin. He would take their son home and give him the life he deserved with plush stuffed animals, a quiet house, and a world where there were hundreds of people ready and willing to lay their life down for her child.

  Most of all, Trik would have his father. Someone who would love, calm, and nurture him.

  Olin could sit in the backyard with him and fill their son's mind with what interested little boys. Bugs, mud, wrestling, and of course, two-wheeled machines that make a lot of noise. Lindsay would provide her son with hugs and kisses and promises of love. Johanna and her girls would spoil him, expanding his circle of family. Chief would regale him with tales of Rollo and set an example of how he should live his life.

  She wiped the wetness off her cheeks.

  And, someday, she hoped her baby boy forgave her for not being a part of his early life. That he would be well-adjusted when she was released, so they could start their relationship over the right way.

  The way she always wished for him.

  Over the next hour, before breakfast, she bathed Trik quickly with the warm, wet washrags, dressed him in a clean onesie, and wrapped him in a blanket to take the chill off. Cradling her son to her chest, she whispered, "Let's go call your daddy."

  In the common area, the prison kiosk was unattended. She put in her order for commissary, checked her balance, and moving over to the phone on the wall, put in her PIN, and waited for Olin to accept the call.

  It was hard to imagine she'd miss the freedom of the Living Unit when she returned to Pod B. The only differences in the two cells were the children present. The drama, fights, and noise were the same.

  "Ash?" said Olin.

  "We're here." She looked down at Trik. How easy it was to include him in her life as if he'd always been a part of her.

  Once it had only been her, and then with Olin, she'd become a couple, now there were three of them. A family living apart.

  Soon, she'd be alone again.

  "How's your day going?" he asked.

  "I didn't get much sleep last night, but Trik has a full tummy, clean body, and dry diaper. He's sleeping now."

  "Wish I was there to see you and our son." In the background, the rumble of motorcycles threatened to muffle Olin's voice over the phone.

  "Everything okay on your end?" She paused as Tasha walked by with her son, Elijah. "You're almost home, right?"

  "Yeah, about five hours out. I'll be able to visit tomorrow."

  "Lindsay and my mom are coming today." She leaned her shoulder against the wall.

  "That's good."

  "Yeah," she murmured into the phone. "I should probably let you go. They'll be serving breakfast soon, and I don't want to get in trouble for being late."

  "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow. Try to get some rest."

  She
closed her eyes every second she could but in prison when she was held to a schedule and never had the luxury of trusting that her baby was safe, those times were few and far between.

  "Love you."

  She swallowed hard and looked down at their baby. "Love you, too."

  The call disconnected before their time limit ended.

  Seeing Olin tomorrow on Monday would be for the best. There were no more visiting days until Thursday. He would have to stay away and be home for Trik. She would have time to get situated back into Pod B and make sure her JPay account followed her.

  And, it would give her time to make sure the paperwork went through the proper channels within the prison to stop Olin from visiting her.

  It was for the best.

  Chapter Thirty One

  The inside of the prison gave no reprieve from the ninety-five-degree day outside. Olin walked forward into the visiting room. If anything, it was hotter inside with no air conditioning and the crush of too many bodies in one space.

  He found Ashley standing by the table holding Trik. To see her on her feet, looking forward to his visit did more for him than a week on the road trying to make sense of his life and his limits.

  She walked toward him. "I've been waiting for you. I signed us up for a private room."

  "What are you talking about?" He glanced down at Trik and back up at her. "Everything okay?"

  "We need to go to the guard station. They'll show us to a room." She stepped away, looking over her shoulder to see if he'd follow. "We'll have privacy."

  He wasn't going to let her out of his sight. Rules gave him two and a half hours with her and his son, he wanted every second.

  The guard led them down a hallway and opened an all-glass door. He followed his family inside. There were only half a dozen chairs in the room. No table to keep them apart.

  The door shut. He turned and witnessed the guard locking them inside.

  "Go ahead and sit. You can hold Trik," said Ashley.

  He waited until she took a chair, then sat beside her. She kissed Trik and held him to the crook of her neck, and he wondered why she seemed reluctant to hand over the baby.

  Finally, she deposited their son in his arms. Needing to touch her, he leaned over and kissed her, feeling wetness on her cheeks.

  She pulled back. He cradled Trik in one arm and reached over and hooked her neck, bringing her close. Putting their foreheads together, he said, "Talk to me, Ash. What's going on here?"

  "The prison allows us to use this room, but it cuts our visit short." She wiped her face with shaky hands.

  "What do you mean short?" He thrummed his thumb against her cheek. "Let's go back to the visiting room. I want my full time with you and Trik. I want to know why you're crying. Are you tired?"

  She placed her hand on his thigh. "You're going to take Trik out of here. Take him home."

  He dropped his hand. None of what she was saying made sense. "I've got my bike."

  That's all he had. Brikken, Ashley, and now Trik.

  Ashley moistened her quivering lips. "Lindsay is out in the parking lot. I've asked her to help you today. She's got a car seat and will take him to your house."

  "Damnit, Ash." He gritted his teeth to stop from blowing up. "I came here to see you and our son."

  "You're not listening. I want—"

  "This is bullshit," he whispered leaning close. "Patrik belongs here with you. You're his mother."

  Her neck snapped back, and she flinched. He stood before he brought the whole prison down by yelling. His son belonged with his mother. Trik was fully dependent on her. She supplied the milk, the comfort, and knew how to wash, dress, and make him stop crying.

  He never wanted to raise a child without her. They were supposed to be a family.

  Ashley stood and hugged her middle. "Stop at check-in, they're supposed to have the bags of milk I've collected for you. There's enough for two days, I think. Lindsay knows what to do if something happens and you run out of milk. You'll have to put him on formula, and it might upset his stomach at first. B-but, I'm really going to try hard to supply enough milk for him. I bought a pump through commissary, and as long as I pass the drug test, which of course, I will, they'll give you the milk at the desk. It'll have to be picked up every day."

  His mind whirled, and his lungs seized. "Don't do this."

  "You'll be okay. There are a lot of people who will help you raise our son," she said, ending on a broken whisper.

  Tears rolled down her face. So many, they wet the neck of her white T-shirt.

  "Ash?" He closed his eyes an extra beat. "You need him."

  "Please." Ash's shoulders rounded and she shrank two inches. "Take him. Love him."

  Her throat muscles constricted and she trembled. His heartbeat thundered, and his eyes burned, seeing what she was doing to herself. To him. To their son.

  She was giving up on their son. Giving up on him. Giving up on them.

  "I walk out of here, you won't see me until Thursday. The prison isn't going to let me back in if you need him during the night or tomorrow or the next day. You won't see your son for three days." His pulse roared in his head. "Don't do this to him."

  Her gaze dropped to his chest, to the baby, and her chin lifted. "He's the reason I must."

  She stepped around him, not looking at him or her child, and knocked on the door. The guard came instantly and unlocked the room.

  Ashley walked out without looking back at him.

  Olin stood in the doorway and watched another guard attach cuffs to her hands and lead her down the hallway. She never looked back once.

  "Sir, if you'll follow me, I'll show you the way out." The guard walked in the opposite direction Ashley left.

  He looked down at his son, sleeping innocently in his arms, unaware that he wouldn't see his mother for at least three days.

  Then, he did the only thing he could. He followed the guard, picked up the breast milk at check-in, and stalked to his Harley not knowing what he was doing or where he was going.

  A car honked. He looked up and found Lindsay parked three vehicles down and headed toward her. Unable to talk, he opened the back door, and carefully put Trik in the backward facing car seat.

  His son squirmed without opening his eyes, showing his dislike of being tied down and away from his mother's arms. He tugged on the blanket, loosening it around his tiny legs. In the warm weather, the baby would be fine uncovered a little.

  He straightened and shut the car door. "You'll, uh, bring him to the house?"

  Lindsay nodded, reaching out and squeezing his arm. "I’m so sorry. I tried talking to her yesterday, but she was adamant about sending him home with you. I'll call Johanna once we get Trik home and between all of us helping you, we'll figure this out."

  He ran his hands through his hair, sweeping the strands off his face. "How could she do this?"

  Lindsay blew out her breath. "She believes this is best for Trik."

  "When is she ever going to get it through her thick head that she deserves to be happy, too. Every fucking decision she makes is for other people. Why doesn't she care about what is best for her?"

  "Because she's Ashley and she's always loved you," whispered Lindsay.

  He shook his head. "Get in. I'll follow you back to the house."

  Needing to get his anger out before he had to face his first night with his son alone, he got on his Harley and revved the engine to life trying to deafen him to what he imagined was going on inside the prison.

  He knew Ashley better than anyone.

  She could not walk away from her son with only a few tears. When she chose to love someone, she loved them completely—faults and all. She would fight, scratch, and throw the biggest fucking fight never saying why, but he knew why. He damn well knew.

  He rode away from the prison, feeling a lot like he'd killed someone. And, that someone was the woman he loved more than life itself.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Trik's little legs retracte
d as his lungs choked out his outrage. Olin paced in the living room, patting his son's warm back.

  Lindsay rushed into the room from the kitchen. "I've got the bottle. It's room temperature now."

  He took the bottle from her and sat down on the couch, bringing Trik down to the crook of his arm. "Let's try this again, son."

  Trik screamed his upset with an open mouth and a rhythmic sputter. It wasn't a normal cry. There were no tears—which worried him. Every inch of his tiny body trembled. The half-hearted noise had him fearing his son wasn't breathing right.

  He put the nipple between Trik's lips, dribbling Ashley's breast milk on his son's tongue, only accomplishing to distress the baby more. He'd been trying to feed the kid since they got home from prison, and Trik wasn't having any of it.

  "Oh, God, I don't even know what to suggest." Lindsay sat on the coffee table in front of him. "Ashley told me how to prep the milk. I just assumed he'd take a bottle."

  "Get my phone. It's on the chair." He tried to entice his son again with the nipple. "Push the contact for my mom and put her on speaker."

  Lindsay hurried to follow directions and set the phone on the arm of the couch near him.

  "Hello?" said his mom.

  "It's Olin." He spoke over the baby's crying. "I need you. Can you come—"

  "I'm on my way."

  "Thanks." He shoved the bottle between the couch cushions and picked up Trik, putting him on his shoulder.

  Lindsay disconnected the call. "Do you think he needs his diaper changed?"

  "No, I think he needs his mom." He paced the floor. "He should be with Ashley."

  "Well, we're going to have to figure this out. It's been six hours since we've been home. Ashley says he eats every two hours." Lindsay picked up the bottle and walked behind Olin. "Hold still. Maybe if I feed him over your shoulder, he'll like it."

  Trik's cries turned to mews.

  "It just dribbles out. He doesn't even swallow. I'm afraid he'll choke," said Lindsay.

  "I'm taking him outside. His head is hot and sticky from crying." Olin walked out the front door.