Don't Say It: Ronacks Motorcycle Club Read online

  Don't Say It

  Ronacks Motorcycle Club

  by Debra Kayn

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Don't Say It

  Ronacks Motorcycle Club

  1st Digital release: Copyright© 2016 Debra Kayn

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Debra Kayn. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  www.debrakayn.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Epilogue

  Author Bio

  Debra Kayn's Backlist

  ~ Sneak Peek ~

  Dedication

  To those who can see past stereotypes, gossip, lies, and realize there are always two sides to everything. Two sides to a coin. Two sides to a door. Two sides to people. It's what you don't hear/read/see that will tell the true story.

  Acknowledgements

  Haugan, Montana —In real life, Haugan is an unincorporated community in Mineral County, Montana. It's sixteen miles from the Idaho border and not far from where I live in Idaho. Haugan is the home to only one business, which happens to be one of my favorite places to go, Lincoln's 50,000 Silver Dollar Bar. I've fictionalized the town to include a main street with enough businesses to keep a motorcycle club afloat.

  Chapter One

  Swiss's stomach vibrated. He opened his eyes and found himself on the couch. The lights still on in the living room.

  He picked up his phone off his stomach as he rolled into a sitting position on the sofa and shut off the alarm he'd set earlier. He'd fallen asleep with the television on while watching the football game. That was four hours ago. The longest stretch of sleep he'd achieved in a long time.

  It was time to leave. Pine Bar and Grill would close in twenty minutes, and he needed to meet Raelyn, the manager, to pick up the cash from what the bar brought in with business today.

  As a member of Ronacks Motorcycle Club, it was his job to hold on to the money overnight and pass it off to his MC brother, Grady, in the morning for drop-off at the clubhouse. Battery, the president, wanted no incentive for someone to break into the bar and put Raelyn and her son, Dukie, at risk.

  As a widow, Raelyn had enough worries as a single parent living above the bar. The club tried to keep any added stress from hitting her on top of her already busy schedule.

  Swiss took a piss, splashed water from the faucet over his face, and grabbed his leather vest. His stomach growled, and he stopped to eat the half of a deli sandwich he'd left out on the counter earlier. He finished in three bites.

  He shut off the television, locked the front door behind him, and stopped in front of the duplex. Something was wrong. He listened, peered down the street, and whipped his gaze to a car next to the curb behind his Harley.

  Following his thoughts, he gazed over at the other side of the duplex. A light was on inside.

  "Fuck," he muttered, grounding his teeth together.

  He must've slept harder than he'd thought. Usually, even when he got some shuteye, he continued to hear every noise, inside and out, from voices to car doors.

  Damn, he was getting old.

  While he'd slept, someone had moved into the other side of the duplex. Nobody had rented that side for over twenty-two years.

  The roof leaked in the back bedroom, thanks to the holes he tapped into the 3-tab shingles to keep anyone from moving in, and over the years, the carpet had rotted from moisture in the winter and heat in the summer.

  Hell, the out-of-state landlord never came by, and Swiss made sure never to mow the joined front patch of yard to keep the appearance up that the building was abandoned. There weren't even appliances on that side of the duplex.

  Even if the renter believed a good cleaning would get the place livable, the first good rainfall would have them running away from their lease when they discovered the mess the weather created inside their living room. Besides the unhealthy conditions, he had enough reasons to make sure whoever moved in moved right back out.

  His good mood ruined, he walked to his motorcycle under the glow of the streetlight and glanced over at the early nineteen-eighties Honda. Maroon paint with a faded hood, the car had seen better days. He threw his leg over his bike, started the engine, and pulled a U-turn in the street.

  Looking at the car as he rode away, he noticed the back tire was flat. He hit the throttle harder than he usually went around the block in the middle of the night. His new lowlife neighbor would probably let the car sit at the curb and junk the place up even more.

  He pulled out onto the main street of Haugan. The small, rural Montana town only a bird's throw from Idaho and smack dab along Interstate 90. Most of the people milling around during the day were tourist traveling through the state. At night, the locals went to sleep as soon as the two bars in town closed.

  Three blocks later with the bar insight, he slowed down. A handful of customers flowed out the front door happier than when they went in and leaning heavily on each other. Swiss turned left and pulled in behind the bar beside three other motorcycles tagged as belonging to Ronacks members.

  Sander and Rod, his MC brothers, and to his surprise, his president, Battery, were inside the bar. Battery rarely showed up at the bar, even though the club owned the establishment. He preferred to stay away from the place that had changed the direction of his wife's life and almost got Bree killed back when her parents owned the joint.

  Swiss strode through the back door and raised voices coming from the other room greeted him. He hurried through the kitchen and came out behind the counter of the bar to find Raelyn standing beside Battery. Sander and Rod blocked an angry woman from getting any closer to their president and their responsibility.

  "I'm only asking if you've seen her." The woman, he guessed in her early twenties,
raised her hands out to her sides. "Was she here or not?"

  "I've already told you that I don't believe anyone fitting her description has been here and even if she had visited the bar, I cater to customers. Adult customers who have a right to come and go as they please without the stress of knowing they're patronage to my business will be questioned." Raelyn's shoulders drooped, and she looked up at Battery. "I believe we've done all we can to help the lady. It's time for her to leave."

  "Go ahead and escort the lady outside and make sure she gets back on the road safely," said Battery in a tone that stopped the woman from arguing.

  Rod and Sander bookended the woman and herded her toward the front door. Swiss waited until the members trespassed the woman from the bar and cleared his throat.

  Raelyn swiveled around, her blondish ponytail swinging behind her, and sighed in relief. "Hi, Swiss."

  "Hey, honey." Swiss then glanced at Battery. "Exciting night?"

  "Some woman looking for her sister and thought getting in Raelyn's face would get her the answers she was looking for." Battery ran his hand down his full beard. "Where've you been?"

  "Home sleeping." Swiss reached up and pulled his skullcap down to his brows. "I planned to go over to the clubhouse earlier, but grabbed some sandwiches at the deli and turned the game on. I crashed until it was time to come pick up the bag."

  Raelyn placed her slim hand on Swiss's arm. "Speaking of which, let me get you the money."

  Swiss watched Raelyn go to the end of the counter and open the cash register. There was something off with Raelyn tonight. She usually was in the mood to talk when the bar closed and would even sit down and share a beer with him to relax after a busy day before she had to go upstairs and relieve the babysitter. Tonight, she seemed distant, rushed, and serious.

  "Is she okay?" Swiss lifted his chin in Raelyn's direction.

  Battery lowered his voice, "Today's the anniversary of Duke's death."

  "Jesus," he mumbled. "Can't believe it's been two years."

  Raelyn and Duke had only found out they were going to be parents before Duke was shot and killed when the Russians came looking for Bree. Sorrow laid heavily on him. He'd been there the day Duke took the bullet and tried to stop the bleeding and get the lead out, but the high caliber shot had taken most of Duke's neck out. His MC brother was dead before anything could be done.

  "Here you go," said Raelyn, stopping in front of Swiss.

  He put the bag under his shirt in the back and tucked the material under his belt, covering the bulk with his leather Ronacks vest. "How's Dukie?"

  "Running everywhere." Raelyn smiled tiredly. "He's only eighteen months and has already discovered how to climb up on top of the dining room table. I've resorted to locking the chairs in my room and out of his way unless we have company. I'm afraid one of these days, he's going to jump off and crack his chin open. He's a real daredevil. As it is, Pepper does such an awesome job keeping one step ahead of him while I work. Jana and Bree watch him for me when Pepper has to go to her college classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I don't know what I'd do without the women in my life."

  Swiss leaned in and kissed her cheek. "You're a good momma, Rae."

  Raelyn's eyes misted. Swiss squeezed her hand. Duke would be proud of his woman. She'd stayed strong throughout everything and lived for their son. Managing the bar gave her income and security. Along with the club supporting her, Raelyn would be fine.

  "Oh, I can't believe I forgot." Raelyn stepped away and put her hand on her head. "I didn't wrap a piece of pie for you to take home. Let me go—"

  "That's okay. I'm still full from dinner," Swiss lied. "Why don't you go put your feet up. I'm going to hit the road."

  He motioned at Battery. "Walk out with me?"

  "Yeah. Give me a second." Battery turned to Raelyn.

  Swiss left through the kitchen and walked out the back door. He lit a cigarette and waited by his Harley for his president. The wait wasn't long, and Battery came outside before he could finish his smoke.

  "What brought you to the bar tonight?" asked Swiss, knowing Battery wouldn't have come over because a woman came around looking for her sister. There were always two Ronacks members who stayed during working hours to make sure there were no problems.

  "Bree wanted me to check in on Raelyn and give her a gift for Dukie. I got tied up earlier and couldn't get away." Battery pulled out a cigarette and sat his motorcycle. "We decided to hand over Duke's vest. Told Raelyn to keep it for the kid. You would've thought I brought Duke back to life when she held the leather, man."

  Swiss flinched and shook his head. "She loved him."

  "Yeah, wholeheartedly," mumbled Battery. "Makes me want to go home and crawl in bed, keep Bree a little closer."

  Swiss nodded. He understood the sentiment but had no desire to feel that way about another person. The solitary life fit him fine.

  He only worried about himself. Life was simpler that way.

  "I'll see you tomorrow." Battery stepped over to his motorcycle.

  "Ride with purpose, Prez," said Swiss, stating the club's pledge.

  Battery mumbled, "Always, man."

  The president of Ronacks started his motorcycle and rode away from the bar. Swiss looked at the back door, found it closed, and the outside light turned off. Raelyn had already shut down for the night to be alone with her memories.

  He started the engine of his Harley and followed Battery out of town. At the last street, before the speed limit raised to forty-five miles per hour, Swiss turned right and headed toward the duplex, knowing it would be another long night since it was unlikely that he'd be able to go back to sleep.

  He swung over to the curb, backed his bike into position, and pocketed his keys. Glancing over at the rusted piece of shit-mobile next to the curb, he walked around the vehicle and kneeled down beside the flat tire, running his hand over the surface in the dark. Near the bottom, he felt the tell-tale sign of a nail protruded from the rubber.

  It'd take more than a simple inflate to get the car drivable. The owner would need a spare and a trip to Leery's Tire Supply for a patch.

  He straightened, knowing it wasn't his problem, and walked around the back of the car and up on the sidewalk. A dark shadow appeared alongside the car, and he turned, his hand going to his vest pocket where he kept his pistol.

  "Don't move," said a feminine voice.

  Swiss held his hands away from his vest. "Easy, there."

  "Who are you and what are you doing snooping around my car?" she asked.

  In the dark with the streetlight behind her, all he could make out was a woman with dark hair, probably brown, about five-feet-five-inches, and average weight. Her voice tremored when she spoke.

  Apparently, she was his new neighbor.

  "My name's Swiss. I live behind you on the left side of the duplex." He waited for her to look over her shoulder, and when she continued to hold a pistol on him, he said, "Why don't you point that somewhere else and I can go inside and get out of your hair."

  "You live on the other side of the duplex?"

  "Yeah." He lowered his hands. "Let's put the gun away, sweet."

  "You're in a gang?"

  He chuckled. "This would be a nice conversation of getting to know you if I felt more secure about you handling a weapon."

  She lowered the gun and aimed it at his feet. Though he'd prefer she put the pistol away before she accidently shot him, he let her have her protection and hoped if her finger squeezed the trigger, she'd hit the steel toe of his boot.

  "Answer my question." She straightened her arms and yet followed Swiss's request to keep the barrel pointed lower. "Are you in a gang?"

  "Motorcycle club." Swiss kept his gaze on her hands. "Ronacks Motorcycle Club."

  "You said your name was Swiss," she said.

  "That's what I'm called."

  "You live here?" She tilted her head to the side.

  He'd like to see her in the light. Going by her voice and the way she held he
r position, he liked where his mind took him. She had guts.

  With a gun in her hand, he'd be foolish to believe her stupid or predictable. But, it was the middle of the night, and he wasn't planning on standing around with a pistol pointed at him answering her questions twice because she failed to understand him the first time.

  "Already told you where I live and as much as I'd like to discuss this more with you until you believe me, I need to get inside." He stepped to his right, keeping her in view in case she made any sudden movements.

  Aware of the package of cash against his back, he'd at first thought someone was trying to lift the money bag off him. Haugan was a small town, but travelers passed through, often desperate for money or thinking they could skip town and never be caught after taking advantage of one of the locals. He couldn't be too careful.

  He reached for the door handle and his nighttime rebel said, "Swiss?"

  The insecurity in her voice stopped him. He turned around. "Yeah?"

  "You're right. It's the middle of the night, and it's dark." She remained on the sidewalk. "I apologize for pointing my gun at you. You startled me."

  He moistened his lips and gazed around her. The whole town slept. The houses along the street remained dark, and they were the only two awake and outside.

  "No harm done. You can't be too careful," said Swiss, taking in the silence.

  While moving in or not, a female shouldn't be out at three o'clock in the morning by herself. Even the town of Haugan had its good and bad areas where a woman should pay attention to curfew. He preferred to stay in the south part of town where most of the petty crime happened because he found it easier in the chaos to mind his own business. But, there were meth-heads, heroin users, and men who would think nothing of taking advantage of a woman alone.

  "Why don't you wrap up what you're doing and catch some sleep until the sun comes up. That way you're not startled anymore if you happen to run into someone when you're going out to your car." He opened the door, reached inside and flipped the outside light hanging above him on.

  The light temporarily blinded her and gave him time to see who pulled a pistol on him.