THORN (A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga Book 4) Read online

  THORN

  Book 4

  A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga

  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.

  THORN

  A Brikken Motorcycle Club Saga

  1st Digital release: Copyright© 2018 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

  Part 1 | 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

  Part 2 | 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

  Part 3 | Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Author Bio

  Debra Kayn's Backlist

  Sneak Peek | ...or something | Ronacks Motorcycle Club series | —available at all retailers— | Chapter One

  Dedication

  To Family

  Part 1

  Chapter One

  OVER THE LOUD MUSIC rolling out of the clubhouse, a wounded cry broke up the night. Thorn straightened from leaning against the building and tilted his head, straining to hear. He'd heard the same soulful scream on and off over the last four years.

  There were no houses near the boundaries of Brikken Motorcycle Club property for foreign noise to reach his ears. Chief, his father, and Johanna lived across the creek behind the clubhouse, but his little sisters were long past the age of crying.

  The sound had to be from a bird or maybe a rabbit. He tilted his head the other way. Or, maybe the screams of his past were coming back to him.

  Whatever made the noise left him on edge. The shrill wail followed by sniffling sobs, familiar to those he'd heard from his nieces and nephews, was enough to get his attention earlier and draw him back outside.

  His skin prickled and his senses hummed in intensity. It was almost like someone was watching him.

  Soft thumping footsteps added to the mix. He jerked his gaze to the right.

  Johanna stepped fully around the corner of the clubhouse. She pressed her hand to her chest and gave an embarrassed laugh. "God, Thorn. I thought you were Chief standing there. What are you doing out here by yourself?"

  Ignoring her question, he asked, "Do you hear that?"

  "What?" She flipped her hair to the side and looked around the field. "The song?"

  His chest tightened. Tired of feeling like he was losing his fucking mind, he leaned against the side of the building again and muttered, "It's probably nothing."

  Johanna put her hand on his arm. "Are you okay?"

  "Yep." He lifted his chin. "Chief's inside if you're looking for him."

  "He called me a few minutes ago." Johanna sighed. "He wants Jackie out of there."

  "It's a rough night. The men are blowing off some steam." He hooked his thumbs under his belt. His little sister by Chief and Johanna was old enough to be around the parties and too young to trust her judgment toward the men inside letting loose. "It's best she gets out of there."

  Johanna squeezed his arm and walked off toward the front door of the clubhouse. He stayed outside because he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. With three hundred and fifty-eight Brikken members milling around twenty-four/seven, he couldn't understand why no one had picked up on something wrong over the last four years.

  He rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe he was losing his fucking mind, but he wasn't going to let his guard down or let an enemy walk onto the property.

  He'd make sure the club remained safe. His father. His brothers. The Brikken officers. None of those in charge of the club were shut in the slammer, and he planned on keeping them and himself free.

  The heat was always on them by the Feds. His due diligence kept the agents from linking the chopped bikes back to Brikken on a recent raid, but that wouldn't stop law enforcement from keeping eyes on all of the members.

  Pushing off the building, he walked out to the gate, taking the hundred yards to listen and look around. He'd almost convinced himself that he'd imagined the crying but his skin continued to crawl.

  Someone was out there. Watching. He'd stake his life on it.

  Freddy sat on his Harley and lifted his chin as Thorn approached. "You're not on guard tonight."

  "No." He stopped a few feet away. "Just stretching my legs."

  "It's a sad world getting old." Freddy chuckled. "Hell, you're still a kid. I have six or seven years on you. My best friend is my bike seat."

  "Yeah, I hear you." He used the different position to look around the vehicles parked across the field.

  He was forty-eight years old. His years of riding the seat, working with his hands on the motorcycles Brikken manufactured from stolen parts and resold to an organization down in California had put scars on his body and worn the ligaments down in almost every damn joint in his body.

  Not to mention the women, the drinking, and fights.

  "Have you seen anything tonight?" he asked.

  "I've seen a lot of ass." Freddy whistled softly. "As soon as my time at the gate is up, I plan on heading in there and getting a piece."

  It wasn't the answer he wanted. He walked off, drawn to the cars of the non-members at the party.

  "Thorn," called Freddy. "Looks like you should go in and wear off some of that tension you're carrying."

  "Right." He lifted his hand in acknowledgment that he'd heard the advice. There were enough women inside at the open party, he'd have no trouble finding someone new. Lately, even the bitches he'd played with, who came looking for a good time, weren't doing it for him. He needed something different. Something besides the women who wanted his dick because he was a Stanton and hoped to work their way inside Brikken.

  Everyone around Tacoma knew that Rollo, his grandfather, had built Brikken from the ground up. Chief h
ad taken over the club after an enemy had taken out Rollo. Five years or so ago, his father stepped down and handed the president's patch to his oldest brother, Jett. That put his other brother, Olin, as the vice president, and Thorn as Sergeant of Arms—a role Chief groomed him for since he was a child.

  Halfway to the front door of the clubhouse, he heard the cry again. Without stopping, he turned and stormed out into the field. Walking between the cars in the dark, he blocked out all other sounds and strained to hear the high-pitched noise.

  Enough was enough. If it were a rabbit, he'd shoot the damn thing and put the mystery to bed.

  In the third row of vehicles, he heard the cry again and jogged over to the next row. Too far away from the clubhouse for the floodlight to help him search, he walked into the darkness. Moving slowly, he squinted, barely able to see anything but shadows.

  Using his hand on the hoods of the vehicles to guide him, he walked the line. The cries only happened when there was a party and when the gate was opened to outsiders. As he reached the end of the string of cars, he moved to the back row. Members often parked their personal vehicle at the clubhouse, preferring to ride their motorcycle back and forth from Brikken to home. Occasionally, the club required those members to do business that called for using four wheels.

  At the back corner of the field, he stood still, slowing his breathing. He couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling that he was missing something important.

  Attuned at protecting Brikken, he remained in the back of the field by himself unwilling to leave. There was too much at stake with the current raid fresh on his mind.

  The club represented everything his family had invested time, money, blood in. Taught to honor Rollo and everything he wanted for the club, he'd learned long ago to pay attention to when something wasn't right.

  And, something was fucking wrong.

  He walked back down the last row of vehicles. The same old cars, beaters on a good day. Non-descript, worthless, and perfect for when members were needed to be in and out of a dangerous situation without notice. Every day, the cars were there in plain sight. He'd grown accustomed to seeing them.

  The high-pitched cry came from in front of him. Louder than he'd ever heard before.

  "Come on, keep going," he muttered, tilting his head to hear better, and moved forward.

  The sound stopped.

  He stopped.

  An animal would lay down and die if faced with fear rather than call out in pain and show weakness. The strength to thrive inbred in them, much like being born a Stanton.

  He ran his hand over the hood of the car beside him. Whatever made the sound must be near. Not wanting to give up his position, he held still and waited. Eventually, the animal would feel confident that the danger had passed and give its location away.

  A rumble came from the front of the clubhouse. He blocked out the sound of the motorcycle, straining to hear.

  Focused on hearing another cry, he ignored the shift of the vehicle under his palm. Irritated at the intrusions, he only realized that a sign of what was out there had happened when the car slightly moved again.

  He stepped between the two vehicles and squinted, looking through the passenger side window into the dark interior as he gripped the door handle, feeling a pull toward an unknown source that had tormented him for the last four years.

  A pungent odor burned his nose at opening the door. He reached to his lower back, wrapping his fingers around the pistol tucked under his belt. Punched by the strong stench, he pushed forward and stuck his head inside the vehicle.

  His eyes teared. Ammonia.

  He stuck his head over the seat and peered into the back of the older two-door, finding a small child staring at him from the floor of the car. His head struck the roof of the vehicle, and he let go of his pistol.

  "Hey, there," he whispered.

  The child whined. His heart raced, recognizing the sound and trying to put together how in the hell he'd heard that noise for four fucking years.

  He sniffed at the onslaught of snot filling his nostrils from the burning air. "How about you climb out of the car and stand outside."

  The crying grew louder. Unable to keep breathing, he pushed away and straightened, inhaling the night air. What the hell was a child doing in the car alone?

  He pulled out his phone and called Jett. As soon as his brother answered, he said, "Come out to the field. Back row."

  "Just me?"

  "Yep." He ducked his head and looked at the child. "Have someone find Ed Talbot and make sure he doesn't leave until I've talked to you."

  He disconnected the phone call, knowing he needed to take the child out of the car, away from the stank of urine. She had to have been pissing herself for quite a while for the odor to burn his eyes and lungs.

  Hell, it'd been four years since he first heard the mysterious noise only he could hear. It wasn't possible for her to live in the car that long. Not at her age. Not on Brikken land. But, he had no other thought.

  He wasn't fucking crazy. He'd heard her off and on for that long.

  Talbot, a member of Brikken and the owner of the car, had a lot of explaining to do.

  Holding his breath, he reached in and scooped the child out of the car. He set the kid down and squatted beside her.

  "Ah, there you go. It smells better out here, yeah?" He wiped his wet hands on his jeans.

  Soaked to the skin, wearing only a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, the little girl whined. He cupped her cheek, hoping to sooth her. She appeared around his niece Linnea's age. Too young to be in school and way too young to be left alone without supervision.

  Fine blonde hair half covered the child's face. Thorn sighed in compassion. The blue eyes, upturned nose, and pouty lips were a picture of innocence.

  "What's your name, princess?" he asked.

  The girl pressed against the car parked beside Dalton's beater and opened her mouth, guttural cries escaped piercing his chest two feet away. Something was wrong.

  It wasn't the soulful wailing of a scared kid faced with a rough looking biker taking her from the security of the car. But, he couldn't put his finger on the problem. Having no kids of his own, his experience came from Chief, raising his little sisters, and his brothers, raising their kids.

  He took out his wallet and without knowing what bills he grabbed, held out some cash. "Take it."

  The girl shrank away from him, falling on her butt. He stuffed the money back in his wallet. Having never met a woman of any age who turned down money only exacerbated his concern.

  "Thorn?" said Jett behind him.

  He straightened without taking his gaze off the child. "I found her in Talbot's car. She's been in there a long time. The smell of piss almost knocked me back on my ass."

  Sensing Jett at his side, he glanced at his brother. The impact of finding the cause of his paranoia went unspoken. Until he found out why she was alone, he couldn't relax.

  "I didn't know Talbot had a kid," murmured Jett.

  Apparently, there were a lot of things about their MC brother neither Stanton men knew. Thorn blew out his breath. "Something isn't right with her."

  Jett grunted and squatted down, reaching for the kid. The child half-turned and continued the awful crying.

  "She's scared," said Thorn.

  Jett looked at him. "Talbot didn't have the kid by himself. I'll go inside and pull up his records. There will be a woman listed if the child is his. If I find a number, I'd suggest calling her and letting her know where she can pick up her kid. I've got word from Grumby that Talbot's fucking some woman upstairs and has his drink on."

  "I don't want him leaving the club." He stared at the little girl.

  He wouldn't allow any Brikken Motorcycle Club member to neglect a child.

  Looking at the little girl, his breath hitched. It was after midnight, dark, and scary, for someone her age.

  He picked up the child, ignoring the wetness, the stench, the cries, and held her to his chest. Someone was going
to pay for putting her through hell.

  Chapter Two

  The party next door leaked through the thin apartment wall. Jessy Reed flipped the page of the old Cosmo magazine a customer at Bee's Diner gave her. She'd waited until tonight to dive into her secret indulgence of high fashion and makeup tutorials she'd never use while Nikki was gone.

  Her daughter's father was hit or miss on when he wanted to see Nikki and have her spend the weekend with him. Which was nothing new. In the five years since she'd given birth, she was lucky if he made two of the four weekends out of the month.

  Her cell rang. She groaned and paused the show.

  Not recognizing the number, she connected the call anyway in case it was Ed.

  "Hello?" she said.

  "Is this Jessica Talbot?" said a gruff voice.

  Her spine stiffened at the mention of Ed's last name linked to her. Her ex-boyfriend ran with a rough crowd since they'd split before Nikki was born. Now his friends were Bikers and criminals.

  "Who is this?" She uncurled her legs from the couch and stood.

  "Thorn Stanton." He paused. "I have your daughter with me."

  Her heart hitched in her chest. "What?" she said, her voice rising. "Where's Ed?"

  "Your husband is at the Brikken Motorcycle Club clubhouse."

  Her heart pounded for her daughter. Ed had promised he'd keep Nikki with him at his rental house during his weekends. He knew their daughter needed a calm, quiet, and safe atmosphere. Somewhere that Nikki would feel secure and know her surroundings.

  She pried her tongue off the roof of her mouth. "C-can I speak with him, please?"

  "I think it'd be best if you come here and get your daughter." Thorn cleared his throat. "And, bring her some clothes."

  She pressed her hand to her throat. "Clothes?"

  "Do you know how to get to the clubhouse?" he asked.

  Panicked, she rushed around the room searching for her purse while holding the phone to her ear. "No. I don't...I need...why do you have my daughter?"

  Finding her purse, she hugged the leather bag to her chest with one arm. She needed an address. She needed someone to tell her Nikki was okay.