All Of His Secrets (Choices: Tarkio MC Book 4) Read online

  All Of His Secrets

  Choices: Tarkio MC series, Book 4

  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.

  All Of His Secrets

  Choices: Tarkio MC series, Book 4

  1st release: Copyright© 2020 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 ONLY. No part of this 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

  Chapter 1 | 1980 | Rick

  Chapter 2 | Tracy

  Chapter 3 | Rick

  Chapter 4 | Tracy

  Chapter 5 | Rick

  Chapter 6 | Tracy

  Chapter 7 | Tracy

  Chapter 8 | Rick

  Chapter 9 | Tracy

  Chapter 10 | Rick

  Chapter 11 | Rick

  Chapter 12 | Tracy

  Chapter 13 | Rick

  Chapter 14 | Tracy

  Chapter 15 | Tracy

  Chapter 16 | Tracy

  Chapter 17 | Rick

  Chapter 18 | Rick

  Chapter 19 | Tracy

  Chapter 20 | Rick

  Chapter 21 | Tracy

  Chapter 22 | Rick

  Chapter 23 | Tracy

  Chapter 24 | Rick

  Chapter 25 | Tracy

  Chapter 26 | Rick

  Chapter 27 | Tracy

  Chapter 28 | Rick

  Chapter 29 | Tracy

  Chapter 30 | Tracy

  Chapter 31 | Rick

  Chapter 32 | Tracy

  Chapter 33 | Tracy

  Chapter 34 | Tracy

  Chapter 35 | Rick

  Chapter 36 | Tracy

  Chapter 37 | Rick

  Chapter 38 | Rick

  Chapter 39 | Tracy

  Chapter 40 | Rick

  Epilogue

  Author Bio

  Debra Kayn's Backlist

  Sneak Peek | Every Little Piece of Him | Book 1, Escape to the Bitteroot Mountains series

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Dedication

  Thank you for the book love, the support, and making this job as an author so pleasurable...

  Donelda Ramirez

  Hannah Garcia

  Maria Passia

  Wanda McElrath Posey

  Janet Lavallee Ruth

  ___________

  ~ This book is dedicated to Ebonie Holden ~

  May all those who loved you, remember you in all the beauty surrounding them.

  Rest in peace, beautiful girl.

  Everyone has a reason why they joined a motorcycle club.

  This is Rick and Tracy's story.

  Chapter 1

  1980

  Rick

  A car zoomed past Rick Nolan on Interstate 90, ignoring his thumb. He lowered his hand to his side and kept walking along the side of the highway. The small piece of paper slipped to him in prison instructed him to take Exit 99. From there, he'd need to go two miles south to the address his cellmate, Nate had given him.

  It'd taken him four days of hitchhiking to go two hundred miles. The blisters on his feet had popped yesterday, and the raw spots rubbed against the white prison-issued slip-on sneakers given to him upon his release from Montana State Prison.

  The hum of traffic approaching behind him grew louder. He stuck out his thumb, putting one foot in front of the other. Beyond the point that if he stopped, he wasn't sure he'd be able to walk again because of the condition of his feet.

  He focused on the distance ahead of him. There were only two more exits to go.

  A pickup passed him in the right-hand lane. Brake lights flashed, and the vehicle slowed, pulling off to the side of the road, out of the way of traffic. Rick gritted his teeth against the pain encompassing his feet and walked faster.

  Going up to the passenger side, he stuck his head in the open window. "Can I get a ride to Missoula?"

  "Hop in the back. I'm going as far as the airport. When you want to get out, knock on the window." The older man lifted his chin. "Hunker down. It's getting windy."

  He planted his foot on the tire and heaved himself into the bed of the truck. Sweat broke out on his head as pain shot up his legs. Thankful when the driver reentered traffic, and the breeze dried his face, he closed his eyes at the relief of being off his feet, knowing in ten minutes he'd have to find the strength to jump out at his destination.

  Fuck, he was tired. He hadn't found time to ground himself on the outside.

  For the last seven years, his body had adapted to the prison system schedule. He had no idea how the world had changed and what was waiting for him.

  All he could do was follow the directions he'd memorized from the piece of paper he'd flushed in the toilet in his cell before the guards caught him. With his luck, he'd show up at the address and have a gun pointed at his head.

  At least then, his suffering would be over. He would no longer feel his damn feet.

  The truck shifted, slowing down. Prying his eyes open, he squinted at the passing pine trees lining the landscape. Turning his head, he figured the driver had taken the exit he needed. From the directions, he only had to go two miles. The closer he could get, the less time he had to spend on his feet.

  As businesses started lining the road and the truck's speed stayed at a lower limit, he pulled up his knees and put the soles of his feet on the bed of the pickup, getting ready to move.

  Catching sight of a street sign, he was close. Only two more blocks to go.

  He knocked on the window. By the time the driver pulled to a stop, he was on the street where he needed to be. He pulled himself over the side of the bed and let his body slide down the metal until his feet hit the ground.

  "Jesus Christ," he muttered on a hiss of pain.

  Not sure he would remain standing once the truck wasn't there to hold on to, he grunted. Digging deep, he let go.

  Lifting his gaze, he caught the driver's gaze in the side mirror and lifted his hand in thanks. The truck engine revved. Rick straightened and remained on the side of the road.

  His feet pounded, matching his heart rate. In the past, he'd been beaten, close to death, and had always mustered enough strength to survive. Broken bones, lacerations, the skin ripped off his body hadn't killed him. He couldn't let his feet take him out of living.

  He had one more thing he wanted to do before he died.

  Yet as he stood at the side of the road, his swollen feet, raw and bleeding, he had a deep urge to let his body hit the ground and close his eyes.

  He blinked, focusing on the buildings close by. The address Nate gave him was across the street.

  Waiting until the break between cars passing in front of him grew longer, allowing him more time, he stepped off the sidewalk and jaywalked across the road. Each step his last.

  The one-story building had no sign of people around. The front window to the right of the door was boarded up and painted the same dull yellow as the rest of the place.

  He hoped Nate hadn't sent him on a wild goose chase.

  Even though he'd spent two years in the same cell as Nate, he'd never allowed himself to trust anyone.

  But he had no options.

  He had nowhere to go upon release, and when Nate gave him the address, he'd taken the help. His only other option would've been to go to one of the halfway houses offered by the state. He'd rather be homeless than have his freedom stripped away again.

  Sweat rolled down his temples. He approached the door, grabbing the frame. Sucking in air, he raised his fist and beat on the wood. If there was nobody about, he was going to lower himself to the ground and stay right here until someone showed.

  Raising his hand again, he banged on the door. His vision went in and out. He pressed his forehead against the wood and closed his eyes. He needed water.

  The building disappeared in front of him. The pressure against his head went away. Sensing himself falling, he let himself go.

  He welcomed the blackness. The peace.

  Chapter 2

  Tracy

  Tracy Greer rushed into Tarkio Motorcycle Clubhouse. Out of breath and nervous, she looked around for Priest. He'd called two hours ago, but she had to wait until her lunchtime at Lainier's Towing to come over.

  Paco, one of the members, bounced a tennis ball against the far wall, ignoring Ruth and Barbie making out with Curley on the couch. She went straight to Paco, making him miss the ball.

  "Where's Priest?"

  "Why?" Paco grabbed her arms and guided her to the other side of him and pressed her back against the wall. "Stay."

  He grabbed the ball. "Catch it on the first bounce."

  "I'm not playing." She caught it and refused to give the ball back. "I
need to talk to Priest. It's important."

  Paco crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong?"

  "Everything, if you don't answer me."

  "He's with Joyce in Frank's room, but don't go in there."

  "Why not?"

  Paco wiggled his brows. "Last I saw he had her handcuffed to the bed."

  She groaned, it was impossible to talk to the bikers without them having sex with women, riding their motorcycles, or half looped from partying. "Can you get him for me?"

  "Nope." Paco studied her. "How old are you now?"

  She rolled her eyes. He'd asked the same question since she turned twelve years old. Besides him being way older than her and a close friend to her brother, there was no way she'd spend two minutes alone with him. Not when he was like the other Tarkio members and only thought with his dick.

  "Not old enough for you." She threw him the ball. "What do you know about the guy that showed up at the clubhouse?"

  "Who wants to know?"

  Growing frustrated and running out of time before she was due back at work, she said, "Priest called and left a message at work for Jerry and said the guy who was in prison with Whip had shown up. I want to know where he is."

  "Nah, you're not going to hang around anyone without a Tarkio patch, kiddo. Your brother will kill me when he gets released if I let you." He frowned. "Besides, you know nothing about the dude."

  "He saved Whip's life. That's all I need to know."

  Six months ago, other inmates that hated Tarkio Motorcycle Club cornered her brother while on kitchen duty. Whip's cellmate had stepped in and taken the knife intended to kill her brother, and he'd gotten stabbed in the process. That wasn't a little thing to her. The guy had saved Whip's life.

  In return, her brother had urged the man to go to Tarkio when he got released, and they'd help him get back on his feet as payment for protecting Whip. She knew he was here because Priest had called and left a message with her to give to Jerry—who was going to offer the man a job.

  But, it was her brother that he'd saved. She wanted to thank him.

  Seeing Paco wouldn't budge and give her more information, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I have to go back to work."

  She left through the front door and ran around the building. It was the middle of the day and barely anyone around. If she waited until after work, she'd never get a chance to talk to the man.

  She didn't even know his name or what he looked like, but it couldn't be too hard to find him if he was staying at the clubhouse.

  Checking the backdoor and finding it unlocked, she slipped inside. Paco, figuring out her intention, stood at the corner of the hallway and threw the ball at her. She ignored it and opened the first door. Empty.

  "You're going to get in trouble with Priest," said Paco.

  "Only if you tell him." She opened the next door.

  Paco marched over and slammed it, ripping the handle out of her hand. A door on the other side of the hallway opened, and Priest walked out, shirtless and interrupted from his noon-time entertainment.

  "What the hell is going on out here?" Priest latched his belt.

  "Where's Whip's cellmate?" she asked.

  He pointed two doors down. "What do you need him for?"

  "I want to thank him." She crossed her arms. "He got hurt bad when he saved Whip, and my brother told me I could talk to him."

  Okay, the last part was a lie.

  Whip had told her to mind her own business, but her brother was her business.

  "Go ahead. He's in bad shape. I doubt if he'll wake up long enough to realize you're in the room." Priest looked to Paco. "Stay in the hallway in case she yells for help."

  Priest walked back inside the room. She got a glance of Ruth facedown on the bed with her hands cuffed behind her back. A typical Wednesday afternoon at Tarkio clubhouse.

  Not wasting any more time, she went to the bedroom where the stranger slept and opened the door. Shutting herself quietly in the room, she ambled toward the bed.

  The first thing she noticed was his size. He took up most of the bed, and his feet hung off the mattress.

  She grimaced, looking longer at his bare feet. The swollen, red skin peeled away from his body. There were blisters filled with yellow fluid across his heels and on the ball of his left foot.

  Inching closer, she couldn't tell what kind of shape the rest of him was in, only that the white T-shirt stretched across broad shoulders, and the part of his stomach that showed appeared solid and toned.

  He moaned and moved his head. His long, brown hair covered the pillow. She looked down his body again. His hand, stuffed under his waistband, remained still.

  She slowly sat on the edge of the bed. Like most of the men she knew, he wore a beard, but his was long, unkempt, and going in all different directions—but maybe that's because he messed up the whiskers when he slept.

  She reached up, and without touching his face, straightened part of the beard. His brows lowered, and she jerked away.

  It would help if she knew his name.

  He had a scar on his forehead, and she wondered if he received that in Whip's attack. She leaned closer. The blemish looked aged and had turned a pale skin color, almost white, not pink at all. It must be an older wound.

  He groaned, rolling his head on the pillow. She stiffened, not wanting to get caught checking him out while he slept.

  Her heart raced, and her mouth grew dry. She rubbed her hands together in worry. She knew Whip wanted Priest to offer the man a job at Lainier's Towing, and she could wait to thank him for saving her brother. But she also knew he was alone, fresh out of prison, and everyone here was a stranger to him.

  While she wasn't a familiar face—she hadn't met him—they both knew her brother and had that in common. She felt obligated to help him adjust to having his freedom back.

  "Hello?" she whispered.

  God, she was nervous. Her whole life, she'd had Tarkio members around her. A lot of them looked meaner and scarier than the man in the bed, who was handsome in a rough way, but because he was a stranger, she was leery being in the same room as him.

  "I-I'm Whip's sister. I just wanted to thank you for saving his life," she whispered, waiting to see if he'd wake up. "You don't look like you feel well..."

  She swallowed. "Your feet, I mean. The rest of you looks..."

  Sighing, she closed her mouth. She sounded like a dork.

  Since finding out that Whip was sending the man to Tarkio, she'd thought of ways she could thank him. Usually, when men returned from prison, the women who hung around the clubhouse would have sex with them to make up for all the time they went without physical touch on the inside. She'd convinced herself that she would offer herself to the man if he wanted.

  But seeing him, helpless and not feeling well, her bravery fled. She wasn't one to sleep around. Priest wouldn't allow it, and it wasn't her thing, anyway.

  Several minutes passed, and he still hadn't woken up. She leaned closer. Maybe when he finally stopped sleeping, he'd remember that she was here. Then, if he wanted her, she could give him a blow job or something later. She wasn't sure what was expected of her, but she owed him.

  Whip was the only family member she had left. If she would've lost her brother, she'd have no one.

  "Thank you for saving my brother's life," she whispered again.

  Hands grabbed her. She squeaked in surprise. The air whooshed out of her lungs as the man pulled her onto the bed and pinned her under his body.

  Her heart hammered in her chest, and her first thought was that she should've worn more clothes. It was normal for her to wear a tank top with her shorts at the office when it was hot outside.

  His hand landed on her chest. She froze. Underneath the gentleness of him kneading her breast, his hand shook.

  The poor man had been in prison for years. He hadn't touched a woman in a long time.

  Her nipples peaked, and a shiver settled between her legs. Maybe she could help him.

  Chapter 3

  Rick

  A soft, warm breast filled Rick's hand. He squeezed. The hardness of a nipple pressed between his index and middle finger. He moved, feeling the curves of a woman underneath him

  Spreading the silky legs, he lowered his body and a hand pressed against his chest, stopping him.