by Debra Kayn
Chief muttered, "Damn, son."
"Ashley's innocent. She had no idea anything was going on around her until a twelve hours ago when I told her what I'd found out. She wasn't going back there. I was going to make sure no one found out she unknowingly had her hands on the books."
"What's the connection between Krondy and the guy named Lester that was referred to Brikken through Shechanics?" asked Chief
"None that I know of." He looked at his father. "But, I don't know how far Krondy will roll if looking at twenty-five years to life. He could throw anyone under the bus."
"Brikken protected him each time one of us went to prison. We never gave up information on the supplier."
Jett approached Chief and Olin. "Do you think the Feds can go deep into Krondy's business and find us?"
He gazed at the house, unable to think. "I don't know right now."
"I'm going to get a semi in and clean out the garage and cover Brikken." Jett pulled out his phone and typed on the screen.
Olin hoped Ashley could feel him outside. She needed to stay strong and wait the Feds out. They'd get tired of questioning her eventually, and if she gave them nothing, they'd need to regroup away from here and try another angle.
"There's activity by the vehicle in front. We need to move our asses back." Chief hooked Olin's elbow.
He rocked to the balls of his feet, stopping Chief from moving him, as figures came out of the house and appeared under the porch light. Clustered between four agents, a shorter, thinner person wearing a long red T-shirt with a pile of wild hair pinned to the top of her head walked awkwardly toward the vehicle.
Ashley came into focus, her head frantically moving, searching. Scared.
"No," he mouthed, his pulse accelerating.
Chief's hand kept him from going more than a foot forward. He roared, busting forward, freeing himself. Rage filled him, and he ran, reaching behind him for the pistol tucked in his waistband.
He wouldn't let them take her from him.
Footsteps came from behind him. He stared at Ashley being guided away from him as he ran.
Her head disappeared below the roof of the car. Fury grabbed his chest.
"Ash," he yelled, energy propelling him forward. "Ash—"
Tackled from behind, his body skidded against the asphalt. He opened his mouth to yell for Ashley, and a broad, rough hand covered his mouth, locking his head in a vice.
He struggled under the weight. Needing to get to Ashley, he wouldn't allow anything or anyone to stop him. She needed to stay with him. He couldn't lose her.
He'd promised her his life. They were going to be a family. Forever.
"God damnit, son," hissed Chief in Olin's ear. "You're not going to do her any good getting yourself shot."
He tried to arch off the ground, but his father laid on top of him. Unable to move his head or speak from his covered mouth, he bellowed in anger, bucking to get his arms underneath him.
"Jett, move his fucking bike out of the road," said Chief.
"Can you hold him?"
"I've got him."
Vehicles in the distance started. He fought Chief, needing to stop the agents before they stole Ashley from him.
The pressure on his neck tightened. He lost peripheral vision as darkness hovered on the edges.
Chief's mouth pressed against Olin's ear. "Sorry, son. I'm not going to let you die today."
The tightness increased, digging into the side of his neck. Olin, aware of the sleeper hold, lost consciousness before he could figure out how to break free and save Ashley.
Part 2
Chapter Twenty
"OPEN YOUR MOUTH."
Ashley stood naked against the concrete block wall inside the Washington Corrections Center for Women. With her arms crossed over her breasts and her thighs squeezed together, she opened her mouth.
"Lift your tongue." The female guard pointed a flashlight at her.
Doing as instructed, she refused to look to her left or right where the other female inmates were lined up going through the same inspection. She'd been transported with the women in a bus from Tacoma County jail to WCCW after her sentencing.
Her head buzzed.
The jury found her guilty for falsifying insurance claims and having knowledge of stolen goods. She'd received a thirty-six-month sentence.
Three years.
She couldn't do it.
Her stomach gnawed remembering the days of sitting on the chair as the prosecuting attorney grilled her about her involvement with Shechanics.
Her attorney—paid for by Brikken—informed her Willa and Elissa both received two 15-year sentences back to back for a total of thirty years for having received sixty-three thousand dollars of stolen goods in their possession.
"Turn around, spread your legs, and squat," ordered the guard.
She pivoted, closed her eyes, and followed the directions. Over the last three months, she'd been inspected so many times, she'd lost count. The guards used any excuse to check for contraband. Any time she was transported to the courthouse or moved from one pod to the next, she was stripped and searched.
This last move to WCCW would be her last. The woman's correctional center would be her home for the next three years.
"Cough," said the guard.
She coughed.
"Stand up and get dressed."
Lightheaded, she picked up the white t-shirt and pulled it over her head. They wouldn't even allow her a bra. Once her account was approved for commissions, the game warden informed her she could purchase an approved one. She pulled on the orange drawstring scrub pants and slipped her bare feet into the plastic slippers.
"Move over and get your cup." The guard stepped away.
She walked over to the side of the room where a nurse handed her a plastic cup for collecting her urine, even though all her tests came back negative for drug use.
Once she'd peed in the cup, she got back in line.
Another female guard came up to Ashley. "You are inmate 57301. You'll be assigned to Pod B. Pick up your bundle and line up at the white door."
She stepped over and picked up the rolled pad. Inside, she was allowed one roll of toilet paper, a prison-issued spoon, her paperwork with her pin number—which when activated, she could use the phone, video chat, and order from commissions.
Her rapid breathing dried her lips that were already chapped and sore from living through three months of hell. She missed her old life.
Her sister.
Johanna.
Her mom.
Even her dad.
She shut her thoughts off before she could dwell on anyone else, having learned that she couldn't go there. She couldn't think about him. She couldn't want him. She couldn't feel. She couldn't think. She couldn't let herself want more.
She couldn't.
She couldn't.
She couldn't.
The security beep sounded, and the guard opened the door. She walked forward, uncaring which of the other women were going to the same pod. They were not friends or acquaintances. They were females who had nothing to live for and would take out someone else for a tampon or an extra helping on their lunch tray.
Down two corridors, the guard opened the only door on Pod B. The jeers of the other inmates already settled in the area taunted the newcomers as they walked in. The loud noises charged with anger and tension deafened Ashley for a moment. She had no idea if she'd survive.
She'd never hit anyone in her life. The closest she'd been to fighting was when she pushed Bobby Gainer down in third grade for stealing her rock when she was playing hopscotch at recess.
She held her prison-issued bundle in front of her and kept her eyes forward. Charles Devonport, her attorney, suggested she not show weakness or go into a new section with attitude. The advice was for her safety.
"Inmate number 57301, you're in cell four, upper level," said a voice in her ear.
Ashley looked up the steel-grated stairs. Her stomach cramped. Walking for
ward, she ignored the aggressive comments aimed at her and took each step out of the habit of following directions rather than from courage.
She wanted to throw up.
A big woman stood in the doorway of Ashley's assigned cell, arms crossed, T-shirt sleeves rolled over her thick upper arms.
She stopped in front of her. "Excuse me."
The woman spread her arms out to the sides of her and pressed against the wall, daring Ashley to come in the room. She squeezed by her, careful not to smack the woman with the bundle she carried.
Two other women, one young, sleeping on a lower bunk, had a tattooed, shaved head. The other one looked to be about thirty-ish and sat on the top bunk. She spotted the vacant top bunk and assumed she'd be sleeping above the big woman standing guard.
Great.
Just, great.
She heaved her bundle up on the steel frame they expected her to sleep on for the next three years. The roll of toilet paper she was given rolled off the bed and onto the floor.
The door to their cell shut. Ashley jolted, trying to ignore the dangers.
Between the hours of seven o'clock in the morning and nine o'clock at night, inmates were free to go from their cell to the common area in Pod B. At the county jail, they'd warned her that the women were tough at the state level. That they'd judge, threaten, and use her.
"What are you in for?"
Ashley turned around and found the big woman looking at her, expecting an answer. Knowing it would do her no good to explain how she was innocent, she said, "Insurance fraud."
The younger woman rolled over on the bunk and opened her eyes. "How long did you get?"
"Thirty-six months." She picked up the toilet paper.
The big woman held out her hand. "I'll take that."
Ashley held the roll against her side. "It's the only one I have. I'm keeping it."
"Call it your dues for being in the room, under my protection," said the woman.
"Let her be." The tatted woman slid off her bunk and held out her hand. "They call me Bobo. That over there is Georgia. Stay out of her way, and you'll be fine. That one there goes by the name Fried, cause she left her child in the car with the windows up."
"Fuck off, Bobo." Fried rolled off the bunk and left the room, leaving the door open.
Bobo leaned in. "You carrying?"
"Carrying?" Ashley continued facing the women, afraid of turning her back.
"Pills, dope, tar?" Bobo rubbed her hands together.
She shook her head, unable to imagine how anyone could get drugs into the prison with the many searches and the consequences if caught.
"Ten bucks a week or three lunch trays and I'll make sure none of the inmates in the pod bother you." Georgia sniffed and pursed her lips. "I'll protect you."
I'll protect you.
I'll protect you.
I'll protect you.
Ashley shook off the reaction to those familiar and comforting words and said, "No, thanks."
She stepped up on the lower bunk and using all her strength climbed up to her bed. Not an easy feat, she laid down facing the wall and panted for breath from the exertion.
There was no way to tell what time it was.
The bus had picked her up before the sun was up and check-in took hours. Her stomach gurgled in upset, and she curled into a ball, wanting to die.
Chapter Twenty One
The nut busted off the bolt. Olin grabbed another one and using the ratchet, connected the muffler to the frame.
"Roll it out, boys," Olin yelled, stepping back and hanging up the hose. "Shift is over."
He picked up the tools he'd used the last six hours, put them away, and walked out of the garage. In four hours, he'd do it all again. The less time he had at home, missing Ashley and not being able to do a damn thing to get her out of prison, the better off he'd be.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and D-Con said, "A few of us are riding out to that diner off the old highway to grab breakfast. Why don't you come?"
"Got things to do." He reached his bike.
D-Con hung back. "Nothing from Ashley yet?"
He glared at his MC brother, irritated that D-Con would even speak Ashley's name. It was nobody's business if he'd heard from her or not.
Devonport, the attorney on retainer for Brikken, had told him to expect a call last week after Ashley was transferred to the women's correctional center. He sat his Harley and pulled on his riding gloves. He'd yet to hear from her.
His hands were tied when it came to communicating with her. He couldn't call. She had to phone him.
The last three months were hell while Ashley went to trial. Devonport forbid him from coming and supporting her. Not that the attorney could stop him since it was open to the public, but he understood the reasons.
The defense lawyer wanted to keep the Brikken name out of Ashley's case. She had enough against her, adding her connection to him and the club would only harm her in the end.
He expected her to call the moment she was placed in the penitentiary. She was under medium security, in a pod, and in return, he could supply her with enough money to talk to him all day over the phone if she wanted.
The only thing keeping him from wreaking havoc in the world was that Ashley hadn't called Lindsay or her mom either. That fact alone worried him. Ashley wasn't cut out for prison life.
"Take it easy, man. I'll catch you later." D-Con studied him a few seconds longer than normal and walked away to join the other riders going out for breakfast.
Olin watched them go. He had no purpose in his life. Everything he wanted was locked away.
He put on his helmet, started his motorcycle, and rode past the others toward the gate. Halfway to the fence, his cell vibrated in his pocket. He slammed on his brake and balancing the bike between his legs, reached into his jeans. The only reason he felt the vibration while riding was because he purposely carried a small tin of coins next to the phone to amplify the vibration so he wouldn't miss an incoming call.
The prison's name came up on the screen. Sweat broke out on his skin.
He connected the call. "Hello?"
"This is the Washington Corrections Center for Women. Inmate Ashley Thompson is placing a debit call. Do we have permission to connect the call?" said the recorded female voice.
"Yes." He cleared his sore throat.
"Olin?" whispered Ashley.
"I'm here, Ash." He hung his head as her broken voice washed through him. "Right here."
"I..."
He pressed his thumb and finger against his eyes, cut deeply by the crying he heard over the connection. "It's okay. Just hold on and breathe. You've got me. I'm right here."
Chief and Jett had run off a long list of details he should tell Ashley to help ease her stay and the pressure to tell her everything, drill it into her head, pressed down on his shoulders. And yet, all he wanted to do was hear her sweet voice and to hear that she was okay.
"I miss you so much. I needed you during the trial and looked for you. I-I don't want to be here," whispered Ashley.
He exhaled painfully. "I know, Ash."
"Is this really you?"
He ran his hand down his face. "It's me."
"Are you okay? You sound weird."
Staring off into nothing, barber chaired with emotions that she worried about him while sitting in prison, he said, "I'm full of regrets, Ash. I should've done something before any of this shit happened."
"It's not your fault," she whispered.
"You're going to survive this. You need to put in a form with a list of who can have visitation with you. Put my name on it. Put your sister, your mom, and anyone else you want to come and see you. There can be five people at a time. Because you're in a women's prison and it's your first stay, you're allowed more visitations. I'll be there every single time."
"Okay."
"Devonport will be putting money on your account from me." His thoughts came fast and frantic. "You keep what's in your JPay account secret.
Don't give it away or let others talk you into borrowing, Ash. It's dangerous. You don't want to owe anyone, but I want that money in there so you can call me whenever you are allotted time out of your cell."
"I know."
"Ash, you fight for yourself as hard as you fought for me all these years. You hear me? Dig deep and take one day at a time. You call me, call your sister, call whoever, and do what you have to do to make sure you stay strong." His chest filled with air. "Baby, you're thirty minutes from me. I will stand outside and fire shots into the air to make sure you know I'm here if that's what I need to do. Right here. I'm not going anywhere."
"Don't say that." She sniffed. "When can you visit me?"
"As soon as I get clearance, I can come on Sundays, Mondays, Fridays, and Saturdays." Adrenaline spiked through him, and he toed his kickstand, needing to sit down. "You can do this, Ash."
"Olin?" She paused. "I lost everything."
"No, you didn't."
"My job, my life, you," she said.
"I'm here, and everyone else will be here when you get out. I promise you."
The recorded voice broke into the conversation warning them of three minutes remaining. He squeezed his eyes shut. The prison limited conversations to fifteen minutes.
"I want to call you right back, but I don't want the other inmates seeing me hanging out around the phone," she whispered.
"I'll be here whenever you need me." His throat closed up. "Love you, Ash."
Several empty seconds passed. "I...I can't do this."
"Yes, you can."
"I need to go."
"Okay. Fill out a form and get visitations taken care of."
"I will. Bye," she said softly.
The call disconnected. He stared down at the cell phone. For several minutes he had her again.
Then, he lost her. Again.