Rather Be Wrong: Ronacks Motorcycle Club

by Debra Kayn

  "Gia took that a week after you arrived. I didn't have any pictures of you growing up, so she's been using her phone to take pictures when we're together and having a bunch printed. That one is my favorite and I had her buy two copies. This one is going by my other picture of you when you were little, and I thought you'd like to have your own copy of us now," said her dad, in an uncharacteristic ramble. "We'll have lots of time to get more pictures of us together, but I thought this one was a good start."

  "It is a great start." She nodded. "I love it. Thank you."

  Gia rushed in and hugged her. "I got you a little something too and put it in your car. It might have to do with lace and be black and skimpy."

  "Jesus," muttered her dad.

  Rod laughed. Gia grinned.

  "Thank you." Heather inhaled deeply. All of this was too much. She needed to go home and take the time to let everything soak in.

  "Happy birthday, Heather." Her dad hugged her. "Now go take off and enjoy the rest of your day."

  "I will." She exhaled a shaky breath and stepped over to Rod who held the driver's side door of her car open for her.

  He shut the door after she sat down, bent at the waist, and braced his forearms on the frame of the car. "Buckle up."

  She tugged him closer by the shirt and kissed him. "I'll see you at home."

  Alone on the drive, she cried, laughed, and cried again. A year ago if anyone had asked her how she thought she'd be living, she never would've guessed she'd be truly happy. A happy that no longer scared her but exhilarated her.

  She pulled up to the gate and waited for Rod to park behind her and put the keycode in the panel at the gate, then she drove up the driveway. Parking in front of the garage, she popped the trunk of her car.

  Rod grabbed her hand before she could take a load of presents inside the house. "Those can wait."

  She followed him into the house, throwing her purse on the chair, and bending over and petting Girl. "You're a good dog."

  Not a day went by without her working on Girl's issues. Assured that positive reinforcement would only help in the dog's training, she'd seen a little improvement since Girl's leg healed. Girl now came to her without any urging, and she spent more time in the living room with them when they were both home instead of hiding in the spare bedroom. Girl still had her personality quirks as Heather liked to call them, but that only made her more loveable.

  She straightened and caught Rod watching her. "What?"

  "You're beautiful," he said.

  She raised her shoulder. They had the day off and could do whatever they wanted. She had a pretty good idea she wanted to spend the rest of her birthday in bed with him.

  "You're too far away." He crooked his finger at her.

  She stepped around the dog and stood in front of him. He picked up her hand. "Before I met you if anyone had asked me what I thought of having my own family, I would've told them it was something I'd never want because I spent my whole life running from mine. But through you, I've discovered family means something different. It's the people who have your back, who throw birthday parties, who stitch you up when you're hurt. It's lying in bed every night with the same women and looking forward to tomorrow because you're afraid you'll never learn everything about her even if you live with her for a hundred years."

  She couldn't breathe.

  "Heather?" Rod opened her hand and put a ring on her palm. "I want the rest of my life to be with you. I want us to be a family. Will you marry me?"

  She swayed forward. Her forehead landed on his chest. His hand came up and cupped the back of her head, and he stroked her hair with his thumb.

  "Sassy?"

  She squeezed her eyes closed. "I'm afraid to believe I heard you say what you said. That if I look at you, I'll wake up from the most perfect day I've ever had and everything you've said was only in my imagination. And if that's true, that the last two minutes was all a dream, I don't know how I'll recover."

  His chest shook with amusement. "Can you trust me?"

  She nodded against him, keeping her gaze down.

  Rod dropped to one knee and put himself directly in her line of vision. "Heather, will you marry me?"

  She threw her arms around his neck. "Yes. Yes, absolutely."

  He wrapped her in his arms and stood, carrying her through the house. She held on, in case she floated away in happiness. Her family grew bigger every day.

  Three months, one week later —

  Heather's laughter floated in the breeze in the backyard of their house. Rod lifted the cold bottle of beer to his lips and pulled a healthy swallow. It'd be the last barbecue of the year before snow forced them inside or to the clubhouse for the winter.

  Rod set the bottle between his thighs and lit a cigarette, passing the pack to Swiss. "Smoke?"

  "Thanks." Swiss lit his own and blew the smoke up into the air.

  Two weeks ago, he'd joined Swiss in a ride over to Federal, Idaho for the annual meeting with the other motorcycle clubs in the Inland Northwest. When they'd stopped at the top of Lookout Pass to check out the view and stretch their legs, he'd asked Swiss's permission to marry Heather.

  He'd received a nod as an answer and a slap on the shoulder.

  "How many steaks do you want, Dad?" Heather half turned from the grill.

  Swiss held up two fingers.

  "Rod?" asked Heather.

  "One will do," he said.

  Swiss snorted. "Pussy."

  Rod chuckled. Yeah, things were good between him and Swiss. Brothers for life, and soon they'd be related by marriage.

  He finished his beer and before he could set down the bottle, Gia came over and put another one in his hand and climbed up on Swiss's lap. Rod stood and walked over to the new patio he and Swiss had built. Looking back, it was the comradery with his best friend, the support from Heather, and looking forward to tomorrow that had him surviving some dark days after Tim's suicide.

  Heather sensed his approach and tipped her chin up, puckering her lips. He kissed her, holding her close.

  She pulled away with a loud smack. "Steak is almost done."

  He stepped behind her as she checked on the meat and placed his hands on her hips. "Have you seen Girl?"

  Heather removed one of the steaks. "She's under the bench in the corner."

  He found the dog exactly where Heather said, laying there looking at the two of them, her tongue drooling. "Why don't you throw another steak on the grill. Girl is hungry."

  Heather laughed and pointed to the table. "There's already one cooling for her."

  He bent his knees and kissed her neck. "Love you, sassy."

  She turned in his arms and looped her arms around his shoulders. "Love you, too."

  Rod patted her butt and got out of her way for her to finish the food. Swiss joined him on the patio while Gia hurried to grab everyone a plate.

  "What's your plans for next summer?" asked Rod.

  Swiss shrugged. "Who knows."

  "Feel like helping me put up a pole building behind the garage?" Rod drank from his beer. "Gia and Heather can hang out while we work."

  "Yeah." Swiss nodded. "Sounds good."

  Rod gazed at Heather, alive and thriving within her family. His chest warmed and he inhaled deeply, content that he could give her what she always wanted. He had plans for his future. Their future.

  Dear readers —

  Thank you so much for reading Rather Be Wrong.

  I imagine you were curious going into Rather Be Wrong about how Heather dealt with the baggage of being raised without her father in her life if you read the previous book, Don't Say It. It also didn't take you long to realize that Heather's dysfunctional family looked like a piece of cake compared to what you were learning about Rod's family.

  It's a good reminder to all of us that we have no idea what another person is dealing with in their personal life. That sometimes the most well-adjusted adult carries secrets so dark that they can go a lifetime and nobody ever finds out what the
y've lived through, dealt with, or hid.

  I created the character of Tim Lawson back when I was writing the Moroad MC series with plans to include him as a psychotic killer in prison that one of the Moroad members dealt with, but then decided to save him for the Ronacks series. The reason? It's common to find killers in prison who have a mental illness. What we don't hear about is psychotic men and women who are walking around with us in society or how they have families that must deal with their mental issues. I wanted my focus on Rod —his guilt and need to separate himself— and how he handled his brother, Tim. Being family puts a different spin on how we deal with a relative versus a neighbor down the road or a stranger.

  In Rather Be Wrong, I wanted to leave you with your own conclusion on whether Rod would've actually shot his brother to end his life-long torment or if Tim involving Rod in his suicide was actually another form of laying guilt on Rod's shoulders. All readers will have a different opinion, I'm sure.

  Now, if you picked up Rather Be Wrong and haven't read the other books in my series, that's okay. It is a standalone. For those who loved Heather and grew curious about Swiss's side of the story and how he lost his daughter or want to learn more about Heather's childhood through her father's eyes, you can buy Don't Say It and enjoy finding out more.

  What's up next for readers? I'm going to skip ahead a few years from where we ended in Rather Be Wrong and give you...drum roll...Mel and Raelyn's story. You saw that coming, right?

  Stay up to date by following me on Facebook and visit my website to get information on all my books.

  Love,

  Deb

  Author Bio

  Debra Kayn is the author of the Bestselling Bantorus MC series, Moroad MC series, Red Light: Silver Girls series, Hard Body series, Playing For hearts series, and a huge backlist of books.

  She lives with her family in the Bitterroot Mountains of beautiful Northern Idaho where she enjoys the outdoors, the four seasons, and small-town living.

  Website: www.debrakayn.com

  Twitter: www.twitter.com/DebraKayn

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/DebraKaynFanPage

  Debra Kayn's Backlist

  ...or something – Ronacks Motorcycle Club

  Don't Say It – Ronacks Motorcycle Club

  Rather Be Wrong – Ronacks Motorcycle Club

  Blow Softly – Red Light: Silver Girls series

  Touch Slowly – Red Light: Silver Girls series

  Fall Gently – Red Light: Silver Girls series

  Wrapped Around Him – Moroad MC series

  For Life – Moroad MC series,

  His Crime – Moroad MC series

  Time Owed – Moroad MC series

  Falling For Crazy – Moroad MC series

  Chasing Down Changes – Moroad MC series

  Breathing His Air – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Aching To Exhale – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Soothing His Madness – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Grasping for Freedom – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Fighting To Ride – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Struggling For Justice – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Starving For Vengeance – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Living A Beautiful War – Bantorus Motorcycle Club

  Laying Down His Colors – Bantorus Motorcycle Club, anthology titled Melt My Heart

  Archer, A Hard Body Novel

  Weston, A Hard Body Novel

  Biker Babe in Black, The Chromes and Wheels Gang

  Ride Free, The Chromes and Wheels Gang

  Healing Trace

  Wildly, Playing For Hearts

  Seductively, Playing For Hearts

  Conveniently, Playing For Hearts

  Secretly, Playing For Hearts

  Surprisingly, Playing For Hearts

  Chantilly's Cowboy, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch

  Val's Rancher, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch

  Margot's Lawman, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch

  Florentine's Hero, The Sisters of McDougal Ranch

  Suite Cowboy

  Hijinks

  Resurrecting Charlie's Girl

  Betraying the Prince

  Love Rescued Me

  Double Agent

  Breaking Fire Code

  ~ Sneak Peek ~

  Fall Gently — Red Light: Silver Girls series

  By Debra Kayn

  Chapter One

  Roni turned the faucet on until her minty spit circled the drain and cleared the sink. She ran her tongue over her front teeth, assured the taste of latex was finally gone. The job to rid her mouth of any foreign taste had only taken her three brushings, two swishings, and—she popped a wintergreen Lifesaver in her mouth—one mint. At least until the next customer finished with her and the routine started all over again.

  The crunch of breath freshener between her teeth gave her something to concentrate on while she ignored the crick in her neck. She put a new rubber-backed throw rug on the end of her bed. The rules at Red Light Bordello surprised her.

  Yesterday when Tiff, the madam of the illegal establishment in Federal, Idaho, gave her and the other three ladies from the prostitution Network their orientation, she realized how nice it was to work in a clean, organized building where everyone associated with the bordello treated her with respect.

  Everything had its place and clothes stayed on the visiting customers, no matter the sexual request. Roni swallowed the tiny bits of mint left in her mouth, sat down in the chair, and looked at the clock. She still had five minutes until Tiff escorted the final customer of the night through the yellow door to her room.

  She raised her hands and rubbed the back of her neck. Colored doors were also a new thing to her. The other three bordellos she'd worked at since signing up with the Network used a sign on each door to keep track of what lady performed which sexual favor.

  At Red Light, each color represented the prostitute's skill. Yellow—blowjobs only. Red—Anything goes, but hard limits per the prostitute's choosing. Green— straight sex and blowjobs from a dominating sex worker. Blue— power sex and blowjobs from a submission prostitute. Roni checked the clock again and stood. Sometimes she wondered if she changed her paperwork to regular sex on top of the blowjobs it would be easier and less nauseating. The taste of latex left her gagging and by the end of the evening, her neck and jaw killed.

  But, she couldn't. She knew the rules. Not the rules at the current bordello or even past houses, but the rules put in place by Vince.

  He never allowed another man to take her through normal sex. Her body was his and what he owned would not be shared with any other man, except her mouth.

  Vince believed her mouth was free to use. He believed her mouth didn't matter. He believed having a dick shoved in her mouth shouldn't bother her.

  She shuddered. Her rational fear had not lessened when she escaped the boss of the Yesler Street Gang that got ahold of her outside the homeless shelter three years ago. Vince made sure she ate fear for breakfast and kept her afraid.

  Until the day she no longer feared death, and instead feared to live.

  She'd reached her limit when Vince had backhanded her hard enough she lost consciousness, and she'd used his negligence to escape his house.

  Over nine months of being on her own and protected by the Network, she still waited for the door to open and Vince to drag her back out on the street.

  The door opened.

  Her body tensed. She swallowed the shock of surprise and smiled.

  Tiff raised her brows, holding a hand under her swollen belly as if comforting the child that wouldn't be born for three more months. The tautness in Roni's neck eased at the sight of her madam.

  "You have twenty minutes." Tiff stepped back into the hallway letting the customer inside and shutting the door.

  The man looked up, found Roni, and stepped closer.

  The large man stood confidently in the room. His short brown hair and intensely dark eyes topped off his rough ap
pearance in a worn flannel shirt, faded jeans, and black steel-toed boots. Roni's head pounded, and she broke eye contact with him. Looking down at his hands, she gasped. He had a tattoo of a bird's head on the back of his hand between his thumb and index finger.

  Sparrows!

  A sudden chill left her shaking, and she reached behind her for something to use to protect herself.

  How many times had she stared at the same tattoo marking on Vince and the Sparrows members and thought she'd die?

  The man stepped forward. "It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you."

  She finally found her feet and moved back, pressing against the top drawer, and blindly searched for the handle. With only the minimum of necessities to her name, she only had clothes inside the dresser. But, she needed something to use as a weapon. Even a shirt might help her stay alive.

  "Please." The man's deep voice softened. "I'm only here to talk to you."

  "W-who are you?" she said, hating how weak her voice came out.

  "My name's Carver." He ran his hand over his whiskered jaw. "Dawson Carver."

  She inched backward, sweeping her hand along the top of the dresser and found the topless female figurine that came with the room. She snatched the object in her hand. A surge of energy burst through her fear at the added protection.

  She lifted her chin. "I'll scream."

  The tight security in the building, guarded by bikers and an alarm system, would protect her. The legal adult entertainment business, Silver Girls, downstairs in the Sterling Building remained locked during Red Light's working hours. If she yelled for help, someone upstairs would hear her.

  "Please, don't." Dawson held his hand out in front of him.

  Her gaze flickered between his hands and his tattoo. She'd seen most of the men who worked for Vince. They all had a sparrow head on their hand. Vince had flaunted his tattoo many times in her face and drilled the meaning into her head with his fist.

  A sparrow represented fear, courage, loyalty, and strength.

  "I only want to talk to you." Dawson pointed at the bed. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to touch you. I'm not going to make you leave the bordello."

  She remained where she stood, not believing a word.