Point of Surrender Read online

  Point of Surrender

  Nordic Lords MC Book 4

  Stacey Lynn

  Contents

  Copyright

  Untitled

  1. Meg

  2. Meg

  3. Finn

  4. Meg

  5. Finn

  6. Meg

  7. Finn

  8. Meg

  9. Finn

  10. Meg

  11. Finn

  12. Meg

  13. Meg

  14. Finn

  15. Meg

  16. Finn

  17. Meg

  18. Finn

  19. Meg

  20. Finn

  21. Meg

  22. Meg

  23. Finn

  24. Meg

  25. Meg

  26. Finn

  Epilogue

  Untitled

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright 2015

  Point of Surrender, The Nordic Lords MC, Book 4

  Stacey Lynn

  © 2015 Stacey Lynn

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permissions from the author, except for using small quotes for book review quotations. All characters and storylines are the property of the author. The characters, events and places portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Trademarks: This book identifies product names and services known to be trademarks, registered trademarks, or service marks of their respective holders. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of all products referenced in this work of fiction. The publication and use of these trademarks in not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Editing provided by: Amy Jackson Editing

  Proofreading provided by: Emily A. Lawrence

  Cover design provided by: QDesign, Amy Queau

  1 Meg

  I shuffled a few proposals into my outbox and turned off my computer.

  Throwing my purse over my shoulder, I jangled my key ring in my hand and headed toward my boss’s office.

  Todd Ritter was a decent guy and an even nicer boss. He gave me a job when I didn’t have a college degree or any knowledge whatsoever regarding retirement plans, life insurance, or 401(k)s. But he had the patience of a saint and trusted—when I showed up, practically pleading with him for a job after my husband, Byron, passed away on an oil rig in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico—that I’d catch on quickly.

  Yep, he had preternatural patience. The fact that he was drowning in paperwork and hadn’t been able to find an assistant and receptionist for his small office in six months probably helped, too.

  He might have been more desperate than me, and that was saying a lot.

  Regardless, for the last four years, he’d been good to me.

  “I’m taking off now,” I told him once he set down the phone he’d been on. “Thanks again for letting me off early.”

  He looked up and smiled, running a hand through his short, sandy brown hair. His eyes lit up when he smiled. I always wondered if his wife of twenty years still felt little flutters in her belly when he smiled at her. He was just that kind of guy. Endearing. Good.

  So much like Byron.

  Or the Byron I knew before a nightmare showed up on my doorstep and forced me to change the way I thought of my husband.

  I inwardly stopped myself from going down the rabbit hole where that thought would take me. Difficult as it was, it was hard to reconcile the man I had loved and been married to—the man I grieved—with the part of him I’d found out he’d been hiding from me, just a month after his death.

  “No problem,” Todd said and waved me off. “Have a good weekend with Brayden now that school is done.”

  I grinned. “Will do. See you a week from Monday.” I tapped his doorframe to remind him of my vacation week before I turned around and headed outside to my Ford Escape. I always took off the week after school got out to spend with my son. It gave us time to reconnect, have some fun, and make some memories. This year, I was looking forward to hanging out at home and just relaxing. Maybe catching a few movies.

  It didn’t take long before I was pulling up to Brayden’s preschool, housed in an elementary school just two miles from my job and one mile in the other direction from my small house in New Orleans.

  I loved being close to both my work and Brayden’s school—not just because it saved me from driving in horrific traffic, but because Brayden’s school allowed pre-schoolers to attend a new program where they went the full length of a school day. The morning was academics and the afternoon had rest time and playtime like his previous daycare.

  But this saved me money, which was imperative to my current financial situation.

  All of that would change, though, in three weeks if I didn’t come up with a better plan.

  I shuddered, remembering my conversation two days ago when one of Maurice Moscoe’s men stopped me after work and insisted I followed him to Moscoe’s office.

  Thankfully, Brayden hadn’t been in the car with me at the time. The fact that these men probably knew that, and that was why he’d stopped me, filled me with thoughts I never wanted to consider.

  Three weeks, Moscoe had told me. Three weeks to finish paying off the debt or he was changing the rules.

  My blood ran cold every time I replayed that night in my head, and I closed my eyes.

  “Damn it,” I muttered and shook my head.

  Opening my eyes, I saw that the school in front of me was still empty, so I reached for my cell phone to kill some time.

  I smiled when I saw the waiting text from Faith.

  I had met Faith last fall when she and Ryker had come to visit me. Ryker had been a good friend of Byron’s and worked on the oil rig with him. For the longest time, Ryker had blamed himself for Byron’s death, even though it’d been an accident. It was probably the main reason why he was so quick to step in and take care of Brayden and me over the last few years. But when Ryker had told me the story of his ex-fiancée, Faith, and the mess she had found herself in back in his hometown of Jasper Bay, Minnesota, I had sent him home full of assurances that I didn’t need someone looking out for me.

  He couldn’t help me with my problems, anyway.

  Pete, a third friend of theirs, had stepped in once Ryker left to fill the father role for Brayden. I was grateful for the amazing men I had in my life, even if I found them slightly overbearing and even more overprotective.

  Still smiling, I opened my text from Faith and chuckled.

  Faith: What’s the difference between eggs and you?

  Me: I don’t know. What?

  I didn’t expect to get an answer from her right away, but Faith never failed to crack me up. We’d become good friends over the last nine months, even though I hadn’t seen her or Ryker since they visited at Christmastime.

  I missed them, even if I was annoyed at Faith’s recent attempts to prod me back into the dating world again.

  It was never going to happen.

  Especially if Moscoe got his way.

  My phone buzzed and Moscoe’s threats were almost completely forgotten when I read Faith’s reply.

  Faith: Eggs get laid and you don’t.

  I threw my head back and laughed, shaking my head.

  Me: Those bikers are turning you into a dirty old man.

  Faith: I like being dirtied up.

  Me: Way too much info.

  I laughed at the smiley face with bouncing eyebrows she sent me as a reply just as I heard the school bell ring.

  Sliding my phone back into my p
urse, I grabbed my keys and got out of my car to greet Brayden as he came out of the school.

  It only took me a few minutes of surveying the herd of running and laughing children, completely thrilled school was out for the summer, before I saw Brayden running toward me.

  His hands were outstretched, his way-too-large backpack bouncing behind him. It hit the backs of his knees as he barreled through the throng of kids twice his size.

  “Mom!” he shouted. “Look what I have!”

  I crouched down and opened my arms at the same time he flung his arms around my neck.

  “Hey,” I said, squeezing him. “How was your day?”

  He pulled back and grinned. “Awesome. Except that dumb girl Maya pushed me in the back. I think it’s stupid that a girl can play football with us.”

  He pouted and crossed his arms. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Standing up, I shuffled his messy and sweaty hair. Sand and grass went flying as I scrubbed. “Girls can play, too. Besides, I think she likes you.”

  “Ew,” he mumbled and looked at his feet.

  I pointed to his hand. “What’s that?”

  His eyes widened. “Ohh…I got a birthday card in my cubby.”

  “What?” I frowned, and my eyebrows pulled close together. Brayden had turned five over a month ago. “Let me see it.”

  I held out my hand, and he happily put the card in my palm.

  It looked pretty unassuming, with a picture of a turtle superhero holding a sword and shield. “Happy Birthday, Cowabunga-dude,” it read on the front.

  I opened it and gasped.

  Cold waves of disgust and fear shook my shoulders and slithered down my spine to my toes, and I dropped the card.

  I stared at it while it fluttered to the ground. It seemed to take forever.

  Brayden bent down to pick it up.

  “Don’t,” I snapped.

  I blinked, but the words wouldn’t disappear from my vision.

  I’ll take him or you. Your choice.

  My hands trembled and turned to ice. I grabbed Brayden before he could touch it.

  “But, Mom,” he whined and his lip trembled. “I like the Turtles.”

  “I know you do,” I said and pulled him away from the offending tagboard. “But it’s not for you to keep.”

  “But it had my name on it!”

  “Stop it,” I hissed and then squeezed my eyes closed. Terrified adrenaline coursed through my veins as I looked around the parking lot. Why would he do this?

  Why would he show up so close to my kid? To prove he could?

  I swallowed a thick lump of bile in my throat and exhaled.

  “I’m sorry,” I told Brayden. My throat was dry and my tongue felt thick. “But you can’t have it, okay? I’ll buy you a new Turtle this weekend if you want.”

  Slightly mollified by the new toy, he still pouted and glanced back toward his school and the place where I’d just yanked him from. “Okay.”

  “Come on,” I said, plastering a fake smile on my face. “I have cookies for you at home.”

  Cookies always worked to absolve me of my mommy-guilt—those moments where I snapped when I should have hugged. Yelled when I could have waited.

  Cookies always helped Brayden feel better, and they worked for me, too.

  * * *

  My hands shook so hard wrapped around the steering wheel that I had no idea how I was able to drive in a straight line, but just a few minutes later I pulled into our driveway and turned the engine off.

  It was one thing for Moscoe to threaten me.

  It was completely different for him to be so close to my son at his school.

  My shoulders shook with fear, and I blinked rapidly several times. It was just enough to keep the tears at bay.

  How in the hell was I going to get out of this mess?

  “Mom?”

  I flicked my eyes toward the rearview mirror and saw Brayden’s worried expression.

  “You mad at me?”

  “No, honey.” I shook my head and smiled. “Not mad.”

  He frowned and I felt like shit. I had somehow found myself thrown into a nightmare and now I couldn’t even keep Brayden safe.

  But someone I knew could help both of us.

  It just meant finally swallowing my pride, admitting defeat, and asking for help.

  “Hey, buddy?” I led us toward the door to our house, Brayden’s small hand wrapped in mine. I bent down to his level and smiled. “Since we’re on vacation, how would you like to go make a surprise visit to see Ryker and Faith?”

  His eyes lit up and he grinned. All his teeth showed as his jaw dropped. “Really?”

  I nodded, faking enthusiasm. “Really. Let’s pack some bags and we’ll head out as soon as we can.”

  “Awesome,” he said, complete with a tiny fist pump.

  I shook my head and followed him into the house. He took off up the stairs as soon as he came through the door, and I followed slowly.

  I had no idea if I was doing the right thing by going to Ryker for help, but I couldn’t stay here—not knowing how easy it was for something to happen to Brayden.

  It could be the worst decision I’d ever made.

  But it’d still be better than the consequences I would face if I didn’t.

  * * *

  I tried to picture the Ryker I knew growing up in a small town like Jasper Bay as I drove down Main Street. From what I gathered, there were about three streets that made the actual town a “town:” Main Street and two cross streets. I was through the downtown with one stoplight before I could realize I was even in the heart of Jasper Bay.

  A grin pulled at the edges of my lips. Brayden had his little nose pushed to his window as he caught sight of a large, neon-lit ice cream cone hanging at an angle on one of the buildings.

  “Mom! Ice cream!”

  “We’ll get some later, I promise.”

  “But I want it.”

  “I know you do,” I replied, anxious to get to Ryker and Faith. My neck and shoulders felt the tension of driving almost two straight days with a stop late last night in a small Holiday Inn hotel outside Peoria, Illinois. It gave Brayden and me enough time to eat some fast food and take a quick swim in the hotel pool before we passed out in the only double bed the room held. “Maybe we’ll see if Ryker and Faith will give us a tour of the town after dinner.”

  The tour wouldn’t take long, considering we were less than a half-mile from the main stoplight but already the businesses had dropped off. We were on a two-lane road with only a few houses, but lots of flat land and even more pine and birch trees lining the road.

  I took his silence as acceptance.

  Glancing down, I watched the bleeping blue dot on my phone’s GPS and followed the directions until I was pulling my SUV into a dirt driveway lined with trees.

  It felt like I drove down that driveway forever until a large, old-school-type farmhouse appeared in front of me…

  Complete with a scowling Ryker standing on the front porch.

  My hands twisted on the steering wheel. Ryker didn’t move from his perch against the railing as he watched me stop and shift my SUV into park, and then we just stared at one another.

  Me with fear and nerves and guilt all over my paling face.

  Ryker, his eyebrows pulled together, his arms crossed over his chest, and his feet crossed at the ankles as he leaned against a white-painted wooden railing. He looked nonchalant.

  The emotions pulsing off him—in tumultuous waves so heavy I felt it sitting inside my SUV—were anything but nonchalance.

  Brayden bounced in his seat, rocking the Escape. “Uncle Ryker!”

  He clapped his hands, and I turned to look at him over my shoulder. “You want to go see him?”

  Which was the equivalent of asking him if he really wanted ice cream. Or if Milk Duds were his favorite snack. I flinched from his shriek.

  “All right, all right, buddy.”

  I kept my eyes off Ryker as I climbed out of my
side of the SUV, opened Brayden’s door, and unbuckled him from his booster seat.

  He hopped down and took off running for the front porch before I closed his door behind him.

  I heard his happy squeals.

  My heart swelled when Ryker’s low, rumbling laugh returned the exuberant hello.

  And something in my chest ached. I missed him. I missed the bond he and Brayden had. Brayden hadn’t taken it well when Ryker left town, and he had cried for him for weeks, certain he would never see him again. When Ryker and Faith visited New Orleans that first time, Brayden had finally calmed. He’d finally realized Ryker wasn’t dead like his dad, but he really had just moved away. Somehow knowing he’d be able to see Ryker again had finally allowed Brayden to adjust.

  Seeing my kid, his arms wrapped around Ryker’s hips and his head pressed into his stomach, caused me to take a step back.

  My heart thumped in my chest and soothed a part of the emotions I’d been battling for the last two days. Brayden didn’t react this way to anyone except Ryker.

  He liked Pete, and the two had fun together, but there was always something about Brayden’s relationship with Ryker that he didn’t have with other men—something stronger and deeper.

  I smiled, watching the two together as I lifted the tailgate at the back and began removing our duffel bags.

  When I closed the tailgate, I twisted and bent down to lift the bags, only to turn and run into a solid wall of angry biker.

  Ryker’s arms wrapped around my shoulders and he pulled me to his chest.

  My forehead fell against him and my shoulders sagged.

  We were silent for a beat before his hands moved. They curled around my shoulders and he pushed me away.

  His head dipped.

  His black eyebrows pulled together and his lips were pinched together.

  “Faith took Brayden inside for a snack,” he started. His voice was deep, thick with tension, and I knew his hands around my shoulders wanted to shake a little sense into me.

  Luckily for me, he dropped my shoulders and took a step back. He bent down, picked up the bags, and began walking toward the front door.