Patriot (Dark Falcons Book 3)

by Em Petrova

  Hunter’s brows shot up and he scratched his jaw. “Take him home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But he stinks.”

  “Yeah, and he probably pissed himself too. Go on. Make a good Samaritan of yourself.” He didn’t wait to see if Hunter obeyed the command—he turned to Fiona. She bit her lower lip to restrain a laugh, but her cheeks were pink.

  Hunter walked up to the guy and persuaded him to climb off the stool and follow him outside. After the door closed behind them, Fiona burst out laughing, and from across the room where Dixon was sweeping up some broken glass from the night’s festivities, the prez’s laughter boomed.

  “That was mean,” Fiona said.

  “The kid’s followin’ you around like a lost puppy, Patriot. Just give him a prospect patch already.” Dixon dumped the scoop of broken glass into the wastebasket.

  He chuckled. “Fine. I’ll give him a patch and we’ll throw him a party.”

  “Make him run for the beer for his own party,” Dixon added.

  They all laughed.

  Blade leaned on the bar, taking it all in as he usually did—sometimes thinking on things a long time before adding his two cents. So when he spoke, everyone stopped what they were doing to listen.

  “What about that girl who was starin’ at you all night? You got somethin’ going with her?”

  Everyone zeroed in on Patriot. “Nah, man. Met her on a campin’ trip and she keeps popping up where I’m at.”

  “Maybe it’s not a coincidence,” Blade said with a hint of amusement.

  “She’s young and innocent. She isn’t stalking me to become an old lady or even a honey.” Just the thought of Aarica being invited into the clubhouse to be one of the women who stuck around to entertain the men and try to become more to them made his stomach turn.

  “Your business, man. I only observe.”

  “Yeah, you’re good at analyzing our bullshit. What about becoming a fully patched member of the Dark Falcons and then we might actually take your advice?” Patriot grinned.

  “He’s not wrong, man,” Dixon added, leaning on the broom he used to help out his old lady. “We’ve been asking you for months now.”

  Blade bobbed his head in a nod. “Been thinking on that too. I figure I’m at the club all the damn time anyway—might as well be your brother for real.”

  “Oh hell.” Dixon moved in and gave Blade a bro-hug. Blade thumped him on the spine and turned to Patriot for more of the same.

  “Better late than never, man.” Patriot warmed at the thought of having another brother, one he always felt belonged but who kept himself outside the club limits for personal reasons he’d never shared.

  Dixon’s grin couldn’t spread any wider. “Time we really celebrate. Postpone that prospect party—we’re celebrating a new full patch tomorrow night!”

  Patriot tapped a hand on the bar top. “A damn good night.”

  “Would have been better with a decent tequila and tabasco, eh, Patriot?” Blade teased.

  He shot a sideways grin at Fiona. “Fiona will have her new worker up to speed for next time.”

  “She didn’t make many errors all night, and I threw her in without a life jacket. If she messed up your order, it’s because you make her nervous,” Fiona sassed him.

  He chuckled, and Dixon outright laughed. Patriot turned for the exit. “I’m out. See ya later.”

  They threw him waves as he left. Outside, the moonlight shed everything in a blue glow, and the gleam of chrome on his bike gave him the urge to take a much longer ride than the few miles to his house. He could take a detour the long way and down a few back roads that would lengthen his trip and give him time to think.

  When he did just that, pointing his bike toward the loop that would eventually lead him home, he found his head space wasn’t filled with the crimes his crew was accused of, the sheriff poking around the clubhouse, adding Hunter as a prospect or Blade as a full member at long last.

  No, every damn corner of his brain bulged with thoughts of Aarica. Seeing the woman at the house he was working on and now the bar had him wondering what the hell the universe was trying to tell him.

  He didn’t believe in chance. Things happened in life for a reason. He might not always understand them at the time, but later he could look back and see the purpose of an event or in crossing paths with someone at a certain point in time. Was he meant to help Aarica in some way?

  Yeah, in relieving her of her virginity.

  Dammit. If only she wasn’t untouched.

  Hell, who was he kidding? He still wouldn’t touch her. Those big round eyes and the tanned skin that both spoke of the girl’s wholesome life were enough to throw up a barricade between them. He stood on the side of the wall bathed in shadows. He never committed crimes or treated people dirty, but a man didn’t reach thirty and not see some shit in life.

  And Aarica surprised the hell out of him. She might proclaim herself a virgin, but the way she’d taken pleasure from him that night spoke of no innocence to the act. She’d been touched before. Or touched herself, at least.

  Fuck. He squeezed the thought right out of his head before he wrecked his bike and ended up as a smear on the asphalt.

  He’d almost touched her tonight. Fuck, he wanted to feel her silky skin again, even if only a brush of his fingertips over her knuckles. One touch would be enough—to send him over the edge, that was. No telling what he would have done if he gave in to his baser instincts.

  He circled to his idea that she’d been placed in his path. To protect, maybe. To watch over, like a little sister. Fuck that. She wasn’t his sister, and his urge to peel the clothes off her and fuck her was a volcano ready to erupt.

  Jesus, he couldn’t keep on this path. He’d lose his mind. If he spent any time in the Painted Pig, he’d bump into her, but he could avoid that easy enough. Drink at the clubhouse only, find something else to do on the nights when the brothers headed to the bar. Though that was still quite a few nights a week, since Dixon kept an eye on his woman and no one would ever harass Fiona with Dixon and all the Dark Falcons at his back.

  Riding through the outer loop of Mersey with a lot of units up for rent had him wondering where the hell Aarica lived. She deserved some cute little bungalow with a nice back yard where she could sit and entertain friends or sunbathe.

  He slammed down the image of her clad only in a bikini, the round globes of her ass scantily covered by tight spandex, and wished to hell he wasn’t so good at visualizing everything from roof peaks to custom interior cabinets and the ripe curves of a woman’s body.

  Finally, he turned his bike toward home.

  Alone. And it needed to stay that way.

  Patriot reached out to shake the client’s hand before taking his leave. Another job in the bag, and the new flooring he wanted laid in his home could be completed within a few days with all hands on deck.

  He was damn lucky to receive any work at all right now, with his reputation in the toilet.

  As he left the house, he scanned the neighborhood. Across the street stood a park with a small playground and a couple picnic tables. He’d helped with the project, where they demo’d a crumbling home and reclaimed the lot for a public space.

  He heard a loud cry of happiness and looked over to see a young boy standing there with a red rubber ball trapped in his arms. Across from him, eight feet or so away, stood Aarica.

  The woman was going to kill him, he thought as his feet started to carry him across the road. His goal of reaching her never registered in his mind until he felt grass underfoot.

  When he started toward the pair, the boy shot him a look from the corner of his eye. Then he dropped the ball and snapped his hands over his ears.

  Patriot stopped walking. Crap—he hadn’t meant to give the kid a fright.

  Aarica shot a look around and spotted him. The electric jolt between their stares seemed to zip through the air like a live rope. He could tug it and bring her to him.

  “Jay,
it’s okay. You’re right—this man is working on the roof at your house and makes loud noises. Doesn’t he?” She touched the boy’s shoulder as she soothed him.

  He nodded frantically.

  Feeling the need to help in some way, Patriot held out his arms to indicate he wasn’t holding a hammer.

  “He doesn’t have a hammer today,” Aarica caught on at once. “See, Jay? He’s just coming to say hello.” She slid her stare to Patriot before returning her attention to her ward. She eased Jay’s hands down and then tucked one through her arm, holding him close.

  “Hi, Patriot. Jay, this is Patriot. Can you wave at him?”

  The boy lifted his hand in a reluctant wave.

  Patriot smiled. “I saw you playing ball. Are you having fun today in the park?”

  He gave a slow nod as if he didn’t totally trust Patriot not to make some noise to scare him. Slowly, Patriot walked over and retrieved the ball. Aarica’s eyes followed him, and he felt the touch of heat.

  Holding up the ball, he said, “Mind if I play too?”

  He didn’t know what possessed him to ask—maybe the need to assure the child that he wasn’t a terrifying chump. Maybe the need to be near his babysitter.

  Surprise registered in Aarica’s eyes. “That would be so nice, wouldn’t it, Jay? Would you like if Patriot joins us?”

  He nodded again very slowly.

  Patriot squared up with Aarica and Jay, standing about eight feet away as she had earlier. He met her gaze. “Do I bounce it or roll it?”

  “Bounce. Jay just caught one on a bounce and that was a big deal!” The happy glint in her eyes told him how much she really cared about this boy, and that warmed the hell out of him.

  She released Jay’s arm. “Get ready. He’s going to bounce the ball to you now.”

  The boy positioned himself, and Patriot released the ball, letting its weight set the momentum and give Jay time to react to catch it. The ball struck the grass in the center between them all, and Jay lunged forward to grab for it. The ball rolled by him, and Aarica used the toe of her shoe to direct it toward the child.

  Laughing now, he closed his hands on the ball and picked it up with a huge grin. Aarica let out a cheer, and he jumped up and down.

  They continued the same way several times until the child obviously grew more comfortable with Patriot. He couldn’t yet say the same about Aarica. She watched him close, as if trying to figure out his motives behind joining their fun.

  When the tinkle of the ice cream truck sounded in the distance, Jay’s head snapped around to see. He made a noise, and Aarica nodded to him. “I think you can have a treat this afternoon, since you ate your lunch today.”

  The truck rolled up to the park and stopped. Patriot rolled the ball toward her. “I’ll get it. C’mon, Jay. Show me what kind of ice cream you want.”

  They walked up to the curb where the truck sat with a menu of cool treats spanning the side. Jay pointed at one, and Patriot said, “Three please.”

  After he paid and they got their snack, Aarica led the way to one of the picnic tables. She sat next to her ward and Patriot took the seat across from her so he could look at her.

  She helped Jay open his ice cream and then offered a soft smile to Patriot. “Thank you. You didn’t need to treat us.”

  “My pleasure.” He watched her tongue slip out and work over the rainbow-colored ice cream. The pull on his groin almost raised a groan in his throat. “Do you come to the park often?” he asked to keep his thoughts off splaying her out on this table and showing her another sort of treat.

  “Once in a while depending on Jay’s mood. He likes to play video games, and I prefer to get him outside in the fresh air.” Her big eyes penetrated him with a deep look. “Are you on the job?”

  “Just came from a meeting about one. I saw you guys playing.”

  Her soft smile this time revealed her white teeth—the wide smile he’d been burning for ever since meeting her. “I’m glad you stopped, Patriot.”

  His chest tightened. “Me too.”

  “We keep bumping into each other.”

  “That seems to be a thing with you.” His tone came out gruff as he licked his rainbow ice cream.

  She tipped her head, watching him. “Maybe we’re meant to be friends.”

  Friends. Fuck, he never wanted to bend one of his friends over a picnic table before, but he nodded anyway. “Friends,” he repeated.

  Jay clapped his hands, and ice cream flew, landing on Aarica’s arm. They all started laughing.

  Aarica walked up the sidewalk and knocked on the red front door. If life taught her anything since striking out on her own, it was that she had zero time for shyness. Finding jobs to keep the money rolling in meant being bold enough to ask.

  She waited on the stoop, hearing bumps and footsteps inside. When the door opened and the sweet little old man with drooping shoulders and a comb-over hairstyle faced her, she gave him a genuine smile.

  “Hi, I saw your flyer up at the supermarket for a lawn mower.” She’d also seen him struggle to mow twice now from the Posts’ window.

  He looked her over. “I expected a boy.”

  “Girls can mow lawns too.” She softened her retort with the million-watt smile her cousins claimed would charm the Devil.

  The man grunted. “I suppose that’s true enough. And my own daughter would have said the same thing. You could have called.”

  “I know, but I think it’s more personal to meet face-to-face.” She glanced around at the high grass. “Seems as if you still need a worker around here.”

  “I do. And since you’re the first person to come by, the job’s yours. I pay fifty dollars a week.”

  Decent money. She wouldn’t complain when it meant paying her utility bills, filling up her tank or buying some food.

  She nodded. “I’ll take it, and thank you. And you have a mower.”

  “I do, out in the shed. If you go around the side, I’ll meet you there and unlock the door for you.”

  She waited until he closed the door to shoot around the house, aware of some weeding that needed done as well. After she finished mowing, if she had time before her shift at the Painted Pig, she’d do that for the gentleman.

  The back yard was just as unkempt as the front and definitely in need of a good cutting. The older man stood in front of the shed, wiggling a key into an old padlock holding the door closed. When he pulled the door open, he revealed the push mower that appeared to be in use since the eighties. She hoped it started easy. If not, her cousins had taught her a few tricks.

  The man stepped aside, and she pulled the mower down a small ramp leading to the grass. He cocked a bushy brow at her. “You sure you can handle this?”

  She smiled. “I grew up on a farm. I’ll be fine.”

  Sweeping a hand toward the mower, he said, “It’s all yours. Knock when you’re finished and I’ll pay you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Kelley.”

  “I never caught your name, young lady.”

  “Aarica Byrne.”

  He smiled for the first time. “Good luck getting through this high grass, Aarica.” He went inside, and she set to work starting the mower. It took a few tries, and the engine chugged a bit. In no time, she set off across the back yard, cutting paths and thinking she might need to rake up the clippings, bag it and put it at the curb for the older gentleman. But she wasn’t against going above and beyond the call of duty, especially for someone who clearly needed help.

  When she got to the front yard, she was sweating. After grabbing a bottle of water from her car and drinking most of it, she started on the front.

  A shrill whistle caught her attention. She looked up in search of the sound and spotted three guys sitting in a car—leaning out their windows more like—across the street. They watched her make another pass as though she was a sideshow.

  She continued to ignore their whistles and catcalls, turning another corner to cross the yard for a fourth time. Glancing up, she saw the c
ar door whip open and one of the guys fly across the neighboring yard. Stopping dead, she looked on with wide eyes.

  What the…?

  Another door opened, and then she spotted someone dragging the second man out by the seat of his pants as he obviously struggled to escape. A “someone” she’d recognize no matter if he was shirtless or wearing black leather and an MC patch.

  A gasp flew from her lips as the second guy who’d been gawking at her a minute ago hit the turf. Patriot reached in for the third, and he leaped out the door and took off in a sprint down the street.

  Without so much as a glance in her direction, Patriot turned and walked away. She scoured the parked cars and not far off spotted his construction truck.

  Oh. My. God. What was that?

  He’d totally put the smack-down on those young guys watching her mow the grass. She would march after him and ask what he was thinking, but something told her he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Also, if he was going to act as a bodyguard protector, he could have at least stopped to talk.

  After she finished the front lawn, she pushed the mower around the side. She stopped to yank some weeds and vowed to come earlier next week to do more work in the flowerbeds. She put away the mower, locked the shed again and went to the door for her first payday.

  Mr. Kelley had a nod of approval for her, and she’d grown up around enough males to understand that as the best praise she could receive.

  At home, she stripped off her sweaty cutoff shorts, tank top and the bikini top she’d worn beneath the tank to work in the hot sun. Even a cold shower couldn’t cool off the flames of awareness inside her when it came to Patriot, though.

  Of course, his mood changes were giving her mental whiplash. Next time she saw him, he might ignore her or act as though they were close friends. She hadn’t yet figured him out, but she wanted to—bad.

  She’d see him tonight.

  Maybe.

  She hoped so.

  This time she’d make his tequila and tabasco right and ask him why he’d tossed those young guys out of the car. She already knew the answer, but she wanted him to admit that he was just as interested in her as she was in him, and that the looks they’d exchanged in the park or their interlude at the campsite hadn’t been just a passing act on lust.