Patriot (Dark Falcons Book 3)

by Em Petrova

  Dixon walked over and gripped his shoulder hard enough to bruise. The pressure gave him hope that even if things went to hell and he couldn’t clear his name, the brothers would still accept him back into their fold after he did his time.

  Fuck.

  He gripped Dixon’s hand and then the man walked to the door that kept their conversation private from the rest of the club. He whipped it open and there stood Hunter.

  “What do you want?” Dixon’s tone made the guy back up a step.

  Hunter threw a look past the prez to Patriot. What he saw on the young guy’s face caused an eel of dread to slither through his gut.

  “I was coming to find you, man. The sheriff…” He pivoted, and Patriot spotted the sheriff standing in the silent clubhouse behind him, along with his deputy. Hunter looked at Patriot. “They want you to come quietly.”

  “Of course they do. They know we can take the motherfuckers.” He might sound like an asshole, but being arrested for a crime he didn’t commit wasn’t going down easy. He might want to fight his way out of it and escape, but he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do.

  Dixon turned to him. “We’ll hire you the best fucking lawyer in Tennessee.”

  He clenched his jaw. “I’m countin’ on it.” He pushed past Hunter and into the big open room where the music had stopped. All the guys stood staring at him in various poses of menace, and the honeys clustered in a corner, looking afraid.

  “Logan Stone. We have a warrant for your arrest.” The sheriff’s official-sounding tone sent his stomach dropping even further.

  This was really happening.

  Biting off his fury, he leveled his glare on the sheriff. The man had been a friend to the Dark Falcons during the time they were trying to drive the Mayhem gang from the town. And countless other times they’d worked together on various charity rides benefitting Mersey. Now this.

  “I guess loyalty and friendship only go so far,” he said roughly.

  He walked up to the sheriff and looked the man in the eyes. “You gonna slap the cuffs on me or can I walk outta my club in front of my brothers with dignity?”

  Sheriff Gardener nodded. “Don’t give us any trouble, and we won’t give you any in return.”

  He grunted. “Oh I intend to raise hell when I get to the jail. I didn’t commit this crime, and I plan to free myself.”

  “You have the right to do just that, son. C’mon then.” The sheriff led the way out of the clubhouse.

  Patriot followed. Behind him, not a murmur sounded among his brothers…his family.

  Aarica’s nervous energy had her lending a hand to Fiona despite the fact she wasn’t on the clock. The last two hours she sat wringing her hands while she waited for a sign of Patriot—or any Dark Falcon—but not one man wearing the patch had entered the Painted Pig all evening.

  She cleared some glasses off a table and carried them behind the bar. Fiona looked up, her brows drawn in worry too. Dixon was supposed to come move some things in the kitchen to make room for a new fryer, since business boomed and their equipment couldn’t keep up with the demand for all the wings, fries and onion rings.

  Fiona tried for a smile, but it appeared halfhearted. “Thanks, Aarica. You don’t need to work when you’re not getting paid.”

  She twisted her fingers. “Won’t you tell me where to find Patriot?”

  She bit down on her lip as if contemplating the question Aarica had already asked twice before. “I can’t. It’s sort of club code—we keep our business private.”

  “And I’m not in the club,” she added flatly.

  “Aarica, I’m sorry. I don’t know the state of Patriot’s mind, and I can’t say if he wants to be found right now. Especially right now.”

  The door burst open. She whirled to stare at Dixon striding straight toward them. Before he reached the bar, she could see something bad had happened. Anger rolled off the big man in waves.

  She and Fiona stepped up at the same time. “What happened?” Fiona demanded.

  He didn’t grace Aarica with so much as a look when he answered, “Trouble. Shit went down.”

  Her heart slammed hard and fast, a piston with too much power behind it. “Where’s Patriot?” Damn her voice for wavering instead of coming out strong as she intended.

  Dixon swung his gaze her way. “In jail.”

  Her whole body felt as if someone had yanked the muscle from it, leaving her unable to support herself. “Oh no…” she barely whispered.

  “What the hell happened?” Fiona leaned into the bar toward her man.

  “Sheriff Gardener came for him. Guess they have enough evidence to charge him. We’re goin’ over now, though we probably can’t bail him out until morning after he goes before the judge.”

  “Oh my God,” Fiona said weakly.

  Aarica clutched the edge of the bar. Her fingers tightened. In one swift move, she launched up and over the top, landing on the other side next to Dixon. “Take me with you!”

  He gaped at her, and Fiona’s jaw dropped.

  “I…I’m sorry, Fiona. I shouldn’t disrespect your property that way, but I couldn’t move around fast enough to make my point.”

  The woman shook her head. “You better take her.”

  She searched the woman’s face for the source of amusement she heard ringing in her voice but saw no indication as to why.

  Dixon gave a stern nod. “I’ll be home when I can. Be careful, okay?” He reached out and pulled Fiona onto tiptoe, leaning over the bar to kiss her.

  Aarica hurried to the door while they said their goodbyes. With her car keys already in hand, she started toward her parked vehicle. Dixon came out and waved to her. “Follow me.”

  She nodded and silently climbed behind the wheel. As she performed the automatic actions of driving, her mind couldn’t be further from the task.

  Patriot arrested.

  That must mean they had hard evidence against the man. She knew injustices happened every day, and why it had to happen to Patriot, she had no idea. The man kept his head down, worked hard for everything he had.

  Her insides sank lower when they pulled into the Mersey jail. She didn’t want to think about those small holding cells and how a big man such as Patriot would deal with that.

  Dixon gave her a nod as she fell into step next to him. “Keep quiet.”

  She nodded and trailed along. When they entered the front door, a wall of black leather greeted them. What seemed to be half the Dark Falcons stood here waiting for their president to give orders on how to make this situation better for their friend.

  Aarica pressed herself into the group and spotted that guy again—the one who wanted to be a prospect.

  Dixon stepped up to the lady at the desk. “What can you tell me about the charges?”

  “I can only tell you that your friend is being processed right now. In the morning, he’ll speak with his lawyer and be brought in front of the judge for arraignment. At that point, you can bail out Mr. Stone and he will be required to show up in court on the scheduled date.”

  “I know all that.” Dixon slashed a hand through the air. “I’m asking about the charges. What evidence do you have to make the arrest?”

  The woman eyed him as if trying to decide to tell him. Dixon wasn’t to be ignored.

  “Some of the parts from the stolen motorcycle was found on Mr. Stone’s motorcycle.”

  Aarica sucked in a gasp that had Dixon’s head swinging her direction. Then he pierced the receptionist in his glare. She shrank under the dark weight of it.

  “That is not possible,” he said evenly through clenched teeth.

  Around Aarica, the men erupted with bellows of injustice and foul-play. Someone jostled her, and she had to grip the edge of the desk to keep from being knocked over. She could see now how situations such as this got quickly out of hand, and that couldn’t happen.

  “Look, this isn’t helping Patriot! Take it outside, guys!” Her raised voice projected a notch higher than the noise the
y made, and for the second time, Dixon gave her that look as though he couldn’t believe her behavior.

  He turned to the guys. “She’s right. Wait outside.”

  Grumbles sounded, but the guys filtered out the door, leaving her and Dixon.

  She looked up at him. “It’s not true. How did it happen?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.” He shouldered past her, and she grabbed his forearm.

  His penetrating gaze unnerved her, because she recognized a glint of helplessness there. “Go on home,” he said. “Come in the morning and we’ll get him out. Okay?”

  She nodded and let her hand drop. As she watched the strong man fighting for her own strong man walk out, she could only feel a hopeless weight slump over her shoulders. Things didn’t look good for Patriot.

  Chapter Seven

  The first face he spotted when the doors opened, and he walked out as a free man, was Aarica’s.

  God, her beautiful face broke his damn heart. Her big eyes were filled with concern—for him.

  She pushed past his brothers who also showed up for his release from jail and ran straight into Patriot’s arms. He caught her against him, telling himself to push her away, tell her to go, even as he brought her tighter to his chest and bowed his face into her thick hair.

  Only milliseconds passed before he let her go and started toward his brothers. He felt her hand clasp around his but shook her off.

  “Patriot. Stop! I know what you’re doing and you can’t ignore me!” Her voice pitched higher over the shouts of the guys in his club.

  He stopped walking and turned to her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The gruff tone of his voice made her flinch, and fuck, he hated himself more.

  “You can’t get involved with me. Don’t you see that? You can’t get into this.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Fire lit them. She edged right up to him. If she were a man, he’d call it squaring up and he’d ready himself for a fight. But this little woman was about to throw down against him. For what?

  “Too late,” she spat. “I’m here. And you’re not getting rid of what you know we have just because you think I’m too innocent for all this.”

  The room went silent. Big, rough bikers silenced by the tirade of a woman who weighed a hundred twenty pounds.

  She reached out and snagged his hand, pressing down on his knuckles with her fingers. “Let’s go.”

  Patriot felt the tug on his hand as she pulled him along, out of the building. Dixon fell into step beside him, cracking the hell up over all of it.

  “You better listen to her. She’s got spunk, that one. You shoulda seen her pull Fiona’s signature move yesterday, jumping over the bar and demanding that I bring her here with me,” Dixon said.

  Patriot raised his brows, and Dixon nodded. At his side, Aarica marched them out the doors as if she hadn’t just overheard what Dixon said about her. The guys held the door wide for him to exit through. He stepped out into the air and dragged in a deep breath of mountain air.

  Aarica squeezed his hand. Looking down, he saw the understanding reflected in her gaze—she knew the toll being behind bars overnight had taken on him.

  Hell, maybe she really was the woman he needed by his side. Before now, he hadn’t witnessed her stubborn streak or the bald determination the woman possessed to get her way. Seeing it now made him realize he had no idea of the things she was capable of, because until now he brushed her off as being too young. But young didn’t mean immature or incapable.

  Aarica was far from flighty, and she knew what she wanted. Was he any different at her age? Was he any different now?

  They might be separated by an age gap, but that didn’t mean they weren’t suited to each other. He turned his hand, palm against hers, and clasped her fingers.

  She snapped her head around to stare at him. Then her eyes lit up, a smile crossed her face. Damn, he really was important to this woman.

  The guys parted to reveal one of the stunning new custom bikes Tank recently built and had been sitting on the showroom floor.

  His throat closed off as Dixon gripped his shoulder.

  “We couldn’t get your bike out of impoundment, so we thought you could put the first few miles on this baby.”

  Fuck—how could he have let his revelation of what really happened slide? The thrill of walking free had his brain lapsing from the one thing he’d spent all night locked up dwelling on—burning over.

  He looked around, a growl bursting from his throat. “Where is that little shit?”

  Dixon arched a brow. “Who?”

  “The prospect-wannabe. Hunter. Where the fuck is the prick?” he growled out.

  Aarica rested a hand over his chest as if she could hold him back.

  “What the hell are you talking about, bro?” Dixon asked.

  “I gave Hunter my bike to wash and detail. Then suddenly the sheriff’s arresting me because they found stolen parts on it.”

  “Oh my God!” Aarica stepped away, hand over her mouth.

  He turned to her. “What is it?”

  “Hunter is the guy who follows you like a puppy?”

  He wanted to punch something at the mention of the guy. “Yeah, why?”

  “I noticed something off about him. He was always in the corner just watching and wearing a weird look on his face. Actually...that look I saw on his face when you were outside the Painted Pig speaking with the deputy…”

  Heart hammering, he waited for more.

  “Hunter had this twisted smile. At the time, I thought of it as a smirk but I thought I was reading it wrong, that if he was loyal to you that he was really angry with the deputy.”

  “He’s not loyal to me. Thank fuck I never patched him in even as a damn prospect.” His words fell with all the heavy weight of bullets raining down on the head of the man who would pay the price—right after he found him.

  He looked at the guys still fanned around him. “Get on the road and look for that motherfucker. First man who finds him chains him up in the club so I can come pound the truth out of him.”

  Since he was the sergeant at arms for the MC and gave commands about their security, the guys took action, scattering to climb on their bikes and speed out through Mersey.

  Patriot pulled Aarica’s hand, towing her fast to the new bike. “Put this on.” He grabbed one of the helmets dangling off the handlebar and thrust it toward her.

  She whipped it onto her head and fastened it into place, and damn, he wished he could watch her swing her leg over the bike over and over again, all day long, but there wasn’t time. He had a criminal to catch and teach a lesson to, right before he handed Hunter over to the sheriff.

  When he seated himself on the bike and started the engine to a fine purr, he didn’t need to tell his woman to wrap her arms around him. She scooted close with her pussy sealed against his body and her thighs tightening around his hips. She stretched her fingers over his abs and held on as they shot onto the road.

  “Baby.” He spoke into his mic’d helmet and she jerked at the sound of his voice filling hers. His chuckle caught him by surprise. That he had any emotion but fury against the man who’d acted as a friend, and then betrayed him by setting him up for a crime he never committed, surprised the hell out of him.

  “The helmets are synced so we can talk,” he told her.

  “It was a shock to hear your voice.”

  He thought of what he wanted to say to her. What could he say that meant he was sorry for trying to shove her away while letting her know what she meant to him? He couldn’t think of any words.

  “I’m glad you’re with me,” he said simply.

  He heard the smile echo in her voice when she answered, “I’m glad too.”

  He covered her hand with his own and rode with his woman wrapped around him for the first time.

  Aarica slid her gaze to the women clustered in the corner of the clubhouse, watching her and whispering about her. She tried to ignore the
m, but she didn’t often meet with people who flat-out disliked her for no reason.

  Her cousins would tell her to hold her head high and ignore them, and she would. She pulled her soda to her lips and took a sip while listening for any hint of what was happening behind the door.

  Over an hour ago, Hunter had been found hiding out in a relative’s house. The guys had dragged him out kicking and screaming, according to accounts she overheard, and they really had chained him up in the room in the back of the clubhouse. The deep, disturbing silence that followed when they closed the door still set her on edge. She pushed her soda away and cast another look at the women in the corner.

  Honeys, Patriot had once called them. Were any of them his honey? Judging by the glare of one in particular, she thought maybe it was true. The woman had been the same one to drop into Patriot’s lap that first night she’d seen him at the Painted Pig. He’d shoved her away then, but the woman obviously believed Aarica to be the reason for it.

  Another woman suddenly pulled out the chair opposite Aarica at the round table and plopped into it. The stunning woman offered her a smile.

  “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you.”

  She blinked. “Oh?”

  “Yup. I’m Catarina. Tank’s my man.”

  She pictured the huge man who looked to be able to rip a man in two with his bare hands but had a smile ready for Aarica the few times she was around him.

  “I’m Aarica.”

  “I know. You’re a legend at the Painted Pig now.”

  She stared at her. “What?”

  The curly-haired woman grinned. “Dixon told everyone about that move you pulled, where you leaped over the bar and demanded to go with him to free Patriot.”

  Straightening, she shook her head. “I’m not sure what that has to do with being a legend.”

  She chuckled. “It’s something that Fiona is known to do at the first sign of trouble.”

  Gaping at her, she couldn’t feel more stunned. “I didn’t realize she did that. I’ve never seen it.”

  Catarina laughed and grew prettier for it, though how was a mystery to Aarica. The woman was already at model status, with her freckles and big green eyes.