Patriot (Dark Falcons Book 3)

by Em Petrova

  More whispers projected from the corner.

  “Don’t worry about them, sweetie,” Catarina raised her voice so they heard. “They’re only here because they’re man hunting. They want someone to take care of them.”

  One of the women stood and stalked out. Another followed, leaving the other two grouped tighter, talking in furious murmurs.

  Aarica tugged on a lock of hair. “I’ve never spoken to them, but they seem to hate me.”

  “It’s because you snagged one of the most eligible Dark Falcons. That one in the red top’s been gunning for Patriot since day one.”

  She slipped her gaze to the woman, who sent her a knife-edged glare.

  “Has Patriot ever…been with her?” She didn’t want to be that kind of jealous woman, but she had to know.

  Catarina’s eyes softened with sympathy. “Not that any of us know of. If he had, she’d be wrapped tighter around him, so my guess is no. Besides, he’s not that stupid.”

  Amusement bubbled up in Aarica’s throat, and she couldn’t contain it. After the stress of having him arrested and then his clear intention to drive her away from him during those heavy seconds after they set eyes on each other again, followed by the search for Hunter and now the long, frightening silence that seemed to go on and on, she never expected to laugh.

  Catarina joined in, and the women in the corner stood and walked out of the clubhouse in a huff of fried hair, unnaturally long fingernails and bad attitudes.

  “Looks as if the trash took itself out.” Catarina’s announcement had them both breaking down in more laughter.

  Suddenly, the door opened. Two men walked out—Diesel and the one they called Blade. Their scowls made her shoot to her feet, and Catarina stood as well.

  Next a pair of boots exited horizontally through the door, carried by Tank. Aarica gasped as denim-covered legs followed. His knees were duct-taped together.

  Reaching out, she grabbed at Catarina’s arm as a shocked gasp hit her. Was that man Tank carried…dead?

  More of his body appeared, until she spotted his arms pinned to his body with rope, a bungee cord and plenty of duct tape mummifying him to the shoulders, which another man carried. The man known as Rio bore half of Hunter’s weight.

  With wide eyes, Aarica stared at Hunter’s face. Expecting to see a death mask, she actually gasped out loud when he blinked. He bore a few bruises and a swollen eye, as if they’d roughed him up to get the answers they needed.

  They watched the men carry him outside. Catarina rushed after them, but Aarica stood rooted in place, waiting for Patriot to emerge from the room forbidden to all who weren’t in the MC.

  Locking her hand on the table to hold herself in place and keep from running to find him, she felt her heart thump harder. The man she was falling for was capable of things she never imagined before. But seeing it with her own eyes didn’t frighten her as she thought they would. He took care of himself and found justice where the legal system had failed him. He was her very own primal warrior, a Viking of modern times.

  He stepped out, and their gazes locked. She knew from the stress lines on his face that he waited for her reaction to what she’d just seen.

  She hurried around the table, walked straight up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  He brought his hand to her lower back and bowed his head against her hair. “It’s over, baby. It’s gonna be all right now.”

  Chapter Eight

  Patriot scrubbed a hand over his tired face. He hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours and wringing the truth out of that little fucker who claimed to be his friend—his brother—had taken more of a toll on him than he cared to admit.

  The minute the man was brought before Patriot, he realized that this wouldn’t come easy. And it hadn’t. Simply demanding that Hunter spill the truth had only resulted in seeing that smirk Aarica told him about and he now witnessed for himself.

  Damn that kid. He’d used his link with Patriot to hang those crimes on him, stealing into those houses after their crew had worked there. Replacing the parts on his own bike with the ones from the stolen bike and then going to the sheriff about it. Thinking of the trust he’d betrayed really sent Patriot’s blood pressure through the cloud cover.

  But in the end, with a few well-placed punches and threats, he’d gotten the kid to spill everything. They got it on video and then had carted him off to the sheriff to deal with.

  Now he wanted his woman—to sleep with her in his arms and wake to her soft body riding him.

  He planned to claim her this time. She wouldn’t need to beg for it, because he was finished fighting his instinct to make her his.

  His plan to drive to her apartment and sweep her into his arms the minute she opened the door was a beacon to him in the night. He stepped into his dark garage and flicked on the light. His gaze landed on the bike he was borrowing and stopped dead. Was he seeing things?

  Aarica perched there on the leather seat, without a stitch of clothing on. Her warm locks tumbled over her breasts, the ends tickling against the hardened points and her bare thighs closed so he couldn’t see the treat between.

  With a jolt, he realized she was no illusion.

  “How did you get in?” he grated out from lust and lack of sleep. His instantly hard cock told him there wouldn’t be any rest for the wicked—not tonight.

  A soft smile passed over her beautiful face. Slowly, she lifted one leg in a seductive pose, to reveal her slick pussy.

  “Jesus Christ, baby.” He crossed the garage in a few strides, still believing her to be a mirage to a parched man until he closed his hands around her shoulders, leaned in and kissed her.

  Her soft gasp woke him fully. She pressed upward into his kiss, parted her lips and sucked his tongue into her mouth. A grunt of desire escaped him unchecked. He was through holding back with this woman. Some higher power had sent her to him like a sweet, tormenting angel, and he didn’t care how far he fell when he took her for himself.

  Delivering greedy passes of his tongue to her, he skated his hands down her spine to the dip of her waist and then lower to cup her ass where it rested on the leather seat.

  He worked his body between her thighs so they spread around him. The scent of her arousal flooded his senses and stole the last bit of control he might have a grip on.

  Lifting her, he broke the kiss to look into her eyes. She locked her thighs around his middle and her arms around his neck. Meeting his gaze, she whispered, “You’re not turning me away tonight.”

  “No.” The grit in his voice might be determination or madness.

  A soft smile tipped the corner of her lips, and a gleam came into her eyes as she rubbed her body sensuously against him.

  He hardly remembered leaving the garage and storming with her in his arms through his dark house. He’d planned to go to her, and instead she’d come to him, because she needed him. Or knew he needed her.

  When he stretched her out on his bed and slammed his mouth over hers, she tore at his hair, his leather jacket and then his shirt. As the hot, tight peaks of her breasts met his bare chest, she wiggled, and his cock gave one hard, threatening throb that told him his time to claim her was ticking by too fast. Between lack of sleep and holding back with her, he couldn’t wait.

  But first, he had to ready her. The thought entered his mind and he had to slow things or risk hurting her the first time.

  Closing his hands on her breasts, he watched her face contort in pleasure. Foreplay never seemed so achingly sweet or so pure. It was always a means to an end, where he’d get off and blow his load in order to ease himself for another week or month. Not this time, with this woman.

  He sucked at her nipples with soft pulls of his mouth, growing increasingly more insistent with every rough moan from her lips. He bit into one juicy tip, and she scrabbled at his shoulders with her short nails.

  “Patriot! Please!”

  He had no doubt in his mind that she knew exactly what she wanted from him.
/>   He teased his fingers over her mound, through her pussy curls and nestled his fingertip over her hard bud. She bucked against his hand and cried out.

  While he sucked and nipped at her breasts, he circled her pleasure nub with light pressure meant to torment. Seconds later, she came on his fingertip and then he plunged the same finger into her pussy.

  The hot, tight clench of her walls on his finger ripped a growl from his throat. He almost dropped his jeans then and fucked her. Somehow, he managed to hold on enough to stretch her for him. Using one finger and then two, he felt her tight virgin walls give way to him as another orgasm shattered through her.

  She looked up at him, panting, her eyes wide with lust and something else that had his own heart flipping over.

  I’m in love with her.

  The realization he always believed would scare the hell out of him and send him running actually grounded him. He pressed his fingers higher, against the tender wall of her pussy until she flooded for him.

  “I want your cock in me. Now.” Her breathless demand came out with a rough edge that reflected her need.

  When she reached for his waistband and unbuttoned his jeans, slid down his fly and then cupped his throbbing length through his boxer briefs, he let her have her way. He’d give this woman anything in the world to make her happy.

  She drew his arousal out and into her silky hand, gliding it through her fist from root to swollen, red, mushroomed, leaking tip.

  “A condom,” he rasped.

  She shook her head. “I’m on birth control.”

  Surprise lifted his head, and he pierced her in his stare. “For what?”

  “Bad periods, since I was sixteen.”

  “And you’ve been saving yourself despite that?”

  “Yes. Until now. Patriot…”

  He couldn’t resist the pull of her gaze any longer. He shed his boots and the rest of his clothes. Covering her with his body, he kissed her long and deep. The tangle of their tongues nearly unmanned him, but he clung to his control.

  Grasping his cock in hand, he ran the thick head through her folds. When he bumped against her clit, she cried out. Damn, but he wanted to explore that more—getting her off just by rubbing his cock over her slick pussy. That was for another time, when he had more willpower.

  Clenching his jaw, he angled toward her entrance. She didn’t even tense, holding onto him and watching his face as he fed her his cock.

  Girlfriends always told Aarica that sex hurt the first time. But when Patriot slid right through her barrier and deep into her pussy, she barely felt a twinge. He had her so ready and primed for him, how could she feel anything but acute pleasure?

  Waves of desire burned down her spine and spread through her entire body as he stared down into her eyes.

  “All right?” he rasped out.

  “Yes. Very well, actually.”

  His teeth flashed on a grin. “So polite while my cock is buried inside you.”

  She felt the pressure to move, to rub herself against him, and when she tested it by rolling her hips, she saw the grimace of what appeared to be pain cross his face.

  “Fuck, I want to pound my cock into you, but I can’t and won’t. Not yet.” He withdrew with a slow gyration of his hips, and she let out a long moan.

  He kissed her, and her soul seemed to blossom to him. She rocked into the next thrust, yanking a barbaric noise from him. Shivers sped along her nerves. Passion flooded in.

  She held on as he took her in gentle glides until she felt the burn of release claiming her. As she let go, coming for the first time ever on his cock, their eyes locked.

  “I’m in love with you,” she choked out.

  “Fuck, baby. Hold on to me.” He levered himself into her faster, taking her to the brink of an orgasm she never knew before. The first hot splash of his cum and the shout of ecstasy he issued had her riding the waves with him. Cresting, pulled deep under the waters. Then he tumbled apart from her and leaned on his elbow to stare into her face as he slid his finger along her cheek.

  “Did I hurt you?” Concern burned in his eyes.

  She shook her head. “I was more than ready.”

  “I’m relieved,” he admitted. “I’ve never deflowered a woman before.”

  She grinned and wrapped her fingers around his thick, muscled biceps where his Dark Falcons tattoo rode along the tanned skin.

  “You can take it back, you know.”

  She blinked in confusion at his words. “Take back what?”

  “What you said about loving me. You’re young—got caught up in the moment. I won’t lock you to me if you want to walk away now.”

  Staring at him in shock, she could only open and close her mouth on words she couldn’t seem to form. “Patriot. I meant every word,” she finally managed.

  As soon as she spoke, she watched the relief pass over his rugged features. He closed his eyes first and then dropped his forehead against hers, breathing deep and even as if he’d just taken his first breath of life.

  “I’m so damn glad, baby.”

  “Didn’t I tell you that I saved myself for someone special? Do you think I’d say you’re not special enough and thanks for the ride?”

  A hint of a smile passed over his face. “I promise I’m not usually so simpleminded.”

  “No, you’re just stubborn at seeing that people actually want to be with you.”

  He grew silent a long moment. Finally, he said, “I was wrong about Hunter’s motivations.”

  She knew he’d thrash himself for this sooner or later.

  “I let him go from my crew on good terms. I figured he must not harbor resentments. All the time he was looking to screw me over.”

  Running a hand down his chest, she tried to think of something to ease the sting of that betrayal, but nothing came to mind. “He was pretty convincing. Everyone in the club was fooled—not only you.”

  “You saw right through him.”

  She raised her head and studied his eyes. “I should have brought up my misgivings sooner. This might have been avoided.”

  “No, it was too late for that. He’d already followed the crew and stolen from the job sites.”

  She felt him growing more relaxed as minutes sped by. She thought he might drift off, when his voice rumbled up.

  “Hold onto me again.” He flipped her over him and tucked her into every hard plane of his body. She nestled into him, a perfect fit when he rested his jaw on her head. She listened to his heart thumps slow and then recognized his deep, rhythmic breathing as exhaustion claimed him and he drifted to sleep.

  The pull of desire from being plastered to his chiseled body would have to wait—her man needed his rest.

  She grinned against his warm, bulky chest.

  “Dix, can we talk?” Patriot was getting a little sick of hearing himself say that.

  Luckily, his prez didn’t shoot him the glare he expected. He stood from the table he shared with a few other Dark Falcons and waved for him to follow him to the meeting room.

  They faced each other the same as the first time, what seemed like only short days ago, when he first informed him about the thefts.

  Patriot eyed him. “I’ve been thinkin’ about the good of the club.”

  “If you’re about to say you’re leaving because of what happened, I refuse to accept your resignation,” Dixon cut over him.

  He stared at him for several seconds. “I’m glad to hear that. It feels good to know I’m still wanted after all the shit I brought down on the MC. That’s why I wanted to talk about the way we’ve been accepting members.”

  Cocking his head, Dixon waited.

  “We started in your garage with a handful of friends. Since then, the Dark Falcons’ ranks have grown so much.”

  “It sounds as if you’re questioning that now.”

  “I am.” Patriot braced his legs wider. “The problem with other clubs is they stab each other in the backs until nobody’s left standing. They’re supposed to be bro
thers, but there’s no one loyal left to count on.”

  Dixon gave a stiff nod. “That’s true. I’ve seen it myself in other chapters we ride with.”

  “We can’t have that. I think it’s time to really examine the members we have in the Dark Falcons. We can’t trust these prospects coming to us asking to join.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me. And the only way to keep this clubhouse filled with something good.”

  Patriot felt himself relax. “I’m glad you see things the same way I do.”

  “Been thinkin’ on it more with all the shit that went down. We could use some new rules when it comes to members.”

  “Honeys too. That one named Rochelle needs to go. She causes too much trouble around here. She’s a fire just waiting to start. All she needs is a reason.”

  “You’re right on that count too. She goes now. We don’t need women like that hanging around. If the guys want pussy, they can find it themselves instead of having it waiting around for them to take it.” Dixon scuffed his knuckles over his jaw. “We’ll call the guys in to a meeting.”

  “Better do it before Diesel goes outta town for his sister’s wedding.”

  “We’ll do it tonight.”

  Patriot held out a hand, and Dixon grasped it. “Thanks for everything, man.”

  “Dude, you know I got your back. That shit won’t change.”

  With a warmth in his chest, Patriot stepped out of the room again, to see Aarica standing there. The minute the door opened, her gaze tracked to him. He dragged in a deep breath when their gazes locked.

  The sway of her hips seemed amplified to him when she walked up to him. Might be his imagination, but he knew he’d put that swing in them. And she claimed to love him.

  A knot of possessiveness yanked tight in his core as he drew her against his chest. Over her head, he caught Rochelle’s glare, and then she stomped out. Dixon followed the woman, and Patriot knew he was cleaning house and telling her never to step foot on Dark Falcons property again.

  Cupping Aarica’s jaw, he tipped her face to his. “What have you been doing all day?”