Patriot (Dark Falcons Book 3)

by Em Petrova

  Three hours at the Painted Pig left her burning with frustration. Not one Dark Falcon walked through those doors, and her hopes of seeing Patriot again faded as the night wore on.

  She threw Fiona another look and chewed on her lip. She could ask her new boss where they were, casual-like.

  She leaned around Fiona for a glass to pour a draft beer for a customer. “Quiet here tonight,” she said to lead up to her question.

  Fiona looked toward the back of the room, where a few guys shot pool. “Yeah.”

  Aarica followed her gaze. “The Dark Falcons don’t come in every night?”

  She smiled. “Only a few times a week. There’s a party at the clubhouse tonight.”

  “Clubhouse? Where is that?”

  “On the other side of town.”

  Seeing she wouldn’t learn more information on that topic, she asked, “Must be important to celebrate in the middle of the week.”

  Fiona smiled. “They’re patching in a member who is long overdue.”

  She delivered the beer to the customer, placed the payment in the register drawer, the tip into her apron pocket, and thanked him with a smile. Then she began to dry glasses while talking to Fiona.

  “I admit I don’t know much about MCs. Only what you see or hear on TV.”

  “The Dark Falcons aren’t that kind of club. Not only is my boyfriend the president but my brothers are members. They’re on the up and up.”

  A couple guys came in, followed by a deputy sheriff in uniform.

  “I’ll take the deputy,” Fiona said to her quietly and moved to the bar. “What can I get you?”

  “I’m looking for a man who frequents this bar. Hoping you might know his whereabouts tonight.”

  Though she found it hard to focus on serving the other two customers, Aarica managed to pour their drinks while listening in on Fiona’s conversation with the lawman.

  “I don’t know too many of the customers’ names, Deputy,” Fiona told him.

  “I’m looking for a man named Logan Stone. Goes by the nickname of Patriot.”

  Aarica’s insides steeled. Her head whipped around and she stared at the deputy and then shifted her gaze to Fiona.

  Her boss didn’t move or indicate that she recognized the name. “Why are you looking for him?”

  “I need to speak to him regarding a couple recent thefts. If he comes in tonight, tell him I’m looking for him and to call the sheriff’s department.”

  Skitters of dread washed up from the depths of Aarica’s stomach and spread—a wildfire through her system. What was going on? Thefts? Had Patriot been robbed? Her mind went straight to those guys he’d ripped out of their car and tossed in the yard like trash. Maybe they had retaliated. She couldn’t help but think she was to blame if that was the case.

  Just as the deputy turned to leave, the door opened again and three men entered, all in black, two bearing the Dark Falcons patch—and one of them was Patriot.

  He sized up the situation in a heartbeat, gaze flicking from the deputy to Fiona’s face and finally resting on Aarica’s. Energy trilled through her at the impact of his stare, but then he directed his attention away.

  “You looking to talk to me?” His voice grated across the space—and her senses—as he spoke to the deputy.

  The lawman nodded.

  “Let’s take it outside.” Without another word or a backward glance in her direction, Patriot turned and left the building, his friends behind him and the deputy bringing up the rear.

  “Shit.” Fiona threw her a look. “Hold down the fort.” She grabbed her phone, shot off a text to someone—most likely her boyfriend and MC president. Then she ran out the door.

  Aarica stared after them, gripping the edge of the bar. That pounding in her chest was dread. She knew little about small-town life but she wasn’t blind. Something big was going down, with Patriot at the center of it all.

  She inched out from around the bar, throwing a glance at the customers. Everyone seemed to be taken care of for the moment—could she possibly peek outside and see what was happening? What if she witnessed the object of her infatuation being arrested? Her cousins’ voices rose in her head, telling her to back away—she did not want involved in that.

  Still, she walked over to the door. As she flattened a hand against it and pushed it outward, her heart tripped faster. She poked her head out the crack she’d made and surveyed the parking lot.

  Her gaze landed on black leather, and she followed the broad chest upward to find Patriot staring back at her. Quickly, she withdrew her head and hurried on wobbly legs to the bar once more.

  She replayed the scene. The sheriff standing with Patriot, the other Dark Falcon and the third man who seemed to be some sort of sidekick, standing off to the side with an odd smirking smile on his face. Fiona beside them, arms folded and looking about to slay a man. The family feeling she got from the group was something Aarica understood so well. If one of her cousins ended up in the principal’s office, one of the brothers would hear about it and barge in to back him up, whether he was allowed to be there or not.

  Seeing that just now made her more certain that Patriot was innocent in the matter.

  Not five minutes passed and then a rumble started outside. Pretty soon she realized the noise came from the engines of every motorcycle in town associated with the Dark Falcons. Of course the moment she wanted to run to the door and look out again, a group of guys requested whiskey shots all around to celebrate a birthday that she stopped listening to the details about.

  She set shot glasses up as fast as possible and poured down the row, took the money and was about to run to the door to look out again, when Fiona returned.

  Feeling the air sucked from her lungs, Aarica made eye contact with her. Her sassy little boss appeared flushed. Ticked off too.

  “Everything okay?” She attempted to keep her voice casual as Fiona returned to the bar.

  “Freakin’ peachy.”

  She burned to ask more, but Fiona hadn’t been clued in about her hookup with Patriot or that they’d bumped into each other several other times. She also probably hadn’t heard that he’d ripped two men from their car for whistling and calling to her, or that the third guy had sprinted down the road to get away from him.

  Or that the attraction between them bordered on planetary. She certainly saw stars when she so much as thought about Patriot.

  When Fiona extended a hand to reach for a glass, her hand trembled.

  Alarm hit Aarica, and she placed a hand gently over her forearm. Fiona looked at her.

  “I’ll get the drink. Maybe I should pour you one too.”

  Fiona relinquished the glass to her and stepped aside to lean against the bar. “I’ll have some Jack.”

  “Coming right up.” She nodded and poured the customer’s drink and then the shot for her boss. Despite the fact that drinking behind the bar wasn’t allowed, this called for desperate measures. Her boss slammed it down and set the glass on the counter.

  “Dammit,” she ground out.

  Concern left a sticky black dread inside Aarica. She pitched her voice low. “Can I help at all?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but it’s something the guys will need to handle.”

  She wanted to ask about the situation but bit off the words. “Well, the offer stands.”

  “You’re a good woman, Aarica. Thank you.”

  With a soft smile at the compliment, Aarica nodded. After a minute passed, she said, “Who was that third guy? The one not wearing a patch?”

  “A guy who wants to become a prospect. Friend of Patriot’s. Why?”

  That look on his face must have been a smirk of disgust at the sheriff was questioning his friend. She knew loyalty ran deep in MCs.

  “No reason,” she said. “I just wondered.”

  She listened to the engines rev again and finally fade away, and she knew Patriot wouldn’t return to the bar tonight.

  Chapter Five

  Son of a bitch.
Whoever stole that shit and hung the crime on Patriot’s neck better be living on another goddamn continent. Because when he got ahold of him, the guy’d be dead and Patriot in prison.

  The anger inside him leveled on a boiling point, and he gripped the handlebars of his bike harder, wishing he could squeeze the metal into the shape of his hands.

  The party for Blade had been in full swing when he, Diesel and Hunter made a run to the Painted Pig to pick up a big order of Blade’s favorite hot wings from Fiona. They got no farther than the door when they were confronted by the deputy. After that, more talking in circles ensued, with the same questions being thrown at Patriot about the thefts.

  When the guys caught wind, the celebration ground to a quick halt and shit went south from there. Everything from talk of a manhunt to find the real criminal to blaming it on the Mayhem, the biker gang they’d driven from Mersey months ago, sprang up.

  In the end, he had to get the hell away. Except the open road couldn’t offer the peace he sought tonight.

  He kept seeing Aarica’s eyes when she peeked out of the bar and saw him being questioned by the deputy. Goddammit, that made him see red more than actually being accused. Having her form a bad opinion of him… No. Just no.

  Which was how he ended up at the Painted Pig. He hoped to hell Aarica was still here. If not, he planned to weasel her address out of Fiona. Either way, he would see the woman and set her straight about him.

  But he had to keep his hands off her.

  After parking near the place where the employees exited, he cut the engine and sat there, straddling his bike and waiting for her. A small older model car sat parked next to Fiona’s, and as far as he knew, nobody else worked tonight.

  From through the thin wall of the bar, he heard some bangs and clanks as the pair closed down the kitchen. Soon the sounds stopped, and he listened to the thump of his heart.

  What would he say to her?

  I want you. More than I damn well should.

  He gripped his handlebars again and stared unblinkingly at the open door. A moment later, a woman stepped out. Fiona spotted him, and he caught her look of surprise in the glow of the overhead parking lamp. He lifted a hand in acknowledgement.

  When Aarica appeared behind her a second later, his stomach dipped. Hell, he couldn’t fool himself into believing his own bullshit. He wouldn’t keep his hands off her.

  She locked her gaze on him where he waited for her in the darkness.

  Fiona looked between them. “Everything okay?”

  He gave a nod. Aarica pivoted to her, and the music of her soft voice reached him, twisting up his guts. “It’s fine, Fiona. Thanks. See you next shift.”

  Fiona might be protective as hell of her employees, but she was also the old lady of a Dark Falcon, and she knew when to walk away and mind her own business. She climbed behind the wheel, backed out and drove off before Aarica moved.

  He swung his leg off his Harley and approached her slowly. He felt so damn tense he might crack at any moment. Clenching his fists, he battled the urge to pin her against the wall of the bar and claim that sweet mouth of hers.

  As he neared, she tipped her beautiful face up to him. That tumbling sensation of his heart rolling downhill should be nothing more than lust, but if that was the case, then why didn’t he feel himself growing hard first?

  “Thanks for waiting.” His voice came out rough.

  She visibly shivered and wrapped her arms around her middle. Her arms were bare in a T-shirt, and even in the low lighting coming from the parking lamp he realized her skin stood out in gooseflesh.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” she said.

  He arched a brow. “You did?”

  She nodded. “I wanted to ask why you pulled those guys out of their car.”

  Hell. He didn’t know himself. Except he’d been working on the Posts’ garage and heard them calling out lewd things to someone. When he came out to investigate—and spotted Aarica pushing a lawnmower across the street wearing nothing but shorts that revealed the undercurve of her ass and a string barely holding up her breasts with what hardly passed as a tank top over the ensemble, red lights pulsed before his vision.

  “I was teaching them a lesson.”

  She tipped her head in that adorable way she had where she looked both young and full of innocence and wore a skeptical don’t-bullshit-me expression at the same time. “A lesson in what?”

  “Manners.” He took a step closer. To his relief, she stood waiting. When he closed his hands around her upper arms, chilled to the night air, and lightly rubbed some warmth into her skin, he knew for sure he lost his mind.

  Her eyes widened at the first stroke of his hands. She inched closer, but no encouragement was needed—he caught her in his arms, drawing her against his length.

  Face tipped up and her lips parted on a gasp, she let her eyelids flutter shut, giving him ample opportunity to study her beauty unchecked. When she opened her eyes, the expression he wore drew a harsh moan from her lips.

  “Patriot…”

  “What is it about you that I can’t stay away from? Or is it you who can’t stay away from me?” he rasped.

  “Both.” She ran her tongue along her lower lip, making it gleam in the dim lighting.

  “Fuck.” The curse tore from his throat a split second before he wrapped her long hair in his fist, tipped her head all the way back and lowered his mouth to the thumping pulse in her throat.

  She squelched a cry and threw her arms around him as he bent her backward, sucking on her neck and drawing her onto tiptoes to move closer to him.

  He tasted up and down the column of her neck and reached her ear. With his mouth close to the shell, he rumbled, “I wanted to beat those guys’ asses.”

  Her fingers tightened on his shoulders. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want anybody looking at you.” Damn, that was some ‘you’re mine’ bullshit and a property patch about to be tossed down.

  “Why?” she pressed on, twisting her head so the silky strands of her hair slipped through his fingers.

  Their gazes clashed.

  “Because I’m the only one who can do that.” He kissed her.

  She opened to him immediately, giving his tongue every advantage to sweep the hot interior of her mouth and dive deep. His cock stretched against his fly as he dragged her body into his hold and pushed her against the wall as he wanted to do before.

  She broke from the kiss long enough to lever herself in a display of strength, shimmying up his body to wrap her thighs around his waist.

  He rocked his cock into her. She moaned a plea against his lips that had him shaking for control. He would not take her out in the open night air a second time.

  As she molded herself to his body, he took control again, kissing her until he couldn’t remember any reason on Earth why he couldn’t take her.

  He went for her delectable throat again, drawing paths up and down in long sweeps with his tongue as his cock damn near broke his zipper. The taste of her. Those tiny moans breaking from her lips. All the sweetness he shouldn’t want but dammit, he did.

  Raising his head, he pierced her in his stare. After a few heartbeats, her eyes cleared of some of the passion.

  “You know what you do to me?” His voice roughened more.

  “The same thing you do to me. I knew it in that campsite, when I saw you on the roof, the first time I saw you here at the bar…and the park when you were so wonderful with Jay.”

  “Dammit.” He braced her into the wall and twisted his head from the truth.

  Her light touch on his jaw brought his face to hers. Their lips hovered so close, he tasted her without so much as a flick of his tongue. “Why fight it? We both know there’s a reason we keep getting thrown together.”

  “Because you’re too young.”

  “Old enough to be on my own and make my own way.”

  He let her slip down the wall a little, but she refused to unlatch her heels from his spine and anchored
herself in place.

  “I’m not that inexperienced, Patriot. I just haven’t gone all the way because I was taught to save that for someone special.”

  Jesus H. Christ. His eyes fluttered shut. Special. That sure as fuck wasn’t him.

  “I’m not the man you’re looking for then.”

  She brushed her fingers over the stubble on his jaw. Leaning in, she planted her baby-soft lips over his in an insistent stamp. It felt like heaven. It felt like hell.

  It felt like a claiming.

  Maybe he had no control over this attraction, after all.

  He kissed her with all the heat scorching his insides, dragging her closer and sinking his tongue into her mouth and then chased it around until he thought fuck it, he’d take her up against the wall of the bar and damn the consequences.

  “Not your first time.” He panted. “I won’t take you here for your first time.”

  “Then come home with me.” Her voice came out as the plea of an angel, which only made him feel blacker.

  “Aarica. Fuck, I want to. But I can’t.”

  She stared at his mouth, eyes downcast and he spotted the web of shadows cast across her cheeks from her long lashes, just as before at camp.

  “What do I need to do to prove to you I’m good enough?” she whispered.

  Her words punched the air from his lungs. It took him a second to sputter through the thoughts in his mind before he could spit out a sentence. “You think you’re not good enough? Hell, baby. You’re everything a man like me could ever dream of having. But that’s just it—it’s a fantasy.”

  “Why a fantasy? I know you’re not a bad guy. You work hard for a living. You do good work. You do good things with the club. What about that autism night at the fair? And I know that whatever the deputy is questioning you about, you didn’t do it.”

  He dropped his head forward. “I came back to convince you that I didn’t and you already knew.” His rumbled words against the heat of her throat made her shiver in his arms.

  “I don’t know why I know, but I do. Deep down, I just feel it. There’s a knot from here”—she pressed her fist over her heart—“to here.” She pressed it over his.