Patriot

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by Trent Jordan


  I knew that I shouldn’t. There was nothing good to be gained from agreeing to grab a beer with him, least of all, because I didn’t have any intention of agreeing with him. But you know what?

  He was kind of cute. And I really didn’t have any other plans. If I was going to grab a beer with someone, it made sense to at least do it with someone attractive.

  Attractive, or hot?

  As soon as that thought returned, everything went out.

  “You guys never learn, do you?” I said. “You think I’m going to bend over that easily?”

  “No, I don’t,” Michael said. “I don’t expect you to do anything. I understand that if you don’t want to talk to me, you have good reason to. But I genuinely don’t think any harm can come from a conversation.”

  Fuck, he was good. But that was the thing—I didn’t think he was trying to be “good.” I think he was just being honest and himself.

  Michael was driving me insane at how much sense he was making. This was a terrible fucking idea, and I felt like I was getting sucked into a sales pitch that would suddenly last all night. But…

  If I could repeal him, maybe it would finally end this stupid shit once and for all.

  “Fine,” I said. “One beer, though. Not a drop more.”

  “One beer,” Michael agreed. “Want me to drive us?”

  “Hah, cute, but no,” I said. “I know how it works. I get on the bike, I fall for you, you win me over, I start working for you, and then six months later, I’m wondering how I wound up in this spot. Nice try, but no. I will drive myself.”

  “Okay,” Michael said, unfazed.

  Most men were usually so flustered by that point they would have just canceled the plans or turned so meek that I would have canceled it. It was kind of impressive that Michael didn’t, and I liked a guy who was both polite and willing to stand up to me. Unfortunately, probably ninety-nine percent of men were just one of the two or neither of the two.

  And in any case, I reminded myself, this had nothing to do with liking him. I was biting the bullet here to show that no one could persuade anyone at this hospital to work off the clock for them.

  “How would meeting up at Brewskis sound?”

  I folded my arms. I hadn’t been to Brewskis before, but that wasn’t the concern. Letting him have a say in this was.

  “Sorry, but if you’re going to talk to me, you’re going to do it on my terms,” I said.

  At that, Michael smiled, almost as if daring me to keep pushing me to go. Well, I supposed it worked, because I did.

  “If you think you’re going to charm me with your smile, forget it, Michael,” I said. “I’m only going to get a drink with you because I can finally shut your club the hell up.”

  “If you did on a Thursday night in this town? I’d be asking you where to go because there ain’t much here.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said before catching myself. “Bottle Evolution. I’ll see you there. Or not, I don’t care.”

  Michael, in his most casual, slow-paced manner yet, shrugged. His nonchalance was somehow pissing me off more. No, not pissing me off—but it was evoking some sort of feeling.

  “Would I have come this far and asked you to join me for a discussion if I was going to surprise you and just not take you up at the end?”

  Ah, jeez. It’s like the charm is at level ten right now. Okay, fine.

  “Probably not,” I said, moving past him. “I’ll see you there.”

  I brushed by him, trying my best not to look at his handsome smile and his lit-up eyes. He certainly also had a nice elegance to him, although that may have only been in comparison to LeCharles, who was brusque, rude, and arrogant.

  I didn’t think it was going to be much, though. It would give me a story at the office the next day, and Michael would quickly realize that if he couldn’t persuade me to help the club, absolutely no one was. It was my chance to nip this in the bud once and for all.

  Assuming I remembered the difference between hot and attractive.

  I got to Bottle Evolution at the same time that Michael did, a fact that was not lost on him.

  “You’re good with timing, huh?” he said.

  “I’m good with doing what I say I’m going to do,” I said. “I told you I was headed there, and here I am. I’m not one of those girls who’s going to play games and say I’ll meet you somewhere and then make you wait half an hour.”

  “Well, I appreciate that.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head,” I warned. “You’re nice and handsome, but you’re also part of a biker gang.”

  “Club.”

  “And I’m a doctor but get paid as a nurse,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “I mean, I’ve always had a thing for nurses, but…”

  Michael cut himself off, cleared his throat, and apologized.

  “That was a bad joke. You didn’t deserve that.”

  It was. But it also lodged in my head for some reason.

  I had probably been a little too mean right there. I didn’t mind talking shit to guys who deserved it, but Michael had treated me well so far. If he wanted his group to be called a club, well, Michael might have deserved it.

  No one else, though.

  And the Black Reapers were still a gang, as far as I was concerned. I would just hold my tongue around this guy.

  When we got inside, I went immediately for my apple-flavored cider. Michael spent a few minutes looking around, so I told him I would wait for him at a table out back. I quickly paid for my cider before Michael got any ideas, went to the rear, cracked open the bottle at a wooden, long table, and took a sip.

  How did I agree to this again? Because I had sympathy for Michael being a nice guy? Now I’m wondering if he and LeCharles planned that on purpose. A whole good cop/bad cop sort of routine.

  Just remember to end it all here, and you’ll prevent them from ever talking to you again.

  I hope.

  I told myself to stop the harsh internal monologue. Being aggressive and firm in what I stood for was fine; choosing to believe nutty, improbable theories because it bolstered my position was walking down a line I didn’t want to find myself in.

  Michael came out a few moments later and sat across from me, a smile on his face. Now that I saw him fully before me, no motorcycle equipment on, with his full attention on me, I realized that, well, he was really handsome.

  I wasn’t about to admit that out loud, of course. And that didn’t mean anything about how I felt. To me, it was like being in a rich person’s home and seeing a nice painting—I could admire the aesthetics of it, but that didn’t mean I was going to demand to buy the painting.

  Remember. Hot? Or attractive?

  “Quite the nice night, huh?”

  The personality, though, was going to be a little bit tougher to ignore.

  “It is,” I said in agreement. “Most of my nights, I just go home and relax.”

  “As do I,” he said.

  “Really?” I said suspiciously. “I thought bikers got most of their ‘work’ done at night.”

  Michael just shrugged casually as he sipped on his porterhouse beer.

  “Some days, sure,” he said. “But honestly, most of the time, my club has me working at the auto repair shop in the afternoons and early evenings, and then I head home. It’s like any job. Some periods of time are intensely busy, and others are sluggishly slow.”

  “I see,” I said, even though I didn’t really. “Well, with that in mind, Michael, why don’t you give me the background you want me to know. I don’t think it’ll make a difference, but if I’m out this far, I might as well hear you out.”

  “Keep an open mind while you do,” he said. “I know you think we’re all thugs and criminals and gangsters, but just remember what I say.”

  If you knew what my family has been through, you’d see that it’s not crazy to think about or consider. You seem different.

  But that’s what my sister said about her boyfriend too.


  “The Black Reapers exist to keep Springsville a peaceful place and without the bad element,” he said. “Yes, absolutely, we’ve done some stupid shit. We’ve gotten into fights at bars, we drink too much, sometimes we drive under the influence, that’s all true. You’ve seen us at your hospital. But we strongly believe in protecting our own and caring for our own. Springsville has been good to us from the start, and we want to keep it that way. There are rival factions that would have this place torn asunder through drugs and other violence.”

  I had heard all of this already, especially from other nurses who had had encounters with the various Reapers—and Saints, albeit from the other side. This wasn’t news to me, although the earnestness and honesty with which Michael spoke suggested that he at least believed his own words.

  “Right now, in particular, there’s a group called the Fallen Saints that have become particularly aggressive,” he said. “They’re inflicting a lot of violence and trouble on the area, and rumors are they’re going to start a hard drug trade here.”

  “Define hard,” I said, even though I knew the answer. I was honestly just being a little difficult.

  “Cocaine, meth, anything that would send you to the hospital instead of on a high. And you’re going to see a lot more of that in your hospital and in your patients if the Fallen Saints get in as much as they can.”

  I grimaced at the thought, perhaps the first sign I’d given Michael that what he was saying was reaching me. I wasn’t proud of it, but it was true Springsville didn’t have a major drug problem—for now. If that got added on top of all of the other things we had to deal with...

  “Now, we fight to keep that out, along with the more serious violence,” Michael said. “Yeah, you get the occasional jackass who wants to start a fight at Brewskis or someone who gets offended if they get looked at funny. But we most care about the Saints causing hell here. Which, well, let me put it to you like this... do you believe everything I’ve said so far?”

  “Do I believe it?” I said, surprised to hear Michael trying to ask for my thoughts on it. He really is engaging me. Apparently, there’s a lot to learn about him that I have no idea about. “I mean, I haven’t had a lot of patients come in who were victims of your attacks. But I have a hard time believing you have no bad influence on this town and that you’re all just some sort of outlaw guardian angel group.”

  “And we’re not perfect, I know. But you do realize we’re not some terrorist group or some local menace just beating everyone up.”

  “For now,” I said, but I told myself to stop being so difficult. If Michael was going to be courteous to me, I had to return the favor.

  I still wasn’t going to work for his… group, though.

  “Well, we don’t have any intention of turning into that either, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

  “I know, sorry,” I said.

  Apologizing to a biker. What a fucking night.

  “All good,” he said. “Anyways, where you come into this is that we’re having to combat the Fallen Saints that are making life hell for us in the area. They’re a real pain in the ass, and in some ways, that’s quite literal. They have shot us, tried to kill us, and have made life awful. They have no ethics and have no bounds, so if they see a chance to kill us, they will. As much as we want to believe we can go to a hospital and be okay, our best chances at keeping the club safe is to keep it together. That’s why we want you around.”

  He sighed.

  “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Kaitlyn, and I’m sorry if we’re infringing upon you. We don’t want to put you in a spot where you feel like you’re breaking any rules or helping anyone you don’t want to. We would pay you significantly and would do whatever we need to have you in our corner. But I respect that you have ethics and aren’t willing to break them. It’s something I firmly believe in as well. So... with that all said, thoughts?”

  “Hmm.”

  I had to admit, Michael’s polite but firm tone impressed me. His measured thoughts impressed me. Really, a lot had impressed me about him.

  “You certainly should have been the first person to come to me,” I said. “LeCharles, or Axle, or whatever he goes by, was a bit rude. You are much sweeter and kinder than he is.”

  I even let myself smile at Michael.

  “But I am not going to give in to any of your requests tonight. I did only say I was going to get a drink for the hell of it.”

  “And that’s completely valid.”

  Wait, what?

  “If you’d told me to come and meet you and then you asked something of me the first time, I’d probably say no,” he said. “So I don’t blame you.”

  I was so caught off-guard by this that I had no response.

  “Let me say this, though,” he said. “You’re a good listener. Even if you don’t want to work for us, I find you to be a fair, open-minded individual that I enjoy talking to. Why don’t we meet up again?”

  That question carried some serious undertones of courtship.

  But what was quite possibly worse was that I was experiencing some serious undertones of interest.

  And I had no idea how to feel about that.

  “Fucking hell,” I said, not caring to hide my confusion. “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely. And if you don’t want to, no worries.”

  It just made it even more confusing that he was so at ease with not pressuring me into anything. Like, seriously, how the hell was a biker this comfortable with no?

  “Well,” I said, drawing a breath. “Tell you what. I like you enough that I’m willing to meet you again. Don’t get your hopes up, though, for anything work-related.”

  What did I just say in response to that?

  “I won’t,” he said.

  “You say that, but many a man have ignored that before.”

  Wait, am I talking about dating or his request?

  Michael picked up on my slip, too, because a smirk filled his face that left me pissed at myself. “I like you enough… don’t get your hopes up for work?”

  What am I saying when I say that?

  “By the way,” I said as I started to stand before I let a weird situation get even more bizarre. “Why me? Why not any of the other nurses?”

  Michael chuckled.

  “Honestly, I went to you because Axle fucked up so badly with you, I wanted to make amends,” he said. “But now that I’m with you, I think the club needs a woman like you. Someone who’s not going to take any shit from anyone. Someone who’s going to stand up to an injured Reaper and tell them not to be such a baby. You seem like you could be that kind of person. But you being that kind of person could very well mean you won’t take this job.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Have a good night, Michael.”

  “Wait. Your number?”

  I grabbed a napkin, pulled a pen from my pocket, scribbled it in, and shoved it his way. I nodded to him before walking around and back to my car. It was a bit of an abrupt exit, yeah, almost rude.

  But there was a problem, one made evident by my slip up about men ignoring my request before and that I liked him. I was starting to see him less as a painting to admire from afar and more as a man I was enjoying interacting with.

  That would have been a terrible mistake, and it would’ve been a repeat of the one that my older sister had made with her last boyfriend. I would be walking down a similar path and likely be meeting the same fate if I let myself fall into it. So, feeling it all coming, I walked away.

  And yet...

  Michael was different. No matter how I spun it, he was different. I couldn’t help but wonder how he had gotten me to offer myself up as I had, but he’d done it.

  Now, as I began driving home, I started to have a lot of questions about Michael. How did someone like him wind up in a group like the Black Reapers? What had led him to this small town of Springsville? He didn’t seem like a born-and-raised type of guy here.

  And most of all…

  Hot?r />
  Or attractive?

  I hated that I was getting curious. But I knew I’d hate not knowing even more—especially since, by the sounds of it, the hospital was going to be treating the Reapers a lot more soon.

  Patriot

  Trying to melt Kaitlyn’s exterior was like trying to melt a snowman in thirty-three degree weather—feasibly possible, and happening, but boy was it going at the world’s slowest rate.

  I wasn’t going to let her treat me rudely, but I understood part of the bounce-back process from Axle entailed her trying to assert control and power over the situation. I didn’t really care that much. I was much less concerned with who looked good or who looked in control than I did in actually having someone in our corner for medical care. If we got Kaitlyn to do that, then she could triumph herself over us all she wanted.

  But I didn’t see her doing that. I was beginning to think that, against all likely odds, she had actually begun to soften a bit on us. On me.

  As I walked back to my bike to meet Lane at Brewskis, I knew that she was starting to open up just a tad. Her apology earlier in the conversation had proved she wasn’t just some hard, gruff bitch who would toy with us mercilessly. I wouldn’t have put up with that.

  When I hopped on my bike and revved the engine, about three minutes had passed since Kaitlyn had left abruptly. I had anticipated that she would make a sudden exit at some point, though, and was unaffected by it. I had downed my beer quickly, tossed it in the recycling bin, and then casually driven out of the parking lot. I knew that by keeping my actions calm, my mind would remain calm as well. Military training had not just included shooting and infiltration.

  I got to Brewskis about fifteen minutes later to find Lane on his bike, waiting outside, one hand ready to turn the bike on at a moment’s notice if one of the Fallen Saints decided to retaliate for two weeks ago.

  “You’re late,” Lane said with a smirk.

  “Yeah, yeah, club business, man,” I said. “That nurse that Axle picked is like the toughest girl I’ve ever seen. It took some time to work her over.”

  “So what, you didn’t think to work over anyone else?” Lane said, a growing smirk forming on his face.

 

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