Patriot
Silver Saints
Fiona Davenport
Contents
Patriot
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Epilogue
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 by Fiona Davenport
Cover designed by Elle Christensen
Edited by Editing4Indies
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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Patriot
Patrick “Patriot” O’Bannon never expected to be struck with the urge to claim a woman on the way home from a run. Let alone in a biker bar on territory belonging to a rival club. Laying low wasn’t an option when another man cornered the red-headed beauty who was meant to be his.
Erin Cabot wasn’t interested in becoming the old lady of a Devil’s Jesters. But with her sister pushing her to pick a man before she’s pressured into becoming a club bunny, Erin didn’t have a lot of options. Until Patriot offered her a way out on the back of his bike.
1
Erin
I often had to remind myself that my sister was my only living family. We didn’t have a lot in common and hadn’t been close when I was younger, but Alice had stepped up when our parents died. If she hadn’t taken me into her home, I would’ve been stuck in foster care for the past five years. Sometimes I wondered if foster care wouldn’t have been the better option.
Alice never let me forget what she’d done for me. Never wasted an opportunity to point out the huge sacrifices she’d made to put a roof over my head whenever I got upset because she was being crappy to me. I’d quickly learned to keep my mouth shut if she or her old man did something I didn’t like because the only thing talking back earned me was being locked in my bedroom—or a slap on my cheek if Razor was around.
I’d been so shocked the first time Alice had slapped me, only a week after I’d moved in with her. Our parents had never even spanked us, and I hadn’t been in a fight before, so it was my first experience with being hit in any way. I had happily gone into my room when she grounded me and had cried for an hour before she’d come in to explain that she’d slapped me for my own good. Razor wouldn’t accept back talk from any woman, and she represented him as his old lady. Disrespecting her meant disrespecting him, and my punishment would’ve been much more severe if she’d waited for Razor to handle the situation.
That was my first lesson in how little respect the Devil’s Jesters, the motorcycle club he belonged to, had for women. But it definitely wasn’t my last. The day my parents died, I had stepped into the brutal world my sister had chosen, and I’d been dreaming of when I could get out ever since. Only she’d just ripped all my plans away from me with one sentence.
“I don’t understand. What do you mean, there’s no money for me to go to school?” I wrapped my arms around my torso, trying to comfort myself as my world fell apart around me. “What about the college fund Mom and Dad set up before they died? I’ve never so much as touched a penny of the money they put in there.”
Alice rolled her eyes and circled her hand in the air. “All the stuff we’ve bought for you since you came to live with us wasn’t free, Erin.”
My parents had known we’d be on our own if anything happened to them, and they’d planned for that eventuality. I might’ve only been thirteen when they’d died, but I’d understood enough to know they hadn’t left us penniless. “Didn’t their life insurance policy cover all that?”
“Why are you asking all these questions?” She planted her hands on her hips as she shook her head. “It sounds like you think I tried to screw you over or something. After all I did for you, I can’t believe you’d act like this just because you can’t get what you want. You’re eighteen now. An adult in the eyes of the law. It’s past time for you to quit being a brat.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply that you’d done anything wrong.” I’d sure as heck thought it, but I knew better than to say anything like that out loud. Alice wasn’t going to give me any straight answers, and if I kept questioning her, I was only going to piss her off more. “I just didn’t understand how I didn’t know any of this until now. Like you said, I’m eighteen now. You don’t need to keep tough stuff from me anymore.”
“I’m glad you said that because I’ve been meaning to bring something up to you.” I had a feeling that the insincere smile she aimed my way didn’t mean good things for me, and she proved me right when she said, “Now that you’re not jailbait, your role in the Devil’s Jesters is going to change.”
I swallowed down a lump in my throat, my stomach tying itself into knots. “How so?”
“You’ve lived in our world for five years, Erin. You’ve seen for yourself that there are only so many places for a woman inside the MC.” She walked across the room and grabbed her leather vest off the hook next to the door, turning it around to point at the patch on the back that identified her as belonging to Razor. “If you’re not blood to a brother, then you’re either an old lady or a club bunny.”
I was tempted to pinch myself to see if I was in the middle of a nightmare, but I never would’ve dreamed up something this awful on my own. I knew where this conversation was headed. I was still a virgin, but my sister was getting ready to push me toward sleeping with someone in the MC, whether I was interested in him or not. “But I am family. I’m Razor’s sister-in-law.”
“Being my blood isn’t enough.” She shook her head as she dropped her vest back onto the hook. “I’m not a member.”
My legs were so shaky, I almost didn’t make it over to the couch without falling to the floor. Dropping onto the cushions, I buried my face in my hands and tried to come up with some way to make my sister understand how messed up this whole situation was. When I finally gave up, I lifted my head and cried, “There has to be some other solution. Doesn’t working for one of the club’s businesses offer me some kind of protection?”
“You have to be kidding.” Alice laughed at my question, finding it so funny that she slapped her palm against her thigh. “Any woman who works for the Devil’s Jesters is either banging one member exclusively because that’s the way he wants it, or she’s doing all of them. Old lady or club bunny. Those are your choices, and someone is going to force you to make a decision soon. It’s not like you have anywhere to go. You wouldn’t last five minutes in the real world.”
My stomach churned, and I felt as though I was going to throw up. “What’s the rush all of a sudden? I turned eighteen last week.”
“The only reason the guys who’re interested have held off since your birthday was out of respect for Razor. They were waiting for him to get back from the club run, and he sent me a text about half an hour ago letting me know he’s back in town,” she explained.
I swallowed another lump in my throat, but this time I was pretty sure it was actually my lunch trying to come back up. “He’s at the clubhouse right now?”
She nodded as she sat down in the chair across from me. “Yup, and I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s already talked to him about you.”
“I’m supposed to be at the bar in less than an hour,” I whispered, tugging at the hem of the tiny shorts the club made all the girls wear when they were working.
; My sister waved off my fear. “You’re making way too big of a deal out of this. Just pick one of the guys who’ve been panting after you for the past year or two and convince them that they don’t want to share you with their club brothers. You’re young and pretty. It shouldn’t be too hard to do.”
I couldn’t believe I had come to the point in my life when I regretted not giving my V-card up to one of the boys I’d gone to school with. At least that would’ve been my choice, instead of being forced into bed with a guy by my own sister. “If Mom and Dad were still alive, they’d be so mad at you right now.”
Alice leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest while she glared at me. “But they aren’t, and it’s time for you to grow the fuck up and stop being a whiny baby.”
2
Patriot
I signaled to Dash, the Silver Saints MC tail gunner, then hit the road, flanked by a few of my brothers and another dozen behind us. We’d recently lost our Road Captain, so as the MC’s Captain, I was in charge of the runs. We’d just made a delivery to a buyer in a town about four hours north. The most direct route had been through the territory of the Devil’s Jesters. None of us were happy about being anywhere near the bastards. They were dirty, dealt in shit like drugs, and had no respect for their women.
However, the buyers had kept us longer than we’d expected, so we were all hungry and not looking forward to four hours on a bike with an empty stomach. And since Hell’s Kitchen, a bar owned by the Devil’s Jesters, was the only decent place to eat along the route, we’d decided to stop for a bite.
As we rumbled into the parking lot, a couple of patches who’d been lounging by the front door stood up and eyed us suspiciously. I understood their wariness. The delivery had been on the larger side, and we carried the items in our saddle bags, which was why there were so many of us on this run. Plus anyone who’d wanted to ride along, just to get out on the road.
Most of us were big motherfuckers, and we were clearly wearing patches that proclaimed us as another MC. One thing we had going for us, though, was the Silver Saints had a reputation. We didn’t bring trouble...that people knew about. We stepped in when a situation needed handling, but we did it quietly and left no trace.
When the boys spotted the Silver Saints patch, they dismissed us and relaxed again. We nodded respectfully—if insincerely—as we passed them and entered the bar.
My brothers scattered, going to the bar, booths, tables, or the john. Breaker and Nova—both Silver Saints enforcers, Rider—our secretary—and I took up a booth in the back near the exit. We ordered a round of burgers and beers, shooting the shit, seemingly casual and oblivious to everything around us.
In reality, each of us scanned the bar habitually, checking on our brothers and keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble.
It was during one of those scans that I spotted her.
A pixie-sized girl with long red hair. My first reaction was anger, wondering who the fuck let this girl work in a bar when she was underage. But then she walked fully into view as she headed to the booth next to ours, and I realized she was older than I’d first thought. At least eighteen...I hoped.
She was small but with subtle, womanly curves that made my mouth water. Her creamy skin was sprinkled with freckles, and I found myself mesmerized by her big, green eyes. There was a deep sadness lurking in their depths, and it made my protective instincts roar to life. She needed someone to keep her safe, to make her smile, to replace the lost expression on her face with one of satisfaction.
She wasn’t wearing a cut, which meant no one had claimed her, but she also had a sweet, innocent air about her that made me think she wasn’t a club bunny either. Except the Devil’s Jesters weren’t known for allowing anyone who wasn’t blood to a brother or fucking one—or more—to hang around.
“Figures you’d spot the only Irish chick in the place,” Rider snorted from beside me.
“Shut it, jackass,” I growled. With a name like Patrick O’Bannon, I’d been an easy target for a running joke with my brothers. They assumed that because of my Irish heritage, I was more attracted to Irish women.
As I studied the beauty a few feet away, I had to wonder if they might have been right. I hadn’t been able to confirm or deny their theory because I hadn’t been interested in a woman since before I joined the military. Since I’d been Army ROTC, that basically meant I’d been celibate since high school. At first, I’d been too focused on building my career. Then when I’d been injured, earning me a medal of honor and an honorable discharge, I’d been lost. I was looking for a way to replace my brothers-in-arms, the only family I had since my parents had died when I was nineteen.
It had been a stroke of luck for me when Jared “Mac” MacKenzie—the Silver Saints president—had broken up a fight between me and Olie, the owner of a bar. Olie’s wife had been a friend of mine from way back, and it hadn’t taken me long to figure out he was abusing her. I’d been trying to come up with a way to get her out. When he’d grabbed Brie in a hold so tight I knew it would leave bruises and called her a whore for looking at another man too long, I just lost it. Then Mac was suddenly there, and he, along with a couple of his brothers, pulled us apart.
Mac dragged me out of the bar and demanded I get on my bike and follow him or he’d let the owner press charges. I didn’t have anything better to do, so I rode with him to the Silver Saints compound. Once we were in his office, he ordered me to explain what had happened. It all spilled out of me, and when I was done, he admitted to having seen the incident with Olie and Brie. He’d been about to step in, but I got there first.
He told me that if I worked with them on it, they would get Brie away from Olie and settled into a new life as someone else, where he’d never find her. We’d gotten to know each other in the process, and once it was done, he’d asked me if I ever considered joining an MC.
I became a prospect—given the name Patriot due to my background—and suddenly realized I had a family again. I put all of my focus into becoming a patch as quickly as possible and rising through the ranks to become Captain. Women just hadn’t been on my radar, and no one had turned my head enough to derail my focus.
Now, as my body stirred, clearly interested in this Irish lass, I briefly wondered if I had a thing for Irish chicks. But the thought left as quickly as it had appeared. It wasn’t red-haired, green-eyed women with adorable freckles that did it for me. It was this one. Just her.
“Hey! Erin!” called a scraggly guy in a Devil’s Jesters cut with no shirt to cover his hairy chest and slight beer belly. He ran a hand through his greasy hair, and when he leered at her, his long nose stood out against the sharp angles of his face, making him look like a hawk. He stumbled up to my girl—Erin—and grabbed her around the waist, jerking her up against his naked chest. She shuddered and tried to push away.
“I’m working, Vinny. Let me go,” she said, a hint of panic edging her sweet voice.
“C’mon, doll face. I promise to treat you real good. Can’t say the same about any of the other fuckers panting after your virgin pussy.”
I shot from my seat, having heard more than enough. “Back off,” I growled as I used the flat of my hand to push him away, then moved Erin behind me.
“The fuck, man?” Vinny whined. “You got no right. She’s my old lady.”
Erin snorted from behind me, and I almost smiled but continued to glare at Vinny. “Don’t see a property patch. Until I do, stay the fuck away from her.”
Vinny glared at me, but there was no strength behind it. Probably because he was high as a fucking kite. He spit on the floor at my feet and grumbled, “Her pussy ain't worth fighting for anyway.”
I tensed, but a small hand on my arm kept me from going after him. Turning, I stared down at the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life.
“Thank you,” she said softly. There was sincere gratitude in her eyes, but there was also a deep distrust that made me frown. It bothered me that she was wary of me. I wanted her
to lean on me, to feel protected and safe with me.
I swallowed hard to keep from saying those things and simply nodded. It took a ton of control to let her walk away, but my eyes stayed glued to her as I made my way back to my seat.
The boys were quiet when I sat back down. They remained that way through our meal, not that I noticed much since I spent the entire time watching over my woman.
Suddenly, Nova spoke up. “If you’re thinking what I think you are...especially publicly, you’ll be starting a war.”
I dragged my gaze away from Erin to stare daggers at my brother. “You wouldn't have done it for Rylee?” I asked, referring to his old lady.
Nova’s expression turned murderous. “You know I’d kill for her,” he growled.
“You sayin’ you won’t have my back?”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Patriot,” Rider broke in. “You fuckin’ know we got your back.” He was right, but I was too fired up to admit it.
“My point was just that you better be sure she’s worth it,” Nova said.
My gaze strayed to Erin once again. “She is.”
“How does this shit keep happening?” Breaker grumbled. “Motorcycle club, not matchmaker club.”
A woman who looked somewhat similar to Erin, but a little older and a whole lot harder, came stomping over to the bar where Erin was picking up a food order. She started speaking animatedly, her expression making it clear she was given my girl a tongue lashing. A tall, muscular biker with scars and tattoos all over his body walked up behind the angry woman. When he directed a dark, furious scowl at Erin, I’d had enough.
Patriot: Silver Saints Page 1