Patriot: Silver Saints

by Davenport, Fiona

  When Mac released his woman, he brushed some of her hair out of her face, then turned her to face us. “Erin, this is my wife, Bridget.”

  “Wife…?” Cherry echoed, still frozen in a stunned state.

  “His old lady,” Bridget said with a chuckle.

  “You...you married your old lady?”

  Bridget tilted her head to the side as she observed Cherry. “The Silver Saints tend to be a little more Neanderthal about their women.” Bridget laughed when Mac growled and made a grab for her, though she danced out of his reach. “They want the patch to warn other MCs and the ring to warn off everyone else.”

  Erin looked back and forth between them thoughtfully. While Bridget turned to converse with her old man. “I take it you’d like me to get her settled?”

  “Please,” Mac responded, making Erin’s jaw drop again.

  Bridget walked over to Erin and drew her up, then linked their arms. “Let’s go—”

  “Cinnamon,” Scout piped up after being quiet for so long I’d almost forgotten he was there.

  Bridget did a sweep of Erin before laughing brightly. “A little on the nose for you, Scout, isn’t it?”

  “No pun intended?” he quipped.

  “What do you think?” she replied sassily.

  The banter seemed to put Cherry a little more at ease. I didn’t like the idea of her being out of my sight, but I knew she was in good hands with Bridget, and I needed to report on the run.

  Erin looked back at me as she was led to the door.

  “Go with Bridget, baby. I’ll check on you soon.”

  Bridget directed her next words at me. “I’ll put her in the west—”

  “You know where to put her, baby,” Mac interrupted casually.

  Bridget looked at Mac, then glanced back at me and frowned. Her gaze finally returned to her old man’s, and she put her free hand on her hip. “We talked about that, Jared.”

  “No, baby, you talked about it. I didn’t agree.”

  I knew exactly what conversation Mac was referring to. Apparently, Bridget didn’t think we should take our women straight to our rooms. We should let them come to us.

  But that wasn’t how it worked. Setting aside the fact that I wouldn’t let Cherry sleep without me under any circumstances, putting her in my room was the best protection she had without wearing a property patch.

  I narrowed my eyes at Mac, and he shook his head, telling me to stay out of it.

  “Exactly,” Bridget said. “So I’ll put her—”

  “You know where to put her, Bridget.” His tone was firm this time. The inflection meant he wouldn’t budge, not even for his wife.

  “Fine!” Bridget threw her arms up in exasperation. “A bunch of cavemen!”

  Mac grinned. “We both know you love my caveman.”

  Bridget blushed hard as she led Cherry out of the office.

  5

  Erin

  I wasn’t sure what to think as I followed Bridget through the Silver Saints clubhouse. Patriot and his club kept blowing my assumptions out of the water. I’d already been scared when Patriot’s president had called us into his office, and my fear skyrocketed when he’d said that Razor had already called him. I’d thought he was going to light into Patriot before telling me that I had to go back to the Devil’s Jesters. I hadn’t known how to react when he’d offered me shelter, let alone to help me disappear if it came down to that.

  Then I found out he married his old lady—which was unheard of in Razor’s club. I’d once made the mistake of asking my sister why she wasn’t married when they’d been together so long. Alice had insisted it wasn’t something she wanted, but I could tell she was trying to convince herself as much as me that she was okay with wearing Razor’s property patch but not his ring.

  I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I didn’t realize Bridget had asked me a question until she gently tugged on my arm and repeated it. “Do you want a drink or anything before we head upstairs?”

  “Um, yeah. That would be great. Thanks.” She ducked behind the bar lining a wall, and I glanced around the lounge area. It wasn't what I’d expected either. The only stuff it had in common with the Devil’s Jesters clubhouse was the bar and a bunch of couches and tables spread throughout the space. But this place was clean, and there wasn’t a single club bunny hanging around.

  Two women were sitting with a couple of club members at one of the tables, but they wore property patches that identified them as old ladies. I recognized both men. One of them had been at the gate when we’d pulled in, but his scary expression from earlier completely disappeared as he smiled at the brunette on his lap. The other had been sitting at the same table at Hell’s Kitchen with Patriot. He made a gagging noise when the couple across from him kissed, and the blonde next to him giggled. “Quit giving Dax and Arya a hard time, babe. You like PDA just as much as they do.”

  He wrapped his hand around the back of her head to pull his old lady close and prove her right by laying a wet, deep kiss on her. When he finally pulled back, he complained, “Yeah, but she’s my sister. I don’t need to see that shit when they’ve got a perfectly good room upstairs.”

  “So? Rylee is my best friend, but I don’t complain when you get all touchy-feely with her around me, Nova,” Arya huffed, turning to glare at her brother.

  “Sorry, baby, but he has a point.” Dax rubbed his beard against the back of Arya’s neck. “It’s not the same thing.”

  “You’ll notice that he didn’t say anything about sparing me from having to watch you two kiss in the future,” Nova muttered.

  I was fascinated by their back and forth, but I tore my gaze away from the couples when Bridget asked, “Coke, Sprite, Diet Coke, root beer, water, juice, milk, or something stronger?”

  Once again, I was surprised. The list of options didn’t sound as though it belonged in an MC clubhouse. “You have milk?”

  “Yeah, just in case the kids want some when they take a break from running around being savages. Right now, they’re all being quiet because I turned on a movie, but you’ll see what I mean soon enough. Probably when we break up the party to take them home.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I should warn you, we only have whole milk. So it’s pretty thick if you’re used to drinking skim.”

  “Root beer would be great,” I whispered, stunned to learn they were okay with members bringing children to the clubhouse. Heck, it sounded as though they actually encouraged it if they were keeping drinks in stock for them and hosting movie parties. The president of the Devil’s Jesters never even brought his kids to the compound, and he had four sons.

  Instead of pouring me a fountain drink from the nozzle, she reached into the fridge under the bar, grabbed a glass bottle, and popped the top off. After she came out from behind the bar, she handed it to me. “Rider is a root beer snob, so we always have bottles of the good stuff in the fridge.”

  “Oh, you should save this one for him then.” I tried to shove the drink back at her, but she wouldn’t take it. The last thing I wanted was to irritate a member of the MC who was offering me protection. “I’m fine with anything, really. I wouldn’t want him to run out of his favorite drink.”

  “Don’t worry.” She waved off my concern and smiled. “He’s used to people dipping into his stash. Now he buys like ten cases at a time.”

  My hold on the bottle tightened as the guy who’d helped me onto the back of Patriot's motorcycle back at Hell’s Kitchen stomped into the room and dropped down onto one of the couches. Kicking his legs out and crossing his arms over his chest, he grumbled, “Maybe our captain will be less of a stickler for the rules now that he’s found himself a woman.”

  My mouth went bone-dry at the thought of Patriot with someone else. My reaction forced me to admit that I was more attracted to him than I’d realized since I was feeling territorial. I looked at my feet as I took a gulp of the root beer Bridget had given me, trying not to let on how devastated I was feeling. But my gaze slid toward her when she bump
ed my shoulder and whispered, “He’s talking about you, not someone else.”

  “Oh.” I hid my satisfied smile by taking a long pull from the bottle.

  Nova chuckled and shook his head. “You know Patriot better than that, Breaker. His time in the military taught him that rules save lives. It’s what makes him such a great captain.”

  “I get what you’re saying, but I still think it’s more than possible. The man has lived like a monk for a damn long time.” Breaker shifted positions on the couch. “Why the man put hardware in his dick when he never uses it is a mystery to me.”

  I almost spit out the root beer I was swallowing as the blonde gasped, “Patriot has a piercing?”

  “At least you don’t have to worry about our captain kicking your ass for talking about dick piercings in front of his woman.” Nova sighed as he laced his fingers together to crack his knuckles. “I’m going to do it instead since you’re the reason my Rylee is asking about his dick.”

  “Nah, Patriot will just wait till he’s healed and then do it again,” Dax disagreed as he grinned at Nova over Arya’s shoulder. “And the most hilarious part of this all is that Breaker started it by talking shit about Patriot living like a monk when his sex life isn’t any better.”

  “And I think that’s past our cue to leave.” Bridget nudged me across the room and toward a set of stairs. She flashed me an apologetic smile when we got to the top, pointing to the left. “This way.”

  I followed her down the hall to the last room on the right. After she opened the door, I took a couple of steps inside and froze when I noticed a few items scattered around the space. The bed was perfectly made, but their presence made it clear that someone was using the room. A pair of running shoes were on the floor next to the couch, a sketchpad and pencils were on the desk, and a hardcover book was on the bedside table. Suddenly, the back and forth between Bridget and the Silver Saints president made sense to me. “Is this Patriot’s room?”

  “Yup.” She let the P pop on the end, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned against the doorjamb. “I’d trust every single one of Jared’s men with my life, but that doesn’t mean their Neanderthal tendencies don’t drive me up the wall.”

  This was the second time she’d used the Silver Saints president's first name in front of me. Now that we were alone, I gave in to my impulse to ask her about it. “Your old man doesn’t mind that you don’t call him by his road name all the time?”

  She shook her head and smiled. “Not at all. In fact, he demands I call him Jared because he’s more than just Mac to me. He’s my husband and the father of my daughter.”

  “Huh, that’s so different from my experience with the Devil’s Jesters.” When Bridget tilted her head to the side, her brow drawing together, I hurried to explain, “My sister has been with her old man for almost ten years, but I’ve never heard her call him anything but Razor.”

  “Wow.” She let out a low whistle. “I don’t know your sister or the MC her old man belongs to, but I was raised in the life. The Hounds of Hellfire, my dad’s club, had some guys who weren’t as good to their women as Jared and his men are, but I haven’t met a single old lady who’d put up with something like that for the long haul.”

  “Put up with what?” Patriot asked as he squeezed through the doorway past Bridget.

  “Never mind that. You have bigger fish to fry.” She grinned up at him. “I’ll let you explain to Erin why I took her to your room instead of one designated for guests. Good luck with that.”

  6

  Patriot

  I glared at Bridget as she sidled past me with a “cat got the canary” grin. Just before she walked away, I put a hand on her arm.

  “We left in a rush. Think some of the girls would part with some clothes until I can take Erin shopping?”

  Bridget screwed up her nose in annoyance and huffed, “Of course they would.” Then she wagged a finger in my face. “But if you think we’re going to let you take Erin shopping, you’re delusional.”

  I held up my hands in surrender. “Duly noted.”

  She grinned and patted my shoulder before looking back at my girl. “We can go first thing in the morning.”

  When my eyes strayed back to the redheaded beauty standing awkwardly in the middle of my room, everything else faded away.

  She and Bridget spoke for a minute, then we were alone.

  Erin glanced around, then her eyes landed on me. “I’m staying in your room?” she asked softly.

  I ran my hands over my short hair and blew out an agitated breath. “I trust my brothers with my life, I’d even trust them with your safety, but without a property patch, you’re considered fair game. And baby, if one of them were to put a single finger on you, I’d lose my fucking mind.”

  Erin double-blinked. “Um…”

  “Staying in my room is an added layer of protection and peace of mind for me.” I prowled up to her and took her chin between my thumb and index finger. “I won’t ever force you to do anything you don’t want to do, is that clear?”

  Her mouth formed a little O, and I had to force away the image of those plush lips wrapped around my dick. I released her and backed up a step, trying to regain control. “You hungry?”

  Erin licked her lips, and I swallowed a groan.

  “I could eat,” she replied with a small smile.

  I nodded and held out my hand. When she took it, I led her from the room and down to the kitchens.

  Scout’s old lady, Cat, and a few other women were putting dinner together for those who lived in the clubhouse and any other patches who wanted to eat.

  She glanced in our direction when we entered, and a sly smile slid across her face, her green eyes twinkling with mischief. “You must be Erin.” She didn’t wait for a response. “I’m Cat. I hear we’re going shopping tomorrow.”

  My girl nodded as she scanned the room, her expression puzzled.

  “We’ll make sure to get you some excellent clothes for dates. There are a lot of single guys here and—”

  “She’s off-limits,” I growled.

  Cat shrugged with a laugh. “Good to know. Guess we'll spread the word.” Then she winked at me, and I inclined my head in thanks.

  I didn’t like Erin walking around without my name stamped on her. I’d considered handing Erin my cut and telling her to put it on, but her past had held me back. From what she’d told me, being the old lady of a Devil’s Jester was not a good life unless you were as hard and ruthless as the patches. I had a feeling Erin would be wary of letting an MC patch brand her, even if it was temporary and not an official property patch.

  “You’re in charge of cooking?” Erin asked.

  Cat shrugged again as she pulled a tray of biscuits from the oven. “I love to cook, so I tend to take over more often. But if I’m not up for it or unavailable, someone else is always willing to feed everyone. Even a few of the guys like to take a turn.” She walked over, leaned in conspiratorially, and stage whispered, “I don’t really have a modest bone in my body, so I’ll admit, I hate it that Dash’s pot roast is better than mine.”

  “The men cook?” Erin appeared completely floored by this information.

  “Sure, they have to earn their keep, too”—Cat winked at Erin—“which means keeping the old ladies happy.”

  “I’d like to show her around, but she’s hungry,” I told Cat.

  She swept an arm toward the table spanning the back of the kitchen that could easily seat forty people. “No problem.”

  I led Erin over and helped her into a chair before sitting next to her. Barely a minute later, Cat placed a steaming bowl of clam chowder and a plate with biscuits in front of each of us.

  “Holy cow. They never cook anything like this at the Devil’s Jester clubhouse,” Erin breathed after her first bite.

  “It’s certainly a step up from military chow.”

  “I heard someone say you’d been in the military,” Erin said hesitantly. “If you don’t mind me asking somethi
ng so personal.”

  “You can ask me anything you want, baby. To you, I’m an open book.”

  Erin’s cheeks tinged with pink as she smiled.

  “To answer your question. Yes, I was an Army Ranger. Hooah.”

  “Is that how you got your nickname?”

  “Mostly.” I went on to tell her a little about my time in the service, and slowly, she began to relax.

  After she was done eating her dinner, I gave her a tour of the clubhouse. Our last stop was the tattoo shop, Silver Ink, owned by the club and where I worked.

  “You’re an artist?” Erin asked as she eagerly looked around at the artwork on the walls. “Wow! Are these all yours?”

  I laughed, delighted at her enthusiasm. “No, baby. I’m one of five artists, but about a third of these designs are mine.”

  “That’s so cool. I’ve always wanted a tattoo.”

  My cock swelled when I realized that not only was her pussy a virgin, so was her skin. Which meant I would be the first and only man to own both.

  “Once we get everything settled, we’ll work on something special for you, and I’ll do it.”

  “Really?” Her face lit up, and she practically bounced on the balls of her feet, making me grin.

  Damn, I couldn’t remember the last time I smiled this much. Erin was so genuine and interested, it was refreshing. I’d known I wanted her the second I laid eyes on her, but as I spent time with her, I became more intrigued by her personality. She was everything I’d been searching for, and I hadn’t even realized it.

  Eventually, her eyes grew heavy, and I guided her back to my room. I pulled out a gray T-shirt that said “Army” on the front and tossed it to her. “You can sleep in that tonight.”

  “Um, Patriot?”

  “Call me Patrick, baby,” I said as I found her a clean towel.