Patriot (Silver Saints MC)

“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.