Patriot Read online

  “Alright, let me make sure it doesn’t hurt,” I said.

  I pretended to try and fumble for something in my pocket, but I was just using the opportunity to turn my phone off. I’d done what I could. At this point, it was in his hands.

  I worked on the Saint for about a dozen more minutes, although time was really just an abstract concept that moved glacially slow. I didn’t dare check my phone.

  As I worked, my ears began to tune in to the living room. I could still hear Devon moaning on the ground, but I could also eavesdrop on Jason and Lucius speaking.

  “I need to make some calls and make sure everything is running as is,” Lucius said. “I do not want our bikes getting slashed under our fucking noses again.”

  “Did you get the fucker?” Jason said. “I told you it’s a shitty idea to bring one of them on. They’ll double-cross us—”

  “And if they do, we kill them and scare the Reapers into moving to Mexico,” Lucius said. “You’re talking about a group that is run by a teenager who ran off his own brother. You think I’m really scared about our mole betraying us for them? That would be like betraying the United States to go join Venezuela.”

  Lucius laughed at his own joke. I could practically hear Jason steaming in the room over. I admittedly took a bit of perverse pleasure in knowing he was getting aggravated, but when I remembered who he was likely to take his anger out on, my schadenfreude disappeared quite quickly.

  “I just think you bring any of those rats into the fold, we suffer,” Jason snapped back. “We don’t need their intelligence. Lane will break that club himself.”

  “I would believe that if not for his brother’s intervention,” Lucius said. “And recent intel suggests that the Gray Reapers are beginning to stir with a little more activity.”

  “Them?” Jason said with a laugh. “You mean the three who went over there?”

  “You underestimate Cole’s capability for making change and Lane’s recent growth,” Lucius said. “That is why you will never be above VP, Jason, because you let your emotions and arrogance get the best of you.”

  I heard what sounded like a loud roar, followed by guns being cocked.

  “If you want to lead a group like this, you cannot let emotions get in the way of your decision-making. You need to be calculated, rational, and without emotion. You may yet make a great sergeant-in-arms, but to be a decision-maker requires more than what you have done.”

  I didn’t hear anything else. The man in front of me grunted, perhaps realizing that I was not taking care of him as fast as before.

  “In any case, I must go make sure Lilly is still at the house,” Lucius said. “Make sure you keep the girl alive. She is valuable bait for the rest of them.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Jason said. “I’ll take good care of her.”

  “Yes, see to it that you do,” Lucius said. “You can do whatever you want, but she had better live. Your life and hers will be intertwined as far as my bullets are concerned.”

  The girl?

  So, is he only keeping one of us alive? Or did he just mean girls in general?

  No, he meant one of us. Then who...?

  I tried my best not to contemplate the question, but when death was apparently a mere order away from happening, it was much harder to ignore.

  “You got it, boss,” Jason said.

  Seconds later, Lucius walked out of the house. I took a deep breath, telling myself to just keep Jason off me as long as possible. I couldn’t hold out forever, but perhaps at some point, Michael would figure out we were at Devon’s and come.

  Yeah, it was a bit of naïve hope. But naïve hope was really all I had left right now.

  Seconds later, I heard Jason enter the room. His thick, calloused hands landed on my shoulders. I wrenched myself away, even though it yanked on one of the last stitches on the Fallen Saint.

  “What the fuck!”

  “Out,” Jason said coldly.

  “I’m getting fucking treatment in here!”

  Jason reached toward his hip, grabbed his gun, and pointed it at the Fallen Saint sitting before me.

  “If you want to make sure your next bullet wound is to your fucking skull, then keep talking,” he said. “Otherwise, get the fuck out of here.”

  The Fallen Saints were dangerous, but they weren’t suicidal. The patient scoffed, got off the table, and walked out. I dashed for him, but Jason grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward, knocking me over the table I’d just been treating the patient on. It felt like someone had swung a baseball bat at full force into my lower back, and I keeled over as Jason went over to close the door.

  “This seems like an appropriate position for a Meade to be in, down on her knees,” he said. “It’s a familiar one to me, you know.”

  “Go to hell,” I spat, but I was far too weak to do anything about it. I tried to stand up, but just the act of getting my feet from underneath me was a serious struggle. Jason, sensing this, laughed and shook his head condescendingly.

  “You know, I know Kristina was your sister, and so you think she’s some divine angel who can do no wrong, but I’m here to assure you that could not be further from the truth,” Jason said, a wicked smile on his face. “I will admit I have my faults. No one’s perfect. But your sister would egg me on, you know. She wanted me to hit her. She wanted me to control her.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Jason chortled, put his hands on his hips, and shook his head, looking at me like a disapproving parent.

  “Denying the truth doesn’t change the fact that it’s the truth, you know,” he said. “Your sister was a real freak. She liked it rough. So rough, in fact, that those bruises you saw? They weren’t me trying to hurt her. At least, not maliciously.”

  It was just one big lie. Even if it was true that my sister liked that kind of thing, the expression on her face, the emotional scars that she wore on her sleeve, and the decline in cheerfulness she carried with her told of a different story. It was of no coincidence in my mind that once she dumped him, she became a lot happier.

  “Do you know what happened when she died?” Jason said, and his smile seemed to grow wider at the mention of this story. I already hated this monster, but he was now proving himself to be something worse—irredeemable. “Do you want to know? Perhaps you need to know, even if you won’t admit it.”

  “I know enough,” I said. “I know you killed her. I know we’ve been trying to bring her justice since.”

  “Hmm, perhaps true enough,” Jason said. “But you see, here’s the funny thing. Who do you think tried to bring that relationship back together, Kaitlyn? Who do you think made the initial reach out?”

  He wouldn’t be saying this if it was him. I hated that I knew I was right. I hated knowing that he was toying with me with the truth.

  “I don’t care,” I said. “Even if she was the one that reached out to you, you were the one that ultimately killed her.”

  “Through complete accident, you know,” Jason said. “But she was the one that put herself in the spot to get hurt. She was the one that pushed boundaries too far. She was the one that ultimately brought about her own death.”

  “No!” I screamed. “Shut the fuck up!”

  Jason just laughed.

  “Look at you, you’re reduced to screaming at me in the hopes that I am wrong,” he said. “But you know that I am right. You know your sister was just as unstable and unwilling to stay away from trouble as I am. And now, you’re in the same spot. You’re just continuing the Meade legacy. You’re a whore for bikers.”

  Whether by his words or just because enough time had passed, I regained the strength to charge at Jason. I ran at him with scissors in my hand, intent on hurting him. I swung.

  I made some contact, but not nearly enough. Jason grabbed my wrist with such frightening strength that I really thought he was going to crush my bones into dust. The scissors fell out of my hand, revealing only a flesh wound on the top of his hand.
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  “Didn’t you learn in medical school to not handle scissors so carelessly?” he said, shaking his head.

  “I’m a nurse, not a doctor, you fucking idiot,” I said, but I was in such pain that I couldn’t get another line out.

  Instead, I kicked him in the groin.

  Or I tried to. I got the top of his thigh, for he had just quick enough reflexes. He then shoved me to the ground and towered over me.

  “You know, I came in here to have some fun with you,” he said. “But I can see that unlike your sister, you don’t appreciate a handsome man when you see him. Instead, you go for the pussies in the Reapers. You attach yourself to weak men who don’t know how to run this world. And because of that, look at where it has gotten you. On the ground, cowering before a real man.”

  He smirked and dropped to a knee.

  “I’ll make this real easy on you, Kaitlyn Meade,” he said. “You can make me feel good and get me off. Do that, and you’ll still be held here, but you’ll be forgiven, and no more harm will come to you. Choose not to, and I will make sure you live—but you will wish you didn’t. Which will—”

  I didn’t even give him the chance to finish. I didn’t care what more he had to say.

  I spat in his face.

  The reaction was instant. Jason slapped me hard across my cheek, leaving my head buzzing. In what sounded like a distant voice, I could hear Jason saying, “stupid fucking whore,” but I didn’t know of anything else that was going on.

  “You’ll pay for this.”

  After a brutal kick to the ribs, I curled up, just wishing for the pain to end, for the madness to stop.

  Nothing more came. I slowly regained my presence, albeit while in a significant amount of pain. For now, I was alive.

  But unless Michael came, I didn’t know how long “for now” would last.

  Patriot

  I rolled up to the club and immediately ran up to Lane.

  “Get all the officers and about a half-dozen more men on the bikes,” I said.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’ll answer that in a second.”

  I let the President and Axle, the club’s Vice President, start rounding up the men. With a moment to myself, I texted a few contacts who had access to public records and did a little bit of sleuthing myself. It wouldn’t take me long to find Devon’s address—I just had to hope that it still wouldn’t be too late. Or that we’re going to the wrong place.

  Within a minute, I had an address. It was a little bit east, closer to the Fallen Saints’ side of town than our own, but if that’s where something was happening, it would, unfortunately, make sense. They wouldn’t have gone to Kaitlyn’s place, which was on our side of town. They would have gotten cut off on the retreat.

  Guess we had to make sure we moved quickly enough so that we avoided the same problem.

  Within two minutes, I had all of the club officers, Pink Raven, and three other club members with me. Good enough. We had ten people with guns who knew how to use them. If that wasn’t enough, then nothing would be.

  “What’s going on, my son?” Father Marcellus said.

  I didn’t have time to explain.

  “Just follow me and be prepared to use deadly force if necessary,” I warned. “We’re going to go rescue someone who needs help.”

  I hopped on my bike, waiting for everyone else to do so. Lane took the rear, along with Axle. I nodded, revved my engine, and roared out of the club headquarters. We moved like a flock of birds, in perfect formation, moving in sync to a destination that only I knew of, but which the rest of the group could easily trail.

  Kaitlyn, whatever is going on there, just hold on tight. We’ll be there soon, and when we get there, I’ll do whatever it takes to rescue you. I promise.

  And I’m sorry.

  I’m sorry for letting you get to this spot. I will make sure we get you out of it.

  I looked over my shoulder when we were about halfway there. Even though I was part of this club, sometimes, I just liked the sight of seeing nearly a dozen motorcyclists charging ahead, hellbent on rescuing someone. I guess, like many other aspects of the club, you could say it reminded me of the good days.

  And now is my chance to atone for that bad day. Because no one is going to die under my watch. Even if our rat got the information out, I am going to work to make sure nothing happens.

  We took one more right turn and pulled into the neighborhood with Devon’s house. The good news—if you could even call it that—was that Kaitlyn’s blue Toyota was parked right out front. She was here.

  The bad news was that there were no signs of motorcycles nearby. The streets, driveway—it was all clear.

  I turned off my bike and took my helmet off, unholstering my gun in the process. Axle came up behind me with Butch.

  “We’ll clear,” he said. “Stand by.”

  The two of them drew their guns, moved up the steps...

  I’ve seen this before.

  I sit back.

  They charge in.

  They die.

  “Wait!”

  They paused just before the two of them climbed the stairs. I looked in the windows to try and see if I could spot anything. I thought I saw a glimmer of a movement, but I couldn’t be sure. I waved them back.

  “What?” Axle said when he returned.

  “I just... call it a feeling, but if they’re in there, and they heard us coming, they’re going to wait to ambush us as soon as we walk in that door,” I said. “We should circle around the back. Find a back entrance. Ambush the ambushers.”

  Axle pursed his lips. Butch expressed no emotion, no thoughts either way.

  “Okay,” Axle said. “Lane!”

  “We’ll split into two groups,” Lane said. “Patriot, I’m going with you. Axle, lead the rest.”

  Axle split the group into two, taking Red Raven, Pink Raven, and two other bikers with him. We took Father Marcellus—just as we had on the raid that told us Cole was still alive—Butch, and the last club member, Tomahawk. I waved everyone forward, and we moved around the left side of the house.

  Sure enough, as soon as we turned the corner, I saw what the Fallen Saints had done. They had lined their bikes up against the back of the house, making it invisible to anyone driving by on the street. Anyone who moved up and down this part of Springsville without looking closely would have just assumed this was a semi-quiet neighborhood, maybe not the nicest place in the city, but a decent one all the same.

  And even though nothing had happened in the battle to rescue Kaitlyn yet, I already felt a small measure of redemption.

  You haven’t done shit, though. Don’t let this go to your head. That’s the fastest way to ensure that everyone you care about dies.

  I shook the pride from my mind and came to the back door. I tried peering through a window, but I could only see...

  I could only see Devon writhing on the ground. She was unguarded. But I did not see Kaitlyn.

  I looked at Lane. He nodded, ready to go. He looked a little nervous, but nothing like before.

  I looked at Father Marcellus. Was I staring at the club rat? Now wasn’t the time to ask. We had eyes on him.

  I looked to Butch, and then at Tomahawk. I knew both were ready. I held up three fingers and began counting down.

  And then, as if in perfect sync with the rest of the Black Reapers, even the ones on the other side of the house, as we stormed in from the back, they stormed in from the side.

  “Fucking Reapers!”

  The attack was swift and quick. There were only about two in the main lobby, one of whom looked like he was wounded. I hurried over to Devon, who was holding her shoulder, a knife wound still trickling blood.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  “I’ll live,” she said. “Kaitlyn... she’s—”

  I looked over my shoulder, following the gaze of her eyes. There was a closed door. I stood up, went right to the door, and kicked the damn thing down. I swung my gun around just in
time to see a man jumping out of a window.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” I yelled.

  I sprinted around back to see a Fallen Saint carrying Kaitlyn away. She looked like she was conscious but wounded and dazed. The very sight was sickening, and I was not going to let the Fallen Saint escape alive.

  He was too far away for that accurate a shot, but his bikes weren’t.

  Lining up my gun carefully, making sure not to aim at the mass of bodies and hit the woman I loved—yes, I could say that—I fired. Not every bullet hit perfectly, but I caused enough damage and enough chaos that the Fallen Saint had to weave to the side. He stumbled under Kaitlyn’s weight, and the two of them fell to the ground.

  My gun ran out of bullets, so I discarded the weapon and sprinted over, in an absolute mad rage, craving the blood of this very Saint on my hands. I kicked him hard in the ribs and then tried to stomp him, but he slid out of the way just in time. He cut out my legs from underneath me, and before I could react, he had mounted me.

  I’d trained for this many times in boot camp and bucked him off, but the Fallen Saint across from me knew what he was doing. As he fell forward, he placed his hand hard against my face, nearly gouging an eye out. I bucked again, but this time, he had stabilized himself, and he placed his hand on my throat.

  “So you must be the pussy that this girl went for,” he said. “It’s going to give me so much joy to kill you like the bitch you are.”

  I fought like hell to shake his grip, but the man was just too big and too strong. There was no escaping his grip. I kicked, I thrusted my hips up, I tried to hit him with my hands—nothing worked. The resistance, in fact, seemed to make the man laugh.

  “Pathetic,” he said. “I always knew that Black Reapers were a bunch of pussies. But now you’re going to die like the bitch you are.”

  He pushed his hand harder against my throat, and my vision started to blur, and my hearing started to fade.

  “I am going to enjoy fucking your woman before I kill her,” he whispered into my ear. “Just as I fucked and killed her sister. Can you imagine?”

  He burst into laughter. I’m sorry... Kaitlyn...