Patriot Read online

  “You with her?” he asked.

  “Just working to get her to work for us.”

  Axle grunted and squatted down for a look at the tires.

  “Jesus,” he said. “Saints?”

  “I’m almost sure of it. I was in the bar with her, saw two of them. They walked out, and though I didn’t see them do anything, I know the fuckers did it.”

  Axle just shook his head.

  “Brewskis is never supposed to have this,” he said. “This is bad. Let’s get you back to the shop. I’ll call everyone.”

  “Let me call Lane,” I said. “You get the bike on the flatbed.”

  Axle agreed, going to work on rolling up the bike and stabilizing it. In some respects, it was kind of a miracle that a flat tire was the only bit of damage that occurred—they could have just as easily destroyed the engine, the fuel tank, and much more. Perhaps this was their way of keeping the damage limited but noticeable, a sort of warning, but I was still fucking pissed.

  I dialed all the officers, having no trouble reaching Red Raven, Father Marcellus, and Butch. I requested an emergency meeting, saying something had happened. I wanted to see how they’d respond.

  Regrettably, they all responded in line with their character. There was going to be no catching anyone off guard. If there even is...

  Lane was the only one I had not yet reached. But he’d come.

  I hopped into the passenger’s seat of the tow truck. Axle drove me back to the shop in silence, the two of us fuming at the audacity of the Saints’ move. Now that Kaitlyn was gone, now that I knew she was safe, I didn’t have to worry about controlling my emotions. I didn’t have to put up a stoic front. I could show how fucking angry I was.

  But that also meant that the memories of what had happened in Iraq, what had happened in the lead up to the most tragic day of my life... those all also came to the forefront. And it was not lost on me how similar what had happened then was happening now—a poke in the side from the enemy as if testing us. If all unfolded as scripted, then our leader would demand retaliation. We’d warn against it. We’d go in. And then...

  “We’re here,” Axle said loudly.

  I didn’t know if he picked up on the struggle that I was going through right there. Still, as a fellow veteran, he had to know when someone else was going down the rabbit hole of emotional struggle and issues. I hopped out of the truck as Axle called out to some prospects to bring the bike into the shop for repairs. Lane, apparently having already gotten the news from someone else, was waiting for me at the entrance.

  “Church?” I asked.

  “Right now,” he said.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen Lane so... so angry, and yet so restrained.

  It was difficult to describe his exact state. Sitting at the head of the table in our church, it was very evident that the rage he was feeling was genuine and palpable. One only needed to look at his bowed head to recognize the fury encased in him.

  But unlike before, when he had launched that near-fatal strike against the Saints, he now seemed like he was trying to prevent a slip of the tongue or an emotional reaction that would inevitably result in action and violence.

  “Brewskis... that cannot be allowed,” Lane said, trying to keep his voice in control. “It’s one thing if they attack us. We’re known enemies. I get that. But this... this is unacceptable.”

  No one else at the table was speaking right now.

  “We need to figure out a plan for retaliation,” Lane said, but then he caught himself as if he felt that he had said too much—for it was no given that everyone in the room had our best interests at heart. “We need... when cooler heads prevail, we need to plan something. A slash of a motorcycle tire is just the first step toward something much worse.”

  “Agreed,” Axle said.

  Heads around the room nodded.

  “Patriot, you sure you didn’t see anything?” Lane asked.

  “No,” I said. “I could tell you who the two guys were that were in the bar, but other than that, I couldn’t tell you who slashed my tires or how or when. I can only tell you that they left, I walked outside, and my tires were destroyed.”

  “So, could just be a coincidence?” Axle asked.

  That immediately raised the red flag in my mind. Why would he ask that? And for that matter, why had he been so ready with a tow truck? Maybe that was a “coincidence” as well.

  “What do you mean, Axle?” Lane said, the curiosity in his voice quite obvious.

  “I want these guys dead as much as you do,” he said. “But we cannot start a needless battle. It will burn the city of Springsville down if we try something so audacious in response to something that turned out to be nothing. And to be frank, I don’t think it was nothing, but we have to gauge our reaction carefully.”

  He was right in the sense that it was possible.

  But he had been the second member of the Reapers to see the tire slash. He knew that it wasn’t because of a rock. He knew only a knife could have done such a thing.

  I couldn’t help but have the highest amount of suspicion raised right now. Axle may have thought he was looking cautious, but to me, it just looked like he had made a critical mistake. Even his hedging at the end had not dissuaded me of my concern.

  “I agree with you on one point,” Lane said, trying very hard to sound even-keeled. “We should not make any rash decisions. For now, we will go ahead and put this to the side. But I want everyone in this room to start brainstorming ideas for how we can retaliate come Thursday. We cannot let this slide. Dismissed.”

  With the bang of a gavel, the group stood. As usual, I hung back. I tried to watch Axle in my peripheral vision, seeing if he acted any funny way, gave any sort of signal.

  Nothing.

  But he’d already given plenty enough.

  As soon as Father Marcellus, the last remaining officer, left, I stared right at Lane.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he said.

  “Yes,” I said. We didn’t need to say it out loud. “But Lane, you have got to be careful. The way that you are acting, the way that you are carrying yourself? That’s the kind of thing that’ll draw suspicion from certain people. That’s the sort of thing that will get you blown before you have the chance to do things your way.”

  Lane fell back into his chair, folding his arms. We both would have liked nothing more than to have called out Axle in the middle of the meeting, but we didn’t have enough evidence yet, not even anywhere close. We needed further proof before we slammed such an extreme allegation down. Otherwise, we were both dead.

  And while Axle was probably the spy, there was still the possibility that he genuinely wanted to be careful and could have believed it was the act of some rebellious teenager.

  “What would you do?” Lane said. “You were in the military. You probably had to conduct attacks in retaliation for different things. What sorts of things would you do?”

  The answer was immediate—it was the sort of thing that got drilled into our heads very early on, an attitude that was less attitude and more religious belief.

  “Default aggression, man,” I said. “When in doubt, be aggressive. Don’t be stupid, but be aggressive. Take it to the enemy.”

  I knew what that phrase meant. At its core, it meant be aggressive not so much in violence but in determining the best course of action. Don’t wait for intel to show up—collect your own. Don’t wait for an opportunity to strike—create one. Don’t wait for the enemy to retaliate—set up a trap for him.

  Unfortunately, the way Lane responded, I wasn’t sure he understood. I think he heard it as “inflict violence.”

  “I like it,” Lane said, a confident smirk forming on his face. “Thanks, bud.”

  I nodded as he left the room, leaving me by myself to ponder what I had just done.

  In some ways, default aggression had helped me a lot. It had led me to join the military, it had led me to join the Black Reapers, and it had got
ten me to do a lot of things in life.

  But it also had given me the saddest day of my life. And unfortunately, it sure seemed like things were unfolding in a very similar fashion as they had before.

  If I were to prevent it this time, I had to make sure everything was in order. Default aggression had to be our, well, default. But we had to make one hundred percent sure.

  Otherwise, I wouldn’t just lose my friends in the club.

  I’d probably lose everyone and everything.

  And when I feared losing everyone and everything, I didn’t just mean within the club.

  Kaitlyn

  I didn’t sleep much that night, but it was weirdly because of how I kept thinking fondly of the evening.

  It wasn’t really a conscious choice, either. It wasn’t like I wanted to think of it happily. Michael just sort of had that effect on me. Even when he was pressing a little too hard on things that weren’t his business, he was a guy who had such a calm air about him that I couldn’t help but forgive him.

  Plus, let’s be honest, he was really freaking handsome.

  Attractive? Or hot?

  Actually…

  But as I parked my car at the hospital the next morning, I reminded myself that I had to keep my personal and professional lives separate. Whatever happened with Michael was bound to create some conflict and difficulties. No matter what, no matter what personal path I went down, I was not going to put my career at risk.

  I walked into the changing room, saw Devon, and nodded to her.

  “Looks like someone had a fun night,” she said.

  I shrugged, playing dumb.

  “I went out and had some fun. Nothing crazy, and nothing like that,” I said, seeing her eyes go wide.

  “Really,” Devon said, sounding like she didn’t quite believe me. “Because rumor is you went out with one of the biker boys.”

  Wait, what?

  “I... I don’t know where you got that idea,” I said, but the halting nature of my words made it all but impossible for her to believe me. “I had a nice evening, but—”

  “Kaitlyn, you don’t have to lie,” she said. “It’s okay to say you went out with one of them. They are quite hot, you know. And besides, Brewskis is the only place where they’ll ever take a lady.”

  Wait, she knows I went to Brewskis too? How much does she know of my night?

  I couldn’t even muster any words in response to her apparent omniscient knowledge of my night. My mouth opened, and I tried to utter something, but nothing came out. There was nothing I could really say. It was like she had spied on me the whole night without me even knowing.

  “How did you know?”

  It was all I could finally utter, but even those words more or less tumbled out of my mouth.

  “I have friends around town, and they say things,” she said—a phrase that left me feeling a little uneasy. “But it’s fine, girl! Really, don’t feel like you have to hide it.”

  “I’m not,” I lied. “I mean, well, okay, it wasn’t exactly something that I was going to come in here and start blabbering about, but it was something that happened, yes. I enjoyed myself, but he’s a nice guy. He’s not like any of the other bikers, he’s very polite and respectful, and the moment that he does something—”

  “Relax,” Devon said, putting a hand up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of it, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I just thought it would be fun to ask you about.”

  To Devon’s credit, she did seem genuinely apologetic about it. In her spot, I probably would have wanted to know how the night went as well.

  But the bigger concern was the fact that I had reacted so negatively to someone else learning the news. What did it say that as soon as Devon had made mention of it, I was trying to rationalize and justify why I was out with Michael? I’d gone on... it wasn’t even a date, really, at least not as determined beforehand.

  God, this is confusing.

  Maybe this was a sign that I needed to back off. I had let myself fall a bit for his charm—okay, I’d let myself fall a lot for his charm. Now that I was sobering up a bit and realizing how I was telling it to other people, though, I had to recognize the best thing to do wasn’t to continue with Michal but to back away before we got too deep.

  It would suck because, on the surface, he was a great guy, but it wasn’t wrong to think that if I, well, yes, dated a biker, I was also kind of dating his entire club. Certainly, the rest of the club did not have the same ease of character that Michael did.

  And if ever there was a faster way to feel like I was shitting on the memory of my sister and the lesson her death had given me…

  “You’re good,” I said, but I had thoughts swirling in my head that made it hard for me to sustain any further conversation with Devon.

  Thankfully, she got called away to one of the rooms. She told me to talk to her if I had any questions, and I thanked her and said I would.

  But how the hell did she know?

  There were only three people in the bar beside us—the bartender and the two Fallen Saints. I had never seen the bartender in my life, and I had my doubts that she knew who I was or who Devon was. I had never seen Devon mention that she had spent time with a bartender friend, and even if she did, I doubted that I made a strong enough impression on the bartender to be discussed between then and now.

  So, the Fallen Saints...

  Was Devon working with them?

  The question seemed too ridiculous to consider, but it was something that at least needed to be broached at some point.

  And what does it mean for you seeing Michael? Don’t you think being with him will make you a target for Devon and the Saints?

  I shuddered. I was going all on conjecture, of course, but...

  “Kaitlyn Meade, please report to room two-fifteen,” the PA announcer said.

  The voice shook me from my thoughts long enough that I got fully dressed for my shift and headed for the second floor. I fell into something of a flow, able to think about the last twelve hours only in brief spurts and having to spend my time with patients. But in those brief moments of quiet and transition, all I could consider was how maybe being with Michael wasn’t just a bad idea for me—it might have been a dangerous one for everyone in my life.

  When the end of my shift came, I grabbed my phone and headed straight for my car. I had decided this was going to end.

  I was going to call Michael and admit there were, yes, romantic feelings, but that for the sake of our safety, I had to squash them. I had to tell him that while I wouldn’t work with him, I would inform him that I suspected one of the nurses was working for the Fallen Saints.

  I wasn’t giving him Devon’s name, though. If Devon was working for them, then that was a situation of need, not of want. No one could have possibly chosen to work for the Saints if they could have helped it.

  I pulled up his number, entered into my phone from a break in the pool game, and hovered over it. Ending something that had potential was never easy, even when it came to something that was barely budding. But it had to be done.

  My thumb reached down.

  And then someone called me, turning my screen black with two options “Answer” or “Ignore.”

  It took me a couple of seconds to realize that it was actually Michael. He had beaten me by about two seconds. I took a breath and told myself that I ought to give him the space to say whatever he needed to, but that I was going to remain firm on ending this now. I had to call it out for what it was and nip it in the bud.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Kaitlyn, it’s Michael, what’s good?”

  “Not much, just wrapped up my shift. You have impeccable timing, you know.”

  “Hah, I’ve been told that before.”

  He paused to clear his throat. I couldn’t quite get a gauge of his tone, but if I had to guess, I would say it was somewhere around nervous but excited. But I didn’t know him well enough to really say for sure one way or the
other.

  “Look, so, I wanted to talk about last night,” he said. “I feel like I’ve been avoiding the fully honest approach in favor of the soft touch, and maybe that works somewhat, but I think it’s time I be fully honest.”

  “Okay,” I said, curious if his “fully honest” was the same as mine.

  “I’ll just say it right out, I like you,” he said. That made me feel warm inside, far more than I cared to admit. “I like you a lot, Kaitlyn. Some might call you stubborn, but I prefer to think of you as someone who is determined and knows what her value is. You’re sweet, but you’re willing to be harsh. You’re unafraid to go into dangerous areas. And you’re smart. Not a lot of women like you.”

  The flattery was nice, but I told myself to remain strong. Words could not change my decision, no matter how sweet.

  “I want to make it clear that when I ask you out, there’s as much a feeling of desire as there is business. In fact, I daresay that you are the woman I am most after right now.”

  Wow. Well, talk about really getting to the point. True to his word.

  “But before I try and make it sound like it’s destiny for me to win your heart, you need to know what sort of shit you’re getting into,” he said with the kind of laugh that was meant more to soften his statement and less to make it sound anything like sarcasm or silliness. “I was in the military, that is absolutely true. But I’ve seen some shit that still affects me to this day. I don’t know if your father ever experienced anything similar, but if you ever had moments where you wish he was more open but actually wasn’t, well, you’re probably going to get a similar experience with me. And… there’s also something else that you need to know.”

  He took a deep breath. I braced myself for a confession of a crime, a confession of club duties, of…

  “I was once married.”

  Of all the things I expected to hear, that definitely was not one of them. In one sense, I guess I could see it—Michael was an attractive guy, so it was of little surprise that someone would have found him attractive enough to marry.