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“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.”



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.”

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