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Where was she? He knew she was home.
He knocked again.
Still…she didn’t answer.
Why wasn’t she answering the door?
Cilla…his Cilla…was ignoring him?
What the hell?
Giving her a few more minutes to answer, he could only sigh when the door remained shut, and Cilla remained on the other side. Hiding from him.
Realizing he wasn’t going to see her, that she was keeping herself from him, he walked away.
Had she somehow figured out about him…about what he’d done…about what he was? Had someone told her about Johnny Smith and the atrocities he’d committed in the name of patriotism?
Was she running from him because she finally realized what a monster he was?
His mind reeling. His heart misfiring. His breath lodged in his throat.
This is bullshit!
No. She didn’t know. She couldn’t. The only one who knew the real him—Sgt. Johnny Smith of the 56th Battalion—was Stallion, and that man would rather cut out his own tongue than ever spill any of Patriot’s secrets. Even if he did eventually hate his guts for what Patriot had done with Jaime, Stallion was a man of honor. He wouldn’t tell a fucking soul, as Stallion the Unchained MC nomad or as Sgt Maj. Brandon Green, fellow soldier, and childhood friend.
No, Cilla didn’t know anything Patriot didn’t want her to know, so why was she hiding from him behind her door?
I’ll get the truth from her…even if I’m hiding all my truths from her.
He’d give Cilla until he got back on Monday to deal with whatever the fuck kept her from answering her door. But she couldn’t hide from him forever.
FIVE
Three days later—a total of four days since the party—Cilla was doing an admirable job of avoiding a certain biker, who seemed like he was making a point of being everywhere she was. Work. The grocery store. Walking down the street from Roseanna’s Pizza to her house….
Every time she saw him, she either ignored him or she walked faster, doing her best to put space or aisles or people or moving vehicles between them. Every time he appeared, her heart leapt—the stupid thing forgetting that he wasn’t hers, that he never would be, that he was with Jaime and was going to claim her. Her heart didn’t care. It still ached when she looked away, it still missed him when the sun set and she hadn’t spoken with him, heard his voice, or looked into his beautiful eyes.
And each time she managed to slip away without talking to him, Patriot looked more and more pissed off.
She had no freaking clue why he was being so persistent. He was with Jaime, was going to claim her soon, so why was he making a point of hunting her down every day?
Had she done something wrong? Had she inadvertently committed a sin against the club that last night at that party?
Reclining on her ten-year-old couch, she heaved a heavy sigh. Leaning her head back against the cushion, she closed her eyes and thought. Hard.
She remembered the night like it was a movie playing behind her eyes. She’d gotten the call from Stephie the day before, telling her about the party and how Patriot would be returning after being gone for three days. Cilla had missed Patriot—their morning chats over his coffee had been the highlight of every day. When he was gone, the diner always felt…empty. Cold. Like it was missing a vital piece that made it whole.
Much like her.
It hadn’t taken a whole lot of convincing to get Cilla to agree to attend, and once the ‘yes’ had left her lips, something had taken over her. She’d decided, in that moment, that she would make her move on Patriot.
Oh…sweet summer child.
What a fool she’d been to think that Patriot would even consider what they did have as anything more than patron and waitress. Sure, they chatted at the club parties but, as the Slut Trio had said, he felt obligated to her because Cilla was Stephie’s friend, and Stephie was with one of his club brothers. Those men would do anything for each other, even act as a sort of wingman to make sure the DUFF of his brother’s woman was occupied at the parties.
Swallowing back a fresh batch of tears, Cilla couldn’t stop her memories from the rest of her evening from invading.
Seeing Patriot, feeling her heart race from just being near him, talking with him, enjoying his presence…then the bathroom, being trapped in the stall while the Slutketeers tore her to pieces.
