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Besides that, he wouldn’t like it if some man were calling and texting Cilla all day, so he could see how it rankled. Then again, if another man even looked at Cilla with a single drop of anything other than professionalism or friendliness on his face, Patriot would make sure his face didn’t escape the meet unscathed.
He checked his watched and grumbled. Jaime was already ten minutes late, so it was a good thing he showed up early to grab some lunch. He was fucking starved after his two day fuckfest with Cilla. That woman was sweet and shy, but once you got her naked, she was a goddamn sex goddess. And she was all his.
Readjusting the growing problem in his jeans, he tensed when the woman he was waiting for finally walked through the door.
As the receptionist for a Mercedes dealership, Jaime was the first thing prospective Benz buyers saw, so she dressed to the nines during work hours. Now, during her lunch hour, she was still dressed as a professional, but somehow, between the dealership and the burger joint, three of the buttons on her blouse seemed to have come unbuttoned, and hair he knew she usually wore up in the office was now down and loose around her shoulders.
What the fuck was she playing at?
Sure, Jaime wanted this to be a “date” to help get her stalker off her tits, but she didn’t have to put all that much effort into it. It only needed to “look” like they were out together for whoever the fuck was messing with her to get the message that Jaime was “taken”, and then back the fuck off.
Just that morning, Red had texted him that he was still looking for more video of the asshat who left the note on Jaime’s door. Patriot knew Red was fucking good at what he did, but there was only so much the man could do if there were literally no other cameras as witness.
Maybe if Jaime gave up the fuckers name…. Patriot was already glutted on his impatience with Jaime. He was fucking tired of playing things her way, which meant that by the time lunch was over, he’d have the creeper’s name, address, phone number, and what his fear smelled like—because his first stop after this meet with Jaime was a visit to the asswipe bothering her.
This stalker issue would be done and dusted by dinner, and he could grab Cilla and take her to his place, and they’d break in his bed. Or break it.
He really wanted this shit over with already, because as sweet and understanding as Cilla was, there was only so much his woman could take before she kicked his ass to the curb—and he wouldn’t blame her one bit. It wouldn’t stop him from coming back, though, because there was no fucking way Cilla was getting rid of him. He was hooked. She was his. They were inevitable.
After grabbing a chicken salad and a diet soda, Jaime sat down across from him and leaned over the table, flashing her barely restrained tits at him. Her face, all made up, was inches from his before he figured out she was coming in for a kiss. He turned his head just as her painted lips met the flesh of his cheek.
Shit-fuck!
That was close as hell. No other woman’s lips would touch his—he was a motherfucking taken man.
Yeah, but as far as Jaime knows, you’re hers. Because I can’t tell her about Cilla….
Like hell would he let Jaime think they were a couple. It was all for show! Once the stalker was dealt with, Jaime could fuck right off with her bullshit.
In the meantime….
He forced a smile and said through his clenched jaw, “What the fuck, Jaime?”
She glared at him, pouting. “It was a kiss, not a big deal, Patriot. It’s not like we haven’t done worse.” She smirked, her insinuation heavy and gross.
“We aren’t going there, now or ever again. This is already more than I wanted to deal with,” Patriot protested.
She huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder in a practiced move that somehow made her boobs thrust higher in her already near to bursting blouse. How the hell did she get away with wearing something like that at work?
“We have to make it look real, Patriot. It has to work….” Her voice wobbled, along with her bottom lip. “I’m scared.”
Taking in the look on her face, Patriot bit back a curse. “What’s happened?”
She didn’t answer, instead she pulled her cell from her purse, touched shit on the screen, then slid the phone across the table.
Suddenly, a voice filled the space between them. An angry voice.
“Bitch, I know you’re paying the filthy biker to play boyfriend for you. It won’t work. You’re mine, and there’s nothing he can do to keep you away from me. I will have you, Jaime. Keep away from that piece of shit Unchained, or I’ll make you both wish he was dead.”
Stunned at the violence in the stranger’s words, Patriot leaned back in his seat, blinking down at the offending piece of technology.
“That was waiting for me this morning. The call was from a blocked number, so I didn’t answer. And this morning, when I got to work, I checked my voicemail, and that was there.”
“Shit,” Patriot spat. “That’s more than just a stalker, Jaime, that’s a fucking threat against me, against the club.”
She nodded, her eyes wide and filled with fear.
“And that’s not the worst of it, Patriot,” she rasped, reaching out to grab the phone with trembling fingers.
