Patch

Contents Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Guide Contents Start of Content CHAPTER ONE I KNEW THE minute I saw her that she couldn’t be mine. But that didn’t stop me from coming into The Devil’s Den Bar every night she worked for the last four months. The Devil’s House MC owned this bar, so it wasn’t unusual for me to be here. After all, I was the President of the club, and we had a reserved booth near the back wall. So, no reason for her to suspect she had become my obsession. Katherine Byrn— thirty-eight-year-old mother of one daughter—has been divorced for three years—rents a townhome with her daughter Bethany on the other side of town. I know her phone number—date of birth, and even her favorite color. Katherine is the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my one good eye on with thick, long auburn hair, the color of my favorite bourbon—almond-shaped eyes the exact same shade—framed by the longest natural lashes I have ever seen. A cute button nose, bow lips, and a smile as warm as sunlight. She was five-foot-five, curvy—always walked with a bounce in her step that was hot as fuck for some reason. Yep, I knew a lot about the woman I could never have. Katherine was too good for a forty-four-year-old one-eyed, scarred outlaw biker like me. Katherine was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside, and I couldn’t bring myself to dirty her with hands like mine. Hands stained with blood and death. She deserved better. Not that she would ever look at me that way. I looked around the room, my eye never leaving Katherine as she worked. It was Friday night, so the bar was busy. The Devil’s Den wasn’t a dive, but it wasn’t real classy either. It catered to a rougher crowd, but the club controlled things. Hillbilly managed the club and didn’t put up with any shit. The Devil’s Den has been around for going on twenty years. The building is a converted auto body shop, and in the warmer months, we roll the doors up and allow customers to overflow the deck outside. The bar has twenty wooden tables, a long wooden bar with fifteen stools, two pool tables, and a small dance floor with a stage for live bands occasionally on the weekend. The walls are covered in bike memorabilia collected over the years—stamping it the biker bar that it was. “Hey, Old Man,” Hillbilly greeted me, shouting over Led Zeppelin, blaring from the speakers, taking a seat in the booth. Hillbilly was one of my Enforcers; he was thirty-five, built like a wall at six-four, body bulging with muscle swirling with Celtic cross and knot tattoos, shoulder-length-blond curly hair, mustache, long beard, and blue eyes that drove the bitches crazy. I was about to tell Hillbilly to fuck off, but it would have to wait. Katherine was headed my way and had my full attention. I watched her approach wearing the bar uniform of daisy dukes and a white t-shirt with The Devil’s Den printed on the front that stretched across her luscious tits. Katherine wore white tennis shoes instead of heels like the other girls, but she was still just as sexy. Her auburn eyes met mine, and her usual warm smile appeared as she got closer and stopped in front of me, her soft floral perfume teasing my nose. The music was loud, so she leaned closer to me, testing me not to haul her onto my lap. “Can I get you another beer, Patch?” she asked, pointing to my empty glass. “Sure thing, Darlin’,” I replied, giving her a gentle smile reserved only for her. “Be right back,” Katherine said, turning and making a beeline for the bar, my eyes glued to her plump ass until the crowd blocked my view. I turned my attention to Hillbilly, who was watching me with a sly grin. “Why don’t you just stake your claim on Katherine and be done with it?” Hillbilly asked. My brothers knew it wasn’t normal for me to spend so much time here—even if Katherine didn’t. I normally divided my time between here, our strip club, the Twisted Heat, and the clubhouse. “I’m not ever having an ol’ lady, so let it be,” I answered with my best don’t fuck with me voice. “Then fuck her, but do something instead of sitting here night after night watching Katherine,” Hillbilly grumbled, shaking his head. I clenched my jaw in anger and snarled, “I told you to mind your own fucking business, Hillbilly.” I didn’t like him implying Katherine could be an easy fuck. She wasn’t like that, and he knew it. Katherine didn’t even date, as far as I knew, and I made it my business to know. “Fine, Patch, have it your way,” Hillbilly answered, throwing his hands up in surrender as Katherine stood in front of me again, setting my beer on the table. “Signal me if you need anything else, Patch,” she informed me before strolling away to wait at other tables. Hillbilly looked at his watch, saying, “It’s that time. I better get up front.” “Don’t be so goddamned feely this time,” I glowered, getting only a mocking smile as he walked away. He wouldn’t be smiling when I broke his hands. A minute later, Cherry Pie by Warrant started to play, and the servers made their way to the front and started to dance. It was something Hillbilly had come up with, and it drew in customers like free beer. One of the girls was a dancer, and once a week, the waitresses practiced a sexy performance. I snarled as I watched