Page 25 of Perdition (Unchained Hearts #4)

And he’d been all hers.

Until now.

Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she checked the time, glanced at the paper bag with the bottles of wine inside sitting on the passenger seat, and started her car.

She definitely needed a night with the girls to help her forget.

Or maybe they can help you untwist what has been twisted.

Cilla, Nadia, and Stephie were all club women; they understood club life, especially the men in that life because they were as woven into it as their men were. Sure, there were things their men wouldn’t and couldn’t tell them, but they were still a vibrant and necessary part of the Unchained.

Just like she’d been for years.

But that had changed when the kids left home, and she’d finally decided to put herself first by focusing on her business.

At first, she’d still been a dedicated part of the club, planning parties, contacting local officials about club charities, keeping the club whores in line, and being a sounding board for the brothers who needed a woman’s perspective.

That hadn’t happened often, but she made sure to give them her full attention when they’d needed it.

Especially for Frost. Their president. Her old man.

Was it so wrong for her to want something of her own after years of giving and giving and giving for her children, her husband, and then his club?

Navigating traffic, Em made it to Cilla’s little house in under fifteen minutes, and when she knocked on the door she was surprised to find Patriot answering.

Because they’d loved Cilla’s place so much, the larger-than-life biker moved into her house, and they were happier together than Em could have ever hoped for them.

And a little jealous, too.

“Hey, Em,” Patriot said, his smile big and bright on his rugged face. You could see his age and his years of military service on his face, in his eyes, but where there was once nothing but darkness, now there was light.

And Cilla had done that for him.

“What you got there?”

“Patriot,” she said, smiling back, hefting the paper bag to show him. “Cilla’s special order Moscato. What’re you doing here?”

Patriot rolled his eyes, his smile only growing in size and intensity.

That man was so gone for his woman.

“Cilla and her fruity wines,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’m just headed out. Stopped in to spend a few moments with her before you ladies descended and monopolize her.”

Em snorted. “This was her idea.”

He shrugged. “She needs friends, good women, and that’s you and those harbingers of doom in there.” He curved his thumb over his shoulder toward the kitchen.

“We heard that, you big oaf,” Stephie’s voice rang out, followed by familiar giggles.

They’d already started hitting the bottle.

Patriot stepped outside the door, allowing Em access.

“I guess I’d better go in there and make sure no one sets fire to anything.” Em, always the reasonable, responsible one.

And it was automatic at that point.

“That’s my job,” a voice said from behind her on the porch.

Em turned to see Vicki, Nadia’s best friend and co-worker standing there, holding a bag of takeout.

“I come bringing Indian food and bottles of flavored water. I have to work tomorrow, and I need to be sober for Sylvia, in case she calls, but Nadia said you needed a night to unwind—decoded for drunk—so I came.”

Patriot chuckled, that deep voice of his making the sound all sorts of sexy.

Lord, the Unchained men were just made too freaking well.

“I’m headed out. You ladies have a good night,” Patriot drawled.

Nadia called for Vicki just as Patriot turned to step down from the porch.

“Hey, Em?” Patriot called, and she stiffened, the tone in his voice different. Heavy. “For what it’s worth, Frost has been struggling—even before shit blew up with Sarah the other day.”

Stunned, Em could only blink at him.

Patriot knew? How much did he know?

“We’ve all been on him about his time with Sarah, but he’s had his head so far up his own ass, he’s been oblivious to it.”

Oblivious to the point of sticking his dick in her? Like— whoa , how did that get in there?

“I can see from the look on your face that you’re thinking something dangerous—and I get it. We did, too, at first. But that man is so fucking in love with you, he’d never go there, not in a million years. Yeah, he fucked up, but…well…I honestly don’t think he’s too far gone for repentance.”

Swallowing the tears of anger and hurt, and the ball of sick and shame in her throat, she choked, “I wish I could believe that.”

Patriot’s eyes softened, his face etched with concern and understanding.

“I know. And so does he.” He turned to walk toward his bike parked along the street, but spoke to her over his shoulder, “Take tonight, Em, because those women will let you cry and rage all over them. But, please…give him a chance, yeah?”

As Patriot walked away, and the sounds of laughter blurred behind her, images of that red maple, splintered and savaged, filled her mind.

Memories of the angrily scrawled note and the carelessly tossed property kutte overwhelmed her thoughts.

She’d already cut away pieces of herself, of him, and them that couldn’t be repaired.

Em couldn’t help but think…it was already too late.