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  To you.

  The one who helped save me.

  You will find love again, for you may hate deep,

  but you love even deeper.

  No matter how much you try to deny it.

  You’re beautiful, inside and out.

  “Your joy can fill you only as deeply as your sorrow has carved you.”

  —Kahlil Gibran

  PROLOGUE

  ARROW

  I STARE down into my Scotch, twirling the amber liquid around in the glass. The clubhouse moves around me, people talking, laughing, and carrying on, but I feel like I’m frozen. Like the world is moving around me, but I’m stuck in place. I know I’m held back by my own demons, my own guilt, but I don’t deserve any redemption. My neck strains as I tilt my head back, memories playing in my mind like an old movie.

  Mary gathers her clothes and dresses slowly.

  I take in her every move.

  Everything about her is gentle.

  Beautiful.

  What the hell am I doing? Why do I keep her at a distance?

  Faye is right—Mary is one of a kind and I shouldn’t be fucking around on her. Even if she knows about it. Mary has never once tried to change me. She’s taken me as I am—my many faults and all.

  How many women would do the same?

  “Have a safe run, Arrow,” she says softly, lifting her dark hair off her back and tying it up.

  “Come here,” I demand softly.

  She instantly complies.

  She’s good like that, always wanting to make me happy, but at the same time—she’s not weak. She’s intelligent, sharp, and knows what she wants in life.

  I’m just lucky enough to be one of those things.

  I want to tell her that I only want to be with her and that I’m going to do right by her.

  I want to tell her I want her as my old lady.

  But I don’t.

  “We need to talk when I get back,” I say, needing time to gather the right words.

  She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Is everything okay?”

  “It will be,” I tell her, kissing her heart-shaped lips.

  It will be okay the moment I tell her how much I love her.

  My eyes snap open, and I shake my head, laughing without humor.

  I never did tell her that I loved her.

  She was dead because of me, and she died thinking . . . What would she have been thinking? That I didn’t care for her? That I should have been there to protect her? To save her? Maybe before her life faded away she wished that she’d never met me, never wasted her time on me.

  She might have been right.

  I lift the glass to my lips and drink, the warm liquid sliding down my throat with ease. Since getting out of prison, I’ve been spending some of my time at local strip clubs, and I know everyone thinks I am getting laid, but I’m not. I let them think that. The truth is, I go there to torture myself. I drink; I watch; I keep my mind busy. What I didn’t do was fuck anyone. I haven’t been with anyone since Mary. It has been years—five, to be exact. She doesn’t get to move on and live her life, so why should I? I like the fact that she is the last woman I was with. What I couldn’t give to her in life I am giving her in death.

  Rake walks in, a blond woman by his side. I know exactly who she is, because Rake’s been bragging about her ever since the day I fuckin’ met him. I’ve seen a picture of her, but it seems to have not done her any justice.

  Anna.

  Just the temptation I don’t need.

  Her eyes dart to me as she offers me a small smile.

  I don’t return it.

  I peruse her body slowly, tempting myself with something I could never have.

  When I feel myself harden, I know I need to get the fuck out of here. Standing up, I down the rest of my drink and place it on the table. Rake is introducing Anna to everyone, and I need to leave before it’s my turn, but my feet don’t seem to want to move.

  What is it about this woman? I can’t remember the last time I studied one so carefully. To me, they are all the same, some just come in better packaging. Maybe it is all the things Rake has told me about her over the years? I almost feel as if I know her. She’s even more fuckin’ beautiful up close and personal. I hear the stories about her. Everything from their childhood antics to what she’s been studying in school. Rake thinks the world of her, and either he’s blinded by her, or the woman truly has a heart of gold. She’s apparently intelligent and sweet, but she also has a wild streak in her. And she has a fiery, tough side, from what I hear. An interesting mix for a man like me. Mary was all sweetness, but that didn’t exactly work in her favor—she was just too good for me. With my lifestyle, I need a woman who can handle everything that comes with it, the good, the bad, and, most important, the ugly.

  What the fuck was I thinking?

  I don’t need a woman right now. At least not anything long-term. I need a drink and some willing pussy, not an old lady. Anna is completely off-fuckin’-limits. I got the last woman I cared for killed. I’m not going to put anyone in that position again. Being with me isn’t safe, and I don’t deserve some poor woman caring about me anyway. Mary got death, but I got a sentence. Not just to prison, but to be alone. That’s my penance.

  The smell of a fresh vanilla scent pulls me from my thoughts. Something that doesn’t help with my boner. Great, I was standing here, fuckin’ daydreaming like a kid, and didn’t make a getaway.

  “Arrow, this is Anna,” Rake says, smiling proudly. “Anna, meet Arrow.”

  “Nice to meet you, Arrow,” she says, her plump lips curving around each word.

  I nod my head. “You too.”

  Fuck, she’s beautiful.

  I look to Rake and slap him on the shoulder. “I’m going out. I’ll see you later, brother.”

  I have no right to be attracted to Rake’s sister.

  So what if the moment I saw her, the world around me unfroze?

  I don’t deserve sweetness like that.

  Rake frowns. “You can’t stay a bit?” He steps closer to me so only I can hear. “I want Anna to feel welcome.”

  He doesn’t want her to run scared, I can see it in his eyes. He’s afraid she won’t want anything to do with us, him, or this lifestyle.

  A valid concern.

  I lick my bottom lip, not wanting to hurt Rake but needing to get away right now.

  He saves me. “Don’t worry, you go on ahead.”

  “Thanks, brother,” I tell him, flashing him a grateful look. I can’t help myself—my eyes dart to the woman before me, to see her already watching me, a thoughtful expression on her face.

  Yeah, that’s not good.

  “See you around, Anna,” I manage to get out.

  She arches a delicate brow. “You can count on it.”

  I leave the clubhouse feeling like something just changed, even though I know it is impossible.

  Mary is six feet under, where I should be.

  It should have been me. I lead this life. She was just a veterinarian who hooked up with the wrong man. A man who couldn’t offer her anything other than a good fuck. Not even monogamy.

  I don’t need to drag anyone else down with me; what I need to do is to stay away from Anna, the first woman who’s stirred any interest in me in a long time.

  I get on my bike and ride away, pushing thoughts of a perky little blonde ou
t of my head.

  ONE

  ANNA

  DO you have any plans now?” Damien asks as we walk out of the lecture.

  I turn to him. “My ride will be here soon. I’m just going home. I have a lot to do.”

  “Oh, okay. How about this weekend?”

  Damien’s a nice guy, but I don’t feel anything when I look at him. He is just a friend; not even that, more of an acquaintance.

  “I’m going out with my best friend, Lana, this weekend,” I reply, forcing a smile. I don’t want to lead him on, but I don’t want to hurt him either. I am horrible in these kinds of situations.

  “Maybe I could take you—”

  I roll my eyes as I hear the rumble of a motorcycle, stopping Damien midsentence. Sliding my phone into my bag for safekeeping, I say, “Gotta go, Damien. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “’Bye, Anna.”

  Right on time—like clockwork.

  I glance around the courtyard, then walk toward the parking lot. You would think at my age I could catch a bus home to my apartment without any drama, but that isn’t the case. I don’t have a car, but I’m saving up for one. However, my brother makes sure I have a lift home after class, especially if I finish in the late afternoon. I’m still not sure how I feel about it. It does feel good to have someone, my brother in particular, looking out for me, but at the same time, after doing my own thing for so long, I feel a little claustrophobic.

  My brother is one of my favorite people in the world, and after not having seen him for some time, I am happy to be getting to know him again. I just moved back to the city, and am finding the move easier than I had anticipated, mainly because my best friend, Lana, is here. We’d stayed in touch ever since I moved away, so I’m psyched to be so close to her now. My brother has changed, but I know that he still loves and cares about me. I’m the only family he has, after all. His overprotectiveness, however, needs to change. I know he means well and is trying to make up for lost time, but the constant escorts are beginning to drive me batshit crazy. He keeps an eye on my every move and sometimes tries to dictate them. I feel like I’m in a damn prison. I love my brother and I’m trying to make this work for the both of us, but we’re both still on shaky ground, not 100 percent comfortable with each other yet. We’re feeling each other out, seeing how we’ve both changed and how we’ve stayed the same.

  I don’t miss the curious stares from the other students on campus, but I ignore them. I can just imagine how it looks, my getting picked up every day by a different man on a motorcycle, each one of them sporting a Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club cut. Luckily for me, I’m not a young, insecure girl anymore and there’s only a handful of people in the world whose opinion I actually care about. Likely they think I’m a biker groupie, or something along those lines. In reality, I’m just a twenty-five-year-old PhD student and a girl who happens to be the younger sister of a Wind Dragons MC member. If people want to judge me, that’s their prerogative, and I couldn’t care less.

  I’m proud of my brother. He is who he is. He means well and I know he loves me. Yes, he’s a biker, belonging to a motorcycle club that is well-known in these parts, but he’s also a good man.

  Adam’s always been a good man.

  He also happens to be a huge pain in my ass, a total man-whore, and overprotective to the point of stupidity. Ever since I was a little girl, he’d taken his role of big brother very seriously. It probably had to do with the fact that we didn’t know who our father was, and our mother was . . . absent. That was putting it nicely—in fact, our mother was a junkie who left us to fend for ourselves ever since I could remember.

  My brother also made it his business to scare off any potential dates, and that hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s gotten worse. It seems when most men around here find out who my brother is, they decide I’m not worth the ass kicking they’ll get—but in a way it’s almost like a screening test. I don’t want a man who’s a pussy and afraid of my brother. I want a strong man who’ll tell my brother to fuck off and smile while he’s doing it. The thought makes me grin to myself.

  I wonder who my babysitter will be today.

  Seeing the sexy beard and the wide shoulders encased in tight black fabric, I smile broadly, pleased with my escort for today. I walk straight up to his idling bike, sashaying my hips with each step.

  “Good afternoon, Arrow,” I say, grinning cheekily.

  He narrows his eyes on me. “You gonna give me trouble today, Anna?”

  Probably.

  But only because he needs it. The man hardly smiles, so I find myself being more playful around him than I am around anyone else, just to get a reaction out of him.

  “Anna?” he repeats, staring at me weirdly when I don’t reply, continuing to study him, lost in my own thoughts.

  Fuck, but I love the way he says my name. Arrow must have a good ten years on me, but he doesn’t look it. Not to me. He has a better body than most of the men my age and a beard that looks badass on him.

  I do love a good beard.

  You can tell that under the beard is a strong, square jaw. I wonder if he has a dimple in his chin.

  He also has soulful brown eyes that you just know have seen the world at its worst, but he’s still survived. He has faint crinkles on either side of his eyes, letting me know he once used to laugh a lot. His mouth is full, firm, and entirely lickable.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him with a shrug. I push my blond hair off my face and flash him an innocent look. I have the same green eyes as my brother, and while his incite lust from the opposite sex, mine don’t seem to be doing the same. Arrow’s face turns grumpier, if that’s even possible. What the hell is he so moody about all the time? Yes, I heard he did time in jail, but most bikers do at some point, don’t they? At least the ones I’ve heard of. Okay, I guess I shouldn’t stereotype like that. But Arrow did do time, although I don’t know what for. I overheard my brother talking with Tracker, another member of the MC. I’ve been around these bikers for a month or so now, and out of all of them, Arrow is the one who keeps both his distance and his guard up.

  He’s also the one I can’t stop thinking about.

  Quite a conundrum.

  Well, for me anyway.

  Have you ever seen someone for the first time and just wanted them? Something about them attracts you, like a moth to a flame, without rhyme or reason. Every time I look at Arrow I feel that pull. That want, that need. There is something about him, something that draws me to him. Sure, he is gruff and rough around the edges. He is also temperamental, broody, and usually pretty damn grumpy. He is a man of few words—the strong, silent type. The more time he is forced to spend as my babysitter, the more I’ve gotten him to open up. Slowly, little by little, he’s started speaking to me. It is progress, but still, I know I am stupid to hope for anything more. Sure, my heart races whenever he is near, but I try to ignore that little factor as best as I can. It doesn’t change anything. Arrow is my guilty pleasure, something I know I shouldn’t want but want anyway. The thing is, I’ve seen little glimpses of him that make me believe he is more than he shows the world. I’ve seen him playing with Clover, the MC president’s daughter, and sneaking her strawberry candy. I’ve seen him tickling her, her loud giggles echoing throughout the room. I then overheard him telling her that if any boy messes with her, to let him know and he would take care of it because no one hurts the princess.

  She’s five.

  No one can tell me the man doesn’t have a heart.

  “Get on the bike and hold on,” he demands, turning away from me. It frustrates me that he never looks at me for longer than he has to. Is he not attracted to me at all? I’m not vain, but I know that I’m not completely unfortunate in the looks department. Adam has even said I’m too beautiful for my own good, but as my brother, I guess he’s a little biased.

  Maybe Arrow sees me as nothing more than Adam’s baby sister. But that doesn’t explain why he always seems so eager to l
eave my presence. I like to think I’m easy to be around, and sometimes even a little fun.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as he hands me my helmet.

  “Rake wants to see you at the clubhouse,” he replies distractedly.

  “Then why didn’t he pick me up himself?” I ask. Not that I’m complaining, since I secretly covet being around Arrow, but still.

  “I was closer to campus, so it just made more sense. Now are you getting on the bike or are we gonna sit around while all these stuck-up assholes stare at us?”

  I look around.

  Yeah, people are still staring. If he didn’t want the attention, maybe he shouldn’t have worn his cut today. Who am I kidding? People would stare either way. Arrow is imposing. It is in his build, the breadth of his shoulders, the way he carries himself. The sharpness of his gaze. He just commands attention around him, and there is nothing he can do about it. He couldn’t fade into the background if he tried. I slide onto the back of his bike. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I grip the leather in my hands and lean into him. He smells like leather and . . . strawberry candy? I want to ask, but before I can he starts the engine and pulls out of the lot. I hold tight, enjoying both the ride and the feel of my body pressed against his.

  I’d never been on a motorcycle until I moved back here. It was a new experience, and one I found that I loved. Nothing felt more freeing, and I found myself wanting to get my own motorcycle license. If being on the back feels this way, I can only imagine how good it feels to be in front, in control of the bike.

  I wonder what my brother would think about that idea.

  Adam and I didn’t have the best childhood growing up. Neither of us talks about it much, to each other or to anyone else—at least that’s how it used to be before I left. After I turned eighteen, I moved to the other side of the country for college. That was the year Adam—or should I say Rake—joined the Wind Dragons MC. We kept in touch here and there, messages, phone calls on birthdays and holidays, but for the most part we grew apart. He was busy, I was busy, and we were too far away to be of any real use to each other. I know he’s proud of me. He used to tell me every time we spoke on the phone. He was happy I was making something of myself—starting from scratch to become someone statistics prove I shouldn’t be. I also know he wants the best for me, he always has, but it almost feels like he doesn’t know how to act around me anymore, how to be himself. He’s changed over the years, I guess being in a motorcycle club will do that, but underneath he’s still my Adam. A mix of protective, sweet, and goofy and usually found with a grin on his face or a woman on his arm.