Riding into town, everything feels like déjà vu. Alertness cascades through my body as I take it all in.

The town is beautiful.

It’s nothing like the rolling hills and quiet dirt roads of Texas. People and buildings stretch on for miles, everybody leaving work or arriving for a night on the town. All the buildings look fresh, as if some had been put up within the last year. Elation hums under my skin with the busy vibe.

Pulling into a parking space along the sidewalk, Drifter shuts off the bike and removes his helmet. Doing the same I hand it to him, watching as he hangs it on the handle. Climbing off I stand next to him.

“Where are we going?”

Letting out a sigh, I can tell he battles with himself. “I have to take care of some business, sweetheart.” Leaning forward, he mumbles something about Buck and leaving shit alone under his breath and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. Thumbing through the cash, he hands me a couple hundred dollars. “I should only be about an hour. Along this strip there are shops, food, anything you could need. Stay on the strip,” he demands, uncertainty in his eyes. “If you need me, you fucking call me, I don’t care what it’s about. I’ll have my phone in my hand.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he shows me, making his point. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”

Curiosity nips at me but I let it go, knowing it’s a battle I won’t win. When the word business comes out of Buck or Drifter’s mouth it means mind your own.

Looking at the wad of cash in my hands, I move to give it back. “I have money,” I say quietly, even though I know it’s useless. Anytime I try to spend the money I earned from my paintings and the work I did at the hospital, I get a lecture on how I should save it.

Like I said…father figures.

“Don’t argue with me, Emmy. Take the money.”

Folding it up, I place the cash in my pocket. “Okay.”

He lifts off the bike and I take a step back, giving him room to stand in front of me. Leaning down he kisses my forehead. “Don’t wander, okay?” he pleads with worry.

Giving an assuring smile, he stares at me for a moment longer before slipping between two shops and disappearing down the alley.

I know Drifter has a hard time letting me do things on my own. When he would come visit me in Texas it was like being smothered in bubble wrap. So I know going into town was Buck’s idea and it left Drifter with his back in a corner. I know it’s not that Drifter doesn’t trust me or cares about me more than Buck does… it’s just different. Buck wants me to experience things like a normal person, he wants me to fall and get back up. While Drifter would rather hide me from the evil and spare me the hurt.

They both see my past differently and want to help me overcome it in separate ways. Each just wanting me happy. I love them both equally and unconditionally, I know without either of them I would be lost.

Letting out a sigh, I face the strip. The sunset hitting the windows of the shops causes me to squint at the brightness.

Okay… I can do this.

* * *

Coming out of a little antique shop that hides in the middle of two designer stores, I look down at my phone.

It’s been almost two hours and I still haven’t heard from Drifter. Concern nips at me as I look up and down the sidewalk. Everything seems quieter as the afternoon rolls into night.

I know I can call but I don’t want to interrupt his business. I’m sure he just got hung up. He won’t be much longer…

Wandering around, I subconsciously look at each building searching for something familiar but come up blank. Shouldn’t I recognize something…anything?

Continuing down the strip, I don’t realize how far I’ve gone. The sound of squealing followed by laughter causes me to jump. Looking across the street I see a group of women with hardly any clothes on laugh as they throw themselves at a group of men.

That familiar feeling I was searching for calls to me and like a deer drawn to headlights I move forward.

As I cross the street, everyone moves inside and the sidewalk becomes quiet again.

Standing in front of the large two story building, my heart speeds up. Unlike the rest of the structures this one is more rugged, older…familiar.

“Sunshine,” I say out loud reading the name on top of the building. The name itself doesn’t ring a bell but the emblem stamped next to it does. Cocking my head to the side, I try to get a better look at it but it’s too high up.

“You coming to party?” a man’s deep voice asks, causing me to practically jump off the ground. With my hand to my heart, I meet the man’s stare and laughter shines back at me. Looking me over he adds, “You don’t look like it. How old are you, sweets?”

Ignoring his question, I look back to the wooden double doors and try to steady my pulse. Where did he even come from?

“What is this place?” I ask, turning back and facing the man. A black shirt stretches across his torso matching his black jeans. The word Bouncer written in bold letters tell me who he is.

“You’re new around here, huh?” he observes with a smirk. “It’s a club.”

Unable to stop myself, I inch forward and ask, “Can I go in?”

“This place doesn’t seem like your thing, baby,” he says, looking me up and down surveying my paint splattered clothes.

I look nothing like the girls who walked in here moments ago.

“You 21?” he asks, noticing the disappointment on my face.

“Yes.”

Not looking too convinced, he opens the door for me anyway. “Because you’re fucking cute and you act like you’ve never heard of a club before, I am going to let you in… just don’t cause trouble, yea? I’d hate to throw your sexy ass out. Bar’s on the first floor, club’s on the second.”

Ignoring his comment and not bothering to assure him of my age, I walk past him.

Letting my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I take it all in. The outside might be older but the inside is new, more modern. Black, red and gold overrun the place giving it that sleek yet sensual vibe. One long bar stretches out along the back, while tables take up the rest of the room. It’s packed. Everyone lounges around drinking, some watching whatever sport is on the giant TV’s that hang on each wall, others talking and laughing in their groups. All without a care in the world. All oblivious to the anxiety shaking me to my core. Looking to the right, a set of lit up stairs lead up to what I assume is the club.

Sweat beads on the back of my neck as the doors open and I get a glimpse of the hundreds of people crowded up there and hear the music blaring.

I can go in there…Baby steps.

Forcing one foot in front of the other I walk to the bar, the feeling of the eyes watching me as I go has me wanting to turn and run.

I am so out of my element. Looking around me no one even looks my way. It’s all in my head.

Taking a deep breath, I continue forward. Fueled by curiosity and something I can’t explain, I squeeze past the many bodies and take a seat on the only bar stool available.

Captivated by the beautiful display of alcohol along the back wall, I don’t hear the man until he is right in front of me.

“What can I get-”

Cutting off the second our eyes meet, he stops in his tracks, the glass he was holding dangles from his suspended hand. His gray eyes widen in surprise, then narrow in suspicion as he looks around me.

Confused by his reaction I follow his searching gaze and check my surroundings, but just like before, no one seems to be paying any attention to me.

“Are you here alone?” he questions, drawing me back to him. The harshness in his tone confuses me just as much as it scares me. Placing his hands against the bar he leans closer, the dominance of his stare leaves me immobile.

“I…yes,” I answer stuttering. My hands go to my necklace as I try to gain my bearings.

Unable to hold his stare any longer, my eyes shoot to his chest. Just like Drifter he is armed with a worn-out leather vest – or cut. But this man’s is different, the patches aren’t the same.

“You want something to drink?” he asks, his voice demanding and harsh.

I don’t understand what I’ve done…

Snapping my attention to his, I watch him type into his phone.

“Umm, can I just get a water?”

I should just call Drifter and have him come get me…

Without a word, he puts down his phone and grabs the glass he had just a second ago. Scooping ice into the glass, he pours it full of water setting it down in front of me.

Wrapping my hand around the cold glass, I chase away the condensation with my thumb.

“Thank you,” I whisper quietly but I don’t look up. I feel defeated, everything seems to be going against me today.

I don’t know why I felt drawn to this place. Why would a bar hold any significance to me?

I’m obviously not welcome here. And I’m not the kind of girl to come here.

“You look lost,” he says surprising me, the feeling of his scrutiny keeps my head bowed.

“I’m always lost.” Why did I just say that? What is wrong with me?

Jerking my eyes to him, I see understanding flash across his hard face and I find myself lifting my head, captivated by him.

Something about this man brings me comfort… maybe it’s just his dominant attitude, maybe it’s the cut on his back.

Taking in his dark hair that’s shaved into a mohawk and his tattoos that run from his neck and disappear in his shirt, I end up back to his haunted eyes. Maybe it’s because the pain I see lingering in the depths of them and rolling off of him like a protective layer mirror my own.

Seeing my obvious thoughts plastered on my face, his eyes narrow into thin slits and he turns abruptly heading for the back wall.

Watching him go, everything stills. Everything turns to white noise.

Holy shit…

Printed on the back of his cut is the same insignia that is on the name out front, only this time I can read it.

Stumbling out of my seat I grip the edge of the bar. The image of a woman being held by a skeleton in a cloak flashes in my eyes even when I close them.

The words wrapped underneath it echo in my ears. ‘Soulless Sinners’

The chair clattering to the floor causes the man to spin back around, his angry stare quickly turning to confusion and worry as he steps forward. Holding out my hands, I open my mouth to say something but can’t find any words.

Something about the name on his cut is causing me to panic.

I need to get out of here.

Now…

The sound of the door to the club flying open and cracking against the wall causes me to spin around in panic. My hands going to my heart.

More men in the same cut come flying down the stairs with women tailing behind them.

“Emmy?” The man behind the bar calls my name and I turn back, confusion and fear growing higher. He knows my name? “Are you okay?” he asks, leaning over the bar.

“How-”

“Yo, Rage!” One of the guys yells, cutting me off as they crowd behind me racing to the bar. “Get us some fucking drinks, these ladies are fucking thirsty!” Noticing I’m standing right next to him, he looks down at me, his closeness forcing me to take a couple steps back. The feeling of being surrounded has me wanting to run, my mind begging my body to move. “Hey there, baby, you lost?” he asks. “Wearin’ an awful lot of clothes to be here partyin’.”

“Mayhem!” Rage growls, causing the giant in front of me to look away. “Leave her alone.”

The surprise that flashes in Mayhem’s eyes mirrors my own. Looking between Rage and me, Mayhem throws his head back and lets out a laugh. “Shit, Rage, you gettin’ all fucking territorial over pussy? I never thought I’d see the day!” A slender hand grips Mayhem’s shoulders, stopping whatever else he was going to say as one of the girls pulls him away smacking her gum. “Come on, baby, let’s take some shots,” she purrs, securing his undivided attention.

I really shouldn’t have come here… what was I thinking?

Looking back to Rage I see he isn’t paying any attention to me, he’s glaring behind me.

This is just too much. Without a word, I spin around ready to run when I turn right into Drifter’s arms.

“Drifter!” I shriek startled and relieved.

With his muscles popping along his jaw, he wraps his arm around my waist and bores daggers over my shoulder, him and Rage not backing down from each other.

There is so much more going on than I know. It’s bigger than just me.

Tearing his attention away, he pulls me to the exit, storming out of the club.

“What the fuck were you thinking, Emmalyn?” he growls the moment we get outside. The use of my full name causes me to flinch. “I told you to stay on the strip.” Running his hands through his hair, he takes a deep breath trying to control himself.

Wrapping my arms around my waist, I whisper my apology. “I’m sorry, Drifter. I don’t even really know how I got here.” I murmur, wishing I had just stayed home.

Going to say something, he glances over my shoulder. His whole body tenses and his spine straightens, whatever he was going to say lost.

“Let’s go,” he demands and pulls me to his side.

Turning to see what caught his attention, I glance over my shoulder and everything in me ignites.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I would see. Even though he said he would always find me… I never thought…

Standing there on the side of the club is my hooded stranger. The darkness from the alleyway only allows me to see his silhouette. But it’s him.

He’s here…

Watching over me.

All the emotions that have threatened me all day; all the doubt and fear that clung to my mind, refusing to let up... it all just vanishes.

As crazy as it is, the piece that has been missing since leaving Texas, the emptiness I’m always trying to fill, stitches itself together.

All morning I have felt defeated and all afternoon I have felt lost and confused but right this second, none of it matters. Right at this moment I feel that no matter what, I’m going to be okay.

Straddling his bike, Drifter hands me my helmet, his moves jerky and not like the Drifter I know.

“How was your business?” I ask, fumbling with the straps of the helmet, not ready to put it on.

“It’s getting worked out,” he answers, finally meeting my eyes. “I’m sorry it took so long… I didn’t mean to scare you back there.”

Giving a small smile, I shrug it off.

“Ready?”

Hesitating, I fidget nervously. “Can I ask you something?”

Waiting for me to continue I ask, “Who are the Soulless Sinners?”

“They are the local MC,” he answers coolly. His knuckles turn white under the street light as he grips the handles harder.

Those letters trigger something in my mind “Motorcycle Club.” I say out loud.

Giving a slow and unsure nod he continues. “They took over this town years ago. Hell, they practically have the entire west coast in their pocket now,” he says in near admiration. “Started opening up shops left and right. Kicked out the drug dealers and scum bags, making this place livable. They became the law, they are the law. Taking care of shit with blood instead of paper work, no one crosses them.” Shaking his head, he continues, “Had a lot of people scared at first. But other than the stuff that goes on behind their closed doors, it’s really been a blessing for this town to have them here. They take care of it and the people.”

With new eyes, I look around me at all the shops that are now closed. All thriving and new, holding stories of how they came about.

“I’m not ready to go home yet,” I say looking up to the night sky.

“Where do you want to go?”

Meeting his eyes, I ask, “Can you take me to where that picture was taken? The one with the trees?”

He looks away so fast I almost miss the flash of fear in his eyes. Locking his jaw, he takes a moment before answering. Letting out a resounded sigh, he faces me. “Hop on.”

* * *

Slowing down on the opposite side of town, Drifter stops. Placing his foot out, he balances the bike.

Looking over his shoulder, the image from the picture comes into view, only it’s different… cascaded in darkness the four weeping willows that stand out against the others have formed together creating a tunnel along the dirt road.

An anxious panic grips me as I grab his shoulders, sliding off the bike.

I have been here before, I can feel it. I can even see it but I just can’t remember it. It’s like walking into a room and forgetting why you walked in there. You look around searching, hoping something reminds you. You stand there discouraged and annoyed because whatever brought you there hangs just out of reach. It’s hollowing and unnerving.

Looking to Drifter, I see him just sitting there staring ahead, not meeting my eyes. “I’ll be here.” His gruff declaration gives me assurance.

Looking back to the dirt road, I let the light from the motorcycle guide me forward. As if walking into a time capsule, visions flash before my eyes.

“Why are these trees different, daddy?” a little girl asks clinging to the leg of a man as they walk down the dirt road.

“I don’t know, sunshine.”

“Why not make them all the same then?” she asks as they stop in front of the trees.

“Because they are a symbol of home,” he answers looking down at the little girl.

Confused, she looks up to her dad not understanding.

Laughing at her reaction, he grabs her hand and guides her to one of the trees. Letting go, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife.

Watching in fascination, she stands there with her mouth hanging open as her dad carves a sun deep into the bark of the tree. Finishing the last line, he pockets his knife and picks the little girl up.

Reaching out she runs her fingers over the profound carving and a smile just as bright as the sun graces her face. “It’s a sun just like me!” she exclaims looking back to her dad in amazement.

“Yea, baby girl,” he answers, love pouring out of every word. “Every time you see this tree, you will know you are home.”

I gasp for breath, coming to reality. Breathe, fucking breathe...

The pain from the memory refuses to let me. Stumbling forward barely able to stay on my feet I press on. I have to know…

Tripping over myself I walk up to the one of the trees, the same one from my flashback. With a shaky hand I reach out. Running my fingers over the bark I search in the dark for the truth and nearly collapse when I feel it.

Oh God, it’s real.

Letting out a pained breath I step closer, my hand traces the shape. The light from the motorcycle only allows me to see a tiny bit of it…but it’s there. It’s really fucking there. Like a beacon, a sun rests suspended in time carved into the tree.

Home.

A choked sob escapes my lips. The sound of boots behind me causes me to turn. Such sadness shines in Drifter’s eyes as he looks back at me standing just a few feet away. So much hangs between us.

Unsure of what to say, I just let out what’s in my mind. “I don’t understand.”

“I know,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

“The Bar?” I ask. “The name?”

What does it all mean? Is it all connected?

Not saying anything, pain and turmoil flow through him.

“I’m not ready,” I continue, not really sure what it is I’m not ready for. To remember, to relive …. To forgive.

“I know,” he answers. His understanding comforts me at the same time it angers me.

Balling my fists, everything from today rushes through me. “Why am I here, Drifter?” I shout. Frustrated tears threaten to spill. “Why that picture? Why now?”

Unmoving and unfazed, he answers, “Because, Emmy, this is where you belong.” Stepping forward he reaches out for me and without hesitation, I go to him. Wrapping his arms around me he holds me like he’s trying to keep me together, like he can stop everything from tearing me apart. “No matter what my reason is, sweetheart, you belong here.”