“Are you the Lucky Luke?” A young blonde sidled up to me at the bar.

I fucking hated that stage name.

And after what happened with Molly a week ago I certainly wasn't feeling all that lucky.

I had just started my night drinking in this hole-in-the-wall dive bar attached to a crappy motel on the outskirts of town. Only regulars, truckers and those lost physically or mentally ever came here. I didn't think it even had a proper name.

I thought for sure I'd be able to drink in peace here.

“Nope.” I gulped down the last of the beer I’d been nursing for the past half hour and slid a hundred under my glass for the bartender. Her comment made this one more drinking spot where I couldn’t relax and be, so I got up and left the building. I wasn't even buzzed yet and I was already running out of shady bars to drink at.

How else was I going to dull the thoughts that circled through my mind like vultures picking at a fresh kill. Soon I'd be stuck inside my hotel room drinking.

How pathetic was that?

I walked over to my bike, sat on the seat and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of the breast pocket of my half-buttoned, black, linen shirt. Every time I sparked up I reminded myself how terrible the habit it was. I wanted to quit, but never really had any reason to.

Considering what some of my other band mates were hooked on, I'd say I got off easy.

Knock a girl up or lose my inheritance. That was fucking insane!

I couldn’t shake the conversation we had earlier. It had been on my mind almost as much as thoughts of how bad I fucked up with Molly.

I loved my Dad, but he must be losing his mind. I can't just slam a baby into some girl and be done with it. For all his faults, I didn’t think Richard couldn't either.

But what the fuck did I know?

Yeah, I slept around a lot when I was young, stupid and wrapped up in the rock and roll lifestyle, but I always used protection. Always. It wasn't just to keep my cock clean, but also so I wouldn't get a girl pregnant.

I actually loved kids; I just wasn’t ready to be a father yet.

I knew myself better than to think I could raise one alone. They were a big deal! That's one of the things that made a guy into a man. The other was finding and protecting the woman you loved.

And just like that I started thinking of Molly for the hundredth time today. I had a lot to atone for in our past; regardless of how much of it started out as my fault. The fact of the matter was that I wasn't there when she needed me, and that eats me alive every damn day.

After all this time I come back home only to fuck up with her again! Money, fame, the satisfaction of beating Richard out of his inheritance... I'd give it all for one more chance to do right by Molly.

I sucked in one last lungful of smoke, crushed the cigarette—still burning ember and all—in my fist, then started my bike. “Let’s see what the next town has for bars.”

I'd barely left the parking lot when I heard shouting. Fame had trained me to never turn around for shouts, it was just an opening for photographers to catch you in the worst light imaginable.

My band mates never let me live down the tabloid cover photo that caught me looking up, mid bite of shawarma with a headline that said something like, “Lucky Luke an Alien? Finally the Proof!”

It was pretty funny. They framed it and kept it in the studio while we recorded our last album together. God, that was years ago now...

No wonder, I thought, pulling out on to the main road. The shouts were coming from the parking lot of an MC clubhouse. If nothing else, bikers knew how to make noise.

I tried not to look; it was none of my business. Having a bike of my own was where our commonalities ended. But then I saw something that couldn't be ignored. The sun had only recently gone down, but exterior lights had already kicked on allowing me to see the couple arguing in the parking lot.

I saw him—this tall, bearded, monster in a sleeveless leather vest—slap a woman to the ground and instinct took over.

In that moment he could've been fifty feet tall and I still would've rushed him. I didn't care. You don't hit women.

Period.

The road was empty enough for me to stop where I was, put the kickstand down and run toward them. I was no hero; I never went looking for trouble like this, but some things I just couldn't ignore. Mix that with an impulsive nature to begin with and well... I made the news a lot.

Getting close, I jumped at the biker right as he turned to face me. One heavy right-cross was all it took. He fell straight and slow like a large maple tree that had just been chopped down.

The knuckles in my right hand ached. Fuck, that sonofabitch had a hard head.

“Are you alright, Miss?” I dropped to a knee and wrapped my good arm around the brunette to help her up.

“I think so,” she said, picking up her glasses and letting me guide her to her feet.

Something on her wrist twinkled in the shitty parking lot light. A small, faded metal, heart pendant hung from her bracelet. My own heart skipped a beat and my breathing stopped being automatic.

“Molly?” I said in disbelief.

I gave her that for her seventeenth birthday. They were part of a matching set, and had the word forever inscribed on the back. I swallowed hard to avoid choking on my own tongue. She was still wearing it...

Did that mean she still cared about me?

“Luke?!” She said in hushed shout, then glanced around the parking lot. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing. The hell are you doing at a biker clubhouse? Are you out of your mind? And who the fuck is this prick?”

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.” Molly panicked. “Do you have any idea what you just did?!”

“Not nearly enough.” A renewed rage washed over me when I looked down at the unconscious behemoth. Slapping a woman was bad enough, but hitting MY woman… made me want to stomp his head in with my boots until my legs got tired.

How dare he touch her?

“That was the Black Chains sergeant at arms.” Molly began to push back toward my bike. “You need to get out of here right now!”

“How bad could a biker gang based out of sleepy little Caldwell Hope be?”

Molly lifted the back of the bikers vest revealing a holstered pistol on the small of his back, then she flashed me a hard look and said, “Bad enough.”

She jolted away as the biker began to stir. He'd be awake soon.

“Please go, Luke.” Her eyes pleaded with me. She was worried for my safety. She said she had moved on, but that wasn't the look you gave to someone you didn't care about.

She hadn’t moved on. She still cared about me.

“I can't.” My hand touched her cheek; it was red and hot from where he slapped her. I drew my lips in a tight line and looked at her firmly, unshakably. “Not without you.”

A dangerous cocktail of emotions and panic flashed in her beautiful brown eyes. I wish I knew what was going on inside her head. There were so many things I wanted to tell her, but this wasn't the time or place for that.

She was right, soon other armed men would be on us. I only had the time to tell her one thing and I didn't even need words to say it.

I won't ever leave you again.

“Ok, fine. Let's go.” She held out her hand. I grabbed it and led her toward my bike. “You can't take me home. That's the first place Cannonball will look. I need to go somewhere until he sobers up.”

“Don't worry I know a place that they'll never be able to follow us to.” I helped her onto the back of the bike. “Cannonball? Really?”

“No one gets to pick their club names.” Molly strapped on my helmet with an alarming amount of practiced skill. What was the story here? Molly was a librarian at an elementary school, what the hell was she doing hanging out with guys who had pirate nicknames? “And don't get any ideas. I still hate you for what you did.”

“Yeah, I do too.” I let out the clutch, kicked the bike into gear and sped us out to the one place I knew she'd be safe.

It was also the one place I was expressly forbidden from going.