A lone car cruised in front of the townhouse. Rich stood in the living room, in the dark, and stared out into the night. No one would be after him tonight.

Cross was gone.

Buried six feet under in an undisclosed location only Notus could pinpoint, Cross's murder went as planned, raising no one's attention. They'd left the abandoned house exactly like it was found.

The only changes came from those in attendance. He closed his eyes. He'd let the others down tonight.

Cross was his responsibility, and he'd failed. His weakness gripped him tight, and he couldn't pull himself out in time to recover and do the job.

None of them said a word. They picked up where he'd failed, and saved his life. He gave them no excuses, no explanation, no bullshit because they never asked. They'd accepted him without question.

They'd never understand that there was a fine line he couldn't cross. Not with Wayne, Thad, Glen, and Chuck in his life.

He'd been there before.

He couldn't trust himself.

For all his good intentions, he walked into the situation planning to take responsibility for what he brought down on himself and Notus Motorcycle Club.

In the end, he couldn't take the chance. As soon as his vision had narrowed outside Cross's house, it had taken everything in him to remain in control.

The members of Notus Motorcycle Club rode with a purpose to find missing persons. He opened his eyes. They provided vigilante justice to those who harmed women and children without punishment. Sadness washed over him and regret hit him hard.

As much as he wished he could change history, go back to the time before Thalia was murdered, he couldn't.

He looked at his motorcycle parked at the edge of the driveway. His pulse accelerated. He could forget everything. Thalia. His past. Notus. Cross. Gracie.

All he had to do was walk upstairs into the bedroom where he'd placed his duffle bag and drown himself in the whiskey he'd lifted from Vavoom's Bar.

A door clicked open in the house. He half-turned and peered into the darkness. Gracie walked down the stairs without turning on the light, her hand trailed the wall feeling the way, and she turned the corner into the hallway. A few seconds later, the door to the garage opened.

His exhale filled the room. She didn't trust him to lock up the house.

Not wanting to scare her more, he stayed by the window. Now that he understood the reason for her habits, he'd make sure she felt free to double check her locks and have screws in every window. She fucking deserved to have a place where she felt safe.

The door closed at the other end of the townhouse. Gracie stepped around the wall and stopped. Rich let out the breath he hadn't realized he held. He'd tried to avoid her since disposing of Cross. She was too innocent, too vulnerable, too good to be around the likes of him.

Gracie walked toward the front door. There was no hesitation in her movements. She hadn't seen him.

She unlocked the door and then relocked it. All three locks.

He couldn't get it out of his mind that if Thalia had lived, she would be relocking the door numerous times and trying to convince herself that it was safe to go to sleep. She'd be wearing a purse from the moment she woke up in the morning until she closed her eyes at night. She'd be scared of every man. Of him.

He said Gracie's name before he realized he spoke. Her soft gasp softened him. Who did she have in her life to protect her? She had a connection with every Notus member, but they all had their own woman.

Just as he wouldn't have turned his back on Thalia had she survived, he couldn't turn his back on Gracie.

"Come here," he whispered, the words tearing out of this throat.

She walked across the room and stood in front of him. He had no idea what he wanted or what he planned, only that he wanted her near.

Whether it was the way she gazed up at him, vulnerable and afraid, or brave and tempting, her upper body tilted toward him. It was that complicated mindset that came from a hard life that he understood.

Afraid of scaring her away, he lowered his head, watching her for any sign that she wanted to retreat. It seemed like it took forever for him to span the two feet separating them.

And, still, he stopped before his lips touched hers. "I always do the wrong thing," he whispered.

The air in the room went heavy as she blinked full lashes and stayed silent. He could sense her rapid pulse as she fought an inner war.

"I've heard about you...from Notus members...for the last four years." She moistened her lips, dropping her gaze from his eyes to his mouth. "I feel like I know you. I don't...not really..." She closed her mouth, and he heard her gulp. "But, I feel like I do, and that scares me. I should be more careful."

"I won't hurt you."

He said the words knowing he lied. Gracie expected him to be a member of Notus. She'd hurt when he left again.

"I think, I know that," she whispered.

"Do you?" If she understood how he'd lived, what he'd done, the things that he'd seen, she wouldn't have the confidence in him.

"Yes," she whispered again.

He had no right to ask anything of her. She deserved someone who would see what she needed before asking. Yet, she gave him her trust, which he didn't earn.

He inhaled too fast and exhaled too heavily as the numbness faded and he began to ache, taking in everything about her. Her eyes begged him to go gentle, and he wasn't sure he had anything gentle to give her. He only had what was standing in front of him. Those beautiful eyes, breathing life into him, making him feel.

He was only a few inches away from her mouth, watching her eyes focus on him. "You're not scared?"

She barely shook her head, but it was enough. Her lips parted, and he placed his mouth on her. At first, she stiffened at the contact, and he remained still, lightening the pressure. A sigh escaped her.

He took his time.

It was his one chance to have something beautiful in his life, and he was afraid of making what they had together dirty and too selfish to be cautious.

He opened his mouth, his tongue slid gently inside, and he relaxed when she met him halfway. There were many things he craved in life. Whiskey. Women. Tobacco. Solitude. Revenge. But that first sweet taste of Gracie encompassed him completely.

Gracie's hands sprawled on his stomach. A rough moan came from his throat, and he took the kiss deeper. He wanted her hands on his skin, not through his shirt.

Her body stiffened, and she pulled away. He held still, letting her go.

She closed her eyes. "I...can't..."

In the dark, the pain etched on her face shattered him. He thought going slowly with her would make her see he wasn't going to hurt her.

His cock pulsed. He should walk away, but he couldn't make himself leave her. "You can't what, honey?"