Getting to El Paso had been the easy part. It was only four hours past Tucson, and I’d arrived while the sun was still shining above.

The hard part was finding what I was looking for…

It would have been effortless to head straight up to the local authorities and request information on the Devil’s Dragons, but that could have gotten messy. I was out of my jurisdiction and my lieutenant would quickly learn that I was asking questions in the wrong city… and that was a conversation I was intent on pushing back as far as I could.

That left the slower option: relying on my wits and hitting the streets.

I put my honed skills to work, following Sergeant Thompson’s guidance as I dug up what I could on the renegade club. The locals weren’t too eager to answer the questions of a detective, which made me wonder why they were protecting the club…

But I got what I needed.

I always did.

It was dark outside by the time my unmarked car crunched gravel in front of the old bar on the edge of the city. My knuckles went white around the steering wheel as I took a few deep breaths.

This was their base.

Hunter might be in there.

The last time I’d seen him, things had gone sideways. I’d lost my lover. My father had been wounded. People had been arrested… and others had died. I’d spent years trying to free myself of the guilt. As it turned out, the raid wasn’t spontaneous. The sheriff’s department had been planning to take down the Dragons for months before that fateful morning. The assets were in place long before my father discovered me missing… Before he checked the GPS tracking app he’d installed on my phone.

I wasn’t the reason the raid happened… The Devils had sealed their fate when they started trafficking drugs up from the border.

My presence there with Hunter did nothing except speed up the inevitable.

I stepped out of the car – a Crown Vic, just like my father’s. The police lights were tucked away behind the grill instead of planted on the roof for all to see, but under all that white paint she was all business. Patting the hood affectionately, I gave the Interceptor engine a silent moment of gratitude for bringing me this far.

My life changed that fateful morning…

Fitting, perhaps, that it was clearly going to change again tonight.

At least this time, I could see it coming.

Silence fell the moment I stepped into the bar. An endless sea of eyes glared at me from bar tops, pool tables, and the countertop straight ahead. All of them belonged to rugged, weathered bikers or the slutty women of all ages that had given them company.

I marched straight to a free chair at the bar, ignoring how the patrons parted menacingly, closing off behind me as I took my seat.

“Whiskey sour, please,” I asked the bartender. She was a fiery little redhead, frozen in the middle of wiping a grimy glass as she glared daggers my way.

With narrowing eyes and not a syllable uttered, the bartender placed the dirty tumbler down and went straight for the bottom-shelf shit. For the garnish, she made a big show of spitting in the drink before sliding it my way.

“What the hell is this?” I snarled.

The redhead flattened her palms on the bar, leaning forward to grin wickedly: “We don’t serve your kind here.” To punctuate the point, she jabbed a thumb towards the window, and the parked Crown Vic outside.

I rose from my chair, preparing to retort, when a smooth voice called out from behind: “…Elmira. That’s no way to treat our guest, is it?”

The bartender froze again, glancing over my shoulder. Similarly, I stiffened up, locking onto the redhead’s eyes as she glanced my way with a mixture of equal parts confusion and irritation.

I knew that voice.

That was the voice that had haunted my dreams for eight years…

“Give her the Van Wrinkle and the Green Spot this time, Elmira. Use one of the clean glasses… and try to not spit in it.”

“Jack Daniels is fine,” I retorted, unwilling to take my eyes off of her own. The last time I’d seen this man I’d frozen in panic… Now that we were finally in the same room again, it was the same old song and dance…

“Jack in a whiskey sour? You always liked it a little rough, didn’t you?” I felt his breath near my ear, and a shiver slipped down my spine.

“Some things never change,” I murmured.

“True…” he chuckled, placing a strong, steady hand on my hip. God, I missed that. “But some things change for the better…”

Hunter spun me around in the stool, forcing me to face him. His piercing blue eyes drilled straight into my soul.

He was right – he had changed for the better.

Hunter was built even bigger now, his refined, sculpted physique imposing above me. Another inch of height added to his impressive frame, and broad, powerful shoulders filled my vision, sucking the breath straight from my lungs.

The ripped, worn shirt exposed his tremendous biceps, including the dragon tattoo that snaked authoritatively down one arm.

His expression was harder as well. A short layer of stubble cast a shadow across the hard edges of his chiseled face, and a thin scar glided from his temple down across his cheek.

For a fraction of a moment, I nearly caress the scar out of some place of loving concern… but I pause my hand halfway towards his face.

“That’s a story for another time,” Hunter laughed, knowing me so well even after all these years.

My face flushes red, and I feel heat rising from my core. Embarrassed, and all too eager to hide my developing arousal, I cast my eyes down to his chest. They land on the emblazoned patch above his heart, threaded into the leather – the emblem of the Devil’s Dragons MC.

But there was something else here. A single word that changed everything… President.

I’m in deep shit…

Elmira slid the drink my way. Hunter and I had been so focused on each other that, for all we know, she could have pissed all over that drink right in front of us and I wouldn’t have known it.

“Hello, Hunter,” I murmured softly.

“Hello, Sarah,” he replied with a smile.

In that second, I sensed a change in the atmosphere of the entire bar. With the exception of the bartender, the entire crowd visibly relaxed.

Did… did they know about me?

“Can’t help but notice that you’ve joined the force, just like Daddy,” Hunter tilted his head lightly. “That might just be the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. From bad girl to good girl… Tell me, Officer… how can I be of some service?”

“Not officer,” I replied. “Detective.”

“Detective?” His eyebrows rose, and a soft smile slid across his face again. “Well now… you’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try,” I grinned back.

Hunter lifted his chin, his eyes still locked onto mine. His voice rose to fill the room: “Ladies and gentlemen of the Devil’s Dragons, I would like to introduce a dear, old friend of mine… Detective Sarah Buchanan.”

Murmurs drifted among the crowd. It was clear to me that most of them had heard my name before, and that made things rather interesting. Apparently, Hunter hadn’t quite gotten over me either…

“Sarah here is a welcomed guest of the club,” Hunter continued. “Any preconceived notions of a detective among us come to a stop now. Am I perfectly clear?”

Glasses raised everywhere. Even Elmira begrudgingly lifted a beer, her eyes still shooting daggers my way.

“Perfect. Now then, I believe my associate and I have some… catching up to do. If you’ll excuse us.” He turned to Elmira quickly. “Oh, and to celebrate… I’m buying the full house a drink. The next round’s on me.”

The room erupted in a cheer as he led me by the arm through the crowd, drink in my hand. With the quiet exception of the redhead behind the bar, there wasn’t a dissenting voice in the entire bar.

His word was law.

If I was his guest, I was welcomed here.

He thinks that I’m the one full of surprises… but what the hell happened? The Hunter I remember was a young upstart in an established motorcycle club… Now he’s calling the shots.

Hunter and I stepped outside into the brisk El Paso night, and the merriment quieted as the bar door closed. While I took a swig, I glanced over at the unmarked Crown Vic wishing it was a bit more inconspicuous. Maybe I’d get it some old lady hub caps to hide the exposed steel wheels…

“Can we go somewhere more private?” I asked.

“I was thinking my place, once you’re done with that,” Hunter grinned. “The club’s going to want answers soon on why there’s a member of the force in our midst… they’re nice and liquored up tonight. Hopefully not too liquored up, since we’re always on call for a job… But there’ll be questions in the morning. Lots of questions.”

I nodded, kicking back another swig. The whiskey sour certainly didn’t taste like it had been desecrated, and for that, I was thankful.

“I have questions too,” I replied. “I’m not here for pleasure… there’s some business to attend to.”

“Well, Detective…” Hunter chuckled, taking a step towards me. I could practically feel the same youthful, hungry energy crackling between us… just as it had eight years ago. “Finish up your drink and follow me. I’m not far from here…”

I glanced down at the whiskey sour.

“Are you asking me to drink and drive?”

He smiled mischievously. “Last I checked, you weren’t the kind of girl who got tipsy on a couple sips. I’ve seen you drink three hundred pound bikers under the table… I’m asking you to accept my hospitality. It beats the hell out of sticking around here, especially with my bartender’s… fragile sentiments towards you.”

I realized that I hadn’t paid for the drink, and turned back towards the door. With the motion, my gaze turned inside, and I could spot the bartender glaring at us over the drinks she was pouring.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his hand grasping my arm. “It’s on the house, remember? Just finish that up and let’s hit the road. I’m not far…”