He wore those memories like a shield as he walked into the crowded bar. A dozen or so guys wearing black leather vests with Dark Knights motorcycle club patches on the back eyed him skeptically, just as they’d done every other time he’d been there. At six three, pushing two hundred and thirty pounds, he stood out, but he stood out less with big guys like them around, and that suited him just fine. He kept his eyes trained on the bar as he made his way through the crowd, but a sultry voice drew his attention to the stage, where the gorgeous mahogany-haired chick who had been tossing him flirtatious looks for weeks sat on a stool playing guitar and singing. He’d seen her perform a few times. She sang stories, not songs, and she looked hot as sin in a black miniskirt and gold-and-black strappy top that bared her stomach. One black leather boot was propped on the foot ring of the stool. The other tapped the floor as she played, and a taunting smile graced the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen. Those plump lips had fucked with his head since the first time he’d walked into the bar and had seen her watching him, but it was her curious, and somehow also challenging, sky-blue eyes tracking his every step that stirred a primal desire he’d kept locked down for years.

And that was exactly where it was going to stay.

He tore his gaze away and stepped up to the bar. The hot strawberry-blond bartender, who looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, offered a warm smile, nudging her tortoiseshell glasses to the bridge of her nose. “Haven’t seen you in a few days. What can I get you, darlin’?”

Her warm demeanor was comforting, which was another reason he liked being there. She reminded him of his mother, whom he’d lost when he was thirteen and whose absence felt even more pronounced without his sister, Carrie, chattering in his ear. “Beer’s good. Whatever’s on tap. Thanks.”

“Comin’ right up.”

As she got his drink, he watched Blue Eyes onstage. Her glossy hair hung past her shoulders, brushing the edge of her guitar, which looked too big for her petite frame. He listened a little more closely to the words she sang.

“I hate the feeling of just lying in bed

With my stomach so heavy it feels like I’m falling to my death

Too complicated to just give it a rest…”

Her voice was a captivating mix of huskiness and silk, but damn, that story was dark. Could such a pretty thing feel that way, too, or was she just making shit up for entertainment purposes?

“Here you go.” The bartender set his drink down in front of him and glanced at the girl onstage with admiration. “God, she’s good.”