Lorna wiped her eyes and Billie felt her heart squeeze. This woman was utterly repentant, but she would never be able to forgive herself. And her son, the impenetrable Travis Sinclair, housed so much hurt and anger inside him, he’d never be able to live a full life either.

It was overwhelmingly sad. Billie wished there were something she could do to help both of them. Lorna was right—she was worried about her business, but in the end, her business and the gallery were only things, whereas Lorna and Travis were real people. Whether or not she should, Billie cared about them.

“I’ll do my best,” she couldn’t help promising. Although she guessed she probably didn’t have any more influence over Travis than Lorna did, she couldn’t let these two broken people go on as they were without at least trying to help.

“Thank you.” Lorna’s words were barely more than a whisper, but her gratitude was written all over her face.

—

Billie marched back into the gallery, her stomach a maelstrom of emotions—the anger that had filled her when Travis stormed out that morning had vanished, leaving in its wake anxiety and compassion. What would things be like between her and Travis now? She needed somehow to calm the waters without alerting him to the fact that she knew about his past. It didn’t take a PhD to know that he wouldn’t like that she’d been talking to Lorna about him. She hoped to gain his trust somehow and make him feel comfortable enough to tell her his whole story himself.

“Hey, Rolley,” she said as she approached her artist friend. His brow was furrowed and his tongue sticking out, indicating he was deeply engrossed in his current piece, but he looked up and grinned at her.

“Hello, my sweet. Did you do what you needed to do?”

“Yep. Thanks.” After Lorna and Travis had vacated the gallery, Billie had called Rolley and asked if he’d mind coming in and watching over everything for a couple of hours. Of course he’d obliged, and she felt a smidgen of guilt knowing he’d done so because he had a thing for her. But she didn’t have the time, or energy, to worry about that now.

Baxter trotted into the house and Billie glanced after him. “Have you seen Travis?”

Rolley glowered. “Yep. He came in about an hour ago, glared at me, went inside, grabbed his bag and then left. He was wearing biker gear and looked like he was ready to kill someone. Good riddance and all that.”

Billie’s heart clenched. “His bag?”

Rolley smiled as he nodded. “Guess we’ve seen the last of him.”

What only yesterday morning would have been good news now made her insides twist and a cold sweat erupt on her palms.

“You okay?” Rolley asked, looking at her strangely. “I thought you’d be happy about this.”

“I am,” she lied quickly. Then, “You okay out here for a few moments? I have a couple of things I need to do inside.”

“Sure.” He grinned happily and waved his hand telling her to go, before turning back to focus on his art.

Billie hurried inside after Baxter and found him a few moments later sitting on the floor in Travis’s room, looking up glumly at the bed where Billie had watched him sprawled in apparent slumber only a few days earlier. An illicit thrill shot through her body, leaving goose bumps on her skin at that recollection, but then she saw that Rolley was right. Travis had taken his bag. He’d even made the damned bed. She sniffed, trying to catch the scent of him, hoping it lingered in the air, but there was nothing. It was as if he’d never been here in the first place.

He’d really gone. Her knees trembled and she slumped down on the bed before they failed her. How could this feel like such a calamity—as if she’d lost both her legs, rather than just an unwanted houseguest—when she’d only known him a couple of days? Had he merely left her or had he left town? He wouldn’t have gone after Lorna, would he? But even worse than that possibility was the thought of never seeing him again, of never having his hands on her body making her feel things she hadn’t thought possible. No! She sat bolt upright. She couldn’t just let him walk out of her life like that. Quite aside from the fact that she wanted him again badly, he needed her just as much. Even if he didn’t know it.

Scrambling off the bed, she hurried out of the bedroom, down the corridor and into the courtyard, Baxter struggling to keep up.

“Back in five,” she called to Rolley, holding up all the fingers on one hand as she ran out onto Bourbon Street, almost took out a woman strolling past, apologized and then headed for The Priory. Last time she’d stepped foot inside this building, her heart had been filled with anxiety and anger over Travis and possible eviction, and now it was racing with another kind of trepidation. What would she do if he wasn’t here?

Oblivious to the people drinking and enjoying late lunches, Billie rushed inside, not caring when Baxter followed her. She headed straight for the bar and breathed a tiny sigh of relief when she saw Sophie without her scary boyfriend.

“Hey,” Sophie said, looking up from the magazine she was flicking through. “What can I get you?”

“Is Travis here?”

For a second Sophie looked confused and then said, “Oh, right, Cash. No.” She shook her head as a slow smile appeared on her lips. “He’s gone for a ride with the others. Is something going on with you two?”

Billie was helpless to stop her cheeks from flushing. They burned as if she’d dipped her face in an open fire. “No,” she squeaked.

Sophie laughed. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless liar?”

Billie sighed and eyed the bottles of hard liquor lined up behind the bar. For the first time in her life—she’d never been much of a drinker—she felt like she could do with a shot of something potent.

As if she were a mind reader, Sophie turned around and fixed Billie a drink. She slapped it down on the bar in front of her. “It’s on the house. Truthfully, I didn’t think Cash was your type.”

Billie took a large gulp of the drink, wincing as it burned her throat going down. “Neither did I,” she admitted, although now that she’d been with Travis she honestly couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else. What a goddamn mess. She’d come here to heal her heart, to find herself, not fall for a tortured bad boy.

“Can I give you a bit of advice?” Sophie asked, cocking her head to one side and eyeing Billie as if she were a strange exhibit in the zoo.

“Please do.”

“Run. I predict the shit is going to hit the fan around here soon and it’s going to get ugly, if not deadly.”

“Because of your dad?”

Sophie looked surprised. “He told you?”

Billie nodded, although technically she’d initially got her information by eavesdropping and Travis had shut her down in the shower when she’d asked questions. Oh…A wave of heat flooded through her at the recollection of the shower.

“Well, either he’s lost his head out in the big bad world or you’re something special to him, because bikers don’t generally talk to their bitches about this kind of shit.”

“So, run?” Billie asked, realizing she desperately wanted to mean something to Travis, no matter the consequences. “Is there another option?”

Sophie raised an eyebrow. “You want Cash? Then you give as good as he does. He’ll probably try to push you away, but being a biker’s old lady is a powerful thing. You need to earn that respect, that position.”

“Old lady?” Billie dared to ask. She’d heard the term before of course, but Sophie saying it made it real. Was that what she wanted? Hell, three days ago she’d been spouting about never being shackled to a man again, and here she was considering getting serious with her scary-ass landlord. Maybe she truly had lost her mind, the great sex messing with her common sense.

“Yes. If you’re not from our world, it’s hard to understand, but it’s not a derogatory term. Anything but, in fact. When you’re a brother’s old lady, his property, you’re important not just to him but to the club.”