The roar of a powerful engine drew everyone’s attention on that fine spring day in Fallen Creek, Wyoming. The town was way off the beaten track, so visitors were rare, and no one remembered any other citizen from the area having a car that sounded like that.

Windows rattled and people stopped what they were doing to watch the big motorcycle rumble down Main Street. The rider was hidden behind a black helmet and leathers. One concerned townsperson called the sheriff, alerting him to the invasion of their town, like he hadn’t heard the noise.

By the time the bike stopped in front of The Watering Hole, Fallen Creek’s most popular bar, the sheriff was there, waiting. He studied the man, who climbed off the bike and stretched. He spied the small wince as the stranger removed his helmet.

“I should’ve known there’d be a welcoming committee at some point,” the blond man drawled as he nodded toward the sheriff.

“We don’t get many visitors, son, and it’s not like you snuck in or anything like that. Your bike there could wake up the dead around here.” Sheriff Carter gestured in the direction of the Harley.

“True. It’s better to get this over with right away, anyway. Instead of letting it fester until you arrest me for something stupid.” The man set his helmet on the seat before stripping off his leather jacket.

Again, Carter noticed a grimace of pain, and he wondered what kind of injuries the newest arrival to Fallen Creek had and how he’d gotten them. He straightened from where he leaned against his truck when the man approached.

“Here’s my wallet. It’s got my license in it, and I’m sure you’ll want to run it. My name is Nash Rhodes, and while I got into some trouble a while back, I’m not going to cause any around here.” Nash held out a black leather wallet that looked hand-tooled and had a skull etched into it.

Carter took it and glanced at the skull. He’d seen something like that before but couldn’t remember where. It would come to him eventually. He flipped open the wallet, ignored the large wad of money it held, and looked at Rhodes’ license.

His name was Nashville Rocky Rhodes. Carter winced. “Hell of a name to saddle a kid with,” he commented.

“Mom has a wicked sense of humor,” Nash said, sounding like it was something he was used to talking about.

“I guess so.”

Rhodes was from Nashville, Tennessee, and had hit his thirty-second birthday a week ago. Reading Nashville jarred another hidden memory, and Carter knew he’d be heading back to the office to find out why. It might have something to do with the police reports he’d been going over earlier that morning.

“You’re a long way from home, Rhodes.”

Carter handed back the wallet and propped his hands on his hips. Nash stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. He held himself stiffly, making Carter wonder if Nash expected trouble, or if he was in pain.

“Yes, sir. Heading out to Santa Monica. My mom lives out there, and I decided to take a road trip to visit her.”

Nash pressed his hand against his left ribs, and the sheriff determined that was one injury, but he had the feeling there were others. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out Nash was only a week or two out of the hospital.

“And you aren’t planning on causing any problems while you’re here?” Carter asked.

Nash’s laugh was cut short, and he braced his hand on Carter’s truck. “Do your best to trust me, Sheriff Carter. I don’t plan on doing anything except relaxing and resting for a week or two before I continue on. I thought I’d be able to basically drive straight through, but all those months in the hospital drained my reserves, I guess.”

“What were you doing in the hospital?”

Shaking his head, Nash smiled. “You can find out on your own, Sheriff. I’m going to go get a drink and something to eat. After which, I’m going to find a room to crash in for a while.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Did your doctors talk to you about taking it easy for a while? Seems like you’ve had some rough times lately.” Carter studied Nash, seeing the flash of annoyance in the man’s eyes.

Nash stood straight and held out his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Sheriff. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around town.”

They shook hands, and Carter watched the man stroll into The Watering Hole. After the door shut behind him, the sheriff climbed into his truck and headed back to his office.

Nash walked away from the window, where he’d been making sure the sheriff was leaving. Once he was gone, Nash went to the bar and sat, leaning his elbows on the bar top and taking a deep breath.

“What’s your poison?”

He looked up to see a tall redhead smiling at him. She was around fifty, and there was something about her that reminded him of his mother.

“I’d like a beer and a glass of water, please.”

With the medication he was on, he probably shouldn’t be drinking, but one beer shouldn’t cause a problem. He didn’t plan on driving any time soon. He needed to rest because every part of his body ached.

His doctors had protested his leaving, but he’d needed to get out of Nashville before he got sucked back into the club. After they’d released him from the hospital, he’d taken a few minutes to throw some clothes into his saddlebags, then he’d taken off. He didn’t want to see anyone from the club until he’d straightened out his path. Two hours out of Nashville and he’d known it wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had.

“You look like ten miles of bad road, mister.” She set the glasses in front of him and smiled. “Are you sure you should be out and about?”

Nash chuckled. “Probably not, ma’am, but I’ve never been good at listening to authority figures.”

“You remind me of several guys I’ve known, and none of them took orders well either. I’m Jeanette and I own this place.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am. It’s a nice place.” Nash glanced around, finishing his glass of water in a few gulps.

He was telling the truth. The Watering Hole might have been a bar, but it wasn’t a dive like some of the places Nash had hung out at in Nashville. Those businesses were dark and smelled of sweat, smoke and fear. Jeanette’s place was airy and gave off a feeling of welcome, like he could spend several hours there without worrying about catching some kind of disease.

“Thanks. It serves its purpose.” She nodded at the beer. “Flag me down if you want another.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He sipped the beer and sighed. It wasn’t his drink of choice, but he’d learned the hard way that whiskey did bad things to his judgment. So he’d stick to beer and maybe manage to keep out of trouble for a while.

Nash was working on finishing his beer when the door slammed open and a man almost fell into the bar, catching himself at the last moment. He braced his hand against the doorframe and stared over at Jeanette, his bleary eyes trying to focus.

“Well, it’s about time you showed up, you no-good, drunken idiot.” Jeanette propped her hands on her hips and glared at the stranger.

“Shut up, woman. I’m here now.”

Nash turned and leaned his elbows on the bar, watching as the man staggered across the floor to a stool. He collapsed onto it and rested his head on his hands.

“Why don’t you get me some food and water, woman? Instead of harping at me all the time.”

Jeanette huffed and, with anger and finality clear in her voice, she said, “You’re done, Clay. I told you the last time this happened, I wasn’t dealing with your drunkenness and your rude-ass attitude. I’m running a business here, and you not showing up for work doesn’t help me.”

“Shut up, bitch. You’re not going to fire me. There isn’t anyone else to do the work, and Robinson won’t be happy if you let me go,” Clay growled at Jeanette.

“Maybe I’ll have to work twenty-four-seven, but you know what? I’d rather work myself into the grave than deal with you any longer. Get out of here, Clay, and I don’t want to see you in here until you’ve dealt with your problems.”

Nash tensed as Jeanette came around the bar and approached Clay. He could tell the man wasn’t going to go without a fight, and Nash couldn’t let Jeanette bear the brunt of the man’s anger. Pushing to his feet, he knew he was going to regret his chivalry, but his mom hadn’t raised him to ignore a damsel in distress.

Before he could say anything, Jeanette reached out to grab Clay’s arm, and Clay swung around, backhanding her. Nash rushed across the floor and caught the man’s wrist as he was swinging again.

Jeanette touched the red mark on her cheek and snarled, “I’m calling Carter and telling him to throw your ass in jail, Clay. Being Robinson’s brother isn’t going to get you out of this. I won’t tolerate being hit.”

“Try it,” Nash warned Clay when he struggled to get free. “I’ll let a lot of things slide, but laying hands on a woman isn’t one of them.”

“Fuck you, asshole. Do you know who I am?”

Clay’s spittle hit Nash in the face, and he grimaced. Christ, the man smelled like he’d been on a week-long binge without showering. Nash looked over at Jeanette.

“Where do you want me to put him until the sheriff comes?”

Jeanette motioned for him to let Clay go. “He’s drunker than a skunk, honey. He won’t be any trouble, no matter how badass he thinks he is. Just keep an eye on him for me.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

Nash let go of Clay, shoving him a little. He grinned as Clay pin-wheeled his arms to keep from falling over. Folding his arms over his chest, Nash spread his legs slightly and waited.

He’d been around men like Clay all his life and he knew the drunk wouldn’t let a slight to his manhood go. Little did Clay know that Nash had been the sergeant-at-arms for his club and had dealt with men far bigger than Clay.

Of course, he regretted everything he’d done as the enforcer for the gang, and he no longer got any enjoyment out of fighting or hurting others. Still, he wasn’t going to let Clay disrespect Jeanette again.

Clay telegraphed his punch and Nash easily dodged it. He threw his first punch, pulling his power somewhat. He felt the bones of Clay’s nose crunch under his knuckles. Clay’s head snapped back and blood splattered over their shirts and the floor.

Surprise slowed him down a little when Clay shook off the blow and came after him again. Most of the men Nash had hit like that would’ve been down for the count, and he hadn’t hit the man with all his power.

“Clay Turner, you stop right there. Don’t you go after that man,” Jeanette yelled from behind the bar.

“Fuck you, Jeanette, and fuck this asshole. Who does he think he is? Hitting me and thinking he won’t get his ass handed to him.”

Clay dove at him, and Nash went down, hitting his head on the floor. As he shook off the stars, Clay nailed him in the ribs. Pain shot through Nash and he roared, putting his hands in the middle of Clay’s chest and throwing the man halfway across the room.

“Who taught you manners? You don’t talk to a lady like that,” Nash yelled as he came to his feet.

“Jeanette ain’t a lady. She’s just some bitch who thinks she’s better than other people.” Clay spat in Jeanette’s direction.

While Clay was distracted, Nash raced forward and wrapped his hand around Clay’s throat. He tightened his grip, lifting the man off the floor and shaking him.

“She is better than you, that’s for sure. Now apologize to her before I rip your head from your shoulders. I’ve fucking reached the end of my patience.” Nash bared his teeth at Clay.

Nash almost dropped the man when Clay went limp. Had Clay passed out or something? Nash checked, and Clay peered down at him with a rather submissive expression on his face. He gave the drunk another hard shake before setting him on his feet.

“What do you want me to do with him, Jeanette?” He didn’t take his gaze off Clay. He didn’t trust the sudden change of attitude from the man.

“Clay, sit your ass at that table and stay there. Carter’s on his way to get you.”

“Ah, Jeanette, you know I didn’t mean anything by it. I’d never hurt you,” Clay whined.

Nash snorted, while Jeanette rolled her eyes.

“I’ve heard that lie too many times, and not just from you, Clay. I’m done with your attitude and your drinking.” Jeanette waved Nash back to the bar. “I owe you another drink, son.”

He took a breath and his entire body screamed from the pain. He ground his teeth together to keep from yelling. Nash grabbed the edge of the bar, gripping it so tight he thought he might break it.

Jeanette stared at him, worry clear in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything. He was glad about that. No point in letting Clay know Nash was injured.

“I’ll take a rain check on the drink, Jeanette, though I’d love a glass of water.” Nash turned his back to Clay and dug his bottle of painkillers out of his jacket pocket. He shook one out, popping it into his mouth before putting the medicine back.

“Here you go. Why don’t you sit? I’d like to talk to you about taking Clay’s job.” Jeanette set the glass in front of Nash.

He picked it up and swallowed the pill, along with some water. After finishing, he handed the cup to her.

“I’m not staying here long. Just taking a break for a while, then I’ll be moving on,” he warned her.

“That’s all right. I can probably find someone to take your place when you’re ready to leave. I just don’t have time to find anyone who’ll stand up to Robinson at the moment.” Jeanette shook her head. “Bastard’s got the entire town scared.”

“Even the sheriff?”

Carter hadn’t struck Nash as being a guy who backed down from bullies, but he was new in town, so what the hell did he know?

“Carter tries, but with no one to back him, it’s a little difficult to get anything done.” Jeanette folded her arms over her ample bosom and glared at Clay. “Robinson and that pack he runs with have been ruling things for a while here.”

Nash snorted. He knew all about gangs. Most tended to be full of bullies trying to gain power through hurting those weaker than them. For most of his life, he’d been one of them, but his time in the hospital had got him thinking about where his life was headed.

“I can’t give you any references,” he admitted. “There are a lot of people back home I don’t want to know where I am.”

“Fine with me.” Jeanette didn’t seem concerned about his past.

“And I’ll be honest with you because I know the sheriff will probably be telling you all about it soon enough, especially when he finds out you hired me. I’ve been in and out of jail since I was sixteen. Mostly assault charges. I’ve never stolen from anyone and I don’t plan on doing it now.” Nash rubbed his fingers over the letters etched into the top of the bar.

He could feel Jeanette studying him. He’d done everything he could think of to erase any clue to his having been in a motorcycle club. His cuts were stuffed in his saddlebags, and he didn’t plan to wear them anymore. The leathers he wore were plain black, without any sign of what club he’d been affiliated with. It would keep him from getting his ass handed to him while he traveled.

“You were part of the inner circle?”

Startled, he tensed. “What makes you think I was part of a club?”

“You weren’t just part of a club. I’m betting you were in a trusted position.” Jeanette flashed a small grin. “I’ve seen a lot of bikers come and go over the years. You’ve got the look of being in charge. No one in a club gets like that unless he’s part of the inner circle.”

Nodding, Nash met her gaze. “I was the sergeant-at-arms. I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but I’ll own up to it. No one’s to blame for my past except me, and I’m the one who has to deal with it when the time comes.”

“True, but as long as you’re not looking to cause trouble here, I don’t have a problem with what you did before. Also, it’ll help if things get out of hand around here. I have a couple of guys bouncing for me, but once in a while, they need help.”

The door opened and Nash turned to see Carter stroll in, an annoyed look on his face. Jeanette pointed at Clay, who had napkins pressed against his nose to stop the bleeding.

“He started it,” she said.

Carter glanced over at Nash and commented, “And I suppose you finished it?”

Nash shrugged but didn’t take his gaze from away from the sheriff. “I’m not looking for trouble, but I’ll be damned if anyone is getting hit in my presence.”

“Clay hit you?” Carter stepped toward Jeanette, concern clear on his face.

Were the sheriff and Jeanette an item? He seemed a little more worried than normal for any regular citizen. Nash smiled to himself.

“Yes, but I’m fine, Jack.” She waved off his concern. “Nash stepped in before Clay could do anything but slap me.”

The sheriff turned to Nash again. “You must be tougher than you look. Usually, it takes a couple men to take Clay down when he’s had a few.”

Nash shot a surprised glance at Jeanette before meeting Carter’s gaze. “You’re kidding me, right? I’m a few inches taller than him, and outweigh him by at least fifty pounds, and mine’s all muscle. He wasn’t that difficult to handle.”

Clay huffed and mumbled, “If my brother were here, he’d hand you your ass.”

“Maybe, but you aren’t your brother, are you, Clay? I’ll deal with Robinson when he comes looking for me.”

Jeanette’s worried expression caught Nash’s attention. He smiled at her and leaned over the bar to pat her hand.

“Don’t worry, Jeanette. I’ve had the shit kicked out of me for most of my life. I’m a lot tougher than I look, and, like I said, I’m not afraid of Robinson or anyone else.”

Carter rested his hand on Nash’s shoulder. “Son, there are men out there you should be careful of, and Robinson is one of them.”

Before Nash could ask why, Carter turned back to Clay.

“Let’s go, Clay. I have to book you for assault.”

“What the hell for? I only slapped her. It wasn’t like I beat her or anything like that,” Clay protested when Carter lifted him from the chair and cuffed him.

“Drunk and disorderly as well.” Carter shot a glance at Nash. “Actually, I’m charging you with two counts of assault. Rhodes there looks like he might have some injuries.”

Most of Nash’s wounds were from the incident that had landed him in the hospital, but he wasn’t going to argue with the sheriff. He’d spent his life avoiding the police. After Carter had dragged a protesting Clay out, Nash sighed and turned back to the bar, rubbing his hand over his face.

“You look about done in, young man,” Jeanette observed, as she took a broom and started cleaning up the mess they’d made.

“I am, and the painkillers don’t help. I hate being on this shit. Hate the way it makes me feel.” Nash shuddered, shaking off the weight of violence from his shoulders. “So tell me about Robinson? Why are all of you scared of him? Sounds like he’s just a small-town bully.”

Jeanette leaned the broom against a chair and sat next to Nash. She glared at the bottles lined up along the shelves behind the bar.

“Robinson cooks meth and has his pack sell it to the people around here. Hell, they even go into the bigger towns and cities to sell that poison. He grows weed and sells that as well. He’s our local drug dealer. No one wants to cross him because he’s crazy and won’t hesitate to kill anyone who gets in his way.”

Nash wasn’t shocked by what Jeanette was saying. Hell, he’d grown up with men like that in Nashville. Some of his closest acquaintances were like Robinson. There was only one member of his club he considered a friend, and Ten was no killer. He wasn’t even an enforcer like Nash.

“I have first-hand knowledge of how drugs can mess everyone up, not just the people who take them. Dealers get just as addicted to the high of breaking the law as the addicts do to the drugs.” Nash had too many memories racing around his brain to be comfortable with the topic.

“Did you ever sell or do drugs?”

He shook his head. “No, I never did drugs. Hate the idea of not being in control. Tried weed once and hated it. As for selling them, I never personally did it, but my club did, and I had to protect the product and the money.”

Jeanette smiled. “Good. I don’t want a junkie working for me. You see how well it went with Clay there. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been sampling his brother’s stuff.”

Nash stood and stretched carefully. “Is there a motel in town I can get a room at?”

“Oh, I have a trailer out behind the bar you can use. I went in and cleaned it yesterday, so it’s all good. The electricity and water are turned on. You won’t have to worry about that.”

“How much do I owe you for it?”

She wrinkled her nose while she thought. “Hell, I made the last tenant pay two-fifty, but that seems a lot to ask when you’re only going to be here for a short time.”

Nash thought about the money he had. He’d cleaned out all of his bank accounts when he’d left Nashville and hadn’t really spent any of it, except on gas and food. He could afford to pay Jeanette the amount she asked without worrying about it.

“Tell you what? Why don’t I work at your bar for room and board? That way you don’t have to worry about getting all those pesky papers filled out for the employment people.”

“Staying as far under the radar as you can? Are you sure the police aren’t after you? Because if they are, once Jack runs your name, they’ll know where you are,” Jeanette pointed out.

“I was cleared, so the law has no reason to want me. It’s all my so-called friends who are looking for me.” He chuckled. “Renewing my friendships with them isn’t in my best interest.”

Jeanette laughed while handing him a set of keys. “Here are the keys to the trailer. Pull your bike around back and lie down for a while. When you get up, if you feel like it, come back over, and I’ll show you what you need to do.”

Nash bent and brushed a kiss over Jeanette’s cheek. “Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate you being willing to help me out.”

She patted his biceps. “Don’t worry, dear. We helped each other out, and I think you’re going to have more to do than bartend. Robinson isn’t going to let this go. He’ll want to pay me back for firing Clay.”

“I’ll be here to keep you and your property safe. I might not be a hundred percent, but I’m still breathing, and I don’t back down from a fight until I’m dead.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Jeanette said as Nash walked away from her.

He went outside and climbed on his bike. After riding it around the side of the bar, he saw the doublewide trailer sitting behind the building. Good thing he’d be working nights mostly, because there wouldn’t be any way to block out the noise from The Watering Hole.

Nash parked the bike right next to the front porch and entered. It was clean and nice, and didn’t have the lingering hint of despair most trailers Nash was familiar with had. This one actually looked like whoever took care of it gave a shit.

Exhaustion kicked in so, after bringing in his bags, he stripped and climbed into bed. The sheets still had their freshly laundered scent, and he relaxed, giving his aching body a vacation from his messed-up life.