Prologue

Terrance "Bear" Collins took a deep breath before lifting his right hand to knock on the apartment door. The ride to Pittsburgh from Mount Grove had taken a little over three hours. He'd practiced what he would say the entire time, and yet his mind blanked now that he stood outside his destination.

A mousy, "Yes?" came from behind the closed door.

Shit. Bear stumbled over his words. "Um, Ms. Carson? You don't know me, but I have some information for you regarding the events of October 9th." There was a long pause. Bear heard a muffled sob come from behind the door. Yeah, he was fucking this up. Damn it. "Ms. Carson, I'm not here to hurt you. I don't know what comfort it will bring you, but I thought you'd want to know that he's dead."

"No." The word came out as a plea, not a conviction. "No, he can't be. I would have heard."

Bear reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He'd kept his riding gloves on for this reason. Neither he nor his club brother Keys wanted their fingerprints on it if it ended up in the hands of the authorities.

Bear slid the piece of paper under the door and waited. He knew the picture was gruesome. He wasn't sure if it would frighten her, but Bear hoped Ali Carson might find some comfort in the fact that her rapist had not died a peaceful and easy death. He'd died bloody and in pain.

"He's dead, Ms. Carson," Bear repeated. "He can't hurt you anymore."

Bear heard crying from the other side of the door and questioned yet again whether he'd made the right decision to come here tonight. Some of the brothers had argued against personally delivering the message, but Bear had insisted. He felt Ali Carson was owed that courtesy.

After several long moments, Bear heard the chain and two locks being disengaged. The door opened slowly. Ali Carson was in her early twenties but looked far older. Her brunette hair hung dry and frayed past her shoulders. It was tangled into mats. Her skin was pale and sickly, like it hadn't seen the sun in a long time. And she was thin. Very thin, to the point where Bear had to wonder when her last meal was.

This was not the healthy young woman he'd seen on Key's computer screen of the nineteen-year-old college cheerleader. This looked like her ghost.

Bear didn't move towards her or indicate he wished to enter her apartment. He didn't, as he didn't plan to stay that long, nor did he wish to intimidate her in any way. "I know it doesn't change what he did, but I hope knowing he can't come after you anymore will bring you some comfort."

Ali was staring at the paper in her hand. "It means everything." Her voice was small, like she wasn't used to using it. "He told me he'd be back. I kept waiting, fearing… I can't sleep, I can't eat… I look for him in every shadow, around every corner…"

Bear wished he could bring Connelly back to life so he could kill him all over again. He fought to keep the anger out of his voice. "I hope you can stop now. I hope this brings you some peace that he's gone."

She nodded. Then raised her head. "Thank you, um…?" she trailed off in question.

Bear shook his head. "Better for you not to know my name."

She nodded, seeming to understand the severity of the situation. He obviously wasn't a cop. "Well, thank you anyway."

"One more thing," he said when she made to close the door. He pulled a thick envelope from the inside of his jacket pocket. "I know it can't make up for what he did to you, but I hope this helps get you back on your feet."

She took the envelope cautiously, opened it and gasped at the amount of green paper inside it. "Where did you get this?"

"You weren't his only victim," Bear informed her sadly. "We took everything he owned and split it between you. It's not justice, but I figured every little bit helps."

Ali clutched the envelope to her chest. She certainly wasn't living in a penthouse. "It does. Thank you."

He gave her a small smile and turned to go. "Oh," he remembered something Keys had told him to pass along. "Don't deposit that all at once. You don't want to attract unnecessary attention, if you know what I mean."

"Yes, yes, of course. Thank you again."

"Lock up," he told her. "I hope you find some closure."

She looked down at the cash and photo in her hands. "I think I just might."

Later that evening,Bear walked into a roadside bar. His motel room was across the street. He'd specifically not worn his cut for this endeavor. He didn't want Ali Carson to be able to identify his motorcycle club if ever questioned by the cops about Mark Connelly's disappearance. Though the club doubted they would even connect Ali to Connelly, it made no sense to take the risk. It felt odd to ride without it, like he'd forgotten to put on his pants that day.

Pittsburgh was only three hours from Mount Grove, Pennsylvania, Bear's hometown. It could have been a day trip up to deliver his news to Ali and back, but there'd been a Steeler's home game and Bear couldn't pass that up. While he wasn't a diehard fan, he enjoyed the occasional game. After his best friend Lucky had adopted his two younger siblings, Bear had gotten used to attending games and football parties without his best bud. It was hard to have a social life when you were a single parent of two. Bear didn't blame Lucky in the slightest. He loved those kids like they were his own niece and nephew.

Since there was no rush to return, Bear had stayed for the game and gotten a motel room for the night. As luck would have it, there was a bar across the street. Generally, Bear drank at his motorcycle club's clubhouse or at the bar they owned and managed called Demon on the Rocks. He didn't overindulge. At least not since his twenties, and that was many years ago. Bear liked the atmosphere of a bar, from the singles looking to hookup for the night to the couples who wanted a night away from the kids, to the music and the dancing, to the sound of the pool balls clacking against each other. He enjoyed it all. The beer was just a bonus.

Bear sat at a corner stool, nursing a longneck. He wasn't too adventurous with his beer and preferred local IPAs.

A hint of gold caught his attention and Bear turned his head in time to see a luscious blonde sitting several stools down from him. No one was between them, so he got a good look at her.

And what a look it was.

She was likely in her early thirties. Her blonde hair was short below her ears with the top part held up in a ponytail. She was wearing a low-cut green dress that she was clearly uncomfortable in, given how she kept playing with the material at her cleavage.

She was pulling a shiny silver sash with pink writing off from around her shoulder with such force it got tangled around her head and glasses before she finally pulled it free. She slapped it down onto the wooden bar, pulled off her glasses, and dropped her head down on top of it.

Her right hand remained slightly lifted in the air with her glasses dangling from between her fingers.

Heat ran through his veins. He'd never seen anything so sexy in his forty years as this woman who, undoubtedly, was trying to be anything but sexy.

Bear had to talk to her. He was a big guy—six foot-six with shaggy brown hair, full beard, and a lot of muscle. It was one of the reasons he took the corner stool. But damn. There was no way he could just sit there while this clearly frustrated siren sat alone so close to him.

He indicated to the bartender for another beer. Bear gestured for him to wait to open it, wanting the woman to see it done herself. His club was neck deep in dismantling a human trafficking ring that had decided to plant roots in Pennsylvania. Women's safety as a whole in society had been at the forefront of his mind for weeks.

He placed the closed beer by her head on the bar. "You look like you could use this more than me."

She lifted her head, and he was taken aback by the beauty of her bright blue eyes. They glowed in her obvious frustration, narrowing at him. She hastily put her glasses back on.

Bear smiled widely at her.

She looked at the beer and the bartender standing behind the bar waiting for her to indicate whether she wanted him to open it. She nodded her head.

After taking a swig, she said, "I'm not sleeping with you."

Bear laughed at her bluntness. "It's a beer, not a marriage proposal. It really did look like you could use one."

She snorted, taking another sip. Then threw a thumb over her shoulder towards the other side of the bar. "My little sister's bachelorette party. She's ten years younger than me and takes every opportunity to remind me that she's the one getting married while I remain perpetually single."

Bear didn't look towards where she pointed. He didn't want to look away from her. "Well, that's rude of her."

The woman snorted. "What's worse is that, if my mom was here, she'd be agreeing just as loudly right alongside her." She picked at the label on the glass beer bottle. More than sadness, Bear saw loneliness on the woman's beautiful face. "They're not wrong."

"Maybe so," Bear shrugged, "but they don't need to be rubbing it in your face."

"I've got a bet going that the marriage doesn't even last a year," she informed him with a mischievous smile.

Fuck, that smile. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. She was utterly gorgeous. She was so small in comparison to him—then again, who wasn't? Generally, he preferred taller women who didn't break his back when he went to kiss them. But damn, he loved her feistiness.

"You ever been married?" she asked, eyeing him sideways.

"Nope." He took a swallow of his beer. He was still on his first, and he planned it to be his only. "Almost was. She left me a Dear John letter with the engagement ring on my kitchen table. Never saw it coming."

She winced. "Sorry."

"Based on your mother's and your sister's comments, I assume you haven't been. I gotta wonder why though. Don't take this as me trying to sleep with you," he added with a half-smile, "but beautiful little thing like you…?"

She let out a loud laugh. "Yeah, but as soon as they see my work schedule they go running. Men don't like being told they can't have sex because their girlfriend is running late for work. Eventually I realized they were still going to have sex, just without said-girlfriend."

"Guys suck," Bear nodded offhandedly.

She grinned sympathetically. "Based on your experience, I could say the same thing about my gender."

Bear shrugged. It was an old wound, but one that'd healed a long time ago. "Took me a while, but eventually I realized I was better off. She wasn't meant to be a military wife. She wanted the benefits, but not the commitment."

"What branch?" she asked.

"Marines," he answered.

"My dad was Navy," she said proudly.

"I won't hold it against you."

She smiled. "I appreciate that."

"You said was," he hedged.

Her smile fell. "He was in the Pentagon when the plane hit. Never made it out."

"I'm sorry," he said honestly. "My best friend and I signed up because of 9-11."

"A lot of people did. He never even knew my mom was pregnant when he died; he never got to meet my little sister." She chugged back the rest of her beer. "Sorry, I didn't mean to turn the conversation so morbid."

"Don't worry about it," he said honestly.

She turned in her stool to face him. Bear was sitting with his back to the bar, his long legs spread out in front of him. He was grateful the bar wasn't overly crowded, because frankly his legs wouldn't fit under the bar. She tipped her head, studying him.

"Anyone ever tell you you look like a grizzly bear?"

He smiled widely. "All the fucking time." He held out his hand to her, "Bear."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

She looked skeptical but then took his hand. His engulfed hers. "Tessa."

They talked for what felt like hours, laughing and chatting. They'd even ordered a basket of fries to split. Finally, Bear indicated to the empty beer bottles. They'd both gotten water with their fries, having only had one beer each. "Another round or did you want to get out of here?"

Tessa raised an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?"

"My motel room is across the street. My motorcycle is parked there. We could go for a ride." She looked behind her at where she'd indicated before to her sister's party. He leaned in closer, "Think she'll miss you?"

Tessa stood. "She won't even notice I'm gone. Let's go."

The next morning,Bear struggled to get the motel door open while balancing the bag of donuts and two coffees he'd run out to pick up. He'd left a very naked and satisfied Tessa asleep in his bed. It had been a long time since he'd felt drawn to a woman as he did Tessa. Not since Bonnie, actually. He didn't know what her plans were for the day, but he hoped she would spend it with him. He had another two days off before he had to be back to work.

Bear's heart sank as soon as he got the door open and saw the empty bed. He didn't need to check the bathroom to know she was no longer there. She left no note, no way to contact her.

Tessa was gone.