Disappointment settled in my heart, but then anticipation replaced it. I could wait to give him pleasure. After all, we had all the time in the world now. We’d found each other. Nothing could ruin that.

Nothing.

“Answers?” I stretched, my body feeling used and taken.

Arthur climbed off the bed, heading to the bathroom for a second shower. He turned by the door, saying, “Don’t you find it strange that it was you who were stolen?”

I sat up, a cold draft howling down my back. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

Yes, I do find it very strange.

Lighter Boy came to mind and all the questions I’d been avoiding swarmed with determination.

His emerald eyes darkened to moss. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

I agree. “I’m sure it’s explainable.”

He bared his teeth. “That’s what I’m afraid of. I went eight years thinking you were dead. Then you just turn up because my Club stole you—against orders—to traffic you into slavery? It doesn’t make sense.”

I couldn’t stop the animosity replacing our postcoital glow. I’ve been thinking the same thing. “What are you saying?”

That someone knew who I was? Before I remembered? Before all of this?

He glared across the room. “I think there’s a lot more than we both know. And I mean to get answers.”

“But how? What if—”

His hands balled into fists. “I’ll make them talk by any means necessary, even if I have to spill blood to do it.”

The compound was quiet when we arrived.

Most of the men I’d met at the pizza lunch weren’t there. In fact, the whole place looked deserted.

“How many rooms are there here?” I asked, following obediently behind Arthur. My jeans and yellow T-shirt were a splash of color in the dark grey–and–wooden floor décor.

Arthur looked completely in control in his black jeans and T-shirt with his leather jacket. There wasn’t a hint of the soft, vulnerable man who’d had his tongue between my legs only hours before.

He’s my secret.

Kill the biker president had replaced my soul mate, Art. I just had to learn how to love both of them—despite what he’d done.

“There are ten bedrooms, three common areas, a few offices, and the garage. Why?”

“No reason. Just wondering. And you never stay here? Do the others?”

He chuckled. “I stayed when I first arrived. But that was before the renovation and cleanup—before the crew embraced what I could do for them and followed my rules.”

There was so much I didn’t know: What had he been up against? How had he been incarcerated? How had he found freedom?

So much to learn before we could reconcile completely. I loved a stranger. There would be nothing powerful enough to stop my love—time had tried and failed—everything else was inconsequential. Whatever existed between us was steadfast and immune, but it didn’t mean I would blindly follow him if he was doing things that were morally wrong.

“And you expect your men to stay here, but you don’t?”

Arthur stopped. “When did I ever say they lived here? This place belongs to everyone. At the same time it belongs to no one. It’s a place of sanctuary, brotherhood, and business. Before I took over, it was a requirement for each man, including the president, to live on home turf. To put their brothers over wives and kids, to put the Club before blood. It made for an unbalanced family.

“Men need the softness they get from women—they need to be reminded of their value and rules placed on them by loved ones. Living together, taking orders, never having something of their own that wasn’t already claimed by the Club made for anger, discord, and a fucking lot of fighting. Sure, they were loyal, but this way—my way—means they get the love of their blood and family, and their loyalty and regiment of their Club.”

Love of a woman. The love he never had. He’d tried to give his men what he would never have.

My heart broke all over again.

He smiled softly. “Win-win.”

I wanted to tell him I understood—that I got why he needed his men to value love above everything, but I didn’t want to point out something so tender. Instead, something tugged at my brain, wanting to break free but still prisoner to my mind. “That’s not how we were raised, though. Is it?”

Arthur smiled. “You remember that?”

I shook my head. “No, it’s just a feeling.”

He took my hand, squeezing. “You’ll remember soon enough. I’m with you now. I’ll piece you back together.”

My heart beat hard at the adoration emanating from him. The words “thank you” rested on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to thank him for loving me, for loving me so much he’d lived a life of utter loneliness while watching his men go home to their families. Such strange things to be grateful for, but if he hadn’t—

Horror lodged quickly in my throat.

If he’d laid my ghost to rest, he might’ve found love with another. I might’ve turned up to find him happily married… with kids and no feelings left for me.

Oh God.

“Hey…” Arthur cupped my chin, bringing my eyes to his. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I gave him a watery smile. “I’m being an idiot.”

He pressed his lips gently against mine, stealing the horror in my heart and replacing it with love. “I agree. You’re being an idiot.”