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I held the power.

At least I had. Until Danny and Vicious showed up and reminded me where I had come from and what I had lived through.

Then the nightmares started again.

Most evenings, I would end up back down here. Woken by the terror of my past. Afraid to close my eyes again for fear I would be back in that cell. Back in that hospital with the nurse’s dire warnings filling my head.

Back in Chicago, looking my savior in the eye, scared he would recognize me and take me back somewhere and hide me away. And terrified of the feelings inside me that told me I would be a fool not to let him.

Many nights I found myself at the bar in the early hours of the morning. I wasn’t alone. Bane also sat at the bar, tormented by something only he knew.

I recognized the shadows and demons in his eyes when he directed them my way. Which was often. He never spoke to me. Never asked me to his room or tried to push himself on me.

He just stared.

Like I was a puzzle he was trying to understand. He seemed nice enough. Though quiet. Reflective. He didn’t engage unless someone spoke to him first.

He just sat at the bar and drank.

Shortly after he arrived, he’d ordered himself a case of Hell’s Breath. His own special blend he called it.

King lost his mind when he found it in the clubhouse and ordered his men not to touch it. Grace had given Jack and Ryder a taste of Hell’s Inferno, made from the same distillery as Hell’s Breath and well, it didn’t go over well.

So, Bane sat alone at the bar with his whiskey, drowning his troubles in a glass. I felt sorry for him. He looked lonely. Like he needed a friend.

He had been here for weeks. During the day, he would often disappear after breakfast for hours on end, doing who knows what. Then reappear in time for dinner and spend the evening drinking.

I walked over to where he sat at the bar and took the seat beside him.

“Happy New Year, Bane.”

“Happy New Year,” he muttered back.

“Any New Year’s resolutions?”

He scoffed. “Same old shit just a new number at the end.”

“Come on. It can’t be that bad.” I bumped his shoulder, trying to loosen him up. I was playing with fire, and I knew it.

The guys whispered about the surly biker from New York. How he was Montana’s best friend, only the two hated each other. I had never met Montana. But when you were in a biker clubhouse, the rumors flew around like vultures circling.

Women were said to be gossips who blathered on about anything and everything. They had nothing on bikers. As a club girl, I was always around. Sitting at the bar or in a brother’s lap. We all were, and often we heard more than we should because no one had looser lips than a biker who took advantage of any reason to bust another’s balls with a story they had heard.

“It’s almost midnight. Better pick someone to kiss before the guys snatch up the eligible women. There aren’t a lot of us here.”

The countdown rang out across the room. Brothers shouting out the numbers as the clock struck closer to midnight.

“Five... Four... Three... Two... One...”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

“Happy New Year, Amber.” Bane leaned over and kissed the side of my head, then rose from his stool and walked off down the hall. I stared after him, confused by his decision.

I had steeled myself to allow him to kiss me. He was old enough to be my father, and given what my father had done to me, I stayed away from men his age.

But something about him called out to me. Not in a sexual way. Though I was surprised he apparently didn’t see me that way either.

Maybe it was the loneliness he wore like a cloak. Something about his demeanor reminded me of myself.