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The wind tears at my leather cut as I push the Harley harder down the county road. My patch "TANK" over my heart and the Iron & Blood insignia covering my back have seen better days, but they're still intact. Just like me.

The rustic wooden sign welcoming me to Sweetheart County seems like a bad joke as I roar past it. Nothing sweet about why I'm here. The text message from my baby sister Lilly still burns in my mind: *He won't leave me alone, Tank. I'm scared.*

That's all it took. Twenty hours on the road, stopping only for gas and the occasional protein bar. The club understood. Family first, always.

The fairgrounds appear ahead, a patchwork of colored tents and flashing rides against the afternoon sky. I can smell the mixture of fried dough, livestock, and cotton candy from here, precisely the kind of place Lilly loves and exactly the kind of place I'd normally avoid.

I ease off the throttle as I approach the entrance, ignoring the stares my bike and appearance attract. The parking attendant, a teenager with acne and a nervous smile, points me to a spot near the entrance.

"Five dollars," he stammers, trying not to stare at my tattoos or the visible outline of the knife strapped to my leg.

I hand him a ten.

"Keep it," I grunt, not waiting for his thanks as I swing my leg over the bike.

My boots hit the dirt, and I roll my shoulders to work out the kinks from the long ride. The fairground buzzes with activity —families with children, teenagers on dates, farmers showing prize livestock. Everyone seems carefree. Everyone except me.

I check my phone for the hundredth time. Lilly's last message reads: *Meet me by the ferris wheel at 3. Bringing Katty.*

Katty. Lilly's best friend since high school. I've heard the name for years but never met her. Lilly says she's the only one who believes her about her ex, Dylan. That makes Katty good people in my book.

The ferris wheel isn't hard to find. It towers over everything else, its colored lights already blinking despite the daylight.

As I make my way through the crowd, people part like the Red Sea.

I'm used to it. Six-foot-four, two-forty, covered in ink, with a face that hasn't smiled in years. I'm not exactly county fair material.

I spot Lilly before she sees me. My little sister, all grown up at twenty-three, her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing a sundress that makes her look younger than she is. She's laughing at something, her head thrown back, and for a second, I see the kid she used to be.

Then I see who's making her laugh, and my steps falter.

The woman beside Lilly is nothing like I imagined. In my mind, Katty was a carbon copy of my sister—small, blonde, delicate. The reality is something else entirely.

She's tall, with curves that her jeans and tank top don't hide, and wild dark hair that falls past her shoulders. When she turns, I catch sight of a half-sleeve tattoo on her right arm, intricate roses and thorns disappearing beneath her shirt.

But it's her smile that hits me the hardest. Wide and genuine, lighting up her whole face. I've seen a lot of smiles in my time, most of them fake or fear-based. Hers is neither.

Lilly spots me then, her face breaking into relief. "Tank!" she shouts, waving frantically.

I close the distance between us, and she launches herself at me. I catch her easily, holding her tight, feeling how small she still is in my arms.

"You came," she whispers against my chest.

"Of course I came," I reply, setting her back on her feet. "That's what big brothers do."

When I look up, Katty is watching us, her expression unreadable. Up close, she's even more striking—green eyes that seem to see right through me, a small scar bisecting her left eyebrow, full lips pressed together in assessment.

"So, you're the famous Tank," she says, her voice lower than I expected, a slight rasp to it. "Lilly said you'd come. I told her you'd probably break the sound barrier getting here."

There's no fear in her face as she looks at me, just calm appraisal. It's... unsettling.

"Katty," I acknowledge with a nod, extending my hand. "Thanks for looking out for my sister."

She takes my hand, her grip firm. "She'd do the same for me."

Lilly looks between us, something like relief in her eyes. "Now that you're both here, I feel better already." Her voice drops. "Dylan said he might show up today. That's why I wanted to meet here. Plenty of witnesses."

My jaw tightens. "Tell me everything about this asshole."

"Not here," Katty interrupts, scanning the crowd. "Too many ears. Let's walk."

As we start moving through the fair, I notice how Katty positions herself. Always on Lilly's outside, eyes constantly roaming the crowd. She's protecting my sister.

And just like that, in the middle of the Sweetheart County Fair, with the smell of funnel cakes in the air and children screaming on rides, I feel something I haven't felt in years.

Interest. Dangerous, unexpected interest in a woman who clearly has her own kind of strength.

I push the feeling down, lock it away. I'm not here for that. I'm here for Lilly, to handle a problem that needs handling.

"So, this Dylan character," I say as we weave through a cluster of teenagers. "What's his deal? Lilly hasn't told me much besides that he won't leave her alone."

Katty's eyes meet mine over Lilly's head. There's a heaviness there, a silent communication that my sister is downplaying things.

"Dylan Thomas," Katty says, her voice dropping to ensure only we hear. "Local boy who thinks the town belongs to him because his daddy's the biggest real estate developer in the county. Dated Lilly for six months. When she broke it off, he didn't take it well."

"Didn't take it well is an understatement," Lilly mutters, her earlier cheerfulness fading. "He shows up everywhere. My work, my apartment, even followed me to yoga class. Left notes on my car saying we're 'meant to be together.'"

My fists clench at my sides. "You file a restraining order?"

"Tried," Katty answers for her. "Sheriff's office said there wasn't enough evidence of an actual threat. Plus, Dylan's father plays golf with the sheriff every Sunday."

Of course. Small town bullshit. Some things never change.

We stop at a food stand, and Lilly insists on buying us all lemonades. I watch as she chatters with the vendor, putting on her brave face. She's always been good at that, pretending everything's fine when it isn't.

"She didn't tell you the worst parts," Katty says, standing close enough that her arm brushes mine. "He slashed her tires twice. Broke into her apartment while she was at work and rearranged all her furniture. Left a dead rose on her pillow."

Heat floods my system, that familiar rage building. "Why the hell am I just hearing about this now?"

"Because she knew what you'd do," Katty replies, her eyes steady on mine. "And she was trying to handle it herself. She only called you when she found out he bought a gun last week."

The cup in my hand crumples slightly. "A gun."

"Yeah." Katty takes a sip of her lemonade, her throat working as she swallows. "That's when I told her she needed to call you. Some situations require a... specialized approach."

There's something in the way she says it. Not judgmental, not fearful, but matter-of-fact. Like she understands exactly what kind of man I am and what I'm capable of.

Lilly returns with her lemonade, forcing a smile. "They added extra sugar for me. The guy remembered from last year."

I drape my arm around her shoulders. "You always did have a sweet tooth."

We continue walking, passing game booths where carnies try to entice passersby to throw darts at balloons or knock down milk bottles. The fairground is getting more crowded as evening approaches, the lights of the rides growing brighter against the darkening sky.

"He texted this morning. Said we needed to 'talk things through' and that the fair would be 'the perfect romantic setting to reconnect.'" Lilly tells me.

"That's why we're here," Katty adds. "Plus..." She hesitates.

"Plus what?" I ask.

"Plus I knew you were coming," Lilly finishes. "And I wanted him to see that I'm not alone anymore."

Using me as a deterrent. Smart. But if Dylan's unstable enough to buy a gun, seeing me might just push him over the edge.

"What does he look like?" I scan the crowds with new purpose.

"Tall, but not as tall as you," Lilly describes. "Dark blonde hair. Usually wears polo shirts. Has a small scar above his lip from a fishing accident."

"He'll be easy to spot," Katty adds. "He sticks out here like—"

"Like a biker at a county fair?" I finish for her, the corner of my mouth lifting slightly.

For the first time, Katty smiles directly at me—a real smile that reaches her eyes. "Exactly like that."

She looks gorgeous. Damn it.

We approach the livestock area, and Lilly brightens at the sight of baby goats in a pen.

"Oh! Can we?" she asks, already pulling us toward them.

Some things never change. My baby sister, tough enough to leave home at eighteen and make her own way, still turns into a kid around animals. I can't help but smile as she leans over the fence, cooing at a black and white kid that prances toward her.

"She needed this," Katty says beside me as we hang back. "Something normal. She hasn't been sleeping well."

I study her profile in the glow of the string lights overhead. "How long have you two been friends?"

"Since tenth grade chemistry. We were lab partners," she explains. "I accidentally set her notebook on fire the first day."

"And she still wanted to be your friend?" I raise an eyebrow.

Katty shrugs. "I put it out before the teacher noticed. Lilly said anyone who could handle a crisis that calmly was someone she wanted in her corner."

My sister's always been a good judge of character. As I watch Katty watching Lilly, I see the protective instinct there, similar to my own but different. Softer around the edges, maybe, but no less fierce.

"What's your plan?" Katty asks, turning those green eyes on me. "For Dylan."

"Depends," I say honestly. "I need to see what kind of man he is. Some back down when confronted. Others need more... convincing."

She nods, unsurprised. "Just so we're clear, I'm not opposed to whatever needs to happen. Lilly's tried doing things the right way. It didn't work."

Before I can respond, Lilly's head snaps up, her body going rigid. She backs away from the goat pen slowly, her eyes fixed on something, or someone, across the pavilion.

"He's here," she whispers when we reach her.

I follow her gaze and spot him immediately—exactly as described. Polo shirt, khakis, that pretty-boy look that always makes my teeth itch. He hasn't seen us yet, but he's scanning the crowd, hunting.

"Stay with Lilly," I tell Katty, already moving forward.

Her hand catches my arm, surprisingly strong. "Wait." When I look back, her expression is fierce. "Together. We do this together."

We stand side by side in the glow of the fair lights, ready to protect what matters. And as Dylan's searching gaze finally finds us, I realize this Sweetheart County Fair just got a lot more interesting.