For four years she belonged to Casey Landry, bound by his money, his rules, and a body he paid to reshape while the Landry name ruled Terrebonne Parish.
No man had looked at her face in years until she saw Lucien Baptiste standing across Bourbon Street, a dark, inked prospect for the Jokers MC who treated her as more than what was on display.
One morning, one breakfast, and one afternoon in a cemetery where the dead rest above the water were enough to make her want a life Casey did not own.
Casey does not release what he thinks is his, and in a parish built on oil money and old silence, leaving him means going through him.
Lucien carries his own scars and a name he still has to fight, yet he has no desire to possess her, and that is what finally makes her feel seen.
