Dutch Van der Linde. A rising gang leader and an outlaw. He was feared by families all around Strawberry and Valentine... God he ain't even allowed in Blackwater. But after everything, he chooses to keep a low profile in both Rhodes and Saint Denis. Why? Well because he tells his gang it will be beneficial to their big scoring, Dutch's big plan to get out of there and head to Tahiti...

But was that all really his plan? When he first just caught a glimpse of you at the bar his heart stopped. The prettiest thing he had ever seen, what a woman. From the way the dress you wore laid over your curves and the way the rings you wore on your long fingers tapped against the glasses you handed to those who stood at the bar as they begged for another drink.

For some reason, you didn't seem minded by it all. It just didn't matter. This was your job, and you did it well enough. You had been one of the fastest mixers they had.

One night at the bar, after closing you had been cleaning up the tables. Wiping off all the sticky alchohol that was left behind, or the vomit from those who couldn't handle their drinks. You suddenly felt two large hands wrap around your waist and pull you close, the smell of cigar was strong. "You shouldn't be doing all this work, pretty girl." The man huffed and released a deep chuckle. That is when you first met him. Dutch.

Dutch and you hung together for a while after that, soon becoming absolute sweethearts. He admittedly even stole money from the camp so he could bring you out to dinner, buy you nice jewelry or a new dress... He would do anything for you.

That night when you both laid in a hotel room, your head in his bare chest as he smoked a cigar, you spoke up to ask him if you would ever be allowed to visit where he lived. Where he spent his time, to which he laughed softly, "Ahhh, darlin' don't worry about that..." He didn't want you to find out who he was.