Chapter 1: Prologue

A yell ripped him from his cool sheets and peaceful sleep. Well, about as peaceful as one can get after a whole bottle of Patrone. He sat straight up—the small, dark room, stuffy even with the box fan in the corner on full blast. The one thing he always hated about California. The yell came again—deep and throaty—and it was like taking a cheese grater to his heart. He skipped dressing, the shorts were enough, and was down the hall as fast as he could move.

The door at the end of the hall was closed and he sent a quick prayer upward that it wasn't locked. Gemma would be pissed if he had to kick it in—she already had two new coffee tables on order for last week's brawl that he honestly could not remember who started. He tried the handle and it moved easily.

"Tig?"

The bedside lamp was on and a topless blonde was kneeling over his best friend, worry written on her face smudged with last night's make up. She looked up as Kozik walked in and bit her lip—seeming oblivious to the fact that he had a perfect view of her tits.

"I don't know—he just keeps making noise." She moved aside so he could come to the edge of the bed. "Is he dreaming?"

Kozik shook his head. Tig wasn't dreaming. Quite frankly, he didn't know if the man ever did—but dreaming was not the word for what this was. Tig's black curls were plastered to his head as droplets of sweat beaded on his forehead. Goosebumps had broken out on his bare chest and arms, almost like he was fighting the worst of fevers.

The sheets were balled at his side and Kozik knocked them to the floor in order to take his friend by the shoulders. "Tig?" he said steadily. "Hey man—come on."

He turned to ask the hooker to leave right as a fist collided with his jaw. Tig's right hook was nasty even when he was asleep and knocked him on his ass beside the bed. The blonde screamed as Kozik spat on the floor and rubbed his face—thank god Tig had taken his rings off before bed.

"You might wanna-" he gestured to the door and she hurried out, still practically naked and most likely into the arms of another club member—he had bigger problems than a frightened piece of ass.

He cracked his neck and stood again—Tig was still making noise, quiet whimpers followed by gravely groans that sounded painful, breath coming a little too fast. Kozik tried again. He kept back about an arms length and nudged the sleeping man between the shoulders, pushing the unruly black hair back from his ears and speaking quietly.

"Man, come on. It's me." No response. He was half tempted to throttle him until he woke up, perhaps beat him with a pillowcase like when they were young, but he refrained. Never wake a sleep walker, right? This had to be along those same rules. Hell if he knew.

"Need help, Ko-zee?" A thick Scottish accent said from the doorway. Chibs tucked a cigarette behind his ear and let his hands rest on his hips, ready to lend a hand.

"No, I got this."

"Want me to call Clay?"

"I said I got this!" Kozik snapped as Tig growled again.

Chibs raised his hands in slight defense. "Just a suggestion."

Kozik sighed and nodded, his own small apology. He liked the Scot—probably the most out of any of the others—and he was just trying to help.

"I got this, thanks." He stopped as Chibs started to turn and rubbed the back of his neck. "Um—there's a naked blonde running around somewhere—make sure she's okay."

Chibs smirked—the scars on each cheek dimpling as he gave a nod. "Aye, now that I can handle."

Kozik shook his head and ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair. He thought about his next move as Tig jerked and gripped the pillow. He desperately did not want to be punched again.

He held his jaw and hurried to the door, putting fingers in his mouth and letting out a short high pitched whistle. "Miss-hay!" he called and there was a pause before the sound of thick nails fighting for traction on the hardwood brought a smile to his face.

A tan and black bundle of energy barreled down the hall towards him, tongue flapping, ears standing tall and Kozik gave her a quick pat before moving out of her way. He pointed to the bed and snapped his fingers. "Get him," he said gently and she was all too happy to comply.

The German Shepard ran at the bed and bounced on the mattress, nose-diving under Tig's pillow and waggling her butt as if they were playing hide and seek. She stayed still, determined to have him notice her, but when Tig didn't move, she plopped her head on his chest. She whimpered—licking his face and nudging his cheek with her leathery nose.

Kozik chuckled. She knew how to work her old man, that was for sure. She practically had Gemma beat when it came to that skill.

Tig opened his eyes slowly, a confused expression fading to one of affection as he nosed her back. "Hey baby," he said gruffly, giving her a scratch behind the ears.

Delighted at his undivided attention, she nosed her way under his arm and stretched the length of his body, tucking her tail along his hip. She knew—she always did—and Kozik smiled a little sadly. As he shifted, it drew Tig's attention away from Missy and he looked at him with another confused face—dark eyebrows pulling together.

"What are you—Is something wrong?" he glanced at the clock, no doubt wondering what club shit had gone down in the middle of the night and if it required dragging his ass from the comfort of his battered mattress. They both looked to the red glow of the bedside clock—4 AM—this time of night should not fucking exist.

Tig sat up and scratched his chest, running both hands through his hair and carefully trying not to disturb Missy.

"It happened again didn't it?" he asked. Kozik nodded. He gestured to Kozik's head, spotting the split lip. "And that?"

"Nah—this-" Kozik touched it, heat pulsating from the shallow cut and he fought back a wince. "No, this—I-"

"You're a shitty liar." He ran a hand over Missy's fur and watched his fingers part lines down her back.

A silence fell and Kozik contemplated slipping out the door while Tig was somewhat distracted. His friend, a man not known for his particularly warm demeanor, nuzzled the dog, nose to nose and pulled back with a scrunched face.

"Jesus—she smells like bourbon."

Kozik chuckled and crossed his arms over his flat chest. "Wonder where she gets that from?" he asked arbitrarily.

Tig continued to rub Missy, shaking her head back and forth between his hands and speaking to her directly. "Was it top shelf? It better be. None of that shit behind the counter Piney gives to his second-rate hookers."

Missy barked and apparently that was a 'yes' because Tig praised her again and tucked her under his arm, wiping a bit of dust off her nose. He spoke to her like he would a person. Not like one coos at a child but as if her chocolate eyes could comprehend everything he said. And who knew, she probably could. It made Kozik smile again.

With a bite of his lip, Kozik did slip out into the hallway-silently pulling the door closed behind him while Tig was distracted. It went without being said—this wouldn't be the last time he was pulled from sleep to come to the rescue of a man who would never need it outside the world of his own nightmares.

Kozik passed the Scot's room—hearing a feminine giggle and a stereotypical "Aye Lassie" from behind the door—at least someone was having a good time. Alone once again, in his own room, he curled under his patchwork quilt and hoped for sleep but received nothing but worry.

Reviews are needed and appreciated! This will be slow going at first because I have too much shit going on. But hopefully I will get it rolling soon.