Disclaimer – The characters of this fanfiction, as well as the 'Sons of Anarchy' world belong to Kurt Sutter, with the exception of Nadia and Brad Cohen, who are original characters created by me. I make no profit from this work.
Reviews are welcomed! Write me what you think, what/if you expect to read about these characters further, etc. Thank you!
The Shadow – a Tig story
Follow up in Ashes and Burns
By Dianne Winter
Premises: Nadia Cohen is a new face in town. She used to do work for the Natsuki family and an old SOA enemy, Jacob Hale, who tries to bring in some dubious investors to Charming. One of them is Nadia's brother, Brad, a British porn king. But Hale suspects Nadia is playing him and aims to obtain her loyalty by force, in turn causing her to rebel and cause an array of destruction, culminating to a chase and a nasty chain crash.
The courtyard is unusually quiet, somewhat deserted: no motors today, just the mechanics mending something in the garage. Somewhere in the shade, Tig stretches on an iron table, lazily puffing some weed. The sound of an engine tears at the silence, uneasily forcing him out of his lethargy.
As she approaches, Nadia knows this is either life or death, but she has no choice, she's out of friends for the day. Her bike is badly damaged, yet remarkably, still running, her black leather jacket, dusty and torn and she's bleeding. There's no time to find the exact place of the wound; everything hurts after that tumble. Thanks goodness for the adrenaline kicking in, allowing for a kind of agonizing alertness. As soon as she pulls over, she gets a faint sense of accomplishment and she knows this is too soon. "Don't you relax; focus! Just focus!" she whispers to herself wrestling her injured, tired body.
Tig watches her with a cold, vague expression that both puzzles and intrigues her. Nadia doesn't know exactly what she should say; she simply un-mounts and removes her helmet. The dark, long hair flows over her back and shoulders, tips dancing in the hot breeze. Her sensual, exotic features: hips to die for, hard, round bosoms, tan skin, large, high cheek bones, bright greenish eyes and softly curved, full lips make Tig utter a quick "oh, yeah…" Juice appears out of nowhere, watching the stranger with a gaze could be easily described as outrage.
"Can you take a look at my bike?" she goes smiling shyly. Her accent is bizarre too, sounds rather British.
Baffled, the men beam at each other.
"Yeah, sure," says Tig eventually. "What happened?"
"Had a crash," she responds laconically.
"Anyone else involved?" asks Tig casually.
"Just I," she retorts briefly, then adds looking straight into his pale eyes: "No cops, please."
Tig takes a moment to reflect before nodding in agreement.
"Are you ok?" he investigates glancing at her torn jacket. He's already noticed a tiny trickle of blood dripping down her arm.
"Yeah," she says simply, and then questions both: "do you have a bathroom around here?"
"Sure, just walk in, to the right," Juice responds almost automatically with a note of surprising politeness which instantly drives Tig mad. He hated when Juice was pulling this sort of lines. But Tig himself can't take his eyes off her. He seems mesmerized by her swaying shapes that remind him a predatory animal, perhaps a panther, oh yeah, a dark, silky panther with green eyes and a thin smirk. He's already picturing her naked on the pool table moaning while he enters her over and over mindlessly. For a moment he needs to close his eyes, wishing to shake off this fantasy and regain some sort of clarity of thought. Perhaps Juice already figured it out; he must have since he's staring back at him with his eyes pilled.
"Hey, what's your name, babe?" he says simulating lack of intention.
She just smiles making her way to the bathroom.
It's been a while now since Tig came to understand his own sadness. He felt broken and bitter, and didn't seem able to come to grips with it just yet. Despite the hard shell he kept displaying, the cruel clown façade which impressed his buddies and got bitches wet, he wasn't rock solid. Tiggy had serious issues. As a matter of fact, all he ever needed was an unchanged order, something that prevented him to face the chaos within. This is one of the reasons why he didn't cope well with change and since Clay fall off with Gemma, things kept changing. With an ambitious and inexperienced Jax in power, Tig felt increasingly unsafe and that in turn meant even more torment, bitterness and aggression. There are things in life which would turn most people wiser or at least cautious, but in Tig's case, such events had only made him bolder.
As soon as she leaves his sight another emotion seeps in his mind, quickly taking over: the feeling of danger, of being played; it's overwhelming. Bitch! he mumbles to himself, staring without a target. Something's up with this girl, something bad. Fuck it! he whispers heading in hastily. Tig slams the bathroom door open, and with a swift, angry gesture, pins her against the wall.
"Who the fuck are ya?" he growls at her grabbing her slender neck with his large hand.
"Hold your horses, cowboy!" the woman chuckles revealing a row of pearly-white teeth. "I'm just… I need help," she says fighting his grip, "let go…" She then adds a firm, almost commanding: "Please."
A shiver of pleasure goes down Tig's spine. That imposing voice, that unconditioned, undisputable and yet so humble "please" makes his eyes moist with sentiment and desire. He had always been a sucker for strong women. They've been like a sort of spell, his secret fetish; each time he bumped into one, he almost lost control and he thought he was damned right to react that way, after all, women like those were rare. This was one of the reasons for revering Gemma. In his case, such appreciation translated into lust, which he was still significantly fighting to suppress. As for this bitch, oh she was trouble, not only for him, but for the club, yet he wanted to be a good puppy, ohhhh he wanted so badly.
"Fine!" he smirks silly, releasing her.
"I'm Nadia, by the way," she says smiling back, touching her neck.
"Tig…"
"Can you stitch? Tig..." she asks, shamelessly removing her jacket, exposing her gorgeous naked chest. Apart from a few bruises and some superficial cuts, she seems fine. A nasty gash on her shoulder makes him question if they should imply Tara. His eyes trace the sinuous contour of a tiger tattooed on her back, climbing his way up through beautifully drawn clouds, arching its neck towards the shoulders. This wasn't the overused, dark motif so abused by most of the bikie whores he used to fuck, this was a genuine work of art, a refined piece, something of Asian influence and perhaps creation, something which must have cost a lot of money.
The shoulder injury seemed deep and painful. Fresh blood kept coming out of it with each move. Tig could have fixed it, but perhaps Tara would have been able to do a more aesthetic job.
"Hey, we have a doctor around here. I think you should have that looked at…"
She starts searching through the first aid box.
"I want you to do it," she says uncompromisingly putting the needle and the thread in his hand.
"This is gonna hurt," he whispers, but she is undeterred and fearless. She closes her eyes and doesn't make a sound while the needle pierces through her skin.
He is no short but amazed and somewhat respectful. Deep down all Tig wants is to get close to her, to be loved. Sometimes it feels easier to share intimacies with total strangers, especially when you think they're not going to stick around for much longer. He could turn very soft, it was what women liked after all, but in a split second he could revert to the cold, spiteful man he liked so much to be. But with this one he had no idea which way was best.
"You're not from around," he questions picking up the bandages.
The girl looks at him with her intense eyes in which he guesses a shameful secrets and unspeakable misfortunes.
"I grew up in London, UK," she responds.
"What are ya doing in Charming?"
Nadia takes some time before answering; she doesn't know how to put it without revealing too much:
"Long story… I wanted a quiet place."
He grins, thinking about it. Wrong choice, bitch!
"So what happened?" he inquires.
"I went into a fight with some people. They followed me, I dashed, I crashed…"
"Why did ya come here?"
She turns around amused, looking into his eyes with a mix of desire and childishness:
"You fix bikes, don't you?"
Tig is not falling for it. He's too old to be that stupid and he certainly is not a stupid man in the first place. He leans forward, kisses her cheeks, her open lips, even if this was the last thing to do, he had to do it. It feels awkward. She didn't expect this, she doesn't know him at all, she shouldn't, but it does good: it's warm, comforting, it almost makes her cry.
"What did you do, Nadia?"
She glances back with a dread expression:
"I killed somebody."
The revelation has a stunning effect on Tig. He suddenly acquires the sensation he'd known her for years, as if he were inexplicably and intricately related to her.
"Who did you kill, Nadia?"
She shrugs, wishing she could avoid his eyes, then utters bluntly:
"Jacob Hale."
"Oh shit, baby," he says taking a few steps back. The anguish unravels before his eyes in a series of consequences he hates to think of, but he has to. "Why did ya do that for?"
She's out of context, half naked in front of him; perhaps her arrival was a stupid thing after all. There's always some other choice. She wasn't ready to spill the beans; she would have felt less of herself in that event.
"There's no point talking to you about this!" she answers in anger, yet her furious pain is telling him more than she ever intended. He figures it all out without her having to say a word more. He sighs, and then walks out at a slow pace.
xxx
"So what's the story with that one?" asks Jax visibly nervous.
"Personal beef," answers the mechanic slightly bored.
"This is a fff… This is… we don't need this shit right now," the President puts it scratching his forehead.
Ever since he fell under the spell of his mom's Latino lover, Jax behaved like a prick. He still tried to do the right thing, which was even worse than just letting himself becoming an ass. This way he only managed to come across as unprepared and annoying. Tig loathed the new order of things.
"I agree," acknowledges the mechanic looking straight into his face. "So what shall we do about it? I can get rid of her, if you want."
"I know you can, Tig," answers Jax sneeringly.
"We might use her in the future," suggests Juice blatantly. "I mean, you never know, we might give her up for something in return… I'm just saying."
"Just shut up, Juice!" Tig hushes him with a kind of contempt in his voice, turning to Jax. "So what do you want with her, boss?"
Jax hates the way he's being addressed, but can't help it. There's hardly any room for additional confrontation that day.
"We keep her for a few days," the president replies shortly. "I've got other things now. Make sure she stays in! Tie her down if you have to. We'll call a meeting."
"All right," agrees the mechanic, pushing Juice back in.
Nadia waits on a chair by the bar. She knows it's not looking good for her; they don't need to tell her, she can see it on their faces. Those losers, with their chrome, petrol smelling toys and their little guns, their knives tied to the belt like teen age punks, she feels disgusted and will never allow them the luxury to take her down. At least this way of thinking makes her lose some of that timidity. In reality, Nadia is an introverted girl, she doesn't like people much, but she's learnt how to take them.
"You're coming with me," commands Tig grabbing her arm.
"Piss off!" she spits at him.
"A feisty one! I like it!" he retorts chewing his tongue in delight.
Nadia walks off on her own retreating into the small bedroom by the bar. She's obviously disturbed with the idea of spending her day hidden there and having to put up with Tig and his mates. She's already decided if any of them tries something funny she'll take them all down or at least as many as she can.
The news of her havoc must have arrived already. It's not every day that Charming gets such fun. Shooting Hale in cold blood wasn't enough to quench her thirst for revenge. She also saw fit to kill two of his bodyguards and set his office on fire. When the remaining brutes got the picture and came after her, she went straight for a big truck coming the opposite way, kamikaze style. It wasn't until the last moment that she swerved away and down that ditch. Poor suckers they came crushing in and a bunch of other cars behind them. As a result, the traffic jammed: ideal conditions to squeeze through even on a wrecked bike. Heart pounding, scared stiff, yet feeling very alive, Nadia drove into the arms of the enemy. What can you do when you don't trust your own brother and you don't have anybody else? It is in Jax's mind now, what did that bastard, Hale, do to drive her so crazy…
Tig knew already and he simply waited for the right moment to push her buttons. It wasn't out of curiosity or to help the president make up his mind, it was simply to defuse Nadia. The frustration and some form of guilt were chewing her soul and that was bad for all of them. The mechanic was certain she would have been easier to handle if she chose to share her secret with him.
She stretched on the bed quietly. As soon as he stepped out, she removed the plasticised photo from the back pocket of her trousers. It was of her dead lover, Takezo Natsuki. He died in Osaka just the year before. It was a surprising and unnecessary death, a common car accident. "I might join you," she whispers softly closing her eyes. "Soon."
When Tig comes in with the lunch: two sandwiches and a glass of orange juice, he found her asleep. He gently lays the tray on the bedside table, looking at her intensively. Without a sound, he gets on top of her, forcing her legs open.
"Is this what happened?" he asks, holding her arms apart.
Stunned, Nadia freezes for a moment. It isn't until he slides his hand inside her trousers that she goes berserk. Tig has no real desire to have her against her will, but he knows the simple suggestion would infuriate her. He releases her as soon as she starts to struggle. The tray flies past his head, nearly missing his eye. Her kicks get the better of him and managed to cause some damage to his upper lip. But soon getting away just isn't enough for Nadia. She picks up a lamp and comes after him, speechless, yet tensed and driven. Insane. The two stumble outside. She ditches the lamp for a better weapon, a wrench which she finds more appropriate for the job. It is kind of funny to kill the man using his own tools, she ponders focussing on him, ready to pounce.
Chibs and Juice pull their guns out. They have no idea what happened in there and don't give a rat's ass about it either. They simply recognize a brother in trouble. Tig had no doubt in his mind she was ready to finish him off, he also notices another kind of morbid wish which scares him far worse than her cruel intention. This girl has a death wish. If he were to tame this one, he needed to be careful.
Calmly, Tig pleads with them to put down their weapons.
"Lower your guns, take it easy," then scornfully beaming at her, "it's just a lovers' thing. Why don't you get rid of that wrench, doll?"
"Up yours, bitch!" she retorts angrily.
"Think for a moment. That's all I'm asking," he urges her, stepping closer. "Come on, give me that shit. I won't hurt ya, think about it."
"I don't trust you."
"You've got no choice, babe", he points at his friends then approaches her directly, fearlessly. He puts his hands on her cheeks, they're burning up. He feels her giving up, crumbling inside, so he tells her: "I am not Hale!" His eyes are cold, emotionless, creepy. She gulps for air. "Would I kill ya? Oh yeah. Would I enjoy myself doing that? Perhaps. Would I take advantage of you? Never. You can count on it." He takes the tool from her hand and moves away casually. "Loosen up, sis! You're a fucking ticking bomb."
"I'm always ready to die," she murmurs.
"You will, but not now, not today. Don't hurry death. Don't tempt me, don't!"
He wanted to scare her, but it was also true. He enjoyed killing. Chibs and Juice watch everything with a sense of amazement. Juice understands most of it, but his mate is utterly lost and he feels like asking for details. Yet, Juice whisks him out of there, while Tig returns Nadia to her confinement.
"Tig? Stay!" she asks him just when he's about to walk out the door.
"I shouldn't," he refuses with a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Just stay. I'm so sad," she bursts.
"I don't care," he cuts it sharply.
"You shouldn't, but I need to tell you everything," she tries to tempt him.
"I'm not sure it'd do ya any good, girl," he declines.
Nadia won't just give up easily. She's not that type:
"So let's talk about you," she provokes him.
"Neah, I don't like talking about me," he responds swiftly.
"What's up?"
"Nothing. Things."
"Have you tried shrinks?" she beams.
"Waste of time. You?"
"Aham."
"What did they say?" he investigates.
"Waste of time."
Tig finds himself in an impossible place: the girl is funny, bright, beautiful and crazy. It is true insane bitches fuck madly, yet they're too much trouble overall. He can only think of having sex with her, but to his horror he begins to develop some feelings. What if they start on that path to realize he'd fallen for her? Neah, no woman can possess his mind that way, perhaps Gemma could, but that was an exception.
"Don't do anything stupid," he says fatherly.
"I won't."
"Sure?"
"I promise."
That soft voice and those full lips. He can't resist speaking his mind:
"Hey, I kinda like ya, girl. I shouldn't, it might get harder for me later."
"I know. Well, I guess you'll figure it out."
"Sleep."
The door closes behind him. She hears a key locking up.
Follow up in Ashes and Burns