A/N: Here it is, chapter 3! I'm kind of bummed that only 3 people reviewed, when there were over 200 people who read the chapter. I really love writing this story, because the Kaya/Tig dynamic is just too fun, but it's a little sad nobody want to take the time to review. Oh well. For those who have reviewed, keep them coming! They make me smile (:

The smell of bacon was what woke Tig up the second time, and not the crash of his mushroom-induced high. At first, he thought he was just hallucinating, some sort of aftershock from the high-quality drugs he'd ingested. But after a few minutes of consciousness, he realized that the sizzling noises and tantalizing smells were, in fact, coming from the small kitchen down the hall. The Sergeant-at-Arms dragged himself from bed, doing a half ass job of pushing the sheets into some semblance of order before he walked down the hall to investigate the smell. The cut on his forearm was mostly forgotten about after a good rest, but the sight before him caught the Sergeant-at-Arms partially off guard. Kaya stood in the kitchen, tank top and pajama shorts on, humming as she pushed bacon around in a pan. Hell, if she'd been wearing that last night, he really must've been out of it.

"First aid service and breakfast? Shit, I didn't even have to fuck you…I ought to come around here more often and trip out," Tig commented, a lewd grin on his face. If his comment bothered Kaya, she didn't show any sign of it and took it like a champ.

"Imagine that, someone being a decent human being for no other reason than for the hell of it. What a concept. I bet ass holes like you don't comprehend that sort of high level intellectual shit," she shot back as she grabbed a big plate to pile the bacon onto. Tig chuckled and clicked his tongue in mock chastisement.

"That's not very polite to say to your guest," he retorted, leaning against the counter and watching her cook…but mostly letting his eyes wander over her figure. Shit, how the hell had he not noticed she'd been half naked when she'd been bandaging him up? He was usually pretty fucking observant of that kind of thing, particularly when it was someone as out of reach as she was. The longer Tig thought about it, the more he realized she was pretty much off limits. The Natives were their business partners, and mixing business with pleasure usually didn't fly with Clay—though it hadn't stopped Tig from nailing those two Mexican girls who'd been working at their warehouse before it burned down. If that wasn't enough to make her unattainable, her surly, no-nonsense attitude would certainly push her out of reach. But hell, that had never stopped Tig before. The thrill of a good chase only turned him on and made him want her even more.

"More like freeloader," she retorted, fixing him a plate of eggs and bacon and handing it over to him before she fixed herself one. Tig took a seat at the breakfast bar, Kaya remaining in the kitchen, standing as she ate her breakfast. They didn't talk, each of them too busy with their breakfast to make any attempt at their snarky chit chat, but once the two had finished, Tig's sly grin was back in place. He watched as she rinsed of the dishes, bending down to put them in the dishwasher, the sudden tightness in his jeans more than enough reason to bend her over and fuck her senseless in her own kitchen. Somehow, however, the little voice of logic not concerned with fucking everything female—dead or alive—won out, and he just watched her, leering at her from his seat where he could admire her body so well.

"Fucking me with your eyes isn't nearly as satisfying as actually fucking me," she drawled, straightening up and staring him down, one eyebrow raised.

Tig grinned, shifting his jeans slightly before he stood up, "I wouldn't start making those types of comments if I were you…" he drawled, Kaya just snickering.

"Right. You seem to forget that I'm not one of your little crow eaters, or sweet butts, or whatever the fuck you call those whores that degrade themselves just to get your protection. Try anything funny, I'll castrate you faster than you can cry for help," she purred, her soft, seductive voice a stark contrast to the threat she'd just dropped so casually. Despite that, the bulge in his jeans just got more pronounced, the Native American woman obviously not ignorant to that fact. She smirked and walked past him shaking her head as she moved.

"You're one sick fuck, Trager."

"Least I'm a good fuck. Makes up for me being so sick in the head," he retorted, Kaya waving it off.

"You can use the shower if you want. I'm leaving in twenty minutes, you better be out of my fucking house by then," she replied, as though she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

True to her word, Kaya had been dressed and ready within twenty minutes, her bedroom now tidied up. The hot little outfit she'd been wearing was replaced by more practical clothes that covered much too much skin in Tig's opinion. Shorts were replaced with jeans, tiny tank top replaced by a t-shirt, her hair braided down her back instead of flowing wildly like some sort of shadow monster. It didn't matter though, he could still see that hot little figure underneath the jeans and t-shirt, and it brought a grin to his lips.

She didn't need to speak for him to know he was supposed to follow her out of the house, which Tig did willingly. They walked through what was apparently the residential part of the reservation, Kaya heading back towards the mud spring where she'd last seen Tig's companion. Sure enough, he was where she'd left him the night before, fast asleep in the mud pool, clothes piled up on the ground behind him. Tig looked at him, eyebrows raised.

"What the fuck was he doing?" he questioned, Kaya shrugging.

"Don't know. But I'm thinking it had to do with the halfhearted hand job he was giving himself," she commented, watching as Tig approached the sleeping prospect.

"Hey! Sack! Get the fuck up man," he snapped, voice loud enough to wake the prospect with a sharp start, his eyes wide.

"I'm up, I'm up," he said quickly, looking up at Tig, confusion evident on his face.

"Tig? Jesus…what the fuck happened last night?" he questioned, the Sergeant-at-Arms rolling his eyes.

"No idea you crazy ass bastard, but you need to fucking take a shower," he muttered, Sack blinking up at him.

It appeared he hadn't noticed his predicament until just then, face turning red when he realized what sort of situation he'd found himself in after a long night of tripping out.

"Jesus Christ…" he muttered, scrambling out of the mud pool and trying to pull his clothes on before Kaya could see anything. The woman just rolled her eyes, pointing towards the woods.

"Ought to be a spring about half a mile into the forest that way," Kaya said, pointing to the small wooded area that the reservation had, "Wash up there, get decent, and get out."

The prospect looked to Tig for confirmation, the Sergeant-at-Arms nodded.

"Do what she says, Sack. We've got shit to do."

As the two waited for the prospect to clean himself up, it occurred to Tig that Kaya might've overheard his drug-induced ramblings. Though he couldn't quite recall what he'd been talking about, he knew that the guilt hanging heavy on his conscience over Donna's death was likely the topic. Kaya stood still, leaning against the small sign that declared the pit the "medicinal mud bath", apparently unaware of Tig's attention.

"Last night…I wasn't saying anything, was I?" he questioned, Kaya turning her head to glance at him.

She shrugged, "Saying anything? No…"

Before Tig had time for the relief to set in, however, she added a quick statement.

"But you were crying…telling one of the healing dolls that you were 'so sorry'…something like that. Why the hell else would I let you into my house?" she said, Tig frowning.

"I had hoped it was for my devilishly good looks and excellent skills in bed," he replied, a suggestive twinkle in his eyes as he looked at Kaya, eyes roaming over her body.

The woman just rolled her eyes, "I know a killer when I see one, Trager. Anyone as…experienced as you crying is a sad enough sight to make me feel bad. Don't flatter yourself."

Tig shot her a confused glance, unsure how she'd managed to glean that much information from him without talking to him at all. Before he could question her, however, Sack interrupted. He was cleaned off, body free of the mud that had previously covered him, and he was dressed again.

"Good to see you looking human again," Kaya drawled, straightening up.

"C'mon, I'll bring you to your bikes and you can get the hell out of here and leave me to my work," she said, the two Sons nodding as they followed her through the reservation again. Their bikes had been moved to a safer place, but near to the road so they wouldn't have to figure out how to get out.

"Sure you're not going to miss me, beautiful?" Tig questioned as he got onto his bike, Kaya arching an eyebrow.

"I'm sure I'll survive. There are plenty of people who I can attack with knives and take care of—you're not exactly anything extraordinary," she shot back, a grin on her lips, devious twinkle in her eyes.

Sack looked more than a tad confused, but decided, wisely, not to question Tig about their night, which apparently had been spent together.

"Try not to get too lonely while I'm gone," Tig said, ignoring her comment, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

The Native American woman snorted and rolled her eyes, "I'll try my hardest," she said sarcastically, watching as the two started their bikes up and headed down the road, disappearing into specks on the horizon. Kaya stood a few moments, staring off after them before she shook her head and turned back towards the trailers. She had guns to assemble and shipments to manage. They had to speed production up if they were going to keep selling to the Res Police and the Sons.