The sun shone brightly as late morning hit the little farmhouse on the outskirts of Charming . . . and Tig groaned, rolling over and away from the sunlight that flitted through the cheer curtains over the arched windows. Jesus, the sun was bright . . . He sighed, settling back into the plethora of pillows and covers, pulling the curved and warm body back into his chest and he drifted back to sleep. Only to bolt back awake as he realized that he was not in his own bed. And he definitely didn't usually wake up with anyone beside him. All of the Croweaters and sweet butts and the random pieces of pussy got used and sent on their way . . .

He looked down, actually surprised to see Ripley, nude and smiling softly in her sleep, cuddled against his chest. He reached out, barely pushing her curls out of her face. Slowly, the memories of the day before played through his brain as he settled back against the pile of pillows and the headboard. He shifted, watching her nuzzle deeper into him before settling back into a deep sleep. Dear God . . . they had actually . . .

He ran a hand over his face, waiting for the sense of dread to fall over him. And the mourning for all of his freedom slowly slipping away. But nothing came. Only a deep sense of relief and peace moved through him as he listened to the birds outside and Ripley's quiet, contented breathing as she dreamed against him. His hands found their way to her hair, slowly twirling the golden tresses over his fingers as he closed his eyes again. It had been so long since he'd done this, a normal morning after a truly amazing night of soul quaking sex that he was almost afraid it wasn't real. That any moment he'd wake up and be back in his apartment or at the Club.

Ripley sighed, bringing his eyes down to her. He had been totally right. The girl had a freak flag almost as big as his . . . though he could honestly say not anywhere near as perverse as some of the things he'd tried in his lifetime, she was not afraid of being open and downright kinky in the bedroom with him. And he knew that he would never find a more satisfying lay in his life. All of the confidence he'd seen peeking through in their arguments had been on display as he'd fucked her senseless, tempered with just enough of that sweet and tender side he'd felt when she'd tried to take care of him to drive him batshit crazy. He'd lost count of how many times they'd fucked-though that huge tub of hers was now one of his favorite places in the world-but he had savored every second.

And they'd agree to just let this happen and see where it went. No talk of Old Lady Status and ink, no huge plans of commitment other than what they wanted, and no jealous freak outs over Club norms. Tig had been surprised to hear the last . . . until she'd warned him that anything he could do she would do better. So every Croweater he bedded would be met with a man-or woman, and dear God he so wanted to explore that at least once- to match it. If he was fine with that so was she.

Tig had agreed last night, eager to bury his head back between her thighs and make her mewl in pleasure again . . . and now, in the light of day he knew he would keep to it. But he did not want anyone else in this bed between her legs. The thought of her spread out calling anyone's name but his-and to hear her lust laden whispers of "Alex" had been a righteous religious experience all in their own- sent waves of cold, dark rage through him. If he fucked a Croweater, then she could fuck whoever else she wanted. And he'd kill the motherfucker afterwards . . .

He sighed, closing his eyes again. He might as well enjoy this comfortable bed and the feeling of her against him for as long as he could . . . because when she woke up, they were going to test out that shower of hers. Then they were going to eat.


Jax pulled into Ripley's driveway, glaring at the other black Dyna parked beside her Chevelle like it belonged there. He rolled his eyes, killing his engine before taking off his helmet. Opie pulled in beside him, eyeing the other bike with unveiled interest and disbelief. Ope had been there when Tig had pulled his craziness but he'd been oddly quiet about it. Then again as crazy as he'd been acting lately it shouldn't have been surprising. Donna's death had been a toll on him . . . and now he was pushing deeper and deeper into the Club to handle the loss. He knew Stahl had set them all up, played all of them for fools, and had been a bigger man than even Jax could've been if it'd been Tara.

He'd even talked with Tig after the Sgt at Arms had let him pretty much beat in his face. Jax shook his head, looking up to the house as he dug out the extra house key he'd yanked from his Mom. He might know Tig's loyalty to the Club was infinite but he did not want the man anywhere near Ripley if he could help it. Especially with the way he kept looking at her. The night in the morgue seemed like a lifetime ago but he'd seen the interest in Tig's eyes when Ripley had covered up the corpses and showed Opie where to sit. After that, he'd pretty much dismissed her, barely interacting with her at all . . . but his eyes gave him away. He watched her when she was at the Club and he always knew where she was. And, he always seemed to drown himself in beer and pussy when she wouldn't try to get him to speak after her initial greetings-in favor of talking with Juice or him and Opie. Like a jealous kid denied his favorite toy so someone else could play.

Jax sighed, motioning to the house as he started towards the door. He didn't care if the man was here to apologize or hand her twenty four carat gold key to the fucking Club. He was dragging Tig Trager out of his sister's house . . . or he was going to kill him.


Opie nodded to Jax, adjusting his beanie before following. Rolling his eyes. Clay had said to call Tig in, Trammel had another body and wanted them to see it before Lodi got there to fuck everything up . . . but when Gemma had let it slip that Tig had gone out there to apologize for the way the two had been with one another since the deal with the Long beach crew . . . Jax had flipped.

Clay had, of course, ordered him to stay out of it and let the two of them handle it like adults. And Opie had silently agreed. He would never fully condone Tig for what happened with Donna . . . but he understood the reasons behind it now that some of the pain had landed and settled. He loved SAMCRO. Just like the others did . . . and Stahl had decided to play a dangerous game with dangerous men. And his Donna paid the price for it. Tig had just been trying to protect the Club, Clay and all of the others by following orders . . . and the emotional breakdown the man seemed to have suffered for the past few months had helped him see that maybe there was more to the Sgt. At Arms than a cold killing machine.

Well, that and the way he kept going on with Ripley. It was the closest Opie had seen to the old Tig in nine months . . . and they only saw it when she was around. But of course, Jax wasn't going to let that go. He felt too responsible for the girl to let her and Tig get too close. Even if it was what she wanted. And Opie knew, from the sideway glances and tiny blushes that it was. He personally was wondering just how long it would take them to realize it.

He sighed, watching Jax unlock the door and start looking around. Nothing looked out of place in the living room and dining room. The only oddity was Tig's cut carefully folded and lay on the largest sofa just by the door. Jax turned back, brow raised as Opie shrugged. It wasn't uncommon for them to shed a cut in the house of a friend . . . but where were they?

A quick inspection of the downstairs showed that, while the office was slightly messy and papers were scattered all over the floor, nothing else was wrong. Jax stepped out back, coming back in with a clearly confused look on his face.

"There's no one out back . . ."

Opie shrugged again, a little worried as they looked to the closed bathroom door. Ripley could be upstairs and Tig could be behind that door. Jax stepped forward, tapping on the white door before pushing it open. They could hear the faintest sounds of running water but the bathroom was empty. Both men looked up before sharing a look and heading for the steps.


As they climbed the steps, taking two and three at a time, Jax pulled his gun from his pants. Clicking the safety off and chambering a round as he ducked low to the wooden stairs before moving out and into the seating are. The area was half the size of the den downstairs and carpeted, with the white couch. The window let the sun stream in and bask the room in warmth and light . . . illuminating it to show no Tig and no Ripley. Jax knew Ripley preferred to sit and do minor casework up here rather than in her office . . .

Opie moved around him, going to the slightly open bedroom door and nudging it open to peek inside. He bed was unmade and a few dark clothes were on the floor closest to the bathroom. But no signs of struggle or any trouble. Just steam and light billowing out from under the closed bathroom door. Opie sighed, shaking his head as he moved to open the door . . . only to shut it almost as quickly as he'd opened it.

Jax looked at him, eyes narrowed.

"What? Is she in there?"

Opie nodded then shrugged mouth open and moving but no sound coming out. Jax, finally frustrated pushed past him and opened the door wide. And thought he was about to die.

Ripley's massive shower was indeed going and she was in it. But she was far from alone. There, behind the slightly fogged and dripping glass of the shower stall, was Tig, buried between Ripley's spread legs as he thrust into her fast and hard. Ripley's legs were wrapped around his waist, resting on his hips as her head lulled back against the tile. Tig's mouth was working furiously over the exposed flesh of her neck, leaving a trail of angry red bites that Jax could see from across the room. But each pass of his teeth and thrust of his hips brought another little mewl from Ripley's parted lips. Just like each movement of her hands or arch of her back brought these animalistic growls from the Sgt. At Arms.

Jax closed his eyes, opening them again to see not only was this very real but that Tig's mouth had moved from her neck up her jaw to assault her lips. Jax turned, all but fleeing the room and shutting the door hard. Opie had slid to the floor and his shoulders were shaking as he covered his eyes with his hands. This was not good. This was not good at all.


Opie had come to his senses, biting back his laughter and accepting the fact that he owed Chibs $500, before dragging Jax down the steps and into Ripley's kitchen. He knew that seeing them like that had been shocking . . . but with the way Tig had reacted over the boost and then to Juice's lunch proposal . . . what had they expected? The man was a stone cold killer . . . not a fucking idiot. And that's exactly what he would have to be to ignore or reject Ripley's interest. Especially when he wholeheartedly returned it.

Opie crossed to the fridge, grabbing a beer and opening it draining half before he got another for Jax. He closed his eyes, trying to ward off the sight that was burned there. He might've seen this coming but he in no way ever wanted to see it in the flesh. Ripley was like a sister to him-always had been-and despite the crush Jax had on her when they were eight, he knew his longtime friend felt the same. And though Opie was okay with what was happening-as okay as he got anyway-he could see from Jax's darkening face that he wasn't. At all.

Jax hopped up on the counter, taking long drinks from his beer before looking to Opie with this hang-dog look. Oh Lord . . . here it comes.

"What in the fuck was that?"

Opie shrugged, taking another drink as they heard the water above them stop. He idly wondered if they even knew they had company before smirking. If they didn't this was going to be fun to watch. He turned to Jax, schooling his face to a neutral expression before deciding to have some fun at his best friend's expense. Jax really did need to lighten up about all of this . . . if Clay and Gemma were cool then he needed to go ahead and get on board.

"Fucking from what I could see, Brother. And apparently very good fucking at that."

Jax glowered, opening his mouth to rebut his friend as they heard footfalls on the steps. Opie smirked, pushing off to meet Ripley as she walked into the kitchen, clad only in a very short white cotton robe. The front was loosely tied, allowing a large portion of her chest and neck to be seen . . . as well as very conspicuous bruise on her collarbone that looked an awful lot like teeth marks. Her hair was damp, already curling as it dried. Her face was practically glowing while her flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips just made her seem even more sated. She looked up, jumping as she noticed them in her kitchen before pulling her robe tighter around her. Her cheeks turned crimson as her hands went to cover the mark exposed near her shoulder.

"What are you guys doing here? Is something wrong?"

Jax fumed, stepping closer as Ripley actually took a step back. This was not what needed to happen here.

"What are we doing, Rip? Christ. What are you doing! What the hell are you thinking?"

Opie shook his head, going to step around Jax as Tig rounded the corner into the kitchen.

"Hey Babe? You know where my shirt went? I see the Cut but no damn shirt-"

Dressed only in his jeans with a towel around his shoulders. And very self-satisfied grin on his lips. He stopped short as he saw them, then the smirk turned smug, almost overly cocky as he reached out and pulled Ripley back against him. His chin rested in the curve of her shoulder, his eyes locking solely on Jax as he kissed the hand over the spot he'd bitten before. His left hand splayed across her belly, holding her flush against him as his other came up and hooked under her crossed arms, resting right over her heart. And playing ever-so-slightly with the front of the robe she was wearing.

"Morning boys. What's up?"


Tig knew he had heard the door open when he'd been in the shower with Ripley . . . but he couldn't stop himself as she came around him. He'd finished up, coating her womb with his seed before he'd rinsed them both of and helped her out of the shower. And he'd set her on her counter and proceeded to lick away every last drop of her own orgasm. Which had led to another . . . by time he'd remembered why he'd cut their shower time delight short his face was glistening from her juices and she was gasping for breath so hard he knew she needed to rest. Poor baby had gone from the time he'd finally woke her up until now. And though he knew she would let him fuck her till his hearts content . . . he wanted her to savor every second. Besides, he was definitely hungry from something besides her tasty little snatch. Best to save that for desert anyway.

He'd pulled her down, kissing her soundly and having to keep himself in check when she didn't shy away. One thing he'd learned was that she was not afraid to kiss him after he gone down on her . . . a definite turn on. One that apparently came from the odd girlfriend she'd take occasionally. As he'd grabbed his jeans from the bedroom, he'd turned to see her slide a short little robe over her shoulders and tie it loosely before she started trying to towel dry her curls. Tig hadn't been able to help standing and watching her, amazed at the beauty and grace she practically oozed as she worked whatever girly hair shit through her tresses. When she grabbed a lotion bottle however, he'd been quick to sling his jeans up and come investigate.

He watched as she smoothed the lotion over her skin, inhaling deeply as she worked it into the abused flesh of her neck. It wasn't a perfume that smelled like that . . . it was her fucking body lotion. Oh God, he would smell like that later . . . his dick was going to stay hard . . .

"What is that?"

She'd turned, brow raised before showing him, letting him sniff the stuff. Black currant, patchouli and amber with white lily and pomegranate. No wonder he and the boys hadn't been able to place it. He dipped, kissing the skin lightly as she giggled, trying to get away as he ran his nose over her pulse point. He liked the smell of it in the bottle . . . but he loved the smell of it on her. Finally, she sighed, sinking back into his arms as he held her. When Tig looked up and caught their reflection in the mirror he was shocked. He and his ex-wife had always looked at odds-even when they got along. Both of them were too dark and too harsh around the edges-though in different ways- to ever blend well. Even family pictures ended up looking like a warzone. But Ripley fit against him and was just enough his opposite to look at home in his grasp. Their light colored eyes made both seem darker, though she was paler by far . . . making her seem delicate with her overly feminine features and curves and golden blonde curls. He smirked against her skin. She was his for the time being and he would savor the perks he saw reflected back to him in the glass.

He kissed her again, pulling a tiny bit of skin in his teeth and tugging, earning him a gasp and a jerk of her hips. His girl loved to bite . . . a good thing since he was partial to it himself.

"Let's go get something to eat . . . okay Doll?"

She nodded, leaning over to nip at his jaw. God she was too quick a study for him to hide anything.

"Sure. My jeans are downstairs in the dryer . . . and I have some tees that need to be put away. I'll go grab them and get dressed. Where do you want to go?"

He shrugged, letting her go and heading towards his phone and wallet.

"Doesn't matter, Babe. So long as you're happy and we can come back and keep going."

Ripley laughed, shaking her head.

"Well then, I'll put on my boots and we can just take your bike, Tigger. Maybe go for a ride . . ."

He nodded, looking for his keys. That sounded very promising . . . especially since he knew a secluded place where they could get in a little outdoors fun if he played his cards right. He heard her leave as he spotted his keys. But when he reached to get them, his phone vibrated. He stood up, checking the screen and grimacing. Great, just what he needed. The Harpy. She must've felt his joy and wanted to suck it away.

He answered, knowing not to would only cause strife he didn't need. Especially with the girls wanting to visit.

"Yes Allison?"

"Well you finally answer. I've only called you seven times since last night, Alex. And why aren't you at work? Stupid bitch Gemma said you took a personal day."

Tig rolled his eyes, willing thoughts of Ripley's legs around his waist into his head to calm himself. If this kept up, he'd go find her and see if she would blow him again while he talked . . . he shuddered. Damn the girl really did know her way around a cock.

"I needed to take care of some things. The girls still coming down in a few weeks?"

Her irritable sigh made his heart stop. Before her words sent him into a frenzy. He'd kill the fucking bitch if he saw her too soon.

"Yes, Alex. They are. Actually that's why I'm calling. Paul is taking me on a three week cruise and the girls are going to stay with you. They refuse to stay with their Aunt."

Tig's mind went into overdrive. Jesus. His home was small, barely big enough for him. The girls were going to take his room while he'd taken the couch-same as they always did-but for three weeks? He'd go crazy or lame from sleeping on the couch. God the fucking bitch just didn't think sometimes. He growled, nodding as he spoke. He wouldn't disagree or he wouldn't get to see them. It's just the type of game Allison loved to play. And had before.

"That's fine. I'll make sure everything is ready. Anything else?"

She snorted, causing the urge to choke her to death to rise again.

"No, Alex. Nothing else. Just be ready. I'm dropping them off in two weeks."

And with that the line went dead. Oh if he ever got to hit that woman he'd kill her . . . He growled, shoving the phone in his pocket before doing the same with his keys. Fuck this. He needed to go eat. Then get back to this monster bed and see just what all his new little lover would actually do.

When Tig had come down the steps, he knew Ripley knew where his shirt ended up. The damn girl had savaged it off of him on their way through to her office. He shuddered, smirking. He knew they wouldn't make it up stairs and the couches just screamed teenage fuck fest. But bending her over that desk, scattering paper everywhere had been the brightest idea he'd had so far. And it crossed off one of the things he'd always wanted to do. Now he just needed to get her to wear one of her skirts and those glasses of hers. With a nice pair of shiny leather stilettos. He grinned, knowing what he was going to ask for when they got back.

He spotted his Cut, his smile softening as he remembered her picking it up and laying it on the couch on their way further into her house. God he'd found a good one. She knew what the Club meant and respected it. Almost more than even himself or Gemma. And she was his.

He crossed through her dining room, eyeing the table with a critical eye. It might support both of their weight but it was the perfect height to spread her across . . . He shook his head, chuckling. He felt like a damn teenager again. Maybe they would give her couches a go. And the back seat of her Chevelle.

"Hey Babe? You know where my shirt went? I see the Cut but no damn shirt-"

Tig stopped as he saw Jax and Opie, then felt his blood boil at Jax's look. Ripley took a step back and he pulled her into him, never taking his eyes off of Jax or letting the smile fall from his lips. The boy already had his own damn Doctor . . . and he needed to leave his alone. Tig leaned down to place his chin in the soft bend of Ripley's neck, loving the way she relaxed against him as he kissed the hand over the spot he'd bitten before. His left hand splayed across her belly, holding her flush against him as his other came up and hooked under her crossed arms, resting right over her heart. And playing ever-so-slightly with the front of the robe she was wearing.

"Morning boys. What's up?"

Jax's eyes darkened but Opie stepped forward, keeping the peace.

"Clay sent us. Trammel called. He found another girl. This one is worse than the first."

Ripley stiffened in his hold as Tig nodded, slowly rubbing her belly as he ran his check against her neck. He leaned in, whispering to her as he hugged her tighter.

"It'll be fine, Girl. We'll take care of it . . ." He looked up, speaking louder as he went to let her go.

"Go ahead and get dressed. After Trammel puts in the call you know they'll be calling you."

She nodded, shaking her head and grumbling as she turned to go and get ready.

"Yeah. So much for eating . . ."

Tig chuckled, watching her slip into her laundry room with a smile. But the second the door closed, he rounded on Jax. The VP glared back, eyes blazing as they stared at one another. "Enjoy the show earlier boys?"

"What the fuck are you doing, Tig? Huh? She isn't a Croweater or a sweet butt. She's family."

Tig huffed, smirking as he glared.

"Oh I know what she is, Jackie Boy. And I know how to handle it. Just leave it the fuck alone."

Jax growled, stepping closer.

"I won't let you hurt her."

Tig's smirk fell and from the look on Opie's face he knew that he had what Happy called his 'Killah' look. He stepped in closer, toe-to-toe with Jax as he glared at the boy. Clay wasn't going to have to kill him. He was.

"You say anything to her, Teller, anything that might even possibly make her doubt or worry and I will fucking destroy you. I'm not going to hurt her . . . but you are the one with a bad habit of fucking over the ones you try to protect."

Jax huffed; neither noticing Ripley stepping out of her laundry room in a pair of men's styled charcoal trousers and fitted black turtleneck with ¾ length sleeves, gray alligator heels in hand.

"Yeah? Well at least I'm not the one who has a habit of killing Old Ladies . . . or running 'em off and into the crack dens."


Ripley had never seen anyone glare as coldly at someone as Tig glared at Jax. His fists balled so tight his rings were cutting into his skin, causing blood to drip onto her floor. But he didn't take the swing. She stepped forward, ignoring Opie's warning glance as she came to stand in front of Jax. She didn't look to Tig, knowing his face was set in the same mask he'd worn around her since she'd moved. And after last night she didn't want to see it again. Jax looked down at her . . . and balked when she caught him straight in the lips with a hard upper cut. When he staggered she followed through with a hard left hook, knocking him flat on his ass.

Opie didn't move, looking torn between laughter and shock . . . and she didn't dare turn to Tig. Not yet. He needed to hear this first. She shook her hand, glaring down at Jax.

"Jackson Teller, you are like a brother to me. And I love you to absolute fucking death. But if you ever talk to him like that again-even if I'm not here- then I will beat you to a bloody pulp."

Jax glared up at her, struggling to stand.

"So that's it? One night and you're all gaga over him? Jesus Ripley do you know what he does? What he's done?"

She shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulders.

"He's killed, Jax. In the name of SAMCRO and his brothers. And probably his own demons. Just like my old man did. My dad was a good man, a good Son. And Tig hasn't done anything that my dad wouldn't have. Including following a direct order to assassinate an apparent traitor for the good of everyone else. Opie and I have talked about it, Jax. The hit went bad and things got jumbled. And it was a call your Old Man would've made just as easy as Clay did. Or Piney if it'd been the other way around. Because-at the time-it was for the good of the Club. And as for the rest, I don't give a fuck. I'm not perfect either Jax. And I'm not a fucking kid. So while I appreciate the concern . . . stay the fuck out of my life if all you're going to do is be self-righteous."

Jax glared turning and storming out. Opie sighed, hugging her and nodding to Tig before he followed. As he got to the door he stopped, calling over his shoulder.

"I know you're right, Rip. And so does he. That's one reason why he's so pissy about it. I don't think he could've made the call . . . I know I couldn't have. We'll go ahead. You guys follow when you're ready."

She nodded, turning to see Tig still staring at the door. She sighed, stepping closer until she laid her hand on his bare chest. His eyes cut to hers as his brows furrowed. After a few moments he chuckled, dipping to kiss her forehead.

"It's so easy to forget sometimes that you're the daughter of a Sgt . . . I guess you really do know what to expect, huh?"

She nodded, closing her eyes as he pulled her into his chest.

"My Pops did some hard shit for John . . . and later Clay. He never talked to Mom or Khail much about it but . . . I've always been detached about certain stuff, you know? Mom swore I took it from my biological father. Things that were messy and bloody didn't bother me so long as I could see reason to it. And when Pops needed to talk, I'd listen. I think he was afraid Mom wouldn't love him the same if she knew . . . but I loved him just the same. Same as with Piney, Bobby, Clay and John."

She looked up, kissing beneath his chin before continuing.

"I see the reason behind the bloodshed. Behind the way of the MC. Jax just . . . John always kept it hidden from him. Piney did from Ope too until he was older. Hell, until they were thirteen neither even knew their dads knew how to hold a gun, let alone shoot one. At thirteen I knew how to dissemble and clean a Desert Eagle blindfolded and reassemble it in less than five minutes. Not to mention shoot it."

Tig smirked, kissing her bangs again, just leaving his lips pressed against her hair.

"Remind me to never piss you off. Don't want to get shot again. Hurts like a bitch."

She snorted, rolling her eyes.

"Hate to tell you this Baby. But I shoot to kill. None of that winging bullshit Tara wanted Gemma to teach her."

He drew back, eyes narrowed as he looked her over. Suddenly, his eyes widened and he realized just what had always been so at odds about her. She moved so fluidly and seemed so damn fragile and indestructible at once. And now he had an idea why.

"Your Pops taught you to fight. To shoot and to ride too, right?"

She nodded, shrugging.

"He teach you to kill too Baby Girl?"

She cut her eyes to his, looking him over very carefully before shrugging her shoulders once and turning to grab her car keys from their spot on the wall.

"You ever ink me and I'll tell you the whole of it . . . But let's just say that there's a shallow grave near Lodi that I helped dig and fill."

Tig caught her arm, spinning her back to him suddenly very interested in what she was saying. And incredibly turned on by it. He knew he was fucked up . . . A woman who would stand up for him was hot . . . but a woman who knew how to kill-and would without hesitation-for him was worth every drop of ink and blood he'd spill to put the Crow on her.

"Who's grave?"

She smirked, turning to go towards the front door.

"The man who raped and killed my mother."