Author's Note: I promise I didn't abandon you all or this story. I could give you the usual excuses (in the process of moving, no internet at home, work is cray), but while they are legitimate, they're still excuses. But I'm only technically a week behind, right? Yeah, I know, that's still awhile. Anyway... I'll stop babbling. Per usual, thank you if you are taking the time to read/favorite/follow/review. It's always nice to have people take that sort of time. Special thank you to FuckMyLife1989, OnTheWildside, kripixx. I'll try not to have such a gap before I post chapter 13. I know that's how people get lost/lose interest.
Disclaimer: I have no claim to SOA, Opie, Tig, etc. Those rights belong to Kurt Sutter, Ryan Hurst, Kim Coates, etc. But thank you to them for bringing them to my life, ha. 'Madness' belongs to Muse, 'Closer' is Kings of Leon. All I can truly lay claim to is Shelby and Amber.
'Skies are blinking at me… I see a storm bubbling up from the sea… And it's coming closer...'
"A wagon?" Shelby asked, her gaze moving over the vehicle before shifting to Opie.
The biker shrugged, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his cut. "It's not getting used," he pointed out, being sure to avoid looking directly at the car. It had been sitting in the garage for over a month, under a tarp. The tank was still three quarters of the way full. Kenny's comic book and Ellie's sweater in the back. Donna's purse on the passenger seat because she had forgotten it when they decided last minute to switch vehicles.
The brunette chewed her lower lip, leaning against the wall of the garage. "You sure? I mean, I don't want to put you out or anything…"
Opie lit his cigarette before tucking the pack and the lighter back in his cut. "Like I said, it's not getting used." He blew smoke to the side. "Plus I have my bike and my truck, it's not like I'm gonna need it." He extended the key to her and gave a half smile.
Shelby sighed and took the key, tucking it in her pocket. "Well, thank you," she replied, her other hand fiddling with the ends of her scarf. "I promise I'll figure something out, some way to pay you back for this."
He shook his head. "Seriously, don't worry about it. If I needed it, I would have figured something else to help you out."
She gave him a nod. "Okay," she relented. "I really do appreciate this, Opie."
He replied with a grunt as he finished his cigarette. He dropped it to the ground, crushing it with his heel, and glanced over at her. "You want a drink or something?" he asked, gesturing towards the house.
"That would be great," she replied, giving him a smile.
He settled his hand on her lower back, guiding her into the house to the kitchen. He approached the refrigerator. "Anything in particular?" he asked, looking over his shoulder.
She gave a shrug. "I'm good with water."
He nodded, grabbing a bottle and tossing it over to her before picking out his own, ignoring the voice that told him he wanted a beer instead. He shut the fridge and turned towards her, leaning against the counter. He watched her carefully as she took a swallow of the liquid, noticing that she seemed to avoid looking directly at him. "So, you and Tig, huh?" he finally asked, taking a drink.
Shelby's eyes darted over at his question as she swallowed hard, suddenly nervous, her eyes wide with surprise. "What does that mean?" she rasped, screwing the cap back on the water before wiping her mouth on the back of her hand.
He raised an eyebrow. "You were in the garage with him," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest, tapping the bottle against his side. "You don't need to get so defensive."
"I was waiting for you, he just happened to be there," she retorted, walking over to the kitchen table and straddling a chair. "Don't start rumors, Op, you're better than that."
Opie's lips twitched beneath his beard. He stayed quiet as his gaze travelled over her, taking a sort of inventory. She was so tense, but it was clearly a subconscious tension, a sort of second nature, almost as though she was constantly waiting for the bottom to fall out. Her feet strapped into a pair of worn sandals, her skirt riding higher on her thighs as she sat. Her shirt clung to her curves, a scarf tight around her throat. "Little warm for that, isn't it?" He gestured at her throat.
Shelby blinked and glanced down, her fingers gently tugging at the tassels at the end of her scarf. "Sometimes fashion isn't comfortable," she replied, her green eyes finally meeting his as she gave him a smirk.
He forced a chuckle, tossing his bottle in the sink and taking a seat across from her at the kitchen table, his hands folded in front of him. "Wouldn't know anything about that," he admitted.
"No kidding," she teased. "And you're one to talk about unseasonable accessories." She stood, reaching over to give his skullcap a light tug. "Think you were born in this thing."
The bearded man let out an honest laugh at her teasing. "Keeps my hair out of my face," he replied.
She shot him a look, taking another sip of water. "How long is your hair these days?" she asked, cocking her head to the side as she plopped back down in her chair.
He reached up, pulling the cap off his head, letting his hair tumble down. He shook his head, the locks falling to his chin. "Answer that question?"
"Holy shit, Op, you're a Goddamn hippie," she crowed, a grin spread over her face. "When's the last time you got that shit cut? Hell, when was the last time you had a trim on that nest on your chin?"
His eyebrows shot up and he gave her a look. "You got jokes now, lady?" he replied, pushing himself up from his chair and walking over to her. "Take it back," he warned, standing over her, resting a hand on the back of her seat.
She smirked up at him, crossing her legs at the knee. "How 'bout you make me, big shot?" she replied.
Opie narrowed his eyes before reaching down and grabbing her, throwing her over his shoulder, laughing as he heard her squeal. "You asked for it," he told her, walking into the living room as she punched at his back.
"Opie, put me down! I'm in a skirt!" she shrieked, letting out a grunt as he tossed her on the couch, grinning down at her. "You are honestly 12," she told him, smoothing her clothes.
He chuckled and fell onto the couch at her feet. "You started it," he replied, giving a shrug.
Shelby shoved herself to her elbows and stuck her tongue out at him. "See? Total child."
"Holy shit, Shel, what happened?"
She blinked in confusion before glancing down, realizing her scarf had come loose. She moved her hand to her throat, trying to cover the now obvious wound.
Opie reached out, his fingers curling around her wrist and pulling her hand away. He moved closer, the fingers of his other hand ghosting over the cut. "Who did this?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm.
The brunette swallowed, trying to pull herself from his grasp, her stomach clenching at his closeness. "It's just a scratch, Opie, nothing to worry about," she murmured.
His eyes narrowed and shifted to meet her. He was so close he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes, feel her breath on his lips. "Who did this, Shelby?" he pushed, his voice quiet.
Her heart was pounding in her chest, her mind racing… She couldn't tell him what had happened with Tig, he would never understand. "You don't know him," she finally replied, lowering her lashes. "Please let me go…"
Opie's fingers flexed over her skin, her wrist still tight in his grasp. He lifted her chin before gently pulling the scarf away, his eyes widening as he took in the faded bruising marring her flesh. "Jesus Christ," he whispered. His fingers trailed over the marks and he felt her shiver. "This the boyfriend you told me about? The one on the title?"
"I don't want to talk about this," she replied, shaking her head.
He looked at her in disbelief, finally releasing her wrist to grasp her hand. "Shelby, he's hurting you."
She met his gaze and swallowed. "Opie, let it go, okay?" She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I promise you, I'm fine."
He watched her as she rewrapped the scarf around her neck, avoiding his gaze as she tried to move away and put space between them. "You need to talk to me," he finally told her as she moved to the other end of the couch. "I need you to talk to me…"
Shelby gave him a sad smile. "Opie, I don't need to be saved okay?" She shook her head, pushing herself off the couch. "I don't need you to save me…" She smoothed a hand over her hair and took a deep breath before pulling the key from her pocket. "I'm gonna go, I'll talk to you later…"
Opie watched her as she hurried out the door, not giving him time to voice a response or try to stop her. He leaned forward, rubbing a hand over his face, the image of her slashed and bruised throat at the forefront of his mind. He found himself at a loss, not sure what to do. He cared about that girl, he always had. Seeing that sort of physical damage, it made him sick and made him wonder who could do that to her, how they could stomach abusing someone like that.
"Tiggy."
He glanced over his shoulder, cutting off his flirtation with the croweater in front of him at the sound of his name. "What's going on, Clay?" he asked, as his old friend approached.
"Go," the President commanded the blonde, jerking his head to the side and smirking as she all but ran away.
"Man, I was thisclose to gettin' my dick sucked," Tig complained, watching her go. "You're straight cockblockin' me now, boss."
The older man shook his head. "That dick of yours will still be there to be mouthed later," he assured him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "And maybe this will make you feel better. Need you to do a run for me."
The curly haired man raised an eyebrow. "Where am I going?"
Clay smirked. "Need you to make a run out to Indian Hills, check in with Jury about our guns."
Tig's eyes lit up. "You mean I get to pick through his stable?"
He sobered at the stern look he received. "Work first, then you can have time to play," Clay warned. "I trust Jury, but I want one of our eyes to give it a look, make sure everything's in order. You'll catch things he'll never even think of."
The Sergeant nodded. "Am I taking a Prospect?"
Clay shook his head. "Nah, Happy's in town, figured he could make the ride with you before heading back to Tacoma."
Tig's eyes widened in surprise. "You're lettin' me and Hap go play unsupervised, dad?"
"Watch it," the older man growled, shoving his friend lightly. "I can send one of the others in your place."
The darker biker let out a chuckle. "I'll be good, promise."
Clay shook his head. "I don't think you know how to be good, my fucked up friend," he replied, giving him another clap on the shoulder. "Give Happy a call, find out where he is and then get him here so you can head out. Time is money."
Tig nodded as his president gave him one last look before making his way out of the clubhouse. He grinned when he contemplated his luck. Things were just becoming too easy for him when it came to his Shelby problem. Not only was she dropping herself into his lap, now he was being sent back to her old stomping grounds. He'd figure out what that little girl was hiding in no time.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his pre-pay and flipping it open as he made his way back to his dorm. He scrolled through the recent calls before landing on what he remembered to be Happy's number, clicking the button to make the call. As it connected, he lifted the plastic to his ear, settling on the bed..
"What?" Happy's rasp snapped through the receiver, his voice seeming almost strangled.
"Aww, baby, I ain't interruptin' you am I? I get mighty jealous," Tig teased, leaning back on his hand.
The other man chuckled and Tig heard him tell someone to leave, followed by the rustling of clothes. "Sup, killah?" he finally greeted, his voice calmer.
"You hear we're takin' a field trip?" he asked, giving the blonde from earlier a wink as she appeared in his doorway.
"Nevada, right?" There was a shuffling and a clatter as the phone was put on speakerphone. "You need a baby-sitter."
Tig let out a scoff as the blonde approached him slowly. "Fuck you, brother, you're just lucky you get to go."
Happy let out a gruff chuckle. "When are you trying to head out?"
"Depends where you are," he replied, running a hand through the blonde's locks, guiding her to her knees as her hands worked on his belt.
"Gimme 20, gotta finish my stress relief."
Tig chuckled, his jeans being tugged down his hips and he let out a hiss as his cock came into view. "I hear that brother." He flipped the phone shut, bringing his focus to the croweater between his legs. "That's it," he purred, his fingers tightening in her locks as her mouth closed over him. "Just one for the road…"
