All characters, etc from Sons of Anarchy belong to Kurt Sutter.
The OC's are mine.
Any mistakes are my own. Feel free to point them out but please be nice
CHAPTER 14:
The property was perched on the cliffs overlooking the rolling ocean. It was insulated from the road and the rest of the world by a thick belt of shrubby woodland that tapered into a manicured lawn that surrounded the house. Ashleigh was navigating the intertwining shadows thrown by the trees in the light of the full moon, aided by the residual light from the house and the small lamps dotted around the grounds. She was gathering as much information as possible before deciding on her next move, when her foot hit something that was too soft to be a rock. Cursing herself for not having brought her night vision goggles she knelt down to see what she'd almost trodden on. At first her mind didn't want to comprehend what she was seeing, but there was no mistaking it. She picked up the severed hand and turned it palm down, tracing her fingers over the Marine Corps ring on the middle finger and the tattoo of a capital 'A' in cursive script between the thumb and forefinger. She wriggled out of her rucksack and gently wrapped the hand in a t-shirt before placing it carefully inside and returning the bag to her shoulders.
She moved forwards stealthily, one eye on the house and one eye now on the ground in front of her. She found several more body parts, some had belonged to Crash and some hadn't. She guessed that they had been scattered for the local wildlife to feast on. When she came across a torso she bit back a sob. Being a larger portion of body she could tell from the feel of it, even in the dark, that it hadn't been there so very long. The thought that she'd come so close to being able to save her friend from this brutal death made it difficult for her to breathe.
She ran her hand over the tattoo on the chest, painted in shades of grey by the moonlight. She traced the outline of the blue star, inlaid with a white star, with a red star at the centre. It was the same design that graced the main patch on all the Lone Star MC cuts. Ashleigh remembered all the times her fingers had roamed over this skin when the chest beneath it had risen and fallen with breath and thudded with the beat of his heart. Allowing herself a brief moment of regret she quickly pulled herself together. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to take the whole of his body back for his brothers to bury she quickly removed her rucksack again. Taking out the fabric role of instruments she removed a scalpel and, more by touch than by sight, skinned the tattoo from the body. She reverently folded the piece of flesh and wrapped it in the t-shirt with the hand. The blood had long since drained away in an unknown location. After tucking the bundle into her rucksack she removed the silencer for the Beretta before pulling her bag back onto her shoulders and screwing the silencer into the barrel of her gun.
Ashleigh rocked back on her haunches, her forearms on her knees, her forehead leaning on her clenched fists. She counted each inhalation and exhalation until the red mist of anger hardened into the icy rage she could embrace and utilise.
She made another two passes around the house, paying more attention to the layout and occupants. There didn't seem to be a large contingent of people, but that was alright; she only needed one or two to tell her what she needed to know. She wondered if interior designers would be interested in how easy they made her job sometimes by generally locating offices and dens on ground floors and gracing them with large windows. She identified the least visible access to the house, a small side door that looked to connect to the kitchen area.
Making sure that there were no eyes on her, she crossed the grass in a sprinting crouch and flattened herself against the wall next to the door, making sure to keep her breathing even and quiet. She reached out a hand and gently twisted the handle. The door opened under her touch, experience told her that this was not a good thing. Careful people rarely got stupid and stupid people were unpredictable and dangerous.
Ashleigh eased the door open and slid through the gap into the gloom of the kitchen, immediately dropping into a crouch. Holding the Beretta in her left, less dominant, hand she freed her kukri knife with her right hand. It was risky going in with her hands full like this, but it also gave her speedy options depending on what she encountered around each corner. She moved through the house like a deadly ghost, working her way to the den via circuitous routes. She killed silently, taking out as many people on the periphery as possible before confronting what were obviously the senior figures that she'd seen grouped casually around the desk in the office. She'd left the guards patrolling the grounds alive; she'd learnt that killing the people outside the building raised alarms quicker for some strange reason.
By her calculations there were only the three guards outside and the four men in the den left. She paused by the door to the den, embracing the adrenalin coursing through her and readying herself for the odds of four to one. She thought that her mind, focused as it was, must be playing tricks on her. She was sure that for a fleeting instant she'd heard the sound of Harley engines. Ashleigh's only thought when she felt the cold metal of the gun muzzle at her temple was that if she survived, she was never, ever going to live this down with Happy.