A/N: Thanks to those still reading. While how this plays out in terms of the main story is all mapped out, some strands are still up in the air, especially around the exact role some of the Sons will play in the lives of Jenn and Lexie ... It'd be lovely to hear your thoughts! T x

PS: I haven't written this much Tig in a very long time, even though I love his character. He's a tough one to try to get right. Hopefully I'm not totally sucking at it!

Fourteen

Glancing over at the young woman in the passenger seat of Gemma's huge Escalade, Tig considered trying to break the awkward silence, but ended up thinking the better of it and turning his attention back to the road. She was still in his thoughts though, no matter how much he tried to shake them off.

He had to give it to the girl – she really must be every inch the tough little bitch Kozik had always vouched for. For all the hell she'd been through, she was still standing. Just about. He knew grown men who couldn't have come out the other side of the kinda shit she'd dealt with. Drugs, prison, abuse …

And he could guess how bad things must have been. After all, he'd been the one to prise that gun from her hand in the seconds after she'd been pushed to the point of finishing the piece of shit she called a husband. And she wasn't the type to pull that kinda stunt on a whim. He'd seen the terror it had taken to get her there. She'd been terrified for her life. For Lexie's life.

Fresh guilt washed over him in waves and his hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He'd treated her badly enough in the past, he knew that, no matter how much Koz had protested and tried to defend her. He'd been the one who had finally convinced her to cut ties with his brother and he'd terrorised her to do it. But now he had something else to top all that.

He'd realised as soon as they'd first found her at that dive where she worked just how badly she was hurting, and it wasn't just the bruises. The way she carried herself, something in those eyes that hadn't been there even when she'd been fighting addiction … He'd known straight away that the beating had been brutal – and that it hadn't been the first. And he'd still sent her back to the asshole responsible. That was on him.

Chibs had seen it too and the big-hearted Scot had wanted to take her with them there and then. Even Happy would have fallen in with that. But, oh no, Tig had just delivered her right back into her own personal hell.

And look how well that had worked out.

That bastard may have deserved a bullet, and fuck knows he'd probably have ended up on the receiving end of one anyway, but this way … This way, the girl would always be haunted by what she had done. Tig, as his own demons could testify, knew that better than most.

Yeah, it was still very early days and the pale face and dark shadows beneath those green eyes were only to be expected at this point. But it was going to take a hell of a lot of strength to ever truly get past the nightmares and sleepless nights. And, right now, he wasn't sure she had enough fight left in her for that.

"It ain't far," the grim-faced sergeant said suddenly, his eyes still fixed on the road and the words escaping before he even realised. "Ain't trying to get you out of the way either, before you go thinking it. Just thought a clubhouse full of booze and broads and assholes like us maybe ain't the kinda place you want a little girl."

"I get it," Jenn said softly, her head resting against the window as she gazed out into the growing dusk before finally shifting to look at him. "And I do appreciate it. I … I was just surprised you wanted to help me. I guess I shouldn't have been – not when you've been so good to Lexie already."

"Sweet kid," Tig admitted, sharp blue eyes glancing at the kid in the rear-view mirror and letting the ghost of a smile tug at his lips to see her still out for the count. "Must have worn herself out running around with Abel."

Her mother simply nodded, fresh tears sparkling in her eyes, although she blinked them back hastily. And then they were pulling into the driveway of a little house with an overgrown yard and the moment had passed.

"I'll bring the kid, you get the bags," Tig said gruffly, though he almost winced himself to see the pain it caused her trying to climb down from the passenger's side. "Shit, wait. I said wait!"

He hurried round to her side of the car to help, but it was too late. She'd paled even more as soon as her feet hit the ground and, at the stifled gasp of pain, swayed unsteadily. He caught her just in time to stop her collapsing to the ground, scooping her up bridal style with a curse.

All he could do was struggle to get the door unlocked with her unconscious in his arms, get her inside and deposited on the couch, and then jog back outside to get Lexie, only to find she had woken up and, rubbing sleepily at her eyes, was on the verge of crying out in fear at having found herself all alone.

"Hey now, baby," Tig murmured soothingly, lifting her out of Abel's car seat as her lower lip wobbled and cradling her against his shoulder. "It's okay. Your Uncle Tig's here. And your mom's right inside, just having a little nap. C'mon, princess, let's go see her, huh?"

He'd had every intention of leaving them to it and heading back to the clubhouse, where he could be sure to spend a hassle-free night satisfying all his baser desires. But how could he leave the kid when he couldn't be sure her mom was in any fit state to look after her?

Thankfully, the three-year-old was familiar enough with him already to have settled easily enough and now snuggled up to him despite her shyness, her little arms going tightly around his neck in an unspoken show of trust that touched the biker more than he would have liked to admit. He pressed a quick kiss to her temple, rueing in that instant every missed opportunity with his own twin daughters, before carrying her inside.

He'd failed everyone he'd ever given a shit about, but if this was the last good thing he could do for Kozik, then he was determined he would fucking do it.

Sprawled on his back on the couch, one arm tucked behind his head, Tig stared upwards through the darkness. It had to be two, maybe three in the morning and yet sleep had never seemed so far away. Although that wasn't strictly true. He'd had his share of sleepless nights over the years.

Most of the time, he'd have succumbed to his usual vices and either drank himself into oblivion or at least made the most of the time with some choice company. That was definitely one of the perks of staying at the clubhouse. No patch ever had to spend the night alone, not unless they wanted to, and who'd want to when they could be getting their dick wet instead?

But this wasn't the clubhouse and he didn't even have a bed right now, let alone anyone to share it with. Well, technically, he had a bed. It was just taken. And sharing with its occupants definitely wasn't an option. Jenn had been unsure. Some shit about imposing. But hey, he wasn't a complete asshole. He wasn't going to make the girl, and especially not her little kid, crash on the couch. Even if it wasn't the greatest fit ever for his larger frame to stretch out on. Not that it would have been any better for Jenn right now, not with her injuries.

She'd refused his offer to call either Tara or Chibs though. Always had been a stubborn bitch – that much he definitely remembered. Still, he supposed he could hardly say too much about her refusal to take the edge off. Hell, he was probably part of the reason, given his past reactions to any lapse in her then tenuous sobriety.

Anyway, he was fine with sleeping downstairs, or not as the case may be, for tonight. He'd crashed in worse places. Way worse. Meanwhile, Jenn – still obviously embarrassed to have passed out on him – had finally given in to sleep out of sheer exhaustion, curled up under his sheets next to her little daughter. Tomorrow …He'd head back to the clubhouse tomorrow. Leave them to it when they'd had a night to settle in. He supposed he'd have to get used to the idea of having lodgers of sorts for a few weeks. Just until Jenn got back on her feet and sorted something more permanent …

"You fucking owe me, shithead," he muttered under his breath to his fallen brother, dashing a hand over his suddenly damp eyes and swearing softly to himself. The fuck was wrong with him? He'd been a goddamn Marine, so had Koz. They knew what it was to lose brothers. Way of the goddamn world. You just had to get your shit in check and get on with it.

His burner ringing on the coffee table jerked him out of his mess of thoughts and straight into sergeant mode and he grabbed it, more concerned for club shit going down than the prospect of waking the girls. Although that did flicker into his mind as an afterthought.

"What's up?" he demanded.

"Cops found a body," Clay said, from the other end of the line. "Have the girl working at TM in the morning. Unser's gonna come for her. Break the news, so to speak."

"Will do, boss," Tig said, nodding even though he couldn't be seen. The wheels of their plan were in motion and with any luck, this would all blow over in a few days. The worst of it anyway. "I'll-"

The scream from upstairs cut him dead and he almost dropped the phone. "Motherfucker!"

"Tig? Tig! What the fuck's going on?" the SAMCRO president demanded, but his sergeant couldn't hear him as he raced for the bedroom, taking the stairs two at a time, the phone clenched in one hand and his gun drawn in the other.

Bursting wild-eyed into the bedroom, all manner of horrors running through his mind, he found the redhead trembling and crying as she tried to soothe the little girl she'd clearly terrified with her scream, apologies stumbling to her lips as her gaze met his.

"I … I thought … I must have been dreaming … I'm sorry. Oh, Lexie, sweetie, I'm so sorry," she tried, tears flowing down her flushed cheeks.

"Jesus," Tig sighed, half exasperated and half relieved as he lowered his piece and lifted the phone to his ear again. "Clay? False fucking alarm."

Ending the call, he eyed his guests dubiously, at a loss for what the hell he was supposed to do. He was starting to regret getting involved in this clusterfuck at all and quickly decided he'd have definitely preferred some kind of actual threat to this bullshit. At least that way, he'd have gotten down to taking care of business. Kicked some ass, or shot some fucker up. Neutralised the situation. Vastly preferable to standing in the doorway of his own fucking bedroom with his thumb up his ass, feeling like a spare part.

And it didn't help having his dead brother's broad sat on his bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt that wasn't actually, from the way it was riding high up her thighs and clinging to her ass, all that oversized at all. Although the neck did dip low enough to reveal way more cleavage than he'd been expecting to see tonight …

Tight little bad-girl dancer …

Chibs' words drifted unbidden through his mind and, Jesus Christ, he tried to mentally check himself.

Shit. Here she was, sobbing over … Fuck knows what exactly. It wasn't like she didn't have plenty to choose from, between the dead husband who'd beat her black and blue and the dead lover who hadn't been there to save her. She was a goddamn mess. A mess with a three-year-old kid at that. And he was staring at her tits.

He was going straight to hell.

But then he'd always suspected that.