Undisclosed Desires

by Carrot Top

When two FBI agents go missing in Charming, Agent Dana Bradshaw is given the most challenging case of her life. She must go undercover, infiltrate SAMCRO, and find out if they are behind the disappearances. Yet as the investigation proceeds she finds herself not only struggling with a growing attraction for one of her prime suspects...(Full summary inside)

14. Dirty Thirty

This chapter is SO LONG, even I'm flabbergasted by it. But I simply did not have the heart to break this chapter up. So if you're not a fan of super long chapters I apologize in advance. It's very unlikely I'll do any more chapters this long, except for maybe toward the end. Also, everyone take note of the fact that I have bumped this story from T to M. Because…reasons.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to SOA.

Warning: Raunchiness ahead.

---

Dirty Thirty

Jackson Teller was not having a good day. And it wasn't even noon yet.

As an automated voice sounded in his ear, "You have reached the voicemail of…", Jackson cursed loudly and nearly threw his phone against the wall out of pure frustration. He'd been trying to get ahold of that dipshit Darby since he'd left Church, but so far the guy had been unreachable. He wasn't sure if the man had intentionally dropped off the face of the planet or if the lazy fuck just hadn't woken up yet, but either way, he was starting to get seriously pissed that their supposed 'ally' wasn't returning his calls. If Darby was supposed to be looking out for SAMCRO and keeping them up to date on any trouble coming their way, then why hadn't they been warned about the drive-by the night before? Jackson wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

With a sigh, Jackson clicked the phone shut and leaned his forehead against it for a moment, sucking in a deep breath through his nose to calm himself and then heavily releasing it. He then tossed the phone onto the dark-wood table in Clay and Gemma's kitchen with a loud clatter and plucked up his cigarette from the ashtray, taking a long drag from it.

It had been a long ass night, and so far, it was shaping up to be an even longer day. He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before, having spent the majority of the night at the clubhouse with his brothers, trying to figure out just what in the fuck had happened and how they hadn't seen it coming. They'd all been on edge, especially so because Opie, Juice, and Bobby had been gone for a long time. The trio had finally returned around three thirty in the morning, though, and, thankfully, without any injures on their part.

There had been a lot they'd needed to discuss, but after the night they'd had, they'd all agreed it was in everyone's best interest to save the conversation for the morning and go home to get some much needed sleep. Yet upon returning to Clay and Gemma's, he'd been so wired and so paranoid that sleep had been impossible. He'd ended up posting up in a chair in the room his mother had made for Abel in her own home, his gun close by as he guarded his sleeping son, his ears open and constantly listening out for any sound outside that might mean danger was headed their way. Even when he did finally manage to drift off to sleep sometime around five, it was anything but peaceful. He slept lightly and jumped awake at any little noise outside, reaching for his gun each time, only relaxing again when he was certain nothing was happening.

Jackson ashed his cigarette in the tray, took another drag, then reached up to rub his tired eyes as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke. He felt like he could use about two days' worth of sleep right now, and he was sure he looked it too. It was why Clay had sent him back home the minute he'd gone to the clubhouse that morning, even though there was work to be done and questions that still needed answering. You look like you're about to keel over, son, Clay had said as soon as he'd seen him walking up looking like a zombie. You should go home and get some sleep. You're no good to us half-dead. Jackson had tried to argue and say that there was too much on the club's plate to not help out, but Clay hadn't been hearing any of it. Get some sleep, then join us again in a few hours. That's an order, son.

So now here he was, sitting around his mother's house while his brothers were out there trying to figure out just who in the hell was responsible for the cluster-fuck of events the night before. Judging by where Juice, Bobbie, and Opie had been led on the wild goose chase the night before and through sheer process of elimination, they figured it was either the Calaveras or the Mayans. And since the Calaveras usually answered to Marcus Alvarez, there was a better chance that it was the Mayans behind it all. Just so he wouldn't feel completely useless, Jackson grabbed his phone and dialed Darby's number again, still determined to find out if the man knew or had heard anything. He ground his teeth and slammed the thing back down on the table when it went to voicemail again, reaching up to rub the heel of his palm into his forehead out of pure frustration.

It was around that time that he heard footsteps enter the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of his mother's voice. "Clay was right, you do look like shit."

Jackson let his hand fall down to rest on the table, then glanced at his mother. She was placing Abel in his booster seat a few feet away, obviously about to give him his lunch. He quickly put out his cigarette and batted at the smoke in the air with his hands, trying to clear it out now that Abel was in the room. "Thanks for the compliment, Ma," he said dryly, leaning back in his seat as he watched her go to the refrigerator to grab Abel's food. His eyes shifted over to Abel as Gemma searched for food, his spirits instantly lifting a bit when he saw the smile his son was directing at him. He got up to kiss the boy's blonde head, then sat down in the seat closest to him.

"I was under the impression that you came back here to get some sleep," Gemma said, ignoring his comment. She came back over carrying a small container of applesauce and a plate of baby carrots for Abel. She had that stern, motherly look on her face as she put the food down in front of Abel, the very same one Jackson had seen her wear a million times before. "I think it's pretty safe to assume you haven't done that," she quipped, giving him a critical look.

"I'm fine," Jackson argued with a shake of his head. "Besides, there's a lot of shit to do and – "

"And it's bein' taken care of," Gemma interrupted, placing a hand on her hip. As Jackson sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his mother cocked her head to the side and studied him long and hard. "Tell me, is this whole running yourself into the ground routine about protecting the club…or does it have somethin' to do with the fact that that pretty redhead was in the line of fire last night?" she asked bluntly, eyes narrowing a bit.

Jackson knew he probably shouldn't have been surprised by the fact that his mother had brought Dana up, but he still was. "The club got attacked and all you're worried about is my neighbor?" he asked disbelievingly. He shook his head and snorted. Gemma had never liked any woman he'd hung around – not his ex-wife Wendy, not his ex-girlfriend Tara, nobody. He knew good and damn well that it was because she felt her position in his life was threatened whenever a woman came into the picture, and clearly things were no different where Dana was concerned. She knew he'd been spending time with her the past week or so, and any time she saw them together she had that look on her face that was distinctly 'Momma Bear'. Jackson should have known it would only be a matter of time before she found a way to address the subject of their relationship, whatever it was.

"Answer the question," Gemma persisted, not letting him change the subject.

There was obviously no getting out of this conversation. "Her name is Dana," he corrected his mother, keeping his voice steady and trying not to show his mounting annoyance. "And even if it was about her, I fail to see how that would be any of your business," he added, warning her with his eyes to choose her words carefully. For the most part, it didn't really bother him when his mother talked shit about women she saw him with. She'd been doing it for so long that he was pretty used to it by now. But for some reason, when it came to Dana, he didn't want to hear a damned word.

Gemma clearly wasn't intimidated. "Not my business?" she repeated incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her hip out with attitude. "You're my son. I have every right to know who you're spending your time with, especially if you're bringing them around my grandson," Gemma lectured, gesturing toward an oblivious Abel.

"I'm your grown son, and I'm capable of making my own decisions," Jackson countered without missing a beat. "And I haven't brought Dana around Abel yet, just so you know."

"The key word there being yet," his mother huffed, looking annoyed. He sent her an unimpressed look in return, which Gemma met head on. "Look, I don't know who this Dana is," she continued, shaking her head, "but there's somethin' about her I don't like. I don't trust her any further than I could throw her," she insisted. "I don't think you should be spending so much time with her."

Jackson felt a prickle of irritation creep down his spine. "Why am I not surprised?" he asked sarcastically, snorting to himself. "When have you ever liked any woman I've been with?" Gemma started to argue back, but Jackson cut her off before she could get a word out. "I know you see her as just another skank chasin' a patch, but it ain't like that. She's not like those sweetbutts and croweaters that hang out at the clubhouse. Dana's…different." Gemma was looking at him in complete shock now, but Jackson wasn't finished yet. "You can talk as much shit as you want about any other woman and I won't give a rat's ass about it. But I don't wanna hear you say anything about Dana. Is that clear?"

Gemma blinked at him a few times, eyebrows raised so high that they disappeared underneath her bangs. She then uncrossed her arms and placed her hands on the back of one of the dining room chairs, leaning forward some so that she could peer directly into his eyes. "I haven't heard you defend a woman like that since you were with Tara," she said slowly, almost accusingly, making his spine go rigid. "This thing with her…it's about more than just sex, isn't it?"

Jackson had to look away, knowing that if he continued to meet his mother's gaze that she would get all the answer she needed. Maybe it wasn't just about trying to get Dana into his bed anymore. He still wanted her, there wasn't any denying that. Every time he was around her it was harder and harder to keep himself in check. He felt like he might lose his mind if he didn't get his hands on her soon. But now that he had spent some time actually getting to know her, things had started to change. And after last night, seeing how strong she had been during the drive-by and the chaos that ensued afterwards, well…he saw Dana Prejean in a brand new light. A brand new light that he was both eager and, admittedly, a little afraid to explore further.

"Jax," his mother started to demand, only to be cut off when her phone suddenly started to ring. She scowled, annoyed with the interruption, but still went to yank the phone from her purse and answer it. "Yeah?" she answered briskly. There was a pause as she listened to whatever the person on the other end was saying before she let out a massive heave. "Fine, I'll be there in ten minutes," Gemma said, before clicking her phone shut. Turning back to face him, she looked rather disgruntled but still managed to flash him her sternest stare. "You got lucky. I'm needed at the shop," she announced stiffly, before pointing at him with her index finger. "Do not think this is the end of this conversation. We're gonna finish talking about this," Gemma said in her most authoritative voice.

"Not today, we're not," Jackson shot back, his tone and expression just as unyielding as hers. "Go on," he dismissed with a nod toward the door, letting her know with his eyes that he didn't want to hear one more word about it. "I've got things under control here."

Gemma gave him one more look, grabbed her purse, kissed Abel on the top of his head, then left through the kitchen door without another word to Jackson.

As soon as he heard the engine to his mother's Cadillac start up, he sighed and relaxed in his seat, shaking his head to himself. Great, he thought to himself, as if things weren't already complicated enough. Now that his mother had a little insight as to what he was feeling toward his new neighbor, she was going to be like a hound who'd caught a scent. Jackson knew damn well she wouldn't be letting the subject of Dana Prejean slide any time soon. He was already not looking forward to the next time Gemma cornered him again and started telling him all the reasons why he shouldn't get involved with her, which he was absolutely positive she would do at the first possible moment.

His thoughts turned to the woman in question, leaving him to wonder where she was now and what she was doing. It was likely she was still with Rachel, especially since the two were practically attached at the hip these days. He wondered how they were both doing now that the dust from the drive-by had finally settled and they'd had a night to sleep on it. As Abel suddenly decided his applesauce would look better on the floor than in his mouth and began flinging food around with joyful giggles, Jackson leaned over and gently took the spoon from him to help him eat, wanting to avoid having to clean up a huge mess if he could. With the other hand he grabbed his cell phone from the table and flipped it open, scrolling through his contact list until he found the name he wanted. Then he clicked the green dial out button and pressed the phone to his ear…

---

"I can't wear this," Dana said as she looked at herself in the fitting room mirror. The dress Rachel had forced her to try on was a red cocktail dress with inch-wide straps on her shoulders, a very low-cut neckline, and a hem that stopped much higher up on Dana's thigh than she was generally comfortable with. The dress hugged her body like a second skin and gave her a startling amount of cleavage. She frowned and tried to push the pale hills of skin down in an attempt to preserve her modesty. It didn't work.

"I bet you look hot in that dress," Rachel said from the fitting room next door. Dana quirked a brow at herself in the mirror. She supposed she did look pretty good in it, but she couldn't help feeling like it made her look a teensy bit like a prostitute, as well. Dana shook her head and reached back to start unzipping the dress, but as though Rachel had sensed what she was doing, the brunette quickly spoke up to stop her. "Don't take it off yet," she instructed. "As soon as I get this dress on, I wanna see what you look like."

Dana sighed in defeat and let go of the zipper, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for Rachel to finish getting dressed.

When Rachel had said that they were going to paint the town red tonight, she had most certainly meant it. All morning long she'd been making plans – she'd called a few of her girlfriends and invited them to join in on the festivities, claiming the more the merrier, then had made a call to The Goat to tell Dupree to reserve them a table and a pricey bottle of champagne. She'd also made appointments for them to get manicures and pedicures and then made another mystery call to somewhere Dana was not yet allowed to know about. The plan was to begin the celebration at The Goat at nine, then embark for their 'mystery adventure' around eleven. In a way, Dana was looking forward to it – a night on the town with a bunch of girls who wanted to show her a good time? It was something she hadn't gotten to do in over a decade simply because, well...she didn't really have any girlfriends to do stuff like that with.

But, at the same time, she couldn't help but feel a little guilty. That message from Joel about the Mayans had been enough to bring her back down to earth and remind her that not only was she in Charming for a reason, but that there was still a lot of work to be done. She had a lot of questions regarding the Mayans' attack on SAMCRO, most of which probably had nothing to do with their investigation but nagged at her nonetheless. She wanted to know what had prompted the drive-by. Was this about the territory war Darby had warned the club about? Or was this something different, something they didn't even know about? She wanted to know what was going on, wanted to know just what in the hell they'd been trying to accomplish attacking a club that had no qualms retaliating when messed with.

Dana was busy pondering this over when her cell phone started to ring. She shook her head to bring herself back to the present, then reached into her purse and produced her iPhone, feeling her heart jump as soon as she read the name flashing across the screen. With a deep breath and a tiny smile, she swiped her thumb to accept the call and pressed the phone to her ear. "Hey," she said upon answering.

"Hey, cupcake," Teller responded, sounding tired. "How you doin'?"

"I'm fine," she told him. "Stuck with Rachel on the shopping trip from hell," she added, dropping her tone so Rachel wouldn't overhear, "but otherwise, I'm okay." Dana listened as Teller let out a short, quiet chuckle in response. "What are you up to?" she asked, curious to know what he'd been doing since they'd parted ways the night before.

"Right now? Sittin' at my folks' place and feedin' Abel." She couldn't help but smile a bit at the mental image of the big, tough, leather-wearing VP of SAMCRO spoon-feeding a ten month old. It wasn't often that she saw Teller with his son, but she had a feeling it was because he was actively trying not to let her see that aspect of his life, as though he was purposefully keeping her away from Abel. She could understand why – it's probably what every single parent would have done in this scenario. "You still holdin' up alright after last night?" he asked, shifting the focus back to her.

"Yeah, I'm good," she confirmed. "You don't sound so good, though," she stated pointedly, not missing his weary, lethargic tone. Dana tried not to feel concerned by it, but ended up failing. "You sound like you're gonna pass out mid-sentence. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"A little," Teller said dismissively. She could visualize him shrugging a nonchalant shoulder on his end. "Kinda hard to sleep when you're afraid someone's gonna ride along and shoot up the house you, your kid, and your parents are sleepin' in," he added wryly.

Dana sighed and shifted her weight to her other foot. "Yeah, I suppose it would be," she conceded. "I'm sure those guys are long gone by now, though. They wouldn't stick around here, not with – " SAMCRO hunting them down, she thought in her mind – "Charming P.D. looking for them," Dana wisely said instead.

"Yeah, I know," he agreed. "I guess I'm still just…too wired to sleep." Dana nodded her understanding, even though he couldn't see it. "What are you and Rachel shopping for?" he asked to quickly change the subject, clearly not wanting to discuss the events of the previous night any further.

Dana decided not to comment on the shift in conversation. Just as she was about to answer him and say she was out dress shopping, though, the curtain to her changing room flew open and Rachel stepped inside. As Dana turned to face her, the brunette's eyes went wide and gave her a long once over. Suddenly, Rachel smirked before letting out a whistle. "Damn, girl!" she said, nodding her head in approval. "You're giving me a hard-on, and I'm not even a guy." Dana rolled her eyes at the comment and was about to inform her that there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell she was going out in public wearing the revealing dress when Rachel pointed a finger to the phone against Dana's ear. "Who is that? Is that Jax?"

Dana's eyes widened a bit and she quickly shook her head, trying to lie and say that it was someone else, but Rachel didn't buy it. Without any warning, she reached forward and snatched the phone from Dana's hand, pressing it to her own ear before she could be stopped. Dana blinked, stunned, as Rachel started talking a mile a minute.

"Hey, Jax!...I'm fine, I'm fine. Much better than last night…Thanks…Oh, just dress shopping. Dana and I are celebrating tonight," she said, sending a wink in Dana's direction. With a start, she realized Rachel was about to spill the beans to Teller about it being her birthday. She waved her hands and tried to tell Rachel not to say anything, but her efforts were ignored. "Celebrating Dana's dirty thirty, of course…Yeah, it's her birthday today. She just didn't think she needed to tell anyone that," she said, shooting Dana a look now. Dana heaved and ran a defeated hand over her face, knowing that the damage had now been done. "Anyway," Rachel continued, "do you have plans tonight?" Dana's insides clenched, knowing exactly what Rachel planned to do. Sure enough she said, "You should come out. After last night I'm sure you could use a drink or two…Great! Meet us at The Goat at nine….Okay, see you later, Jax."

With that, Rachel smiled triumphantly and handed the phone back to Dana. "You're welcome," she said, looking quite proud of herself. "And you're totally getting that dress, by the way," she added, before turning to leave. As she went back to her room to change, she started humming a song that sounded suspiciously like Jeremih's 'Birthday Sex' underneath her breath.

Dana shook her head before pressing the phone back to her ear. "Why am I friends with her again?" she asked sarcastically, pulling a laugh from Teller. Rachel heard her and made a sound of indignation from the dressing room next door, which Dana ignored. "So, secret's out," she said with a cringe.

"Guess so," Teller agreed. "Why didn't you say anything last night?"

"There were more important things happening at the time," she said without much infliction. "Besides, birthdays have never really been a big deal to me."

There was a sound of understanding in her ear. "Well, happy birthday anyway," Teller told her.

"Thanks," Dana said.

At that moment, there was a beep on the line. She pulled her phone to see if it was her that had another incoming call, then pressed it back to her ear upon realizing it wasn't. "Finally," she heard Teller say on his end of the line, his voice more than a little agitated now. "Hey, I've got a call comin' in and I've been waitin' for it all morning. Hate to cut this short, but I gotta go."

"Okay," Dana said, actually a little relieved to get off the phone. Talking to him on the phone like this felt too casual, too…normal. "You should try to get some more sleep," she suggested in spite of herself. "You're no good to anybody half-dead."

Teller snorted on his end of the line. "You're the second person to tell me that today."

"Then maybe you should take the advice," she suggested without missing a beat.

"Duly noted, cupcake," he said, a smirk evident in his tone. "I'll see you tonight."

"Okay. Bye," she said, before ending the call.

When she turned around to put the phone in her purse, she wasn't overly surprised to see that Rachel had dressed back into her normal clothes and was standing in the entrance to Dana's fitting room with a knowing smile on her face. Dana immediately shot her co-worker a look, which made the brunette raise her hands up in defense. "Hey, don't look at me like that," she said innocently. "It's a rule that on your dirty thirty, you must have sex with someone. I'm just tryin' to help a sister out and secure you a man for tonight," Rachel explained, her smile turn.

Dana shoved her phone into her purse, then placed her hands on her hips and gave Rachel her sternest look. "How many times have I told you? I'm not having sex with Jackson Teller!" Dana said in exasperation, wondering how many times she'd have to say it before Rachel finally got the picture. Attraction to him or not, Teller was strictly off limits.

Rachel laughed a bit and then raised her eyebrows. "Well, I hate to break it to you babe," she said, clicking her tongue, "but if you're not having sex with Jax Teller, then you probably won't be having sex at all."

Even though it hadn't necessarily been a goal of hers to roll around in the sheets with anyone tonight - or anytime in the near future, for that matter - Dana still blinked at Rachel, a little confused by that statement. "What do you mean?"

Rachel immediately heaved and rolled her eyes. "Come on, Dana. You're not blind and you're certainly not stupid. Jax wants you. I know it, you know it...hell, even Juice knows it, and that guy is never in the loop," she said matter-of-factly. "Anyway," she continued, "when Jax has his eye on someone, he tends to get a little…alpha male, if you know what I mean," she explained.

Dana's confusion only grew. "I'm still not following," she admitted, tilting her head to the side. Of course she knew Teller was interested. She saw the way that he looked at her, and she certainly hadn't forgotten that he had already tried to kiss her. But it wasn't as if he wanted her for more than anything but a tumble in the sheets. Why would he care if she went home with somebody else, so long as he got his turn eventually?

Rachel smirked and raised one brow, looking very much like she knew something that Dana did not. "Haven't you ever wondered why Half-Sack suddenly lost interest? Or why your date with him went down the gutter before it even started?" she asked deliberately, making Dana's eyes widen with dawning realization.

"You mean…" Dana trailed off, still trying to process what she'd just heard.

Rachel grinned and nodded. "Jax told him to back off as soon as he found out," she revealed. "He even asked me to keep an eye on Sack and make sure he didn't try anything, just in case the guy got any ideas. And trust me when I say that he would not go to those lengths for a woman unless he really liked her." Rachel then stepped forward and placed a hand on Dana's shoulder, looking quite amused with the redhead's shell-shocked expression. "That man has got it bad for you, honey. And if he can't have you, then he'll make damn sure nobody else in this town does, either."

Dana sucked in a breath, then released it slowly. "Holy shit," she said, absolutely floored by this turn of events. She'd already known that she was in trouble when it came to the Vice President of SAMCRO and her growing attraction toward him, but this? This she was completely unprepared for.

Rachel laughed at her dumbfounded expression and slapped her shoulder. "Holy shit is right. Now pick your jaw up off the floor, get dressed, and let's go," the brunette said. "We've got a mani and pedi appointment to get to."

With that Rachel turned a left. And all Dana could do was watched her go in silence, still totally stunned by what she'd just been told.

---

She ended up getting the red dress, partly because Rachel hadn't given her a choice in the matter, but also partly because she had still been too shocked over the little revelation concerning Teller's intentions to argue with the bossy brunette about it. After they were done buying their outfits for the night, the day passed in the blink of an eye, as though somebody somewhere had the remote to her life and had pushed fast forward. They got their nails done, grabbed a bite to eat, did one more round of shopping to find shoes to match their outfits, then finally went back to Rachel's apartment to get ready for their evening out. All the while, Dana hardly stopped thinking about Teller, her stomach filling with what felt suspiciously like butterflies anytime his face flashed through her mind. Whether that was out of nervousness or giddiness, however, she wasn't completely sure.

Around seven thirty, just as Dana was stepping out of the shower at Rachel's apartment, the two friends that Rachel had invited to join in on the festivities arrived. One was named Mindy, a very pretty blonde wearing a skintight dress made mostly of leather – the other was named Tressa, an equally attractive brunette who'd opted for a leather miniskirt and a black tube top. Both wore heavy makeup, gaudy jewelry, and sky high heels that looked as though they'd been designed to torture ankles. Dana was surprised to realize that she recognized them - the very first night she'd gone into the SAMCRO clubhouse after the fundraiser, she'd seen Rachel chatting with the two sometime during one of their many rounds of pool. They were both sweetbutts, if her memory served her correctly.

At first she was a little wary of the two, seeing as the only sweetbutt she'd had any interaction with thus far was Monica and they got along about as well as the Bloods and the Crips did. But once they had cracked open a few bottles of wine and got to chatting while they fixed their hair and make-up, Dana soon discovered that Mindy and Tressa were actually very easy to talk to and seemed like genuinely friendly people, much to her relief. Between the constant, girly, gossip-filled chatter and the steady flow of wine, the time passed quickly. Before Dana knew it, it was eight-forty-five and she was already feeling buzzed.

She finally decided that she could no longer delay the inevitable and squeezed into the skintight dress that Rachel had insisted she purchase. With a bend of her elbow, she reached a hand back and tugged the zipper up into place, stopping once she reached the end of the zip, right above the clasp of her strapless bra. Dana then smoothed out the skirt and tugged the hem down an inch or so before stepping into a pair of black heels. A suggestive whistle from the bathroom behind her made her laugh and roll her eyes. "Stop, you'll make me blush," Dana joked, to which the girls laughed.

She straightened up once her heels were on, then turned to look at herself in the full length mirror hanging on Rachel's bedroom wall. Between her perfectly curled hair, the heavier than normal make-up, the super-tight dress, and the Come-Get-Me's giving her an extra four inches of height, she hardly looked like the Dana Bradshaw she usually saw in the mirror. But that was the whole point of being undercover, wasn't it? Becoming somebody that you're not?

Rachel's face suddenly appeared in the reflection, hovering just above Dana's shoulder. "Whatcha think?" she asked, wagging her eyebrows.

Dana sucked in a breath. "I look like a – " She managed to catch herself before she could say sweetbutt, not wanting to offend Mindy and Tressa, " – prostitute."

"A high end prostitute," Mindy corrected helpfully from the bathroom.

"Thanks…I think," Dana said with a small laugh. Just then, she heard her purse start to vibrate. Moving away from the mirror, she opened her purse to search for the vibrating phone, only to freeze when she realized it was the silver flip phone she never let anybody see her with. Closing the purse again, Dana straightened up with the bag in hand and headed for the door. "I'll be right back, I've gotta take this call," she excused herself.

Rachel quirked a brow and eyed the bag in her hand. "You need your purse for that?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

"Smoke break, too," Dana said with a casual shrug, walking from the room before Rachel could ask any more questions.

She headed into the living room and then stepped through the sliding glass doors that led out to Rachel's balcony, making sure to close the door behind her. Once she was outside, she fished the flip phone from her purse. She quickly checked the window next to the balcony to make sure it was closed before answering. "Hey," she said automatically, knowing it was probably Joel.

"Where are you?" Joel asked, sounding confused. "Aren't you supposed to be working at the bar tonight?"

Dana fished a pack of smokes and a lighter from her purse, lighting up a cigarette before responding. "Dupree thought Rachel and I would be too distraught to work after the drive-by. He gave us the night off," she explained in a low tone, taking another drag from the cigarette.

"Oh," Joel said as understanding dawned. "Okay, then. So what are you doin' instead?"

"Goin' to The Goat anyway," Dana answered, leaning her elbows against the railing of the balcony and taking another drag off her cigarette. "Rachel found out it was my birthday and decided to throw me a party," she explained, a small smile pulling at her lips as she thought of all the trouble Rachel had gone through to make it a good day for her. As reluctant as she'd been to partake in the festivities, she was actually rather touched by the whole situation. "She and a few of her friends are taking me out for my birthday."

Her statement was met with silence for a long few moments. "Dana," Joel said slowly, disapproval evident in his tone. "I don't like the sound of this." Dana rolled her eyes. Why was she not surprised to hear that? "In case you forgot, there's two agents missing right now. Do you really think you should be taking the night off to party with these people?"

Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the lingering anxiety from the drive-by, or maybe it was just the overall stress of the past few weeks. Whatever it was, Dana felt her patience slip and could not hamper down the sudden surge of annoyance. "Gee, Joel," she said, her voice dripping wit venom, "I've been stuck in Charming, Fucking, California for two weeks risking my neck on an undercover operation involving a dangerous motorcycle club, but, silly me! I forgot all about those missing agents," she snapped sarcastically.

"Dana – " Joel tried to interject.

"If you think I don't know what's at stake here, you're wrong," Dana interrupted before he could say more. "For your information, Jackson Teller is going to be at this little party of ours, Joel, as well as probably half of SAMCRO. Are my orders not to get friendly with the club, namely Jax? Did Peters not tell me to get close to them by any means necessary? I'm doing my job, Joel, even if you don't think I am." Her job was the last thing on her mind right then, actually, but he didn't need to know that. "Now I'd appreciate it if you backed off and showed me a little trust for a change."

Joel was quiet for a long few seconds, but, finally, he spoke. "I do trust you, Dana," he said seriously. "I'm just…worried. Those people you've been hangin' out with – Rachel, Dupree, Teller…" He trailed off for a moment, then sighed. "Just don't forget who they are. They're your suspects, Bradshaw, not your friends," Joel pointed out.

"I know who they are," Dana said evenly, though deep down she really wasn't so sure anymore. Because those people who had started out as suspects, as people she needed to get close to purely for the sake of the investigation, were, against her better judgement, starting to feel like more than just that.

"You sure about that?" Joel asked, as though reading her mind.

Dana's frown was immediate. "Of course I am," she lied defensively. "What makes you think otherwise?"

"You just referred to Teller as 'Jax'," he pointed out bluntly.

Dana went very quiet at that, stunned into silence as she realized that yes, she had referred to Teller as 'Jax', something she absolutely never did. She didn't call him 'Jax' when she was talking to him, wouldn't call him 'Jax' if she was talking about him, did not even allow herself to call him 'Jax' in her own head when she was thinking about him. It had always been Teller – anything other than that just felt way too personal. "It was…a slip of the tongue," Dana excused once she'd recovered enough to speak.

"Uh-huh," Joel said, sounding very unconvinced. He let it go, though, and got back to business. "Look, do whatever you feel you have to. Just…be careful tonight, okay?" he said with a sigh. "Remember what I said. And watch yourself around them."

Dana closed her eyes for a second and sucked in a deep breath. "Alright," she answered. "Once this conversation is over, I'm turning off this phone and keeping it in my car. I don't want Rachel or any of these girls digging through my purse and finding something they shouldn't," she explained. Really she just wanted a night where she didn't have Joel or Peters or anyone from her team micromanaging every little thing she did. She wanted a night of pure freedom. "Call me on my regular phone if you need me. Emergencies only."

She sensed hesitation on Joel's end, but he didn't put up a protest. "Alright," he conceded. "Good luck. We'll keep eyes on you from here."

"Okay. Bye."

The line went silent as Joel hung up. Dana pulled the phone from her ear and stared at it for a moment, then pressed her finger on the power button and held it down, until the phone powered off completely.

---

At nine-fifteen on the dot, they pulled into a parking space in front of the all-too-familiar Billy Goat Gruff. As they parked, Dana couldn't help but notice that several motorcycles were already lined up in front of the bar. She'd guessed that Teller might tell his club buddies about the party tonight and invite them to come along, and apparently she'd been right. As she stepped out of Rachel's car and straightened out the black, leather jacket she'd donned before leaving the apartment, her eyes were drawn to a familiar Harley in the row of motorcycles. It was the very same bike that she usually saw parked in the driveway next door, which meant Teller – not Jax, she reminded herself firmly – was already there.

She didn't have time to feel nervous about facing him, because before she knew it Rachel was grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her up to the front door. Every eye in the room turned to Dana and her three companions as they entered the bar, making her flush with embarrassment. They were way overdressed for Billy Goat Gruff and Dana was very conscious of that fact, even more so when a number of guys gave them all very blatant, leering once overs. Thankfully, Rachel was in a hurry to get the party started and immediately began half-leading, half-dragging her through the crowd, which didn't give anyone the opportunity to come up and talk to them. They only stopped to say hello to Dupree and give him a hug, then continued on toward where the Sons undoubtedly would be waiting.

As soon as they broke through the thick of the crowd, Dana spotted the cluster of leather that signaled SAMCRO members. Juice, Chibs, and Tig were the ones who'd decided to join them on their little outing tonight, and, of course, Teller was there too. They already had a round of drinks and were sitting around the table Rachel had reserved, which was the Sons' usual spot on any normal day – anyone who came into the bar knew that the big table next to the pool tables was SAMCRO's space. Dana stood a little straighter as she caught sight of Teller, her mind instantly turning back to what Rachel had told her in the dressing room. Nervousness flooded her again, but she allowed herself to be pulled toward him regardless.

Chibs was the first to spot them and immediately threw his arms up, not caring how much attention he drew as he called out a greeting. "There they are!" he announced loudly in his thick, Scottish brough, his gravely voice rising above the noise in the bar.

Absolutely nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

At once, all of the Sons were out of their seats and coming to greet them. Dana fully expected for them to just say a polite hello to her and move on to the other girls, whom they actually knew, but that wasn't at all what happened. Without warning, Juice walked right up to her and pulled her in for a hug, grinning widely as he wished her a happy birthday. And this was not a wimpy hug either. It was a full on, two arms around her, chest to chest hug. Dana was surprised to say the least, but didn't get the chance to recover before Juice was being pushed aside by Chibs so the Scotsman could great her next. He hugged her tightly and even placed a noisy kiss on her cheek followed by a 'Happy birthday, darlin'' in that thick accent of his. Still stunned, she stood rooted to the spot as she received similar treatment from Tig next, who hugged her so enthusiastically that he lifted her off her feet for a brief second.

The exceptionally friendly and - dare she say it? - affectionate greeting she'd just received from the bikers left her feeling absolutely gob-smacked. She had not been anticipating that sort of reception at all, especially so since she didn't know them all that well. Dana was still trying to get over the shock of it when Teller came stepping up to her next, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. He was wearing his signature white shoes, baggy jeans, and a dark flannel shirt underneath his Sons of Anarchy kutte. Dana gave him a once over, thinking he looked damn good. But then again, when didn't Teller look good these days?

"Evenin', cupcake," he said, stepping closer still. Her heart accelerated when he slipped a hand onto her waist and pulled her close, his cologne invading her nostrils. When he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss near the corner of her mouth, she thought her heart might pop right out of her chest. "Happy birthday," Teller added without stepping away, looking as though he wasn't in any hurry to let her go.

"Thanks," Dana said, cringing when she heard how breathless she sounded.

Rachel's voice interrupted the moment. "Shots! Shots in honor of the birthday girl!" she cried out, clapping her hands and motioning for everyone to round up. Dana glanced at the loud brunette, then looked back to Teller with a helpless shrug. He just smirked in response and slid his hand from her waist to her back to guide her toward their table.

While Rachel and Tig got busy preparing and dispensing shots for them all, Teller removed his hand from her back to place his hands on her shoulders. "Lemme take your jacket," he offered before they could sit down.

"That's very gentlemanly of you," Dana joked, hoping it would hide the fact that just being near him right now was doing all sorts of funny things to her insides. And knowing what she now knew – that his interest in her went much farther than she'd realized, so much so that he had sabotaged her date with Half-Sack to eliminate the competition – made it all the more worse.

"Always a tone of surprise," he said in her ear, throwing her words from the previous night back at her.

As she laughed and shook her head, he pulled her leather jacket off her shoulders and slid it down the length of her arms. The minute her outfit was revealed, Juice, Chibs, and Tig all stopped what they were doing and stared at her as though they'd never seen a woman in a dress before. They gawked so blatantly, in fact, that Rachel actually smacked Juice up across the back of his head. Their reactions boosted Dana's confidence some, enough to where she found the bravery to turn around and see what the look on Teller's face was. When she saw him staring at her with wide eyes and a slightly dropped jaw, it was everything in her not to grin triumphantly.

"God damn, Dana," he said, sounding awed. "You look…" Teller trailed off and didn't finish the sentence, as though he couldn't think of a word good enough to describe how she looked.

Dana smiled, thinking she just might have to thank Rachel for making her get this dress by the time it was all said and done. "Thanks. And so do you," she said, before sliding into a seat at the table.

Teller laid her jacket across the back of a seat and quickly joined her, claiming the spot right next to her. It was long before a shot was pressed into her hand, and after a quick birthday toast was made by Rachel, they all clinked their shots together. Before Dana threw her shot back, her eyes locked with Teller's and he gave her a slow, admittedly sexy, smirk before they both pounded the shot and slammed their empty glasses back onto the table. After that, Rachel grabbed the Cristal that Dupree had left chilling in an ice bucket on the middle of the table, popped it open, and the party officially began.

For the next few hours, there wasn't a single moment where Dana didn't have a drink in her hand. As she had suspected would most likely be the case, Rachel seemed to have made it her personal mission to get Dana as absolutely hammered drunk as she could. The moment Dana finished one glass of champagne, another was being shoved her way – whenever they took a round of shots, Rachel tried to make her take two instead of one. Between their pre-gaming at Rachel's and their drinks at the bar, by the time it was nearing eleven Dana was definitely feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Despite her rising level of intoxication, she also couldn't help but notice that there wasn't a single moment that Teller wasn't by her side, save the few times she, Rachel, and the girls had to take a trip to the bathroom. As the drinks flowed and they all laughed and talked and played back-to-back rounds of pool, Teller was always right there, keeping close by and giving her his full attention. Dana couldn't say she didn't enjoy it to some extent – Teller was the most attractive guy in the bar, probably in all of Charming. And it seemed he only had eyes for her.

"Alright, kids!" Rachel announced around eleven o'clock, just as they were finishing up their last pool game. "It's almost eleven, which means we need to be off to our next adventure!"

"And where is that?" Juice asked curiously. He stood behind Rachel with his arms wrapped tight around her waist. He was looking at the brunette with nothing short of complete adoration in his eyes.

Rachel grinned wickedly. "Cara Cara, of course!" she revealed, much to the approval of the Sons.

"One'a my favorite places in tha whole world," Chibs said reverentially, looking all too eager at the idea of going to the porn studio that had recently had a strip club added on to it.

Dana could admit that she wasn't all that thrilled at the prospect of going to a strip club – the idea made her instantly feel dirty – but the inner agent lurking somewhere far beneath the haze of alcohol recognized the opportunity laid out before her. They had eyes on Cara Cara because SAMCRO owned the joint. And though it was unlikely the bikers would be keeping hostages at a place like that, Peters did not want them to leave any stones unturned and had told Dana to find a way in there more than once. The opportunity to actually do so had never presented itself…until tonight, anyway.

"Whaddya say, birthday girl," Mindy asked, a wide smirk on her face. "You ready for a little stripper action?"

Dana hesitated for only one second, then nodded. "I'm in."

They said their goodbye's to Dupree, paid their tab – which wasn't even half as much as it should have been – then left Billy Goat Gruff to go to Cara Cara. As they walked out of the bar, Teller grabbed her by the hand and linked his fingers through hers as though it were the most natural thing in the world, only sparing her a glance as he did so. Then, as Rachel got on the back of Juice's bike and the other two girls saddled up with Chibs and Tig, he pulled her in the direction of his bike, clearly intending to make her ride with him.

"Short dresses and motorcycles don't really mix," Dana protested half-heartedly as she eased onto the bike behind Teller, trying to preserve her modesty as she threw a leg over the bike and got comfortable.

"I beg to differ," Tig protested, eyeing the scandalous amount of thigh Mindy, his riding companion, was flashing thanks to her own short dress.

Dana just shook her head and wrapped her arms around Teller's waist, scooching in a little closer so she would feel more secure. His cologne filled her nose again, along with the scent of whatever shampoo he used. Teller glanced at her over his shoulder as he started up the engine, the loud motorcycle roaring to life. "Comfortable?" After she nodded, he kicked up the kickstand, revved the engine, then pulled away from The Goat. The rest of the Sons soon followed suit, and then they were on their way to Cara Cara.

---

She wasn't surprised to see that the strip club was packed by the time they arrived, nor was she surprised when they walked inside and every stripper in the joint immediately lit up like kids on Christmas morning to see the leather clad SAMCRO members waltzing through the door. They started through the dimly lit club, walking past tables of drunk, eager looking men – and, in some cases, women – as loud music pounded from speakers all around the club. Several strippers came up to greet the Sons as they were shown to the table Rachel had reserved, pulling them in for hugs and kissing them on the cheeks in greeting. Clearly, SAMCRO and the Cara Cara strippers were on very good terms with one another.

As they reached a large table right next to the stage, Dana sat down and then watched, feeling a not so small twinge of jealousy, as a blonde haired, super tanned woman in nothing but a skimpy bra and barely-there panties appeared practically out of thin air and pulled Teller into a cozy looking hug, the grin on her face stating that she was beyond happy to see him. Dana's initial instinct told her to grab the woman by her undoubtedly fake hair and give her one good, swift punch to the solar plexus. Dana managed to hamper down the burning urge, though, when Teller pulled himself free of the stripper and immediately joined her in the booth, one muscled arm resting on the back of the booth just behind her as he scooted in close. The stripper looked crestfallen for a moment upon seeing them together, but she quickly pulled herself together and went walking away.

"I think she wanted you to stick around," Dana said, leaning in and raising her voice so he'd hear her over the loud music.

Teller raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "Well, she's shit outta luck," he said, also leaning in and raising his voice to be heard. "There's only one woman who has my attention tonight," he added meaningfully, before smirking at her and moving his arm from the back of the seat to drape it around her shoulders instead. She couldn't find it in herself to pull away from him.

Just like at The Goat, the drinks started flowing again and the party picked up exactly where they had left off. They laughed and talked and drank, cheering for strippers as they came to do their bit on the stage and just generally being loud and obnoxious. Teller kept his arm around her shoulders nearly the whole time, and Dana noticed after a while that he wasn't really even paying much attention to the strippers walking around – he was keeping his focus on her, just as he had back at the bar.

After they'd been there for an hour or so, Rachel suddenly thought it would be a grand idea to tell the DJ that they were there celebrating Dana's thirtieth birthday and suggested she get some special treatment. Before Dana even knew it, she was being pulled onto the stage, was shoved into a chair, then, much to her mortification, found herself on the receiving end of a very erotic lap dance from not one, but two strippers. As much as she'd had to drink that night, Dana decided she wasn't nearly drunk enough for all this. While the two strippers grinded up and undulated against her, her cheeks burned so hot she was certain she looked like a tomato. The cheering of the mostly male crowd didn't help her embarrassment, especially so seeing as the Sons were cheering the loudest. Even Teller seemed to be enjoying the show and kept whistling through his teeth, the wicked grin never leaving his handsome face.

Once the lap dance was over, Dana received kisses on the cheeks from the strippers and a round of applause from the crowd. Still blushing bright red, she managed an awkward wave then hurried off to the side of the stage to rejoin her friends. Teller immediately moved forward and grabbed her by the waist to help her down, still grinning at her. Dana placed her hands on his broad shoulders for balance as he pulled her down from the stage.

"Helluva show, cupcake," he said once she was on level ground again.

"Glad you enjoyed it," she threw back at him wryly. "I, on the other hand, need another drink after that."

"Yeah, I think I do, too," he agreed, giving her a quick, conspicuous once over. He shifted his hold on her, removing his hands from her waist so he could wrap an arm around her instead. "C'mon, let's go to the bar." They could have easily gotten refills at the table and saved themselves the trip, but Dana didn't put up a protest as he pulled her away from the others and led her toward the busy bar. After they found space at the counter and Teller had ordered a few drinks for them, he turned his attention back to her. "You could have warned me, you know," he said, leaning toward her ear so she could hear him over the noise of the club.

Dana frowned in confusion. "Warned you about what?"

He smirked and moved a little closer. "How damn good you were gonna look tonight," Teller clarified, his slightly husky tone sending a zing of awareness down her spine.

Dana actually blushed a bit as her temperature raised some, but she told her hormones to get ahold of themselves. "But then it would have ruined the surprise," she told him jokingly, trying to diffuse the heat threatening to surround them.

As if sensing what she was trying to do, the corner of Teller's mouth pulled up into a lopsided smile and he nodded. "If you say so." He took a drink, then changed the subject. "You havin' fun tonight?"

Dana smiled and nodded, glad they'd gone back to safer territory. "I am, yeah," she said, and it was the honest to God truth. It had been a long time since she'd let loose like this. And as surprising as it was that the Sons were being so friendly and treating her like, well, one of their own, it actually made the night that much better. Right then, she did not see them as gun-running, drive-by attracting, potential agent-kidnapping outlaws. Dana only saw them as regular guys who were showing her a good time and treating her like they'd been friends for years. In this moment, they didn't seem like the loathsome men she'd believe them to be at the beginning. Not even a little bit.

Joel's voice suddenly echoed in her head, trying to remind her that no matter what she felt toward them, these were not her friends. Dana shoved his voice away though, pushing it to the back of her mind – she hadn't wanted to hear him say that the first time around, so she certainly didn't want to relive it now.

"I have a question," Dana said once they had their drinks, wanting to change the subject so she wouldn't think about Joel or his warning anymore. "Is true that this place is a porn studio, too?"

Teller nodded and took a drink. "Started out as that, actually," he answered. "Luann Delaney, one of our club brothers' Old Lady, is the one who runs the joint. She fell on some hard times, but we pulled her through. After that business really started taking off, so we thought – why not expand? And voila," he said, gesturing around with a sweep of his hand. "Now there's a strip club."

Dana nodded in understanding, then smirked and cocked her head to the side. "Can I see it?"

Teller quirked a brow. "See what?" he asked uncertainly.

"The porn studio," Dana answered simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Teller pursed his lips hesitantly. "You sure? It's not really…you know…kosher." When Dana just nodded, he shrugged and gave a little bob of his head. "Alright, then," he said, grabbing his drink with one hand, and Dana's hand with the other. "Come on."

He led her back through the crowd and toward a door on the far side of the bar marked Employees Only. Without pausing he pushed the door open and ushered her through, never releasing his hold on her hand. They were in a long hallway now, where several strippers were hurrying back and forth and chatting away like a bunch of clucking hens. A dressing room was to her immediate left, where several women changed outfits or fixed their make-up as they prepared to go on stage or hunt down potential customers – her eyebrows shot up as she saw a lot more of those strippers than she'd really needed to.

Teller pulled her away from the dressing room, down the hallway, and then through the last door on the left. It opened up to another hallway that was lined with two or three offices on either side and both a men and women's bathroom. They went through one last door, this one opening up to the right, and found themselves in yet another hallway with more dressing rooms. This was clearly where the porn stars got dressed – or undressed – and prepared for filming. Her suspicions were confirmed when an overly built, moderately attractive man wearing nothing but a bright red thong walked out of one of the dressing rooms. He went striding down the hallway, his butt cheeks flexing with each step, and disappeared through a pair of double doors at the very end.

"Oh my," she couldn't help but say, unable to get the image of his naked butt out of her head. A giggle escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Teller grinned, clearly enjoying her amusement. "I warned ya," he said around a chuckle. "C'mon," he urged, nodding toward the door the guy had just disappeared through. "Let's see what's goin' on."

Dana walked with him to the double doors and he finally released her hand as they peered curiously through the circle windows in the doors to see what was happening in the studio. There were a lot of people moving around, some dressed in black crew clothing, others wearing nothing at all. Bright lights and cameras and every piece of electrical equipment one could imagine were set up all over the place, though most of it was centered around a small set that was currently in use. Dana narrowed her eyes and gazed a little harder at what was happening on set, then flushed when she saw a man and a woman going at it and realized that they were very much in the middle of a shoot.

"We shouldn't go inside," Teller suggested, having seen the same thing Dana had. "Luann'll get pissed if we interrupt shooting. And trust me, her temper ain't pretty – even less so on night shoots."

Dana nodded, still watching the shoot, then finally managed to tear her eyes away to look over at Teller. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that they were completely alone for the first time that night, or maybe it was because they had both just seen two people having sex – hell, maybe it was a combination of all three. Whatever the reason, the mood between them rapidly shifted as their gazes locked. All of a sudden, the hallway they were in felt as though it had gotten much smaller and at least twenty degrees hotter. Dana was acutely aware of Teller's every moment and every breath. She felt as though she had gotten trapped in a tractor beam and was being pulled in, whether she wanted to be or not.

"We should go back," Dana managed out. "The others will start to wonder where we are."

Though he didn't look all that keen on rejoining the rest of the group, Teller nodded. With that, they turned to leave.

As they walked back into the hallway of offices, the heat that bloomed between them didn't diminish in the slightest. Thankful for the drink in her hand, she took a few long gulps to calm her nerves. The tension rolling off of Teller was so palpable she could practically feel it on her skin, but she didn't dare look at his face to see what might be lurking in those bright, blue eyes of his. The alcohol in her system was skewing the lines of right and wrong and making it hard to keep a grip on her rapidly disappearing self-control. If she looked over and saw even a hint of the same hunger, that same lust that she was feeling anywhere on his handsome face, that would be it. She was going to jump him right here, right now, in this hallway. And she wouldn't give a flying fuck about the repercussions…not until she was sober again, anyway.

Thankfully, they made it out of the employee area and back out into the strip club without Dana doing anything heady or rash – like mauling Jackson Teller in a deserted hallway between a strip club and porn studio. Any relief she felt was short-lived, however, when she finally did get a look at the expression on his face. The gleam in his eyes plainly stated that she hadn't been the only one struggling with will-power just then. Dana was glad when they made it back to the table, finding that she desperately needed some space to collect herself. As they rejoined their increasingly intoxicated friends and Teller started to sit back down at the table, Dana finished the rest of her drink, grabbed for her purse, and nodded toward the bathrooms.

"I'll be right back," she said to excuse herself, very much needing to get away from Teller to try to get her head back on right. "When the waitress comes by, can you get me another?" After Teller nodded in confirmation, she started for the bathrooms. She felt his eyes on her back the whole way.

Once she was in the bathroom, she locked herself in a stall and sat down on the toilet, dropping her face into her hands and heaving heavily.

Fuck, she thought to herself, feeling confused and conflicted and incredibly turned on all at the same time. What the hell was Jackson Teller doing to her? In all her eight years of working against criminals, Dana had never had a problem like this. She wasn't that woman who lost her head around attractive men, nor was she the type of agent who became attracted to her suspects. But then again, she'd never known a suspect that was quite like Jackson Teller. Hell, she'd never known a man quite like that infuriatingly handsome biker. Dana heaved again and shook her head. She was way too drunk to deal with this right now. Maybe it was best if she called it a night while she still had a shred of coherency left – if she drank too much more, she feared she'd lose control over herself completely. And there was no telling what she'd do to Teller if that happened. It had to be getting late anyway, right? Surely the club would be closing soon.

Dana pulled her iPhone out from her purse to check the time, but got sidetracked when she saw that she had a missed call and a voicemail from a number she didn't recognize. Curious, Dana went into her voicemail to check the message, hiccupping slightly and then pressing a hand to her chest when she felt an uncomfortable sensation there. God, she'd had way too much to drink. Dana knew she could put some alcohol away, but she'd really overdone it tonight.

The automated voice sounded in her ear and told her she had a new message, pulling her from her drunken thoughts and making her focus on what she was doing. When the message finally started, however, time seemed to stop for a second.

"Hello, Stella," a deep male voice said, "I know it's been a long time – "

Dana yanked the phone away from her ear and pressed the end button before she could hear any more, knowing who it was in an instant. There were only two men in the whole world who knew her real first name and actually called her by it. One was her father. The other was her brother, Brannon. And as far as she knew, only one of those two men had her current number. She shoved the phone back into her purse and yanked her hand back equally as fast, as though the device was something poisonous and should not be touched, her heart pounding against her ribs.

After nine years of zero communication, Brannon Bradshaw, the brother she had once loved, had finally tried to get ahold of her.

Dana gulped, feeling cold. She raised a hand to run it through her hair, unsurprised when she realized that hand was shaking. She closed her eyes for a moment, her inebriated mind trying to figure out what the hell she should do now. After a moment, she finally decided that the only thing that made sense in that moment was to have a shot. Many shots. As many as it would take to forget her brother had ever called her in the first place.

---

Jackson knew something was wrong when Dana came back from the bathrooms. She looked a little pale and a little shaky, leaving him to wonder if maybe she'd just thrown up. But when she slid into the seat next to him and immediately pounded the first shot she could get her hands on, he decided that wasn't the case - she wasn't acting like someone who'd just vomited, nor did she smell like it either. Something was wrong with her, though, he could tell by the slightly stricken look in her eyes. He frowned, suddenly wondering if maybe her sudden shift in demeanor was his fault. Maybe he'd been coming on too strong. Maybe he'd freaked her out. Jackson knew very well how skittish she was when it came to him and the undeniable attraction between them, and normally he didn't push too hard because of that. But fuck, he just couldn't help himself. She was absolutely killing him tonight.

"You okay?" he asked, leaning in close and giving her a scrutinizing look.

Dana looked at him, then forced on a smile. "Yeah," she said, nodding.

Her tone of voice wasn't convincing though. "You sure?" he persisted, raising his brows.

She nodded in response, then reached a hand over to briefly squeeze his arm in reassurance before reaching for her drink. Jackson still didn't think she was telling him the truth, but since it was clear that she didn't want to discuss whatever was bugging her, he finally just let it drop.

Dana made it her mission to get as shitfaced as she could after that, taking shots every so often and knocking back cocktails in rapid precession. Jackson kept an eye on her, unable to hamper down his feels of worry. Not only was he a little concerned that she might get alcohol poisoning if she kept at it like this, but he was also concerned about what had happened to make her behave this way. Admittedly, there was also a small part of him feeling more and more defeated with each drink she downed, knowing that the drunker she got the less likely it was she'd be in his bed by the end of the night. He'd had every intention of putting this chase of theirs to an end tonight. He wanted her so bad by now he could hardly think straight – the fact that he hadn't jumped her when they'd been checking out the porn studio was honestly a miracle. But that had been his plan when Dana was still coherent...before she had started knocking back drinks like the world was about to end. He'd seen enough black-out drunk people in his life to know that while Dana was still walking and talking and drinking, she wasn't really with them anymore. Had it been any other woman, he might not have cared about that. But there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to sleep with Dana when she was like this. One, it would be just plain wrong to take advantage of her like that. And two, when they did finally have sex, Jackson wanted to make damn sure it was something she never forgot.

When Dana started giving Rachel a lapdance, much to the adamant approval of his club brothers, Jackson decided the time had come to take her home. Surprisingly, it didn't take nearly as much convincing as he thought it might. Dana was game as soon as he suggested it, and after saying goodbye to everyone and exchanging several hugs, they were on their way.

On any normal day, Jackson would have thoroughly enjoyed taking a night ride with a beautiful woman on the back of his bike. He would have taken the long way home just so that it would last longer, so that he could enjoy the warm wind against his face and relish in the feeling of an equally warm, supple body clinging to his back. He would have made the most of the ride, probably would have gunned his engine and done something daring like he'd done a hundred times before, just to give his passenger a little scare and have her moving a little closer, clinging a little tighter.

But this was not a normal night. And while the woman on his back was beautiful – hell, she was a fucking knockout – she was also completely and utterly three-sheets-to-the-wind drunk. As they rode along the darkened streets of Charming, Jackson kept his speed down a little and drove with care, worried that if he drove too fast or too recklessly that Dana would lose her grip and fall off the back of the bike. He reached out with one hand to turn his side mirror until he could see her face, wanting to make sure she hadn't passed out or was on the verge of puking as they drove along. Her smiling face appeared in the round mirror, her teeth shining in the light of the streetlamps. She was wearing his helmet, had her eyes closed, and her head leaned back as the wind whipped her hair around, looking very much as though she was enjoying herself.

Jackson gulped and turned his eyes forward again, slowing as they reached a red light. Once they were stopped and the other lanes of cars were crossing the intersection, he turned his head a bit to glance at her over his shoulder. "Hangin' in there, cupcake?" he asked, raising his voice so she could hear him over the rumbling engine of his Harley.

Dana lowered her head to meet his gaze, then sent him a wicked grin. He felt his insides clench as she shifted closer, her hands sliding around his torso until they were resting on his stomach. When he felt her legs pressing just a little closer to his, he couldn't stop his gaze from dropping down to the generous amount of thigh on display. The sight of her shapely leg and pale skin immediately made him wonder how it would feel to have that that thigh under his hand, to feel that leg wrapped around his waist, or maybe even thrown over his shoulder…

"Don't worry about me, Fabio," she said in his ear, her teasing tone pulling him back from the dirty path his thoughts had just ventured down. One of her fingers began tracing small patterns on his stomach and her lips brushed his ear as she spoke, making his whole body tense. "You just concentrate on the road."

Fuck, he mentally cursed, his pants suddenly feeling tighter than normal. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on the road when the woman he'd been fantasizing about was doing shit like that? It wasn't like he didn't enjoy the attention – he'd been lusting after this woman something fierce ever since the night she'd drunkenly sassed him for being a dickhead to her. The fact that she was finally paying some attention to him sent fire right through his very veins, making his whole body heat up. But Dana was absolutely hammered, he strictly reminded himself, which meant she wasn't in her right state of mind. And on top of that, he still had to deliver her to the safety of her home before the alcohol won and she went tumbling off the back of his bike or something. He needed to concentrate on getting back to the house. He'd have a hard time forgiving himself if she ended up in the hospital – or worse – under his watch.

With determination, he ignored the warmth of her hands and body, ignored the pale skin peeking at him out of the corner of his eye, and took a deep breath to steady himself. As soon as the light turned green he hit the gas, driving a little faster this time. The speed must have surprised her, because she held on even tighter, molding herself to his back. Feeling her breasts pressed so tightly to his back made him grit his teeth. He quickly decided that he needed to get Dana home and get her into bed – to sleep, he firmly told himself – while he still had the self-control to do so.

They reached his driveway about five minutes later, and he'd never been so happy to be home. He pulled into the drive and hit the brakes a few feet away from the garage door. Jackson then cut the engine, using his foot to push the kickstand into place. For a moment neither of them moved, but then Dana reached a high-heeled foot onto the pavement of his driveway and stood from the bike, placing her hands on his shoulders for balance as she swung her other leg over the back wheel to join its counterpart. He tried not to look at her legs – which were on full display thanks to the fact that she'd had to hike her skirt up to be able to straddle the bike – but failed miserably. He let his eyes roam the length of them, staring intently when she reached down to pull the hem of the tight skirt back to its appropriate place.

"Your helmet, sir," she said with a playful smile, taking the helmet off of her head and extending it toward him in offering. Jackson took it as she quickly began fixing her hair, then hung it from the handlebar by the chinstrap. She was swaying a bit when his eyes turned back to her, but she managed to hold her own. "Thanks for the ride home," Dana said, "And for tonight," she added, giving him a look that sent a zing of awareness down his spine. "This was the best birthday I've had in years."

"I had some help," he said with a shrug, trying to keep his cool. "But you're welcome, anyway," he added, flashing a quick, lopsided smile. "You only turn thirty once, right?"

She nodded slowly, then jerked her head toward her house. "Walk a girl to her door?" she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Jackson pressed his lips together, but nodded and finally stood from his bike. With a smile on her lips and a gleam in her eyes that made him feel like he was walking into a trap, Dana started across the lawn. He caught up to her in just a few long strides, peering at her from the corner of his eye, ready to catch her if she fell. She lifted her gaze to his, not bothering to hide her smirk when she caught him watching her.

"Hold on," she said, coming to a sudden halt right smack in the middle of her yard. Jackson stopped and turned to her, watching with raised brows as she leaned over to pull off her high heels, giving him a generous view of her cleavage. He didn't even try to stop himself from staring this time. "These heels and this grass," she said, hopping on one leg as she wrestled the offending shoe off, "are not getting along," she finished, wrangling the other shoe off and nearly falling over in the process. "There," Dana said, holding up her shoes like they were trophies. "Much better."

She walked back toward him, zig-zagging a bit as she did, and then, together, they continued on to her front porch. Once they had cleared the small flight of stairs – Jackson had to keep a steadying hand on her back when she misjudged one of them and teetered dangerously – they went up to her front door, where Dana turned around and offered him her shoes. "Could you hold these for a sec?" she asked.

Once he had taken them from her grasp, Dana began rummaging around in her purse until she found her keys. It took a couple of tries, but she finally managed to get the skinny key into the lock, looking quite proud of herself when she finally got the door open. She stepped through, flipped on a light, then turned back to face him, leaning hard against the door frame. Unsure what else to do, he offered her shoes back to her. She took them and tossed them carelessly onto the ground.

"Well…" Jackson said, half tempted to follow her inside and make sure she got into bed alright, but knowing it would probably be safer if he didn't. "I should probably go on home," he told her.

Dana smirked in response before shrugging a shoulder. "You don't have to go home," she said surreptitiously. "In fact, I was thinking about grabbin' myself another drink. Care to join?" she offered.

He knew he shouldn't. He knew he needed to get away from her, that it would be better for all parties involved if he walked away now. But the thought of her drinking even more – and by herself, no less – didn't sit well with him. "You think another drink is a good idea?" he asked, his tone plainly stating that he didn't think it was.

"Trust me, after my little blast from the past tonight I've earned another drink," Dana countered matter-of-factly, her words slurring together a bit. Jackson's eyebrows came together in confusion. Blast from the past? What was she talking about? Before he could ask her to explain herself, Dana was turning around and walking further into her house, shrugging off her jacket and dropping it on the floor in the process. "I'm having a drink. Either come and join me or shut the door," was the ultimatum she gave him.

Jackson watched her walk away, eyes following the sway of her hips, before he cursed under his breath and finally gave in. Steeling himself, he stepped into her house and shut the door before following her.

He found her standing by the kitchen counter lining the right side of the room, pouring what was left of her Jack Daniels into a short glass. "Sorry," she said as she turned to face him, as though she had known that he would follow her all along. "This is the last of it."

Good, Jackson thought as she sighed with defeat and set the empty bottle back down, eyeing it forlornly for a long second. If she was out of alcohol, she couldn't drink. "Probably not a bad thing," he told her with a quirked brow, letting his gaze drift around her kitchen as he stepped a little further in. Minimal decorations, only the necessary furniture present, not a dirty dish in sight. He went to stand near the kitchen sink on the far side of the room and turned his eyes back to her, shoving his hands into his pockets. "After how much you drank tonight, you don't need much more than that, anyway," he added pointedly.

Dana gave an unladylike snort and sent him an unimpressed look, but the alcohol in her system made the expression far less intimidating. "I know my limits, thank you very much." He wasn't so sure she did, actually. Not tonight, anyway. "And don't talk to me like you're my father, Teller," she added, pointing a finger at him, "because you aren't." She paused after that to give him a long, meaningful once over, eyes quickly turning from annoyed to appreciative. "And thank God for that," Dana remarked, leaving him with very little doubts as to what she'd meant by that.

Jackson cleared his throat, diligently ignoring the gleam in her eyes. "What happened tonight?" he asked to change the subject. "What 'blast from the past' are you talking about?"

Dana's eyes immediately went flat and her lips pressed together tightly, her whole body tensing. He knew right away that whatever it was, it definitely wasn't good. Whatever it was, it had to be what had put her in such a funk earlier. He watched as she took a long gulp of her Jack, finishing half of it and wincing a bit as it went down. "Someone called me," Dana answered after a long few moments of silence. "Someone I never expected to hear from again."

He wasn't sure why, but the first conclusion Jackson jumped to was that it had been her ex-husband. "Was it your ex?" he asked, feeling a green-eyed monster start to stamp around in his gut. When Dana shook her head 'no', he felt inexplicably relieved. "Who then?"

Dana sucked in a deep breath and turned her eyes down to the glass in her hand as she swirled what was left of the Jack around. "My brother," she answered quietly.

Oh…shit. He didn't know much about Dana's brother because she'd only mentioned him once and hadn't gone into much detail, but he knew they had not spoken to each other in a very, very long time. And given the fact that Dana had completely shut her brother and her father out of her life, he was pretty sure the two siblings had not parted on good terms. "What did he say?"

Dana took another drink. "Don't know," she said gruffly, avoiding his eyes for a moment. "Didn't listen to the whole voicemail." A faraway look entered her eyes for a second, as though she were looking at something that he could not see, before she shook her head and came back to the present. "Enough about that though. I don't wanna ruin the night by talking about him." Dana then finished her drink, put the glass down, and pinned him with an intense stare. "I'm ready to get out of this dress and get into bed."

He was starting to get very curious about what was going on between Dana and her brother, but he shelved the topic for now. Jackson nodded his agreement, now trying hard not to imagine just how she might look out of said dress. He'd wager she'd look even better than she did in it. "Good idea. You should have some water, too. You'll feel like shit in the morning if you don't."

Dana nodded, then indicated toward the cabinets a few feet away from his head with a nod of her chin. "Glasses are right there," she said. "Get one down for me?"

Jackson nodded and turned toward the cabinets, opening the door closest to him to reveal a few rows of glasses. He reached forward and grabbed the first one that he saw, then closed the door again. Moving back to the sink, he turned on the faucet and started to fill the glass with water…and that's when he suddenly felt hands on his waist and a body pressing in close behind his, making him instantly freeze. "Dana?," he asked uncertainly, turning off the faucet and straightening up to his full height with slight caution.

She ignored him for a moment and pressed closer, her right hand slowly venturing up his torso and up underneath his kutte, feeling and testing out the muscles of his chest. "It isn't fair, you know," she said, her voice a bit lower than usual as she nuzzled her face against his shoulder. "You being this fucking gorgeous," she clarified herself, just in case he was confused. "It makes everything so much harder."

He closed his eyes for a moment and tried not to enjoy the way she was touching him, telling himself she wouldn't be doing this if she was sober. But God, she was standing so close and her body was so warm he could feel it through the leather of his kutte. Or maybe that was just his own body getting warm, he didn't really know anymore. "Dana," he tried again, his voice huskier this time.

"I like the way you say my name," she practically purred.

He pushed away his own raging hormones and forced himself to locate his resolve. Pulling himself together, he set the glass down on the counter and turned around in her arms, placing his hands on her shoulders with the intention of pushing her away. He paused when he got a look at her face, though. Her eyes were bright with desire and her cheeks flushed with arousal, a look he'd been dying to put on her face since they'd started this little chase of theirs. It wasn't what he wanted to see right now, though, not when he was trying so hard to be the good guy for a change. "Dana, you need to stop," he said firmly.

She immediately looked confused. "Why?"

"Because you're shitfaced," he reminded her.

"So?" she asked, clearly not understanding why this was such a problem. "I know you want me. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me," Dana went on to say, pressing in close again until there was no space between them. Jackson hoped she hadn't noticed just what sort of effect she was having on him, but with how close she was, he really didn't see how she couldn't. "I've tried to resist you, Jackson, and I've tried to ignore the way you make me feel. But I don't think I can anymore." It was the first time she'd ever called him by his first name instead of his last. And all be damned if it didn't make his blood boil. He held his breath as she stood on her tip-toes and stretched up so that her lips were right next to his ear. "I want you too, Jackson. I want you more than I've wanted anything in a very long time."

There was no holding back his groan when she turned her head and started pressing slow, leisurely kisses against his neck and throat, one of her hands sliding up into his hair while the other slid around his back. His own grip on her shoulders slackened some and he felt his head tilt back on its own accord, making room for her exploring mouth, his grip on his self-control becoming more precarious by the second. When Dana started trying to pull his lips down to hers for a kiss, however, he came crashing back to reality.

"No," Jackson said firmly, pushing her away again and holding her at arm's length distance, though it felt like torture to do it. "This isn't gonna happen."

She looked thoroughly frustrated, so much so that she opened her mouth to argue. But then, quite suddenly, she froze and the expression on her face turned into an odd one. For a moment she said and did nothing, but then she cringed and placed one hand on her stomach, the other coming up to rest over her mouth. Jackson knew exactly what that meant – that right there was the universal sign for projectile vomit. "I…" She trailed off and cringed again, her face paling. "I don't feel so good." That last glass of Jack had probably done her in.

He would be the first to admit that he wasn't a very big fan of taking care of drunk pukers, but if Dana paying her respects to the porcelain God meant she wouldn't be rubbing up on him like a cat in heat, he'd take it. "C'mon, let's get you to the bathroom," he said, ignoring the uncomfortable tightness of his jeans as he slowly turned her around. Once she'd managed to point them in the right direction, he started guiding her toward the bathroom.

They stumbled their way slowly through her house, turning right into the hallway bathroom once they reached it. As soon as Jackson flipped on the light and Dana caught sight of the toilet, it was like a lever had been pulled – all of the alcohol she'd consumed that night decided it was ready to meet the world and came rushing up with a vengeance. She barely managed to make it to the toilet and get the lid up before she started puking her guts out. Jackson stood over her and held her hair back with one hand, his other hand rubbing circles over her back. When there was nothing left in her system to throw up, he flushed the toilet for her and then helped her up onto shaky feet, holding her steady as she halfheartedly rinsed her mouth out under the sink faucet and splashed her face with water. After she patted her face dry with a towel, she all but fell against him, her eyes heavily lidded now.

"I'm so tired," she said wearily, looking on the verge of passing out at any moment.

Jackson sighed a bit, then locked his arms behind her shoulders and her knees and scooped her up off the ground, holding her bridal style. Once she was settled against his chest, he carried her out of the bathroom and through the open doorway at the end of the hall. He paused once he was in her bedroom and glanced around, taking in his surroundings with interest. He then glanced down at the woman in his arms and let out an audible sigh of relief – in the short amount of time it had taken him to get from her bathroom to her bedroom, Dana had fallen asleep. Feeling rather relieved that this test of his will-power had come to an end, Jackson immediately carried her over to her bed, which she hadn't bothered making up before she'd left. For a brief moment he contemplated taking off her dress – it didn't look very comfortable to sleep in – but then quickly decided against it. He'd tempted himself enough for one night, it was best to just leave it and walk away.

Moving slowly so as not to wake her up, he placed her down on the mattress and pulled the covers up to her neck. He stared at her for a moment, watching as she settled into her own bed, then could not stop his own hand from reaching out to smooth her red hair back away from her face. When Dana sighed and leaned into his touch, it sent a strange thrill through the region of his chest that had nothing to do with the desire still humming through his veins. It actually unnerved him a little, enough to have him immediately pull his hand back and start to walk away from the bed.

He was almost out of the bedroom when he heard her voice. "Jax?"

Jackson paused at the door. Maybe she wasn't asleep after all. "Yeah?"

She didn't move an inch, nor did she even open her eyes. But a smile had formed on her lips. "I don't think you're as bad as everyone says you are."

A quick precession of all the things he'd done in his life flashed before his eyes and he shook his head. "Then you don't know me all that well, Prejean," Jackson said grimly. "Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

Dana nodded and burrowed further into her cover, releasing a long sigh. Jackson watched her for one more second before walking out of her bedroom and closing the door behind him.

---

Are we still friends?