A/N: So, here's chapter 3. Hope those involved with this story already find it to their liking. As before, grammatical errors and what not were taken care of to the best of my ability. Thanks for all the follows and faves already. More will come soon. Any feedback is appreciated. Again, thanks for the support of it.

xxTish

Disclaimer:I own nothing but the twisted rambling and plotting of my mind.

I woke up the next day in a haze. Jack was an old friend, but he wasn't a very good one. My head throbbed in the bright early California sunshine. Standing with a stretch, I made my way to the bathroom to try and make something of my road worn self. The only provision I had at the moment was simply rinsing my mouth with water to get the sleep and stale whiskey taste from my mouth. Everything I had was packed away. And what was in my small duffle bag in the truck was dirty from travel, the clothes on my back were dirtier than my day old clothes.

I grabbed mom's old red bandanna, before combing through my hair with my fingers and twisting it back before slipping on the bandanna. It wasn't the best look, but it would do. I wasn't no Bettie, but I'd pass for now as maybe that riveter. I did my best gun-show for my mirror before laughing at myself and walking back into the living room to grab my wallet.

I had a few before the moving crate arrived, coffee was definitely in order. Only as I walked out the front door, I was met with a large black van, bikers and what I looked like a small flat bed holding Delilah in place. I could feel my shoulders slump as Tig dismounted and took off his helmet. He didn't speak until he had his glasses folded into his shirt.

" I hear you're moving in?"

"Technically, I did that yesterday."

"Funny, that usually requires at least furniture, Hellion." First off, how the hell did he know I didn't have furniture. Shady prick, had to of had someone watching. I ignored the bullshit and opted for something safer to respond to for now.

"You remember that, huh?" That damned name. I was probably five the last time Tig ever gave me a ride on the back of his bike, and it was from that lovely trip did I get that nickname. We had run into a charter of of hells angels. A few sassy women capable of giving it back to Tig as much as he gave it. Only I ended up causing them a few issues. I may have only been Five, but I was a bit sassy for my age. I knew too much at a young age. Fucking Renee.

"How could I forget, that was the day my daughter stood up for her old man."

"If by knocking over the bitches bikes for the shit they called you, equals standing up for an ass then yeah. I guess you could say that. "

"If hell had angel's sweetheart, you'd be one."

"Damn skippy, Tigger."

Just then Jax stepped forward with a thermos of coffee.

"Its from my mom, consider it a peace offering."

I greedily took it, "Better to have uneasy peace than bloody war."

"Exactly, now you get it."

"Kiss my ass, Jax. "

"Just say where beautiful."

"Do you have some narcissistic split personality disorder or something..." I questioned out loud at his strange new polite behavior. Where was the serious bad ass with the name calling and attitude problem.

"You haven't even the slightest idea about me Darlin, I wouldn't try figuring it out. Wouldn't be healthy, babe."

"Jesus, stop dancing around each other and fuck already." The one named happy smarted off. Neither me, Jax or Tig seemed particularly happy with his remark. Before Either could remark, I made my way over to him.

"Happy right? You want to know what makes a woman like me truly happy? When boys like you realize that I'm not like the rest. I'm not like the vultures you're used to. You see, Happy, Vultures are scavengers, the linger around, looking for an easy feed. Taking what ever is left from the hunt of another. Unlike my mother, I'm a little more selective in what I bed. I'm more like a wolf," My hand reached out grabbing his cock tightly through his jeans letting my nails press sharply into his tender bits, "Women like me need a little more meat on the bone." While he was still curled over from my grip i pushed him back letting him topple over his bike. Then turned to face the rest.

"Like I told Jax last night, I don't give a fuck about your names, status in this town, money or what ever the fuck helps you boys sleep at night. You want to retaliate, use a little in home or street justice for what I just did or my mouth. Do it. I've lived through worse. Nothing any of you boys do will change who I am, what I believe in or live for. Tig may have a genetic tie to me, but that is all. I bend at the knee for no man. EVER, " I looked to Jax then, " Your little pep talk last night? I accept, but you also have to accept that this is me. You boys want to get to know me. Fine, just don't expect me to water myself down because you boys cant handle a woman like me at 100 proof. Take it or leave it. If I were you, Id choose the latter. So much wiser."

"What the hell happened to you, sweetheart?" Tig asked.

"Hell Happened, Tigger. Pure Hell." I smiled sweetly at the man that was my kin.

"Jesus, baby."

"Don't! Don't. You. Dare. You haven't earned that. You gave up that right the day you sold your rights away to Charlie and Renee. I might be your blood, but that is all we have now. I'm not your baby; Your daughter. All I am is the unfortunate outcome of your lack in skill to pull the fuck out. Get over it."

Just then the moving company dropped off the crate that held all of Charlie and Renee's things that I decided to keep with me. They loaded into the drive almost wordlessly. I signed off on the paper work but as I turned around I saw the guys already breaking the lock and opening the damn thing.

"What the hell, guys?!"

"It's nothing, let the guys do this, Bella. Its what family is here for." Said the woman from yesterday as she got out of a gaudy Cadillac coupe.

"Who are you, again?"

"Gemma Teller; My old Man is Clay, and my son is Jax. We didn't really get a chance to talk the other day. Or to be properly introduced." she glared at Tig, and he looked away. Something I didn't miss was the way they all shied off a bit around her. Like they were used to her calling a few shots. I surmised that if she was married to Clay, she had sway and each of them knew it too.

And Damn, did she know how to quell the boys. Color me impressed. Momma harpy has a tight reign in the nest. Not a great attribute for me however, Women like Gemma can be a blessing and a nightmare. Expert manipulators and cunning liars. My mother was very much like Gemma as was Rosalie and Alice. Though I think that little Miss Stepford wife aka, Esme Cullen took the cake even on Gem.

"Well, I'd say you are a right Gem. Living up to the name quite well."

"Stop kissing ass, sweetheart. You're family. It's only right. Kissing ass wont get you anywhere with this family."

"I don't kiss anyone's ass Gem. I'm just calling it as I see it. Figured might as well let you know that I know exactly what you're doing. Your kind are easy to spot. You see, my mom was very much like you. She was quite capable of pulling off the sweet and dumb act. Manners morals or scruples, she'd bend them to serve her purpose and justify it with some sort of excuse that met her need. But at the end of the day, she was quite capable of cutting your heart out to use it as leverage. She was a real peach, with one hell of a pit. Where as you, you're a gem. A stone cold, cut, and faceted bitch. All shine and edge like a pristine diamond. But at the end of the heart of who you are, you're simply a fancy piece of coal. Dirty and good at generating heat. You're trouble wrapped up in a bow. The only difference between you and others like you; is your bow is Cartier while most other women are pawn value." I turned my back to the woman and walked back toward the house trying to escape the breech in personal space from her or the men associated with her. All the while trying to sip down the sludge in a fancy thermos passing for coffee.

Her rant following could have made a sailor blush. It was cute though how a few of the men thought they had to put themselves between the two of us as I walked away.

"Get over yourself, Woman. If words offend you, then you're weaker than half a sack. No offense grunt." I added toward Half-sack as he lifted a couch with Happy out of the crate.

"Not a single one taken, Miss Bella."

"Shit, just... Set it in side. I'm not nearly caffeinated enough to fight you all back this morning. And it's far too early to make this sludge Irish." I called out to the guys giving in to their unwanted help, as I looked at the motor oil someone called coffee after my third attempt to sip on it.

"Who made this crap again?" I asked to no one in particular.

"I did, sweetheart." Gemma Sneered from within Clay's arms.

"I'd stick to looking Pretty for Clay then, Gemma, its what you seem to be best at." I poured the crap into the yard, and walked inside pausing when I saw Tig crouched around the box of nostalgia that I had failed to put away some where safe and away from prying eyes.

"Shit." I cursed. Weather it was toward him, the club or my own personal stupidity. I wasn't ready to go through this today. Or if I ever would be.