The welcome home party was in full swing. Music blared, there was a very flexible stripper on the pool table, and Half-Sack had two women vying for a spot on his lap. All the brothers from out of town who'd come to help with the search and rescue had stayed for the celebration. Tig was happy. He kissed one of the crow-eaters as he moved through the chaos to the bar. She tried to shove her tongue down his throat and her hands roamed under his shirt. He disengaged and pointed her towards Half-Sack, giving her a firm push. She was drunk, but she took the hint.

At the bar, Tig claimed two bottles of beer, then grabbed a third. He left the main room of the club house. In the hallway, it was quieter, but only just. A Tacoma prospect was looking bored and leaning against the wall outside Jax's apartment. He looked at the beer in Tig's hands longingly.

Tig handed the man a bottle, and said, "I got this one for a bit."

"It's your party, brother," said the prospect, though he clearly wanted off guard duty.

"I owe the lady." Tig smiled.

The prospect winked, and was happy to take the beer and scram. Tig knocked at the door, waited for a moment, then cautiously entered.

Anne was sitting cross-legged on the couch with a magazine in her lap. Her eyes were large and anxious as they fixed on him, but she relaxed when she saw he was alone. He closed the door behind him, which dulled but did not hide the raucous party in the building.

"Hey babe." He sat to put them at eye level, rather than looming over her. He passed her one of the beers and set his own on the coffee table. "Hope the noise ain't bothering you too much."

She shrugged. "Loud music is the least of my problems right now."

"Yeah, well. You're safe here." Tig watched her carefully. "What I don't understand is how a Canadian chick ended up in a Lodi warehouse. Care to shine any light on that?"

Anne took a long drink from the beer and stared past him, at nothing. Oh well. If there was anything to find, Juice would find it. Tig sighed. "Later then. You feeling okay?"

"All things considered." She shrugged. "Can't sleep, though."

"I get that."

The silence stretched out, and Tig thought he'd misjudged how much Anne trusted him. Then she closed her eyes and spoke. "I've never killed anyone before. Should I feel something? I don't feel anything at all."

Tig put a hand on her shoulder, the way he would with a brother. She flinched, as if waiting for him to do more. When he didn't move, she relaxed and leaned into his touch. Anne turned and curled against him, her cheek against his chest. Tig settled his arm around her, liking the way she fit there, small and quiet at his side. Her hair smelled clean and tangled softly in his beard.

"There's no rules on how you should feel. Connor got what he deserved." Tig said firmly. He took her delicate hand in his own, squeezing it lightly for emphasis. "You looked out for me and Kip in there. We're gonna look out for you here. We'll get you home."

Tig loved women. He loved everything about their bodies, the softness of their skin and the way they sounded when they were happy. However, he didn't spend much time cuddling them, and if he did, it was a part of something a lot sweatier than this. Tig found it hard to not think about the lithe legs and curves that lay under the oversize shirt Anne was bundled up in. It was, however, too soon to push anything on her. He wanted her, but didn't want to break her.

Anne's head lifted, and Tig thought she was going to push him away. And then her lips softly touched his neck. She stayed there for a moment, her breath warm on his throat, and Tig swallowed. "Aw, baby, you keep doing that and it's going to go to places I don't think you're ready for."

He felt her lips curve in a smile against his skin. She kissed this neck again, and traced his jaw line with lightly scraping fingernails. Compared to a crow eater's overt seduction, this was the barest whisper of an invitation, but the message was clear. His hand tightened on hers as he wrestled with himself.

"I choose this." She said, voice firm. "I want to feel something that I choose, instead of something forced on me. All I'm asking from you is this, right now."

"Oh god."

Her fingertips stroked his face as her lips pressed warmly against his throat. Tig gave in. His own nerves were frayed after the time with the Nords, and Anne was offering herself up as a warm and clean thing to use. He stood and took Anne by the shoulders, pulling her up and guiding her firmly towards the bed. She went willingly.

Anne was astonishingly passionate. Tig had expected to coax her into fucking him. It had never crossed his mind that she'd be the one practically pulling him into bed. She responded to his touch with quiet moans and shivers, and her hands were artful. Her fingernails drew lines of red down his back, digging harder at his groan. She moved as if connected to him. The last few women Tig had fucked, it hadn't been much more than mutual masturbation. Anne, however, seemed to always know what touch he wanted, even before he did. When he'd imagined fucking her, a faintly guilt-tinged pleasure, he'd assumed she'd be a passive and innocent lay. Although there was something guileless and innocent about her, she mirrored his joy in the act.

Her only hesitation was when he entered her. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelids trembled, and her body went still. He held his breath and kissed her as tenderly as he knew how, to let her know that he wasn't Connor.

"Let me erase him, baby."

Anne's eyes opened, and she looked at him with raw, aching need. Her back arched, and she came alive under him. Her breasts pressed against his naked chest, and she bit his ear hard enough to almost bring him over the edge. Tig lightly kissed the bruises at her throat and then her lips. She moaned into his mouth, and he grinned, kissing her roughly and thoroughly. Before long, she was breathing hard and her eyes were blank with pleasure. She came with a low, sweet cry, and Tig came right behind her.

Afterwords, Anne lay on her stomach next to him. She'd pulled the sheet around herself, self-conscious, but Tig had tugged it back down to her waist. He traced the tattoo on her upper back with an idle hand, trying to think of designs that would hide the swastika. The partially healed welts from Connor's hand weren't as bad as the ones on Half-Sack's skin, but they were bad enough. It bothered him, but he was enjoying the softness of her skin and the darkness of her hair against its paleness. He felt perfectly calm for the first time since he'd woken up in the Nord warehouse. Anne also looked sleepy.

"Hey, I'm the one who's supposed to roll over and fall asleep."

She gave a purring groan and muttered. "I'm not going to stop you."

He snorted, but watched over her until her breathing evened out and her body relaxed. He traced fingers down her cheek, but she didn't react at all. He left the bed and dressed quietly, but there was so much noise coming from the party outside that he realized there wasn't much point in trying. Anne was out for the count. She didn't stir when he pulled the blanket up to her shoulders.

In the hallway, he found Gemma. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, a cigarette in her hand. She waited until he'd closed the door behind him before saying, "Really?"

"Uh. Hey Gem."

"You're tapping that ass? After all that? Were you hitting it when you inside too?"

"No, jeeze, Gemma." He ran a hand through his hair. "It wasn't like that. She's not like that. She just wanted to call the shots on something, I think."

Gemma's cynical glare was unwavering. "You planning on keeping her?"

"I don't think she wants to be kept."

Gemma sighed. "Hope not. If she's broken winged birdie, I don't think the MC lifestyle is going to suit her any. You know anything about that girl?"

"Not really, no."

"I'm worried about you, Tig."

"Aw, Gem, I'm tougher than this shit. And I'm pretty sure she is too."

"Hope you're right." Gemma gave him a warning look. "Shit like you guys went through can make you a bit crazy. That girl is bound to be fucked up right now, and I wouldn't blame her for it at all. Be careful, Tig."

There was nothing to say to that. Tig kissed Gemma's cheek and went to find some unlucky prospect to watch Anne's door. There was a party going on, and that was where Tig belonged.