***
Thank you for all the reviews—I really like seeing them pop up in my email during the day.
I've still got more story, but work is taking a lot of energy right now while I struggle with a steep learning curve. I need to write another chapter or two from scratch before I get into scenes I wrote before I started publishing.
While I was working on this chapter, I listened to the song Superman Tonight by Bon Jovi. It seems appropriate for the kind of relationship Tig and Anne have.
"There's something about you
I want to rescue
I don't even know you
So what does that mean
Maybe I'm cynical
I'm painfully logical
You're tragic and beautiful
And that's good enough for me."
Oh, Bon Jovi, your sticky sweet love songs always leave me feeling squishy, you bastard.
-B.
***
It would have been so easy to follow Anne into Jax's apartment. She was sleepy, but there was an invitation in the curve of her smile and the way her hand lingered on his arm. She didn't say a word, and her eyes stayed gentle when he stepped back and turned away. Tig couldn't understand how a woman capable of such icy calculation and vicious execution was so very sweet with him.
No chains, she'd said. But Tig could feel the chains of temptation reeling him in. He didn't want to hurt her, but the more time he spent with her, the more it was likely to happen. Matters of blood aside, Anne had done Sam Crow more than one solid favour in the Nord warehouse. For that, she deserved better than Tig had to offer. He loved women, but never for very long. Her vulnerability made her precious, but she'd been hurt enough without the folly of setting her heart on Tig.
The fact that he could be fucking a beautiful and willing woman at this moment, and the certainty that he wasn't going to… that was a chain. His affection for Anne controlled him.
His bed felt empty. Usually, he liked it that way. Tig slept fitfully, dreaming of blood and screaming. He saw Anne in the Nord warehouse, but it wasn't Connor she stabbed—it was Agent Stahl. She looked over her sister's body at him and her eyes were black with hate. He reached for her, to pull her away from the growing puddle of blood, but she cringed as if he terrified her.
The body at their feet wasn't Stahl anymore. It was Donna. He could hear Anne crying, and Tig hated himself.
On waking, alone and surly, Tig dressed and went to find Clay. It was time to get Anne out of Charming.
***
Things seemed to move very quickly once Clay decided to lay things out with the Nords and contacted Darby. Tig waited outside the prison with Happy and Bobby while Clay dealt with the imprisoned Nord leader; no Son travelled alone since the attack. When Clay stepped back out into the sunlight, a deal had been struck.
Darby denounced Connor as a sociopathic maniac whose actions jeopardized every commercial and ideological goal the Nords held dear. He would use his influence to smooth the jagged edges Matthew Connor left behind. So long as Anne kept her mouth shut, no Nord would touch her. Darby, of course, was pleased with the whole thing. Connor leaving the Nordics so terribly vulnerable handed all the power back into Darby's hands.
It was, Tig reflected, a shit deal for Anne. If he was in her position, with the potential wrath of ATF at her fingertips, he wasn't sure he'd have made the same choice. However, ATF coming down on the Nords with all the ammo a pretty, mainstream and martyred woman could bestow them was bad news for everyone with one foot on the wrong side of the law. Anne keeping her mouth shut was the best thing for the Sons. Meanwhile, Anne didn't want anyone to know what had been done to her, or what she, in turn, had done.
Tig had not touched Anne since the evening on the roof. He kept his distance. He tried not to watch her with Half-Sack, but his eyes always sought her out. He wanted her. He wanted her gone.
She was waiting for them, anxious to learn the result of the deal, sitting at the bench outside Teller-Morrow. Predictably, Half-Sack was sprawled next to her. Anne had approved of approaching Darby, but talking about the Nords made her visibly distressed. Over the last few days, she'd been calmer and less skittish, but there were still Sons who she flinched away from. Making deals with Nords was way out of her comfort zone, and she'd faded back into Kip's shadow.
"You've got work to do." Tig raised an eyebrow at Half-Sack. The boy gave him a cautioning look but silently scooted off the table and went back to the garage.
Happy slowed as he walked past, his eyes on Anne, who looked away. Tig waited until his brothers were inside before he sat next to her.
"Well?" Anne said.
"Darby thinks he can enforce that deal and keep the Nords off you. When he gives the word, we'll put you on a plane home."
Anne didn't react at all for a moment, and then she stood.
"Thank you." She said, quietly, and turned to walk back into the clubhouse.
Tig didn't think. He reached out and caught her wrist before she could leave. Anne flinched violently, and he remembered how Connor had similarly controlled her. She recovered her composure quickly, but Tig felt like a bastard and released her. The look she turned on him was one of heart-ache.
"Aren't you happy?" Tig asked.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Her smile was ironic.
"You won't always be this scared."
She shrugged. Her deep green eyes sought his for understanding. "I killed a man. It was easy. And now I'm going to go back to helping kids figure out what's right and wrong? I don't know what's right and wrong anymore."
"You'll find a way through it. You're tough."
"Yeah. I will. But that life isn't going to fit anymore. I'm going to have to build something new." She bit her lip. "And I'm never going to look at another one of those shithead delinquent kids the way I used to."
Tig laughed. "Shithead delinquent kids. Is that the professional term?"
Some humour lit her green eyes. "Only when they're shitheads. Some of them are just jerks."
Tig stood. "Babe, you're gonna be just fine. C'mon, celebratory drink?"
"Oh god, yes."
It wasn't the first time he'd heard those words from her lips. Tig grinned. Anne seemed to sense what he was thinking and shook her head, a faint blush rising on her pale cheeks.
Anne was a confident but moderate drinker. She'd drink hard liquor, but stuck to her limit despite the entreaties of Half-Sack, Juice and Chibs, who claimed it wasn't a celebration unless you passed out at the end of it. Tig found that he liked being the one at her side, leaving Half-Sack across the bar. A buzzed Anne was surprisingly fun. She laughed more, gradually warming to brothers other than Tig and Kip.
The hour turned and activity in the clubhouse increased. It was a Friday. Sons and associates were playing pool and drinking. Not so rowdy as a party, but rowdy enough. Usually Anne retreated long before the music was turned up. Tonight, she stayed at Tig's side, drunk enough to laugh at Juice's story about Half-Sack and the dead deer while Kip protested.
Tig looked around the room and thought about Anne's place with Sam Crow. She had distanced herself thoroughly; but alone with him, and now drunk on rum, the sparks of personality that showed through convinced him that her remoteness was a reaction to trauma, not her normal state. In this moment, surrounded by brothers with a drink in her hand, Anne looked like she belonged. She was wearing one of Tara's sleeveless shirts and had shed Kip's hooded sweatshirt earlier in the evening. Her hair was tousled around her face in loose curls. She was beautiful and relaxed, all traces of her grief and fear pushed back by rum and will-power.
His gaze fell on Happy, who was playing pool across the room. The Nomad's eyes lifted to Anne as her laugh rang out, then shifted to Tig. His expression spoke clearly—if you don't want that, I do.
Tig snorted. No surprise that Happy was twisted enough to tumble a girl who'd threatened him with a knife. Tig was the same kind of twisted. It wasn't a hard decision to make. He doubted Happy would find much traction with the girl—she was particularly edgy with the Nomad. However, he didn't want to see Happy try. Tig reached out and pushed a lock of Anne's hair behind her ear. It wasn't just a flirtatious gesture; it was a way of marking territory. Her bright eyes cast him a brief and gauging look. When Tig put his arm around her waist, she went still, then relaxed.
There was still a risk in letting himself have Anne, even for a few nights, but knowing that her time was limited made him feel safer. She'd leave, and things would go back to normal. In the meantime, enjoying the short-term company of an attractive woman was what Tig did best.
The bartender was busy, so Tig stood and reached for a bottle, filling the empty shot-glass in Anne's hand. As he leaned over her, he breathed the sweetness of her scent and let her soft hair brush against his arm. She protested the shot, but Tig lowered his mouth to her ear and whispered. "You do this for me, I'll make it worth your while."
It was delightful to be with a woman who blushed. She hesitated, as if letting him think she might reject his offer, then she downed the shot in one smooth movement. She smiled ruefully and leaned back against his chest, tilting her head to whisper back at him. "Drinking like this, I really don't think I'm going to be able to make it back to my bedroom on my own."
Tig slid a hand over her thigh and squeezed lightly. Anne shivered. Then she dragged her fingernails lightly across his hand. He grinned.
Across the bar, Half-Sack knew perfectly well what was going on. He raised his beer bottle to Tig in a salute, and left the bar to follow a crow eater he'd been with at the welcome-home party. There was no resentment on his face.
Later, tangled together in Anne's bed, she was fierce. There was a note of desperation to her as she moved against him. Every time he started to take control, she'd push him back and distract him with her mouth and hands. It was very distracting, and it took him some time to realize that this was her way of dealing with pain. Tig was hesitant to be rough with her, after all she'd been through, but enough was enough. He firmly seized her and rolled to put her beneath him. She made a noise of protest and pushed back, but Tig was insistent and much stronger than she was.
There was a brief battle of wills in their locked gazes before she surrendered. Anne closed her eyes and let him press his lips against the faded bruises on her throat. Her moan made him grin, and he moved across her unresisting body while her hands tangled loosely in his hair.
Tig stayed the night, drowsing with Anne curled tightly against him. She occasionally twitched in her sleep, as if chasing nightmares, but would subside when he ran a hand over her tangled hair or down her naked side. He realized, with some regret, that he would miss her when she left.