So Thanks again for the reviews and the story alerts adds! Here is a bit more on Bran's complicated background. More will be explained further on. Promise! xxx
Bran hauled her second load from the hardware store to her truck. She placed two large cans of paint with the four other ones in the box on if the pickup. She then tossed the long stick paint roller and a bag of spare rollers, brushes behind the cans of paint. She reached into her purse and pulled out her keys. The box of her truck was starting to fill up more then she expected. Bran went to the hardware store to get paint supplies for the house, as well as replacement light blubs for the back porch but ended up hitting the garden centre attached to the hardware store hard. She had more then half a dozen different kind of flowers on slabs as well as some already potted flowers.
She was planning on doing the inside of the house before starting on the outside but after driving down her street, seeing the other house's lawn's hers just looked like the sad, depressed ugly duckling at the end of the block. Bran had arranged for someone to drop off the lawnmower she brought as well as for someone to come rototiller a portion of her backyard into a garden for her to eventually plant.
"I think I bit of more then I can chew." Bran muttered to herself as she walked around the back of the truck to the driver's side door.
Unlocking her door she climbed into the old 1971 Ford F-100 truck. Her truck wasn't anything special, she was old and well loved. Stella, as Bran liked to call her, had her fair share of scraps and dents from the long miles she had put on her over the years. There was a small dent on the driver's side door from a mini van backing into her in a parking lot a few years back and she had replaced the leather interior more then once from having it slashed by an angry family member.
But she ran good, and never burned a drop of oil. Bran had tricked the truck up when she had gotten serious about the family business. Her grandpa called her 'his little pit bull' for a reason. When she got something between her teeth, she never let it go til it was good and dead. And Bran had wanted to be the best, to earn her stripes the fastest and hear the sound of pride in her father's voice for once, instead of disappointment. Bran made a lot of enemies on her way to the top, and if it took to having a short, double barrel shot gun strapped in under the drivers side of the bench seat in her truck, or the sliding panel in the drivers door where she kept a 9mm gun and 38, then so be it.
When she was younger, Bran used to think she was cursed. Cursed to be the family disappointment because she wasn't hard enough, wasn't a killer by birth. Sure, she excelled at the learning aspect of the family business. She could pick off any target you wanted over great distances that had many of the boys in her training group stumped on. But stick a live target in front of her, she choked. Couldn't pull the trigger, couldn't turn off the emotional part of her brain long enough to kill.
To make matter's worse, her brothers and sister outshone her and were the pride of her father. He never could understand how his fraternal triplets all couldn't be the star killers he wanted them to be. Hadn't he already bred a killer in her oldest brother? Being the youngest and the softest of the three of them earned her more then her fair share of beatings from the old bastard.
Unlike her cousin's, there wasn't a choice for her to choose a less bloody path but still remain the within the family fold. She couldn't be a contact man, she couldn't run the books, or be a buyer. Not one of Brady Jensen's blood. Her father was a legend, had a reputation that stood up against the test of time. And had a perfect kill record that would make a saint weep. Brady was the youngest in the history of hired killers to earn his seat on the Council of Thirteen. The Council being made up of the best assassins, the ones that you never saw coming before it was too late or not at all. The ones that you thought only lived in your nightmares. He earned his seat by the time he was twenty three.
Having a soft bellied child, for Brady was not an option. To say she had daddy issues didn't even scrap the surface. Brady was so ashamed of her he changed her last name to her mother's when she failed her first test. She couldn't even shot a god damn rabbit, back then.
He sure as fuck tried his best to make her something she wasn't. If he couldn't teach her, then he tried to beat into her head. But it wasn't something he did that made her what she was today. No, even the great Brady Jensen couldn't turn his runt of the litter into a cold bloodied killer. The credit wasn't his to take.
Bran never forgot what broke her softness what stripped her of her weakness as her father referred to it. Never forgot what sparked the killer rage that laid buried inside her fragile body. Some killers will tell you they kill with rage, others tell you their numb when they end a life. Detached or focused, it was the only two ways to kill and not get caught. For Bran it was all rage when she started.
But that's what you get when your world is ripped apart five days after your fourteenth birthday. Bran didn't like to think of herself a victim, not a victim of circumstances or her upbringing. But that's what being raped left her feeling like. It was all she could think of lying there, bloody, broken in the ditch that hot summer day somewhere along a back road in Maine.
She remember the moments before she was taken from the back property of her families compound in the rural part of the middle of Maine. It happen so quick, and she was in shock she didn't register to fight back. To struggle against the hands that were pulling at her, and to defend her self from the blows that rained down on her face. But when she woke up to someone moving roughly on top of her, the cold wet dirt one her back and the searing pain between her legs, she fought. And fought but it did her no good, and when the fourth man climb on top she stopped.
When he was done, she whispered in his ear five words she never meant more. ' I'm going to kill you all.'
He laughed, so did his buddy's before they tossed her into the back of the truck they drove. She dosed off and on for while before feeling her battered and broken body in muddy ditch and drove away.
Bran killed her first man when she was the young tender age of fourteen just shy of her fifteenth birthday. Two shots to the forehead, and before he hit the ground she followed his death with three more. And she's never stopped killing since.
Bran shook off the thoughts of her family and her attack. It wasn't a memory she often let creep up on her or even spoke out loud. But like all things that lay buried, they work their way up to the surface at unexpected moments. She was in a better place now, worked hard to fight her demons, to chase back the nightmares and the feeling of unworthiness that plagued her over the years. She was not victim, and she's heard more then once that talking it out makes you feel all better. But Bran knew differently. Nothing made you feel better after being hurt like that, violated like that, used and thrown away like your nothing then standing over those who hurt you and watching their last breaths escape their bodies.
Best fucking counselling out there. And sure as shit cheaper too.
Bran left the hardware store parking lot and returned to the main street. She had list a mile long and wanted to be back at the house by five at the latest. She hit her turning signal and slid into a parking spot on the main st. She turned off the truck and slipped the keys into one of the front pockets of her black purse. She threw open the door of the truck and stepped out of the truck onto the semi busy main st of Charming.
She needed to buy food to fill the empty fridge and cupboards in her kitchen as she eaten the last of the Chinese left over's from her and Juice impromptu dinner date the night before for breakfast and lunch. Then there was the beer and liquor run, and she wanted to bring some fresh flowers home.
Checking her watch, Bran hissed at the time. She had spent way to much time at the hardware store and needed to get her ass in gear.
Juice leaned against the tow truck and waited for Chibbs to get out of the corner store. He had dashed in for something cool to drink as the heat was getting both of them. Just as Chibbs came out of the corner store, Juice heard the rumble of bikes coming down the street. He turned his head in the direction of the noise and saw Op and Tig roll up dressed in their cuts and leather. They backed their bikes in behind the Teller-Morrow tow truck and took off their helmets.
"Hello boyo's." Chibbs reached them and handed Juice his coke. He cracked open his own bottle and when the first of the dark bubble liquid hit his dry throat he wished for some whisky to go with it.
"Clay called for church tonight." Tig informed the two of them as both men nodded. "Gemma's doing a dinner after, round eight or so. It goes without saying you should be there."
Juice knew what was going to be on the agenda for church that evening and was in the process of trying to figure out an excused to back out of dinner when he hear Opie's low whistle.
"She looks even better then yesterday." Opie's eyes danced back and forth from Juice to Jax's friendly neighbour as she left flower store with an arm full of fresh cut flowers. She was down the street a bit from them, busy leaning into the passenger side of her truck on the other side of the street.
Juice bit the inside of his cheek in a grimace, Bran looked good alright. She was wearing bright green tight as sin cut off shorts and a white tank. Her hair was up in a pony tail and she was giving them a good show of her luscious ass from where they were parked.
"You know her?" asked Tig, pulling down his shades to get a better look at the honey Opie had called their attention to. He watched as she closed the door of the truck and started down the street at a clipped pace. She ducked into liquor store, two shops down from the flower store she just left.
"She's Jax's new neighbour." Opie commented as Chibbs stood up a little bit straighter and looked at Juice.
"Oh Juicy boy!" Chibbs laughed and slapped the younger man on the back. "That's my boy."
"What are you talking about?" Tig asked, obviously he had not been educated by Jax earlier like Chibbs had been.
"That my brother is Juice's new lady friend." Chibbs informed Tig as Juice drank his coke in silence. He knew what was coming. He always caught shit from Tig. It was Tig's goal in life to feed him shit.
"No shit." Tig took another look towards Bran's truck before turning back to Juice. "You hit that Juice?"
"No." Juice stated gripping his bottle a little tighter then normal. He respected Tig, liked him most days but he knew exactly where he was going with this. And it pissed him off.
"Well then, since you haven't claimed her I'll just go take a crack at her." Tig grinned at the scowl on Juice's face. It was too easy to push his brother's buttons and it was very satisfying to do.
Tig made his way across the street, as Bran exited the store carrying an arm full of brown paper bags. She was fumbling with the driver side when she heard the sound of heavy footsteps.
Tig watched as the small women turn her head towards him. She had a heart shaped face, large eyes and plump lips that were made for kissing. Her black frame, square glasses made the green in her hazel eyes pop more, and he could have swore he saw a faint hicky at the base of her creamy white neck. He registered the small cut on her bottom lip, but paid it no mind. How ever it happened, wasn't his business. When he eyes trailed down from her face, he was not disappointed. She had more then a handful of perky full tits, flat stomach and a curvy bottom.
"You got something to say or you just going to stand there and prev old man?" Bran frowned and glared at the older man who was dressed in the same cut as Juice wore the night before. She knew you did better with honey then vinegar but that leering expression on his face was just begging for a hard right to it.
"I hear you new in town." Tig recovered from his observations long enough to drag his eyes back up to her face. He caught the angry look and the hot glare she was giving him. He liked feisty girls, it was one of his favourite games to dominate them despite what others thought. Sure it was always easier to fuck the easy meek and more then willing girls but nothing satisfied a man's ego and pride more then taming the smart mouth, bitchy chick.
"Small town, word travels fast apparently." replied Bran turning her body slightly to put the alcohol down on the floor boards of the truck.
"I could show you around, I know a lot of great places." Tig leaned in, shifting his stance so he rested against the truck, caging her in between him and the open passenger door.
"Your a friend of Juice's, right?" Bran asked, nodding towards the cut on Tig's back. She noted the knife on his hip, similar to Juice's and the faint outline of the two guns he had hidden underneath his cut in gun holster's. She placed a hand on her passenger seat, knowing that it would only take her two point five seconds to pull out her nine underneath the seat, if she needed to. She hardly thought she would need to, she recognized what this little conversation was about.
She really hated pissing contest between men. Really, her second day in Charming?
"Yeah, we're apart of the same club." Tig replied, not liking that she mentioned Juice's name. Women don't talk about the intelligence officer to the Sgt in Arms. His was higher position in the club hierarchy, there for he was used to being preferred over his brother. " I'm Tig."
"That's great Tig." Bran told him. "But if I need someone to show me around, I'll ask Juice."
Tig was momentarily stumped. Did she just turn him down? For Juice?
Juice watch the interaction between Bran and Tig. He noted the leering way Tig was behaving which wasn't out of his character at all. Most girls fall at his feet to have him look at them like that. But Juice had already figured out that Bran wasn't the usual free pussy any of them were used to. She was more Tara then cro eater.
"You going to let him step in your shit, Juice?" Opie asked him as he leaned against his bike starring down the street. In his opinion Juice let Tig razz him more then he should. Sure it was great entertainment for the rest of them, but Juice wasn't no prospect anymore. He earned his place at the table, and if sometimes Opie had to push him into standing a little taller then he would. Just like Juice had stepped up and been a shoulder for him. Not that he went all pussy on Juice with his problems but knowing that Juice and Jax were there for him was enough.
"I'm not jealous." Juice stated, tearing his eyes away from the scene down the street to look at Opie.
Sure as shit he was, Opie thought. The clenched jaw, and narrowed eyes with the aggressive stance said something else about his brother's none jealous state. Opie knew Tig like to fuck around with Juice, it went with the territory of being the newest patched member, Juice only have a few years into the MC. Juice was going to have squash this thing that Tig was playing at soon.
"Bran looks pissed, brother." Opie told Juice, knowing that he caught the angry look she was shooting Tig. This girl did not like to be pushed up on, it was refreshing to see that was for sure. She reminded him of Donna in a small way like that.
"Tigger doesn't look like he's making any headway with you lass." Chibbs was enjoying the scene before him. It wasn't often a Son got turned down, even the prissy bitches at the church who shook their spiritual finger at them wanted to get down on their knees and suck some Son's cock.
"I'll be back." Juice told them as he took a drink of his coke and moved away from the tow truck. He took long strides down the street and cast a quick look for oncoming traffic as he cross the street. He heard the last part of the conversation between the two and smiled, it must have hurt Tig a little bit to swallow that.
Bran watched the older man frown and fumble for a reply as she heard footstep approach them. She moved her body around Tig to see Juice approaching them at a clipped pace. The smile that spread across her face was hard to contain. She was generally happy to see Juice, as his infectious personality was hard not to enjoy. And he was far better company then his creepy buddy. "Hey Juice."
Tig watched the transformation play out on the pretty girls face in front of him. The look she was giving his brother was a far cry from the one she was giving him. She went from hostile with a side of bitchy to warm, open and that quick flash of lust in her eyes he caught before it disappeared.
Shit, Juice was already knee deep in this bitch, he wasn't going to be able to budge him out of her. That bit at Tig a bit, as he watched her come around him, making sure she didn't brush up against him and move towards Juice.
"Bran, I see your making your way around town." Juice looked in the back of the truck and saw it almost filled to the brim. Yeah, she'd been a busy girl today, and looked like she would be for a while." Hit the hardware store hard, huh?"
"Don't think there's much for anyone else left there, I'm afraid." Bran replied as she pushed the end of her pony tail off the back of sweaty neck. She took in the blue and white mechanic uniform that Juice was wearing and figured he was on break or something from work. The coke in his hand made her throat feel as dry as the desert.
"I've got a day off in a few, if you need help I can swing by. Maybe get the house painted faster." Juice offered, trying to sound causal. He was nervous, knowing that Tig was starring at him and inspecting his game waiting for a weak spot to appear so he could pounce.
"That would be great but I could actually use some help later tonight if your not busy, I mean." Bran moved a bit closer, reaching for the coke bottle in Juice's hand. He released it with out a struggle and watched as she brought the glass bottle to her lips. When she was done drinking, her tongue darted out and lick a drop of coke off her lips. He sucked in a breath as he watched that little pink tongue slip back into her mouth. He imagined it licking something else.
"Sure, babe. Whatever you need."
"I'm having an awful hard time getting the frame of my bed put together. " Bran told him, playing up the helpless angle a bit more then she really needed. It was a bit hard trying to hold the two pieces of frame together while attempting to screw the screw in, she was going to ask Tara today but with her leaving early and this just seemed the perfect opportunity to back Tig off without coming off more a bitch then she had already.
Juice caught the sly look in her eyes and smiled. "I think I can clear my schedule up later tonight. You should give you me your number so I can call you when I'm on my over."
Bran watched him dig out his phone from his front pocket, and she handed back the coke when she took his phone from him. She added her contact information and handed it back to him. " Thanks, Juice. I'll make you dinner, for being so helpful and all."
"Can I bring anything?" he asked shoving the phone back into his pocket.
"Just beer. I'll have everything else." and with that she placed her hands on either side of his head, resting them on his shoulders and stood up higher on her tip toes and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "Thanks again, Juice. "
Tig watched her turn from Juice and move passed him.
"Oh, Tig could you close my door? Thanks, your a doll." Bran tossed over her shoulder as she continued on her way down the street to the market Tara told her about earlier.
She barely heard Tig's hissed words through the bustle of the street.
"Fucking home repair? Really, that's what got you into her panties."
Juice laughed, and started to walk back towards the tow truck feeling like he was the shit. " You know me, Tig I'm always helpful."