HOUSE OF CARDS

Chapter Three

When Jax strode into Lucky's the following Tuesday night, he was surprised by the sudden wave of anxiousness that flushed through him. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him…the only thing that could really make him nervous was his mother and even then, it had to be something pretty serious for her to extract that sort of reaction from him. But the second his feet crossed the threshold and the smoky, stale air enveloped him, he felt a slight flurrying in his stomach. What the hell was that about?

The answer to that question materialized right before his eyes as he took in the sight of Ava behind the bar. She was laughing at something a patron was saying to her and as her head tilted backwards, his heart stuttered in his chest. He could count of on one hand the number of times he'd had a conversation with her but yet she still had this effect on him. When her dancing eyes turned in his direction, he was relieved to see something in them other than what he'd seen last Saturday night.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she retreated into the darkness that night…and he couldn't really pinpoint why either. Maybe he had just wanted to make sure she wasn't seen. Maybe he just wanted to make sure she made it back to her car in one piece. But what would he have done if the wrong person caught her? He knew he would've stayed exactly where he was, watching, but that was it. He didn't know this girl and while he wasn't about to negate on the prospect of sleeping with her, he couldn't get knee-deep in anything beyond that.

But still…right before she'd disappeared into the darkness shrouded by the tree line, she'd turned back and her expression was something to one a deer has right before it's about to be hit by a car. Her eyes were almost sunken into her face but they were so wide…so scared. It was almost as if she was expecting to be caught and the punishment that would go along with it. That haunted, agonized look in her eyes had just about gutted him right where he sat. If he'd been able to, he probably would've jumped off the bleachers right then, jogged over to her, and taken her home himself. Sleeping with her had been the furthest thing on his mind in that moment—and if he was being completely honest with himself, he knew that was the thing that set him off-balance the most.

When she moved around the side of the bar and stepped more into the open, his original intention quickly snapped back into place, right where it should be. She wasn't wearing a skirt this time around but that didn't really matter. He figured she'd look good in just about anything. Tonight, she was just wearing jeans and lacy black tank-top which was more than good enough for him.

As Jax, Opie, Chibs, and the prospect slid into the same booth they'd occupied almost a week ago, Jax was having a difficult time keeping his eyes away from the front of the bar. He wanted to go up there—make sure his presence was known—but he needed a legitimate reason to do that first. He didn't really need Ope or Chibs figuring out why he suggested this bar of all places for grabbing a few beers after their shifts at TM. It was one thing to go to Lucky's on her first night with the intention of getting under Darby's skin; it was a whole other ballgame to keep showing up, especially when he knew she'd be working tonight.

Chibs had suggested they just go to the clubhouse but Jax had managed to convince them that a change of scenery would be good for them after an eight hour shift at TM. Sometimes, he just needed to get off that lot for awhile. Opie was well aware of this and he'd played on that to his advantage tonight.

Speaking of which…that thought gave him the opening he needed to get the ball rolling here.

"So," he started noncommittally. "Since I roped you guys into this tonight, I'll grab the first round."

Opie just shrugged but Chibs and Juice grinned widely in appreciation so he took that as all the confirmation he needed to saunter up to the bar. Choosing not to spare a moment, he started weaving in and out around the people playing pool in front of their booth and the assorted characters flocking around the tables spread out around the bar until he was standing directly in front her.

She was bent down underneath the counter, filling a cup with some ice and he waited, a smile creeping up across his lips.

"Well," he leaned forward on his elbows as he spoke. "I think this looks a little familiar, don't you?"

Ava's head shot up and after the surprise faded away, amusement crept up in its place.

"Well, hello," she retorted and he found himself grinning at the musicality in her voice. "I was wondering if you'd show your face in here tonight."

His eyebrows shot up into his forehead and he leaned forward a little more into the counter. "You missed me, huh?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that," her lips curved up as she spoke. "Stalker."

He winced and put his hand over his heart. "That hurts me, darlin'."

"Sorry," she shrugged as she poured some whiskey into the glass in her hand. "I just call it like I see it."

"I guess I'm just gonna have to work extra hard tonight to rectify that situation then."

"You can try," she replied flippantly but her eyes were still smiling.

"Let's start with earning you a tip," he winked. "I need four Buds and four shots of Jack."

She exhaled loudly to put on a little show of being annoyed by his order but he knew better. "Yes, sir."

As she got to work on the order, his eyes remained carefully trained on her smooth movements around the bar. It didn't take long for her to load the beers and shots onto a tray and then she was stepping out from around the bar and heading towards their booth. He followed closely on her heels, enjoying the view and found himself wondering when he'd get a glimpse of that elusive tattoo—a valuable piece of information he'd unintentionally gleaned from her younger cousin but had pocketed for future reference.

"Here you go, guys," Ava said as she began setting the bottles and shot glasses down on the table.

Jax stepped around her to slide into the booth, his hand just barely skimming the small of her back as he moved behind her and he tried not to react when she jumped a little at the brief contact. Then just like that, she pressed a smile onto her lips and turned on her heel to head back towards the bar.

He hadn't realized he was watching her step back around the counter until he felt a light tapping on his shoulder.

"Jesus, try not to be so obvious, Jackie-boy," Chibs muttered to him. "I think I'm gonna have to pop your eyes back in their sockets for ya."

"Not gonna lie," Juice chimed in from across the booth. "I was lookin' too—she's fuckin' hot."

Jax knew that was supposed to let him off the hook, to make him look not quite so guilty but all that ended up achieving was him wanting to grab Juice by his prospecting cut and snarl at him to keep his eyes off her. But he had to shake himself out of it...that impulse had come out of nowhere. And if he was going to do that, he figured it wasn't any better than pissing on her leg to mark his territory—that would not go over well.

"Doesn't mean she's worth the trouble," Opie retorted quietly from his seat, his eyes carefully trained on Jax as he spoke.

Jax just shrugged it off. "Exactly…but that doesn't mean we can't enjoy just lookin' though, right?"

"Guess not," Opie replied and took a pull from his beer.

"Aw, you're jus' sayin' that 'cause your ol' lady'd cut your balls off if she caught ya lookin'…" Chibs tossed back lightly.

That comment forced a ghost of a smile on Opie's face. "Donna can be a little scary sometimes…yeah."

"A little scary?" Jax laughed, grateful that the object of his current obsession wasn't the topic of discussion anymore. "Shit…I thought she was gonna rip me a new one when I tried to take Kenny out on my bike last week."

"That's because he's three years old, you asshole," Opie grimaced. "Some godfather you are."

"Yeah, well," he retorted with a grin. "I'll get him…one of these days when Donna isn't lookin'…all I wanna do is take him up and down the street; that's it. I don't see what the big deal is."

Opie looked at him like he'd just sprouted a second head. "I'm never lettin' you near my kids again."

"Can't keep the Godfather at bay, man," Jax shrugged. "You should've known this was gonna happen sooner or later."

"You know what I'm lookin' forward to?" Opie leaned over the table and pointed a ringed finger at Jax with a wide, triumphant grin. "Someday, the girl that has the sorry fate of being knocked up by you is gonna be the exact same way as Donna…and then when I try to take your kid out on my bike, we'll see what happens. Then you'll understand what I'm up against right now. I can't fuckin' wait!"

"Gonna have to wait awhile for that one, bro," Jax shrugged as he shook his head at the thought. "I don't plan on being that stupid anytime soon."

"Yeah, we'll see about that," Chibs laughed. "Jesus Christ, who the 'ell decided to play fuckin' Def Leppard in here? I can't stand this sh-ite."

Jax nodded grimly and fought the urge to cover his ears. That god damn "Photograph" song just grated on his last nerve. "I mean, really, there are 80s songs you can play in a bar like this—like anything by Rush, for instance—and then there's this shit."

"Agreed, brother," Opie laughed. "I fuckin' hate this song."

"Can't they do something about this, though," Juice offered. "You know, like control the jukebox?"

"Smart fucker," Chibs chuckled. "Somebody get up to that bar and make them make it stop—I vote for Jackie-boy…he seems to get on with the lass anyways."

Jax didn't need to hear anymore. He was already half-way up to the bar before he heard some hollering for encouragement behind him. Ava was mid-conversation with one of the regulars but her eyes flitted to him for a brief moment when she realized he was there. She grinned and then held up a finger, signaling him to wait for just a second. When she was done, she turned back to him, giving him her full attention.

"What can I do for you, Jax?" She asked with a small smile. "Back for refills already?"

"Nah," he shook his head and leaned into the counter to get a bit closer to her, raising a finger up in the air and towards the jukebox. "You gotta make this stop, darlin'."

Her forehead crinkled in confusion. "Make what stop?"

"Def Leppard. It must be stopped."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Oh…I don't know. And risk the wrath of the guy who played it? Some of these guys look pretty tough, Jax."

"You know I'll protect ya, Ava. Just say the word and I'll knock him down," he winked.

She just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Alright, alright. You convinced me…what do I get, though?"

His eyebrows rose suggestively and he leaned in a little closer. "You can have anything you want, darlin'."

Ava let out an exasperated huff and perched a hand on her hip as she sent him a withering look. "Wow…how about a drink?"

"That I can do." He slid a $5 dollar bill over to her with a wide grin. She promptly took the bill then was rummaging around in a drawer before she curved around the counter and towards the jukebox with a remote in hand.

"I haven't used this before so just bear with me," she was saying as he stood next to her by the jukebox attached to the wall. He waited while she pushed a few buttons on the remote until that god-awful noise finally ceased. It was about fucking time, too. Now she was looking back at him expectantly, her hand gesturing towards the jukebox after she quickly slid his money into the slot.

"Nah," he shook his head. "Go ahead—show me what you got."

"Okay," she shrugged. He knew she couldn't have this dead air for too long so she made quick work pressing a couple buttons and his eyes widened when he realized what she had just selected.

"No fuckin' way," he exhaled as the opening notes of "Limelight" by Rush echoed from around the bar.

Her brow furrowed into her forehead and she bit her lip as she appraised his reaction. "What? Bad choice?"

"No…more like great choice," he laughed as he shook his head. They both turned at the loud whooping coming from the Samcro booth and he grinned when he heard Ava chuckling at his side—Juice was currently rocking out on air drums while Chibs played air guitar…Opie just looked a little annoyed by the display.

"You'll never believe this…" he leaned down a little closer to her. "I was just talkin' to the guys about Rush."

"Really?" Her head tilted to the side as she laughed with him. "Always a staple in any bar…"

"This song reminds me of workin' in the shop with my dad," he said wistfully. It had been awhile since he'd thought of his father but when he did, it was always the little moments that stood out to him as being the most significant; jamming out to Rush as his dad taught him how to work on an engine was no exception.

She smiled sadly and he knew that, somewhere along the way, she'd figured out that his dad was no longer with them.

"Well," she was saying now. "You'll be happy to know that Rush was my first concert."

"What?" The surprises just kept on coming. "Your dad take you?"

That sad smile was back now and he promptly mentally kicked himself. He knew better than to just assume shit like that. Maybe thinking about his dad was to blame for that lapse in judgment.

"No," she shrugged. "I went with my mom and her boyfriend— still can't believe they thought it was a good idea to take an eleven year old to a concert like that on a school night."

"Ava," he grinned. "It's always a good idea—besides, you wouldn't have the taste in music you do today if they hadn't…and for that, I thank them."

"You know, I never thought of it that way," she smiled, her head tilted towards him as she spoke. "That was the year before she died…shit, I haven't thought about that in ages…"

She wasn't really speaking to him at this point; in fact, she seemed to be in her own little world right now. But she didn't need to tell him what she was thinking about.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," he offered anyways, feeling like he still needed to say something.

"I guess we have that in common, huh?" She smiled sadly back at him. "When did your dad…if you don't mind me asking…"

He just shrugged. He didn't normally make it a habit of talking about his dad; but here he was and it wasn't as painful with her as the listener, even if they were standing next to a jukebox in a noisy bar.

"I was fifteen," he replied quietly. "Motorcycle accident."

"I was twelve when my mom…car accident," she smiled sadly. "I've never met my dad."

For a moment, he had an urge to put his arm around her. The way she was looking up him with her shining, sad blue eyes…it was difficult to keep his arms at his sides. But he had a feeling that wouldn't be received well and he didn't want to be her friend—he just wanted to sleep with her. And he needed to remember that.

She turned her head to get a glimpse of the bar and he realized that she had a few customers waiting for her.

"I better get back," she sighed.

"Alright," he nodded. "I still owe you that drink—we'll probably need some more drinks in a little while. I'll catch ya then, alright?"

She just chuckled as she headed back to the bar. He knew he shouldn't linger for too long but he just wanted to watch her for a little bit longer. It was difficult to look away when she was so close but he was somehow able to tear his eyes away long enough to propel him back towards the Samcro booth. He needed the space to get a handle on himself anyways and the closer he was to her, the harder it was to do that. It didn't help that the last conversation they'd just had felt extremely intimate given the circumstances…but that wasn't exactly the kind of intimacy he was going for here.

"I gotta admit I'm impressed," Opie said when Jax slid back into the booth. "The girl's got good taste."

"I'm still in shock myself," Jax laughed before taking a long pull from his beer.

"I'm still havin' a hard time reconcilin' the fact that she's related to Darby," Chibs added with a shake of his head.

Jax couldn't have agreed more.

Ava was having a hard time concentrating on what she was supposed to be doing. It was helpful that the bar wasn't really all that crowded tonight but the second Jax had walked through the door, he'd taken all her focus with him. She was trying to keep her attention on her other customers, on rotating the glasses that needed to be washed, on keeping the overall appearance of the bar in decent shape considering she only had a few more hours left until closing. But all in all, her efforts were mostly in vain.

And she'd be lying to herself if she said she still wasn't a little shaken by their conversation by the jukebox. How it had taken that serious turn was beyond her…but there was just something about the expression in Jax's eyes when he spoke about his dad. She never spoke about her mother, not even really to her Aunt Anna so what the hell had possessed her to start talking about her mom now…to Jax of all people? She didn't know him—shit, they're previous conversations were nothing more than just harmless flirtation. So why had she so suddenly divulged such private information about herself, even if it was as minimal as how her mom had died?

But as she glanced up from wiping down the counter, her eyes collided directly with Jax's intense blue gaze and she felt herself involuntary shiver all the way down to her toes. How could he do that to her with just one look? One glance and she completely lost her shit. To be fair, seeing him in the ring had solidified a newfound respect for him—not that she hadn't before—but since then, she'd looked at him a little differently. She couldn't really pinpoint what exactly was different now; maybe it was the experienced and skilled way he'd hopped around the ring or maybe it was the strength he'd exhibited with each landed punch right in Eric's jaw. All she knew was that the sight of his flexing, sweaty muscles and bare chest had been very hard to shake.

But maybe, if she was being honest with herself, something had shifted between them when she'd realized he was watching her make her getaway after the fight. She had been so close to turning back and accepting whatever fate her uncle had devised for her that night but then Jax's determined, encouraging gaze had pushed her forward until she'd reached her car. Granted, she'd lost some of her freedom that night for her 'little stunt', as her uncle had said and she now had to be driven to all of the Nords' events. She couldn't be trusted on her own, her uncle had said, and he needed to make sure she stayed until he no longer had any use for her. It was a small price to pay for dodging Eric for another night. In fact, it gave her some renewed confidence that if she could sneak away one time, she could most certainly do it again.

She was startled out of her thoughts when Jax bounded up to the counter with four empty beer bottles in hand.

"Hey," he exhaled breathlessly, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Time for some refills. Ready for that drink now?"

She chuckled, biting her bottom lip. "Sure…is a shot alright? I've only got an hour until closing time and I have a lot of shit to take care of."

"No problem, darlin'," he shrugged. "Pour yourself whatever you want and make sure you pour one for me too."

She took a second to come up with something and then got to work mixing and shaking the shot into a cup of ice. While she was very aware that he was observing her with curiosity and a very amused expression on his face, she shifted what was left of her pride and her focus onto the task at hand.

When she pushed the filled shot glass towards him, she answered his silent questioning arched eyebrow with a simple: "Kamikaze. One of my favorites."

He nodded with that cocky, lop-sided smirk that was quickly becoming her undoing and picked up the glass so he could hold it out to her in a toast.

"To Rush." He grinned.

She grinned back and then clinked her glass to his before tilting the cold liquid down her throat. It was a sort of relief—she'd been a little on edge since he'd walked into the bar and that shot was just what she needed to chill her out. She was just about to thank him when the door opened and suddenly, it felt like all the air had been sucked right out of her lungs.

"Shit," she exhaled, her wide eyes focused on Eric and his small posse of skinheads behind him. When Eric's black, shark-like eyes zeroed in on her and who was currently standing in front of her, he was stalking towards her with a territorial, murderous glint in his eyes.

Jax immediately turned his head to see what she was staring at and after a beat, his blazing eyes were focused back on her.

"Listen, Ava," he ordered quietly. "No matter what happens, you stay behind the counter, alright?"

She nodded slowly, feeling like she'd just stepped outside her body. Eric was briskly advancing on the counter, his hands fisting tightly at his sides and his eyes narrowed into tiny black slits of ice. Jax, by this point, had turned back to face Eric and was leaning against the counter on his elbows with his back towards her. Out of the corner of her eye, she realized that the Samcro booth had been alerted of Eric's presence too. The other patrons at the bar immediately sensed the change in the air and it seemed like every noise, every movement skidded to a complete stop.

"You've got thirty seconds to turn your ass around and get the fuck out of here, Miles," Jax spat venomously.

Miles just shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest. "I just wanted to check on my girl…make sure no one's givin' her a hard time at her new job."

Ava blew out an exasperated breath and lifted her eyes angrily to the tiled ceiling. "I'm not your girl, Eric."

She knew this wasn't really the time or the place to be a bitch but she couldn't help it. She might have gotten away with it too if Jax had been able to stop the rumbling of laughter in his chest. Eric's gaze slid over to Jax and she could practically see the airs on his neck stand on end.

"Look, Eric," she attempted, knowing it was a shot in the dark. "This doesn't need to be a scene…I'm working, alright? We can talk about this later."

Eric's narrowed eyes grew even smaller and he ventured a step closer to the counter which made Jax tense in front of her. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say Teller's tryin' to get in your pants, Ava. You wouldn't really be that stupid, Teller, would you?"

Jax held his ground and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just here for the drinks, man."

"Sure you are, Teller," Eric snarled back at him. "And I'm just here for the view. Now, back the fuck off. I need to talk to her and you're right in my fuckin' way."

"Just go home, Eric," Ava pleaded from behind the counter. "We'll talk some other time…"

"Some other time?" He demanded hotly and Jax stood up a little straighter. "You've been blowin' me off for weeks. No…we're doin' this now."

Despite all the eyes on them, Jax edged closer to Eric, who met him halfway until they were toe to toe.

"You need your head examined or something?" Jax spat. "You're on the wrong side of town here and if I remember correctly, the lady asked you to leave."

Eric barked out a laugh and shook his head. "Like I said before, Teller, back the fuck off."

With that Eric advanced on Jax, almost the same way he had when they'd been in the ring only three nights before, and shoved Jax roughly back into the counter. A split second later, Jax was lunging back at him, his outstretched hands pushing Eric into the one of his posse members' chest. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion—Opie and Chibs were at Jax's side in a matter of seconds, there was glass breaking, fists were flying in a mash of black leather cuts, white T-shirts, and a smattering of blood. There was yelling and screaming and she was pretty sure a table got turned over in the tidal wave that swept through the entire bar. She was completely frozen behind the bar, unable to move—even if she wanted to, what was she supposed to do? Jump in the middle of it and get a fist in the face?

She didn't know long she was ducked behind the bar but everything abruptly came to a screeching halt when a loud voice echoed above the noise: "Alright! Break it up…let's go, fellas."

The fighting seemed to be over and she inched her head up above the counter to see four police officers pulling Jax, Eric, and several others involved off of one another. They didn't waste any time in putting Jax, Eric, Opie, Chibs, and two other Nords in handcuffs and were already hauling them out to the waiting squad cars, two by two. She managed to catch a glimpse of Jax on his way out—he turned his head back to the bar as the cop led him towards the door.

His face was certainly worse for the wear—he had a nasty cut on his eyebrow that had bled down into his cheek and she wondered if that had anything to do with the glass she'd heard breaking before. But it was the expression in his eyes that was the most unsettling. She'd expected him to be smug, unapologetic even at his handiwork inside the bar. It wasn't entirely instigated by him—the first push had been thrown by Eric after all—but it might as well have been him. But none of that was there now. Instead, he was looking back at her with a solemn, almost worried expression. She couldn't make sense of it. He was the one being arrested so why did he seem so concerned when he looked back at her now?

Before she had time to ruminate on that any further, one of the police officers, who introduced himself as Deputy Hale, asked her for her statement. There wasn't really much to tell and she'd just told him exactly what had happened.

Now, she realized, all she needed to do now was clean up the mess left in their wake. And that meant she wouldn't be leaving this place for several more hours…she'd been so close too. With a sigh, she got out the broom and started sweeping.

"What the hell were you guys thinking?" Clay barked, his fingers tightly gripping the cigar in his hand. "Somebody'd better start fuckin' talkin' here…"

Jax winced as he rubbed the cut on his eyebrow. He really wasn't shocked that Hale had hauled all their asses to the precinct—he was always looking for a reason to flex his weak muscles and remind them that he was still in town. But in reality, there wasn't much he could hold any of them on—just a scuffle that had gotten a little out of hand, some broken glass, and an overturned table. After Hale had begrudgingly turned them loose, Clay had called an emergency meeting at the Redwood to sort all this shit out and while Jax understood the necessity, all he wanted to do was crash facedown in his dorm.

"I already told you, Clay," Jax offered, figuring he needed to be the one to speak for the others anyways. "Miles got in my face and shoved me. All I did was push him back and then it was all over with from there."

"Well," Clay bit down on his cigar. "All I have to say is you boys are lucky as shit that girl told Hale that Miles instigated the fight. Darby would be all over our asses now if she hadn't—if she wasn't his niece, I'd say we owe her one—the blame is publicly, at least, off of our shoulders for this one. But I think it goes without sayin' that we need to make ourselves scarce at Lucky's from here on out. The absolute last thing we need is Darby using any of this shit as ammunition against us."

It wasn't so much the fact that Clay had basically put an embargo on any appearances at the bar now that had him on edge. When he was finally sitting in his dorm, puffing away on a much-needed cigarette, he figured he had it pretty well nailed down.

What worried him was the fact that Ava had fingered the Nords as the culprits in this little incident. And while this was great news for Samcro, that wasn't so great for Ava. He knew Darby would not be happy that she had done nothing to spare Miles and his band of lowlifes a night in jail—even if it was because she'd just told the truth. Still, she had, for all intents and purposes, sided with Samcro and he had no idea what that meant for her well-being.

He should've just blown Miles off, went back to the booth, and let him and Ava take care of their business. There was no good reason why he'd needed to stay there, like some fuckin' guard dog, and then twisted the knife when Ava called him on his shit. He should've just walked away. Besides, if she'd been smart enough to get herself away from the fight on Saturday night, she probably would've been able to handle Miles just fine.

But no…he had to get involved, which was completely unnecessary in the grand scheme of things. And now, he worried that if something happened to Ava as a result of this stupid fucking bar fight, it would be largely his fault.

The following night, he still hadn't been able to shake that feeling. He'd done nothing but sit at the clubhouse's bar and feel like a complete piece of shit. When he'd finally retreated to the solace of his dorm room, he hadn't moved from this spot on his bed—just chain smoking and wondering who in the hell Ava could go to if she got in trouble. Really…who was there? Her aunt, probably the only ally she would've had, was dead. There was no one else.

Something about this just didn't feel right. His instincts had never failed him before and he had no reason to start doubting them now.

And he knew he couldn't just sit back and do nothing, especially when, if Darby or Miles decided to take this out on her, it would basically be because he couldn't mind his own business and leave well enough alone. So despite his better judgment, he'd grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled his common sense away.

Common sense should be telling him to throw the paper in the trash, go to bed, and forget about it. He had no idea what would happen if she actually used the information he was about to give her. But no matter how hard he tried to tell himself differently, he knew there really was no one else—and that didn't sit well with him. A quick glance at the clock told him that if he hurried, he could probably catch her right after Lucky's closed. Even that was a risk—for all he knew, Darby had one of his men there to 'make sure she got home okay' or some other half-assed excuse for nailing her down. It was a risk but she'd taken one too by telling Hale the truth and probably had no idea what she'd just set herself up for.

And it was that thought that had him shoving the piece of paper into his back pocket and pushing himself off the bed.

Ava hadn't really expected Jax to show up at the bar—not after what had happened the night before. In some ways, she was glad he hadn't. Ray had already given her the well-anticipated speech, in fact, his exact words were: "Look, Ava, you're the best bartender I've ever had here and I really don't want to have to fire you if something like that ever happens again."

She couldn't blame him. Honestly, she was surprised he hadn't fired her right on the spot. She'd inadvertently brought all that Nord-Samcro shit right up to his doorstep just by working there and she was willing to bet that if Ray had known about the heated confrontation that had taken place before the fight broke out, he probably would've fired her right then. For that reason alone, it was really for the best that zero members of Samcro had shown up at the bar. She didn't need any more of that shit right now and she knew Ray would be true to his word if anything else happened. She was making good, easy money at Lucky's and didn't really want to have to deal with finding another job if this one went to hell.

But then again, she still couldn't stop herself from jumping every time the door opened, hoping that a certain Samcro cut would be walking through. It was kind of pathetic…but her heart thudded in her chest just thinking about his cocky, lazy smile, not to mention the way he'd spoken to her the night before, his soft, questioning eyes…she would go crazy if she thought about it anymore.

When it was finally time to close down, she found herself wishing there was some way she could fast forward the next few days. Her uncle had shackled her into attending a 'get together', as he called it, hosted at his house for all his Nord brethren. There really was no way she was going to get herself out of this one—he'd claimed that she owed it to him now after selling them out to Hale, which to be fair, wasn't intentional. But he didn't care that all she'd done was tell the truth and that she didn't feel comfortable lying to a cop. None of that had mattered at all. She owed him now. He'd even taken it as far as telling her what to wear, what time his driver would be at her house to pick her up, and what time she would be driven home. It was all laid out of her in black and white.

In any consolation, she'd be able to crash soon and that was good enough for now. She was so tired—she felt completely dead on her feet. The last few days had completely sucked the life out of her and she just wanted to sleep, which, naturally, made her work that much faster on getting the bar closed down for the night.

She had just locked the door behind her and turning on her heel, was digging through her purse for the cigarette pack she'd stupidly allowed herself to buy, when she glanced up and abruptly let out a soft yelp in surprise.

A motorcycle was parked next to her car and Jax was leaning up against it as he took a long drag from the cigarette at his lips. He waved a little when he saw her in the darkness and then flicked the spent bud into the cement at his feet. Gathering her bearings and feeling a little better once she brought a cigarette to her lips, she pushed herself forward until she was standing several feet away from him.

"Didn't mean to scare ya, Ava," he smiled softly.

She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling a little exposed in the moonlight. "It's alright…Jax, what are you doing here? You probably shouldn't be here right now…"

"I know," he nodded, looking down at his feet for a moment. He ran a hand through his wind-tousled hair and blew out a deep breath, then he was digging through his back pocket. When he pulled out a folded piece of paper, her forehead crinkled as he quickly passed it over to her.

"What's this?" She asked slowly, the frown still etched in her forehead.

"It's…uh…my phone number," he exhaled shakily, then ran a hand through his hair again. His hands seemed to twitch at his sides and a moment later, he was lighting up another cigarette.

"Your phone number?" None of this was making any sense to her. "Why…?"

A brief look of panic flashed across his face and he immediately held out a hand in defense. "Look, I just want you to have it in case you ever need something…if you ever get in any trouble and you need to call someone."

It was that moment she chose to unfold the crinkled paper he'd given her and sure enough, there were the digits scratched into the paper. It wasn't like she'd expected anything else…she'd just needed to see it for herself in order to believe it.

"You sure this doesn't have anything to do with the last time we were outside this bar talking like this?" She offered lightly, even though she already knew the answer to that question. This had all just gotten a little…heavy.

He laughed and ran yet another agitated hand through his hair. "Well, I mean, you know you can always call me for that too, darlin'."

She exhaled deeply and bit her lip to curb the smile creeping across her lips. It was a little easier to have this conversation now that mood had changed.

"But seriously, Ava," he continued quietly. "If you ever need some help, you can call me."

"Look, Jax…I don't want to cause any trouble for you…I'm sure you're already in the shit enough with what happened last night and the last thing either of us need right now is more trouble."

He just sighed and took a long drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips. "I know…but the thing is, I don't trust Darby or Miles or any of those fuckin' shitheads as far as I can throw them and I know you don't either. You're in the middle of all this shit whether you like it or not and to be honest with you, I'm not sure you really understand just what your uncle might be capable of."

Her mind flashed to that dark, cold room she'd been pushed into when she was fourteen.

"I think I understand just fine, Jax." The ice in her voice wasn't intended to be directed at him but there wasn't much she could do about that.

"Alright," he seemed to bristle a little at the tenseness in her voice and he shifted from one foot to the other, his eyes trained carefully on his feet. "Look—I didn't come here to argue with you. And I know we don't really know each other… I just want to make sure you're gonna be alright."

"I'll be fine, Jax," she weakly attempted to reassure him. "I can take care of myself."

"Maybe," he nodded slowly, a mix of sadness and worry clouding his eyes. "But if you need help, I just want you to know that you can call me, alright?"

"Okay."

"I honestly hope you never have to," he tugged another hand through his hair as he spoke. "At least not because you're in trouble…"

She smiled softly and chuckled at his words, in spite of the fatalistic undertones.

"So," she forced a smile on her lips. "Let me make sure I got this straight—I'm supposed to call you if I need some help or if I want some sex, right?"

His lips twisted into that sexy lop-sided grin and it was suddenly very difficult to be standing so close yet so far away from him.

"That sounds about right, darlin'," he laughed. "I'm glad you got it figured out…I should get goin'. I'm sure you want to get home anyways…I won't be seein' you at the bar for awhile but I'm assuming you'll be at the fight again on Saturday, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Uncle Ernie's orders."

He smiled sadly as he swung his leg over his bike and strapped his helmet on. "That's what I figured. Be careful, alright?"

"You too, Jax," she waved. "And thanks…you didn't have to do this tonight."

He rested a hand on the right arm of his bike and she could see his chest heave heavily underneath his cut. "Don't worry about it, Ava. See ya on Saturday."

She waved again as he pulled away from the lot, still clutching the piece of paper in her hand. After shoving it roughly into her purse and digging for her keys, she drove back to her house in a daze. There was no easy way to explain what had just happened. From the sober expression on Jax's face to the way his hand had slightly trembled when he handed her the paper that had his phone number on it to his insistence that she was in more danger than she realized—all of it was deeply unsettling.

By the time she was sitting comfortably in her bed, she still hadn't been able to shake the uneasy feeling in her stomach. Jax was clearly worried about her and maybe she had underestimated exactly what her uncle had planned for her. As she remembered what potentially awaited her at the 'get-together' the following evening, a sick feeling unfurled in her stomach as the possibilities washed over her mind. If she truly did find herself in a dire circumstance, who did she really have to turn to for help? She couldn't call Allie and bring her into it…that was the exact opposite of what she was trying to do here. So who else was there? Isabella would drop everything and come to her if she needed her but Isabella was also over an hour away—and by then, whatever was going to happen to her would've already happened.

Before she could stop herself, she was rummaging through her purse until her fingers found what they were looking for. She carefully unfolded the paper again and stared at the numbers printed on it. He wouldn't have given her this if he honestly didn't believe she might need it and it was with some risk that he'd done it. Whatever his intentions were and despite the fact that their families were potentially on the brink of all-out war, no one had forced him to do that tonight. And it hadn't been motivated by sex, at least not entirely. There had been genuine concern for her well-being radiating in his eyes and that scared her.

A moment later, her fingers were flying over the keys and his number was entered into her phone for safe keeping.

A/N-Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and/or alerted/favorited this story! Your feedback is really encouraging to read and it definitely keeps me going. Look for the next chapter soon!

As always, please let me know what you thought of this chapter!