Thank you, as always, for the thoughtful reviews. :) I appreciate the various points of view.

See the end notes for some references, if you're into it.

that night you whisper like a ghost and you look so shaken
you're so quiet and small and you tell me you want to be taken
i just never think of you as the kind of girl who would say that
you suddenly seem like some faceless thing in my grasp
The Airborne Toxic Event, "All I Ever Wanted"

She swam slowly to consciousness with the feel of Juice's mouth on the back of her neck. When she stirred he ran a hand down her arm to rest on her hip. She wiggled back against him and smiled. She hadn't had nearly enough sleep, but she felt strangely rested, and she was glad he hadn't left her to sleep and joined the others outside.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still thick and sleepy.

"Hey, babe."

"What time is it?"

"Nine-ish," he said and continued to press kisses along the curve of her shoulder.

She could hear movement and voices out in the main room. She wasn't exactly looking forward to going out there. She was the only woman here; Gemma was at the warehouse, Tara was in the hospital, and they were somehow the only three old ladies with the club at the moment. The guys hadn't wanted to send Olivia to the warehouse because she was the one Doyle was after; they didn't want to endanger everyone there, and they wanted her under the heaviest guard.

She let her face fall back to the pillow and enjoyed the feel of Juice's hand as he stroked her sleep-warmed skin. "How's your finger?" she said.

"Hurts, but not too bad."

"Thank you for taking the van with me. I know it might've cost you some man points."

He laughed a little, a warm stir of breath against her skin. "Come on, Liv. I think everyone realized we might wanna be together, all things considered—and no one wanted to drive the van alone."

His palm skimmed up the front of her body to cup one of her breasts. He trailed his tongue around the curve of her ear.

"Baby, what are you doing? There is a room full of bikers on the other side of that door."

"There was a room full of bikers on the other side of the door last night," he reminded her.

"They were asleep last night."

"Then I guess we're just gonna have to be really, really quiet," he said as he leaned over her capture her mouth carefully with his. She braced her hand against his scalp and grinned at the feel of his morning erection on her ass.

"You need a haircut, babe," she said as she rubbed his fuzzy head.

"I know. It's been a bit, but I left the clippers at home. Your place, I mean."

She nodded. At some point—she wasn't entirely sure when—they'd both started to refer to her house as "home," as though he didn't have a house of his own, and much more conveniently located in respect to both TM and the ice cream shop.

He tugged her nipple. Rolled it between his knuckles. She made a low noise of pleasure, and her lips curved in a smile. "Really?" she said.

"Mmhhmm," he said with an impish grin.

She rolled over onto her back, laughing quietly, and pulled him on top of her. "You are a thirty-four-year-old man, not a horny teenager!"

Still grinning, he kissed a line down her chest, between her breasts. "I'm a horny thirty-four-year-old man. It's really the same thing." He tugged her panties down and she kicked them away, then helped him get rid of his boxers. He dipped a finger between her lips to find her warm and wet.

"Looks like I'm not the only one," he murmured.

She lifted her brows in a sort of shrug. "I wake up with a hard cock pressed against me I'm gonna have a reaction. That's just the type of girl I am."

"Don't I know it," he said and slid into her. They both hissed; they were sore, a little, and she was tight and not quite as wet as they were both used to. "Sorry," he muttered. "I should've—"

"It's okay." She slid her legs up to twine around him. "Don't stop."

"You sure?" he said through gritted teeth.

"Uh huh." She rolled her hips and he thrust deep. The slight pain felt—oddly good. Really good, actually.

He must have thought so, too, because he moved in hard, intense jerks that made her head fall back and her body arch against him.

"Fuck," she whispered. "Baby, that's—wow, that's—"

"Good?" he supplied as he nipped at her throat.

"Fucking amazing."

He laughed, breathlessly, and shifted his weight to his elbows. He wrapped his hands around her shoulders from underneath and pulled her against him with every driving thrust. His fierce desire from the night before hadn't waned, and he had promised to fuck her until she couldn't walk—but he could tell he was hurting her, and he eased up a bit.

She shook her head, a drunken loll back and forth. "Don't, babe, please. More!" she breathed into his ear.

"Hurting you," he said, complete sentences utterly beyond him.

"Don't care. Fuck me, Juicy, like you said last night. Please, baby."

He let out a low growl and gave her what she begged for. She was slick and open now, and her whispered pleas were like arrows of lust straight to his dick.

"Is this what you want?" he rasped as he pounded into her, harder and deeper than he ever used in this position.

She writhed beneath him and her thighs gripped him tighter. "Yes, yes, fuck yes!" she whimpered.

"So good, Livvie," he said and buried his face in her neck. "Love you so much."

"I love you too," she whispered. Her muscles tensed and her cunt clenched him tight. Her breath came in hot, desperate gasps as the orgasm took her by surprise. He didn't let up, and by the time she came down from it he was right on the edge.

He kissed her, so rough that the split reopened in her lip. For a second he was horrified, but she just laughed and ran her tongue over the blood. The sight was so ridiculously, incongruously erotic that he lost the last, slippery grip on his control and let out a long groan.

She captured her mouth with his, and he could taste the coppery tang on her lips and tongue. She came again, harder than the first time, and her hips bucked to meet him as his cock spasmed inside her again and again.

She wrapped her arms around him as the shudders passed. He licked sweat from her neck and shoulder. She shivered and kissed his temple.

"Wow," he finally said.

"That was—" She wiggled and winced. "That was intense."

He pulled out and brushed a damp lock of hair off her forehead. His face was uncertain, his eyes probing. "I, um." His brow creased. "I had no idea you would—you would want…that."

She stretched, her feet trailing down his legs and her hands pressed against the headboard. "You're the one who said you wanted to fuck me into the bed," she reminded him with a teasing smile.

"Well I know, but it's one thing to say something—"

"And another to do it. I know." She shook her head and ran her fingers over one of the tattoos on his scalp. "It's definitely not what I want every day, or even, like, once a week, but after yesterday—" She shrugged a little. "It felt cathartic. You know. Cleansing."

"I guess I get that," he said, doubtfully.

"I'm definitely going to be sore today, but it's good sore. It'll make me think of you." She brushed a fingertip over her lip. "Even this, now, will make me think of you. Of how much I love you and how good you make me feel. Rather than…the alternative."

He seemed to accept that. She kissed his jaw. "Are you okay?" she said.

"Me?" He looked confused that she would ask.

"Yeah, you. You were there, too. Both yesterday and just now."

"Oh," he said. "I…" He frowned and flipped over. Sat up and ran a hand over his head. "Yeah, of course."

She draped over his shoulders and embraced him from behind. Pressed a kiss to his back, just above his shoulder blade. "You don't have to do that."

"Hmm?" he said, momentarily distracted by the feel of her breasts against his skin.

"Pay attention," she said, laughing. "You don't have to tell me what you think I want to hear. Isn't that what you said to me yesterday?"

"That's not—it's not really like that. It's more like…maybe if I say it enough it'll be true."

"Hum. Has that approach worked for you in the past?"

"Not really," he admitted, "but it's not like we have time, you know? He's out there, and he's gonna be madder than ever. Now's not the time to dwell on shit."

She made a low noise of agreement, though he could tell she wasn't happy about it. A short silence fell. She rested her cheek on his back and he rubbed his thumb along her arm. He could feel her heartbeat, and the rise and fall of her chest with each breath. He closed his eyes and the moment stretched and lengthened.

Finally she sighed and pushed away. "Shower time," she said. "I think we've put the day off as long as we can."

He let her go with a reluctant nod. "Hey, open the window," he said as she walked by. "It smells like sex in here."

She laughed and raised the sash. "Uh huh. I wonder why."

He smirked, and she was still laughing when he heard the water start.

When Olivia emerged from the bedroom she froze in the doorway. There wasn't a single face she recognized. Their patches said SanDino and Indian Hills, and they all stared at her in abject curiosity. She managed a weak smile and a lame sort of wave, and then she heard the most beautiful sound in the universe.

"Ollie lass," Chibs called from the kitchen area, "there you are."

She wove her way through the big bodies who parted to let her pass, and when she finally made it to the kitchen she let out a small sigh of relief. "Hi," she said.

Chibs lifted a brow. "Steady on, darlin'. We're all friends here."

"Right," she said, but her face was pale and her smile was still shaky.

"We got coffee," Bobby said.

"Oh, no—"

"Or tea," Chucky said. He held up the box and she grinned at him, a real grin that showed the dimple in her chin.

"Chucky!" she cried. She threw her arms around him, and he stood for a moment, startled and unsure, before he returned the embrace. "Oh my God, we thought you were dead," she said as she pulled away. "Are you okay? Stupid question. Of course you're not okay. I'm so sorry, Chucky. I had no idea—"

"Whoa, Ollie, Jesus," Bobby said. "Slow it down. The man just got out of the hospital."

"It's okay, Ollie," he said and patted her on the back with his awkward hands. "Not sure anyone could've seen that coming. It was pretty wild. Totally different experience from having your fingers cut off."

She pressed a hand to her mouth. Chucky's weirdness never failed to amaze. "It was, in fact, pretty fuckin' wild," she said. She shook her head. "What are you doing here? I thought you were at the warehouse."

"We had a few questions about Doyle and his men, some details you and Tig might not've remembered," Chibs said. "Plus for all we know Doyle might want to finish the job. Like you, he's safer here."

"Probably good thinking." She squeezed his good arm. "I'm just glad you're not dead."

"That makes two of us," he said. He shook the box of teabags at her. "Tea."

"Right. Tea. Thank you."

He turned away to make it and she ran a hand through her damp hair. Tucked her thumbs in her back pockets and shifted her weight from one foot to another. "So," she said.

"We got nothin' on Doyle just yet," Bobby said. "We were hopin' you could shed some light on a few things."

"Like?"

"I don't know, lass," Chibs said. "What sort of business might he have out here? He's based in Atlanta, aye? So does he often travel west?"

"Not that I know of, but I've been gone a long time. He had West coast interests, but he didn't handle them directly."

"Hum," Bobby said. He and Chibs exchanged a look. "So any idea where he might be?"

She accepted the steaming mug Chubby offered and smiled her thanks. "Um." Her face creased in concentration. "Well, okay. I have no idea what his business over here might be, but—he's a creature of habit. Always."

"Okay…?" Bobby said.

She lifted a hand. "Where's the nearest Four Seasons?"

"San Francisco. Seems awful far to commute," Chibs said.

"Two hours, give or take," said Bobby.

"Much shorter by helicopter," Olivia offered as she took a sip of tea.

"There's a helipad near that warehouse," Chucky said. "Sorry, I—sorry. Just—"

"No, Chuck," Bobby said. "That's helpful."

"You really think he would stay there, lass?" Chibs said. "Seems an easy place to find him, you knowin' him so well."

She shrugged a shoulder. "Yesterday was too easy. I mean, yeah, six people are dead, but if he'd wanted to keep us there he could've had sixty guys. Six was nothing."

Tig joined them, smelling of pine needles and road exhaust. "Guy loves his games," he remarked.

"Yup," she said. That covered it.

Tig gave her a one-armed hug that she returned with a squeeze to his waist. "How you doin', darlin'?" he said.

"Oh, you know. Like I just got kidnapped. You?"

"Same," he said. "But it's good to see this guy!" He swooped Chucky up in a huge bear hug and spun him around. "I fuckin' love this guy!"

"Thanks, Tig. You want some coffee? We got coffee."

"Nah, buddy, I'm good." He clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Man, she didn't even tell me what happened. I thought he'd just tied you up. Took her three hours to cough up the truth."

"I told you why I lied about it, Tig," Olivia said and rolled her eyes a little. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation.

"I know, I know. Makes sense. Doesn't mean I like it."

She opened her mouth to reply, but Chibs cut her off. "What's the word back home?" he said to Tig.

"They had my bike and Ollie's car impounded."

"Again?! You realize this's the third time my car's been impounded since I moved here."

"I got it out, Ollie, don't worry. I told them we hadn't been kidnapped; we'd just gone off to Yellowstone without telling anybody."

"A secret tryst," she said. "How irresponsible of us."

"Wait," Juice said from behind them. "Who's trysting with who?"

She cast a grin over her shoulder. "Tiggy and me. To Yellowstone."

"Very romantic," Juice said.

"What can I say? He knows how to treat a lady."

"Take notes, brother," Tig said.

Juice tapped the side of his head. "Gettin' it all down right here."

"I'm surprised they believed you without seeing me too," Olivia said.

"Eh." He shrugged. "I had that lady sheriff eatin' outta my hand."

There was a short pause, and then everyone within earshot burst out laughing.

"Handed you your balls in a sack, huh?" Bobby said.

"Fuckin' A." He tilted his head. "I kinda liked it."

"This is way more information than I need," Olivia said. "So are we going to San Francisco or not?"

"What's in San Francisco?" Tig said.

"Doyle, maybe," Chibs said. "The Four Seasons." He fixed Olivia with a hard look. "What's this we business?"

"We, as in…all of you and me."

"Not happenin', Ollie," Bobby said.

She stared back and forth between them. "Are you kidding? You would all still be tied to poles in that warehouse if it weren't for me!"

"In all fairness, lass, we wouldn't've been in that warehouse at all if it weren't for you."

"All right," Juice said. "Let's not go there."

"No," Olivia said. "No, let's. I think we need to clear the air, and you can pass this on to Happy when you see him. I get that all of this is my fault. Eli. Tara. Chucky. The fucking kidnapping. Hell, Cindy! There is nothing you could say that could make me feel worse about it. I'm the one he wants, and the rest of you are just collateral damage—which is exactly why you have to take me with you."

Chibs let out a sigh. "This's club business, lass. You're an old lady."

She drew in a long breath to calm herself before she said something she would regret. "It's my business, Chibs."

"Not anymore," said Bobby. "Doyle kidnapped four members of this club. He invaded our clubhouse. He almost killed Chucky, and his men—" He broke off, cleared his throat, and started again. "His men shot and almost killed Tara."

"Because of me, as Chibs so kindly pointed out."

Juice rested a hand on her shoulder. "They're right, Liv. It's too dangerous. You need to stay here and let the club take care of it."

She spun on him. "Et tu, Brute?"

Chibs snorted. "It's not like that, Ollie."

"Sure, Chibs," she said with a brief, bemused grimace. She crossed her arms over her chest and dropped her chin. Clearly she was going to need a different approach. Getting angry would just make them close ranks. She didn't put it past them to lock her in the bedroom or something.

She raised her head and shook her hair back from her face. "Chibs, why were you the one to kill Jimmy O? Why did Opie pull the trigger on Stahl?" She studied each of them. "Why was Jax out in front when it came time to kill Clay? And Tig. Who killed Damon Pope? Because we all know it wasn't Clay."

Tig shifted uneasily and looked away. He thought about that pornographer he'd drowned in the tub of piss. "Not the same thing," he muttered.

"Hhmm." She flicked her fingers. "What happened to the guy who killed Opie? Or Gemma's rapist?"

"All right, Olivia," Chibs said, his voice hard. "You've made your point."

"Gemma didn't kill her rapist," Bobby said.

"Guys." She swallowed hard. "I understand the politics at play here. I understand who and what I am. I know my status." She lifted her hands in a sort of helpless supplication. "I'm asking you to make an exception. I am asking you to please, please understand what this means to me. This is a man who has haunted me for eight years, and who, along with his son, made my life hell for the six years before that. I don't know how to…"

She paused a moment to collect herself.

"I don't know how I can make any of it right if I'm not at least there. I was seventeen years old the first time I met him. I was eighteen the first time his son shared me with him. He's been the boogeyman in the closet ever since. I'm a thirty-one-year-old woman who practically has a panic attack every time she sees a fucking strawberry, for fuck's sake!"

Bobby raised a hand a to stop her. "Okay, Ollie. Okay. Let us talk it over. It's…you're asking a lot."

"I know I am." She hesitated. "Thank you. I appreciate the consideration." She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered a little. "I think I need some air," she said. "I'll be outside when you need me."

"Lass," Chibs said, quietly. "Car keys?"

She scowled. "I don't fucking have them. Teddy does. If that's not reason enough to put a bullet in his head, then I don't know what the fuck is!" She spun away and stomped off, shoving her way through the crowd this time and shutting the door hard behind her, just short of a slam.

"Should someone go keep an eye on her?" Tig said.

Juice shook his head. "Not a great idea right now. Don't worry; she's not going anywhere."

"Van's still out there."

"She's not going anywhere, Bobby. She said she'd wait for us to decide and she will." His brows quirked. "Now if we decide she can't go…"

"Your old lady's got one hell of a nerve, Juicy," Bobby said.

"She has a right to her revenge," Chibs said. He couldn't help but think of that night in the parking lot, just before the trip to Ireland. She said she'd sworn to be the one to kill Doyle if they met again, and she never broke her promises. It wasn't right, bringing an old lady along on something like this. It was club business.

But he understood where she was coming from. He thought they all did. He scraped a hand down his face. "I've got no idea. It's a sticky question."

Tig looked troubled. "None of you were there yesterday, in the shop. The way that son of a bitch looked at her…I wanted to rip his goddamn head off. But she didn't crack. She threw that fuckin' strawberry lotion in his face."

"He tried to rape her when he had us alone, in the interrogation room," Juice said. He huffed out a short, humorless chuckle. "She didn't fight back; she just laughed at him and he couldn't get it up. She knew exactly what to do."

"It's too personal for her," Bobby said. "If she loses her cool we're fucked."

Chibs lifted a brow. "Like Jackie lost his cool over that animal who killed Opie?"

"Burned an important bridge with the Grim Bastards."

"Aye," Chibs said, "but he had it comin'."

"So does Doyle," Tig said. "I say we let her come. I know she's an old lady and this is club shit, but it's also her shit. Like Chibs said: she's got a right to her revenge."

"This ain't a formal vote," Bobby said, "but I would like to hear what each of you have to say. Tig's opinion is noted. Chibs?"

"I don't know, Bob," he said, heavily. "The lass is surprisingly steady in a crisis. If nothin' else it might be nice to have an extra medic along."

"Seriously?"

Chibs hitched a shoulder. "It sounds like she kept her head well enough with him yesterday, from what Juicy and Tiggy have to say. Leavin' her here, denyin' her a chance to look that bastard in the face when he dies…doesn't seem right, old lady or no."

Bobby glowered. "Juice?"

"I can't. I gotta abstain on this one. I don't want her to go because she could get hurt, and because I swear to God if he lays another finger on her—" He cleared his throat. "But I don't wanna leave her here because…of what Chibs said." He raised his arms and let them fall back to his sides. "There's no good answer for me."

"Fair enough," Bobby said. He tugged on his beard and glared down at his boots. "Goddamn old ladies comin' along on club shit. What the fuck's next?"

"We'll have to start patchin' in women," Chibs said with a wry grin.

Bobby shuddered. "That'll be the day." He gave a gusty sigh. "I don't fuckin' like it…but fine. She listens to every single word we say and she doesn't fucking question it. If we tell her to go buy bagels in the middle of everything, she goes. We tell her to dance the fuckin' polka, she dances. Any pushback, any bullshit, I'll handcuff her to my fuckin' bike and leave her in the goddamn parking lot."

Juice got the sense Bobby was talking to him, so he nodded his agreement. "Yeah, okay," he said.

"Go on and tell her, then get back in here. Callin' table to work out a plan."

"We don't even know for sure he's there," Chibs said.

"Call and ask," Tig said, reasonably. "Don't see why he wouldn't be there under his real name. Mick Doyle's the big secret, not Teddy Flanary."

"Worth a try," Bobby said, "especially if Ollie's right about him not hidin'." He pulled out his phone and flipped it open. "Church in twenty," he said. "Spread the word."

They all scattered, and Juice headed for the door to find Olivia. His feelings were mixed, just like he'd told Bobby. He knew it was important to her to kill Doyle herself—though he had a feeling the guys wouldn't let her—but he also hated the idea of putting her in even more danger.

Maybe she was safer with them. Maybe she was safer here. Maybe she'd be safer at the warehouse or on the fucking moon. He didn't know anymore, and it was driving him nuts. He just wanted all of it to be over: Doyle dead and he and Liv free of all this shit.

If such a thing were even possible.

I got asked yesterday about Olivia's car. When I started writing this, I was obsessed with the TV version of From Dusk Till Dawn, and I've loved the movie forever. The Geckos drive a black 1969 Mercury Cougar. My mom mentioned that her stepfather had a green 1970 Cougar when she was growing up. Between the two, bam. Olivia's car. I decided I liked the look of the '70 a little better (though they use the same frame), but I gave her grandfather the '69. It's Mercury's muscle car, their answer to the Mustang and the Camaro, and it is, as she and Juice describe it way back in ch1, "grungy."

I was also asked about Olivia herself, like an rl person she might resemble. Of course Kozik says she looks like Dana Scully, but apart from the height and the hair, not so much. I tend to think more Mireille Enos, who plays Sarah Linden on The Killing. She was also Brad Pitt's wife in World War Z, and apparently she was on Big Love, which I never watched. Linden's style is this no makeup, baggy sweaters, hair in a ponytail, super low maintenance look, which is a bit like Olivia at the garage, but then you see Mireille at an event and she's a complete knockout. That's more Olivia on her days off. :) (obviously, before the haircut, Olivia's hair was longer; but that's sort of the color I imagine it; maybe a little redder and less orange)