Tig woke up the next morning, it was basically noon already, and the first thing he saw was Roxanne in just her lingerie, leaning lasciviously against the frame of the bathroom door.
"I actually could get used to that sight first thing in the morning!"
"Yeah, I bet you could, that was the whole point," Roxanne smiled and began to get dressed. And this Tig didn't like so much.
"What are you doing now?" he protested. "Come back to bed!"
"No time, check the clock," she replied, finishing buttoning her blouse. "Got some work to do, see you in a minute." She blew him a kiss and left the apartment.
"What the hell do we gotta do?" Tig muttered to himself, dumbfounded, then got up as well to disappear into the shower first. Hopefully Roxy hadn't used up all the hot water.

The clubhouse guest room slowly changed back to normal.
The last 'alcohol bodies' woke up and not only the prospects were busy with cleaning and tidying up.
Clay was outside scrubbing the barbecue, he hardly let anyone else touch this sacred thing anyway, one of the few privileged ones was Jax, Gemma and Tara were clearing the tables and Roxanne was behind the counter drying glasses.
Tig came in and looked around quickly, then, shaking his head, came up beside her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her close.
"Hey." He kissed her tenderly on the neck. "You don't have to do this!"
"Oh yes I do! If you party and stay over, you can help clean up the next day, you know." She lifted a damp wipe and looked at him promptly.
"Okay," Tig conceded, rolling his eyes, and began wiping down the stained counter. "Already I'm under your thumb," he added quietly.
"What did you say?" Roxanne asked, and he waved it off.
"Nothing. Next time we'll be sleeping at home."

Sometime in the early morning, Bobby had fallen asleep on the pool table, completely wasted, with two hookers in his arms and still hadn't moved. Meanwhile, after all, the two girls had disappeared without a sound.
"Maybe you should wake him up," Roxanne suggested, tilting her head toward Bobby as Tig carelessly dropped the wipe into the sink. "They'll have to clean around him already."
Tig eyed his snoring club brother for a second and grabbed an empty bowl that must have had peanuts in it, filled it with water, and walked over to the pool table.
"Sorry, bro!" Without much hesitation, he poured the water in his face and Bobby went up cursing and snorting.
"You fucking asshole!"
Grinning, Tig just punched him comradely on the shoulder and Bobby rolled off the pool table, groaning and looking like he was moving in slow motion.
"Holy shit ..." he grunted, before wobbling off in the direction of the restrooms.

In retrospect, that night was the most significant for Roxanne to enter this world.

Clay had prematurely extended her contract indefinitely and this would have been the ideal opportunity to get out, if she had wanted to.
She had accepted the conditions, but basically there was only one: 'If you are loyal to the club, you are family. If you become a traitor, you are marked for execution'. Nicely and freely phrasing. However, getting into this milieu was, on the other hand, the best thing that could have happened to her.

During the following weeks, her relationship with Tig improved as well. They also became closer on a personal level and then one day all of a sudden, at least from her point of view, she seemed to be his lady. It had happened more or less without her knowing it, someone from outside had called her that, Tig didn't deny it at all and when Roxanne found out about it, the ship had already sailed. She had noticed by then that they treated her differently and looked at her another way, especially by the girls, but she hadn't known the reason, and no one had mentioned it directly to her.
"It would've been nice if you'd told me," Roxanne said with a smile when the subject came up between them. "If I'm going to be faced with fulfilled facts and not asked about it ..."
"Sorry," Tig apologized. "But I was caught a little off guard by it, too. Then I thought, why deny it? It's basically true. Do you mind?"
"No, but what does that mean exactly? Being your lady?"
"It's official and you kinda have a special status. Regarding protection and all," he explained it deliberately simple, after all she had said herself that she wanted to know as little as possible about the entire club politics and business.
"So I can get away with a little more?" she prompted, grinning.
"Depends," he smiled. "You could put it that way, though."

About a week later, after a club meeting, Juice approached him.
"Do you have a minute?"
"Yeah. What's it about?" Tig eyed him. Juice obviously had something on his mind, but probably didn't know how to bring it out. "It's not written across your forehead, you'll have to tell me!"
"I, well ... um, Roxy asked me for a favor," he began awkwardly. "She asked me to go get her. Well, I mean, something. To go get something for her!"
Tig's expression, which had darkened noticeably after the second sentence, relaxed again.
"Could you be a little more specific?"
Juice sighed. "She asked if I could get her a gun. I haven't yet though, I wanted to talk to you first to make sure you even knew about it."
"I had no idea. How the heck did she come up with that?!" Tig wondered and the young Puerto Rican shrugged.
"She said as self-protection."
"Doesn't really answer my question. Okay." Tig punched him comradely on the shoulder. "Thanks for telling me. I'll check with her."
By this time she should still be in the garage and he walked purposefully over.
He wanted to know right now. Did she think she had to protect herself from him?
But if so, she probably would have taken care of it a long time ago immediately after this incident in the barn or wouldn't have stayed at all and wouldn't have gotten involved with him again. Or would she?

She was already in the process of clearing up tools and cleaning up when she saw him enter.
"Hey, I still nee a few min... what are you doing?!" she interrupted herself as he unceremoniously grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a quiet corner. "You're hurting me!"
Tig instantly let go of her. "Why are you asking Juice to get you a gun? Anyway, why don't you ask me? Unless I'm the reason?"
"Question one, I'd feel safer. Question two, I don't want you to worry about me for nothing. Question three, no, you're not."
"Assuming I was okay with it, which would you prefer? Turret or pistol?" He eyed her appraisingly. "Can you even handle one of those?"
"Pfff," Roxanne made. "Put in the cartridges or magazine, aim and pull the trigger. How difficult can that be?!"
Tig laughed. "So clueless ... But okay. I guess a pistol might suit you better. I'll take care of it and we'll have our first shooting practice soon."
"You're really okay with this?" Roxanne had expected a lot more reluctance from him. "Will you teach me?"
"I will. If you think you absolutely need a gun, you better know how to use it properly."

By the following afternoon, he had already organized several Berettas to choose from, and after picking Roxanne up after work and taking her in the van to the club's practice area in the middle of the Indian reservation, he asked her to choose one.
"Are these loaded?" Where he had gotten them so quickly, she didn't even ask in the first place.
"Of course not!" he assured her. " Take each one in your hand and the one you're most comfortable with will be tested out."
"Most comfortable?" Roxanne echoed, amused, and pointed to one of the smallest. "Spontaneously, I'd say that one. It's kinda cute."
Tig shook his head with a smile. "Typical female. Looks are really secondary to that."
"Yeah, right." Roxanne grabbed the closest one and handled it more or less awkwardly. Tig noticed immediately she'd never held a gun or anything like it before.
"It's really this one," Roxanne finally said, holding up the cute one, a Beretta 9000.
Tig selected a matching magazine of bullets from a cardboard box.
"Watch and learn," he joked, sliding it in, locking the safety catch, and immediately unlocking it by pulling it back a tiny bit and letting it slide forward again.
Roxanne watched the scene with fascination.
"I'll explain it all in detail later," Tig said. "Also caring for it and cleaning it and all that. For now, the important thing is to know how to shoot."

He set up five empty beer bottles on an already rather perforated horizontal tree trunk and instructed Roxanne, at what she thought was way too far a distance, by showing her how to hold the gun, how to position herself, move and aim.
"...Finger very lightly on the trigger until you feel resistance. Then aim and pull it. Be careful of the kickback." He demonstrated, firing two bottles in a row. "Your turn."
He handed her the gun and Roxanne tried to implement everything exactly as he had explained it to her.
Despite pulling the trigger herself, she flinched and the shot, of course, missed by yards.
Like a little girl, it almost came out of Tig's mouth, but he managed to stay serious. No way she'd still think he was trying to make fun of her.
"Try again."
It wasn't better on the next shot or the one after that.
"Darn it!" Roxanne swore, and Tig stepped up to her, correcting her standing and explaining what else she was doing wrong.
"Again."

She emptied the magazine and every one of the bullets missed.
"Maybe it would be easier if you didn't stick too close to me," she commented as he reloaded her Beretta.
"Oh, yeah?" He handed it to her and took a few steps back. "Well, here you go!"
This time she managed to hit two bottles and the missed shots were at least already closer.
"Let's call it a day."
He shook his head. "Not 'til you shoot them all down."
"Tig, it'll be dark soon, let's continue tomorrow!"
"We will, anyway. And it's not dark yet. So go on!"

On the way back, Roxanne still held the now unloaded and secured Beretta in her hand; after all, she was supposed to be familiar with it.
"It was pretty good after all," Tig remarked. "Except for one bottle that was still standing. Given that you've never fired a gun before ..."
"But that's quite a waste of ammunition, ain't it?" she objected, and he just waved it off. "Don't worry about that."

Back home, he showed her how to clean and store the gun.
"Same time tomorrow," he said as they said goodbye to each other and Roxanne smiled.
"Looking forward to it!"

Whether it was because of Tig or not wasn't insignificant but during the second session she somehow started to enjoy it and after a few days she finally managed to shoot down all five bottles in a row.
"YES!" She whooped and jumped up and down with joy a few times before securing the gun and wrapping her arms around Tig's neck.
"Very good!" he smiled. "Next time on targets, that would be the next level of difficulty."
"And after that?"
"The moving target."

She kept practising, got better and better, and soon she was handling the gun, magazine and ammunition as if she'd never done anything else.
"I really do feel more comfortable now," she said one evening, after another shooting practice session, as she slipped the gun, cleaned, into the oil rag and put it back in the box.
"And I still don't know why you need it," Tig commented. "But it might come in handy."
Of course, Roxanne hoped she would never have to use it in an emergency, but should it occur ... She'd be prepared.