Pull

Gemma was pretty quiet during the ride to the garage. I think she was relieved that I was back, more than angry. I was lost in thought when something from the conversation struck me as odd.

"Whose Abel?" I asked

"Jax's son. Born early thanks to that druggie bitch," Gemma sneered.

"Wendy? What happened? I thought she was clean," I said, shocked.

"Clean?! She's about as clean as the floor of a men's bathroom in a gas station. Abel had a tear in his stomach because the whore couldn't put the needle down for two minutes. He's also got the congenital heart disease. He got through surgery okay, but he's still in the incubator. The hospital's keeping him there until he's strong enough to live outside," she said.

"I'm going to kick that bitches ass," I seethed.

"It's fine. She's going to Promises. She will never be that boy's mother. I've made sure of that. Plus, Jax is... distracted. Tara is back in the picture. She came back from Chicago. If there's any bitches ass to be kicked, it's that one," Gemma said.

Jax had always been like a big brother to me as well. He and Opie were always following Ace around when Ace got patched in. Wanting to know what he was up to, why they couldn't be in with their dads too. Ace was 8 years older than Jax and Ope, and 10 years older than me, so of course i had two self-proclaimed older brothers, and one blood. That being said, I would kill for Jax and Opie. If some broad was messing with either of them, They would die. Opie was in prison last time I was around, and that thought struck me as well.

"How's Ope?" I asked. Truth being told, I had been in love with Opie as a kid, but when he married Donna, I forced myself to give up. I wasn't going to be that girl. I wasn't the kind to ruin marriages and seduce men. I wasn't a sweetbutt or a croweater. I was family, and if Ope was happy, then I was happy for him. He'd always have my affection, but in a brother way.

"He got out a couple months ago. He's having a hard time adjusting. Hasn't really been around the club much. Donna's being a bitch to him about the club. She thinks that's the reason he went to prison. I think he'll be glad you're back. Might brighten things up a bit for him," Gemma said, giving me a sideways, knowing look.

"Gem, that's over. He's got an old lady. I'm not it. I don't think Ace would have ever allowed me to go for one of the guys anyway," I said, shaking my head.

"If it would have been anyone, I think it would have been Ope," Gemma said, "But I respect that you won't do that to Donna, even if she is resisting the club,"

That ended the conversation. I had to prepare myself for seeing everyone again. I had gotten so used to having no blood family that I forgot what it was to be family to an MC. I forgot how fiercely Gemma protected her own, and I even forgot that she considered me one of her own. I forgot that these people cared. I knew Clay would be furious, but if he would listen for long enough to understand I went about my business in a way the club would be proud, he would ease up a little. I mean, he dealt with Tig on a daily basis. And Happy was a complete sociopath. They were still around, and trusted. Hopefully I wouldn't be in too much trouble.

________________________________________________________

As the Cadillac pulled into the parking lot, I saw that my car was already unloaded and in the garage. And there was a man approaching the trunk.

"Shit," I said, and opened the door, with the Cadillac still moving, and sprinted full speed to the garage, placing my body in between the man and the trunk, "I'd appreciate if you'd leave my belongings alone," I said, smiling my most innocent smile. "Got lady things in there, you know."

"Shiloh?" The man stopped for a moment, examining my face, then roaming down my body.

I punched him in the shoulder. Hard.

"Eyes are up here, asshole," I snapped.

"Damn, doll. You've grown up in a year," he said appreciatively, ice blue, cold, killer eyes still brazenly staring me up and down.

"Trager, I swear to god if you don't stop staring at my boobs, I'm going to rip your eyes out of your head and keep them in a little glass jar in my basement," I said.

"Aw come on, Shi, I haven't seen you in a year, that's a lot of lost ogling time to make up for," he said, perverted grin on his face.

"Right, because you don't have enough croweaters around here, buzzing around like vultures on a carcass," I said.

"Are you calling me a carcass?" he asked, pretending to be offended.

"No, not at all. But from what I hear, you do enjoy carcasses. Maybe you're the buzzard," I said, smiling devilishly at him.

"You little bitch," he snarled, but I could tell he wasn't really angry. "Out of the way, doll, I need to grab the jack out of your car," he said, trying to push me out of the way.

"You have a jack here. It's an automechanic garage," I said quickly, trying to deter him. He gave me a suspicious look.

"You're right. Look. We're trying to get all your bags and stuff out of your car so we can set you up a room in the clubhouse, now move it," Tig said, once again trying to push me out of the way.

"Hey, whoa, get your greasy, STD infested fingers away from me...I'll uh.. Carry the bag myself," I said

"I do not have STD's. I got checked last week. And what do you mean by bag? You've been gone for almost a year, doing god knows what, and you only have one bag. I find that hard to believe," he retorted.

"Well.. believe it. I'm a light packer," I said, pulling the keys out of my pocket and unlocking the trunk, shooing Tig away. He, of course did not heed my motions and stepped foreward, trying to pick up the bag.

"Jesus, doll, what the hell are you carrying. And why does your trunk smell like death and bleach?" he said, straining a bit to lift the bag.

"It's off a cheap car lot. Bought it for 300 bucks. It's probably not worth fixing," I said, trying to grab the bag from Tig.

"You might be right about it not being worth it. What the hell you got in this bag that you're so protective of?" he said, suspiciously, holding the bag out of my reach, which was almost a struggle on his part, considering he's almost a good foot taller than me. But the bag was heavy, and I was determined.

"Tig, just give me the bag, please?" I said, exasperated.

"Whats in it for me?" he smirked devilishly, bright eyes shining.

"I'll dig up a dead hooker for you to hit," I said.

"I was thinking more along the lines of you doing me a little favor," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I've been off limits since I've been here. You know that. Clay and Ace made that rule. Is it worth dying over?" I said, rolling my eyes.

"You have no idea," he said, hefting the bag over his shoulder, and heading toward the clubhouse, me in tow, and very irritated.

"Tigger, give me the bag or i'm cutting your nuts of in your sleep," I threatened through clenched teeth.

"As long as you're touching them," he said pervertedly, walking into the clubhouse.

At this point, I had enough.

"God. Damnit. Tig. Give me the bag," I snapped, patience lost. He turned, shocked look on his face.

"Okay now I'm curious," he said, sitting the bag on the pool table and unzipping it.

I lunged at the bag, but was restrained midair by a pair of strong arms.

"Calm down there, lovey. We jus' wanna see what's in the bag," it was Chibs. In my rage, I hadn't even noticed he was in the clubhouse, and under any other circumstances, I would have hugged him in greeting, but at the moment, I was more concerned with Tig discovering my secret.

"You're carrying a god damn dead mexican around in a duffel bag?"