Wrong Side Of Heaven //Tig Trager// ON HOLD

Chapter Ten: I Will Not Bow

"I would say get a room, but that doesn't really work in this situation."

My eyes flutter up and I squint in the soft light coming through my window, I turn my head to see Juice and the Prospect standing in my doorway. I feel the rise and fall of Tig's chest under my cheek and stick my tongue out at the guys, earning a few laughs.

"What do you want?"

"We got church," Juice says, "Again."

"Do we ever get a break?" I sigh, getting up from my bed.

"Apparently not," Half Sack grins.

"You don't know what you're talkin' about," Juice whacks him over the head.

"Get out, I need to get dressed," I say, motioning to my pajamas.

"So Tig can stay?" Half Sack grins.

"Tig is still asleep," I glare playfully, "Don't make me beat you up, kid."

Half Sack puts his hands in the air, events of the other night still fresh in his head. He and Juice leave and I go into the bathroom, brushing my teeth and running a brush through my messy hair. I strip out of my clothes, leaving in nothing but a bra and underwear. I walk into my room and start to rummage through my dresser, trying to find something to wear. I finally decide on distressed black jeans, a black long sleeve shirt, and my regular combat boots. Just as I go to pull on my jeans I hear Tig stirring behind me. I turn and see him watching me with a content smile on his face.

"Enjoying the view?" I ask, pulling on my jeans.

"Well those jeans just ruined it, but yes, I was," he answers, getting up.

His hands touch my bare sides and I shiver at the contact, enjoying the small electric pulses that glide over my skin.

"We have church," I say, placing my hand on his cheek gently.

"I know," he grins.

"You were awake?"

"Of course," he smirks, "And I'd love to see you kick the Prospect's ass."

"Come on," I say, shrugging on my shirt and cut.

We walk into the church and I take my seat next to Jax, who is watching Tig and I with an amused smirk.

"We've taken every precaution to stay under ATF's radar," Clay immediately snaps, "No busts, no investigations for five years."

"Hale flagged Bluebird as our gun warehouse," Jax runs a hand through his hair, "He's pissed that Unser is staying, I think it's got be about us."

"Sounds about right," I add.

"We've got a garage full of 25 to life," Tig says.

"Any legit place we store the guns, leads straight back to us," Clay groans, leaning back in his chair.

"Can't Rosen get us some short term storage?" Bobby asks.

"He's busy killing Bluebird man, it's gonna take a few weeks," Clay responds.

"Hey, we got that call from Jury last week," Jax suggests, "Mayans are pressing the Devil's Tribe to pay a vig, to keep the book and pussy running in Nevada. Maybe I go to Indian Hills, offer Jury some advice and in return he gives us a place to stash the guns until this blows over."

"No, no brother," Juice speaks up, "Northern Nevada is Mayan territory, they're still looking to settle the score from our little raid."

"Mayans know that the Tribe's a brother club," I add, "They knew Jury would call, they're gonna be watching."