The Killer Bartender | sons of anarchy

five

Clay sat at the head of the table in the clubhouse, his eyes scanning over the faces of the Sons of Anarchy gathered for the meeting. The atmosphere was tense, fueled by the unsettling news they had just received. Jucies, Jax, Opie, Tig, Chibs, Happy, and Bobby were all present, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

"Alright, listen up," Clay began, his voice commanding attention. "We got a situation."

The room fell silent as everyone leaned in, eager to hear what Clay had to say.

"We've received reliable intel that Marisol has been spotted with the Mayans a few times over the years," Clay revealed, his words laced with a hint of suspicion. "We're thinking she might be a spy."

A wave of murmurs and exchanged glances swept through the room. The Sons of Anarchy had always been wary of outsiders, especially those with potential ties to rival gangs. The possibility of a spy within their midst struck at the heart of their trust and brotherhood.

Jucies, ever resourceful, spoke up. "My friend found a dead end when doing his search. Even growing up she was secretive not because she wanted to more like she was told to."

Clay shook his head, his expression grave. "Any records on her brother and father are hidden. We can't even find out if they're alive or dead."

Tig's mischievous grin crept across his face as he glanced at Happy. "Maybe Happy can get some information out of her," he suggested, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Happy arched an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "What do you mean?"

Clay explained the unsettling details. "Marisol's husband was killed in a drive-by almost a month before we were locked up in Stockton. We think it might be related to her ties with the Mayans. And the fact that she's rich, well, we can't figure out why she would want to work here."

Happy's gaze narrowed, a sense of determination flickering in his eyes. "I was ordered to do the same thing," he admitted. "But I was paid by the Galindo cartel. I think they could be the same person."

Clay nodded, his expression serious. "That's what we're thinking too. Happy, you need to get more information out of her. We can't take any chances."

The weight of the task settled heavily on Happy's broad shoulders, but he nodded in agreement. "I'll do my best," he assured them.

With the meeting adjourned, the Sons of Anarchy dispersed, each member consumed by their own thoughts and concerns about Marisol and the potential threat she could pose to the club. The clubhouse, once a sanctuary of camaraderie and brotherhood, now hummed with a palpable tension as they grappled with the unsettling reality that they may have unwittingly welcomed a spy into their fold.

In the days that followed, Happy closely observed Marisol's every move, his suspicions intertwined with a growing curiosity about the enigmatic woman. He shadowed her discreetly, his keen eyes searching for any clues that could unravel the truth. He noticed the way she interacted with the Mayans, her conversations and gestures betraying a level of familiarity that troubled him.

However, amidst his covert surveillance, a conflicting emotion began to take hold within Happy. He couldn't deny the undeniable chemistry that sparked between them during their encounters. The rugged outlaw found himself drawn to Marisol's fire, her resilience and passion igniting a longing within him that he had long suppressed.

As Happy made his way towards me, I felt a mix of anticipation and apprehension. His gaze held an intensity that sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder what he had discovered during his discreet observations.

"Marisol," he called out, his voice husky and commanding. "Can we talk?"

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. We moved to a quieter corner of the clubhouse, away from prying eyes and listening ears. The air crackled with tension as we stood face to face, our gazes locked in an unspoken battle of wills.

Happy broke the silence, his voice laced with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "I've noticed some things, Marisol. Things that don't quite add up. You've been seen with the Mayans, and there are questions about your past. Care to explain?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself against the rising tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. I knew that my secrets were catching up to me, that my carefully constructed facade was beginning to crumble under the weight of the truth.

"Happy, there's a lot you don't know about me," I admitted, my voice tinged with a mix of vulnerability and regret. "I come from a complicated background, tied to the world of crime and power. But I assure you, my intentions with the club are genuine."

He studied me intently, his gaze piercing through the layers of my defenses. "I want to believe you, Marisol. But the pieces don't fit together. Your connection to the Mayans, the drive-by incident, your wealth... it's all too coincidental."

A heavy silence hung between us as I struggled to find the right words, to bare my soul and convince him of my authenticity. "Happy, I've had my share of loss and pain," I confessed but wasn't truthful , my voice barely above a whisper. "My husband, the drive-by... it was a tragic event that shattered my world. And as for my connections, they're remnants of a past that I'm desperately trying to leave behind."

Happy's expression softened, his gaze searching mine for sincerity. "Why here, Marisol?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity. "Why join a club like this if you come from a life of privilege?"

A bittersweet smile tugged at my lips as I met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Because, Happy, this is where I find freedom. I've discovered a sense of belonging that money could never buy. I want to live a life unshackled by my past, and this is where I've chosen to start."

His gaze softened, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. "I want to believe you, Marisol," he admitted, his voice filled with a mixture of caution and hope. "But I can't deny the doubts that linger. There are still unanswered questions."

I reached out and gently touched his arm, my touch a silent plea for his trust. "Happy, I understand your concerns. But I promise you, I'm not a threat to the club or your brothers. I'm here to prove myself, to find redemption for the mistakes of my past."

He studied me for a moment, his guarded expression slowly melting away. "Alright, Marisol," he said finally, his voice filled with a mix of caution and newfound warmth. "I'll give you a chance. But remember, if I find out you're lying or if you pose any danger to this club, there will be consequences."

I nodded, gratitude washing over me. "Thank you, Happy," I whispered, my voice laden with sincerity. "I won't" I lied.