Angela carried Juice's go-bag with his spare set of clothes and toiletry bag as requested and a small bag of groceries Gemma had asked her to bring over towards the clubhouse. She hadn't slept at all the night before. Every creak of the house sounded like an intruder. She'd lost count of the amount of times she'd gotten up, grabbed her gun, and walked through the house just to make sure she was wrong. She'd spent a good hour fixing her make up to hide the light bruise on her cheekbone left behind by Esai's slap. Her stomach churned at the idea of telling Juice about what had happened, at telling Happy what happened. Her cousin would kill him, and while Esai was an asshole, she didn't want him dead.
As usual, she hesitated at the threshold of the clubhouse. At night, during club parties, walking in and out of the place was easy. It was during the daylight hours when it didn't feel right to walk in unaccompanied. It felt like entering sacred ground. Still, she'd been invited there, by Juice and Gemma, so she took a deep breath and pushed inside. The familiar smell of stale beer and bleach was surprisingly comforting. It made her feel like she was finally safe, like she could breathe. No one would harm her within the clubhouse walls.
Gemma walked out from somewhere in the back, a look of relief passing over her face at the sight of her. "Oh good. You're here," she said, holding out her hands to take the bags Angela had. "Gimme those. We need your help."
Angela was shocked by the entire interaction. Gemma being relieved to see her? What the hell was going on? "My help?" she asked, watching as Gemma set the bags down to the side.
Gemma opened one of the big heavy doors to the chapel, revealing Juice and Chibs standing beside another very pale looking guy who was laid out on his stomach on top of the Redwood table. Angela could see blood soaking through the yellow emergency sheet underneath him. Juice was sitting beside him, his hand somewhere between the guy's legs, very close to his ass. "Hey baby," he greeted with an up nod as if the situation was the most normal thing in the world.
"Hi," she replied cautiously, narrowing her eyes as she took a step closer. Juice's hand was definitely near if not in the guy's asshole. "Where's your hand?"
"Plugging up a bullet hole...not up his ass," he clarified quickly.
The man groaned, lifting his head up a little at the sound of a new voice. "You the doctor?"
"Oh...no. No, I'm definitely not a doctor," she stated, glancing over at Gemma with wide eyes as the man muttered something unintelligible then promptly passed out again. "You think I know how to help with this?"
"You know anatomy, don't'cha?" Gemma stated as if that explained anything. "Should be able to help with somethin'."
"I'm a mortician, not a doctor! He's alive! What the hell am I s'posed to do here?" Angela hissed back at her.
Gemma threw her hands out to the side. "I don't know! Figure something out!"
"Figure something out?" she repeated, looking at her like she was crazy. Gemma nodded, gesturing to him again as if that would clarify things. Chibs was chuckling softly, Juice barely hiding a smile. Angela glared at them. "Gem, the best I can do is tell you which vessel Juice currently has his finger in and fill it with embalming fluid, which will kill him!"
Gemma scowled at her, shaking her head in disapproval just as the sound of more bikes roared through the otherwise quiet clubhouse. "I gotta go tend to them. You stay here. Try to make yourself useful. Maybe trade places with your boy."
Angela watched her walk out, mouth slightly open. "Juice, I love you, but I'm not stickin' my finger up the guy's ass."
"In it," Juice corrected with a shrug. "Wouldn't let you do it anyway."
She shook her head at him, stepping in closer to really assess what was happening. It appeared the guy had a large bullet hole in very close proximity to his butthole. Juice's finger was almost all the way inside the wound, his entire hand covered in blood. Blood stained the front and the sleeves of his white t-shirt, which was a shame because she really loved that shirt. She dropped a kiss to the top of Juice's head. "How did you even end up in this position, goof?"
"Fuckin' Chibs," he said nodding towards the Scot who gave her a little wave in return.
"Needed somethin' to plug up the bleed. Don't have the most advanced tools here," Chibs explained on a shrug. "Used the closest thing I had."
Angela stifled a laugh at the glare Juice was sending Chibs. "Don't you fuckin' laugh at me, Angel," Juice said, trying and failing to turn that angry glare on her. He puffed up his chest a little. "I'm saving someone's life here."
"And you're doing a fantastic job," she replied, squeezing his shoulder lovingly. "So good, I may give you a massage as a reward."
"With a happy ending?" he asked, eyes big and hopeful.
She glanced over at Chibs conspiratorially. "What d'ya think, Chibbies? He deserve a happy ending?"
Chibs chuckled, shrugging a shoulder. "Perhaps. 's long as he makes sure you get one too," he said, giving her a wink.
The doors opened again and Gemma ushered Tara in. Tara's eyes took in the scene for a brief moment before they landed on Angela, brows furrowed in confusion. She waved at the doctor, trying not to laugh at the astonished look on Tara's face. "Oh my God," Tara murmured, looking at Gemma for explanation.
"Took two slugs. Got one," Gemma explained, hands on her hips. "Little Dutch boy's keeping the blood dike from bursting. Little Miss Undertaker, here, was useless."
"Again, I deal with dead people," Angela reminded her, walking around the table to stand beside Chibs and observe as Gemma explained who Tara was to the now conscious man on the table. The man asked Tara something about being Irish, his voice thick with an Irish accent.
Tara didn't seem too pleased with the whole situation. She handed a box of gloves to Gemma who took them, immediately handing them over to Angela. "You're up, undertaker."
"Undertaker?" the Irish man repeated, lifting his head slightly. "Am I dyin'?"
"Nah, just here as a precaution," Angela answered sarcastically, earning her another glare from Gemma. She grabbed the box of gloves from her and pulled on a pair before nodding to Tara. "What can I do, Doc?"
Tara handed her some gauze. "I'm gonna have Juice move his finger from the wound, you're gonna stuff in that gauze, and I'm gonna close it off with this clamp, okay?"
"Sure you know what you're doin'?" Gemma asked from over Angela's shoulder, eyebrow raised.
Tara glowered at her. "Guess we'll find out," she said, her tone flat, lethal. She nodded towards Juice. "On three, ready?"
Angela waited for three, watching as Juice moved his hand, and a geyser of blood shot into the air. Pressurized blood, she noted. So he'd nicked an artery, she thought, slightly amused at her recollection of physiology as she packed the gauze in there. Tara clamped the artery relatively easily, stopping the bleeding.
Juice glanced from the wound to Angela, eyes sparkling with fascination. "Holy shit. Great job, Doc," he praised, familiar with Tara from his previous stay at St. Thomas. "Can I go and wash my hands and stuff?"
Gemma's hands covered Angela's as Tara praised Juice for his work. "Go tend to your boy. His bag's by the door. I can handle this," Gemma ordered so only Angela could hear.
For the first time that day, she could actually do what Gemma asked and happily too. She stripped off her gloves, following Juice out the door. He hadn't made it far and was standing beside his bag, a hesitant look on his face. She knew it was because he didn't want to touch his relatively clean bag with bloody hands. "Do not touch anything," she told him, grabbing his bag and slinging it over her shoulder. "C'mon, goof. Let's get you cleaned up."
"Thanks, baby." A look of relief crossed his face as he led her towards the back dorms. She tossed the bag down on the floor as soon as they stepped inside, relieved to see it was pretty clean. It didn't appear to have been used recently which meant Jax had found a better place to sleep. She secretly hoped it was with Tara. She nodded towards the bathroom. "Straight to the shower, Ortiz."
Juice stopped to kiss her forehead sweetly. Usually, he'd offer for her to join him, but she got the feeling he didn't want the blood on his hands to get on her. She still followed after him into the bathroom, holding her hands out for his rings as he took them off. She plugged the sink basin, filling it with water and dumping the rings into it while he stripped down and got into the steaming hot shower.
His soft groan made her smile. "Feel good?" she asked, finding a bottle of bleach underneath the sink and dumping a small amount into the sink basin filled with water to soak his rings and adding his white t-shirt into it as well. She picked one of his rings up and grabbed the toothbrush sitting in a cup there, dunking the toothbrush into the water to start scrubbing at it. She mentally made a note to buy a new toothbrush to replace the one she was using after she was done.
"So good. You got no idea. Feels like I haven't moved my arm in fuckin' days," he answered before sighing again.
"Hurry up with the shower, and I'll give you a good massage. Get you feelin' better real fast," she told him, slipping on the ring and grabbing another.
He groaned again. "Can't fuckin' wait."
~'~'~'~
Juice stepped out of the shower, grabbing the towel Angela had set out for him on the counter top to dry himself off. She was sitting on the lid of the toilet, hair pulled back slightly and clipped at the back of her head. He loved the simple way she was dressed. She was wearing a navy vintage Mets t-shirt he'd given her when he'd taken her to her first Met's game. It was slightly big on her, and she had tied it in the front a bit so it sat over the waist of her ripped jeans. She was wearing her navy and white Nike Cortez shoes, a departure from her usual Adidas, and he knew if Jax saw her he'd give her shit for it, especially since they constantly bickered over which brand was better. He glanced up from her shoes to her face, smirking when he realized her eyes were following the towel he was drying himself with as if entranced, her lower lip caught between her teeth. He purposefully flexed his abs, and a small blush rose to her cheeks. "Like what you see, Angel?" he teased her, wrapping the towel around his waist. "You can stop droolin' now. Show's over."
"Goof," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head at him. "Can't believe you had your finger up that guy's ass."
"In not up," he corrected, going to his bag to grab his clean clothes. He changed into his clothes, fighting the urge to tease Angela about the way she was already soaking his white t-shirt in some kind of soapy water in the sink; he knew she loved that shirt and was probably trying to get the blood stains out of it to salvage it. "Will the stains come out of the shirt?"
"Think so," she answered, around a yawn. She covered her mouth with her hand, and he realized she was wearing all of his rings. They weren't stained with blood anymore but gleaming gold in the bathroom light. He had no doubt she'd worked hard to clean every single spot of blood off of them for him. He couldn't love her more. She did everything she could for him, and he appreciated it so much. Wished he could do the same for her. Instead, he kept skipping out on her, leaving her alone. She'd sounded so strange on the phone the night before that he'd almost told Chibs he had to go and bounced on him just to make sure she was all right. Had she not slept? Was that why she was so tired? What had kept her awake? "Sorry about last night," he offered on a frown.
"Oh, it's fine. Figured you had something big goin' on," she replied on a shrug as she looked down at her hand.
She was being quiet. Too quiet, and she seemed to be avoiding looking at him. Something was wrong. "Angel?" he stated, catching her attention. Her dark eyes met his, and he swore he saw a brief flicker of fear in them before worry came across her brow. He didn't like that range of emotions. Not one bit. He studied her face, noting a small bruise on her cheek, barely visible through her makeup. Her lower lip was slightly puffy. How had he not noticed that before? He dragged his thumb gently over her lower lip. "Who did this to you?"
Her brows furrowed together for a moment, but she didn't pull away. "I um...don't freak out," she started, messing with one of the big rings on her fingers. "Esai showed up at the funeral home."
His breath caught in his throat. Of all the things he thought she was going to say, that was not one of them. Anger flowed through him. Esai had showed up at her place of work, had hit her, and he hadn't been there to protect her. No wonder she'd sounded so frazzled on the phone the night before; she'd probably been scared Esai was going to come looking for her. "Are you serious?" he asked, dropping his hand from her face. He carefully hooked a finger in the sleeve of her t-shirt, pulling it up slightly. He'd thought he'd seen something there earlier but chalked it up to be a shadow. It wasn't. Light bruises, spaced apart like fingertips were apparent on her arm.
Angela pulled away, pushing her sleeve back down. "I'm all right, Juice."
"No, no you're not. This isn't all right, Angel," he told her, fuming inside. Enough was enough. That Mayan had to die, and he was going to see to it that it happened. Happy was in town. He'd make sure it was taken care of. "What the fuck did he want?"
"I don't really know," she answered, turning away to wet a paper towel. She turned back to him, starting to dab at the blood on his cut. "I um...he said something about shit going down, and how he wasn't the one that killed Clay. He had to kill some other guy to get some ATF info? I dunno, he wasn't making sense. He messed something up, and I guess he saw my car at Dubrowski's and..."
His brain was reeling with the new information. They'd known the Mayans were responsible for the hit. Had learned from Unser that Darby's place had been shot up too, but the ATF information was new. What kind of information did Darby have that the Mayans wanted? It made sense for Esai to be drawn to her if he'd fucked something up. He was probably desperate for some type of comfort, something familiar, and she happened to show up in his path. Juice would've been drawn to her too. "ATF?" he repeated softly. "Holy shit."
"I have no idea what he meant by it," she stated, eyes downcast before she lifted her head, her dark eyes meeting his. "I-I don't want it to start shit between the clubs, Juice. I don't...Hap will kill him."
Juice was counting on that. Counting on Happy killing Esai once and for all. "We already knew the Mayans were behind it, Angel," he said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "And the ATF shit? I'm not gonna say anythin' 'cause I got no idea what it means. Not gonna bring that shit up 'cause I don't want my brothers turnin' against you."
Her eyes widened as if she hadn't thought of that. "Shit. I didn't...I didn't seek him out. You know that, right? I'd never..."
It had never once entered his mind that she'd sought Esai out. He trusted her, knew in his gut she'd never do that to him. "I know, baby, I know," he assured her, kissing her forehead. It crossed his mind that she could've easily lied to him about it. That she could've given him any reason for the injuries, and he'd probably believe her. He trusted her that much. She didn't though. She'd given him the honest truth, and he appreciated it. "Thanks for tellin' me."
She scowled at him as if the idea of not telling him offended her. "I'd never hide this shit from you," she said, shaking her head as she messed with the little pocket on his cut. "Only reason I didn't say anythin' to begin with was 'cause you were with Chibs. Didn't want you to worry, and I didn't want you to make a scene in front a him."
It was a smart move on her part, and he appreciated her forward thinking. He would've made a scene. Would've told Chibs right away then gone after Esai and beat the shit out of him. "Smart."
"It happens," she replied, the smallest hint of a smile turning up the corners of her lips.
He leaned forward a little, tapping his forehead to hers. "Happens a lot, smarty pants."
The smile that blossomed across her face, made his heart skip a beat. Tilting her head slightly, she caught his lips in a sweet kiss. "C'mon, goof. Believe you were promised a massage with a happy ending."
He realized he'd gotten fully dressed without thinking about the massage he'd been promised. Slowly, he shrugged out of his cut and pulled his shirt over his head. The movement tugged at his sore arm, and he grimaced. She frowned in response, gesturing to the edge of the bed. "Lay down. Face up," she instructed, going to the bedside drawer in the room. He saw her wrinkle her nose before exhaling slowly as she grabbed something from it. "Fuckin' freaks. Have you seen what's in this drawer?"
"Baby, I've had to clean what's in that drawer," he said on a laugh. The drawer was filled with sex toys of all shapes and sizes. Some of which he didn't even know the function of. He was pretty sure most of them were Tig's. It was the worst job as a prospect to keep the shit in there clean and stocked with condoms and lube.
"That's disgusting," she muttered, a tube of massage oil in her hand. She brought it to her nose to sniff and shrugged. "You're gonna smell like fruit punch, but it's gonna feel good."
Juice eyed the bottle as she dropped some oil into her hand. "It's edible too."
She tilted her head to the side as she moved to sit by his hip, facing him. She pulled his hand into her lap with one of her hands, before sliding the other up and down the front of his arm to coat it with the oil. "You know from experience?"
"N-no," he answered quickly as he wrinkled his nose at the sickly sweet smell of the oil. He honestly didn't, but the question had caught him off guard. "I know 'cause I can read."
Angela laughed softly as she took his wrist in both hands and started working her thumbs up his arm, swiping back and forth with just the right amount of pressure. He couldn't contain the groan that left his lips at the feel of it. "Good?" she asked, a prideful smile lighting up her face.
"Fuckin' amazing," he replied, closing his eyes. "How the hell do you know how to do this?"
"Oh um..." she began, flipping his hand over and gliding her hand up his arm, then working her thumb in smooth circles back down. "Raj kinda...taught me how 'cause we'd both get these gnarly arm cramps from taking notes all night."
He groaned as she repeated the movement with a little more pressure. The combination of her hands on him and the way she was moving them was like heaven. He moaned softly at the tip of her thumb dug into a particular sore spot. He couldn't even respond; it all felt so good.
"Didn't do it often, if that makes it better," she continued, moving onto his hand and slowly massaging and pulling gently on each finger. "Raj didn't have the patience for it. Always had somethin' better to do."
"Please stop talking about Raj right now," he requested, squeezing his eyes shut. She wove her fingers between his, rolling his wrist with hers.
She dropped a kiss to the top of his hand. "Sorry," she said on a breathy laugh that made him shiver.
Then her thumbs were digging into his palm, and he wasn't proud of the noise the action elicited from him. "Fuck, baby, your hands are magic."
He leaned up slowly, moving his free hand to the back of her neck and drawing her in close so he could capture her mouth with his own in a heated kiss. He could feel the corners of her lips turning up in a smile. The sweet fruity taste of the oil was on her lips from when she'd kissed his hand making the kiss all the more sweet. He parted her lips with his tongue, getting a better taste before he slid it into her mouth to meet hers. She leaned in closer to him, sliding her leg over his hips, her oil slicked hands on either of his shoulder. He reached up and undid the clip in her hair, tossing it a side before digging his clean hand into the hair at the back of her head drawing her in even closer, feeling himself harden underneath her as she rolled her hips against his. He was caught up in her, lost in the taste of her mouth, in the electric feel of her fingers as they moved over his skin.
A loud knock made him remember exactly where he was, and he pulled away quickly when the knock was followed by a very familiar rough voice shouting, "Idiot! Church!"
Angela sighed, sitting back slightly on his legs as she shook her head. "Fuckin' cockblock," she muttered, getting off of him. She grabbed his shirt and tossed it at his face.
Juice got to his feet as he pulled the shirt off his face and started to put it on. He was just shrugging his cut on when the door opened revealing Tig and Happy. Happy's dark eyes surveyed the scene, no doubt taking in the made bed and that the two of them were fully clothes. His eyes landed on the little bottle of oil on the nightstand, narrowing slightly. "The fuck you doin'?" Happy asked, glaring at him.
Angela moved in front of her cousin, hands on her hips. "Hap, I am fully clothed. We weren't doing anything," she told him honestly.
Juice nodded exaggeratedly in agreement as he moved his arm around Angela's shoulders. Happy wrinkled his nose. "You smell like fuckin' fruit punch."
"How's that shit taste?" Tig asked the two of them, eyebrows raised. "Haven't gotten the chance to try it."
Angela stared at her oil-covered fingers before offering one to Tig for him to taste. Juice knew it was a joke, but he saw the twinkle in Tig's eye. In unison, Hap pushed Tig away while he gently pushed Angela's hand down before Tig got any closer to her. "Don't even think about it," Happy muttered, smacking Tig in the head as he pushed him down the hall.
Angela was trying her best not to laugh, her eyes wide with disbelief. "He was actually gonna lick my hand, wasn't he?"
Sometimes Juice forgot how little Angela knew Tig, or any of his brothers besides a select few. He liked that she didn't know Tig so well. It meant Tig treated her with respect for the most part. That he didn't let her see that freaky, weird side of him. "He was gonna try," Juice answered on a laugh. "Wasn't gonna get very far."
"Fuckin' weirdo," she muttered, shaking her head. "On that note, you got to your little biker meeting, and I'm gonna wash this gross oil off my hands. We'll continue the massage at home where I got the good oil, and my cousin won't come barging in."
He captured her lips in a quick kiss, ignoring the dig at their church meetings. "Give me like twenty minutes, and we'll bounce."
Angela looked doubtful but nodded, shooing him away. "Yeah, yeah, just go before I handcuff you to the bed with those fuzzy pink handcuffs I saw in the drawer," she threatened with a coy smirk. He hesitated for a moment, considering it, which made her laugh. "Just go, goofy!"
"Going, going," he said, jogging towards the chapel with a skip in his step; his mind already fantasizing about the massage he was going to give her once they got home.
~'~'~'~
I really enjoyed writing this one, so I hope you enjoyed reading!!
Let me know what you think!!
🩵