Tig's POV
"The chick's name is Anya Wilde, she's a nurse up in Lodi" Jax began.
"Fuck! She's a nurse! Could that woman be any fucking hotter!" Juice exclaimed further down the table a goofy grin spread across his face. A chorus of chuckles showed that the boys agreed. I clenched my jaw before giving a tight lipped smile, hoping that the boys hadn't seen the unknown rush of emotion that had hit me as Juice appraised the woman outside.I don't know why it rubbed me the wrong way but it did.
"Yeah, yeah", Jax laughed him off, "She's from way east, New York, moved to Cali less than a year ago for work. All's been well here until last night ............
10 minutes before – the benches at Teller-Morrow
Anya's POV
"Have a seat", he pointed at the unsteady looking tables a few feet from us. I sat quickly and he offered me a cigarette, which I took. I'd taken to smoking as a med student as a way of relieving stress and although I had quit several months ago, if there was ever going to be a time that I could use nicotine, it would be now.
"Thanks" I muttered as I took the lit cigarette from him.
"No problem, so what can I do for you?" he looked at me curiously. I think at this point he had recognised me for the pathetic woman I was and just wanted to hear what I had to say so that he could politely decline to help and ask me to leave.
"Oh err please don't lose it when I ask this. I want to buy a gun" I looked down not daring to look him in the eye.
"Well there's licensed gun stores up and down the state sweetheart take your pick!" he said, walls immediately going up.Fuck! I'm going to die.
"Look Mr Teller, I've been told, how truthfully I don't know, but I've been told that you sell weapons. I need a weapon and I need it tonight you point me to a licensed gun dealer that will hand over a firearm without so much as seeing my ID and I will head there right now" I said looking at him, hoping that the need was clear on my face.
"First off call me Jax, only the law calls me Mr Teller. Secondly, even if I did deal guns what makes you think I would just hand one over to you" he smirked at me. Progress!
"I know this is unusual," I began, "butdesperate times call for desperate measures. And I've never been moredesperate," I admitted, he looked at me nodding at me to continue.
"Well, err Ilive in Lodi but I'm originally from New York. I left a few years back tobe a med student at Penn U. While I was there I started getting weird letters inthe mail. They were like love letters, sometimes they'd quote Shakespeare, romantic poetry and shit, othertimes it would be lists of all the things this mystery person loved about me.It was beyond weird but I just played it off as a bored student looking to fuckwith me, or someone with a weird crush who would eventually get over it.
A few months after classes began I started dating a guy who was on thelaw course, Will, and next thing I know the letter became angry, they includedpictures of me and Will, but they were pictures of us, they were pictures ofus grocery shopping, sitting in my living room, getting in the car, walkingWill's dog! Just freaky shit!," I realised I was talking with my hand as Idescribed the craziness.
"And then it took a dark turn. The writer startedtelling me that they were going to take me, they wrote me detailed letters ofmy schedule and habits, down to the days I did yoga at home, they told me theyknew when I was alone and they would take me. He included pictures of me and Will in an ........ intimate moment, but Will's face had been scratched off. When I showed it to Willhe insisted that I stayed with him. This didn't help things, the letters goteven angrier, the writer told me that they were going to kill me, that if theycouldn't have me then nobody could. It all got too much for me andWill and we split, I made him leave I didn't want to put him in danger.
After that the letters settled down again, they still came butit was back to the lovey dovey crap that they'd spouted at the beginning, buthe included photos of himself, not his face but his arm or his hair just bitsof him. I went to the police then, but they said there was nothing they coulddo. The most they could pick this guy up for was harassment but because Ididn't know who he was they wouldn't investigate. I even went to one of Will's professors but he said the same as the police, legally there was nothing they could do.
I felt hopeless, I wasterrified that this guy would show up at any time and grab me. But then a couple of months beforeI moved here all the letters stopped. When I got offered the job in Lodi Ithought it was a great way to put the whole thing behind me and completely moveon with my life. I moved here and everything was going well, I even startedsort of seeing one of the surgeons at work, but then last night another letterarrived. I have no idea how he found me. The letter said how much he missed meand that we would be together soon. He congratulated me on my birthday a coupleof weeks ago and said he loved what I'd done with the apartment. And then therewere the photographs. Some of them were me, heading to and from work, sittingon the balcony of my apartment and stuff like that. Then there was the photo ofhim. It was just his arm, but it was different from the last time he sent it,he's been working out, he wrote on the back of the photo 'What do you think mylove?'.
I didn't sleep last night, I spent the night sat on the sofa holdingonto a baseball bat twitching every time I heard a sound. I went to the policeagain this morning who said that no crime had been committed therefore theywouldn't investigate. It was a friend at work who told me that she had heard that your club sold weapons, I didn't know if it was true but I had to find out I need to be able to protect myself." I finished trying to steady my breath, hoping that the fear I had lived in at Penn and the fear that this was happening again was present in my voice.
"Wow. Psycho basically," Jax laughed humourlessly, "So you've got no idea who he is or what he looks like and you want me to give you a gun so you can shoot at any man that comes too close?"
"Give me some credit Jax," I replied, trying not to sound angry, "I don't intend to get trigger happy I just need to know that when it comes down to it if he does show up I know that I have a final option"
"Hmmm okay" Jax muttered rubbing his hands over his face, "I've gotta take this to the club, I can't just be handing shit over here okay? So sit tight I'll talk to them," and with that he up and left.
Tig's POV
"Fuck this guy sounds like a total creep" Bobby exclaimed as Jax finished Anya's story.
"You got that right," Jax muttered as he lit another cigarette.
"She want protection?" Happy rasped out.
"Nah," Jax shrugged, "she wants a gun, thinks she can take care of herself if she's packin'"
"How she know about the guns?" Chibs asked, one eyebrow raised in clear mistrust.
"Friend of hers in Lodi, heard it on the streets and told her, she figured it was her one shot at getting a piece tonight" Jax added.
"I don't like it Jackie Boy! This gash turns up out of nowhere, no ties to this club, weak ties to California after hearing word from a 'friend'! Just doesn't add up to me" Chibs sighed looking at the table. I refrained from letting my fist speak my opinion of Chibs' reference to this woman as a 'gash'.
"Let Happy talk to her," Juice said, everyone looked at him like he was stupid, "Man you said she was terrified, he won't have to do shit to her he can just fucking look at her and she would spill!" Juice tried to defend himself.
"Not a bad idea," Jax mused, "Hap! Go say hi to our guest, Juice get a background check anything you can on Anya Wilde. But before we leave the table lets vote it! If Hap says she's good and Juice finds nothing all in favour of selling her a piece! Yay!" Jax stated. A chorus of yay's followed around the table as we all got up and left the room. Happy headed outside, Juice headed to his laptop and everyone else headed to their abandoned drinks. Everyone apart from me. I headed to the front of the screen where you could clearly see the woman sitting, head in hands, on the picnic tables.
It was clear from the small video screen that Happy was having the desired effect, and I felt my stomach churn at the thought that she was frightened. An odd sensation of wanting to tell her she was safe and to hold her until she believed me tingled up my spine. What the fuck was with this chick? What the hell was she doing to my head?!
I looked at the screen and watched as Happystood far too close to her, rasping something at her that terrified her. Sherushed to say something back, possibly to defend herself, when he grabbed herankle and pulled, forcing her to stand in front of the table, before she couldblink he had turned her and pushed her hips to meet the edge of the tablebefore he pushed his whole body up behind her and grabbed her hair pulling her headback so he could whisper menacingly in her ear. She was
shaking so badly it was visible on the video feed. It took every ounce of self-control I had (and several ounces I didn't know I had) to stay sat down and not rush to her.
"You really gotta be so rough to her?" I asked Happy, half a second after he walked through the door, before he could even open his mouth to say what he thought of her.
"Needed to surprise her," he shrugged, "make sure it wasn't just an act."
"And?" Bobby prompted.
"Chick's scared outta her mind, couldn't stop fucking shaking, think she's genuine" he nodded assertively. The guys nodded with him, pleased with his response. Next everybody looked to Juice.
"Okay she's from New York like she told you Jax, half-Russian on her mom's side, no affiliation to any gangs though. Her folks are both teachers, she's got an older brother Heath, he's a Marine stationed down in Florida. Left high school with top grades, attended Penn U to get her doctorate ....... Err she's specialised as a physiotherapist in trauma care, graduated top of the class, valedictorian for her class. Headed to New York for all of a month before taking the job in Lodi. Lives alone, credit card charges are basically the same, gas, groceries, bills, got a subscription to a medical journal, visits her local salon once a month and spends nearly every Friday at Harker's Bar and Grill. And here she is pictured with the boyfriend from Penn in the local newspaper, article is about students raising money for a charity, looks like she helped organise the whole shindig," he finished as he turned the screen around so we could see the photo.
First thought, she looked stunning. She was wearing a little black cocktail dress that hung attractively from her waist and fell to just above her knee. The dress was strapless and the top of the dress fit around her curves perfectly, her reddy-blonde hair was half up and half down loosely curled around her petite frame. I kept studying every feature over and over again, and I was sure I could do this all night until something suddenly stopped my silent appraisal. The hand that rested on her hip. Looking to her left in the photograph I could see the tall, handsome man at her side. Neatly styled dark hair, a well maintained scruff on his face and didn't look half bad in a tux. The line at the bottom of the photograph named him as William James Deighton the Third. Fucking rich prick. Trying to drag myself away from the burning jealousy I felt towards the man all of a sudden I concentrated on the conversation.
Anya's POV
Five minutes after the bald man who I'm sure could kill just by looking directly at someone had left, I was still somewhat shaking. I cursed myself for being so weak at this moment. I had to be strong I had no one to look out for me here in Cali I couldn't turn into a crying mess. Sitting back on the table I tried to distract myself from my possible impending doom, if they decided I wasn't trustworthy, by looking around the lot of the garage that housed the motorcycle club. My eyes landed on the line of bikes not too far from me. I walked over to look at them. I'd never been this close to a motorbike before. Bikes were not something that had much of a place in my life up until this moment. Choices of transport at Penn U were generally flashy cars bought and paid for by daddy dearest not Harley Davison motorcycles. I stepped forward for a closer look at one seeing the S.O.A lettering across the side. I reached my hand up to trace the letters when a voice startled me.
"You know you should never touch a man's bike without his permission"