Juice trudged into his house feeling like shit. It was still early, just barely six o'clock, and he already felt like the weight on his shoulders had increased. His talk with Roosevelt had left him on edge. The Lieutenant's intel had been a little too spot on. He'd known about the drugs, about the cartel. Whoever his important friends were, they had some serious reach, and Juice was afraid of what that meant for him. Blackmail was one hell of a motivator, and what Roosevelt had on him could make him lose everything.

He dropped his pack on the couch, kicking off his boots before padding his way to the bedroom. He stopped in the doorway, looking in to find Angela still in bed, the sheets tangled around her as though she'd been tossing and turning, her dark hair covering the pillow. He'd only been gone two days, and he'd missed her like crazy. Her dirty pictures and sexy texts hadn't helped either. Ever since they'd turned their bikes to Charming, he'd been desperate to get back to her. Roosevelt's little meet had interrupted that, taking his thoughts away from the naughty things he wanted to do to his girl and making him scared of what was to come. He knew the club would abandon him if they found out about his dad's race but would Angela? He knew the answer before he'd even finished asking himself the question. She wouldn't. In fact, he was pretty sure she'd be pissed he'd even considered it.

He stripped off his sweatshirt, hanging it on the hook by the door before taking off his shirt and pants and setting them in a neat pile on the chest at the foot of the bed. Slowly, he slid into bed behind her, draping an arm over her hip and pulling her in close.

Angela tensed briefly when she felt the arm wrap around her waist, pulling her into a warm body. The smell of leather, cologne, and the open road invaded her senses as she slowly opened her eyes. She relaxed into the man behind her briefly before she tuned, moving so she was facing him. "Hey you," she greeted around a yawn.

"Hey beautiful." He gave her a warm smile, one hand reaching up to brush a stray hair off her cheek. Leaning over, he caught her lips in a quick kiss.

"Welcome home," she murmured, moving in closer to him. Her lips pressed a kiss into his neck as her hand slid up his bareback, the heel of it putting just the right amount of pressure on his sore muscles.

He groaned as her strong fingers dug into the muscles at the base of his neck. "God, I missed you," he murmured into her hair.

Angela pulled back to smile at him, her eyes meeting his. In the dim morning light of their bedroom, she could still see the smallest hint of fear in his eyes and the knots in his back told her that he was stressed beyond belief. She'd never felt knots that big. What was going on with him?

"You're worrying again," he stated softly. "I can tell 'cause you get this cute little wrinkle right here." He kissed the wrinkle between her eyebrows, his thumb gently stroking over her cheek.

"You caught me," she said giving him a sheepish grin.

He pulled her in closer, tucking her head under his chin as his hands smoothed over her back. "I'm fine, Angel," he lied.

She didn't believe him, not for a second, but if that's what he wanted to tell her, what he needed to tell her, she'd let it slide. Nuzzling her nose against the bare skin of his chest, she kissed the tattoo of her name across his heart. "Okay, baby," she murmured, knowing she made the right decision not to confront him when he relaxed against her.

"You got work today?" he asked, moving to his back and pulling her with him so her head was against his chest.

"Not 'til the afternoon."

He yawned, pulling the covers up higher over both of them. "I'm gonna nap," he stated, closing his eyes, "and then I want what you promised me in those texts. Couldn't sleep the whole fuckin' night thinkin' of 'em."

Angela laughed as his hand slid lower down her back, dipping under the elastic of her boxers to settle on her ass. Moving her leg between his, she nodded against his chest. "Fair enough."

------------

Tara's hands shook as she picked up the phone and dialed Angela's number. She'd just found blank paper in the envelope that was supposed to contain the copies of the letters. It rang for awhile before Angela's cheery voice answered, "Angela Ruiz."

"Ang, it's Tara. You busy?"

Angela looked down at the dead body on the table and sighed. "Kind of," she said, glad she'd thought to put her Bluetooth headset on before starting her work. It'd become a habit since Juice went inside to always have a way to answer the phone.

"I just...remember when you told me to make copies of that stuff to give to someone?"

It took her a minute to sort out that she was talking about the letters. Of course she was talking about the letters. Those damn things were the only thing they ever talked about nowadays. "Yeah."

"Well, I made the copies, and when I went to give 'em to Margaret, all I found were blank pages of paper."

Angela cursed under her breath, snapping off her gloves to run a hand through her hair. "Shit."

"Has Gemma come around your place? I figure she'd go there next."

"No because I don't have a copy of those letters," Angela practically hissed into the phone.

"She doesn't know that."

"Fuck," she cursed, kicking at the table.

She heard Skeeter's voice come over the intercom. "Angie! Someone here to see you!"

Angela sighed, pulling off the rest of her protective gear. "I got to go. I have a vistitor. Might be her," she said begrudgingly shoving her stuff into the biohazard bin. "I'll talk to you later."

"Okay," Tara answered on a sigh. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Heading into her office, she stopped at the doorway, peeking her head in just in time to see Unser slam one of her desk drawers shut. "Hello," she greeted, catching the ex-Chief's attention. She hadn't had much interaction with him in the past which made his presence there even more suspicious. At least Gemma could get away with saying she just wanted to say hi. Having Unser there was a red flag if she'd ever seen one. She knew he had cancer, but if he was going to pull the whole "I want to plan my own funeral" thing, she might throw something at him.

"Oh. Hey there, Angie. How's it...uh...how's it going?"

Angela sighed heavily, shaking her head at the older man. "I don't have them."

"Have what, sweetheart?" he asked, playing dumb.

"The letters you're all going crazy about. I don't have them. I never did have them, and if you'd be so kind as to tell Gemma that, I'd very much appreciate it," she stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

Unser leaned back in the chair as if it was his own office, not hers. "What's this then?" he asked pulling out the brown accordion folder she had in her desk drawer. "Gemma said the letters were in a folder like this."

Angela stared at him in disbelief. That folder. The one that held her resumes and pictures was what had gotten her into this mess? No wonder Gemma had followed her home after seeing her with that folder at Rita's shop! She'd taken it only to show Rita a flower arrangement someone had sent her a picture of, and Gemma had mistaken it as the one with all the letters. "Go ahead and look. It's just a bunch of pictures of dead people and some flowers."

He gave her a doubtful look as he opened up the folder and started pulling things out. "Jesus Christ," he muttered after seeing a particularly gruesome picture. "What the hell do you have all these for?"

"To show to potential clients because when I'm not neck deep in club shit, I'm an undertaker, if you haven't noticed."

Unser sighed, running a hand over his balding head. "Shit."

"Yeah. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. You can keep going through my desk if you really want to. I have nothing to hide," she said before turning on her heel and heading back to her work room.

"Wait, Angela!" the older man called after her. She stopped and turned to face him, arms crossed over her chest as she glanced at him expectantly. He sighed, running a hand over his bald head again. "You really don't know anything about them?"

She nodded. "I really don't," she stated only half lying. "Believe me; I've been trying to stay out of this whole ordeal since day one."

Unser sighed again in response. After years of being a cop, he had a pretty good sense of when people were lying, and she wasn't. He believed her when she said she knew nothing about the letters, but just because he believed her, didn't mean he could convince Clay of her innocence and that was what worried him. Clay had been the one to send him over there because Gemma had mentioned something about the undertaker, and to be honest, he'd gotten himself caught just to have a word with her, feel her out. He had a feeling she wasn't as involved as Gemma and Clay suspected. Now that he knew he'd been right, he was going to do his best to convince them to leave her alone. If history taught him anything, it was that Clay was dangerous when threatened. Unser had read those letters and if what they said were true, Clay had JT killed because he was threatening the gun trade. What made Tara and Angela any different? "I believe you, sweetheart," he said on a nod as he opened the front door. "Have a good day."

Angela gave him a weird look as if surprised by how easily the conversation had ended. "Thanks. You too," she said, a confused look on her face. As soon as the door closed behind him, she headed back down to her work room. Sinking down on the little stool in the corner and putting her head in her hands as she tried to think of what a visit from Unser could mean. Gemma already knew she didn't have the letters; why would she send him to come and double check? It made no sense. Sighing, she raked a hand through her hair. "I need a drink," she mumbled, her eyes on the half embalmed dead guy on the table. "I'll finish you up, sir, and then I'm finding a bottle of tequila."

She made quick work of her last client and headed straight home. She wasn't surprised when she pulled into the drive and Juice's bike was nowhere in sight. He'd texted her to say he'd be home late and not to worry. For once, she could honestly say she wasn't worried about him. She was worried about herself and what those damn letters could lead to. Sighing, she grabbed her bottle of tequila out of the cabinet and took a quick swig. The liquid burned her throat but did nothing to calm her nerves. She opened up the utensil drawer, rifling through it until she found a straw. It was one of those bendy plastic straws with loops in an obnoxious pink color that Ellie had gotten one day at the movies, but it would do. In a move she learned from Piney, she stuck the straw in the bottle and headed towards her room planning to drown herself in the alcohol so she wouldn't have to think about the crazy turns her life was taking and how helpless she was to steer herself clear of them.

------------

Juice had almost gotten a small sample of coke out of the cartel's stash when Phil knocked on the door. Cursing the stupid prospect, he tucked the brick of blow into his pants and opened it, determined to go back once he was done telling Phil to go do his job. He'd almost gotten away with it too until the Mayan showed up. After giving the guy a lame excuse, he locked the door behind him; all the while he could feel the key of coke stashed down the front of his pants.

The Mayan's dark eyes gave him a once over, making him feel uncomfortable. "You Angela's new man?" he asked.

Juice paused at the question, wondering how the hell the Mayan knew that. He shoved his hands deep into his sweatshirt pockets, hoping they hid the lump on his torso. "Yeah," he said quickly.

He looked him over again as if appraising whether he was worthy of Angela or not. After a minute, he nodded. "Take care a her."

" 'course," he replied on a nod. It was the first time Juice had ever talked to a Mayan about Angela, the first time he really saw how much they cared about her. He'd been so out of his head with worry the day the Mayans had helped them find Angela after she'd been kidnapped by Salazar; he hadn't really noticed how much they wanted to save her too. Now, Juice could see it in the other man's eyes and knew if the Sons abandoned her because of something stupid he did, she'd always have the Mayans to take care of her. It was both an unsettling and comforting notion, and he hoped like hell it would never come to that.

The Mayan nodded, still looking a little unsure about him before heading to the door, pausing and waiting for him to leave. Juice nodded at him and hightailed it out of there going to hide in the brush on the side of the warehouse. He made himself comfortable against a tree as he decided he would put the key back later when the coast was clear.

------------

Angela woke up to her phone ringing. Groaning she opened one eye and was immediately met with a ray of sunlight that made her shut them again as the world spun around her. She reached out for the phone. "Yeah?" she grunted, foregoing her official greeting for a more informal one because of her current hungover state.

"Hey," Lyla's voice replied sounding a little shaken. "It's me."

"Sup, Lyla?" she asked, her words a little slurred.

"Are you okay?"

"Mmm," she hummed in response, reaching out for the almost empty tequila bottle next to her. It hadn't been all the way full when she'd started in on it, but she certainly had drunk quite a bit. "Just...tequila."

"Are you drunk?"

Angela sat up slowly, feeling a little miserable. She usually didn't get too hung over from tequila, mostly because she only bought the expensive kind, but after drinking about half the bottle, her head was pounding. "Sorta."

Lyla's responding laugh didn't sound all that natural. There was definitely something else bothering her. "Hey, did Juice come home last night?"

She glanced over to the other side of the bed and saw that it was a mess just like her side which either meant he'd slept in it or she did quite a bit of tossing and turning that night. She knew he hadn't been home when she'd passed out, but that didn't mean he hadn't come home at all; he could've easily come home late and left early. "I honestly have no idea. Why?"

"Ope didn't."

"Shit," was the only consoling word Angela had to offer.

Lyla sighed. "I was going to stop by the clubhouse. See if they've seen him over there. Would you...would you come with me?"

Angela rubbed a hand over her face. The Sons' compound was the last place she wanted to go after what happened the day before. "Really, Ly? You're an Old Lady. You'll be fine."

"Please, Ang?"

With a sigh, she conceded, throwing back the covers and trying her best to not trip over her feet as she got out of bed. She fell flat on her ass and laughed at herself. "Ly, I can't drive right now. I am not entirely sure I can walk, to be honest."

"I'll pick you up," she said on a laugh. "Be over in fifteen. I'll bring coffee."

After emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet, a quick shower, a cold beer, and two aspirins, Angela was feeling a lot better. She heard the honk of the Prius and slowly made her way towards the door, already armed with sunglasses to combat the bright light of the outside world. With a grunt, she got into the passenger's side of the car and immediately slouched down into the seat.

"Hey sunshine," Lyla greeted on a laugh. Angela glared at her over the top of her sunglasses which only made the blonde laugh more. "Who were you drinking with?" she asked, holding out a coffee cup in a silent peace offering.

Angela eagerly took it and took a long sip. "Myself and the Entourage crew. Was a marathon on TV," she answered. At Lyla's shocked look, she shrugged. "What? I had a hard day at work."

Lyla didn't want to know what a hard day at work meant for an undertaker. "Juice wasn't around to drink with?"

"Nah, he was busy doing...whatever it is those boys do."

"Yeah, he was at the porn studio, but he left early. I heard him mention something about Clear Passages."

"Figures," Angela said on a smirk as they turned into the TM compound. She got out of the car a little slower than Lyla, groaning as she made her way over to where the blonde was talking to Tara and Gemma. She caught the tail end of the conversation, the obvious lie Gemma told Lyla about Ope not being there.

Standing next to Lyla, she tried hard to keep her face blank as both Tara and Gemma fed the blonde some bull shit about "lizard brain" and that Ope needed some time. Something was up, Angela could sense it; they were being way too nice. Her eyes discreetly looked around the parking lot and spotted the white Lexus with the personalized plate. Shit, she thought, hoping like hell Lyla wouldn't notice it. That was more drama she didn't need. Tara and Gemma said a quick goodbye before heading towards where Bobby and Tig had just pulled in leaving Lyla standing there with Angela.

"See? Told ya," Angela said, trying her best to reassure her while also blocking the view of Ima's car. Lyla wasn't stupid though. She saw the Lexus right away and after a muttered curse word, headed straight for the clubhouse. "Or not," she muttered, hurrying after Lyla.

She made it to the clubhouse just as Ima sauntered out as if she owned the place. Leaning against the wall for better balance, Angela listened to the whole ugly exchange, her fists clenched at her sides, ready to intervene if necessary.

"Hey, I was just following his lead," Ima stated, a cocky look on her face. "Married pussy is boring pussy."

Angela reached for Lyla grabbing her wrist and holding her back as she tried to launch herself at Ima. She'd seen the way the porn star had slyly reached into her purse and wasn't at all surprised when Ima pulled out the little pistol, aiming it straight at Lyla, and, by proximity, her as well. "Woah, easy," Angela said, holding up her hands to show she wasn't armed.

"Why him?" Lyla demanded, her voice shaking.

Ima didn't lower the gun. "You want answers, sweetheart? Why don't you ask the cock that was inside me last night?"

Lyla covered her face, a loud sob escaping her lips as she headed towards the back of the clubhouse. Angela hesitated a moment, her eyes going to Gemma briefly as though asking for permission to follow. Gemma nodded in response. Slowly, Angela backed out of the room, not trusting Ima enough to turn her back on her.

Once clear of the main room, Angela walked down the hall just in time to see Lyla's high-heel shoe disappear up the ladder that led to the roof. "Oh fuck me," Angela cursed under her breath. She felt like shit. The last thing she wanted to do was climb up that ladder, but her friend needed her. Taking a deep breath, she gripped the first rung and started pulling herself up. She flipped open the little door and carefully climbed onto the clubhouse roof. "Y'know, I must really love you if I'm willing to risk my life climbin' that thing hungover."

"Thanks." Lyla let out a light laugh, leaning her head against Angela's shoulder as she sat down next to her. Angela was quiet as they sat there together, both immersed in their own thoughts. Lyla appreciated her silence; she didn't feel much like talking. She felt like crawling into a hole and dying. She hadn't been married all that long and he'd cheated on her. Worse, cheated on her with Ima of all people. It just didn't make sense. Sure, he'd been distant, but she never thought he'd actually cheat on her. Not so soon after the wedding and definitely not with Ima. "What do I do now, Ang?"

"Have Ope tested for STDs then scrub him down with bleach?" Angela offered lamely.

Lyla smirked, shaking her head at her friend. Only Angela could make her smile when all she wanted to do was cry. "Is that what you would do?"

"I'm pretty sure Hap would slaughter Juice before I even got a chance to make that decision," she answered, only half joking.

"C'mon, Ang. Be serious."

Angela sighed, raking a hand through her hair. "I don't know. What you and Ope have is different than what Juice and I have, but if we were married and he fucked Ima, then I'd seriously think about leaving him."

"But you wouldn't actually do it."

She shrugged a shoulder. "I'm old school. I take that whole 'til death' thing seriously. That's the way I was raised which is probably why Hap might actually kill my husband should he cheat. Make him disappear since he knows I won't leave him."

"Mmm," Lyla hummed in response, distracted by the group of men on bikes that had just rode in. She watched as Opie got off his bike, gasping when Piney knocked him down with his oxygen tank.

Angela laughed at the sight of the big man falling like a tree. She only wished she could've been there to hear what Piney said to him because she knew it had to be good. "At least you don't have to be the one to hit him."

Lyla scowled at her, but a smile still tugged at the corners of her lips. She sniffled lightly as she wiped at her eyes. "What do I say to him?"

"You'll know. As soon as you see him, you'll know what to say, what to do," she answered confidently. "And if you don't, take his lead."

As if on cue, the small door in the floor opened and Opie climbed out. Angela patted Lyla's shoulder reassuringly as she stood up. "Hey Ang," he greeted on a nod.

"Asshole," she replied, her tone as nice as if she'd called him by his actual name.

"Yeah. I deserve that," he said on a sigh, holding the door for her.

Angela nodded again. "Yep," she shot back before slowly climbing down the ladder and into the clubhouse.

Instead of going back to the barroom, she headed into Juice's dorm room. Closing the door behind her, she made sure it was locked before lying down on the bed. Grabbing the pillow, she smiled when she realized it smelled like her shampoo which meant she was the last one to sleep there. She closed her eyes as she sunk into the cozy bed hoping she could sleep her hangover away.

She hadn't been asleep long when her phone rang. Sighing, she pulled it out of her pocket and checked the caller ID. It was the prepay Hap had used last time he'd called her. "Hey cuz," she greeted, sitting up in the bed and pulling her legs into her chest.

"Hey kid," Happy's gruff voice greeted her in response. "Got a question."

"I got an answer," she replied, picking at a hole in her jeans.

"Your man come home last night?"

Angela's brows furrowed together as she tried to remember. The events from the night before were hazy at best. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Happy's voice repeated flatly. "How the hell do you not know?"

She raked a hand through her hair, knowing her answer was likely to piss him off. "I may or may not have drunk half a bottle of tequila last night which may or may not have led to me passing out on my bed around tenish."

"Jesus, kid," he cursed. "What'd you do that for?"

"Long day at work. Needed something to take the edge off."

"Most people fuck for that."

"Do you really want to go there, Hap?" she asked, smirking to herself.

Happy sighed into the phone, rubbing his temples with his thumb and pointer finger. He'd called Angela because he had the sneaking suspicion that Juice was the one who'd stolen that key of coke. His whole "wait and see" idea was total bullshit, a move only a guilty man would try. Hap had no doubt the idiot would try and sneak the kilo back in himself while they gave the prospects their "space." If Juice hadn't gone home the night before, he had to have slept there, which meant the kilo was nearby. The only person who'd know that information, however, was Angela, and she was proving unhelpful. "His side of the bed looked slept in?"

"Yeah. Where's this comin' from, Hap? Is there something I should know?"

"Somethin' went missin'. Just want to rule him out. Don't worry about it, kid," he said, watching Juice head off into the brush to "take a piss." Take a piss, his ass. The idiot was guilty, and if his little cousin's happiness didn't rely on that mohawked asshole, Hap would expose him for the lying bitch he was. But Angela did love him, and Happy wasn't one hundred percent sure about his suspicion. He wasn't about to jeopardize his cousin's happiness on a gut feeling even if it meant Juice would get away with it.

He heard his cousin sigh. "I really hate when you say that."

"I know," he replied on a smirk. That's when he heard the gunshots. "Shit. I gotta go, kid." He didn't give her time to reply, just hung up the phone and jogged after Chibs in the direction Juice had just disappeared in.

Angela headed back into the barroom, giving a quick nod to Gemma in greeting. She noticed Tig there talking to a younger girl, Chucky staring at her longingly from his place at the bar. Bobby sat close by, obviously eavesdropping on the conversation. The curly haired man nodded at her. "Ang. Got a minute?"

She stopped, raising an eyebrow as she nodded. "Yeah. What's up?"

"Somethin' happened with your boy. He's on his way over to Jax's place to get patched up. You should probably head over," Bobby said slowly.

"Patched up," she repeated softly, her brow creased in worry. Her mind raced through all of the scenarios that could've happened as she patted her pockets for her car keys. "Shit. I don't have my car!"

Gemma gave her a sympathetic smile as she pushed off of the bar. "C'mon, undertaker. You can take the truck. I'll have one of the guys pick it up later."

"Thanks, Gemma," she said, following the older woman out to the TM office.

Gemma dangled the key over the girl's awaiting palm. "Don't speed with it, all right? You got time. Boys just got there."

Angela nodded quickly, anything to make her give her the key faster. Once Gemma lay the key in her hand, she was off, sprinting towards the truck and hopping into it. It wasn't the easiest thing to drive, but she managed it just fine as she sped her way out of the compound, not paying any mind to what Gemma had just said.

She pulled up to the front of Jax's house and sprinted up the walk, ringing the doorbell quickly. Phil opened the door, a grim look on his face. "Hey Ang."

"Where is he?" she demanded, brusquely brushing by him into the house.

"In the kitchen. Doc's on her way," the Prospect explained, not at all offended by her discourtesy. He could see the panic in her eyes, understood the need she had to see Juice.

Angela nodded quickly before pausing a moment, as if she realized how rude she was being. "Thanks Phil."

Phil smiled shyly as he nodded. That was the polite Angie he was used to. "No sweat, Ang."

The pain was blinding as Juice sat there on Jax's kitchen chair, blood slowly oozing from his wound into the dishrag Rat was currently holding to it. He clung desperately to the edge of the table, struggling against the need to scream as his leg throbbed. That's when he saw her, rushing into the kitchen like she was there to save him. "Angel," he gasped out, reaching out a bloodied, hand to her.

She rushed to him, moving around Rat and taking his hand into her own. "I'm here, baby," she murmured, stepping between his legs and pressing a quick kiss to his lips as he wrapped his arms around her. He buried his face into her stomach, using the cloth of her tank top to muffle his cries of pain. He grabbed the back of her top in a tight fist, his other hand gripping her thigh, squeezing tighter with each new wave of pain. Now that she was there, one hand slowly smoothing back and forth over his head while the other rubbed his back, he found the pain a little easier to bear. "I got you Juice," she whispered, kissing his head. "I got you."

It broke her heart to see him suffer, and though she wanted desperately to know what happened, she kept quiet knowing that asking him now wouldn't help him any. From what she could tell, someone had shot him in the thigh, a through and through by the way there was blood slowly dripping onto the rag Rat had dropped onto the floor when he'd left in an effort to give them some privacy.

It wasn't long after Angela had gotten there that Tara hurried in. Her heart warmed a little at the sight before her. Angela and Juice were literally tangled up in each other, so much so that it was hard to tell where one stopped and the other began. She handed off Abel and Thomas to Phil and Rat before stepping inside the kitchen, clearing her throat to catch their attention. Angela lifted her head up, slowly unwrapping her arms from around Juice's head and neck, but when she went to move away, he held tightly to her shirt, keeping her close. "Hey Doc," he greeted, grimacing slightly as a new wave of pain rushed over him.

Tara noticed the pained look on Angela's face mirrored the one on Juice's; the undertaker was clearly suffering with him. Jax had filled her in on what happened on her way home from the hospital, and she'd brought the appropriate tools to take care of it. "Hey," Tara replied on a small smile. "How are you feeling, Juice?"

" 'm fine," he lied, clenching his teeth to fight back against the pain.

Angela shook her head infinitesimally as she met Tara's gaze, a subtle way of telling her he was not okay. Tara sighed as she set her bag down on the counter and pulling out a syringe and a small bottle. "I got a local anesthetic for you anyways. It'll make it easier for me to stitch you up. Ang, do you mind...exposing the area."

She blinked at her, trying to process what she meant while Juice's fingers dug into her thigh. "Yeah, okay," she said after a minute. She grabbed the pair of scissors Tara was holding out to her. "Juice, baby, ya got to let go so Tara can help you."

He nodded slowly, his doe eyes watching her as she kneeled down next to his leg and started to cut the fabric of his pants. She made one quick cut and pulled at the sides, ripping the rest of it up to the bottom edge of his boxers. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest when she uncovered the entrance wound on the front of his thigh. She swallowed back a comment and looked to Tara. "What now?" she asked, standing up once again, her arm draped over his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her waist, fingers digging into the skin of her hip.

Tara made quick work of injecting the local anesthetic just as Chibs walked through the door. With Chibs' help, they managed to get Juice onto the kitchen table on his back first. The Scot watched as the undertaker moved immediately to her man's side, taking his hand in hers and setting her chin on the table by his head so they were eye to eye. As Chibs helped Tara tend to the wound, he snuck glances at the couple. They were whispering things to each other; every so often the smallest hint of a smile would appear on Juice's face, disappearing as quickly as it appeared. It was quite a feat for her to get him to smile at a time like this, and Chibs was thankful as hell Angela was there to do that, to give Juice strength. After killing Miles, he was going to need it.

When they finished up with the front of his leg, Tara had Juice turn over onto his stomach. Angela moved with him, her hand slipping into his once again as she leaned her forehead against his muscular arm. She watched Tara work in silence, every so often squeezing Juice's hand to reassure him she was there, but Juice was a million miles away. His brown eyes staring unfocused at the kitchen counter that was littered in bloodied gauze. She looked down at their hands and realized they were both bloody as well, though she had no clue how they got that way.

Juice's mind was back in that field in the middle of nowhere replaying what happened with Miles in his head over and over again. The discovery, the struggle, the blood. So much blood, raining down on him, covering him, making him feel sticky and dirty. He'd done his best to wipe it off, asking for a wet cloth as soon as he got to Jax's, but it hadn't done much good. It was everywhere. Covering his arms, Angela's arms, spots of it on her shirt, her jeans. It seemed everywhere he'd touched her, he'd left a bloody print as though he was transferring his guilt onto her. The idea of that made him feel worse than before.

He felt a soft pressure in his hand, pulling him out of his memory. Turning his head to the side, he met her stare and squeezed her hand back. She pressed a discreet kiss to his shoulder, her worry filled eyes never leaving his, and he squeezed her hand harder. Words could not express how thankful he was to have her there. To have her strength to draw from when he was at his weakest.

Tara finished up her job, taking off her gloves with a snap. She stood back, grabbing Angela's arms and pulling her away as Chibs helped Juice stand. "His injuries need to be cleaned and re-dressed every other day," the doctor explained, her eyes on her friend's face. Angela's eyes were still on Juice as Chibs started helping him to the door.

Angela barely heard her. Watching Chibs walk with Juice, she realized Juice was wearing the same clothes from the night before meaning he hadn't come home. Juice was OCD about his clothes; never wearing the same thing twice in a row if it hadn't been washed first. The fact he was still wearing that white tee and grey pants meant she'd spent the night alone and whatever suspicion Happy had was correct. It was another secret she'd have to keep. A secret more important than that of the letters. If Hap found out Juice was guilty, he'd kill him; she didn't doubt that for a second. She'd seen Happy kill for much less.

"Ang?" Tara's voice pulled her from her thoughts.

She shook herself out of her thoughts. "Yeah, got it," she answered, breaking out of her little trance. "Hey, so...Unser paid me a visit today. Thought I had the letters. Seems we have the same brown folder."

"Jesus, Ang."

Angela nodded slowly before smiling sadly. "Guess we're in this together now, huh? Daughters of Disorder and all."

"That's not what I wanted," Tara assured her, seeing right through her attempt at humor. "Ang, I'll talk to Gemma. Tell her you don't have a part in this."

She shook her head, a sad smile still on her face. "Too late for that. Nothin' you can do," she said, patting the doctor's shoulder. "It's all right. We'll make it through just fine. What are they going to do, kill us?"

Tara tried for a smile but found she couldn't pull it off. Oh, how little Angela knew about the ways of the club. Clay wouldn't hesitate to kill them; he'd killed more significant people before. "Yeah. Funny," she said on a flat laugh.

Angela's eyes widened in fear at Tara's response. It was clear the doctor knew something she didn't. "Jesus Christ, T. Do you think we're in danger? Because of these stupid letters?" she asked, shock evident in her voice. "It's just a bunch of writing on paper!"

She shook her head quickly. "No, no. We'll be fine. Promise," she assured her, though she wasn't quite sure of that statement. "Just...focus on taking care of Juice for right now."

Angela nodded, shoving her shaking hands in her pockets as she walked with her friend to the door. "Always do," she said, trying not to let the fact her life might be in danger because of some stupid letters get to her.

"And...take care of yourself," she added on, a concerned look in her eyes. "Don't let this club bullshit get to you. Like you said, we'll make it through."

"Hope so," Angela replied heading down the walk and towards the truck. Chibs held open the door for her, allowing her to slip into the middle before climbing in himself.

Juice was sitting slumped against the seat, his eyes focused on the window as they pulled away from the small house. She hooked her pinky around his, and he laced his fingers between hers, his eyes still on the window.

Once they pulled into the drive, Chibs helped Juice out of the truck, letting Angela go before them to open up the door. The two men headed into the bedroom while Angela went to the kitchen. Opening up the drawers and cabinets, she found what she was looking for and started in on her task.

Chibs was surprised when he walked into the kitchen to find Angela rolling a joint. He gave her a small smile, clapping her on the shoulder. "What ye got there, Angie-girl?" he teased, leaning his back against the counter next to her. "Thought the doctor gave him somethin' for the pain."

"Not all pain is physical," she replied softly.

His gloved hands covered hers, pulling her attention from the joint and to his face. "He needs you for tha', love. Not this shit."

Angela put down the joint, her shoulders sagging slightly. "What happened, Chibs?"

"Not my place to say. Ask him," he said, clapping her on the shoulder. "Yer a good girl, Angie. Juicy-boy's lucky to have ye."

"Thanks," she said, giving him a small smile.

Chibs squeezed her shoulder before kissing her temple softly. "Take care of 'im, Angie. He needs you," he repeated before he headed out the front door.

Angela slowly walked into their room to find Juice sitting up; his back against their headboard, head tilted back, eyes closed. She sat down on the edge of the bed by his hip so she was facing him. He opened his eyes, the look in them sending a chill down her spine. He looked completely broken to the point of just being numb. "Killed a man today," he stated, his voice cracking as spoke. He took her hand in his, his eyes on her fingers as he played with them. "A brother," he corrected with a shake of his head. "Miles."

She was silent as she waited for him to finish his story. "I caught him with a stolen key of coke," he explained, the necessary lie leaving a bad taste in his mouth. "He pulled his gun on me. We fought. I shot him to keep him from killing me."

She reached out a hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks, tears he hadn't realized he'd shed. "You were protecting yourself, Juice," she stated as his eyes met hers. "Protecting yourself and the club. Who knew what he was going to do with that blow?"

Juice shook his head slowly. "He was my brother, Angel. I killed my own brother. How is that okay?"

"Because it was for your club, your family," she explained. At his doubtful look, she sighed. "My cousin has this tattoo that says, 'I live. I die. I kill. For my family.' That's what you did today, Juice. It was a shitty situation, but you did what you had to do to protect the things you love. That doesn't make you a bad guy; it makes you a strong one, a loyal one. The guy that I love."

His eyes widened as he realized what she'd just said. It wasn't the traditional three words but the meaning was the same. He saw a flicker of fear traipse across her face as she looked down at their hands, a small blush rising to her cheeks as though she was a little ashamed she'd said it first. He took her face in his hands, lifting it so their eyes could meet. "I love you too, Angel," he said, his voice sounding rough even to his own ears as he pulled her in for a kiss. "So much."

He felt her lean into him as he deepened the kiss, and in that moment, he forgot about the whole mess he'd gotten himself into. All he could think about was the girl who loved him. The girl he loved back. And at that moment, she was all that mattered.