Mel sat at the dirty old bar, a tequila tonic sitting in front of him. He'd been there since he'd left his brother's grave earlier that morning. He'd lost count of how many drinks he'd had, but he knew his tab was getting up there. It didn't matter to him, though; he had more than enough money to foot the bill. He took out the manila envelope Tig had given him from his brother. There hadn't been much in there. A handwritten letter, some pictures, the numbers to his bank accounts, and his will. Not surprisingly, his big brother had left him everything, including his motorcycle. Mel was considering keeping it, learning to ride. Maybe it would make Angela like him better.

He was staring at one picture in particular. One he couldn't get out of his mind. It was the three of them laid out on the beach. Her head was on his stomach, his brother's head on hers. All three of them smiling and happy. One of Angela's friends had taken the picture because Happy had refused to. Hell, Happy had refused to do anything but lay out in the sun, drink beer, and toss around the ball with Koz. The only time he went in the water was to throw Angela in because she mouthed off to him.

"Beautiful girl there," the man next to him commented. "She yours?"

"Should be," Mel murmured, too drunk to be bothered by the man looking over his shoulder.

The man chuckled, slapping him on the back. "The one that got away, huh? We all got one," he said as he sat down next to him. "Get this man another of whatever he's got and one for me too. So what's the story?"

"She moved here. Fell for a fuckin' Son," he explained, glancing at the semi-bald man at his side. The side of the man's face was covered in a grotesque burn giving him an evil villain look. "He knocked her up, and they're going to live happily ever after while I sit here and rot in fuckin' Sacramento. But she's happy so I guess I just have to live with it."

"Ain't any of those Old Ladies happy," the stranger said on a chuckle before tossing back his whiskey. "Not really."

Mel shrugged a shoulder. "Nothin' I can do about it."

"Want to know what I'd do? I'd get her the hell out of here. Whatever it took. It's for her own good. Old ladies get killed all the time. One got gunned down a few years ago, shot up gang style. Another was beaten to death a few months after. Just a few days ago, one was almost abducted. Something has happened to every one of them. Yours might be next. If you gotta drag her outta here kickin' and screamin', do it. It's for her own good."

He considered the idea for a moment: going into her house, grabbing her, and forcing her out of town. It was a crazy notion. If her idiot was there, it was sure to get him killed, and even if he wasn't, Angela would never stand for it. She'd fight him tooth and nail, and he'd lose his nerve. One hit or slap from her, he'd back down. He couldn't do that to her. "I'm not that type of guy."

The man dug around in his pocket producing a small baggie of white powder. "This can make you that type of guy," he said, pushing the baggie towards him. "Go 'head. 's on me. Not a big fan of the Sons myself. Assholes have taken a lot from me. I'd be happy to save someone from them."

Before Mel could give the baggie back, the man was gone leaving behind only his empty glass and a few bucks. He picked up the small bag, considering it for a brief moment. No, he couldn't. After watching his older brother go through the ups and downs of a serious addiction, Mel had decided never to try them. He'd never even smoked pot. He knew what drugs like this did to your system. The long list of psychological effects included delusions of grandeur, invincibility, an increase in self confidence as well as obsessive behavior. He had no doubt with this in his system; he'd have the balls to pull Angela out of this life no matter how hard she protested.

But was it worth it? She'd hate him for sure...but for how long? Once she got over the initial shock, she'd probably get used to the idea. He'd take her some place warm, close to the beach where they could lay out in the sun all day. It'd be a good place to raise a child. He wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize that kid. That was a loss he knew Angela would never come back from. He could see her accepting the idea of leaving Charming as long as her baby was not at all affected. Truth be told, he could live with that. He'd told her as much already. He loved kids, always had. If the child looked anything like its mother, Mel didn't think he'd have a problem loving it like it was his own.

He played with the baggie, rubbing his thumb over it. This was something he couldn't go back from. Once his plan was put into motion, it would only end in two ways. Either he won the girl, or they'd kill him. He had no doubt the idiot with those dumb lightning bolt tattoos on his head would kill him for kidnapping his pregnant old lady. If he didn't, her crazy cousin would.

"Fuck it," he muttered to himself, putting the little baggie into his pocket. She was well worth the risk. He was going to be with her or die trying.

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

Juice sat at the edge of the bed staring at his file once again. He looked at the smiling man in the picture wondering who he was, what he was doing now, if he even remembered he had a son. He vowed he would never be this man. His child was going to know him from more than just a picture in a file. He felt the bed shift before Angela's warm arms slid around him one draped over his shoulder, the other around his waist, her sweet scent invading his senses. He relaxed into her embrace as she set her chin on his shoulder. He turned his head to press a kiss to her cheek before looking back at the picture in his lap.

"I found him once," Juice told her, his fingers swiping over the face in the picture. "Hacked into his files and went to the diner he was working at. I sat there for hours watching him joke around with the other chefs, smiling and laughing like he was the happiest guy in the world. All the while I was wondering if he even knew I existed. If he even cared. I went to the diner everyday for a week and couldn't work up the nerve to talk to him. I didn't know what to say or if he'd even believe me if I told him. Then one night, he came around the counter for his break. Tried to talk to me. Called me son and I froze for a minute because I thought he knew. Turns out, he was just using it as a nickname."

He laughed lightly and shook his head. "I told him I wasn't his son and left. I never went back there again. I couldn't handle it." Carefully, he pulled the picture out from underneath the paperclip, studying once more before turning his head to look at Angela, a determined glint to his eyes. "I'm not going to be him, Angel," he said, his voice filled with promise. "I swear to God, I'm going to be there for this kid."

"I know. I never doubted that," she agreed, pressing a kiss to his shoulder before moving so she was sitting next to him on edge of the bed. She took his face in her hands, leaning in to softly kiss his lips. "You're a good man, Juice," she murmured, her thumbs ghosting over his cheeks. "I love you."

Juice nodded, catching her lips in another quick kiss before turning back to the file. He set the picture aside gingerly before taking either side of the folder and ripping it in half, straight down the middle. Slowly, he stood, handing her the ripped file then grabbing his cut off the bed. He looked at it for a moment, considering the Reaper on the back before glancing at Angela. This was his family. This was his life. He'd made some mistakes, but in the end, it'd all worked out. He still had his club and still had his girl. "Love you," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being. She gave him a soft smile in return as he pressed his lips to hers in one last quick kiss. "I'll be home soon."

"Love you too, Juice," she replied as he turned away. "Ride safe."

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

As soon as she heard the door close behind Juice, Angela flipped open his laptop, determined to find a good weekend getaway. He'd long since told her the password, a long combination of words and numbers she'd yet to make any sense of. She recognized her birthday and his birthday in there, but the rest was just random code. Why anyone needed such a long password was beyond her, but she was willing to bet at least part of the reason he'd gotten caught and sent to jail before was because someone had figured out his password.

She smiled at the background picture. He was constantly changing it, but at the moment, it was of her lying stretched out on his motorcycle in her silver bikini. A shot he'd insisted on taking as soon as he discovered the bikini existed. She wasn't a big fan of the picture as it was incredibly staged and made her feel like a porn star. She took a brief minute to take a picture of her sticking her tongue out on the built in camera and set that as his wallpaper. He did the same to her cell phone whenever she had a shirtless picture of him as her background, which was often; her man had a beautiful body.

She took a few more for fun, playing with the different filters and effects trying to find the one that made her look the silliest. She was just posing for a particularly good one with the mirror effect when the doorbell rang. Laughing at herself, she took the picture then leaned over, grabbing her gun before heading to the door.

Standing on her toes, she looked through the peephole and was surprised to find Mel standing on the other side. She set her gun down on the side table and opened the door. "Hey Melly," she greeted, smiling up at him. "What's going on?"

Mel scratched at the back of his neck, his eyes sweeping over the house as he shifted nervously. "Your old man here?"

There was a strange energy about him that put her on edge. "No. He's at the clubhouse," she answered, catching a whiff of him as he walked by. It smelled like he had been bathing in alcohol. "Are you drunk?"

"So you're alone?" he asked, ignoring her question as he started pace.

She was starting to wish she hadn't told him Juice wasn't home. Something was wrong, she could feel it in her bones. "Yeah. Why?"

"I'm getting you out of here," Mel said, turning to her, a wild look in his eyes.

For the first time, she was able to meet his eyes properly. They were almost entirely black, nothing left of their pretty color save for a small rim of blue that was barely visible. She knew that look, knew it from the many times she'd seen his brother in a similar state. "Jesus Christ, Mel. Are you high?"

"This place is unsafe, Geela. I'm going to save you before you get hurt or worse," he explained quickly, ignoring her question as he grabbed her hands. She was going to listen to him, he could feel it. They were going to have their happy ending. "I've been thinking it over for awhile, and if we leave now, they won't be able to find us. You'll be free. We can raise this baby together, Geela. You and me together. Forever."

Angela pulled her hands from his grasp and gently pushed him away, trying to put as much space between them as possible. She knew she had to choose her words wisely now. He was high as hell and likely to be unstable. "I'm fine, Mel. Really. This is where I want to be. I want this life. I chose it."

"No, no, you don't know what you want," he said shaking his head quickly. He grabbed her arms again, his grip a little harder than was necessary. There was a dangerous look in his eyes that scared her. "We are meant to be, Angela. You know that. Its always been you and me. We're going to be good. Just the two of us and the baby. I'll love it, I swear. I'll treat it right. I'll be the best father. The father it deserves!"

She swallowed hard, torn between wanting to smack him and wanting to call Juice or Happy to get him the hell out of there. The boys were in Church, though, so neither of them would answer their phones even if she tried. She was going to have to handle this one all by herself. "Let it go, Mel. It's not going to happen."

"I'm not letting shit go!" he shouted, shaking her. "You've been brainwashed into wanting this life because of your dumbass cousin. I can give you everything you deserve! Don't you understand that? Can't you see it?"

Now, she was scared. Mel had never, ever laid hands on her like that. He was gentle by nature, but she'd seen his dark side once or twice when he was really angry. Had seen him beat a guy's face in while drunk during a bar fight just because he'd said some stupid comment. As docile as Mel was sober, he had an angry streak a mile wide when intoxicated. She had no idea what he would do while under the influence of something stronger. "I understand," she said, trying to keep her cool, "but it's not what I want, Mel. I'm happy here, can't you see that?"

Mel shook his head once more. He wasn't going to believe that. She was lying. There was no way she could be happy here without him. They were meant to be; two halves of a whole. She didn't know what she was talking about. "No, no, you're not. You don't know what happiness is," he insisted. "I'm going to take you away and show you what it really means to be happy."

"No, you're not. You need to get off me," she said carefully prying her arms from his grasp. He let her go looking as though he'd been slapped. Good, she thought. Better that he feel like she slapped him without her having to actually slap him. "I think you should go home, Mel."

"Right, right. I'll go," he turned as if to go but stopped once his eyes fell on the table by the door. He spotted the Glock just sitting there right by her car keys. It was fate. He was meant to do this. There was no other reason for the gun to be so perfectly placed. It was as if someone was telling him to use it, to force her to go with him. He picked it up, its weight feeling just right in his palm. Turning, he leveled it at her head. "But you're coming with me."

Angela swallowed hard, fear coursing through her veins. She tried her best to remain calm as she stared down the barrel of her own gun, her hands raised ever so slightly in the air. This wasn't the first time she'd had a gun in her face, but it was still shocking nonetheless, especially considering who was on the other side of it. If he was so out of his head that he'd threaten her with a gun, there was no reason that he wouldn't pull the trigger. The Mel she knew and loved was gone, and though this Mel wanted the same things, he was dangerous. "Mel, put it down. You don't want to do this," she stated, hating the way her voice shook. "This isn't you."

"No, it isn't. But you like these type of guys, don't you, Angela? The dangerous ones. The ones that can get you killed. If that's what you like then that's what I'll be. I'm not living without you, Gee. I won't do it," he said, cocking the gun with an audible click, "and if I can't have you, no one can."

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

"How is she?" Happy asked Juice as they walked towards their bikes together.

Juice had stopped asking him whom he was referring to a long time ago. He knew better now. "She's doin' better, I guess. Was really upset no one showed up to Koz's thing. Cried a little about that," he explained honestly. At Happy's surprised look, he shrugged. "Hormones. She cries a lot easier now but not about stupid shit. She's always got a reason for it. Mostly it's just Koz stuff. Little things remind her of him, and she'll tear up."

"You handling it?"

" 'course," he answered on a nod. "Been tryin' to get her to take some vitamins too. Thinking of asking for some time off to get her out of here. Relax, you know? I think it'd do her some good."

Happy nodded in silent agreement. He was always impressed by how in tune Juice seemed to be with Angela's needs. Sometimes, he got mad at the idiot for his different decisions, but in the end, they'd been exactly what Angela needed. "You got plans tonight?"

"Not really," Juice replied, only half lying. His plans with Angela were not something he liked to discuss with Happy. He was pretty sure most of them would get him killed. "You should stop by. Explain the Koz thing to her. I tried, but I think it'd mean more comin' from you."

"Yeah," he agreed, swinging his leg over his Dyna. "I'll follow you over."

Juice nodded, starting up his own motorcycle and pulling out of the lot. As he pulled into the driveway, he was surprised to see all the lights on, the front door hanging wide open. His heart rose to his throat as he hastily turned off his engine. Angela didn't leave the door open like that, especially not with all the cartel shit going on. Nor did she ever leave the house with the lights on. "No," he breathed, his helmet falling to the ground as he sprinted towards the door. The living room looked the way he'd left it. "Angel!" he shouted, panic racing through his veins as he practically ran down the hall to their bedroom.

Her drawers were all open, clothes spilling out of them onto the floor as if she'd gone through them in a hurry. Had she left him? Why would she leave him now? It didn't make sense! They were good! She'd told him to come home safely! Why would she do that and then leave? "Shit! Shit, Hap! Did she leave? Did she say anything to you? I don't..."

Happy stepped around him, walking through the mess and heading to her bedside table. While Juice was panicking, he was taking stock of everything around the room. He opened the drawer he knew she kept her Glock in. It was empty save for a bag of cough drops, a pregnancy book, and a box of her birth control. Fat load of good that had done her. "Gun's gone," he commented, shutting the drawer. At Juice's panicked look, he shook his head. As much as he wished that whatever had happened to his little cousin was as easy and safe as her taking off on her man, he knew it wasn't. All the signs pointed to something else, something more dangerous. "The Mazda's still in the garage. Kid wouldn't leave without that car."

Juice nodded, exhaling a shaky breath. Angela loved her car. If she was going to leave, she sure as hell would take it with her. He thought back to the day Tara had first gotten the death threat in the car. Angela had admitted she'd gotten one too. He'd forgotten all about it after the whole mess he'd been in with Roosevelt. Was this the cartel making good on their threat? "The cartel," he said, running a hand over his hair. "Hap, what if it's the Lobos like Tara?"

Happy's dark eyes looked over the room again as he shook his head. There was no way. The room was too neat for that. The living room in even better condition. There were no broken windows and the door had been intact when they'd walked in. If someone had taken Angela, it was someone she knew and that was impossible. "No blood. No bullets. If the cartel came after her, she'd put up a hell of a fight. Shit'd be broken," he explained. "She probably went for a run. Forgot to close the door all the way or some shit."

"Went for a run with her gun?" he asked, a doubtful look on his face.

"Shit that happened to Tara and Koz...can you blame her?"

Juice shook his head; Happy had a point. Quickly, he squatted down looking under the bed where he'd last seen her running shoes. They were still where she'd left them, kicked haphazardly on her side. "Her shoes are here," he said lifting his head up and looking at the laptop sitting on the bed. That's when he saw it. The light of the camera was lit up, the screen showing the backboard of the bed, little white numbers ticking by seconds. He rushed over to it, stopping the recording. It'd be running for just a little over an hour. "She left the camera on."

"What?" Happy questioned looking over Juice's shoulder.

He was quickly going through the memory, watching as picture after picture of Angela popped onto the screen. Each more ridiculous than the last. "She was taking pictures of herself and must've hit the record button by accident. She does it all the time," he explained, queuing up the video. He didn't explain that sometimes she did it on purpose to record a little strip tease for him so he could watch them on their longer runs. He was pretty sure Happy would skin him alive if he saw those. "Check it out."

The video started with Angela pulling a face before laughing at herself. Someone must've knocked on the door because she hopped off the bed, grabbing her gun before she was off camera. "Good girl," Happy commented, nodding his head in approval.

Muffled voices were barely registered on the video, but it was clear some type of heated discussion was going on between Angela and whoever had been at the door. Juice wondered briefly if it'd been Roosevelt. The Sheriff had been awfully curious about their relationship. Perhaps, he'd gone over to tell her to stay away. Whatever the case, it was obvious she'd known the person well enough to let him in.

A minute later and the sound of her opening drawers came over the camera. "Pack a bag. Make it look like you're running," a male voice ordered. Juice couldn't place it, but it was obvious Happy could. The Tacoma Killer's jaw had clenched after the first word, his whole body going rigid.

"They won't buy it, Mel," she said, revealing the man's identity. Juice felt his heartbeat kick up a notch. Mel wasn't a small guy by any means. He'd seen them standing together. Mel towered over her easily. "You don't have to do this. I swear if you leave now, I won't tell them. I won't say a word."

"Not without you," he said, his voice practically a growl. "This is for your own good, Gee."

Then she came into view, as she went to grab something out of her dresser drawer. Juice could see her hands shaking as she picked up a book she kept in there, discreetly taking her knife and phone along with it and shoving them deep into the bag in her hand. Then her eyes landed on screen. It was obvious she knew it was recording by the hopeful look that swept across her face. "Mel, put the gun down, please," she said, clearly trying to convey the situation as discreetly as possible. "Taking me by force is only going to land you straight in jail or worse..."

"You think I don't know that? You think I don't know that your stupid ass old man and psycho cousin will come after us?" Mel answered and for the first time, he came into view. Angela's gun in his hand, pointed straight at her forehead. She dropped the bag in her hand, holding up her hands as he backed her into the wall. He moved the gun down the side of her face in a caress as his other hand held tightly to her chin. "But that's okay, Gee. We'll be fine. We'll go home. Start our own little family where you'll be safe."

"Home?" she breathed, her hands clenched into tight fists as if she was fighting against the urge to push him away.

Mel nodded, smirking a bit. "That's right, baby. We're going to make a home," he said pressing his lips to hers despite her best attempt to turn away. His hand settled on her belly. "A family. You, me, and the baby."

Juice saw red as he watched Mel touch his girl, talk about his family. He started to pace, his mind racing as he thought of the best way to track them down. The rest of the video was filled with Angela doing her best to stall him. Drawing out time so they could get there. Why hadn't he hurried home? He didn't need to have a beer with his brothers, didn't need to shoot the shit with Chibs. If he'd only come home, he could've stopped Mel, could've killed him before the asshole had a chance to even think about taking her anywhere.

Happy kept his eyes glued to the screen. Proud as hell of his little cousin for the way she was trying to stall him. The steady manner in which she was attempting to talk him down. All the training he'd given her was paying off. He knew she didn't engage in any defensive moves out of fear that his retaliation might hurt the baby. He did, after all, have a gun to her head and while they'd gone through this scenario before, it always ended up with her getting somewhat hurt. Happy had prepared her for that. A gunshot wound to the torso, arm, leg was survivable, and he'd taught her jump for the gun but make sure to push the shooter's arm down first. In this situation, pushing the shooter's arm down would mean the gun would be leveled at her stomach, and he knew she wasn't about to put her baby's life in danger.

He watched as Mel ordered Angela to keep packing. The guy was a total rookie at the whole kidnapping thing. Obviously he hadn't thought it through very well. Making her take the time to pack was risky and unnecessary, but Happy was glad the blonde idiot didn't know any better. It meant they hadn't gotten far. Then Mel reached into the bedside table drawer and picked up a pair of handcuffs, pocketing them as quickly as he could. "Why the fuck do you have handcuffs?" he growled at Juice in frustration. If Mel used them, they'd be just another obstacle for her to overcome. She didn't have time for that.

Juice stopped pacing again, his eyes going wide. He and Angela had constantly teased each other about handcuffing one another to the bed. One night, Angela had surprised him with the silver cuffs and had done just that. They'd only used them a few times, though; after being in jail for fourteen months, handcuffs really didn't turn him on like they used to. "I...we...just for...you know...I mean...," he stammered out, nervous under Happy's intense glare. "You don't think he's going to hurt her, do you?"

Happy was glad for the subject change. His question to Juice had been rhetorical. He wasn't an idiot; he knew why his little cousin kept handcuffs in her bedside table. In fact, this wasn't the first time he'd seen a pair of them get pulled out of one of her drawers. He himself had used her last pair to handcuff her to the door of the moving van when he and Kozik had taken her from Oakland to Tacoma. "No. Didn't think he'd do anythin' like this either though," he answered, gesturing to the laptop. He knew his cousin was probably thinking the same thing. The way she was looking at her former friend told him Mel was most likely in an altered state, unpredictable. Angela was making all the right moves to protect herself and her child. "I'ma put a call into Jax see if we can get back up. You got a way to track her?"

Juice nodded, going back to the computer and raking his fingers over the keys. "Her phone."

"You bugged her phone?" Happy questioned, a mixture of anger and astonishment in his voice. Though he was upset at the invasion of his cousin's privacy, he had to hand it to the guy, it was a smart idea. After she got kidnapped with Tara while they were in Ireland, he couldn't blame Juice for doing it. In fact, Happy couldn't believe he'd never thought of it. "She know?"

"Maybe," he answered distractedly. He'd bought her the latest iPhone as a gift for her birthday and had hacked his way into it to put in a tracking device before he'd given it to her. There was too much danger in their life for him not to have a way to find her if he needed, and he knew his Old Lady; she didn't go far without her phone. A feeling of relief rushed through him when he saw the little radar map show exactly where they were. "They're heading towards the ninety nine. North."

Happy nodded, finishing up his phone call to Jax. "Guys are on their way. Phil's gonna watch the tracker, but I got an idea of where he's goin'," he said heading towards the front door. The sound of motorcycle engines filled the living room when he opened the door. Happy took one of his guns out of its holster underneath his cut. He loaded a bullet into the chamber of one before doing the same to the one on the other side.

Juice did the same to the gun he had hidden under his cut. If he saw Mel, he was going to shoot him. Right between those pretty blue eyes. He didn't give a shit that he was Kozik's brother. No one messed with his family and lived.