The pain was blinding. Angela understood now what Juice had been feeling the night he got shot. It felt like her calf was on fire. She gritted her teeth together, trying to keep from crying out, but it was hard as hell. "Shit," she gasped, breathing heavily, tears of pain leaking down her face. "Mel, you need to take me to the hospital. Please."

Mel was too busy trying to focus on driving while holding his balled up shirt to his nose to think about what she was saying. His nose was broken, he could feel it. He'd gotten way too close to her when he'd tried to swipe the phone out of her hands and clipped her face instead. Her response had been to ram the heel of her palm up into his nose before jetting out of there. He'd never seen anyone run so fast. Her speed paired with the blood gushing from his nose brought him to drastic measures, and he'd done the only thing he could think of to get her to stop. He'd shot her.

He considered her request for a brief moment. He could set his nose by himself, and he had his medical bag to tend to her wound, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't let him anywhere near it. Blood was still oozing out of it, soaking her pant leg. "Elevate it and apply pressure. I'll stitch it up soon as we find a place to stay."

"Like hell you will," she grunted, shifting to put her ankle up on the dash and ripping the bottom of her yoga pants off where the bullet hole was to better expose the wound. She tied the bottom part of the pant leg around it loosely to act as a sort of bandage before grabbing an extra shirt from her bag as best she could while still cuffed, making sure to tuck her knife into the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Balling up the shirt, she pressed it to her wound, clenching her jaw to keep from gasping in pain.

"Fine. Tourniquet it and then I'll cut it off later. That what you want? You can walk around like a pirate for all I care," he said, slamming his hand down in frustration. "Peg leg and all!"

"Maybe then you'll let me go," she muttered, glaring at him. "Or I could beat you with it."

Mel glared right back at her. He was surprised by how well she was dealing with the pain. When he shot her, he figured she'd be a crying, terrified mess and turn to him for help, but she wasn't. In fact, she'd even tried to stand back up on her own and had vehemently resisted the attempts he made to carry her. He'd known Angela was stubborn but that was ridiculous and had cost her more blood than she really needed to lose. She was looking pale, too pale in his opinion. "You lost a lot of blood, Gee," he pointed out, watching as her eyes drooped closed. "You look pale."

"Fuck you," she bit out, pressing her sweatshirt harder into her wound. "You're the one that shot me."

"Let me fix it. Losing so much blood could be dangerous for the baby."

Angela was starting to feel dizzy. Despite how much she loathed the man sitting next to her, a part of her knew he was right. She gave in with a nod, raking a bloodied hand through her hair. Her braid had long since stopped being neat, so she pulled it out, more for something to do than anything else. The more she focused on the pain surging through her leg, the more she felt like crying, and she'd be damned if she broke down in front of Mel. She took in a deep breath, inhaling the faint scent of Kozik's cologne coming from the sweatshirt. It relaxed her slightly, reassured her that she could make it through this pain. She just had to focus on the endgame. Getting free. Getting home.

"I always liked your hair pulled back. The bun with the pens is my favorite," he commented trying for a normal conversation as he watched her play with her hair.

She looked at him like he'd gone mentally insane, which, she decided, he had. That was the only way she could describe what he'd done, what he was doing. "Oh yeah?" she asked, feigning interest. She let go of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. There was no way in hell she'd oblige him with doing her hair the way he liked it. "Well, fuck you."

He winced at her words. It drove him nuts when she swore. The act was so unladylike and beneath her. She was too smart a woman to stoop to using foul language like that. "Would you quit it with the language?"

A triumphant smirk turned up the corners of her lips. "Fuck you, motherfucker," she stated, emphasizing each swear word. "You fucking kidnapped me, dumbass. You think I'm gonna cooperate with you? Fuck no."

Mel tightened his grip on the steering wheel to keep his fist from lashing out to smack her again. He'd hit her the first time on accident when he'd caught her in the bathroom and tried to take her phone. His hand had swatted her hard across the face, splitting her lip in the process; he didn't know his own strength. "I'm doing this for your own good," he said through gritted teeth.

"Is that why you shot me?" she shot back, anger clear in her words. "For my own good? Is that what you're going to tell them when they cart you off to jail? Sorry I shot her officer, but it was for her own good. Dumbass"

"What officer, Geela?" he asked on a condescending laugh. "You had your chance to call someone and you called that dumbass idiot and his gang instead of the authorities. Don't call me dumb when you made the dumbest mistake of all."

Angela clenched her fingers into tight fists. She'd been so desperate to talk to Juice; she hadn't even considered calling the police. Since she got in the car, she'd been thinking of all Mel's dumb moves, but she'd overlooked her own. "He's going to find me, Mel. He promised he would," she said, her voice full of conviction. "And when he does, you're going to regret this whole thing."

"When he does, I'll shoot him," Mel said on a chuckle. "Right between those stupid tattoos. We'll see how well he keeps his promise then."

"Fuck you." Her breath caught in her throat as the vivid image of Mel shooting Juice flashed through her mind. She'd never taken into consideration how dangerous Mel could be with a gun. Kozik had trained him just as Happy had trained her. He was a good shot too. The shot to her calf had been no accident. He knew where to aim to hurt her enough to stop her from leaving but not enough to put her in critical condition. Now he was threatening Juice's life. The idea alone made it hard for her to breathe.

She tried her best to remain calm, to breathe; all the while anger flowed through her veins like lava. There was no way in hell she would let Mel take Juice away from her. She'd do anything she could to protect him. If that meant killing Mel herself, so be it.

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

Mel glanced over at Angela as he pulled off the main road and onto a dirt road. She was either sleeping or had finally given into the pain. She'd sat there biting her lip, her hands clenched into white knuckled fists as she fought against the pain. Every so often, an involuntary gasp would escape her hold, but it'd been a few minutes since he'd last heard her. Thankfully, her face had regained some of its color while she rested meaning her blood levels were slowly returning to normal. Though the bleeding had finally stopped, it had taken longer than Mel would've liked but Angela had refused to let him help her apply pressure. Glancing at the floor, he saw a puddle of blood underneath her leg. Luckily her pregnant state meant she had more blood pumping through her veins than usual or else he'd be seriously worried. He pulled the car around the back of the large, ranch style house making sure it wasn't visible from the front before throwing it into park.

He'd planned to buy the house for them to live in but had been crushed to find it was out of his price range. Still, his photographic memory had made it easy to remember the lockbox code the realtor had plugged in to open the door. After he got it open, he headed back to the car and carefully uncuffed Angela, doing his best not to wake her. He lifted her out of the backseat, carrying her towards the guest house instead of the main entry way. If someone came down to track them and swept the house, they would find it empty and hopefully move on to look somewhere else never knowing they were back in the guest house.

Opening the door, he walked back towards the bedroom, laying her down on the large bed. Her tan skin seemed to glow against the cream colored sheets. She'd ripped off the right leg of her yoga pants to be able to apply pressure to the wound. The sweatshirt, Kozik's sweatshirt, had slipped down her left shoulder giving her an awkward, uneven look. Her left cheek was bruised from where he'd hit her, her lip puffy and bloody.

Her sweatshirt was open; to show the v-neck undershirt she was wearing underneath. It wasn't hers, that he was sure of. It was much too big for her. It had to be that idiot's and that was unacceptable. He grabbed the scissors from his first aid kit, carefully cutting up the front of the shirt and moving the sweatshirt back to cut off the sleeves, determined not to damage Kozik's sweatshirt. Carefully, he pulled away the white fabric revealing a very lacy, incredibly sexy leopard print bra. A bra he liked to think she'd worn for him but knew it'd been for the idiot.

Anger surged through him; the thought that she'd worn something like that for another man disgusted him. He ran a finger over one of the cups, the lace soft underneath his fingertip. The delicate fabric was slightly torn on top, the fibers holding one of the designs together ripped through. Someone had been too rough with it. Too rough with her. Another thought that had his blood boiling.

She stirred a bit at the feel of a hand on her breast. For a minute, she forgot where she was, who she was with. Juice often fell asleep with his hand there, his face pressed against her neck. She opened her eyes, awaking with a jolt when she realized it wasn't Juice at all. "Jesus Christ, Mel!" she exclaimed backing away from him until her back hit the headboard. "Where the fuck are we?"

"Just takin' a rest," he answered on a sigh. "Wanted to check your injury."

His eyes were back to normal, the crazed look gone. He was sober now, a fact that only made her more nervous. He should be flipping out, stressing over what he'd done, but he was cool as a cucumber. In fact, he looked pissed and a little turned on. Fear blossomed in her stomach; those two emotions were never good when mixed.

She was surprised to find he'd cut her shirt without her noticing. How long had she been out? How long had he been staring at her like that? When had he cut off her shirt? Had he done more? She looked down at her pants, relieved to see they were still on and intact. "Mel, why don't you just let me go?" she asked on a sigh. "Please?"

Mel shook his head, slowly. If he let her go, there was no doubt in his mind Happy would come after him and kill him. He'd sealed that fate when he'd shot her. There was only one way for him to survive now, and it was getting Angela back on her feet so they could start their new life together. "Can't turn back now," he said, moving closer to her in a way that made her nervous.

"Yes you can!" she insisted, setting a hand on his shoulder and trying to push him away. "Please, Mel. I'll tell the boys we went for a drive. That we...we wanted to clear our heads or something. I'll make it okay, I promise."

"I love you so much, Gee," he said, his blue eyes filling with tears. "You're all I got left. I can't lose you. I can't."

Angela let out a shaky breath, moving a hand to his cheek in an effort to keep his face away from hers by pushing it away. "I know, Melly. I know," she whispered, stroking her thumbs over his cheek and catching his tears. "But this isn't right. We can be friends, Mel. You're not going to lose me."

He shook his head. "I can't be just friends anymore. It hurts too much. I want you. I want this."

"I don't, Mel," she insisted feeling desperate. He had to understand. He had to see it wasn't going to work. "I don't want you."

She saw the anger pass over his face again, felt it as his hand shot out, grabbing her around the neck. The force of the move sent her head crashing against the headboard, hard enough for her to see stars. "You don't want me? That's bullshit!" he seethed, squeezing at her throat. "You wanted me before! Back in Tacoma! You wanted this. You think he makes you happy? That he pleases you? You just haven't seen what I can give you!"

Angela struggled against him, clawing at his hand while trying to kick out with her uninjured leg. He moved a knee between her legs, using his own weight to keep her from fighting as he used the hand that wasn't holding her neck to yank down her pants, his knuckles digging into her lower stomach reminding her of what she had to protect. A new wave of strength flowed through her, bringing with it the sense of clarity and calm she needed to work out a plan to get out.

She could see the butt of her gun peeking out of the back of his pants as he leaned forward to smash his lips to hers. She bit down on his lip as hard as she could, startling him and giving her enough time to grab the gun. Using her good leg, she placed it flat against his chest, kicking him off her. He fell to the floor in surprise and, in seconds, she had the gun pointed at his head. He stared up at her in pure shock. A triumphant smirk turned up the corners of her lips, her dark eyes alight with an angry black fire as she leveled the gun at his head.

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

Juice looked up at the large ranch style house, his heart pounding in his chest. She was there, he could feel it. The outside was dark, but the door was still unlocked meaning someone had been there recently. He opened it, all the while holding his gun in front of him. Chibs was at his back, Happy at his side.

"Place is empty," Tig said, looking around. "Maybe they dumped the car and left."

Juice shook his head. There was no way in hell he was going to leave. Not until the searched every inch of the house. "No, she's here. I know it."

Happy knew better than to dismiss Juice's feeling. He always followed his gut when it came to situations like this, and right now, it was telling him the idiot was right. "Mel ain't that smart," he said glancing at the back door.

"You two search the floor, we'll head out back," Tig suggested, his eyes on Happy who was already gravitating towards the glass door. "You find him, you wait for us."

"Bullshit. I find him, he's done," Juice ground out, his grip around his gun tightening. "I'm not waiting for shit."

Happy turned to glare at him. "Ain't your call."

"She is my girl," he shot back taking a step towards him, his eyes fiercely angry. "Should be making you wait for me."

"Like to see you try," Happy growled in response. Juice may be the man who'd gotten his little cousin pregnant, but he didn't own her. He hadn't been there to see her first steps, patch up her skinned knees, and teach her how to defend herself. That'd been all him. That was his little girl who'd been captured and hurt and he'd be damned if he let someone else take care of the asshole who hurt her.

Chibs fought the urge to roll his eyes. Not this again. The more time the two spent arguing over who should kill Mel, the more time they were giving the asshole to do something worse. He stepped in between them again. " 'ey, cut it out! Yer wastin' time fightin'! We gotta find her 'fore anythin' else happens," he exclaimed, grabbing Juice's shoulder and pushing him back. "Let's go Juicy-boy. You 'n' me. They've got ta be somewhere in this fuckin' house."

Tig waited for Juice and Chibs to disappear before approaching the Tacoma killer. He was slightly amused by the whole power play between Juice and Happy. He'd never have though the idiot had it in him to go up against Hap. "You want this kill, yeah?"

"Kid was mine first. I don't give a shit what that idiot thinks," he explained on a nod. He loved her first, and he was going to do his duty and make sure Mel got what was coming to him. No one fucked with his family and lived.

"I get it." Tig chuckled, nodding out the window to where there were lights on in the guest house. He'd seen them while the two had had their little stand off and had remained quiet knowing if he clued in Juice to it, there'd be a race between the two of them to get there first and it wouldn't be pretty. "Let's go get him then, Uncle Hap."

As they headed towards the guest house, they could hear a struggle going on inside followed by a loud bang. Happy gritted his teeth together, fighting back the feeling of fear that was threatening to spread through his system. He pushed it away and let anger take its place. If that fucker had shot his little cousin again, his death would not be pleasant.

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

Mel lunged for the gun, wrapping his arms around Angela's lower legs and sending a wave of pain up the injured one. The gun flew out of her hands landing somewhere above her head. While she flipped over onto her stomach, struggling to reach it, he grabbed at the knife that had fallen out of her sweatshirt sleeve. Flipping it open, he sunk it into her back, pulling it back out quickly. Before he could stab her again, she was on her back, gun in her hand, a deadly look in her dark eyes. "Fuck you," she growled before pulling the trigger.

Happy pushed open the door just in time to see his little cousin slowly get to her feet with the aid of a nearby chair. Her back was to him, a gun in her hands, a crimson circle gradually blooming around a slit in her sweatshirt. Without warning, she fired two more shots into the body on the ground. "Stupid asshole," she muttered, her voice rougher than usual.

He had never been more proud of her than he was at that moment. "You get him?" he asked, startling her.

Angela whirled around, gun aimed at his head. Even when she saw who it was, she didn't lower it. He recognized the dark, pissed off stare as the same one he saw in the mirror those nights he got home from a particularly gruesome job. Her face was badly bruised on one side and peppered with blood as was her chest, bare save for the unzipped sweatshirt on her shoulders and a bra. One of her hands was wrapped tightly around her Glock, the other holding onto the back of the chair for support. He looked down, spotting the makeshift bandage around her calf. He was willing to bet it was covering a bullet wound.

"Easy, doll. It's just us," Tig said, tucking his gun away and putting up his hands.

"Put it down, kid," Happy ordered softly, watching as her hold on the gun faltered ever so slightly. "Ain't gonna hurt you. We're here to take you home."

Those words were all too familiar. Her grip on the gun tightened once again, her body going rigid. "That's what he said," she growled, her eyes glancing from Tig to Happy. These were two men she trusted, whom she knew and loved, but Mel had been too. She couldn't find it in her to lower her gun, to put herself at their mercy. Not after everything she had just been through. "Stay away."

Happy and Tig exchanged glances, both killers far out of their element. They knew there was no real danger present. Angela would never shoot either of them without good reason but neither wanted to test that theory either.

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

As soon as Juice heard the first gunshot, he took off, heading back down the hall towards the living room. His heart was in his throat as he sprinted out the doors, heading towards the only place with light; the guest house. He heard her clipped words as he took the stairs two by two; she'd told his brothers to stay away. Like hell he would stay away. He could see her over their shoulders. She was covered in blood and pointing her gun straight out at them. Tucking his own gun back into his cut, he pushed through them, desperate to get to his girl. He didn't think twice about the gun in her hands. All he could see was the rise and fall of her chest. She was alive. He'd never been more relieved in his life.

"Angel," he breathed, moving around the gun and taking her face in his hands. She flinched at his touch, her dark eyes still on the men behind him, a glazed over look to them. "Angel, look at me."

Her dark eyes snapped to his, the arm with a gun shaking as she nodded, a tear slipping down her face. "Juice?" she whimpered, lowering her arm.

"That's right, baby. I'm here," he consoled her, taking the gun and handing it back to Tig without once taking his eyes off hers. "You're safe now. I got you."

A soft gasp left her lips as she leaned into his chest, her hands clutching desperately at the front of his cut as she buried her face into his neck. "Juice,"she gasped out, the word barely audible through her labored breathing.

"I'm here." Juice swallowed hard against the tears of relief he felt gathering in his eyes as he slid an arm around her waist holding her to him. "I got you, baby," he whispered again, running a hand over her soft hair. He could feel her shaking against him and held her tighter, kissing her cheek as he felt her tears against the skin of his neck. His hands rubbed over a wet spot in her sweatshirt. He grimaced when he pulled it away to find it was covered in blood. He pushed his worry to the back of his head, focusing more on calming her down; he'd get her checked out later. At the moment, he was just glad she was alive. That she was safely back in his arms. "You're safe, Angel. I got you. Ain't ever gonna let you go."