The next night...

Angela finished up with the body she'd been cremating and let out a long, happy sigh. She put the ashes in a nice little urn and slipped off her heavy duty gloves and apron. Wiping at the sweat on her forehead, she let out another soft sigh, wondering if Juice was going to stop by. The sound of a motorcycle approaching had her smiling. Wiping her sweaty hands on the thighs of her jeans, she skipped towards the door, throwing it open and peeking out, expecting to see Juice and his motorcycle there but finding no one. She raised an eyebrow, stepping out of the room and into the dark night. "Juice?"

Out of nowhere, someone slammed her against the wall of the funeral home. She saw stars briefly as the back of her head hit the brick wall. A hand covered her mouth before she could scream, the other squeezing around her upper arm. "Ssh, callate, Angelita," Esai's smooth voice whispered. "Screaming won't do you no good."

She struggled against him, wondering what he was doing there, why he was messing with her. "I heard you were back in California, chiqui," he said, the moonlight highlighting his pretty, light eyes. "Thought I'd see for myself."

Angela went still, trying to figure out where he was going with this. She'd known him since she was thirteen and could tell he was scared for some reason.

"I let you go, you gonna scream?" he asked, his face just inches from hers.

She raised an eyebrow at him, wondering why he thought she'd scream. She knew she wasn't in any danger now, it would be stupid to start screaming and make a scene for no reason. He waited until she shook her head to uncover her mouth, his hand still gripping her arm as if he were afraid she'd bolt. Taking in a deep breath, she looked up at him. "What the hell are you doing here, Esai?" she whispered.

"I fucked up, chiqui. I really fucked up," he quavered, glancing nervously over his shoulder as if to make sure he hadn't been followed.

She looked behind him too, praying that Juice wouldn't stop by on a whim and find Esai there. "What happened, E? What did you do?"

Esai shook his head, his fingers squeezing tighter around her arm quickly to emphasize his next words. "None of your goddamn business what I did."

"Then why the hell are you here, huh?" she challenged. She would've understood if he'd come to her to get something off his chest, but it didn't seem like that's what he wanted.

"I dunno," he replied, checking over his shoulder again. "I just...panicked and I needed...needed to see you."

"Its been over five years, E," she reminded him. "You got an Old Lady now..."

"Oh fuck that. You think things worked out with me and Dani? No, not with my old man still talking about you, Angelita. Even after all these years," he said, one hand stroking over her cheek. "You're the only one that gets me. That gets this whole life."

Angela swallowed hard as she tried to process that information. Why now, she wondered. He'd left her alone for all these years; why did he come to her now? Maybe he'd done something wrong and upset his father, maybe he thought winning her back would get him in his father's good graces, but it wouldn't. How could he not see that? "E, I can't...We're not the same people anymore."

Esai sighed, leaning forward to put his forehead to hers. "You're right. I'm a bad guy."

"What did you do?"

"Just...promise me you'll stay away from the Sons, Angelita," he said, his eyes desperate as they looked at her, pleading. "Promise me!"

"What? Why? What is going on, Esai?" she demanded, wincing as his fingernails dug into her skin.

His eyes studied her face, darkening slightly as he shook his head. "You're fucking one of them aren't you?"

She hesitated in answering, knowing he'd see through a lie if she tried it. "E..." she started, trying to figure out how best to tell him.

"Angelita, how could you? After all we've been through," he spat, his voice rough and angry. "After all my father's done for you! You go to the Sons?"

"What are you talking about, E?" she questioned in disbelief. "I'm here because I worked my ass off to be here without help from anyone."

Esai smacked her across the face, one good hard slap. "You take that back."

The taste of blood filled her mouth, and she let out a curse; he'd split her lip, the fucker. She grit her teeth together. She could handle the roughness of his touch and the way he was holding her arm, but she wasn't going to let him smack her around. Not again. "Let go of me, E," she ground out, her voice dangerously calm.

"Or what? You gonna run to the Sons?" he asked, getting in her face. "You gonna rat me out?"

"I won't have to," she replied, wincing as his grip on her arm tightened once again. She broked his hold with her free arm, forcefully pushing him away from her so that he fell on his ass. Reaching back, she pulled the Glock out of the waist of her pants. It had been a sixteenth birthday present from her cousin, and she'd taken to carrying it when she worked late in the crematorium just in case. At first, the notion someone might attack her on the way from the funeral home to the crematorium seemed a little paranoid but now, she was glad she'd thought of it.

Esai scrambled to his feet, chuckling slightly as he shook his head. This wasn't the first time she'd pulled that gun on him. In the past, she'd pull it out as a threat, but it usually wasn't loaded. "Some things never change. You even got that loaded?"

Angela racked the gun, sliding a bullet into the chamber. "Want to find out?"

He smirked at her, taking walking backwards towards his bike. "It was good seeing you, Angelita," he said, giving her a smile that was anything but friendly. He put his helmet on and winked at her. "I'll see you soon, chiqui."

She kept the gun pointed at him until his tail lights disappeared. Slowly, she lowered it, expertly emptying the chamber before tucking it back into the waist of her jeans. Her gun had been loaded this time. When she was younger, it hadn't been needed, but on her own, she made sure it was fully loaded and ready to go. Not that she had the balls to actually pull the trigger. She'd shot cans, paper targets, small animals, but never a human being. The thought alone terrified her.

"Shit," she breathed, touching her lip. The tips of her fingers came away stained red making her grimace. How was she going to explain this to Juice? Should she even try? Should she say something about the whole encounter? She decided against it. What Juice didn't know, didn't hurt him, though, in the long run, it might hurt her. With a soft sigh, she headed back into the crematorium to finish her work, praying Esai wouldn't come back for round two. 

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

Angela didn't sleep that night. She stared up at the ceiling, ears alert for any noise that was out of the ordinary, her gun tucked under her pillow just in case. The sun had just begun to rise when her cell phone went off. Groaning, she reached out for it, checking the caller ID and praying it was from a known number. A sigh of relief left her lips when she saw the Tacoma area code. "Hey," she answered on a breath.

"I'm outside. You awake?" her cousin's rough voice questioned from the other line.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," she said, scrambling to get out of bed. She grabbed an old sweatshirt and slipped on some flip flops before padding her way down the steps.

She smiled when she spotted her cousin leaning against his Harley, arms crossed over his chest as he watched her head down the stairs. If she hadn't grown up with him, Happy Lowman would be down right frightening with his tall stature, tattooed body, and piercing glare, but she knew him too well. And though his reputation was scary as fuck, he didn't scare her. "Hey cuz," she greeted, giving him a quick hug.

Happy let go first, as he usually did, catching her chin in one large hand when she went to pull away. His thumb dragged over the bruise on her jaw. A look of concern coming over his tan features. "The fuck is this?"

She grimaced; she had forgotten about the small cut on her lip and the slight bruise on her face in her haste to get out of bed. Of course, Happy would see it. He paid attention to every little detail of everything. It's what made him such a good artist. "Had a little visit from someone last night," she explained, pulling her face out of his grasp.

"Who?"

Angela hesitated for a moment, knowing telling him wouldn't lead to anything good. "You remember Esai?" she asked hesitantly. His eyes darkened, a terrifying look crossing over his face. Clearly, he remembered exactly who she was talking about. "Um...he was in town and I guess he...wanted to see me."

Happy shook his head at her. A slow anger bubbling in his veins. Someone had disrespected his family. Someone needed to pay for that. The fact he was a Mayan just added insult to injury. He'd let it slide when Angela and Esai were young and stupid because he'd been locked up but this time...this time he wasn't about to let that asshole get away with it. Esai Alvarez had to die. Like a lot. "And you let him hit you?"

"I didn't let him do anything. He had me pinned."

He sneered at her, shaking his head. "Thought I taught you better 'n that."

Angela nodded in agreement. "I got out of it. Pulled my Glock on him. That's how I got him to leave."

A proud smirk turned up the corner of his lips. He knew she'd never actually shot anyone before, nor did she particularly want to, but the fact she was willing to pull out the gun anyway made him proud. "You shoot?"

"Wasn't necessary," she replied with a shake of her head. "Brains before bullets, right?"

"Yeah." His phone beeped loudly in his pocket. Leaning forward, he brushed a kiss to her temple. "This ain't over. We'll talk later, aight?"

Angela nodded, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Yeah. Later, Hap. Love you."

"You too, kid."

Heaving a relieved sigh, she hiked back up the stairs and shut the door behind her. Now that she knew Happy was in town, that he was aware of the situation, her mind was at ease. Yawning, she crawled back into bed, determined to at least get some sleep. She managed to sleep for two hours before Skeeter's voice woke her up.

"Angie!" his voice called up her steps.

On a tired groan, she threw back her sheets before quickly pulling on the black slacks she'd left on the floor from the day before and a loose black top. Using some of the make-up skills she picked up while working as an embalmer, she managed to cover up her split lip and the bruising so that it was less noticeable.

"Angie!" his voice was more demanding now.

"Coming!" she shouted back, working her long hair into a braid. She tossed it over her shoulder before slipping on some black ballet flats and tromping down the stairs. Skeeter was waiting for her in the entrance of the parlor. "Sorry, Skeet. Late start today."

Skeeter smiled at her, just happy to see she was awake and ready to go. He had to literally drag the last person who had her position out of bed more than once and splash cold water in their face to sober them up before anything got done. Angela was a refreshing change to that loser. "It's all right, sweetheart. Just glad you're up and...sober."

"Thanks, I guess," she said with a small laugh. He might be a creepy to most people, but in the funeral home business, he wasn't as creepy as some of the other directors she'd met. She had definitely worked for worse. "What's going on?"

"You ain't gonna be happy, kid. We got one guy, two ladies, GSWs," he said looking at his clipboard and frowning. "All three fully autopsied."

Angela grimaced. Fully autopsied bodies were a bitch to embalm. They took a hell of a lot longer than non-autopsied bodies. This day could not get any worse. "Three? Fuck." 

"Sorry, sweets. I'd help ya, but I got three funerals to help plan and these people do not have 'sweet' next of kin. It's going to be a bitch to get anywhere with them," he said on a sigh.

She gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. Sometimes his work was even harder than hers in that respect. "It's fine, I got it. Let me put on some scrubs first and I'll get right to it," she muttered heading back up to her apartment to change. Three embalmings meant she'd be on her feet all day and she wasn't about to do it in her fancy clothes.

Opening up the door to her small closet, she pulled out her black scrubs and slipped them on. After that, she grabbed a Rockstar from the fridge, and headed down to the morgue. She gulped down half of the Rockstar before grabbing her iPod off the counter. She tucked it into her pocket and slipped the headphone buds into her ear before putting on gloves and unzipping the first bag.

It was a middle aged man, tatted with Aryan ink. A big tattoo that read 'Nordics' going across his stomach. She wrinkled her nose, White hate. It was times like these when she wished she could be selective about who she worked on. Instead, she sighed and sprayed him down to start loosening his muscles.

Juice walked into her work room and just watched her for a few minutes. Her concentration was completely on the task at hand, her music so loud, he could tell exactly what she was listening to. Aerosmith. Jealousy crept up on him and before he realized it, he wanted to snatch her away from the dead guy, take her up to her room, and demand she give him the same kind of attention as she was giving the Nord on the table. He rolled his eyes at his own twisted thoughts wondering if that was how Tig's mind worked on a daily basis.

He approached her stealthily, slipping his hands around her curvy waist and whispering in her ear. "Beware the zombies!" To his surprise, her reaction was to jump and elbow his side as hard as she could. "Ow! Shit, Angel!" he exclaimed clutching at his side.

After what happened with Esai the night before, Angela's reaction to someone sneaking up behind her had been a little more violent than normal. She whirled around, eyes wide as she looked at him. "Sorry! Sorry! You scared the crap outta me!"

"Good to know you have good defense instincts," he groaned rubbing at the sore spot.

"Well, I hear the word zombies and get ready to kick some ass." Angela smirked at him, taking off her gloves and slipping her hand underneath his cut to rub at the spot she'd injured. She didn't try and go under his shirt, knowing what that would lead to and though she wanted him badly, she had a ton of work to do. She tilted her head up and smiled as he pressed a kiss to her lips.

Juice shook his head at her. "An elbow to the ribs ain't gonna do much to a zombie, Angel."

"What do I need for them? Silver bullets?"

"That's werewolves," he corrected with a roll of her eyes. "You need a fuckin' shot gun for zombies." He paused as if something had just dawned on him. "Do you even know how to shoot a gun?"

She shrugged a shoulder, extending her pointer finger and thumb to make a gun with her hand and pointing it at him. "Pow!"

"Okay, wrap this shit up, we're going shooting."

Angela glanced back at the body and bit her lip. She really shouldn't. She should finish working. But Juice looked so sexy with that protective look in his eyes and she could only imagine how hot he'd look with a gun in his hand. "Fine," she said finally as she zipped up the bag. "Let me change first."

"I'll help you," he offered, going to follow her.

"If you do that, we'll never get anywhere," she said with a roll of her eyes as she skipped towards the steps.

Juice waited in the hallway, nodding a greeting to Skeeter as he went by. "Angie working?" Skeeter asked, looking over his shoulder into the work room.

"Takin' her for a lunch break," Juice explained simply.

Skeeter didn't look too pleased with that thought. It wasn't because she was skipping out on work, he knew Angela would finish the job even if it took her all night; it was that she was getting too involved with Juice and the Sons. He had a lot of respect for the MC, but he didn't want to see Angela get wrapped up in that world; she was better than that. "Treat her right," he said softly before heading back to work.

Juice raised a quizzical eyebrow at the man, wondering where that had come from. It seemed her boss cared a lot more about her than most bosses did for their employees. He shook off the thought as Angela skipped towards him wearing a pair of very tight jeans, her beat up riding boots, and a simple red plaid button up. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded, following him out to his bike.

After stopping at the clubhouse to get his stock of guns and bullets, they headed to a relatively deserted area. The charred remains of an old building were the only thing that hinted that the place had once held some kind of business. Juice lined up old cans on a slightly elevated part of the wreckage before heading back to her. He pulled out a semiautomatic hand gun from the inside of his cut.

Her eyes widened slightly. "Do you always have that there?"

"You never noticed?" he asked, a teasing smile on his face. He wasn't surprised she hadn't, he did his best to keep it concealed. At the shake of her head, he pointed to the knife he had hanging off his waistband. "I got a knife here too," he teased.

"That one, I saw," she said, scowling at him.

He chuckled. "All right, ready?" he asked holding the gun out to her. "Hold out your dominant hand."

She held out her right hand and he placed the gun inside it, using his own fingers to curl hers into the appropriate grip making sure her index finger was nowhere near the trigger. He stepped behind her, lining up his arms with hers to guide them into the right position. "Now spread your legs," he said, his breath hot on her ear.

"How long have you been planning that line?" she asked, a smirk tugging up the corner of her lips.

His leg slid between hers, gently spreading them apart. She swallowed hard, leaning back into him as all sorts of inappropriate thoughts filled her head. "Too long," he murmured, his lips moving across her ear and sending shivers down her spine. "Put your finger on the trigger."

"Okay."

"Close one eye and line it up so that you can see the target," he instructed, waiting for her to do so. It was hard to focus on what he was saying with his body pressed up against hers the way it was, but she did as she was told, taking great care into aiming it just so. "Are you holding it as tight as possible?"

"Yes sir. Can I shoot now?"

Juice grinned at her enthusiasm, slipping his trigger finger over hers. "Just feel what I'm doin', all right? Remember it."

She nodded slowly, standing up firmer in her stance and smiling as his trigger finger slowly pushed hers back. The loud sound of the gun firing filled the air making her heart beat even faster than before. He fired off several rounds with her, hitting the target perfectly each time. His arms fell from hers, his ringed fingers sliding down her body before gripping her hips. "Ready to go by yourself?" he whispered into her ear.

Angela swallowed hard, resisting the urge to turn around and attack him. "Oh hell yeah."

"Go 'head," he murmured, his mouth ghosting over her ear.

She aimed the gun and shot the remaining three cans in succession, hitting them off the fence perfectly. She turned to him, bringing the gun up to her lips as she blew across the barrel like an old west cowboy. "Done."

Juice raised an eyebrow as he realized that Angela not only knew how to shoot the gun, but was also pretty good at it. "I thought you didn't know how to shoot," he stated, a little in awe of her.

"I never said that," she pointed out with a devilish smirk. "You assumed."

He narrowed his eyes at her, shaking his head slightly. "Something you picked up with the Mayan?"

Angela tensed a bit at the mention of her old flame. "Please, he's a terrible shot," she managed to say nonchalantly. "My cousin taught me. I've been shooting guns since I was thirteen."

Another mention of her cousin, Juice noticed his curiosity piquing. He'd have to look up this mysterious cousin of hers later. "That's a long time. No wonder you're good at it."

"That's not all I'm good at," she replied suggestively with that sexy smirk of hers that drove Juice wild.

Juice didn't miss the innuendo. His hands found her hips, pulling her closer so she was pressed flush against him. His mouth crashed down against hers hungrily as her hands grabbed the collar of his cut, pulling on it as her tongue delved into his mouth. Without breaking the kiss, his hands found the back of her thighs, hauling her up off the ground so her legs could wrap around his waist.

He walked her towards a nearby tree, pressing her against it as his fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt to find that they were snaps. Smirking, he grabbed either side and pulled, unsnapping it in one quick tug and revealing a lacy black bra. He took a minute to admire the skimpy fabric; the girl had the sexiest underwear he'd ever seen. He mouthed the top of it, gently scraping his teeth over the smooth skin just enough to make her moan.

And then her phone went off, the sound of the funeral march filling the air. "Oh fuck me," she swore, tilting her head back against the tree as Juice stopped, his face pressed against her collar bone, his breathing harder than usual.

"That's what I've been trying to do," he growled, nipping at the skin there. "You don't have to get that."

"It's Skeeter," she said on a breath, untangling her legs from his waist and setting her feet on the ground so she could get her phone out of her pocket. "Hi Skeet," she answered, biting her lip to hold back a moan as Juice buried his face in her cleavage, his pressing kisses to her breasts. She tried to push his head away, but he kept at it, hoping that as soon as she hung up the phone, they could finish what they started. "Yeah...shit, okay...Sorry!"

And then his phone went off. He frowned, pushing off of the tree and away from her. "I hate technology," he muttered, digging into his pants to answer his phone. "Yeah? All right. Be there in a few. I gotta drop Angel off."

He glanced at her face and for the first time noticed the small split in her lip. He hung up the phone before taking her face into his hands, he gingerly rubbed a finger over it. "What's that?"

"Nothin'. We just had a very disgruntled customer today," she lied, cursing her make up for not being makeout proof. He never would've noticed otherwise. "She wasn't a big fan of our prices so she smacked me. The end."

Juice chuckled, shaking his head at her as he snapped together the first snap on her shirt. "Who knew funeral homes could be so dangerous?"

"They are. Especially when the zombie killer isn't around," she teased, swatting his hands away to finish snapping her top closed; he was taking much too long.

"My bad." He handed her his extra helmet, helping her put it on before pressing a sweet kiss to her lips. "Maybe I can make it up to you some way?"

Angela gave him a naughty grin before stretching a leg over his bike. "Oh I have many ways in mind. They just always get interrupted."

He swallowed hard, feeling his blood grow hot at her innuendo. This girl was going to be the death of him someday, he thought as he slid onto his bike in front of her. She wrapped her arms around his torso, pulling herself as close to him as possible. She laughed as he reached back a hand to squeeze her thigh. "Next time, baby, next time."