Kill Your Conscience: Part Two

Tasha's breath hitched in her chest and she actually looked up at the biker properly as he pushed himself to his feet, shock in her red-rimmed eyes. "W-What?"

"I said good fucking job," Happy snarled, wresting the drink from her hand and hurling it at the wall to explode in a shower of glass and whiskey, making her flinch hard even as she stumbled to her feet and took a couple of unsteady steps back from his wrath. "You think Koz would want to see this shit? Getting wasted, leaving the kids to go fuck some stranger like some cheap skank …"

"Fuck you," she whispered, all the while trying to shake off the way her stomach turned at the thought.

"No, fuck you – I'm done tiptoeing round your bullshit! I fucking hate that you're hurtin', but I ain't gonna sit back and watch you slowly kill yourself!"

"I'm no use to anyone, not in this state," she tried.

"Lily, Leo, they need their mom."

"They need someone who can take care of them, not … What was it you said? A wasted skank? Stop wasting your time on me, Happy. You don't have to. Not for Koz. Not anymore."

He weighed up her words and the look of remorse and distress on her face. "Ain't just for Koz," he managed roughly, immediately wishing he hadn't said anything. "Just … Tash, come on, you gotta cut the bullshit, okay?"

"I'll try."

"I mean it. You're better than this. And you're gonna bite off more than you can chew one of these days. You been pushing your luck, girl. Lucky it ain't come to more than a smack. The fuck were you thinking?"

"I wasn't," she sighed. "I thought that was pretty clear."

"Crystal," Happy said dryly.

"I can't explain it," she said, sitting back down and not meeting his gaze, instead playing with the hem of the trashy red dress that was so unlike her usual style. "I just … I'm so tired, Happy. Tired and sad and … lonely. I feel so alone."

"You ain't alone."

"You can be surrounded by people and still feel alone," she said softly. "I just … I miss him so damn much. And the thought of feeling like this forever …"

"It'll get easier."

"Will it? Because right now, it's only getting worse. I don't think I can do it. Be alone like this. I can't …"

He didn't know what to say to that, simply sitting down himself and letting her lean in until her head was resting on his shoulder and he could wrap an arm around her. "Can't go home in this state," he said finally. "Take my room. I'll find another one that's free. Who's got the kids?"

"Dad."

"Let him know."

Someone had made up the bed that was always his for the taking with fresh sheets, a glance around the simple but relatively comfortable clubhouse room meeting Happy's exacting standards. He didn't like mess or clutter. That surprised some people. Others, not so much.

By now, his reputation – all of it - tended to proceed him.

Thankfully, he was long past the stage of skin magazines by the bed or naked chicks on the wall. Unlike the prospects. He didn't see the point when he was never short of the real thing when he wanted it. And at least he didn't have to worry about Tasha's reaction – not that she'd bat an eyelid. She'd spent enough time around the club to know it wasn't exactly full of boy scouts. Besides, she was probably in no frame of mind to be paying any attention to the aesthetics.

"Hiding the croweaters under the bed?" came her voice from the doorway, wry and still slurring in a way that made him frown.

She'd let her hair down, sending it tumbling over her shoulders in a tangle of loose waves, and the make-up around those eyes that had lost their sparkle had smudged more than he assumed it was supposed to. Anyone else would have been a mess, but somehow it worked on her.

"You square it with Dan?" Happy asked abruptly, averting his gaze.

Tasha smiled sadly as she nodded. "Yeah. Told him I'm fine, just staying with a friend. Don't want him worrying. Don't think it worked."

"He's your dad," the biker shrugged. "He's gonna worry. Don't keep giving him something to worry about."

"I'll try," she said, just like before, her vague tone not exactly filling him with confidence in the sincerity of her response, but he wasn't up for getting into it with her. Not at pushing 1am and not when she was clearly not anything like as sober as she was trying to pretend.

"Get some sleep," he ordered, pulling a black Samcro t-shirt from a drawer and holding it out for her to change into once he was gone. "You need anything else?"

She was looking at him a little strangely, biting her lip as she considered him with those too-bright green eyes.

"You're always looking out for me," she said, almost as if it was something she had only just realised. "Protecting me. Helping me. You've risked your life for me."

He tried to shrug it off like it was nothing. And it was. He'd done it all without hesitation and he'd do it again just as quick. Kozik was his brother in everything but blood. That made her … What? His mind stumbled over that. What was she to him? A friend? Nah, after everything, it ran deeper than that.

Family then? Yeah, that was probably closer. But sister? That didn't seem right, not now she was looking at him like that and the room was full of some weird tension that made him unsettled in a way he wasn't accustomed to, not with her and not with anyone.

"Stay with me," Tasha whispered hesitantly. "Please, Happy."

There it was.

Happy stared back at her in disbelief, his dark eyes scouring her face as he tried to work out what the hell she was thinking. It had to be the booze talking. Had to be.

"I just don't want to be on my own," she said, reaching out to touch his hand lightly. "Or feel like this. Make me feel … something. Happy, please. You're the only one I trust."

"Tash," he started, thrown to hear how rough his voice sounded. How uncertain. "The fuck are you asking me?"

Her fingers were still caught in his and she looked up at him, unable to find the words, but seeming to silently plead with him to understand.

"I need this, Hap," she whispered, slowly leaning in until her lips just barely grazed his.

He didn't move. Couldn't move.

All the times he had found himself reluctantly realising he envied Kozik, he'd told himself it hadn't been about Tasha. And it hadn't been. Not really. Just the idea of her. Not some used-up croweater who wore her sexuality like a weapon, all tits and ass and caked-on make-up - fake as fuck and not worth the drama. No, Tasha was different. Smart, strong, beautiful …

And Kozik's. His wife, the mother of his children. He'd never forgotten that, never overstepped. She belonged to his brother, gone or not. She needed him. Needed Kozik.

"I ain't him," Happy managed gruffly. "I ain't anything you need, girl."

Those green eyes filled with tears and she dropped her gaze to his chest, trying to hide it. "You're all I've got."

He'd reached out almost before he realised, one rough hand cupping her cheek. "You're gonna get through this."

She leaned in against his palm, her skin soft, a few tears escaping from beneath long lashes. Then, before either of them seemed to know what was happening, she'd risen up on tiptoe and kissed him again. He should have pulled back. But he didn't. Or couldn't.

Instead, he slowly let his mouth explore hers. Soft lips, warm tongue, the taste of booze and her lip gloss and something that was just her. He hadn't been with anyone who was more than just a casual fuck in … years. And when she fisted her hands in his t-shirt to pull herself closer to him, rational thought seemed to forsake him at the feel of her body moulded to his.

Shit …

This was probably the last thing she needed, no matter what she might say to the contrary. He knew that. But, despite his well-established standing as a stone-cold killer, he was still just a man – and not a good enough one to do the right thing. Not when she was right there, kissing him with something close to desperation.

One inked arm banded around her slim waist, his free hand burying itself in her hair as their kisses deepened.

It didn't seem real. Not when she was in his arms. Not even when her dress lay discarded on his floor, under his jeans. And especially not when they were naked on his bed, his dick rock-hard with need as his tongue lapped at her slick core.

Happy eased himself back up over her, his mouth trailing down her throat. "Tasha …" he groaned into her skin, no less sure this was a bad idea, but too far gone to argue the point.

"Please," she managed, the word twisting into a throaty moan as he finally surrendered and his cock pushed slowly into her tight heat. "Fuck, yes …"

Her hips met his thrust for thrust, his strong hands pinning hers to the pillow on either side of her head.

It was everything he'd never imagined he would have and everything he'd told himself he never wanted. And – as a tear slipped down her cheek - his conscience, an elusive beast at the best of times, was already threatening to choke him for it.

Fuck.