Killer Instinct ||Happy SOA Romance|| (ON HIATUS)

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my OCs.

Knowing that he had too much on his plate at the moment and didn't have time to track down the scumbag that conned his mom himself, Jax decided to get Nero's opinion on how to get that started.

"You don't gotta worry about that anymore, mano. I took care of it, we're even."

"Even how? Is the bastard dead?"

Nero sighed. "Nah, me and some of my crew roughed him up." He stared Jax in the eye. "But it's done. He got what he deserved."

"You may have gotten even with him, but now it's my turn. I'm gonna ask again, do you know anyone that can handle this for me?" Jax didn't like the pained look on Nero's face, but no way in hell was he going to tolerate someone taking advantage of his family.

"I know a guy," Nero said after a moment of hesitation. "It's gonna take me a while to get in touch and set up a meet. Is that okay?"

"Make it as soon as possible."

Samira looked up from her pocket sketchbook when she heard the door to her apartment open. "You're late," she called out.

"Sorry, club stuff." He kissed her cheek.

She gently grabbed his face. "What happened?"

"Club stuff," he repeated. "I didn't know you draw."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Juice. Your plate's in the microwave. I made spaghetti." He nodded and went to heat up his food.

For the last few weeks they'd eat a meal together almost every day, usually dinner and mostly at her house since club stuff kept him out late. Both were surprised at how much they had in common, and how easily their friendship formed. Although they got along really well and there was some form of attraction between them it wasn't anything strong enough for romance. Juice understood what Samira meant when she said that it wouldn't feel right for them to get together.

"I know the basics, like how you're Puerto Rican too. You're my age, you have a pet rat which," he pointed at her, "I still think is gross, by the way." Taking his plate out of the microwave, he began to eat. "You moved a lot when you were a kid, but always managed to come back to Cali, we both have moms with hazel eyes, you actually speak Spanish, and so on. Drawing should've been mentioned when discussing the basics." He needed to learn to finish chewing all his food before talking. He did this every time.

"I'm half Puerto Rican, Juice. I told you my dad was Brazilian." She put extra eyes on her hippo.

"Right, half," he mumbled and played with the placemat. "Is it wrong of me to consider you close enough to be my best friend?"

She shook her head. "I consider you one of my best friends, too. But Venus will always be my main bitch."

"That's good," he tried and failed to give her a smile. "So that means that if I was to tell you a secret you wouldn't tell anybody, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Samira leaned forward. "Juice, what's wrong?"

"I'm in a lot of trouble," he breathed. "What I'm about to tell you can't leave this room, okay?" She nodded. "I'm not a hundred percent Puerto Rican." He proceeded to tell her the long story of how law enforcement blackmailed him. How he ended up killing a brother. His suicide attempt. How his club president found out and gave him a chance at redemption, but not without an underlying threat. How he was so close to fixing his mistakes when he fell deeper into the shithole. It pained her to see him so broken. When he started to cry she'd wanted to tell him to stop talking, that she'd help him out no questions asked. What stopped her was the realization that the more he talked and cried, the easier he seemed to breathe. "I don't know what to do now Sammy," he sobbed. "Now that those papers are missing again, I have no idea what Jax is gonna do to me and I'm terrified."