Promising Young Women | Sons of Anarchy Fanfiction | Jax Teller x OC

Chapter Eleven: Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

Thursday, 3:41 pm

With her heart thundering in her chest and adrenaline ringing in her ears, Grace shoved a handful of clothes into a suitcase and then made a mad dash for her dresser for another handful of clothes. She had a little time to get all her shit together, but not that much time. Maybe ten minutes. That's probably about how long it would take for Jax to realize she was nowhere to be found in that studio. He'd send a prospect over here in about two seconds flat and she needed to be gone before that happened.

Gone like the wind. Fucking disappeared into thin air.

That's what she needed to do.

Damon Pope was in the mix now - someone who might be involved in her little sister's murder and a business contact of the club. While the work she'd done for him - just a simple surveillance job that he'd paid handsomely for - was well over a year ago, they'd met face to face enough times that there was no way he wouldn't recognize her. And if he got anywhere near her, it was all over. Pope would give away her real identity like it was nothing. Casually. Absentmindedly. Tragically.

At least, it would probably be pretty tragic for her when Jax found out the truth of who she was and why she was really in Charming. Maybe he'd wrestle with the decision for a little while. Maybe he wouldn't. Either way, it would all end with him walking her out back behind the clubhouse and putting a bullet in her head.

That's how a club like that and a man like that handled their business and handled the people who betrayed them, didn't they?

Maybe he would understand. Maybe he would listen. Maybe he would -

No.

That was stupid to even entertain, let alone actually do.

He fucking cares about you the way you -

No.

None of that mattered because the smart thing to do right now was get out of town as fast as her beat-up Honda Civic could carry her. She'd already wasted enough time the way it was and the clock was ticking. Every moment she wasted here, wringing her hands over whether the man she had no business feeling anything for at all would really sit down and listen to what she had to say was a futile effort - she needed to run. Just fucking run. Then she could regroup - leaving this inside position in the club and in the studio would set her back, but there were other ways to get the information she needed. It would take longer, but at least she'd be alive, and she couldn't figure out what had happened to Dani if she was dead.

And on that thought, she shoved the clothes in her hands into her suitcase, tossed the burner phone she used for work inside, zipped it up, and rushed into the living room. Clothes were replaceable. Her life and limbs were not.

All she needed were the computers - hers and Dani's - along with Dani's phone, and once she had those and the chargers shoved into her bag, she couldn't wait any longer. She'd spent the better part of her morning sifting through email after email on Dani's computer and coming up empty before she had to go to the studio, and that was work she could do anywhere. Didn't need to be in Charming to read the thousands and thousands of emails Dani had in her Gmail account or the thousands and thousands of text messages saved in Dani's iCloud account either.

Just as she zipped up her suitcase one more time with those computers safely tucked away inside, that tell-tale motorcycle engine roar rumbled down the street and right into her driveway.