The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.
No copyright infringement is intended.
Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.
All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to real persons are pure coincidence.
Love and thanks go to the DH, who is very much alive and well; along with my best friend and my 'unofficial' god – daughter for being part of my family. Also, much thanks to the members of , , the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler fan group, SOA Forums, Watchers of Anarchy, Kim Sisk (author of Sapphires and Whiskey), and my Facebook and Twitter friends for their support. A big thank you for those readers who have written reviews and listed me as a favorite author here at FanFiction. Net.
Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.
Charming Pawse
From NS To OUT
Empty Chairs
at a
Long Table
Jacob Hale was nervous about going into the office. The walls and doors might be solid, but his secure sanctuary had been breached the previous day and he didn't relish the idea of going back to the scene of the hostage standoff on his own. Despite Zobelle's 'gift', Hale was scared enough to call CPD to ask Unser for an armed escort to and from his office.
"You're smoking better grade shit than I am!" Unser laughed. "You honestly think I'm going to assign an uniformed officer as a bodyguard for you after you shut down CPD?"
"I'm serious, Wayne!" Hale pleaded. "What if that thug's associates come after me?"
"The whole town would be a lot better off!" Unser retorted.
"You should watch what you say to me, Unser!" Hale roared threateningly.
"What are you going to do, fire me?" the police chief shot back. "Oh, wait, my job's already been taken from me!"
"This is not funny, Unser! I'm a citizen, the victim of a crime and I deserve protection!"
"Then go get it from SJSD since you love 'em so much!" Unser slammed down the phone before Hale could reply.
"And he wonders why I sought to have CPD shut down!" Hale snorted, dialing Roosevelt's number. "This is Hale," he announced when Roosevelt answered.
"Yes, sir." Roosevelt's response was guarded, which set Hale's teeth on edge.
"You know what happened at my office yesterday," he stated flatly.
"I saw a few mentions about it on the news," Roosevelt admitted.
"Then you know I need protection."
"That's CPD's jurisdiction until this evening," Roosevelt replied tersely.
"Unser turned me down," Hale explained.
"Charming won't be in SJSD jurisdiction until 5pm," Roosevelt stated. "I'm sorry."
"You will be if you don't do something! Don't forget who put Charming in your lap!" Hale growled.
"I haven't forgotten, but there's no way I can allocate manpower in Charming to protect one citizen," Roosevelt explained patiently as if he were talking to a stubborn child denied a desired toy.
"Then you'd better hope nothing happens to me!"
"What could possibly happen to you today, Jacob?" Roosevelt asked. Though his voice didn't show it, Roosevelt was grinning.
"That thug's friends could come after me!" Hale cried.
"I doubt that. The Calavarez MC is dead for all intents and purposes. SJSD will be watching their activities outside Charming. If they cross the town limits, we'll notify CPD. That's protocol," he added when Hale started to protest. "As long as you stay in Charming's city limits, you should be safe," Roosevelt assured him.
Hale slammed the telephone receiver onto the cradle, snorting in distaste. It was like he'd gone from hero to zero in just a few hours. He ran from his house to his car, locking the door the second it closed behind him. He drove straight to his office, waiting in the parking lot until the secretary arrived.
She glanced guiltily at her watch when she saw Hale was obviously waiting for her. She was early, and was surprised when he fell into step beside her, rushing them both into the building.
"I need you to make sure no one enters my office who doesn't have an appointment. Anyone who just happens to drop by, make an appointment for them and send them on their way!" He instructed tersely.
The secretary nodded, though his nervous manner amused her. He'd hadn't shown an iota of concern for her welfare yesterday after the crisis had ended and he demanded to be taken to the hospital. 'He's only concerned about himself! Makes me wonder what kind of mayor he'll be!'
Oblivious to his secretary's mutinous thoughts, Hale continued barking orders. "My door will be locked all day. If you need to enter, you call first. I won't answer any unannounced knocks, are we clear?"
The secretary unlocked the door to the office and glanced over her shoulder at him. "Why don't you hire a guard for the office? It might be safer for both of us."
"I already tried to get protection from Unser, he laughed at me!" Hale cried, heading towards his inner sanctum. "And SJSD won't take jurisdiction until this evening!"
"What about a private security guard?" She inquired.
"I shouldn't have to pay for protection!" Hale roared angrily. "That's what my taxes are supposed to pay for!" He slammed the door to his office. A distinct click informed the secretary that he'd locked the door behind him.
'Asshole!' She fumed inwardly. 'It's all about you! I was just as scared for a bit yesterday! What if that criminal had taken me in the office with you?'
She sighed and shook her head. Fortunately, Salazar had been more interested in taking Hale hostage with Dr. Knowles. Except to tell her to call the cops, Salazar hadn't paid any attention to her. 'Guess I should be thankful for a few small blessings!'
Locked safely in his office, Hale paced the floor, talking himself into thinking and acting more calmly. 'Any more outbursts like that, and I can kiss the Mayor's office goodbye before the election ever gets going!'
He wasn't just upset about his safety. The recording Salazar's girlfriend had made was still 'out there' somewhere. His number one priority was finding that woman's cell phone before the recording fell into the wrong hands.
He knew that SJSD and the Feds hadn't found the cell phone at the house where Dr. Knowles and her supervisor had been kept. If it'd been found, he'd have been on the news for an entirely different reason. 'That meant the woman had to have it on her before she died but didn't have it on her when her body was discovered. The car hasn't been recovered yet, so it must be there!'
Salazar's girlfriend had been found in SJSD jurisdiction, though CPD was initially called when SAMCRO and the Mayans found the two dead bodies. 'With most of SAMCRO in jail, it's doubtful Teller - Morrow's been contacted to tow away Salazar's car. It has to be somewhere in that area where the bodies were found!'
He wanted to slap himself for not mentioning that to Zobelle earlier. 'For someone who seems to know everything that goes on here, he sure seemed oblivious to that problem!'
It cheered him considerably to know that Zobelle wasn't as all knowing as he appeared. A sly grin spread across Hale's face as he scrolled through a list of contacts he kept for his more questionable dealings. He found the contact he wanted and pressed the 'call' button.
"Yeah?" The voice on the other end of the line grunted impatiently.
"I have a job for you. I need you to find a late model red Chevrolet Camaro. It's somewhere in the area where that cop and Hispanic woman were found yesterday."
"Ya gotta lien on it or somethin'?"
"Don't ask questions, just listen. There may be a cell phone in the Camaro. If you find it and bring it to me, I'll double your usual rate," Hale replied.
The line went dead. Hale smiled grimly and pocketed his cell. He knew his contact would start right to work. He knew what motivated the man and had baited his hook accordingly. All he had to do was sit back and wait.
After hanging up on Jacob Hale, Unser got to thinking harder about Salazar and Hale's connection to the outlaw. 'I wonder if Salazar kept any evidence of his liaison with Hale. He seemed pretty crafty for an outlaw.'
He'd been in direct contact with both SJSD and the ATF regarding Dr. Knowles' and Margaret Murphy's kidnapping. There hadn't been any evidence found at the Calavarez hideout, nor at the house Salazar and his woman had used to stash their hostages.
'Salazar wasn't carrying anything on him that would incriminate Hale, but he might've trusted the girlfriend. She was as vicious and crafty as him from everything I've heard!' Unser observed. 'But if she didn't have it on her person when she died, where - ?'
His thoughts turned into an epiphany. 'Of course! Their car! They might've been carrying evidence against Hale with them. Salazar would've forgotten about it because of his upset over the girlfriend dying!'
He called Teller - Morrow and explained what he needed to Chucky. "It's really important that someone go out there right away before someone else gets a bright idea about towing that car in!" Unser added.
"I accept that, Chief!" Chucky replied. "I'll have one of the mechanics take care of it right away!"
"Let me know when it's safe in the lot. I'll check it out tomorrow."
Chucky gave the assignment to Dog, who snorted and ambled off to the tow truck. 'I'll be damn glad when the prospects take over the repo and tow jobs!' He hated having his mechanic work interrupted for what he considered 'grunt work'. Dog drove out to the location Chuckie had gotten from Unser. The dirt road was separated from the busy highway by a swath of high grass and a dark metal fence.
He slowed as he neared the area where the two womens' bodies had been found. It wasn't hard to miss with remnants of yellow police tape laying in the scrub on the side of the dirt road.
'Now where could that Camaro have been left?' Dog mused, glancing from one side of the road to the other. The weeds on either side weren't high enough to camouflage a red sports car like the Camaro.
A driveway bordered by high bushes appeared to one side, leading to an abandoned building. "Jackpot! That looks like a great place to stash a car!" Dog turned into the driveway and followed it towards a shed like structure behind the larger building. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face at the sight of the Camaro's front end sticking out of the shed's opening.
"It looks like it's waiting for me to hook it up and take it away!" He backed the tow truck to the Camaro's front end, then jumped out of the cab to attach the chains and other equipment to the vehicle. He worked quickly, intending to get the Camaro hooked up and get away in a short amount of time.
'I don't like these jobs!' He grumbled to himself. 'Too much hard work in the elements. I can't wait to get back to the garage where it's shady!' The minute the car was secure, he climbed into the cab, put the truck in gear, and rolled slowly back down the drive to the dirt road.
Dog noticed another vehicle traveling slowly towards him as he pulled onto the dirt road. He rolled the driver's side window up as a precaution. The dirt road wasn't well traveled, and the appearance of a slow moving vehicle approaching his was enough to put him on guard.
The vehicle was a 'dualie' diesel pick up with a double cab and double back tires. It was designed for heavy duty work. There wasn't any signage on the truck, but Dog recognized it as an independent hauler that worked the repos Teller - Morrow wouldn't touch. The truck's bed had a pneumatically controlled crane for towing vehicles.
'Just a lot of flash, in my opinion!' Dog snorted, waving a hand in a friendly manner at the driver as they passed each other. The driver of the other vehicle scowled at Dog and rushed away in the opposite direction, leaving a large cloud of dust in his wake.
"Sore loser!" Dog grunted, continuing on his way towards the highway. He shrugged and relaxed against the seatback. The other driver could've waived a pistol at him, so a frown wasn't such a bad thing.
The driver of the newer truck pulled to a stop after the Teller - Morrow tow truck turned onto the highway. The driver dug his cell phone from his pocket, dialed a number, and waited for an answer.
"Did you get it?" Hale breathed in the driver's ear.
"Sorry. Teller - Morrow beat me to it," the contact reported. "Their truck was already taking off with it when I got here."
'Shit!' Hale scrubbed his face with his hand. "That wasn't what I wanted to hear!"
"Not my problem. I expect to get paid for this, Hale. Gas is expensive for a dry run."
Hale was tempted to tell the contact off, but kept a reign on his misplaced anger. "It'll be in the usual place at the regular time," he sighed, pressing the 'end call' button on his phone. He sat down heavily in his chair, gazing across the office at nothing in particular.
"I can't blame him for missing out on the tow," he sighed. "Unser probably called the garage the minute he got off the phone with me! Asking him for protection probably reminded him that Salazar and his woman might have evidence against me in Lumpy's death."
He shrugged and sat forward in his chair, turning his attention back to the work he'd put down when the contact called. 'There's nothing I can do about Salazar's car now. Maybe I'll be lucky and Salazar destroyed it after his woman died.'
It was a slim chance, but it was all that Hale had to hold on to. The alternative was too ghastly for him to consider.
Kozik's cell phone vibrated in his pocket. The school bus was parked just off the highway in a shady place, waiting for their cue to move.
He dug the burner out of his pocket and flipped it open. A short text from Miles appeared on the screen. "Behind Fed wagon 2 Stockton. Stahl hs 2 cars. Unser will separate. U know what to do.'
"It's on, guys. Stahl and another car are on the move. Unser's going to separate them. He'll text us when it's clear."
"Aye," Chibs grunted, sipping from a Jameson juice box. "Ah'm ready."
Opie remained silent. He neither dreaded nor anticipated his part in the mission. He had a job to do, and he would do it. For her.
There was never any doubt that Opie would be the one to kill Stahl. He had the best reason. If not for Stahl's machinations to make it appear that he was turning against the club, Donna would still be alive. 'Tig was right about that. He was just Clay's tool to protect the club. Stahl killed my wife.' Thoughts of Donna brought feelings of renewed guilt to him. 'What the fuck am I doin', gettin' engaged this soon after losin' her?'
He only asked Lyla to marry him because he needed to be able to get her out of the porn business. A boyfriend didn't have much say in his woman's career. As Gemma had so succinctly put it, a husband has more say. 'Besides, my kids need stability, and she's good with them. They love her and Piper. Donna will rest easy because the kids are safe and being looked after. She'll rest even easier after I send Stahl to Hell.'
Chibs was thinking of his own retribution against Jimmy O'Phelan. It was Jimmy who had forced him out of Ireland after giving him the 'Glasgow smile' and taking his family from him. Jimmy had made Fiona fearful of him, despite her family's IRA ties. Those offenses against him were bad enough, but Jimmy's comment about Kerrianne a few weeks earlier had sickened him. 'Ah couldnae belave Jimmy culd think o'Kerrianne as a sex partner! A gurl 'e'd raised lyke a dawter!' Chibs intended to make Jimmy pay for those offenses of the past and also for killing his nephew.
Kozik's part in the ambush wasn't as emotionally intense as his brothers. He would stand watch in case Stahl's team came back too soon. His other task was to punch Unser hard enough to leave a mark. It would reinforce Unser's claim that he'd been overpowered and knocked unconscious. He spent the waiting time reviewing again all the pros and cons of patching in under the 'hardship clause'. He had to admit that his pride would've preferred getting in through an unanimous vote. 'That wasn't in the cards,' he sighed inwardly. 'The more I think about this, the more sense it makes. I burned my bridges with SAMTAW's Prez and don't wanna go Nomad, much less to SAMRRO. Not with Ima in my life. Besides, SAMCRO's gonna need manpower.' Another idea about the clause that suited him was that he could become the acting SAA!
Piney wasn't bothered with any thoughts about the mission at hand, much less about the future of the club. He was merely putting in time, doing the minimum required to keep the patch on his back. His thoughts were on his friend and the past.
'The club's changed since we started it, JT. All our ideas are as dead and gone as most of the First 9. There's only me, Clay, and Lenny left now. God, we might've raised some Hell back then, we were a real brotherhood, too. Now, it's every man for himself.'
In Piney's opinion, the backbone that supported the club broke the day JT died. He'd hung on all these years in the hopes that Jax would take the gavel and bring the club back to its' glory days. 'Jax might take the gavel one day while I'm still alive to see it, but he won't be bringin' the club back around to your vision. I tried to guide him, John. Thought givin' him that manuscript of yours would show him the path. He might've gotten the guys easy time, but he's more withdrawn from your vision than ever.'
Cat found it difficult to relax after Alex's call. She tried to rest, but was too keyed up over the husky note in his voice. 'The last thing he needs is for me to show up at the clubhouse demandin' to know what's goin' on with him!' She fumed. 'That'd just distract him. Might as well get up and find somethin' to do to keep my mind occupied.'
She tried playing around on the computer, but the games and her personal social network accounts held little to interest her. She glanced at the clock on the computer screen, noting that it was nearly closing time for the coffeehouse. She decided to go over and check in on her business.
She stopped in her office, but there was nothing that needed her attention there. All the evening reports were loaded and ready for Miss Anna - who was closing - to enter the new data.
"We've had a great day, Miss Cat. Seems like we've gotten more business since you announced your candidacy!"
"I won't complain about that!"
"Pete took care of the grocery run, so we're all set for baking day. Are you still planning on making the delivery to Stockton Sunday?"
"Yeah, Tig's goin' to go along. It's 'our' day to get out of town for a bit, but he doesn't mind the small detour," she nodded.
CJ was cleaning the cat room. He waved at his employer through the window and pointed at Ebony, who lay in the window sill, soaking up sun and supervising his progress. Ming was curled up on a high shelf, but Misty was no where to be seen.
'She must've run out into the cat run when CJ came into the room!' Cat waved back to the young man and limped to the back door.
Sure enough, Misty was in the wired cat run, eating grass and batting at a butterfly that hovered over the pen. Cat settled into Alex's lawn chair for a moment, pondering what she could do to ease tension. "When the big dog's away, the cat can play, so I'll just do a little 'tai chi' to unwind!" She informed the one eyed feline.
Misty's ears pricked forward at the sound of her human's voice. The cat flipped her tail in disdain.
"Yeah, I know. Alex doesn't like the idea, but he forgets that there are stretches and movements that don't require a lot of action and won't hurt me!" She informed the feline.
Misty snorted and turned her back, running through the fenced pen into the garage.
"Same to y'all!" Cat laughed after the departing feline. She began with the basic warm up stretches, then eased into a basic exercise of flowing arm movements and footwork that didn't involve high kicks or fancy turns. She allowed her mind and body to lose themselves in the movements, concentrating on the ebb and flow of energy around her.
Stahl couldn't contain her smirk of triumph. She had Jimmy O'Phelan in custody and she'd exposed Jax Teller to his club as a rat. Even better, she had all the club's officers and two other members in custody for the Federal weapons charges. A surge of elation filled her as she watched her team hustle the outlaws to the paddy wagon.
'If only they were going away for years instead of the 14 months I agreed to!' She mused, signing off on the agreement she'd made with Jax and handing it over to Ally Lowen. 'There's always the chance they'll do something inside to get additional time!'
Ally accepted the folder from the agent, giving her a look of pure hatred. The lawyer skimmed through the document, satisfied that it was in order. 'It's hard to believe we're both working with the law. What you've done is more heinous than anything the club has done!' Ally muttered angrily to herself. She glanced at Gemma, concerned by the woman's vulnerable appearance. 'I hope this doesn't cause her heart to act up!'
Gemma gasped for breath, fighting to hold back tears. The fear she'd carried for Jax so long was now a reality. 'I may never see him live again! Clay will have him killed as soon as they step foot in Stockton!'
Tara wasn't much better off. She'd rushed to Jax's side as he was being led away and thrown her arms around his neck. She recognized the enormity of Stahl's betrayal and shared Gemma's fear that they'd never see Jax alive again. She wasn't going to allow him to leave without knowing she cared.
Lyla stepped next to the distraught biker queen, lending silent support. She now understand the reason that Opie had asked her to come to the clubhouse that afternoon.
"I can't tell you why right now," he replied quietly. "I know it's a pain in the ass to make arrangements for someone else to get the kids. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important."
"Some of that club business, I assume," she sighed. She remembered what the 'Old Ladies Support Group' had discussed just a few weeks earlier on the subject and straightened her shoulders. "OK, what time do you want me here?"
Lyla was just as shocked as Gemma and Tara by what had occurred. She also felt guilty for being relieved that Opie wasn't one of the men being led away to the paddy wagon.
Gemma turned to Lyla and buried her head on the younger woman's shoulder. Her body shook from pent up emotion. Gemma was determined not to break down in front of Stahl.
Chuckie and the mechanics were just as shocked and surprised as the women. They exchanged apprehensive glances. "I don't accept this!" Chuckie murmured. The mechanics nodded agreement.
'Tis bin a long day! 'Twill be a blessin' ta sit inna nice, safe jail cell!' Jimmy thought as he approached the back door of Stahl's Crown Victoria. He was so elated that he'd taunted the club about being blessed with the luck of the Irish. For the first time since he'd left Putlova's home, he felt completely in control of his situation. He was already planning to make a deal in exchange for an easy sentence.
'Ah'll git back at all o' 'em!' He assured himself. 'Revenge on Putlova fer sellin' me oot ta SAMCRO. Ah'll tell all Ah kin aboot SAMCRO's gun operayshun 'ere an' tha deal wi' tha IRA! An those mutherfookers will pay fer puttin' a boonty onna me haid!' Jimmy intended to sing like a bird and live like a king when it was all said and done. 'Aye, tha' luck o' tha Irish is smilin' on me!'
Agent Mendes waited beside the driver's door for the IRA leader to be placed in the back seat. He watched as the other agents on the team secured the grim, silent bikers into the paddy wagon.
Jax sat by himself on the center of one bench. His zip tied hands were clasped in front of him as his brothers filed into the paddy wagon. Each one glared vehemently at him as he settled onto the opposite bench.
Clay wound up sitting directly across from Jax. His eyes blazed with pent up fury, promising all kinds of retribution when the opportunity arose.
The bikers remained silent as their bound hands were secured with a length of chain. The paddy wagon's doors shut with a dreadful clang, cutting off the light. The only thing that kept the prisoners from being in the dark was a small square of wired panel separating them from the cab.
"Take them on to Stockton for processing," Stahl informed the paddy wagon driver. "They're expecting you."
The driver nodded. He and his partner climbed into the truck's cab, started the engine, and backed up enough to point the nose towards the gate. He put the wagon into drive and allowed it to roll slowly from the compound.
Stahl strode triumphantly to the passenger side of her vehicle, slid her sunglasses over her face, and slipped into the passenger seat of her car. Mendes got into the driver's seat and started the engine. Neither agent looked back at the shocked group behind them as the two car convoy left the compound.
The Charming Police Department was officially closed. The last call answered by the dispatchers before the calls were forwarded to SJSD. The uniformed officers had clocked in for the end of their shift, turned in their sheilds and guns, and departed. The building was as silent as a tomb. Unser was the only occupant of the building. He was preparing for his role in the ambush. He'd just received a text from one of the prospects advising him the club was in custody and Stahl had moved out with Jimmy O'Phelan.
Unser removed his badge and laid it on his empty desk. The black mourning band for David Hale still covered the center of the shield. 'Your death is one of the few that can't be laid at Stahl's feet,' he thought. 'You'd never understand why this has to be done. You'd argue for letting the system work. Sometimes it doesn't work. This is one of those times.'
He withdrew an unregistered six shooter from the top drawer of his desk and laid his service revolver next to his badge. He exhaled heavily, then walked out of his office for the last time.
Unser tried not to let it bother him when he spied the row of parked CPD patrol vehicles in the lot. Those vehicles would be stripped of their light bars, sirens, on board computers and cameras and prisoner cages before being sold at auction along with the office furniture. He walked to his patrol car and settled behind the wheel.
He endured a moment of discomfort when his patrol car passed one of the SJSD vehicles assigned to Charming. The deputy inside merely saluted him.
"Don't pull over the CPD patrol car. It looks like Chief Unser's making one final patrol," the deputy announced over the police band.
Unser returned the gesture, smiling sardonically over the deputy's broadcast. "If you only knew, son!"
He turned towards the highway Stahl's convoy would take to deliver Jimmy O'Phelan to ATF headquarters. He drove at top speed until he managed to catch up with the two cars. He flipped on his light bar, then tooted the siren to get the Feds to pull over into the cleared area.
He quickly sent a message to Kozik's phone, then pocketed his cell phone and got out of his car to confront an annoyed Stahl. 'Here goes nothing!'
Stahl listened to his explanation and glanced at Mendes. She decided Unser's claim held merit and sent Mendes along in the other car with the other two agents to check it out. She'd stay behind with their captive.
Mendes wasn't sure that was a good idea. The other two could check things out. When Unser offered to stay with Stahl, he reluctantly agreed and slipped into the back seat of the lead Crown Vic.
Stahl leaned against the driver's side fender of Unser's patrol car. She was annoyed by the delay, yet appreciated Unser's caution in not using the radio. She knew that many members of the IRA had a habit of monitoring police broadcasts. Cameron Hayes had made that painfully clear.
Unser felt a wave of nausea that wasn't caused by his cancer meds. He reached into his shirt pocket, withdrew a pre - rolled joint, and lit it.
Stahl stared at him incredulously. 'I don't believe this! He lit up right in front of me!'
Unser grimly reminded her that he suffered from stage three cancer. She nodded understandably and turned her gaze away to allow him to smoke in peace. To her further surprise, Unser offered her a hit.
'Are you kidding?' She politely refused the offer with a wave of her hand and looked off in the direction her team had taken and spotted a yellow school bus rolling towards them. Stahl felt the first stirrings of unease. 'Why would a school bus appear in an area far from any school?'
Unser muttered that she might just need that hit as the bus came nearer. He shrugged and took another toke before extinguishing the joint to save it for later use.
The school bus pulled into the clearing, stopping beside Stahl's car. The bus was long enough to shield the parked vehicle from view of any possible by passers. Opie, Kozik, and Chibs bounded from the bus, armed with weapons.
Stahl turned to glare at Unser only to find herself staring at the business end of a silver revolver. It was then that she realized Unser wasn't wearing his badge.
Jimmy O'Phelan wasn't alarmed when Mendes stated that Unser was following them, nor when the car pulled over on the opposite side of the road into a wide clearing. He didn't even feel apprehensive when Mendes left in the lead car, leaving Stahl with Unser.
'Unser moost've warned 'em o'sum kinda roadblock or ambush. Stahl jist sent 'er bhoys ahaid ta check it oot!' Jimmy was content to sit and wait, watching the approach of a school bus. 'Whot in 'Ell?' He asked himself when the bus pulled up next to the squad car. He knew that Hell had come to him when Kozik, Opie, and Chibs exited the bus with guns drawn.
Jimmy squinted up at Chibs as he opened the passenger side rear door. His long time nemesis looked grim and determined as he hauled Jimmy from the car and up against the side of the bus.
The two adversaries stared at each other for a moment. Calm acceptance of his fate fell over Jimmy. 'Ifn Chibs expects me ta beg an' plead, 'e's gut anuther think comin'!' Jimmy was ready to die, and couldn't resist taunting his foe one last time by telling him to look out for their girls.
Jimmy stood tall and proud against the back of the bus, waiting for Chibs to end his life. Chibs was wearing Kevlar, and had two knives holstered to his sides. Chibs reached up with his arms crossed over his chest and withdrew the knives. In one fluid motion, he slashed Jimmy's cheeks, giving the Irishman the very same 'Glasgow smile' he'd bestowed upon Chibs many years earlier.
Jimmy grimaced with pain, but otherwise remained quiet. It was ironic justice that Chibs would first mark him the same way he'd been marked. He waited for the final blow, which wasn't long in coming. Chibs stabbed Jimmy in the chest, bearing down with all his might on the knife, driving it deeply into his foe's heart.
Jimmy felt his knees begin to buckle. He slowly sank to the ground while Chibs continued to drive the blade into him. Blood backed up into his mouth as his vision grew dim.
Chibs retracted the blade and watched as Jimmy's body sank face forward into the dirt. He watched until the death throes came to an end and a dark pool of blood seeped into the dirt beneath Jimmy's body.
While Chibs was getting his revenge on Jimmy, Opie led a sobbing Stahl to the driver's seat of her car. Stahl begged and pleaded with Opie to reconsider his intentions. Opie silently opened the driver's door and forced her to sit behind the steering wheel. He silently and firmly closed the driver's door, opened the rear door and slid onto the seat directly behind Stahl. He kept the AK - 47 trained on the agent the entire time.
He noticed a file folder laying on the seat beside him, but momentarily ignored it. His focus was on the sobbing, pleading agent. Her pleas for another chance, begging him to show mercy to her one more time fell on deaf ears.
When Opie spoke, his voice was low and emotionless. The tone made the blood chill in Stahl's veins. She hesitantly obeyed his command to put her hands on the wheel and steeled herself for what was coming.
The pain was brief as the bullets entered the back of her head, blowing out the front of her skull and splattering the windshield with blood, bits of grey matter, and bone. Her head dropped limply upon the steering wheel.
Opie remained still in the back seat of the car. He felt nothing. No relief, no vindication, no sense of justice. All he felt was numb. Then he remembered the all important blue folder lying on the seat next to him. He picked it up and opened the door to get out of the death car. He scanned the contents of the folder, making sure it contained Jax's statement about the Irish Kings.
Kozik was getting antsy. 'This is takin' too long! Stahl's team could be back anytime! They can't find us here!' He glared from the motionless Chibs to Opie before telling them to get moving.
Opie nodded and assured Kozik the folder contained Jax's statement. He easily tore it in half and stuck it inside his cut. He'd burn it when they returned the bus to the reservation. The Irish Kings would be safe from Federal interference.
Kozik walked up to Unser, who turned to present the side of his face that hadn't recently had dental work performed. Kozik threw a punch into Unser's face, sending the former police chief sprawling against the hood of his car.
"Sorry, chief. I pulled my punch," Kozik muttered apologetically.
"Yeah. Thanks," Unser replied dubiously. 'If that was a pulled punch, I'd hate to feel the whole thing!'
Kozik and Opie boarded the bus while Chibs attended to one last piece of business. He pulled out a rag, dipped it in Jimmy's blood, and made a cross enclosed in a circle on the back window, marking the scene as an IRA hit.
Chibs tossed the rag into the dirt next to Jimmy's body. As a final act of hatred for the man, Chibs spat a large doobie on the ground before he boarded the bus. 'Ah shulda spat on 'is boddy, boot cannae layve ennnythin' tha'll lead back ta tha cloob!'
"You gonna be OK?" Piney called out to Unser.
"Yeah. I'll take care of things from here," Unser replied, holding a hand against his sore cheek. "Get outta here!"
Piney nodded and closed the door. Then he started the bus and drove away from the scene.
Unser used his feet to cover the bus' tire tracks. The ground was so dry that the track were easily covered with fresh dirt. So was the wad of spit that Chibs had left. By the time Federal CSI's got to the scene, the wad of gunk would be well compromised, provided any of the investigators were able to find it.
Satisfied he'd done everything he could to compromise the crime scene, Unser lowered himself to the ground next to his squad car. He positioned himself as if he'd been knocked to the ground by the blow to his face and rendered unconscious. All he had to do was wait for the agents to return.
"ATF base to Agent Carey!"
Jonas keyed the mic to acknowledge the call. "Carey here."
"Some of Agent Stahl's team just reported in from the field. They brought in Viktor Putlova, four of his minions, and quite a load of counterfeit cash," the dispatcher announced.
"Was Stahl with the team?"
"No sir. Just the paddy wagon drivers. Another paddy wagon was sent to Charming, and is now on its' way to Stockton Prison with several members of the Sons of Anarchy in custody for Federal weapons charges," the dispatcher explained.
"Where the Hell is Stahl?" Carey snapped.
"On her way back to headquarters with Jimmy O'Phelan in custody," the dispatched stated.
"We're on the way," Carey replied. He was relieved that his team wouldn't have to face down Stahl after all. It'd be a lot easier to take her into custody at headquarters than out in the field. 'I just hope the supervisors don't have a change of heart just because she's landed a few big fish!'
He keyed his portable radio and announced the change of plans to his team. The caravan turned onto the same two lane highway that Stahl's small convoy had taken. It was the quickest way back to headquarters.
Ally and Lyla eventually persuaded Gemma to allow the lawyer to take her home. "I'll follow in my car and stay with you so you won't be alone," Lyla assured her.
"I want to be with Abel!" Gemma retorted.
"Gemma, you can't go to Jax's house now, you have to be home by a certain time!" Ally reminded her.
Lyla glanced at Tara, who shrugged and nodded her head. "You can have him overnight if you want," the doctor replied.
"Yes, please," Gemma stated.
"Sure. I'm going home anyway; I'll have Neda bring him over," Tara replied. She was starting to feel exhausted from the events of the day and her part in them. She needed some private time. Having Abel visit his grandmother would give her the time she needed to recover. It would also be therapeutic for Gemma.
The women departed to their cars without speaking to Chuckie or the mechanics. They hadn't even noticed that Miles and Phil had left right after the paddy wagon and the agents' cars had departed.
Chuckie sighed and walked back into the office. He still couldn't believe what had happened. Questions swam in his head like a swarm of piranhas after a fresh meal. 'How is the club going to get by on three patched members? How long will Tig and the others be away? Is Kozik going to stick around?'
He shook his head to clear it and tried to concentrate on the paperwork requiring his attention. The business had to continue, despite Gemma's and Clay's absence. They would rely on him to keep things running smoothly. He heard the murmurings of the mechanics as they worked in their bays. They were just as upset as he, if their unanswered questions were any indication.
Chuckie quit all pretense of concentrating on business tasks when he thought about Cat. She hadn't been present when the shit hit the fan! 'What's Miss Cat gonna think when she finds out?' He reached out to the phone in order to call her with the news. "What the Hell am I thinking? This isn't the kind of thing she should hear over the phone! Someone ought to be with her!"
He decided to close up the office and talk one of the mechanics into giving him a ride. It didn't matter if he'd have to walk all the way back to the compound later. He wanted to support the only other friend he'd made in Charming.
He looked outside the open office door at the sound of four Harley engines racing into the compound. 'Maybe one of them can take me over to Miss Cat's; if they don't mind taking me in the van!' He rushed outside to greet them, waiting anxiously for them to park their bikes and dismount. "I've got bad news for you guys!" He announced.
"We already know, Chuckie," Piney stated tiredly.
"You do? Can somebody fill me in?"
"Not now, Chuckie. Maybe later," Piney replied. "I need a drink."
"We could all use one," Kozik agreed.
"Ah'll joyne ye later," Chibs stated. "Ah've gotta tell Lady Cat aboot 'er mon."
"I accept that!" Chuckie sighed in relief.
"Oh ye do, eh?" Chibs snorted.
"Yeah," the unofficial mascot stated. "I was gonna have one of the mechanics take me over to tell her in person. This isn't the kind of thing you tell a friend by phone."
"Aye, thot's true," Chibs nodded. He realized that Chuckie cared as much for his heart sister as he did. "Ah'll tayke ye wi' me. Guess we'll tayke tha' van."
"I accept that!" Chuckie cried, racing to the office to lock the door to the garage and the office door. "I'm ready!"
"Go an' tell tha udders yer goin'," Chibs advised, pointing at the clubhouse.
"I accept that!" Chuckie trotted to the entrance and vanished inside.
"It's about time ya got in here!" Kozik barked. "We're dryer than dust!"
"You'll have to serve yourselves, guys! Chibs is taking me to Lady Cat's. She still doesn't know!" Chuckie retorted. "See ya!" He turned and ran out of the clubhouse.
"Oh, shit!" Kozik moaned. "I'm gonna have to go myself. Need to brief my own old lady!"
Piney shrugged and walked behind the bar. It didn't matter to him if he drank alone or not. He grabbed a bottle of tequila for himself and whiskey for his son.
Kozik followed Chuckie out of the clubhouse. He watched the club's gofer clamor into the passenger seat of the van and waved as the van pulled away from the clubhouse. He strapped on his helmet and mounted his bike. It was hard not to notice the row of bikes that waited for riders who wouldn't be riding for months to come.
He started his bike and left the compound. The matter of the incarcerated members' bikes would wait another day.
Phil and Miles slipped away from the group watching in shock as the six patched members were loaded into the paddy wagon. They waited until the Federal vehicles left the compound to race from the parking lot. No one noticed their departure.
They caught up with the paddy wagon and stayed a discreet distance behind it, making certain they weren't visible in the truck's rear view mirrors. They glanced at each other from time to time as they waited for the signal.
It was difficult to ride side by side without letting their bikes drift into the area where the paddy wagon's rear view mirrors would reflect their presence. Neither Miles nor Phil were used to riding in any kind of formation, but they were determined to ride like Sons.
Miles' burner vibrated in his inner cut pocket. He reached inside with his left hand and flipped it open to reveal a text from Kozik. "It's done."
Miles closed the cell phone and returned it to his pocket. He turned his face towards Phil and nodded once. Both bikes picked up speed and merged into the lane next to the paddy wagon. The riders honked their horns as they rode next to the paddy wagon for a few minutes.
The agent riding in the passenger seat glanced into the rear view window as the two Harleys pulled into the lane next to the wagon. "We've got company!" He advised his partner.
"Who?"
"Looks like a couple of asswipes on motorcycles. Think they're with that club. They're wearing cuts."
The driver snorted in derision. "As if two of them can overpower us!"
A bark of laughter from one of the prisoners caught the first agent by surprise. He glanced over his shoulder to find the dark haired, bearded outlaw wearing the Sergeant at Arms patch smiling sardonically,. In fact, all the prisoners, including the blond that the prisoners were originally mad at mere minutes earlier were chuckling.
"What the Fuck is goin' on back there?"
"I don't know," his partner replied. "They're laughing it up like somebody told a rank joke and all's forgiven between them."
The two Harleys tooted their horns one more time, then passed the paddy wagon. The riders merged into the paddy wagon's lane, staying several feet ahead. Both riders then raised the middle fingers of their left hands into the air before speeding away.
"Assholes!" The driver muttered.
Clay heard the comment and smiled in satisfaction. "The prospects just flipped off the Feds," he informed his crew. There was more joyous laughter. The plan had worked. Stahl and Jimmy O were dead and the club was still united.
"How far have we gone?" Mendes inquired from the back seat. So far, the agents hadn't found any evidence of an ambush, and no place along the road where a group could wage such an endeavor.
The driver looked down at the odometer. "Maybe 15 miles or so."
"I don't like this," Mendes muttered to himself. He tried calling Stahl to find out if they should keep searching. "Maybe the tip was a fake."
"Wouldn't surprise me; you know how these local yokels can be!" The driver scoffed. "Always wanting a piece of our action!"
Mendes frowned in consternation. Stahl's cellphone went to voice mail. That wasn't like her. "Stahl didn't answer her phone. I've got a real bad feeling about this. We need to go back!"
The driver picked up on Mendes' apprehension and made a rapid, tight U - turn. He placed the red bubble on top of the hood and flipped on the siren, racing at top speed to the spot where they'd left Stahl and Unser.
The Crown Vic pulled to a dusty stop to a scene of horrendous carnage. All three agents gasped at the grisly spatter of blood and other matter on the windshield of the Crown Victoria.
They cautiously got out of their cars with their guns drawn and ready for use. They surveyed the area to insure there was no one lying in wait to ambush them. Once assured of their safety, the driver rushed to Jimmy's body while the other agent ran to check Unser's vital signs.
That left Mendes with the grisly task of checking the body in the driver's seat, which he knew would be Stahl's. He fought back a rush of nausea as he approached the car. 'Man up! You've seen plenty of nasty murder scenes before!'
However, none of those murder scenes, save for Tyler the day before, involved someone he knew. That made it a lot harder. He opened the driver's door, swallowing back the urge to throw up at the sight of the fatal wound to the back of Stahl's head. He didn't want to see her face; the bullet would've blown her face off - or at least the top half of it.
The coppery smell of blood filled his nostrils, intensifying his gastrointestinal distress. He put two fingers to the side of Stahl's throat, looking in vain for a pulse that didn't exist.
"Stahl's dead!" He called hoarsely, lowering his weapon to his side.
"So's O'Phelan!" The other agent called.
"Unser's alive!" The driver cried, helping the former police chief sit up.
Unser groaned, allowing the agent to move his body into a sitting position. The agent maneuvered Unser until he was leaning against the front tire of his patrol car.
Mendes raised his portable radio and turned it to the 'public' channel. "Mendes to base. Officer down! Officer down! Send the coroner and an investigative team. I repeat, Stahl is down and dead on scene!"
"Copy, Mendes," the dispatcher replied in a matter of fact tone. "Secure the scene as usual."
"Ten - four," he replied automatically. His mind was running on auto - pilot, his years of training and experience taking over from his emotional pain.
Carey heard the broadcast in the vehicle he was riding in. "Shit! Move it!" He cried to the driver. It was an automatic response. Hurrying to the scene wouldn't change anything. Stahl was dead. She would never answer to the agency for her crimes. All he could do now was conduct the initial investigation.
"We'll be there shortly," his driver replied calmly. "You might want to inform HQ where we're going."
Carey nodded and lifted the speaker from its' holder. He keyed the mic and announced, "This is Carey. My team is nearly at the scene. We'll conduct the initial investigation."
"Copy that," the dispatcher replied.
Unser shook his head, wincing in pain from the blow Kozik had delivered. "Anybody get the number of the truck that hit me?" He muttered.
"Don't try to talk, Chief," the agent assisting him replied. "Save your strength for later."
"Can somebody get an ice pack for me?"
"Do you carry one in your trunk?" The agent gestured for the keys.
"Sorry. All that shit was taken out of my car earlier today," Unser explained.
"Oh, yeah. Sorry," the agent walked back to the car he'd ridden in, bypassing Stahl's vehicle and the carnage inside. He opened the trunk and removed an ice pack from the first aid kit. He activated it and grabbed a lukewarm bottle of water, carrying both back to the injured man.
"Thanks," Unser accepted the offerings, placing the ice pack against his throbbing jaw. He cradled the bottle in the crook of his arm to unscrew the cap with his other hand. The water might've been tepid, but it felt good running down his parched throat.
He remembered to sip slowly, so the water wouldn't come back up. He puked often enough from his cancer meds. 'It's a good thing I didn't check through Salazar's car earlier! Those Feds would've confiscated anything I had on me!'
One of the agents had picked up the silver six shooter he'd tossed near the car before he'd assumed his prone position. He wasn't worried about it being traced back to him. He'd wiped it clean of his prints and the serial number had been filed off. Being around Gemma so many years had taught him a lot.
The agents were gathered in a tight group, whispering to each other and ignoring him for the moment. None of them noticed that he wasn't wearing his badge. Unser sighed and closed his eyes, more than willing to rest and gather energy for the inquisition to come.
RJ Payne was ready for his live report. He stood in front of the now abandoned CPD headquarters. He had decided to use it as the backdrop to his part of the follow up. He touched the earpiece sticking in his ear while all manner of chaos erupted in the newsroom.
"Somebody try to confirm that report!" He heard Windover yell in his ear.
"What's goin' on?" Payne asked into the microphone.
"Stand by!" The director advised tersely.
"OK." Payne shrugged. He studied his pre written intro while he waited. Only five minutes remained to air time for the first newscast of the evening. He had everything prepared and felt confident about the story. The only missing piece was whether they'd announce Stahl's arrest. 'Maybe that's what all the fuss and furor's about,' he mused.
"Pack it up, Payne!" The director barked. "You're not doing your stand up there!"
The cameraman immediately turned off the camera and returned it to the carry case. Payne tossed the microphone to him and lifted his portable radio to his mouth. "Unit one to base. What's going on?"
"You're getting reassigned," Windover replied, giving the reporter the location he'd be broadcasting from. "Stahl's been killed."
"Shoot out with Internal Affairs?" Payne inquired while he climbed into the news van's passenger seat.
"No," the assignment editor explained the breaking news one of the producers had managed to independently confirm. "We're still going with the investigation into Stahl's alleged misconduct, but that's separate from her murder."
"Holy shit! Are we the only ones on this?" Payne asked. He felt the familiar rush that always came over him when he covered a major breaking story.
"For the moment. The competition will be on this like flies on manure. We're still the only ones with the IAD bit. Get set up as soon as you can, and if you can get any of the Feds on camera, do so. We'll cut to you the minute you're ready."
The news van rounded a curve and pulled to a stop behind the yellow crime scene tape. Nearly the entire shoulder was blocked off, which suited Payne. 'It'll make it harder for the other reporters to find a place to park and set up, unless the road gets blocked off!'
Payne and his camera man jumped out of the van as soon as it stopped. The cameraman began setting up while Payne approached the tape.
Mendes looked up at the sound of doors slamming and narrowed his eyes in frustration at the sight of the news crew. "Vultures descending already!" He growled, advancing angrily towards the reporter. "Stay behind the tape!" He ordered the reporter.
"I will. Care to give us a statement? We know one of the victims is Agent Stahl," Payne retorted. The cameraman rushed up and handed the microphone to Payne. The reporter thrust it in front of Mendes' face.
"I can not confirm the identity of the agent at this time," Mendes' stated in a rote manner.
"We already know it's Agent Stahl. You announced it on the radio!" Payne insisted.
"But you can't use that on air!" Mendes taunted. It was known by law enforcement that reporters couldn't quote information broadcast over police scanners without getting confirmation.
Payne didn't appreciate the agent's lack of co - operation. He only had a few seconds to get that needed confirmation before he went on air. He felt the agent was being deliberately obtuse. He struggled to keep from smiling maliciously. Payne knew the cameraman was rolling tape when the agent made his comment, giving confirmation that what had been broadcast was accurate.
Sensing an opportunity, Payne leaned over the police line and asked, "Were you aware that your own Internal Affairs was going to arrest Stahl for the murder of Agent Tyler yesterday?"
Mendes' face turned white as a sheet. He didn't know, and he couldn't believe it. 'But why else would Carey get here so quickly? Stahl had us on radio silence! She was the only one in contact with headquarters! Was that the reason for the silence?'
Payne smiled vindictively. Though the agent hadn't spoken a word, his expression spoke volumes to the seasoned reporter. "The station turned over a letter written by Agent Tyler before she was killed. We turned it over to your IAD this morning," Payne added.
"N - no comment!" Mendes stuttered, backing away from the reporter.
"Payne!" Windover hissed in the reporter's ear through the earpiece. "Quit messing with that agent! Carey is the IAD agent you need to interview. Get him over to talk to you. We're in commercial, so you don't have much time!"
Agent Carey looked up at the same moment the Channel 2 van arrived on the scene. He'd started toward the tape but Mendes moved first to turn the reporter away.
'This isn't going to be good!' Carey thought to himself. He witnessed Mendes' face turn white and the agent stagger away from the reporter. 'He just found out about Stahl! Damn!'
Carey knew it was inevitable that Stahl's team would find out about their leader. He'd hoped to break it to the agents a little more gently. He sighed and advanced towards the reporter. "I'm Carey. You're from Windover's station, aren't you?"
"Care to give us a statement?" Payne acknowledged.
"I don't have much choice," Carey grumbled.
"Stand by!" The cameraman announced, holding up one hand and doing a count down. He had a two shot of the reporter and agent framed in the center of his lens, while the ghastly death car could be seen in the background.
The news anchor had just announced an advisory that some of the images might not be appropriate for some viewers. The cameraman pointed at Payne.
"Federal agents are on the scene of a grisly ambush a few miles outside Charming in San Joaquin county. Minutes ago, Agent Jonas Carey of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms arrived on the scene. Agent Carey, can you tell us what happened here?"
Payne turned so that he faced Carey, who was still standing behind the crime scene tape. Carey took a deep breath and replied, "From what we've gathered so far from the lone survivor, an unknown group of assailants ambushed Agent Stahl and former Charming Police Chief Wayne Unser. The assailants killed Agent Stahl and her prisoner, James O'Phelan."
"Why was Chief Unser not killed?" Payne inquired.
"He was knocked unconscious by the assailants," Carey explained. "They apparently believed he couldn't identify them."
"He's very lucky, then," Payne stated. "Is there any possibility this is related to Stahl's claim that Mexican bikers killed her partner, a claim that has since been determined false?"
"You're referring to the letter Agent Tyler wrote to your assignment editor," Carey replied tersely. "That is an avenue that will be investigated. At this time, we feel confident that there are no such Hispanic suspects involved in Agent Tyler's slaying."
"Ask him about the IRA," Windover's voice boomed in the reporter's ear. He'd had the wide screen image of the back of Stahl's car enhanced and saw the bloody emblem on the back window. "Their sign is drawn in someone's blood on the back window."
"It appears that the assailants left their calling card on the back window of that car," Payne observed, pointing beyond Carey to the back window.
Carey moved so that his body blocked the camera's view of the car. "Somebody get a sheet up over that back window now!" He called out over his shoulder.
Payne turned his head from the camera to hide his triumphant grin. The damage was already done, and Channel 2 had the exclusive.
Carey turned his flushed face back to the camera. "I have nothing more to say at this time," he growled and turned his back on the news team.
Payne wiped the smile off his face and turned back to face the camera. "If you're just tuning in, Channel 2 has learned that Agent June Stahl has been murdered, possibly by the IRA which left a tell tale message in blood on the victim's car.
"Stahl's prisoner, the notorious Irish gun runner James O'Phelan, was also killed, lending further credence to the possibility that the IRA was involved. Former Charming Police Chief Wayne Unser, who was also present on the scene, was injured but not killed."
The studio went into the pre - recorded story Payne had transmitted from Charming earlier, which included the details of Tyler's letter. Payne watched out of the corner of his eye to see if he could wave Unser over for an interview. To his disgust, the former police chief was surrounded by Feds.
"We'll remain here to gather more on the story and keep you up to date throughout the evening," Payne stated, wrapping up his part of the team segment. "This is RJ Payne, reporting live for Channel 2."
"And we're out!" The cameraman stated.
"Good job!" Windover praised the reporter. "See if you can get Unser to talk to you. We've recorded your stand up, and will use it until you have something new."
Payne was relieved by Windover's comment. The biggest problem with reporting live from the scene was that some stations would return for live updates before every commercial break. That made the job of gathering fresh information for the next standup difficult. Windover was willing to give his reporter the time he needed to get more details, and Payne wasn't going to waste the opportunity.
Jax relaxed against the wall of the paddy wagon, still smiling over the completion of the plan. The prospects had ridden on away and would be returning to Charming to delive the letters he'd written to his mother and Tara. The letters explained what had happened and why they'd been left in the dark.
He stared intently at Tig, wondering what steps, if any, the SAA had taken to inform his own old lady. 'I sure hope he didn't leave her in the dark to hear about it from Ally! Cat deserves better!'
Tig glared back at the VP. He knew what the other man was thinking and resented it. Unable to tolerate Jax's scrutiny any longer, he growled, "Not that it's any of your business, junior; I've made sure my old lady gets the intel!"
"As you should have," Jax observed dryly.
"This isn't the kind of thing she needs to hear from the grapevine."
"She won't!" Tig snorted.
"Take it easy, boys," Clay interjected. "We don't need to be at odds with each other!"
"We won't be as long as Junior keeps his nose outta my business!" Tig snarled.
Jax shook his head. "For the life of me, I can't understand what Cat sees in ya!"
"Not your concern!" Tig grumbled.
"Cut it out, Jax!" Clay snapped. "Quit yankin' Tig's chain about his old lady!"
Jax shrugged and cross his arms over his chest. "Man, people think my relationship with Tara is whacked!"
Clay leaned forward, gesturing for his crew to listen closely so that the agents in the cab wouldn't overhear. Once the others complied, he stated softly, "I'm serious about this, men! There's a very strong possibility that we could be separated inside. Instead of messin' with each other's heads, we need to discuss how to stay whole over the next 14 months."
That news sobered them as effectively as an ice cold shower. The thought that they might only see each other in the exercise yard and mealtimes had been present, but they'd not really thought about it. Now it was the proverbial 800 pound gorilla in the wagon with them.
"I started working on gettin' us protection, but it's not finalized. If we get separated, there's a strong probability that our cell mates won't be on our side."
"That means sleepin' with one eye open," Tig noted grimly.
"Shit!" Juice moaned.
"I always do," Happy shrugged.
"Beats endin' up in a body bag," Bobby added.
"It'll only be necessary until we get protection," Clay assured them. "Unlike SJCCF, no one's gonna have to take one in the ass for the club, whether we're separated or not."
"Guess we'll know soon enough," Jax stated quietly, pointing towards the wire enclosed portal separating them from the cab.
The club turned their gazes towards that opening. Looming ahead of them in the windshield was the austere enclosure of Stockton Prison.
Unser was exhausted. His jaw ached more from talking than from Kozik's punch. He'd given his statement first to Agent Mendes, then again to one of the ATF's IAD agents. Unser was careful to keep from deviating from his prepared story, so he wouldn't arouse anyone's suspicions.
The ice pack had given him some relief, but it had turned into warm liquid a long time ago. 'I'd give my left nut for a couple of aspirins!' He mused.
Unser had moved from the ground to his cruiser under the watchful eye of the Feds and the Channel 2 news crew. Within minutes of Payne's broadcast, reporters and camera operators from the area had descended on the scene, causing the Sheriff's department to close the highway in both directions about a mile from the crime scene. News vans lined the roadway in either direction, though none of them had gotten as close as Channel 2.
Unser explained several times why he wasn't wearing his badge when he flagged down Stahl. 'I would've thought the news was all over the area! Apparently they don't read the local papers!' He could nearly repeat the story in his sleep, and was finding it difficult to keep from nodding off as the investigation continued.
The coroner's vehicle arrived while the investigators worked the crime scene. They took pictures and gathered evidence, dusting for fingerprints, taking soil and fluid samples, and scoured the area for any other bits and pieces of evidence that might help them.
Stahl's team was devastated. Not just by her death, but by the news that she'd killed her partner and tried to blame the bad shoot in Galt on Tyler.
As soon as Mendes walked away from the reporter, Carey's partner stopped the agent from joining the team.
"Is it true?" Mendes whispered.
"You'll have to ask Agent Carey," the IAD agent replied sympathetically.
Mendes pounced on Carey as soon as the IAD investigator walked away from the Channel 2 reporter.
"Yes. Tyler wrote to that reporter's boss, and we found a copy of the duty roster for the Hayes stake out the day Edmond was killed," Carey explained quietly. "I need to take your statement."
"Can't it wait?" Mendes growled angrily.
"I'm afraid not. My men are keeping you separate from your team so we can interview you individually and you can't pre - plan your answers. I know she was your leader, and you may feel some loyalty to her -"
"Stop right there!" Mendes interjected. "She was our leader, but if you're implying that we'd cover for her, you're wrong!"
"That's what I intend to find out," Carey replied grimly, leading the agent to his car. He indicated Mendes should sit in the center of the back seat while he set up the mini camera on the dashboard.
"This is Jonas Carey, investigator with the ATF Internal Affairs Division," he stated into the camera's lens. "I will be off camera conducting this interview, as it is taking place at the scene of the murder of Agent June Stahl."
Carey then explained that he was interviewing Agent Mendes, who was a member of Stahl's team and asked Mendes to give his full name.
"Were you assigned to the Hayes home in Galt the day that Edmond Hayes was killed?"
"I was." Mendes answered crisply.
"Was Agent Tyler working anywhere near or inside that house that day?"
"She was off that day," Mendes stated.
"Did your report reflect that?"
"No reason why it should. I listed in my report all the team members present when the incident occurred. Tyler's name wasn't included because she wasn't there."
"You're absolutely positive of this?" Carey inquired.
"Yes sir. The first we knew of the shooting was when Stahl broadcast the status update citing Gemma Morrow had killed both Edmond Hayes and Polly Zobelle."
"You are aware that this broadcast was a falsehood on Stahl's part?"
Mendes cleared his throat. "I wasn't aware of that until recently."
"How recent?"
"Tyler was upset when Morrow gave her statement to the US Attorney, naming her as the shooter," Mendes explained.
"How did that come out?" Carey asked.
"I overheard Tyler and Stahl discussing it in the hallway. They didn't know I was there. I thought it was strange that Morrow would put the onus on Tyler when she off that day. Stahl was trying to reassure her, but Tyler was too upset to be placated."
"Why didn't you report the discrepancy?" Carey asked.
"I did. To my superior."
"Agent Stahl."
Mendes nodded.
"I need a verbal response, Agent Mendes."
"Yes! I reported it to Stahl, she told me not to worry about it, that she would take care of it. Then the team got a tip about Jimmy O'Phelan's right hand man, Lucas, and the team apprehended him. From there, we lost track of Morrow for awhile, then Tyler was killed yesterday, supposedly by Mexican bikers."
"Another claim put out by Agent Stahl," Carey announced.
"Yes. We were separated at the scene. Stahl and Tyler were with some Charming PD cops. Next thing we know, the hostage situation is over, then shots were fired from the back of the building and Stahl was screaming for help."
"Was an on site investigation conducted?"
"Yes," Mendes stated. "We found one bullet casing, but no sign of any fresh tire tracks or any other evidence indicating a shoot out had occurred. We did recover a gun, which was turned over to ballistics."
"So to the best of your knowledge, Agent Tyler never fired a gun at the house in Galt," Carey stated, suddenly switching gears from the Charming incident to Galt again.
"Yes, sir. As I stated, Tyler was off." Mendes insisted.
"Did you know that Tyler and Stahl were romantically involved?"
"No sir. They behaved professionally during work hours. Whatever they did off hours was their own business."
"That will be all, Agent Mendes. Do not discuss this with your fellow team mates until further notice."
Mendes got out of the back seat and walked away, keeping his back on the activity beyond Agent Carey's car. He was appalled by the investigation into Stahl's actions. 'I should've realized something was wrong with her all those months ago when she strong armed the Winston family!'
He'd questioned her tactics when they brought the Winstons into ATF HQ against their will. Stahl claimed they were going into 'Witpro', yet Opie Winston had been unwilling to cooperate as a witness. His wife had been just as stubborn. That wasn't the behavior of witnesses being willing to put their lives on the line to testify against a criminal element.
Stahl had told him to mind his own business and let her handle it. Then she shut him out of the loop. A few days after the Winstons were released, Donna Winston was killed in a drive by shooting, possibly gang related.
'Could Stahl's actions at that time have led to Donna Winston's death? She authorized payments to clear the past due mortgage and give the Winstons' a nest egg. Would that have been discovered by the club and led them to think Winston had turned rat?'
Then there was the sudden 'tip' she'd received that led to the arrest of Jimmy O'Phelan's right hand man, Lucas. Tyler had been present for that arrest, but she didn't look pleased about it. 'Did she know something then? Is that when Stahl decided to remove her from the equation so she wouldn't spill the beans?'
Despite his doubts about her handling of the Winstons, Mendes had looked up to Stahl. To learn that she was dirty hit him in the gut. He glanced back at the car where Carey was leading another member of the team for questioning. 'Guess I won't be the only one feeling this way before the night's out.'
"What's the matter with you?" Piney asked his son, who was sitting in a chair at a table, staring off into space. The bottle of whiskey remained unopened in front of him.
Opie shifted in his chair to gaze at his father. "I dunno, Pop."
Piney threw back a slug of tequila and set the bottle down with a thud. "Shit! I would've thought you'd be happier than a three handed man in a tit grabbin' contest!"
Opie's smile looked more like a grimace of pain. "Nice way of puttin' it, Pop." He sighed, opened the whiskey bottle, and poured a shot. "You're right. I should be happy. I just feel numb."
Piney sighed and pushed his tequila bottle aside. "You got retribution for Donna. That has to mean somethin'!"
"It does, but I just can't drum up anything close to a celebratory mood."
Piney didn't understand his son. If someone had hurt Mary, despite their long separation, he'd take them out and dance the cha - cha on their grave!
"Am I movin' too fast with Lyla?" Opie asked suddenly.
"Do you think you are?"
Opie shrugged. "I dunno. I like her a lot. She'd great with the kids. God knows she relates to 'em better than I do."
"It's only been a few months since Donna died, son. Is that what's botherin' ya?"
Opie shrugged.
"Look, Son. A man's not meant to be alone. Women will carry a torch forever; that's why some women remain widows so long. Ya got a good girl in Lyla. Ya could do a lot worse."
"I know, Pop. She obviously loves me. It just bugs me that she's a porn star."
"Hurts your pride, more likely!" Piney scoffed, taking another swig from the tequila bottle. He smacked his lips and added, "No man likes sharin' his pussy, even if it's only on film."
Opie shoved his chair away from the table. "That's kinda hard, Pop!"
"Then it must be true, Son," Piney stated calmly. "Otherwise ya wouldn't be reactin' like that."
"Shit! I'm outta here!" Opie stormed out the door towards his parked bike.
Piney lifted the tequila bottle in a salute. He might not always understand his son's way of thinking, but he knew that his words had hit home. 'I reckon he'll take a long ride to think things out. Maybe a long engagement would be a good idea.'
Cat was just finishing her cool down stretches when she heard a vehicle pull into the drive. Her heart leapt with joy; she thought Alex had gotten home earlier than he'd anticipated. Then her heart fell when she realized that the vehicle wasn't a Harley. She rushed out the gate and stopped short when she saw Chuckie and Chibs climbing out of the van.
"Oh, it's just you two," she stated disappointedly.
"Surry ta disappoint ye, Lady Cat. We kin tha' ye were expectin' Teeg," Chibs replied.
"Yeah. Must be a bit of a let down to find us instead!" Chuckie added.
Chibs elbowed the club mascot in the side, causing Chuckie to yelp.
"It's all right, guys. Sorry to have sounded disappointed when I saw y'all. I'm really happy to see you!"
"Boot ye'd be 'appier ifn ye were seein' Teeg," Chibs replied, his eyes twinkled mischievously.
"True, but I won't hold it against you," she replied. She felt herself grow more tense over their unexpected visit. 'Why would they be here unless somethin's happened to him?'
Chibs could tell she was concerned, but trying not to give in to her more 'female' behaviors. "Relax, darlin'. E's hole, boot 'e isnae gonna be hoom fer awhile."
She gazed inquiringly at her friend. Chibs reached into his inner cut pocket, removed the small cassette recorder, and placed it in her hand, covering it with both of his. "Ye'll wanna lissen ta this in private. We'll wayte in tha' hoose."
"OK," she replied absently. As the two men headed towards the back door, she added, "I think Misty's inside, and help yourselves to somethin' to wet your whistles."
"I accept that!" Chuckie grinned, trotting into the back yard behind Chibs.
Cat stood in the driveway, clutching the tape recorder in her hand. Something drew her to the Challenger. She climbed into the front seat and shut the door. The car smelled reassuringly of their last encounter. Cat took a deep, steadying breath, then pressed the play button and set the machine on the dash.
"Chief Unser!"
The pain wracked and tired former police chief looked up at the equally fatigued Federal IAD investigator. Unser was sitting in the passenger seat of his cruise with his head back against the seat. The pain in his jaw had settled into a dull throb.
"Still here," he sighed.
Agent Carey grinned ruefully. "Appreciate your patience, Chief. I needed to get statements from Stahl's team before I could take yours."
"I don't understand what you're talking about. Is that some kind of national secret?"
"No, it's not a secret. It's already been all over the airwaves," Carey replied grimly. "Kinda hard to keep something like this under wraps anyway."
Unser got out of the cruiser and closed the door, staring at the agent. 'The man's babbling like a brook! Wonder what's going on?'
"Follow me, please," Carey motioned for the former law officer to follow him to his sedan. Unser slid into the back seat while the IAD investigator resumed his place in the front passenger area.
"Is that cannabis I smell?" Carey inquired sharply, wrinkling his nose in distate.
"Yeah. I blew a doobie," Unser admitted. "I'm a stage three cancer survivor, the pot keeps me from barfing all over the place. I have a medical card if you want to see it."
"That's not necessary," Carey replied hastily. He started the video recorder and gave the same introduction he'd given several times over. "I am now taking Charming Police Chief Wayne Unser's statement pertaining to the death of Agent June Stahl."
"Um, technically, I'm the former chief now," Unser stated.
"I beg your pardon?"
"CPD ceased to exist at 5pm this evening. That's why I'm not wearing my badge," Unser explained, pointing to the bare spot on his uniform where his badge used to lay. 'That takes care of that problem right out of the starting gate!'
"Oh, yeah. I heard about that," Carey stammered. "For our purposes, though, I'll refer to you as Chief."
"Fine," Unser replied.
"Please explain how you became involved in this situation, Chief Unser," Carey resumed his professional delivery.
Unser took a deep breath and repeated the statement he'd given to the first responders. "Just after CPD shut down, I received a call on my cell phone. It was an anonymous tip that some of Jimmy O'Phelan's people intended to hijack the convoy and free him."
"Why did the tipster call your cell phone?"
"I asked the caller that same question. The tipster stated that the CPD lines were being answered at Sanwa Sheriff's department, but the tipster wasn't comfortable dealing with them. I've given my cell phone to confidential informants, so assume it was one of my CI's that called in the tip."
"So why didn't you call SJSD?"
Unser drew another deep breath. "I thought about it, but realized that SJSD would try to reach Stahl by radio. The Irish criminal element has a penchant for monitoring the police bands, and I didn't want to tip them off with a broadcast."
"So you went after the convoy instead. How did you know the route Agent Stahl would take?" Carey inquired dryly.
"Stahl likes - liked - to follow certain procedures," Unser was inwardly pleased by his well placed stammer and struggle with tenses. "This road is seldom used by the public, and is the shorter route to ATF headquarters. Unfortunately, it's also a good spot for hijackers to hide."
"Why didn't you call Stahl on her cell phone?"
"I didn't have her number, nor any of the telephone numbers for her team," Unser replied solemnly. "I just thought it'd be quicker to tell her in person and took off after the convoy."
"And the use of your CPD cruiser?"
"Course of habit," Unser shrugged.
"Didn't it occur to you that broadcasting the tip over the police band might have prevented this from happening?"
"It did," Unser replied quietly. "But I also knew that putting the word out on air could've led to the deaths of more agents. By stopping the convoy and informing them of the tip, the agents had the upper hand and were more alert to trouble. I didn't expect Stahl to send all three agents ahead, so I stayed with her."
"Explain how the assailants managed to get the drop on you?" Carey asked.
"Stahl and I were leaning against the front of my squad car; our backs were turned to the roadway. We were able to see Jimmy in the back seat of her car. Next thing we knew, Stahl was pulled away from me. I tried to turn to help her and got spun around and hit in the face. That's the last I remember."
"Were they in a vehicle?"
Unser shook his head. "I didn't hear or see one. My guess is that the assailants parked off the road a few yards away and walked up on us."
Carey glanced down at his notebook. He had the notes that Mendes and another IAD investigator had from Unser. The facts of the story were the same. 'He's definitely not lying. It was a planned hit to take out Jimmy and any witnesses. Unser lucked out in getting knocked out, otherwise he'd be dead, too.'
"Is there anything else you want to add, Chief?"
Unser pretended to think the matter over, then shook his head. "No. That's it. They obviously killed Stahl and O'Phelan while I was unconscious and took off."
"Thank you, Chief," Carey stated, reaching out to turn off the recorder. "You're free to go."
"I'm sorry about the ATF's loss," Unser replied.
"The irony is that my team was going to arrest Stahl for Tyler's murder. I guess she wound up paying for her sins after all."
"Yeah," Unser agreed softly, sliding from the back seat of the unmarked government vehicle.
He ambled to his squad car, ignoring the horde of reporters trying to get his attention. All he wanted to do was go home and have a stiff drink. The crime scene tape was still in place, and imprisoned his vehicle. He sighed in frustration and walked back to Carey in order to get his vehicle released.
"Are your people finished with my car?" Unser inquired when Carey turned an inquiring look on him.
"I'll check," he signaled to the head of the CSI's and exchanged a few whispers with him. The CSI walked away as Carey turned to Unser. "We'll be releasing your car shortly, Chief. Sorry for the delay."
"It's OK. It's not like I have anywhere to be right now," Unser murmured.
"Hey, baby!" Alex's voice filled the Challenger's cockpit. It sounded like he was right beside her, and made her feel his absence more keenly. There was an expectant pause in the recording. Without thinking about it, Cat replied, "Hey back, love!"
"I know you got concerned when Chibs pulled into the drive instead of me. Now that ya know I'm whole, lemme explain what's goin' on."
There was another pause. Cat could imagine him sitting somewhere in the compound where he could record in private while a lit cigarette trailed smoke from his fingers as he gathered his thoughts together.
"OK. Here's the 411 baby. Ya know we were facin' revocation of our bond tomorrow. There's not gonna be any hearin'. By the time you're listenin' to this, we'll be headin' to Stockton Prison." He barked a derisive laugh and added, "Guess ya know that I won't be home tonight."
"No shit, Sherlock!" She muttered dryly. Her heart had dropped into her stomach when he said they were heading to prison.
"Don't be a smartass, woman!" He admonished, as if he'd expected her to make just such a comment. "Just shut the fuck up a few minutes and listen!"
She flipped the bird at the tape recorder, not even attempting to disguise it by pushing her glasses back up her nose.
"Damn! You're pissed a'right! I know ya just gave me the finger!" He laughed in genuine amusement. "Gettin' back on track, it's not as bad as you're thinkin'."
She listened carefully as he explained how Jax had brought the idea of pretending to work with Stahl in order to get short time for the club and Gemma. "We all voted in favor of the idea. The kicker was that we had to keep all you women outta the loop until the deed was done," he added almost apologetically.
Cat snorted in disgust. 'Do y'all really think I'd have blabbed to the other old ladies, much less to Stahl?'
"I know ya would've kept it close, baby. But it was a club decision; I really had no choice in the matter."
"Whatever!" She muttered.
"C'mon, don't be mad. You know I'd have told ya if I could've!" He sighed. "Anyway, we're only gonna do 14 months."
"Only?" She exclaimed incredulously during the slight pause that followed that announcement.
"Yeowtch! Guess that would sound a little outrageous to ya, baby," he replied. His voice held a placating note to it. "I don't like the idea of missin' some of those 'landmark' dates myself. Was kinda lookin' forward to that first anniversary with ya - among other special occasions. Ya gotta admit it's better than the alternative."
"Hmph!"
"Yeah. It's small compensation, but better than nothin'!"
"What's to keep Stahl from goin' back on the deal, now that she's got what she wants?" Cat inquired darkly.
"We thought about Stahl pullin' an Indian giver, baby. That's another reason we had to keep you women in the dark. By the time ya get this tape, Stahl won't be a threat to us, and Jimmy O will be dead."
RJ Payne was frustrated. He hadn't been able to land an interview with Wayne Unser, and the last newscast of the evening was about to end. He had to give a live stand up report and tease for the late night news. 'It's gonna be a long night.'
He reassured himself that unlike his unlamented predecessor, Windover wasn't screaming at him for not producing results. 'Pesta would've made me deaf by now with screamed insults!'
He'd just finished the stand up recap when he noticed Unser walking to his squad car unaccompanied by any of the Feds. Payne waved frantically at the former police chief, whom he'd intended to interview about the closing of CPD.
All Unser wanted to do was go home, take some pain medication, and wash it down with some whiskey. He sighed when the Channel 2 reporter waved at him. 'Damn! I did promise to let the guy interview me about CPD! Guess I might as well get it over with!'
Unser ducked under the police tape and strolled over to the side of the news van so he wouldn't be seen by the other reporters watching the investigation. The last thing Unser wanted was to be hounded by the rest of the media.
Stahl's body was covered with a sheet, as was Jimmy O'Phelan's. The sheets were already soaked in blood from their wounds. Unser shuddered and turned his gaze away from the sight, rubbing his face with his hands.
"How are you feeling, Chief?" Payne inquired. "That's a pretty nasty bruise on your face."
"It's gonna hurt like a sonofabitch in the mornin'," Unser acknowledged. "Guess I was the lucky one, so I'm not going to complain."
"I appreciate you coming over to talk to me," Payne continued. "Considering the circumstances, I'd have understood if you'd forgotten."
"Don't bullshit me, son!" Unser snapped wearily. "You're hoping to get a scoop from me about Stahl and O'Phelan. That's not happening. I promised to talk about the closing of CPD, and that's all I'm gonna give you. It's not my case to talk about anyway."
Payne thought quickly. There might still be a chance he could score against the competition. "But you do have a story to tell, as the sole survivor of this ambush!"
"I was knocked out, son. Not much of a tale to tell," Unser retorted.
"You might think so, but the viewing public will want to know the facts as you recall them firsthand. It'll be a nice wrap up to the department closing its' doors, don't you agree?"
Unser smiled grimly. He knew the reporter was buttering him up in hopes of getting an exclusive. He had to give the reporter props for his persistence. "I'll tell ya what, son. I'll give you an interview about CPD now, but the interview about the ambush will have to wait until tomorrow. Deal?"
Payne wasn't pleased with the idea, but it beat coming up with nothing. "It's a deal."
Unser crossed his arms over his chest and readied himself for the interview about his department and it's closing. He felt better putting off talking about the ambush to the media for the next day.
"I'm glad you're here. She's frantic!" Lyla greeted Neda at the Morrow's front door. She stepped aside to allow the nanny access to the interior. Neda had Abel in his carrier and a bag of necessary items hanging off one shoulder.
"She's just upset. She'll settle once she has this child in her arms," Neda assured the actress. "Where is she?"
"Give me my grandson!" Gemma cried, rushing into the front room with her arms outstretched for the infant. She was barefoot; the ankle monitor quite visible around her slim leg.
Neda turned over the infant, smiling indulgently at Gemma, who was cooing over Abel, gazing fondly at the angelic face in her arms. "We'll be in the bedroom," Gemma announced, turning away from the women.
Lyla stared after her in disbelief. "She could've at least said 'thank you'!" She sighed once Gemma was out of earshot.
Neda placed the heavy bag on the sofa and sat down next to it. "That's just her way," she assured the other woman. "I know she appreciates it."
Lyla flopped into an arm chair with a sigh. "Oh, I know. And she's scared right now for Jax."
"I saw something about it on the news. What really happened?" Neda inquired.
Lyla explained about Stahl's admission that Jax had been working with her, and signed a statement about the IRA gun deal. "The guys were livid. Gemma's afraid that Clay will kill Jax."
Neda shook her head. "That doesn't sound like Jax. I don't care what Agent Stahl said, there has to be something more to the story!"
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Lyla sighed again and got up to answer it.
"Is Gemma here?" Filthy Phil asked. Miles was standing next to him.
"She's in the bedroom with Abel. Where did you two run off to after the guys were taken away?"
"I can't say, ma'am," Phil replied. "I've got to deliver something to Gemma. Jax's orders."
Lyla motioned for the prospects to follow her. She led them down the hall to the bedroom and announced their presence to the biker queen. Gemma was sitting propped up on the bed, holding Abel close. It was hard to tell who was comforting whom.
Lyla watched from the doorway as the two prospects advanced. Phil handed her an envelope, explaining it was from Jax and that she should destroy it after she read it.
Gemma accepted the envelope, though her eyes were full of questions. She informed the prospects that Tara was at Jax's house.
The prospects turned to leave. They had one more delivery to make. They were tired and upset themselves, and not in the mood for small talk.
Lyla followed them back to the front door. "Would someone tell me what's going on?" She asked, grabbing Miles by the arm before he could cross the threshold.
"I can't, Miss. It's not for me or Phil to tell. You'll have to wait for Opie to tell you - or if Gemma decides to share what Jax wrote to her," he replied sorrowfully.
Lyla sighed with frustration and shut the door after the prospects.
"You get used to that kind of thing," Neda stated sympathetically.
"Do you have an old man in a club?"
Neda smiled and shook her head. "No, but my nephew is a member of the Grim Bastards, so I know my way around club business."
"Oh," Lyla flopped into the armchair again, arms crossed over her bosom. "Does it ever get better?"
"There's times when things slow down. Likely the next few months will be somewhat uneventful for SAMCRO." Neda explained.
"I hope so," Lyla replied wearily. "When do you leave town, by the way?"
"My new job doesn't start for another couple of weeks. Gives me time to make sure my replacement will be up to snuff. Tara's going to need plenty of help while Jax is gone." The nanny replied. She had been offered a position in Los Angeles that was too good to pass up.
Tara had given her permission to interview and hire her replacement, as well as train the new nanny. That had taken place while Jax was in Belfast rescuing Abel. Neda had hired a Hispanic girl with a loving personality. Under her watchful eye, the new nanny was showing all the signs of being an excellent teacher and guide for Abel.
"It's only been her first day of work, but I've got time to make sure she'll work out well with Abel - and with Tara." Neda added.
"Are you looking forward to the new job?"
"It's going to be a challenge, but I think I can handle it," Neda stated. "I'll miss everyone here, but it's a once in a lifetime opportunity. I'm glad Tara and Jax are willing to let me take it."
"If it were up to me, you wouldn't!" Gemma announced sourly. She strode into the living room to sit on the couch beside Neda. She held Abel in her arms. The letter was still clutched in one hand.
"Then I'm lucky the decision wasn't yours to make!" Neda replied with a knowing smile.
"Is that the letter from Jax?" Lyla asked, pointing at the piece of paper.
"Yes. He didn't rat out the club. Those asshats were in on it from the start, and voted to keep all of us in the dark!" Gemma exclaimed. She kept her voice low so she wouldn't upset Abel. "I'm going to have some choice words for them when I see them!"
"That's going to be awhile," Lyla observed.
"True. Though I can say a lot during a phone call!" Gemma assured the women.
"But where are Opie and the others that didn't go to jail?" Lyla asked worriedly.
Gemma passed the letter to the porn star. "Go ahead and read this. It'll explain everything to you better than hearing it from me."
Lyla devoured Jax's letter to his mother that outlined the club's plan. The idea that Agent Stahl and Jimmy O'Phelan were dead didn't bother her at all. She realized that Opie had gotten vengeance for Donna by killing Stahl, and felt it was only right that he be the trigger man.
"Stahl didn't lie about the 14 month sentence," Lyla observed, passing the letter back to Gemma.
Gemma nodded as she handed the baby to Neda. "I could've done without all that drama this afternoon!" She stood up and walked outside where the grill was located. She laid the paper on the metal slats and touched a lighter to it, watching as the flame turned the paper into blackened ash.
While Gemma destroyed the letter, Neda gently rocked Abel in her arms. She hadn't read the letter, but she'd gotten the gist of the situation from the other women's conversation. She was satisfied that she'd been right to believe Jax hadn't ratted the club out.
"Oh, gosh! What about Cat!" Lyla exclaimed when Gemma returned to the living room.
"Don't worry about her. Tig will have taken care of it already," Gemma assured her. "If she needs any of us, she knows to call."
'Why doesn't that news shock me?' Cat muttered dryly to the news that Stahl and Jimmy O'Phelan were dead.
"I know how ya support law enforcement, baby," Alex continued. "Stahl isn't the type of law enforcement that deserves your support. She's a rabid animal. Ya gotta admit that that once an unprotected animal goes rabid there's only one humane thing to do."
"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Cat groused at the recorder. "I can see needin' to take out Jimmy O'Phelan. It's harder for me to justify killin' an officer!"
"What's done is done, baby," Alex cautioned her. "I don't wanna argue with ya about this next time I see ya. Agreed?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"There's a few things I need ya to do for me. Contact Colleen, see if ya can get her to agree to ask the girls to visit me once in a while. Or maybe write."
Cat wrinkled her nose in disdain. She didn't like dealing with Colleen as a rule. The twins' mother treated her like an enemy. 'As if she ever had a chance of winnin' Alex back!'
Alex laughed softly. "I can see your expression, baby. I know it's a lot to ask. I'd just like to see my girls once in awhile. If I knew how to contact 'em directly, I would."
"No worries, love. I've got this," she murmured.
"Thanks, baby," he stated huskily. "The other thing is a care package - socks and shit like that. I'm a little partial to my own gear. I'll also need commissary money. Especially if I'm gonna have any Snicker Bar Muffins!" He added with a light laugh. "Maybe I'll just buy up the whole contingent and resell 'em for extra cash! Might come in handy to bribe a guard or two!"
"Don't y'all even think it, bucko!"
"Relax, Cat! Ya know the club's already got guards on the payroll! And don't be worryin' about my safety. Clay's gonna have that covered."
Cat rolled her eyes. She hadn't considered that until Alex mentioned it! Noq she wouldn't be able to keep from worrying because anything could happen in prison. Otto losing his good eye was testament to that.
"Maybe I should've kept quiet on that, but you'd have thought about it anyway. Just try not to worry yourself sick, OK?"
Cat sighed in resignation. "Oh all right!"
"That's my girl!" His croon was full of male smugness that set her teeth on edge.
"Before ya start hissin' at me, baby, there's somethin' else I want ya to know. The club's gonna need some help movin' some of the bigger guns and shit. That's why I put the false bottom in your car. I know ya can handle that, but you're to take one of the brothers with ya when you do."
"Talk about a dead giveaway!" She huffed.
"I'm serious about this, woman! When you're handlin' business for the club like that, you will have protection!" He retorted.
"Sheesh! All right already!"
"Talk to Chibs about it," he continued in a gentler tone of voice. "He'll be actin' VP. And try not to give Kozik too hard a time if he patches in under the 'hardship clause' and is named actin' SAA. Remember it's just a temporary assignment."
"Damn! Y'all aren't lettin' me have much fun!"
"No, I'm not. You're gonna be too busy to have fun, woman!" Alex laughed.
"Wanna bet?" She growled.
"Listen, baby, I'm gonna have to end this. If they let me, I'll call ya tonight, or at least sometime tomorrow. I know you're gonna wanna hold on to this tape, but ya gotta destroy it."
"I know," she sighed. "Too much incriminatin' info to leave layin' around."
"I knew ya'd understand, baby," he stated proudly. "I left somethin' for ya in the bedside drawer where ya keep that stuffed cat. It might make up for havin' to get rid of the tape. I'll see ya when I see ya, baby."
Cat reached up and shut off the tape player, ejected the small cassette, and clenched it in her hand. She felt an incredible sense of loss, but wasn't willing to give in to it. She had too much to do.
"First things first!" She said to herself, opening the door and climbing gingerly from the front seat. She went into the garage to retrieve a can of lighter fluid, then walked to the back yard where the stone cookout grill sit.
A sense of deja vu settled over her as she placed the tape on the grate and sprayed a liberal coating of lighter fluid on it. Her mind raced back to the night she'd brought Alex home from the Wahewa reservation while he was tripped out on shrooms.
Mistaking her for Donna Winston's ghost, he had admitted to killing her and asked her to accept a hand made Native American doll as a token of his remorse. Cat had accepted the doll, later burning it while he slept so that Alex would never find out that he'd actually confessed the accidental killing to her. Now she was using the same method to destroy the tape he'd made to set her mind at ease about his prolonged absence. She swiped a long fireplace match against the igniter pad and touched the flame to the accelerator coated cassette.
She took a step back and watched the flame greedily consume the tape, melting the recording tape and plastic housing in a few seconds. She sprayed more lighter fluid on the melted remains, renewing the fire so that the entire small device soon turned into ash and filtered through the grate to the bottom of the pit.
"That should do it!" She observed, returning the long matches and lighter fluid to the garage. She locked the Challenger and looked at her house. Lights shone reassuringly from the kitchen. She squared her shoulders and walked to the back gate. She had guests to entertain, time enough to indulge some 'girly' behavior later.
Chibs and Chuckie entered the house through the back door, leaving Cat to listen to the tape Tig had prepared for her. The house was quiet. A little too quiet for their taste.
"Think she'll mind if we put some music on?" Chuckie asked his companion.
"Ah dinna think she'll mynd. Better than walkin' inta a silent hoos!" Chibs assured him. "Pick somethin' upbeat."
"I accept that!" Chuckie exclaimed, rushing to the library. He knew exactly what he'd pick. "You can't go wrong with heavy metal favorites!" He selected a CD of KISS' and Alice Cooper's greatest hits, loaded them into the CD player, and turned on the amplifier.
Seconds later, the opening guitar chords to 'Detroit Rock City' filled the empty house. Chuckie strode back into the kitchen with a satisfied smile on his face.
Chibs found the bottle of Irish whiskey on the counter and poured himself a healthy shot. He raised it in salute to Chuckie's choice and downed the shot. "Ah'm maykin' tay. Ye want sum?"
"I accept that, too!" Chuckie replied. He looked around for the cats, disappointed not to see any furry faces. "Where are the kitties?"
"Thair still at tha' cawffeeshop," Chibs explained, taking two mugs out of the cupboard and placing them on the counter.
"Oh, yeah. Lemme handle that."
"Ye kin hoo ta mayke tay Lady Cat's way?"
"She taught me," Chuckie replied, accepting the canister of tea from the biker. He measured the fresh tea into the filtered tea maker while waiting for the water to boil.
Chuckie was fascinated by both the tea that Cat used and the way it was brewed. She didn't go for commercial tea bags. Her tea blends were made of loose tea, and was brewed with the use of an infuser.
Chibs enjoyed the brew himself. It was closer to his homeland's tea than anything else he could get in the states. He was more than happy to allow Chuckie to handle the brewing duties. He had spied his 'liddle sweet'eart' spying on him from the living room.
He moved slowly into the living room to sit on the sofa, patting the cushion next to him invitingly. "Coom on, liddle un! Ah've missed ye!"
Misty sniffed the air, her tail quivering at the tip. She moved cautiously towards the sofa, still sniffing the air, then hopped onto the arm of the sofa. She crouched on the fabric, her one emerald eye staring at Chibs.
He held his hand palm up to her and let her sniff his fingers. He didn't say anything to the cat, just let her investigate his open hand. She sniffed some more, than butted her head against his hand in a demand for petting.
"Tha's me gurrl!" He exclaimed softly, rewarding the one eyed feline with a caress on the back of the head.
Misty closed her eyes in delight, and rubbed her whiskers against Chibs' hand. She crept from the arm of the sofa into his lap and curled up in a small, dark, furry ball, purring with contentment and licking Chibs' fingers on occasion.
"Tha's me liddle gurrl!" He whispered softly so he wouldn't frighten the skittish cat. "Ye remember me afhter all!"
"Why wouldn't she?" Chuckie inquired.
"Laidy Cat wairned me tha wee gurrl myte snub me fer layvin' 'er so long!" Chibs explained.
"I accept that!" Chuckie poured hot water into the top of the infuser, watching in fascination as the water seeped thru the loose tea leaves, coming out as clear liquid in the bottom. When the water had reached a certain level, he added more hot water until there was enough brewed tea to fill the two cups.
Chuckie added sweetner to his cup, but took Chibs' directly to him, setting it on the coaster on the table next to him. "Thank ye, Chuckie."
Chuckie sat down in the recliner across from the sofa, gazing longingly at the little black cat curled happily on Chibs' lap. "I wish Ming would come visit! He likes me!"
"Noo acootin' fer sum taystes!" Chibs grinned.
"Now, brother! Don't go pickin' on Chuckie!" Cat admonished from the kitchen. She'd entered quietly into through the back door, pausing to listen to the men's banter and fix herself a cup of tea.
"Yas, mi'laidy!" Chibs smiled, gazing intently at her. Except for the set of her jaw, she didn't appear to be upset over what she'd heard on the tape.
"Chuckie, when y'all finish your tea, why don't you go to the coffeehouse, and send the critters home? It's closin' time anyway. Maybe Ming will consent to visit with you."
"Ok!" Chuckie quickly downed his tea and rushed out of the room. Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him.
Misty quivered in her sleep, but Chibs crooned reassuringly at the feline. He stroked her shiny fur to keep her calm until her eye closed again.
"The lad certainly is enthusiastic, isn't he?" Cat grinned, settling quietly on the sofa next to her friend.
"Aye. Sumtimes a mite too muich so!" Chibs replied. "Aire ye a'right, darlin'?"
"I'll survive," she assured him. "I'm not happy about bein' without Tig for the next 14 months."
"Aye. E' figgered on tha'."
"And that's why he sent y'all here with the tape, isn't it?" She asked, her eyebrows knotting in a frown behind the tinted insert.
"Aye, lassie. E' didnae want ye ta be alone when ye fund oot aboot tha' jailin'." Chibs admitted, meeting her gaze with his own.
Cat felt the emptiness inside her fill a bit over Alex's gesture. 'He didn't have to do all this, not with everything else on his plate!' She thought.
"Nay, e' didnae 'ave ta do it; e' wanted ta. 'E didnae want ye ta 'ear aboot it frum tha telly or frum Gem." Chibs assured her.
"He also mentioned that the club's goin' to be needin' me and the Challenger in the months to come. That's why I sent Chuckie to the coffeehouse, so we could discuss it."
"Boot we donnae 'ave ta talk aboot it now!" Chibs protested.
"Now's as good a time as any other!" She retorted. "He said somethin' about big guns that would need to be transported."
Chibs sighed in resignation, stroking Misty's fur for reassurance. "Aye. It's part o'tha agreement wi' tha' Red Mafia fer gittin' Abel back. We're gittin' a beeger piece o'tha goon runnin' pie."
"About time, if y'all ask me!" She huffed. "I just hope we're not talkin' cannons! That would put a lot of strain on the springs!"
Chibs glared at her and shook his head. "Nay, darlin'. AK's, mebbe a rocket launcher or two. Nuthin' beeger."
"The false bottom will hold a pretty good number of those. Alex already said someone from the club's goin' to be ridin' along. I can handle one or two runs a month as long as it's not on a Sunday."
"Whut's 'appenin' on Sunday?"
"That's goin' to be my day to deliver stuff to the Stockton Commissary and visit with Tig," she replied.
"Ach! Ah thin' we can wirk wi' tha'," Chibs agreed.
"All y'all are gonin' to have to accept it, period. That's non negotiable!" Cat insisted.
"As fer ye goin' ta Stockton on Sunday, tha's foine, boot ye aire gonna 'ave an escort," Chibs countered.
"Excuse me?" She snarled. 'It's one thing to have a tagalong for club business, I'll be damned if I'll put up with a guard on my own business!'
"Ye 'eard me, woman! 'Tis dangerus tymes we're lavin' in. Teeg wuld 'ave me arse inna sling ifn Ah let ye run ta Stockton wi'oot proteckshun!"
"Tig doesn't have to know!" She snorted. "And I will be protected. I'll carry my gun."
"'E'll know. Tha mon 'as gud raydar when it cums ta ye," Chibs countered. "Besydes, all 'e 'as ta do is ashk tha' prospects ifn they were wi' ye, und they'd fold lyke tin foil!"
"True dat," Cat sighed. "Thing is, I don't have the prospects listed on the vendor report as cleared employees. I don't want to delay startin' this project to get 'em cleared!" She peered over the rim of her glasses at Chibs and snarled, "Somethin' I could've attended to had I been informed of the need in advance!"
Chibs winced in response to her snarky reference to being kept in the dark about the plan. "Teeg's rite, woman! Ye aire truly evil!"
"And don't y'all forget it!"
"Boot it changes nuthin' Laidy Cat. Yer still goin' ta 'afta 'ave proteckshun whether ye lyke it or noot!"
"Shit!" She sighed.
"What about me?" Chuckie asked from the archway separating the dining area from the living room. He held a purring Siamese in his arms.
"Whut aboot ye?" Chibs growled.
"Didn't you list me as an employee on the vendor application, Miss Cat?"
She squinted her eyes closed, trying to remember. "I've got a copy in the office. Let me check. Right now, I wouldn't be willin' to admit to whether it's afternoon or evenin'!"
She rose from the sofa and limped down the hall to the office. While she retrieved the paperwork, Chibs gestured for Chuckie to resume his seat in the recliner.
"'Ow muich did ye 'ear?"
"Enough to know that Miss Cat needs company when she makes the weekly Stockton run. I'll be happy to go with her. I can help stock!"
"Aye, ye can. Ifn she 'as ye listed."
"And I did," Cat interjected, waving the folder labeled 'Stockton Concession' in the air. "Good call on your part, Chuckie. The help would be appreciated."
Chuckie beamed with delight.
Chibs shook his head. "Teeg wouldnae accept 'im as a guard. 'E's a gud wirker, boot tha one ting 'e cannae do is hold a goon. It 'as ta be tha' prospecks or one o'us."
"The club's goin' to be spread too thin as it is with just the four of y'all! And I need the prospects startin' tomorrow to start repair on the gym so we can reopen on Monday!"
"Now yer spreadin' yerself too far, woman!" Chibs snorted. "Teeg's -"
"Tig has enough to worry about at the moment!" Cat stated, cutting off her friend's protest. "The last thing he needs to do is worry about my ass!"
"Thin quit fightin' me on this!" Chibs replied hotly. "Utherwyse, e'll noot be able ta keep 'is mind on tha' task at hand!"
"I'm afraid that Chibs is right, Miss Cat. It's better to have someone at our back and not need 'em, than to need 'em and not have someone at our back," Chuckie offered.
Cat favored him with 'The Look', but found herself reluctantly admitting to the logic in Chuckie's statement. "Dammit, I really hate it when you men are right!"
The two men exchanged looks and grins of triumphant relief. Then Cat let loose with a zinger that would've made Alex wince. "Thank God it doesn't happen too often!"
"Ah guess we desairved tha'," Chibs remarked wryly. "Boot ye agree ta let one o'us 'ave yer back?"
"I don't have much of a choice," she replied grimly. "And if it keeps Tig's mind on stayin' safe, then it's worth it!"
"I accept that!" Chuckie grinned. An oath that was echoed by the very relieved Chibs. 'Ah wuz afaird tha' agrument wuld last a loot longer than it did!'
Jonas Carey had never been so tired in his life. 'If there's a state beyond exhaustion, I've found it!' He mused as he settled in his desk chair. He'd spent several hours at the crime scene where Agent Stahl and Jimmy O'Phelan had been killed, taking video statements from her team.
He plugged the video camera into his computer and downloaded all the files, making sure they were encrypted once they were downloaded. He still had to write up a report pertaining to Stahl's death.
'It really would've been better if we could've taken her alive. Maybe we'd have learned why she went rogue the way she did. Now we'll never really know.'
He reviewed the notes that he took during each statement. He'd managed to keep Stahl's team separated until he could interview them, but their statements ran in the same vein. None of her team had realized that Stahl was turning.
He reread Tyler's letter to James Windover another time, hoping he'd find more answers that he hadn't already uncovered. Tyler had been quite detailed in her letter, giving not only her own version of what had happened in Galt, but of the late night visit at their home by Jax Teller, VP of the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club.
'And I thought things were a mess before Stahl was killed!' Carey thought wryly. He was going to have to burn the midnight oil again.
The regional director walked unannounced into his office and shut the door before Carey realized he was present. He motioned for the IAD investigator to remain seated and settled into the vacant chair across from Carey.
"This has turned into quite a mess," the director stated flatly.
"Yes sir."
"Did you get statements from Stahl's team?"
"Yes sir. Already downloaded and encrypted," Carey assured him.
"Good. Forward them to me via email, and copy Agent Sullins. As Stahl's supervisor, he's going to need those statements to review. So will the US Attorney."
"Speaking of the US Attorney, has he decided what to do about the flight charge against Gemma Morrow?"
The director winced. He'd already come from a meeting with the US Attorney that had made his sparse hair hurt. "He's not happy. Morrow has a top flight lawyer in Ally Lowen. Once she gets wind of Stahl's duplicity - and there's no doubt she'll get wind of it - she'll be breaking down the door to the courthouse to get Mrs. Morrow's flight charge overturned."
"She'd be right to do so," Carey admitted softly.
"You don't have to tell me!" The director sighed.
Both men knew without saying so that Stahl's initial lie about the Galt shooting caused Gemma Morrow to go on the lam right after it occurred. Any lawyer worth their salt would cite that Stahl had abused her authority to co - erce Gemma into blaming Tyler for the bad shoot.
"Stahl's actions could land the Agency in a lot of hot water, and a possible lawsuit," the director added. "That kind of bad PR is something we don't need. I'm sorry you're having to bear the brunt of the responsibility to tie up all the loose ends," the director replied.
"Someone has to do it. I happened to draw the lucky hand, I guess," Carey stated wryly.
"When you submit the statements and your report, I'd appreciate it if you'd include your recommendations on these matters we've discussed, and about her team."
"Yes sir," Carey acknowledged.
"We'll need everything by 8AM. We have to get this done and over with ASAP."
The ATF paddy wagon rolled down the driveway between two fences of barbed wire. Its' destination the prisoner processing area to Stockton Prison.
The Sons inside the wagon grew silent and grim, facing the possibility that they would only see each other during meals and exercise periods. Jax and Clay were especially nervous after the club overheard the wagon's driver and his passenger discussing Viktor Putlova's apprehension.
"That means we'll have to be even more careful inside," Tig growled.
"I'll finish work on our protection the minute I'm allowed to make an outside call," Clay promised.
The paddy wagon drew to a stop beside the processing center entrance. The doors to the wagon flew open and the two agents stood aside to allow the Stockton guards to unlock the Sons' chains. Their hands were released from the bindings so they could climb down from the wagon.
"Line up! Single file!" The guards barked.
The club looked at the guards. They'd all been through the drill before, though not at Stockton. Heedless of the guards instructions, the club formed a tight circle and murmured 'good luck' to each other before forming a straight line.
"You are no longer outlaws. In here, you're just another bunch of sorry ass prisoners! You'll be processed individually, so it's a good thing you girls kissed each other goodbye!" The beefiest guard gloated.
"You will eat when you're told and what you're given. You may purchase items from the commissary provided someone on the outside puts money on the books for you. You will do what you're told, when you're told. If you step out of line, you'll get time added to your sentence!" The guard smiled nastily and added, "And I do hope you bitches step outta line at least once during your stay!"
The club kept their faces straight ahead, giving no indication that the guard's words bothered them. 'Hell, I heard worse from my D.I.!" Tig mused inwardly.
"All right, ladies! Move out!" The guard hollered, pointing towards the open door to the processing center.
The ATF agents smirked as they watched the Sons walk towards the prison. "That's a good sight to see!" The driver remarked loud enough for the club to hear.
"You bet!" The other agent grinned. "I'd have paid to get this assignment!"
The Sons kept their heads high as they passed through the doorway. More guards waited inside to lead each club member to a room where they were ordered to remove their cuts, rings, wallets, and other non approved items.
Tig felt a pang of loss when he removed the jaguar wedding ring from his finger. He'd grown used to its' presence. It meant more to him than any of the other rings he wore. He traced the lines of the cat's face with his index finger, admiring how the blue topaz eyes caught the light.
"C'mon, big boy! That goes in the bag with the rest of your shit!" The guard prompted him.
Tig reluctantly placed the ring in the bag with his wallet, leather wrist cuffs, and his other rings. The guard inventoried the contents, listed it on a label on the bag, then had Tig review the contents with the list and sign off on it.
Relieved of his personal items, Tig was then ordered to strip naked and place his clothing in a box. The guard again inventoried the contents, wrote it out on the label, and had Tig sign off on it.
As naked as they day he was born, Tig was escorted to the shower. A fire hose was turned on him, but he escaped any injury to his dick by keeping his hands in a strategic protective position. The force of the water still stung his hands and extremities, leaving his skin red and sore. He snorted water from his nose and mouth, glaring at the smirking guards.
He wasn't given much time to dry off, and only a hand towel to use for the process. His hair was still dripping wet when he was issued his prison clothes; a set of denim marked with 'DOC' on the back of the shirt and down one leg of the jeans. A pair of sneakers and undergarments completed his outfit. He dressed quickly, knowing the guards were just waiting for an excuse to deck him.
Once he was dressed, he was led to an interview room. A band with his name, prison ID number, and his entry date was placed around one wrist. The band reminded him of the band put on Cat's wrist at the hospital. The ID number, 24601, seemed familiar. 'Prolly had that number before," he shrugged inwardly.
"Don't lose this, sweetie," the guard smirked. "It'll cost ya if ya do."
"Yeah," Tig replied quietly.
He was issued two very thin but clean sheets, a scratchy blanket, and a pillowcase. The guard then led him down the noisy hallway lined with cells. Inmates called out a raucous greeting as he passed. "Fresh fish!" and "Hey fishie, fishie!" followed him down the walkway.
Tig kept his head high and his eyes straight ahead. He wasn't afraid. He wasn't even apprehensive. 'Shit, I've said the same thing to new arrivals myself. They can smell fear if you let 'em, and I'm not afraid of a little cock, which is what most of 'em have!'
He was led to an empty cell and waited until a buzzer sounded and the door slid open. "Welcome home, honey!" The guard grinned wickedly. "Looks like your cell mate isn't here - yet!"
Tig walked into the cell without answering the guard. The hoots and cat calls from his fellow inmates died down as he surveyed his small surroundings. There was a metal bunk bed, bolted to the floor that took up one side of the room. The walls were made of concrete blocks. A metal basin and toilet area was nestled in one corner, very close to the lower bunk. "I sure as Hell ain't sleepin' next to the shitter!" Tig growled to himself.
He quickly made up the top bunk, placing the pillow on the door side of the cell. It was as far as he'd be able to get his head from the toilet. The cell was home for the next 14 months; he'd just have to make the best of it.
Making the best of it included getting used to using the toilet without benefit of privacy. He turned his back to the bars of the cell, opened his pants, and directed his cock towards the toilet.
Another round of howls and catcalls warned him that another new inmate was being led down the hallway. He ignored the noise to concentrate on the task at hand. A steady stream of urine splashed into the metal receptacle just as the buzzer sounded and he heard the door open.
'Shit! It figures!' He rolled his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to get a look at his roommate. To his relief, Bobby was standing in the doorway holding his bedroll in his arms.
"What's the matter? Ya never see a guy piss before?" Tig grinned.
"Nice to see you too, asshole!" Bobby retorted, tossing his bedroll on the bottom bunk.
The club met for the evening meal, taking up an entire table. Clay took his usual place at the head of the table, and spoke as if he were conducting a regular church meeting. Jax was to his right, Tig at his left, with Bobby next to Jax. Juice and Happy sat opposite each other.
They couldn't find Otto nor Lenny the Pimp. One of the guards on SAMCRO's payroll advised Clay that Otto had been moved to death row that very day.
"It's not looking good for Otto at all," the guard stated. "He's given up."
"Damn! What about Lenny?"
"He's not allowed to eat in gen pop. He and the other hard cores eat in a separate area. It's not likely you'll get much chance to see him," the guard stated before moving on down the line.
"That's the bad news," Clay sighed, pushing the unpalatable food about his tray. "The good news is that we're not sharin' a cell with strangers. Juicy's got the top bunk in our cell."
"Just as long as I don't have to take one in the ass!" Juice grinned.
"TMI!" Tig shuddered. "Bobby and I are roommates."
"You have my sympathies," Clay murmured.
"Hey! I'm not that bad!" Bobby protested.
"No, but your shit smells like shit!" Clay retorted. He was deliberately trying to keep the mood light. The club had enough on their minds without talking about their need for protection.
"I'm lookin' forward to Commissary day myself," Tig stated, turning the topic to something less scatological. "Cat's startin' the concession Sunday."
"That's some more good news. Imagine she'll work in visitation at the same time. It makes sense," Bobby observed.
'I hope so,' Tig thought. "I feel sorry for you guys that don't have a steady old lady to put money on the books for ya!"
"The Croweaters will come through for us, won't they?" Juice asked worriedly.
"They should, providin' someone mentions that to Ope," Bobby gazed meaningfully at Clay.
"I'll put that on my list," Clay retorted. "Guess I'll go get in line for the phone," he added, glancing at Tig.
"I'll come with, keep your back safe," Tig muttered, picking up his tray and following the Prez.
"And he'll call his wife while he's at it!" Juice mused dryly.
"Don't knock it, Juice!" Jax retorted. "He might tell Cat about your commissary plight. You know Cat's pretty good at makin' shit happen when she has to!"
"I'm not knockin' it at all!" Juice grinned. "If I were a Croweater, and she told me to do somethin', I'd do it in a red - hot minute!"
"Thank God you're not a Croweater, then!" Bobby laughed.
The Tyler's phone seemed to ring all morning long. The minute one message was recorded on the machine, the cycle would start all over. There were calls from family and friends offering comfort and aide, and reporters wanting a story.
Wade Tyler refused to abandon his wife to handle the incoming calls. He ignored the insistent ringing to hold her while she cried over their mutual loss.
"I - I'm sorry!" She sniffled at long last, hiding her blotchy face in his shirt. "I d - don't know what came over me!"
"Grief, shock, anger, maybe a combination of all three," he murmured soothingly. "It's a natural reaction, honey."
"Parents aren't supposed to bury their children!" She remarked wearily.
"No, but it sometimes happens that way. The next few days are going to be difficult, honey. We're going to hear things we may not like about our daughter."
She looked up at him with a worried frown. "What are you talking about?"
"I talked to the ATF representative while you were talking with our minister," he admitted. "He said there was an internal affairs investigation going on into our daughter's inappropriate behavior during an assignment."
"What?" She exclaimed in disbelief.
"That's what I said," Wade admitted. "He couldn't tell me specifics, just that her partner had accused her of a bad shoot."
"Then her partner must be smoking crack or something!" His wife snarled, her parental intuition kicking into high gear. "I know our child better! She'd never do such a thing!"
"You and I know that, but the ATF doesn't. They have to investigate it. They'll also find out that it's not true," he assured her.
Later that morning, they were greeted with the arrival of a letter from their daughter in the mail. They gazed at it with trepidation, neither wanted to open it, yet it was the last time they would receive any news from their child. Finally, Wade opened it and read it aloud.
"Dear Mom and Dad;
This is a very difficult letter to write, but I feel it's important to share this with you. There may not be much time left to me. In fact, it's likely that a 'duty call' will have been paid to you by the ATF by the time you get this, and I'll be dead by the hand of my partner and lover.
I know this comes as a shock to you. Imagine how I felt when it became clear that my lover and work partner was setting me up for a bad shoot. What's worse is that it's one she actually performed!
You see, I can prove my innocence, but don't trust anyone in the regional agency with this intel. It's been sent to a local newscaster who seems pretty trustworthy. It's my hope that he'll follow up on it and prove my innocence. Maybe he'll also point the agency in the direction of my killer.
I made the mistake of trying to be a good agent and follow the rules. My lover, who is also my superior officer on the team, bends the rules whenever it suits her. She made an under the table deal with a criminal in exchange for certain favors. When she realized I knew she was setting me up by having a civilian at the scene of the shooting testify on record that I had killed the person my lover killed, I knew my days were numbered.
There's really nothing you can do to help me. No matter what you hear in the next few days, remember that I love you with all my heart, and took all that you taught me on the job with me every day.
Your loving daughter,
Amy."
"I knew she hadn't done anything wrong!" Amy's mother exclaimed righteously.
"I just hope that reporter can prove it," her husband replied. "For now, it's Amy's word against her superior's."
"But there's hope, and I'm not going to give up on it!" She insisted.
It seemed to Wade as if the weight of her grief had lifted from their daughter's letter. 'I just hope she's not setting herself up for more heartbreak later!'
Opie rushed out of the clubhouse to his bike and placed his helmet on the ground behind it. He needed to feel the wind against his face and beanie without the hindrance of the helmet.
He straddled the bike, started the engine, and raced from the compound, heading South out of Charming. He had no idea where he was going to go, or how long he was going to ride. He just needed the feeling of freedom that only a ride could give him and try to clear the cobwebs out of his heart and soul.
He knew Clay had offered the job of killing Stahl to him as recompense for ordering the hit on him that had taken Donna's life. He'd hoped that he would gain satisfaction from the job, maybe even that sense of closure everyone talked about.
"Satisfaction my ass!" He snorted into the wind. "I was bullshitting myself! If I couldn't feel any satisfaction from beating Tig's face in for shooting Donna in the back of the head, shooting Stahl wasn't going to accomplish jack shit!"
His grip tightened on the throttle. The Harley charged forward, as if it were trying to put miles between Opie and his inner demons. The problem was that the demons rode right beside him.
He'd reacted with brute anger when he realized what Tig was telling him a few days earlier. The SAA never defended himself with his fists, but his words finally cut through Opie's red haze of hurt and anger. The minute he realized that the true cause of Donna's death lay at Stahl's feet, he'd gone off in search of her. His intent was to kill her and to Hell with the consequences.
He tracked Stahl to the storefront she was using to monitor Edmond and Cameron Hayes' activities. While he waited, he had time to think and plan, instead of reacting in blind instinct. He also witnessed Chibs enter the storefront and leave again a few minutes later stuffing a light blue covered document in the inner pocket of his cut.
Seeing Chibs go willingly into the lions den that he and his family hadn't wanted to enter had doused his anger with cold water. When he finally confronted Stahl, he was merciful to her, unloading his gun and handing her the clip full of bullets.
'That turned out to be a major mistake!' He mused grimly. The next time he saw herat the Hayes' military surplus store, she'd behaved no differently than she had with his own family. She treated everyone in her path with contempt. He began to regret his decision to be merciful and regretted it more when Stahl broadcast the false report that Gemma had killed Edmond Hayes. He felt responsible for Abel's kidnapping when Jax sank to his knees on the pier, watching helplessly as the ancient boat carried Cameron Hayes and Abel away.
'I owed as much to Jax as I did to Donna to take Stahl out. So why don't I feel any better? Why do I feel so numb inside?"
He thought of his children. Ellie looked more like Donna every day. Was that why he remained so aloof with her more than Kenny? Did he see Donna's eyes in his little girl's face when she looked at him? 'And what the fuck am I doin' with Lyla this soon after Donna died? Hell, the grass hasn't even started growing on her grave and I'm fuckin' another woman!'
He shook his head. That wasn't an accurate way to describe the relationship between himself and Lyla. It wasn't fair to Lyla, either. The girl loved him, that was obvious. She'd gone off cocaine cold turkey, just because he'd been against it.
'That has to mean something! She wasn't giving it up for Piper!' Opie thought dryly. 'I wish she was as willing to give up the porn as she did the drugs!'
He remembered how hard he'd tried to make an honest life once he returned home from Chino. 'Donna got the kids to accept me again. All she asked in return was that I live an honest life,' he sighed inwardly. 'I tried, baby. I really tried. The only work I could get was back breaking work that barely paid the bills! It was my pride that led me back to the club life. Maybe if I'd tried harder, you'd still be here.'
He slowed the Harley and pulled off into a rest area. His ass was sore from the ride, his legs and hands stiff from being in one position. He parked the bike, but remained sitting on it, flexing his aching muscles before he dismounted and walked around the grounds.
He didn't need a watch to know it was late. The kids would be OK with Tina Lou. She'd keep them overnight if necessary. She was still part of the SAMCRO family and happy to help the club.
'Gem should've gotten Jax's letter by now. Once she settles down, she'll send Lyla home to be with the kids. They'll be looking for me, and here I am moping miles from home!' He kicked a discarded soda can across the parking lot, listening to its' forlorn clanking against the asphalt.
He straddled the bike, started the engine, and pointed it back towards home. No matter what his inner turmoil, he had responsibilities. He had children that loved him unconditionally, in spite of his aloofness in the last few months. He had a woman who loved him desperately. He should be with them instead of moping about his lot in life.
He had asked Lyla to marry him, mostly out of a selfish desire to get her out of the porn industry. He didn't like sharing his pussy with anyone. He'd been just as possessive as with Donna, but to a somewhat lesser extent. Donna hadn't believed in flaunting her body to other males. She reserved that for him.
'Lyla's not Donna. I've got to get that straight in my head. Lyla's young, she thrives on the attention she gets from her skimpy outfits and being a porn star. She's got some growing up to do.'
Twilight enfolded Charming in its' velvet embrace as he passed the town limits sign. Opie piloted the bike down Main Street past the closed businesses. 'Impeccable Smokes' was still boarded up tight. There was a 'For Rent or Sale' sign from Hale Properties on one of the boards. Opie smirked at the sight. He doubted anyone would be interested in that storefront for some time.
He gazed into the darkened windows of 'Charming Pawse' as he passed it. 'Cat's a lot like Donna in some ways. Not a show off, though she has a way of gettin' attention! She's supportive of Tig. A man needs that. Not just pussy.'
Opie turned his bike towards his home, and his mind towards his future. "That's what I want from Lyla, and that's not going to happen overnight. It's not fair to Lyla to marry her while I'm still missing Donna.'
By the time he parked the Harley in his driveway and gazed at the welcome glow of the lights from his home, Opie decided that a long engagement was definitely in order.
Tig and Clay didn't have to wait long for available payphones. Clay dialed the number for his home, while Tig entered the number for Cat's cell. He contemplated calling the house, but wasn't sure where his wife might be. 'I wouldn't put it past her to sneak past Chibs and be out on the bike!'
Clay kept his back to Tig, who was standing at the payphone adjacent to his. Neither man wanted the other to overhear the intimate conversation that would inevitably occur.
"Tig," he stated into the mouthpiece when the recording prompted him to give his name. A few seconds elapsed as the call was connected, seconds that felt like hours.
"Hey, love! Are y'all OK?" She breathed warmly in his ear.
He shook his head, wondering why it surprised him that she would be more concerned about his welfare than her own. It made the blood in his veins race. "Hey back, baby! I was gonna ask ya the same thing!"
"I'm not happy, but the tape Chibs brought helped a lot," she admitted. "Now answer my question, dammit! Are y'all safe?"
'Good girl! Ya remembered not to ask direct questions about us!' He couldn't help grinning at her bravado. Aloud he growled menacingly, "You're pretty brave when there's distance between us, woman!"
"I'm pretty brave when y'all are right in front of me, too!" She retorted. "Did y'all get a single, or is there a roommate?"
"Bobby's my cellmate. Clay drew Juice, and Jax's with Happy."
"So many jokes, so little time," she laughed. She didn't try to hide her relief that he wasn't rooming with someone who might try to do him harm.
"Watch it woman! Just because I'm not there doesn't mean ya can misbehave!" He growled good naturedly. "Payback can be a bitch, y'know."
"I'm quite familiar with that one," she replied. "Y'all will be glad to know that Chibs talked me into havin' help with the deliveries Sunday."
'I owe ya one, brother!' Alex's shoulders slumped with relief. "I'm sure ya made him work for that one!"
"Of course! Chuckie's comin' along to help me with stockin' the bins, and we'll have an escort."
As much as he liked Chuckie, there were some limits to the man's abilities. Holding a gun wasn't a task he'd mastered. "Good. I was gonna suggest it, but didn't want ya throwin' the tape recorder across the room."
"I wasn't in a room, love. I listened to it in the Challenger," she admitted a little huskily. "I felt close to y'all there."
"Shit! Can't imagine why ya would!" Alex grinned slyly, recalling their tryst in the back seat. "So are ya alone?"
"For the moment. Chibs and Chuckie came over, they're in the backyard to give us some privacy."
Alex's eyes narrowed with possessiveness. "I'm not sure I like the idea of two men visitin' ya without me present!"
Cat sighed and rolled her eyes. "Alex, love, when are y'all goin' to realize that you have nothin' to worry about?"
"Well, granted, screwin' any other man would be a step down after bein' with me!" Alex laughed.
"I'm glad y'all have so much confidence in your manly attributes!" She snorted.
"Someone in this relationship has to!" He growled.
"Watch it, bucko! You're treadin' on very thin ice!" She admonished him.
"I know ya too well, baby," he retorted. Cat had proved beyond a doubt that she was loyal to a fault. There'd be no 'prison clause' where she was concerned. It pleased his ego to be reassured of that fact, no matter how much she might try to pierce it.
"I'm goin' to have the prospects start work on the gym tomorrow. The settlement's in, so the sooner we get the joint fixed up, the sooner we can reopen," she continued.
"Good," he grunted. 'Best to get it done while we've got a little down time.'
"I knew y'all would approve. I'll bring your care package on Sunday."
"Speakin' of Sunday, will ya work with Gem to have the Croweaters send up money for Happy, Bobby, and Juice?"
His request was met with a marked silence. "Cat? Did ya hear me?"
"Yeah, I heard y'all. It's just gonna be hard seein' those empty chairs at that long table in the chapel. Not to mention the riderless bikes waitin' for all y'all to come back!"
"It's not forever, baby!" Alex consoled her. There was something about her comment that sounded familiar to him. He shrugged it aside in favor of the more immediate needs that had to be dealt with.
"I know!" She replied. "I'll mention it to Chibs, but will do what I can to help!"
"I know ya will, baby," he crooned with unabashed male pride in her.
"I'll be sure to start workin' with Colleen tomorrow as well," she added.
Alex grinned in appreciation. "I owe ya one for that, baby. I know Colleen rubs ya the wrong way."
"I don't have anything against her, love!" Cat protested. "It's just hard to get past her fear that I'm takin' over!" She winced at her verbal slip. That was something she'd never intended for Alex to know.
"Is that what she told ya?" He replied softly.
"Not in so many words, love."
"But the message got through loud and clear," he observed wryly.
"It's OK, love. Gettin' time with the girls is important to y'all. That makes it a priority with me," she insisted.
"Did ya check out the bedside drawer yet?" He asked, steering the conversation to a safer topic. He knew there was no use in getting angry at Colleen over her behavior. 'Colleen's never been willin' to accept that I've moved on.'
"Not yet, love. I will when it's bedtime. It's gonna be weird sleepin' alone."
"Ha!" He laughed. "You'll have the trio with ya. I'm the one who needs sympathy!"
"Why? Does Bobby snore?"
"Guess I'll find out," Alex sighed.
"I'll expect a full report on Sunday," she chortled. "Love, anytime y'all feel a need to reach out, don't hesitate to call the cell. I'll have it on me 24/7."
"Thanks, baby," he sighed. "What are ya gonna tell Blaine?"
"Yeah. That," she sighed. "I've been thinkin'."
"And?" He prompted when she fell silent.
"When he calls tonight, I'll tell him you aren't available because y'all left to take a job overseas, consultin' for private security in Afghanistan."
Alex nearly dropped the phone. Of all the cover stories she could've considered, he couldn't believe she'd thought of that! "He'll be pretty concerned, baby. Ya sure ya wanna put him through that?"
"It's better than him learnin' the truth, love," she retorted. "It just means he'll put y'all higher up on his prayer list!"
"Gee, thanks!"
"You're welcome," she replied. "Consider it a little added insurance for y'all."
"Hah! When ya put it that way, it doesn't sound so bad!"
"I knew y'all would see the logic!" She crooned.
Alex squeezed the receiver the way he wished he could hold her. He knew Cat was putting on a lighthearted act for him. 'She needs this as much as I do.'
"Tell Bobby and the others I said 'hey'," she added, signaling that they should end the call.
"I'm definitely not huggin' 'em for ya!" Alex retorted. "Pet the furry ones for me."
"Behave yourself, love," she replied. She held the mouthpiece away to murmur, "love and miss y'all!' She disconnected the call before he could reply.
Alex heard the buzz of the dial tone in his ear and hung up the receiver. He leaned his head against the phone and closed his eyes. 'Right back atcha, baby!' He never felt more lonely in his life.
"I'm fine, no thanks to either you or Jax!" Gemma stormed after Clay's greeting. "I don't give a shit that it was a unanimous vote! I'm not 'just' an old lady! I was there when you and JT founded the club! I can't believe you two put me through that shit today!"
Clay closed his eyes and shook his head. He'd anticipated Gemma would be fighting mad. 'The best thing I can do is let her vent awhile,' he mused wryly.
"Well?" Gemma huffed. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
"We had no choice, baby. The club agreed not to tell any of the women, that included you, Tara, Cat, and Lyla. We couldn't afford any fuck ups."
"Are you sayin' I'd screw up the plan?" Gemma roared.
"We weren't willin' to take that chance," Clay replied. "And yes, I know it put a strain on your heart. That was one of the factors we discussed."
"Yet you still kept it secret!"
"It was all or nothing, baby. It was a club vote. You might be the Queen, and ya might've been around when the club was founded; that doesn't give ya any special privileges!" Clay growled. "I don't wanna hear any more about it! Not now, for fuck's sake!"
Gemma felt her anger cool from the pain in her husband's voice. "I'm sorry, baby. It's just that I was so scared when the Feds took you boys away!"
"I know, baby. It hurt me to do that to ya," Clay replied. His voice was filled with regret. "Jax has always been the better writer than me; that's why I asked him to write to ya. Did Lyla stay with you?"
"Yes. Neda brought the baby over for a visit. I sent Lyla home to be with Ope."
"Good. He's gonna need her."
"Is Tig with you?" Gemma asked. It was a rhetorical question, but she needed the reassurance that Tig was watching her man's back. It wasn't like she could come out and ask if they were safe.
"Yeah. He's on the line with his old lady. Likely he's gettin' an earful as well!" Clay grinned.
"Are all of you separate?" She insisted.
"Nah. Juicy drew me. Tig's got Bobby."
"And Jax is with Happy," Gemma sighed in relief.
"I'm glad you approve," Clay remarked dryly. "Listen, I need ya to make sure the Croweaters contribute some cash for Bobby, Juice, and Happy for the commissary."
Gemma winced and wrinkled her nose. That was going to be hard to do while she was on house arrest! "I'm not allowed inside the clubhouse for the next six months, baby. But I'll do what I can."
"Good."
"Anything else you want me to do? Any messages?"
"Nah. That's been covered. I've got to go, baby," Clay replied. "I love you." He cut off the connection without waiting for Gemma to reply. It was hard enough to hear the pain in her voice. He ached to be with her, and couldn't bear another minute on the phone with her.
Tig had just completed his call to Cat when Clay replaced the receiver. They walked away in silence, not speaking until they were well away from the line of inmates waiting to make calls.
"You a'right?" Tig inquired quietly.
"Yeah. Gem was pissed, but she's over it. You get much fallout?"
"Nah. Cat was more concerned about my - our - safety than anything else. I told her to get with Gem about concession money from the Croweaters."
Clay clapped his friend on the shoulder. "That'll help. Gem's not allowed inside the clubhouse."
"I'm not sure Cat's gonna go near the compound, Clay. Said she'd tell Chibs about the commissary thing."
"Why the fuck won't she go near the compound?" Clay growled.
Tig gazed sideways at his best friend. "It was a weird comment she made, like she felt uncomfortable there. She said somethin' about empty chairs at a long table hauntin' her," Tig explained. "It sounds kinda familiar, but I can't place it."
Clay smirked and shook his head. "It's prolly one of those songs she listens to all the time. Ya know how she is about music!"
"Yeah. I do," Tig replied quietly. That's why the comment stayed with him. It meant something to Cat, otherwise she wouldn't have said it to him. He'd just have to ask her about it on Sunday.
As Lyla read Jax's letter, she knew without a doubt that Opie had killed Stahl. The letter didn't specifically say that was the case, but it wasn't difficult for her to figure it out.
'It's only right that he pull the trigger on that bitch!' Lyla thought while she drove to Tina Lou's to pick up the kids. "Stahl caused him so much grief!"
The short amount of time that had passed Donna died had been the main reason she'd hesitated in accepting Opie's marriage proposal right away. 'I still think it's too soon for him to be thinking about getting married again. Kenny and Ellie need time to adjust to the idea as well.'
Though she'd accepted the proposal that morning, she had no desire to rush the nuptials. 'As much as I love Ope, I'm not going to marry him until I'm sure that Donna's ghost won't haunt us.'
She planned on needing to take the kids to support before they got home. She didn't know whether Opie would be there or not. She hadn't heard from him yet, though she knew from the news coverage on the radio that the job had ended hours earlier. She fought against the urge to call him and make sure he was OK. 'If he needs me, he'll call.'
To her surprise, Tina had fed the children and had also made sure they completed their homework. Instead of having the television tuned to the local channels, she had let the kids watch Disney movies, so they didn't know what had happened.
"I had a feeling that it might be awhile before you could retrieve the kids," she assured the actress. "It's just what we do for family."
"That sounds familiar!" Lyla grinned. "But I'd feel better if I paid you for watching and feeding them."
Tina shook her head. "No charge. I might need a favor from you some day. That's how it works."
Though Tina was smiling, there was a slight edge to her voice that warned Lyla not to press the issue. Tina Lou might not be rolling in dough, but she made a comfortable living for her son and herself, and she still had her pride.
Lyla smiled back and nodded in affirmation as she gathered the children together. "I really appreciate this," she stated. "Especially considering how little advance notice we gave you!"
"You get used to that kind of thing in this life," Tina Lou grinned. "I was glad to help. You and Opie should come by some night for dinner. Other than the lock down, I've not seen him for ages!"
"We'll do that!" Lyla assured the widow, shepherding the children to the Prius. "I'll check on a date with Opie and let you know."
Tina waved at the kids, who chorused a rousing "Thank you!" over their shoulders before they settled in the car. She continued watching over Lyla and the children until they were safely in the car and the Prius pulled away from the house.
"Will Daddy be home when we get there?" Ellie asked from the back seat.
"I don't know, honey. He's had a pretty busy day."
"He's always busy!" Ellie pouted. "Too busy for us! He's been like that since Mommy died."
"Does he blame us?" Kenny added.
Lyla stared in shock in the rear view mirror at the two children. Her heart ached for them. "No, babies. He misses her, and he doesn't want to make you unhappy by being unhappy around you."
"But he's let you and Piper move in with us! How can he be unhappy now?" Ellie insisted.
Lyla sighed. "It's difficult to explain, honey. Adults don't always react to things the way you expect. Your father loves you, otherwise he wouldn't try to protect you."
Piper turned in his seat to look at the other two children. "I lost my daddy a long time ago, but I still miss him. Sometimes that makes me sad. But I like Opie, and hope maybe he'll be my new daddy. Then we'd be real siblings!"
"Yeah, that would be pretty neat," Kenny remarked.
"I think Lyla would be a nice mom," Ellie stated. "Would you like to be our mom?"
'Out of the mouths of babes!' Lyla thought to herself, fighting back her tears. "I'd like that very much."
"Then we'll have to work on persuading Daddy!" Kenny decided.
Ellie nodded in agreement. "We'll start on that tonight!"
Lyla smiled and concentrated on her driving. 'I don't think you'll have to work very hard on him!'
"OK, that's a wrap!" Windover's voice announced over Payne's earbud. "Good job, everyone! R Jay, you don't need to worry about us doing continuing coverage during prime time. Go ahead and film a couple of promos for the station breaks and get them to us, then see if you can do that follow up with Unser about surviving the ambush."
Payne nodded and held the microphone up to his face. "We'll get some more 'B' roll of CPD while we're at it, showing how lonely it looks after the shutdown."
"Sounds good. Stay in touch," Windover replied.
"It's going to be hard to interview the chief," the camera operator remarked, accepting the microphone from the reporter and placing it in the camcorder case.
"Why?"
"He left while you were doing the last stand up," the camera operator explained, pointing to the vacant space where Unser's squad car had been parked.
"Shit! He promised to let me interview him!" Payne stamped his foot in frustration.
"Maybe he forgot. He did get a pretty good blow to the head!"
Payne's temper cooled as quickly as it'd heated up. "You're right. He's probably taking the squad car back to CPD. Let's go!"
"I'm ready when you are," the camera operator smirked, sliding behind the steering wheel and starting the van.
Tara was more than happy to allow Abel to spend the night with Gemma. She needed to decompress from the kidnapping, something she hadn't had time to engage in.
'Having Abel with her will keep Gemma calm. I'm surprised seeing the club turn on Jax didn't cause her heart to act up!' She thought, grabbing a beer from the refrigerator and curling up on the couch to think.
Though she and Jax had talked about the 'dick move' the night before, they didn't discuss her ordeal with Salazar. She needed to process it herself before she could discuss it with anyone else, including Jax.
'As much as it upset me for the club to turn on him, it was worse to see him being led away to that wagon!' She observed to herself. 'I'll never forgive Stahl for all the turmoil she's caused!'
Her anger at Stahl was legitimate. Stahl's lie about Gemma killing Edmond Hayes had kept her riding an emotional roller coaster full of slow risings and abrupt dives. She remembered her own feelings of fear and subsequent self - loathing the day Abel was kidnapped and Half - Sack killed in front of her.
She'd cowered like a frightened mouse before the grief - stricken Cameron Hayes. While David Hale held her and let her sob her heart out in his embrace, Tara felt like the world's biggest coward. 'I didn't even try to help Sack!' She thought at the time. 'All I did was shake like a leaf caught in a tornado!'
From that day on, that experience had changed her, and she wasn't sure if she liked those changes. 'It's almost like a rip off of Star Wars,' she snorted derisively. 'I feel like I've been seduced by the dark side of the force, and didn't get a single cookie!'
The first time she'd been involved in a death, she'd been sick to her stomach. That was when Jax shot Agent Kohn in front of her while she was living at her father's house. She'd cowered like a frightened mouse beside Half - Sack as he bled out on the floor of Jax's home instead of trying to save his life. He'd been mortally wounded by Cameron Hayes, who had come to Jax's home seeking revenge for his son, supposedly killed by Gemma.
Instead of comforting her and assuring her she'd been right to cooperate with Hayes, Jax shut her out, giving in to his own pain and sorrow. Her emotions plummeted when he announced he was going to break off with her the day of Half - Sack's funeral. Her reaction had been one of rage as she tore up the nursery. They reconciled before the funeral, but it was a very fragile reconciliation.
When Tara was confronted with a third life or death situation, she had surprised herself by rising to the occasion and taking an active part in it. The Guatemalan caregiver for Gemma's father was the victim this time. Gemma had the caregiver taped to her mother's wheel chair in the basement to prevent Amelia from turning her in to the authorities. A confused Nate had taken the family car, causing Gemma considerable concern. When she asked Amelia for help, the caregiver had refused, earning a slug to the face.
Giving in to her compunction to heal, Tara had gone back to the basement to tend Amelia's wound. The caregiver had convinced her to free one hand to allow the blood to circulate. Tara's compassion was rewarded with a knock to the head with an oxygen tank while her back was turned. When she came to, slightly disoriented, nauseous, and angry, she'd crept up the stairs and caught Amelia threatening Gemma with a knife. Tara had grabbed a heavy 'praying hands' statue and slammed it against the caregiver's back, knocking her off balance.
Gemma had fought Amelia for the knife, which wound up buried hilt deep in the caregiver's chest, killing her instantly. 'I'm a healer, not a murderer!' The guilty inward cry echoed in her head after she confirmed that Amelia was dead.
The crazy roller coaster ride continued raging havoc with her emotions. So did her hormones. By the time she'd helped kill Amelia, Tara had determined she was pregnant. With the on again/off again status of her relationship with Jax, she wasn't sure she wanted to bring a child into it.
Tara sipped at the beer instead of guzzling it. She needed something to calm her, but she didn't want to do any harm to her baby. Her free hand moved to caress her stomach. She wasn't showing yet, but the ultrasound had confirmed what she already knew. A tiny life was forming inside her. A life that she had intended to end just a few days ago.
'In a way, Salazar did me a big favor. Had he not captured me and Margaret, I would've gone ahead with the abortion. That might've killed any chance Jax and I had to make a future with each other!'
While they were in Belfast to retrieve Abel, Gemma had let it slip that Tara was pregnant. It was intended to shock Jax into not giving his son up to another family as arranged by Father Ashby, Maureen's brother.
Tara wasn't sure if it were the protective instinct of a prospective mother, or the darker nature of 'the life' that kept her from falling apart while in Salazar and Luisa's clutches. She'd been calm, and thought her way through each crisis. She'd calmly and quickly struck out at Luisa when the opportunity presented itself, slashing the carotid artery in the girl's throat.
'Then I had to go and let my healer persona take the lead!' Tara winced, recalling how she'd negotiated Margaret's release by offering to stay behind to treat Luisa. Salazar had agreed, but Luisa died, sending Salazar on a murderous rampage.
"The bottom line is that I killed someone. I actually killed someone with these hands!" She spread her fingers out in front of her, surprised she didn't see blood dripping from them. Hers were a surgeon's hands, not a killer's hands. She had saved more lives than she'd taken, and because she'd taken a life, she would be able to save more small lives that might otherwise die.
"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one." The phrase from a Charles Dickens classic she'd been required to read in high school came back to her with the force of a hurricane. "I did what I had to do to survive to care for those that need my hands and my skills. Maybe it wasn't the right answer, but it was the best I could do at the time. Torturing myself for taking a life won't bring it back."
Healing tears ran down her cheeks. Tara was at an emotional crossroads. She could either wallow in misery and self loathing for causing Luisa's death, or she could choose to rise above it and go on about the task of living.
The doorbell rang, cutting into her reverie. She was tempted to ignore it. No one but the club knew she was there, and the club could wait. The doorbell rang again, followed by an insistent knocking on the door.
"Tara, we know you're in there! It's Phil and Miles!" Phil cried through the door. "We've brought you a letter from Jax!"
Tara sniffled and dried her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. She knew her face would be blotchy from crying. 'Likely they'll think it's because of Jax being taken away!" She stood up and moved to the door, opening it reluctantly.
"Are you a'right?" Miles asked.
"I've had better days," she replied ruefully, standing aside to allow them to enter.
The two prospects stood on the doorstep. Phil held an envelope in his hand and presented it to Tara. "Jax wanted you to have this. You have to destroy it after you read it."
Tara took the envelope from the prospect's hand, gazing at her name written in Jax's distinctive hand. "Why do I have to destroy it?"
"You'll know once you've read it," Phil replied.
"Do you need us to hang around while; keep you company?" Miles added. "You look like it's been a rough evening for you."
"No, thanks anyway," Tara assured them. "I'll be fine."
They gazed intently at her, then exchanged looks. Her voice was strong and clear despite the tear stains on her face. They gave each other a slight nod and turned away from the door.
"Good night, then," Phil murmured.
"Feel free to call any of us if you need to," Miles advised as Tara started to close the door.
"I'll remember that," she smiled. "Be safe, you two." She closed the door and locked it, leaning against the solid wood while she gazed at the envelope. When she heard the roar of the twin Harleys fade from the driveway, she returned to the couch and tore open the envelope.
The bar was dark. Only a few patrons were inside. Some sat at the bar hunched over their drinks. A few couples sat in booths, sharing secrets over their libations. A juke box played a variety of old pop, rock, and country tunes. The ambient noise wasn't loud enough to keep people from conducting a decent conversation. But it would prevent the casual observer from eavesdropping, and that suited Agent Mendes.
The bar was one the team often frequented, especially after a very intense assignment. They always sat in the same booth at the back of the bar, away from the rest of the customers so they could drink beer and decompress. They would laugh and joke in the macabre way cops would behave to 'come down' after a trying assignment.
Mendes and the surviving members of the team sat morosely in their spot, waiting for the waitress to bring their pitchers of beer and frosty mugs. It was now an all male team, the other men looked to him as their leader. Mendes felt the mantle of leadership weigh down his shoulders like a wet blanket.
'I wouldn't feel bad about leading the team now if this happened through a merit promotion. It totally blows getting it this way!' Mendes glanced at the rest of the team. Their expressions mirrored his own shock and despair over the investigation into Agent Stahl and the loss of Agent Tyler.
The waitress deposited a tray bearing two pitchers of frothy amber ale and four frosted mugs. She set the items on the table and glanced at the quartet. She knew them as well as she knew any of the regulars. She knew from the television news that they'd gone through an especially difficult day.
"Mac's fixin' some wings for you. It's not good to drink on an empty stomach," she remarked.
"We didn't order any wings!" Mendes protested.
"It's our way of sayin' 'thanks' for bein' here. I'll bring 'em over when they're ready," the waitress replied before turning away. The television was turned off out of respect for the agents.
The other agents had poured the golden liquid into the cold crystal mugs. A full mug was ready for Mendes. They raised their mugs in unison, nodded, then drank a silent toast in memory of Tyler.
The waitress returned with white dessert plates and a heaping platter of wings. Steam drifted from the platter, indicating they'd just come out of the fryer. Dipping sauces accompanied the wings. "Just signal me when you want refills," she stated before leaving them alone again.
The agents didn't help themselves to the bountiful food, though their stomachs rumbled from hunger. The other three gazed inquiringly at Mendes, looking to him for answers.
"I don't know what to tell you guys," he stated flatly. "The first I knew of this was when I talked to Carey, same as you!"
"The news that she and Tyler were involved didn't surprise me," one of the team members replied.
"What do you mean?" A third challenged. "It surprised the shit outta me!"
"I'm not casting aspersions on them," the first agent protested. "They always behaved professionally in the office. Too professionally. That's what clued me in that something might be going on."
"Oh," the second agent sat back against the chair, staring into his half consumed beer.
"The intel that she was behind the bad shoot in Galt didn't surprise me, either," the third agent spoke up.
Mendes and the other two glared at him in surprise. "Care to share?" Mendes growled.
The third agent shrugged and took a sip of beer before replying. "Stahl put out the broadcast about Gemma Morrow shooting both Edmond Hayes and Patty Zobelle, slugging her, and then escaping. Then Morrow tells the story a little differently, that she saw Tyler kill Edmond Hayes. Tyler wasn't on duty that day, remember?"
Mendes nodded. He did remember. That's why he was confused when the bullpen grapevine rumbled that Tyler was under investigation for the bad Galt shoot. Yet, when he'd checked the duty roster, her name was suddenly there. "Stahl was setting her own partner up for the bad shoot!" He breathed.
"Buy how could anyone to that kind of thing to their partner?" The second agent inquired.
"You'd be surprised how low a person will go when they're desperate!" The third replied grimly. "Stahl was really desperate to prove herself after Sullins put her back in charge of the NorCal/IRA case."
"But she seemed to be really upset about Tyler this morning!" Mendes protested.
"That's the key word, pal," the third agent laughed grimly. "She was acting upset about Tyler."
"I always worried about that temper of hers," the second agent remarked. "It always flared up when things didn't turn out as she expected."
"Yeah," the first agent added. "Remember at the military store in Galt when we found two rats in that box instead of unregistered guns?"
"Yeah," the second agent nodded. "She nearly threw Eddie through a glass case after that MC left!"
"That's nothing compared to the explosion she had when we opened the van this afternoon and Jimmy O wasn't inside!" The third reminded them with a slight smirk.
"Look, guys, Stahl might've gone bad, but she was a good agent once," Mendes reminded them gruffly. His voice was so low that his team mates had to lean forward to hear him. "I think she got addicted to the rush of success that brought her here."
"That's no excuse, man. You don't do what she did to her partner!" The third agent snorted.
"True," Mendes acknowledged. "The NorCal/IRA case would've given any agent's career a major boost. We'd all have been promoted if our team cracked it. Stahl was assigned to our team after she'd been transferred here after solving that big case out East."
"Yeah, I remember that. What made her change?" The second agent observed.
"I don't think we'll ever know, guys," Mendes sighed. "At least we can take some comfort in having Viktor Putlova in custody."
"Hear! Hear!" The other three chorused, lifting their mugs in salute. They downed the remains of their beer, then started in on the wings.
Viktor Putlova smiled saucily at the stern ATF agent escorting him and his men from the holding cell. It had taken his lawyer more than four hours to secure his release instead of the one he's boasted about. Still, he was free on a modest bond, and the lawyer was already working to get the arrest thrown out.
"Don't look so unhappy!" Putlova taunted the agent. "You had a taste of winning, you just got too cocky!"
The agent shrugged, unwilling to rise to the bait Putlova dangled in front of him. The Russian mobster paused at a counter where his belongings were handed back to him and his men. The quintet marched triumphantly to the door that would lead them to the lobby.
"Better luck next time!" Putlova called over his shoulder as he strode out the door. His henchmen and the lawyer following behind him. He remained silent until he was safely inside his SUV, with his lawyer sitting next to him. The henchmen remained outside.
"I vant you to find out how the Feds knew about the transfer and the money," Putlova informed his lawyer. "I vant the name of the rat responsible, and I vant that rat dealt vith!"
"That's going to take time, Viktor," the lawyer replied.
Putlova turned his cold gaze on the lawyer. "I don't care how long it takes. Get that intel."
Chills raced down the lawyer's spine. He was already in deep shit just for allowing Putlova to spend more than five minutes in lock up. Putlova was slow to anger, but once he was angry, he was like a bull in a china shop.
"I'll get right to work on it," the laywer assured his client.
Tara felt as if a large burden had been lifted from her heart after she read Jax's letter. She was miffed that he hadn't shared all of the plan with her, citing an unanimous club vote as the reason. "You and I have a different interpretation of 'full disclosure', fella!" She snorted. She could appreciate the club's reasoning, but it still annoyed her that Jax would willingly keep a secret from her at all.
"Stahl's dead, and I'm relieved!" She exclaimed. "She won't be bothering us any more with her lies!" She hoped Opie had been the one to pull the trigger; he'd been the one most hurt by Stahl's mechinations.
Jax had requested that she destroy the letter after she read it. She had every intention of doing so, but not right away. Besides the duffel full of dirty clothes Jax had brought back from Belfast, several soiled onesies needed washing. There was also some light housekeeping to be done.
'Not that anyone was here to take care of the dusting and other chores!' She noted dryly to herself, gathering Abel's dirty clothes into the laundry basket.
Jax's duffel bag was lying on the floor of the nursery. She dumped the contents into the laundry basket, frowning at the sight of a bundle of letters tied in red ribbon. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously at the bundle as she picked it up and turned it over.
On top of the bundle was a note from Maureen Ashby to Jax written on her store stationary. In the letter, Maureen encouraged Jax to read his father's letters to her in the hopes he would come to know the man she had known and loved.
Tara left the laundry basket on the nursery floor and sat down on the sofa with the packet of letters. It would be months before Jax would have a chance to read the letters. There was no way she would trust them to the prison system.
'He's so conflicted about his father. One minute he wants to follow in John's path, the next he doesn't want anything to do with him. I don't know if reading these letters will help him or not, but I intend to find out!'
She didn't feel one iota of guilt over what she was going to do. She slipped the top envelope out of the bundle, withdrew the letter, and began reading.
Unser pulled his patrol car into the CPD lot for the last time, parking it in the back with the other squad cars. The building was dark and quiet, a far cry from the bustling center of justice it had been just a few hours ago.
His pick up truck was parked nearby. He closed and locked the squad car, placing the keys in the overnight drop. The doors to CPD were locked tight and he had no desire to go inside to a dark, empty building. He walked slowly towards his pick up, each step seemed harder to make than the one before it. He was completely exhausted. All he wanted to do was go home and go to bed.
A set of headlights engulfed in their bright glare, making him pause and stare at it like a deer caught in out on the road before a vehicle hit it. His hand went involuntarily to his holster, only to find it empty. He'd left his service weapon in the building and the little silver revolver was in ATF custody.
The vehicle stopped just inside the parking lot and the lights went out. The passenger side door opened, allowing Unser to see that the vehicle was a van. A figure leaned out of the open door and called, "It's R J Payne, Chief! I came by to get your interview about the ambush!"
"Shit!" Unser muttered to himself. He sighed and waited for the reporter to catch up with him, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Sorry if we startled you, Chief!" Payne stated as he stopped in front of the former law officer. "I figured you were so tired that you forgot about the interview, so we followed you here."
"Won't you get in trouble with your boss for leaving the scene?" Unser growled.
"We're between newscasts, so I've got time to film this and get it edited for the late broadcast," Payne explained, taking the microphone from his camera operator. "We can do it right here in front of CPD headquarters and get it over with."
'What was that Cat said this morning about inevitable?' He sighed to himself. "Fine. I don't mean to be rude, but I have a whopper of a headache and want to go home."
"Sure, Chief! I understand!" Payne replied sympathetically. "This won't take long at all!"
Unser sighed again and trudged after the reporter. 'He would want to use the front entrance for the interview!' He groaned to himself. His feet felt like lead weights, making the short distance seem a lot longer and more arduous to traverse.
"Just stand right there, next to the lettering on the wall," Payne advised, glancing at his camera operator to make sure there was enough light and the shot would work. At a nod from the camera operator, Payne faced the camera and gave a countdown.
Ally Lowen was dozing in front of the television when the late night Channel 2 news began. She bolted upright in her chair when she heard the teaser that Agent Stahl and Jimmy O'Phelan had been killed in an ambush.
'I've got a bad feeling about this!'
She leaned forward in her chair, listening intently to Payne's report and relaxed when it became apparent that SAMCRO had nothing to do with the murders. Her ears pricked up when Payne's sidebar about Stahl began.
She reached for a pen and notepad she kept handy and jotted notes as the story was presented. Her eyebrows knit in concentration as she worked. 'Stahl was under investigation by IAD! This is going to put a totally different spin on Gem's sentence!'
She began a draft to petition the court for release of the IAD's findings on Stahl's unlawful activities under the 'Freedom of Information' act. 'If Stahl was acting to hide her own illegal activities, I might be able to get Gemma's sentence reduced or even thrown out due to coercion!' Ally thought excitedly. "Maybe it'll get the club out of jail sooner!"
She'd need to make use of the firm's legal library. She didn't have the resources at home to perform the research she needed. It meant a late night and little sleep, but that was part of the price of doing business. She slipped her feet into sneakers, grabbed her purse, the notepad, and her keys, and rushed out the door. Moments later, she was on the way to the law office.
Gemma sent Lyla home to be with Opie shortly after Neda left.
"I can stay if you need me to," Lyla protested, though she inwardly wanted to be with Opie.
"No, I appreciate your offer, but there's no need. I'm a'right now," Gemma assured her.
"Call me if you need anything, OK?"
"Of course," Gemma assured her, walking her to the door. She stood in the doorway watching until Lyla got into her car. She gave the porn star a friendly goodbye wave and shut the door behind her.
Abel was sound asleep in the crib Gemma had set up for him in Jax's old room. She went in to check on him, smiling softly at his innocent features. 'He looks like an angel!' She sighed.
Gemma returned to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. Her mind was whirling from the letter Jax had sent to her. She had yet to destroy the letter, as she wanted to read it through once more.
She glanced at the clock on the wall, reached for the remote, and turned on the television to the news. Like Tig's wife, she had developed a preference for Channel 2's newscasts. She was just in time to catch the start of the late night news and the lead story about Stahl and Jimmy O.
'That's where the boys went off to!' Gemma thought, recognizing Chibs' work from the description of the wounds to Jimmy's face. 'And Opie finally got vengeance for Donna! That will smooth things over between him and Lyla.'
She was further intrigued when Payne's sidebar about Stahl being the subject of an IAD investigation into Tyler's death. "I knew it!" She cried.
"Agent Jonas Carey, of the ATF's Internal Affairs Division, is in charge of the investigation. Acting on information provided by Channel 2's Assignment Editor, James Windover, Carey had this to say about the investigation," Payne stated.
The television was filled with Carey's stern features. "We received a tip that Agent Stahl was behind her partner's death. Acting on that tip, which was provided by Channel 2's Assignment Editor, our division has obtained evidence that was used to issue an arrest warrant for Stahl this afternoon."
"What was the nature of the warrant?" One of the other reporters at the scene cried.
"Stahl was being charged with the murder of Agent Tyler, and falsifying evidence. I cannot and will not go into any further detail at this time."
Gemma turned off the television and reached for her cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts and selected Lowen's telephone number.
"I know, Gemma. I'm already on it," Ally stated when she answered the phone.
"Where are you?"
"On my way to the office library. This is going to take some research. I'm not going to make you any promises."
"But there's a chance you'll be able to get this awful bracelet off my ankle before six months is out?"
Ally sighed in resignation. "There's always a chance, Gemma. It's all on how I twist the law to work for you."
"I'll leave you to it, then," Gemma replied, feeling suddenly more hopeful than she'd felt since she'd first read Jax's letter.
She decided to call the nursing home where her father was now living. 'I know they won't let me talk to him this late, but the nurses can tell me how he's doing!'
She dialed the number to the nurses' station and waited patiently for an answer.
"Hi. This is Gemma Morrow. I'm Rev. Madock's daughter calling from Charming, CA. I'm sorry to be calling so late. Can you tell me how he's doing?"
There was a slight pause on the other end of the line, then the nurse stated. "He's deteriorated quite a lot since he was admitted, Ms. Morrow. Physically, he's fine, but emotionally, he's very depressed."
"Damn!" Gemma whispered. "I was afraid of that. I've been ill, just got out of the hospital in fact, otherwise I'd have called a long time ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am. If we'd known, we could've informed your father. He feels like he's been abandoned. When he's not calling for his wife, then he's calling for you. It's gotten so bad that we've had to sedate him so he doesn't upset the other patients on the unit," the nurse explained.
"Can I talk to him? Maybe hearing my voice will help!"
"I'm sorry," the nurse stated in an not very apologetic tone. "It's too late. He's quiet right now. If you'll call back tomorrow, one of the staff will let you speak to him."
"I will!" Gemma promised, pressing the 'end call' key. She knew the nurse had initially blamed her for her father's depression. 'That's why the gash made that comment about abandoning him! Hope she feels stupid about it after hearing I was in the hospital myself!'
Gemma didn't feel any remorse over stretching the truth with the nurse. She had been in the hospital, but she'd also been in Ireland for a few days as well. 'What that bitch doesn't know won't hurt her or my father!'
Cat stared in amazement at the television screen. She'd tuned into the Channel 2 late evening newscast to watch their coverage of the day's events at Chibs' insistence.
"Ye'll naiver belayve it ifn ye donnae watch fer yerself!"
They'd eaten a meal she'd ordered from one of Henry Lin's restaurants. To her surprise, Chibs paid for the meal and delivery. She was hungry, but her normally light appetite was further lessened from missing Alex. She forced a few mouthfuls down her throat at both her friends' insistence.
"Ah'm noot plannin' on taykin' enny o'this s 'Boobuglee' shite hoom wi' me, so eat up, woman!" Chibs admonished.
"It's 'bubogli' and it's not shite," she informed him. "It's Korean marinated beef and very tasty."
"Ah dinnae caire ifn it's Angus beef! Ye liyke it, ye eat it!"
"I am, and what I don't eat now will be fine tomorrow!" She snorted.
The delivery included fortune cookies, but the fortunes failed to lift her spirits, even when the use of the 'magic words' at the end of the fortune were employed. Chuckie howled at his fortune when 'in bed' was applied to the end.
"Ye shuld be so lucky!" Chibs laughed.
"I accept that!" Chuckie wheezed.
The lead off story was the deaths of Agent Stahl and Jimmy O'Phelan. Cat listened intently to Payne's report, glancing knowingly at Chibs when O'Phelan's wounds were described. Her uplifted eyebrows eloquently asked if he were responsible.
Chibs nodded slightly. It was the only affirmation he would give that he had bestowed the 'Glasgow smile' on Jimmy before killing him. 'Is tha' gonna mayke me less o' a purson ta ye?'
"As it should be," Cat murmured just loud enough for him to hear.
She leaned forward, nearly falling into the screen when Payne's sidebar about the IAD investigation into Stahl followed the murder coverage.
"You boys were busy!" She muttered to Chibs so that Chuckie wouldn't hear her.
"Aye, though we didnae 'ave ennythin' to do wi' tha' last bit!" He acknowledged softly.
"Wow! A rouge agent!" Chuckie remarked, completely oblivious to the conversation that had taken place between Cat and Chibs. "No wonder I didn't like her!"
"What's this mean for Gemma and the guys?" Cat inquired. Though she tried not to give in to the urge, a faint note of hope was present in her voice.
"Ah donnae kin ryte noo, Laidy Cat," Chibs admitted. "Tha' guys bond wuz gonna be revoked ennyway. Ifn noot fer tha' agreement, they culda 'ad ta do years instead o'months unner tha tree strykes rool, as moost o'em wulda bin victim to tha'."
"So y'all are tellin' not to get my hopes up about 'em gettin' out before the next 14 months are up!" Cat observed dryly.
"Aye," Chibs sighed. "As fer Gem, tha' remaynes ta be seen."
"Knowin' Ally, she's goin' to raise all kinds of Hell to get Gemma's home detention squashed," Cat remarked.
"Aye, she jist myte at tha'."
Though Cat seemed to be handling the news about Tig's imprisonment well, neither Chibs nor Chuckie were willing to leave her alone that night. Chuckie took up residence in his old room while Chibs prepared to spend the night on the couch.
"Y'all don't have to babysit me," Cat huffed when they refused to leave her alone. "It's not like I'm gonna do somethin' dumb like stick my head in the oven!"
"We kin tha', boot we're stayin' ennyway!" Chibs retorted. He could just as stubborn as his heart sister when he wanted to be.
"It's not that we don't trust you, Miss Cat," Chuckie added. "It's just that we'd feel better if we stayed!"
"Me liddle sweet'eart is 'appy whair she is rite noow," Chibs continued, pointing to the purring ball of fur curled up in his lap. "Ah dinnae want ta disterb 'er." He was laying with his head propped against one arm of the sofa.
"Y'all are spoilin' her rotten!" Cat replied, grudgingly giving in to her friends. "I guess there's no choice but to accept the fact that y'all are stayin' overnight!"
Chibs and Chuckie exchanged triumphant grins. Cat removed a blanket from the cedar chest, laying it and a pillow on the sofa for Chibs to use.
"G'nite y'all," she stated to her guests, going through the house to make sure all the doors and windows were secured. She tried not to think of how long it would be before Alex would be back to resume that nightly ritual.
She limped on into the bedroom, closed the door, and placed a cassette in the tape machine. She was in the mood for something different than story songs. The tape happened to hold various selections from British artists like Tim Curry and Michael Crawford, and other great singers from the West End Theatre.
She opened the drawer to the night table on her side of the bed where Piwacket, the stuffed Siamese she'd had since childhood, had been relegated out of respect for Alex's fear of dolls. Pi had been her companion during all the eye operations she'd endured in childhood, and kept the nightmares away. The stuffed animal's plush had been redone many times over the years. Cat couldn't bear to part with him.
Instead of finding Pi's smiling face staring up at her, she found Alex's work shirt from the garage. She lifted the shirt from the drawer and held it to her nose, inhaling her man's unique scent. Tears welled in her eyes at the gesture. "Damn you, Alex!"
She slipped out of her clothes and into Alex's shirt. It was big on her, covering her chest and butt. His scent comforted her more than Pi and her felines. The little girl in her lifted Pi from the drawer and buried her face in the soft felt. The shirt had covered Pi long enough that Alex's aroma was imbedded in the stuffed animal.
Ramin Karimloo was crooning one of the songs from 'Les Miserables'. The tune was 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables'. She frowned at the weird sense of humor Karma was displaying. She'd just paraphrased the title during her phone conversation with Alex. The 25th anniversary celebration of the Broadway production had aired on PBS a few nights' earlier. 'Maybe it's on my mind because of that broadcast! I don't remember addin' it to this tape!'
Cat crawled into bed, holding the stuffed animal next to her face. She felt safe and protected, as if Alex was there in bed with her. While the tape player continued playing her favorite British singers, she allowed the tears she'd been holding back all evening to flow.
She didn't sob or make any other noise, just cried hot tears of anger and regret over the entire circumstance. 'We knew this day would come for some time. Knowin' it's comin' never makes it easy to accept!'
Tara slid the last letter in its envelope and rubbed her tired eyes. She'd lost track of time from reading all the letters. There was no doubt that JT had loved Maureen, it was right there in his letters to her. There was also fear that his wife and best friend would be the cause of his demise. He wanted to take the club out of the gun business, which Clay was against.
'What would make Gemma give her loyalty and love to Clay when she's so fierce about family?' Tara wondered to himself. 'Granted, JT had turned to another woman and made another family in Ireland, but that wouldn't be enough reason for Gemma to want JT dead.'
She knew Clay was capable of such a thing. That's why she was always a little reserved around him. He didn't have the hair trigger temper that Jax displayed. His anger was cold and menacing. 'I can definitely see him putting out a contract or whatever on Jax's father!' The idea made her shudder.
JT's constant references to his eventual death being on Clay's hands made her more curious about the accident that had killed him. Jax never wanted to talk about it. She barely remembered the event, except that John had lingered for several days after the accident and that Jax had felt lost without his father.
'There should be a record in CPD's or the sheriff's files!' She thought, picking up the laundry basket and carrying it to the washer. 'I might even be able to find the news stories and a copy of the accident report on line!'
It was much too late for her to run the washer, so she left the laundry basket on top of the appliance, intending to get the job done in the morning. 'At least I won't have to worry about Gemma dropping in!'
She yawned and stretched, then turned out the lights in the house and locked the door. Tara wondered if she'd have any trouble falling asleep without Jax beside her. She slid between the cool sheets, turning onto her side as she drew the covers over her and turned off the light.
Chibs reclined on the couch long after Cat had departed to the master bedroom. Misty was sound asleep, curled up on his stomach.
He grinned at the sleeping ball of fur. The feline hadn't flicked an ear when her person petted her head and said goodnight to her.
"Aire ye shurt yer a'rite, lass?" Chibs asked concernedly.
"Good night, Chibs," Cat replied insistently, blowing a kiss at him as she limped towards her bedroom.
"Wal, tha' tole me!" He grinned to himself, digging his cell phone from his jeans without disturbing the cat. He kept one ear open for any sounds of distress from the master bedroom while he waited for Fiona to answer.
"'Tis aboot tyme, Filip!" She sighed breathlessly in his ear. "Ah wuz gittin' werried!"
"Nootin' fer ye ta werry aboot, luv," he replied reassuringly. "Eveythin's a'right."
"Ah couldnae 'elp it, Filip. Whin it kept gittin' layter past tha' tyme ye said ye'd call - "
"Ah kin," he interjected. "Ah'm sorry, luv. It's bin kinda bizzy 'ere."
"Ah kin imagine!" Fiona retorted.
"Whai'r Kerrianne?"
"In 'er room, lystnin' ta whut tha' kids call moozik these days. Want me ta cull 'er?"
"Nay. Noot yet. Got sum nooz fer ye aboot Jimmy." Chibs paused a moment, then added grimly, "Ah kilt tha basturd."
Fiona closed her eyes in relief. Jimmy would never threaten her or their child again. "Gud," she sighed in relief.
"Dinnae let yer guard down yet, Fi," Chibs cautioned her. "Jimmy's peepul culd coom lookin' fer revenge."
"We'll stay 'ere in tha' alley until school's oot," she assured him. "Do ye wanna talk ta Kerrianne noo?"
"Aye," he replied.
"Ye go ahid un tell her aboot Jimmy. She'll be relayved ta 'ear it frum ye."
He heard the light sounds of her steps, then a prefunctory tap on a wood door.
"Mum!" came a plaintive wail, indicating to Chibs that his wife had unceremoniously yanked the earplugs from her daughter's ears.
"Dinna gie me yer lip, dawter! Yer fadder wants ta talk ta ye!"
"Daddy!" Kerrianne's voice warmed his heart.
"Hi, baby. Eveythin's a'rite. Jis culled ta tell ye thair's no muir raysun ta werry aboot Jimmy. 'E isnae gonna bother ye enny muir. E's ded."
"Did ye kill 'em?"
"Aye," he sighed in resignation. "Ah made 'im pay fer alla tha' 'urt 'e's caused us."
"Thank ye, Daddy," she sighed in relief. "Ah love ye."
"Ah love ye, too," he replied warmly. His heart felt full from the love expressed in the reactions from his wife and daughter. "Ye mind yer mum, und Ah'll see ye inna few months win school's oot."
"Aye, Daddy. 'Ere's Mum."
Another brief pause as the phone changed hands.
"Air ye goin' ta tell me 'ow Jimmy's deaf came aboot?" Fiona inquired.
He hadn't told her about the plan. Even though Fiona was in Belfast, Chibs had stayed true to the vote. Now that everything was over, he could bring her up to speed.
"Gud Gawd, Filip!" Fiona gasped. "Un tha bhoys aire in ferteen months?"
"Aye. Boot tha Feds aire gonna 'onor tha deal Stahl mayde wi' Jaxie bhoy. Ally gie us tha werd this mornin'." He decided it was best not to tell his wife where he'd gotten the word. Both women had gotten their hackles up at each other. No catfight had occurred, but there had been some hissing. 'Whut Fi dinnae know cain't hirt me!'
"An' Gemma?"
"She's on hoose arrest until tha ' end o' tha day," he replied. "Stahl's lies tripped her up, the Feds dropped the flight charge." There was no need to tell Fiona why. She knew Gemma hadn't just come to Belfast to find her grandson.
"Soonds lyke ye've bin bizzy since ye got hume," Fiona added.
"Aye. 'oow's thin's wi SAMBEL?"
"Thair strugglin', luv," Fiona admitted. "So many dead. Kerrianne misses 'er cuzin."
"Wha' 'appened ta Padraic's boddy?"
"Tha' club wint back an' brought 'em back. We buried Padraic yestidy. Kerrianne couldnae stop cryin'."
"Puir kid. 'E wuz lyke a beeg brudder ta 'er. Ah wisht ah wuz thair ta gie 'er a hoog."
"She'll grieve awhile, luv. It's natchral," Fiona assured him. "Trinity's bin a beeg 'elp wi' 'er. Bin lettin' 'er 'elp oot in tha' store."
"Thank 'er fer me, Fi," Chibs stated. "Ah luv ye."
"Luv ye too, darlin'. Gud nite."
"Nite," he sighed, turning off the phone and placing it on the table beside his head.
Misty rose, stretched, then settled back down onto his chest. She reached out a velvet paw to pat his cheek, as if telling him that she cared.
"Ah luv ye too, liddle gurrl," he whispered.
Ally rubbed her tired eyes and rotated her shoulders to ease the tense muscles. Law books were piled around her, and her legal pad was scribbled with notes. Though most of the law library was on computer, Ally found something comforting in searching through the volumes for legal precedents. It was much more satisfying than going on the internet for answers.
She had amassed a lot of information that would she felt would help her win complete freedom for Gemma if she had to take the case to court. 'I'm hoping that won't be necessary. The Feds have to agree to revoke Gem's house arrest! If not for Stahl's lies, Gemma wouldn't have gone on the lam both times, and her grandson never would've been kidnapped!'
She stood up and gathered the crumpled pieces of legal paper together. She'd run them through the shredder, then go home. The paralegals and clerks could return the books to their proper places on the shelves. She glanced at her watch and winced at the late hour.
'I'll have enough time to snooze a few hours, then shower and go to ATF headquarters to talk to Stahl's supervisor.' She ran the discarded legal sheets through the shredder, then turned off the lights and locked the door.
If Opie had been surprised by his children's request to make Lyla their new mother and by Piper asking him to be his Daddy, he didn't show it. 'Course, he doesn't show much emotion anyway!' Lyla mused to herself.
The children had crowded around him the minute he walked into the house. They'd clung to his legs and peppered him with questions. He'd actually smiled and sat down on the couch while they hung all over him.
"Whoa! Don't you think we're moving a little fast?" He asked his daughter.
Ellie gazed intensely at him. "I know you miss Mommy, but when you're with Lyla, you're not as sad and lonely."
"Yeah. We miss Mommy," Kenny added quickly, "but we also like it better when you're happy."
"And you think Lyla makes me happy?" He inquired solemnly, glancing over the children's heads at Lyla and winking.
"I know it!" Piper squealed. "And you make us happy, Opie!"
Opie ruffled the boys' hair and grinned widely at Lyla. "Think we should tell them?"
She nodded, her throat suddenly too tight to speak. She sat down beside him in answer to his invitation, putting her hand with the ring on it in his.
Opie held her hand out so the children could see his grandmother's ring on Lyla's finger. "It looks like we all agree. I asked Lyla to marry me last night, and she said yes!"
The children reacted first with shocked silence, staring the adults entwined hands and the ring on Lyla's finger. The silence didn't last long. Delighted shrieks filled the air as the children alternated hugs with the two adults.
The three children peppered Lyla and Opie with questions about the wedding, wanting to know when and where it would be, and if they could take part.
"I want to be a flower girl!" Ellie exclaimed.
"And I can be ring bearer!" Piper added.
"Would that make me your best man, Daddy?" Kenny asked solemnly.
Opie laughed in delight at the children's reaction. "Settle down, kids!" He cried over the din. "We just got engaged!"
Lyla was also smiling. She'd feared that the children might've lost their enthusiasm for a union between them from waiting so long for Opie to come home. "They're excited by the idea, Honey," she informed him.
"I can tell," he rumbled. "We've got plenty of time to plan, kids. It's late, and you have school in the morning!"
The children moaned in protest, then yawned in unison. Their eyes were already growing heavy from being up past their bedtime.
"I think you're right, Ope," Lyla added, getting up to shepherd the children to bed. "They can barely keep their eyes open."
Opie gave all three good night hugs and kisses, assuring them he'd be present in the morning before they left for school. While Lyla got them settled in bed, Opie removed his cut, carried it into the bedroom, and walked into the kitchen to rustle up something to eat.
As usual whenever he was out late, Lyla had fixed something for him and covered it with plastic wrap. It found the plate on the top shelf of the refrigerator, removed it, and placed it in the microwave to heat. While the microwave warmed up his meal, he retrieved a beer from the fridge, opened it, and took a satisfying pull from the bottle.
"They were asleep the minute their heads hit the pillow," Lyla informed him as she walked into the kitchen.
"I figured they would," Opie replied, turning to the microwave when it pinged to announce his meal was ready. He removed it from the appliance and set it on the table.
Lyla retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator and sat down next to him. She took a sip from the bottle, allowing him to eat a few bites before starting a conversation.
"You pulled the trigger on Stahl," she announced softly, making it a statement instead of a question.
Opie put down his utensils and stared at her. "You heard, then."
"I was still with Gemma when the prospects brought Jax's letter. She let me read it after her. Are you all right?"
Opie felt a rush of warmth rush through him from the concern evident in her expression and voice. Concern for him. She didn't have to ask why he'd taken the task. It was the 800 pound gorilla in the room with them, and she knew why he'd killed Stahl.
"I'm getting there," he replied, picking up his utensils and returning to his meal. "I took a long ride tonight to clear my head."
"Why?"
"I just felt numb after it was done,' he shrugged. "Thought I'd feel something like relief, or whatever that closure shit is that people talk about. I didn't feel anything!"
Lyla laid a hand over Opie's and squeezed it in understanding. "You've been through a lot in the last few months, baby. It's only natural to feel a bit let down after all the build up leading to an event like that."
"I guess you're right," he sighed, taking another pull from the beer bottle. "The kids seem OK with the idea of us getting married."
"Yes, they are. It was their idea to ask you about it, that's all they could talk about on the way home from Tina Lou's."
"Yeah. About a wedding date," Opie grunted. "I think we should wait until the guys are out of prison."
"That's over a year!" Lyla protested.
"I know. It'll give us some time, though."
"For what?" Lyla asked, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Well, for one, for us to find and get settled into a house of our own," Opie replied. "I thought you might like to start out our marriage in a house of your own."
Lyla sat back against the chair in some surprise. She'd been trying to figure out a way to broach that subject with Opie, but hadn't wanted to hurt his feelings, either. She recalled her comment to Tara the night she had the abortion, 'Donna's ghost is all over the place!'
"Lyla? Are you OK?" He asked tentatively, wondering if he'd misread the situation and made her mad.
"I'm definitely OK, lover!" She cried, sliding from her chair into his lap. She kissed him deeply and passionately, thanking him for recognizing what bothered her most and doing something ease her mind.
"I take it you approve of the idea?" He smiled when the kiss ended.
"Come with me and I'll show you just how much I approve!" She whispered huskily, taking him by the hand and leading him from the kitchen.
Waking at the crack of dawn had been a habit of Cat's since she'd opened the coffeehouse. Even though her employees handed opening duties, the old habit was hard to break.
Misty and Ming were curled up beside her. Their furry bodies were pressed as close as they could get, receiving comfort for what they sensed was a major change to their environment, and giving their 'human parent' comfort because they sensed her distress. Ebony wasn't any less sensitive to her distress. He was stretched out at the foot of the bed, snoring heavily as a twenty pound cat tended to do.
It felt weird to her not to have Alex in the bed next to her, knowing that it would be months before he'd return. 'That's a lot different from his other absences!' She observed wryly, glancing down at the work shirt she wore. Most early mornings, she woke up in her birthday suit, no matter if she'd put on a gown or shirt before going to sleep. 'I think I'm goin' to miss that!'
Cat slipped out of bed and wrapped a robe around herself. She wanted to get the cats fed and open the cat door for them to get to the coffeehouse. She also wanted to put a breakfast casserole in the oven for her guests and set up the coffee pot.
'I don't think I'll sleep in Alex's shirt every night; don't want it to lose his scent! Maybe I'll keep it wrapped in an airtight plastic bag to keep it smellin' like him and wear it when I really need to.'
The feline trio hopped off the bed and followed her down the hall, anticipating their breakfast. She passed the closed library door where Chuckie was sleeping and sneaked past the sofa where Chibs lay under the blanket she'd provided for him.
'He sounds as noisy as Ebony with his snorin'!' Cat grinned to herself. She fed the cats, then readied the coffee pot and selected a frozen casserole. It contained eggs, hash browns, cheese, mushrooms, onions, ham, sausage, and green peppers. It was fully cooked, so she knew she could set the oven to warm and it would be ready when the men woke up.
She opened the door in the garage to the cat run, then limped back to the kitchen to find a suitable plastic bag. She finally opted for a large freezer bag that locked closed. She limped back to the bedroom, removed Alex's work shirt, and pulled a tee shirt over her head. Then she rolled Alex's work shirt and stuffed it in the locking freezer bag. She gazed at her handiwork and grinned in satisfaction. 'That ought to do the trick!' She placed the plastic bag in her night stand drawer and crawled back into bed.
She lay thinking back to the previous night and morning, and how many times she and Alex had made love, including in the back seat of the Challenger! 'I wondered why he needed that so often. Now it makes sense!' She was still a bit sore from the many encounters, but the only thing she'd change about it was the reason for them.
Her mind turned to the things she needed to do later that day, besides take care of her guests. She would need to talk to her staff about Alex's absence, and try to reach Colleen about his daughters. 'I'm not lookin' forward to that, but I'll do whatever it takes to get the girls to go see him!'
Ally's eyes snapped open at the sound of her alarm clock. She reached out with her eyes closed to turn it off, wishing she could turn over and sleep a few more hours. 'No, can't do that,' she sighed tiredly, rising into a sitting position in the bed. She glanced blearily at the clock and winced. She hadn't gotten much sleep, but a shower and some coffee would get her going.
The shower helped clear the cobwebs from her head. She stopped at 'Charming Pawse' on the way out of town to get a double shot latte for the road.
Pete usually had a smile and a few words for her, but he seemed subdued. "Are you OK, Pete?" She asked as he made her drink.
"Yeah, it's just going to be weird not having Mr. Tig and the rest of the club around for awhile," he sighed.
"Have you heard from Cat about it?" She accepted the hot drink and took a sip. The caffeine rushed through her system, wiping the last of the fatigue from her.
"Not yet, but I'm sure we will," he replied.
"Knowing your boss, that's a certainty!"
"True dat. Have a good day, Ms. Lowen," he grinned.
She turned and left the coffeehouse for her car. She wanted to give the young man some assurances, but she also knew better than to raise his hopes unnecessarily. 'Best not to say anything until I know for sure.'
She went over her game plan during the drive to the ATF headquarters. She was showing up without an appointment, which meant she might have to wait for Agent Sullins to make time to meet with her. 'Though I'm hoping that showing up at the start of the day might help!'
She pulled into the visitor's lot, parked the car, and hauled her briefcase out of the back seat. Then Ally walked into the entrance to the ATF building to the front desk.
Though it was a few minutes before 8AM, a smartly dressed agent was already manning the front desk. "May I help you?" The agent asked in a professional manner.
"Attorney Ally Lowen to see Agent Richard Sullins," she announced, handing over her business card.
"Do you have an appointment?"
"No, but since Sullins was Agent Stahl's supervisor, he'll want to make time for me. I'm Gemma Teller Morrow's lawyer," she replied succinctly.
"I'll let him know you're here," the poker faced agent replied.
Ally turned to the chairs lining the lobby and sat down where she could watch the front entrance and the door leading to the offices. She didn't have long to wait. Agent Sullins stepped out into the lobby to greet her.
"Attorney Lowen," he stated quietly, not offering her his hand to shake. "I'm surprised you weren't here at the crack of dawn!"
Ally stood up and smiled grimly at him. "I considered it, but didn't relish the idea of cooling my heels out here any longer than I have to."
Sullins nodded and turned towards the door, motioning for her to follow him. She passed through into the inner sanctum of the ATF, following Sullins to a conference room.
"Take whatever seat you want, Ms. Lowen," Sullins informed her, striding to the table where Jonas Carey of the agency's internal affairs department and the director of the regional area were waiting with the US Attorney. "Want coffee?"
"Yes, please. Black."
Sullins poured coffee into Styrofoam cups and placed one in front of Ally before resuming the seat he'd vacated when the lawyer's presence was announced. "As you can see, we've been working on this situation for awhile."
Ally glanced at the stacks of files and notebooks on the table, then at the writing on the whiteboard behind the director's head. The mens' ties were loosened, and Carey looked especially fatigued.
"Nice to see our tax dollars are being well spent," she observed dryly, removing her own file folders and notebook from her briefcase. "You definitely have a mess on your hands, gentlemen."
"Tell us something we don't already know!" Carey snapped.
"Easy, Jonas!" The director admonished gently. Turning back to Ally, he added, "Jonas has been working full steam on the Stahl investigation since Tyler's murder."
Ally gazed sympathetically at Carey. "That would be enough to make me grumpy, too."
She took a sip of the very strong coffee and fought back a grimace. She set the cup down and gazed at each man before continuing, "I won't beat around the bush, gentlemen. I've come to request Gemma Teller Morrow's release from home detention and that the international flight charges be dropped."
She made eye contact with each man in an attempt to gauge their reaction to her opening salvo. Unlike Stahl, whose emotions were often plainly visible, the quartet remained stone faced. That made it difficult for Ally to tell if they were going to laugh at her or would seriously consider her request.
"I feel that we should be able to come to a mutual agreement without having to involve the courts," she continued, sitting back in her chair with a confidence she didn't feel. "Though I won't hesitate to file a brief if it becomes necessary."
"I don't think that'll be necessary," The US Attorney murmured.
"Guess we'll just have to wait and see," Ally retorted.
"Just for curiosity's sake, why do you believe Mrs. Morrow's charges should be dropped?" The director asked quietly.
"Because of the actions of your renegade agent, June Stahl, that caused harm to my client and her family," Ally replied. "And you should know this is not the first time Stahl's actions hurt innocent civilians."
The director sat forward in his chair, folding his hands on the desk in front of him. He was intrigued with Ally's comment and wanted to see how closely her own observations matched the agency's. "Go ahead," he prompted.
"It's no secret that Agent Stahl was obsessed with closing down the NorCal gun running operation," Ally explained.
"That's not a sin!" Sullins snorted.
"Believe me, I'm all in favor of proper law enforcement, but Stahl's methods left a lot to be desired," Ally assured the group.
"Such as?" Sullins challenged.
"Need I remind you that Donna Winston's death was a direct result of Stahl taking the Windston family into 'protective custody'?"
"That's a lie!" Sullins protested. "All the reports indicated that Mrs. Winston was killed in a drive by shooting that was gang related!" Sullins protested.
"And if you believe that story, Agent Sullins, the ATF is in worse shape than I thought!" Ally sniffed. "Before that was the asset seizure raid on Caracara Studios."
"That was by the book!" Sullins retorted.
"Funny thing about the timing of that raid. Did you realize that it happened right after Otto Delaney assualted her at Stockton?" Ally pushed back.
"Mrs. Delaney just happened to be in debt to the Federal Government for several thousand dollars. It was a legitimate asset seizure."
"There were no weapons, no drugs, and no alcohol for the ATF to be concerned with," Ally countered. "If the late Mrs. Delaney owed that much money to the government, seems that was the IRS' jurisdiction, not the ATF's."
"We found drugs on the property!" Sullins insisted.
"A baggie of diet pills!" Ally snorted. "C'mon, Sullins! High School dealers are allowed off with a slap on the wrist for worst! There certainly wasn't enough to warrant seizing all of Caracara's assets on behalf of the IRS!"
"We've already been over this, Richard," Jonas sighed tiredly. "You don't have to defend your agent any longer."
"Agent Stahl made the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club her main target from the minute she arrived in Charming," Ally continued. "She questioned anyone who had anything to do with the club, including the local barber and the club member's wives and/or girlfriends!"
"Common police procedure, Ally!" Sullins barked, unable to help himself.
"Enough, Richard!" The director barked.
Agent Sullins sat back in his chair, an air of defeat hanging over him like a black cloud. "I know we have. Why do you think I pulled her off the Norcal task force after the Galt fiasco?"
"And I'm the one who rewarded her arrest of Lucas by putting her back in charge of it," the director replied. "There's plenty of blame to share on this one, Richard."
The director turned his attention back to Ally. "We've been meeting on this matter for several hours, Attorney Lowen. We don't agree that Stahl's activities prior to the Galt incident were against procedure," he raised his hand to halt Ally's protest. "However, we do acknowledge that Stahl lied about what happened at the Hayes' house in Galt, and continued behaving in a manner inconsistent with agency policy until her death yesterday."
"That's your story and you're sticking to it," Ally growled. "What about Abel Teller's kidnapping by Cameron Hayes that was caused by Stahl's lie?"
The US Attorney squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. He had taken Gemma's statement at the hospital, the one that had named Agent Tyler as the shooter. "If she was innocent, why did Mrs. Morrow flee?" He asked.
"Gemma reacted as anyone faced with being hunted like prey reacts. She ran," Ally replied. "She didn't even know her grandson had been abducted until she planned to turn herself in. The news of Abel's kidnapping caused her heart to act up."
"If Tyler didn't kill Edmond Hayes, why would Mrs. Morrow give me a statement saying so?" The US Attorney inquired.
"Because Stahl threatened to have her locked up for years while she lay in her hospital bed if she didn't co operate!" Ally retorted in exasperation. "Gemma was willing to do anything she could to be a constant presence in her only grandchild's life." The lawyer glared at all four men before adding, "Are you forgetting that your own IAD was going to arrest Stahl yesterday for the murder of Agent Tyler?"
"No," Carey replied quietly. "We haven't forgotten. Frankly, Ms. Lowen, we were interested in hearing things from your client's perspective."
"Agent Carey has been reviewing all of Stahl's cases and arrests since she was killed last night," the director added. "We have found reason to believe that many of her arrests won't hold up. Fortunately, the arrest of James O'Phelan's lieutenant, Lucas, is not one of them!"
"Imagine my relief!" Ally murmured dryly.
Sullins leaned back in his chair with a sigh of resignation. "Frankly, we're surprised that we won't have to turn Lucas loose. It's the only recent arrest that seems airtight. We admit that Stahl's status report from the Galt house was fabricated. For some reason, she was setting up her partner for the bad shoot."
"Obviously, Tyler didn't kill Hayes," Ally remarked.
"Nor did she confess to doing so, which Stahl claimed happened before Tyler died," Jonas explained. "Her fatal wound wouldn't allow for her to make a deathbed confession."
The US Attorney cleared his throat and looked at the agents. "We have determined that had Stahl not lied in the first place, Mrs. Morrow wouldn't have fled."
"Then you'll dismiss the flight charge?"
"No," the US Attorney argued. "An example still has to be made in this case. The charge will remain on Mrs. Morrow's record and she'll remain on probation for a year. She can travel outside San Joaquin County and out of state, but not outside the continental United States."
"And the home detention?" Ally verbally prodded the US Attorney when he paused.
"Mrs. Morrow will taken off home detention today. The SJSD will expect her there later this afternoon," the US Attorney replied reluctantly.
The deal wasn't what she'd wanted, which was complete exoneration for Gemma. 'She'll be off the ankle monitor. I don't think she'll have a problem with the probation.' Ally didn't allow her thoughts to show on her face. "I'll need to call my client," she replied.
"Take all the time you need," The director stated. "We're not going anywhere for a while."
"Before I do, there's another item on the agenda. The imprisonment of members of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club on Federal Automatic Weapons charges."
"What about it?" Sullins asked warily.
"I have Stahl's deal for the club members to do fourteen months, providing they behave themselves at Stockton," Ally held up the familiar blue legal seized folder with the ATF symbol on the front.
"We'll honor the deal. The Sons made it in good faith; it's not their fault that the IRA killed Stahl and O'Phelan and made off with the evidence."
"That's good to know. However, I have serious reservations about that deal considering Stahl's actions," she remarked.
"Nice try, Ally. The club had automatic weapons when they stormed the Morado Christian Center," Sullins retorted. "Stahl didn't hold a gun to their heads to go there!"
"Even though the DA opted not to file charges in the matter?" Ally retorted.
"No one was willing to come forward with a complaint. You know that, Ms. Lowen," the US Attorney replied. "Too bad the cameras caught your clients with assault weapons in their hot little hands! The charge sticks."
"But I have your word that the club won't have to serve more than the agreed to sentence?"
"Unless they cause a major uprising, they'll be out in the agreed upon 14 months," the US Attorney assured her.
"And all this is on the record, correct?" Ally insisted.
"It's on the record," the director assured her.
"Then I'll go present this to my client," Ally announced in satisfaction. She'd known going in that getting the club out of Stockton was going to be impossible. She patted the small digital recorder in her pocket and smiled triumphantly. 'Even if it hadn't been on your record, I have it on record!'
Gemma had been awake a few hours, drinking coffee and playing with Abel. The ankle monitor had been annoying when she slept; it kept knocking into her other leg whenever she turned over. 'I'm surprised I don't have black and blue marks!'
Abel was napping while she had coffee and a smoke at the kitchen table. The bed had seemed immense without Clay's warm, reassuring presence. 'I never realized how big a bed could really be when the other person's not there!'
She was writing out a list of things to put in a care package for Clay and Jax. It hurt her that she wouldn't be able to go see them that weekend, even though she could rely on Tara or Cat or take the packages to her men. 'It's going to be Hell having to wait six months to see them!'
She sighed when her cell phone rang. It was too early for Clay or Jax to call. 'I suppose it could be Chuckie,' she sighed inwardly, picking up the phone and staring at the caller ID. Her heart started racing when she saw Ally's name on the display.
"I hope you're calling with good news," she announced.
"You're getting the ankle monitor off later today!"
Gemma closed her eyes with relief. "Thank you! What about the guys?"
"I couldn't get them out, but I do have it on record that they'll honor the deal with Stahl, despite her going rogue."
"Damn! I was hoping - "
"Yeah, I know," Ally interjected. "I tried, but the security monitors caught the guys red handed."
"Shit! What's to keep the Feds from reneging, despite their assurances to you?"
Ally smiled grimly. "They had a tape recorder in the middle of the conference table, and I had my own little recorder on hand, just in case anything happens to theirs!"
"Is that legal?" Gemma asked.
"It's not illegal!" Ally retorted with a laugh.
"You're good," Gemma remarked in admiration.
"Damn straight. I have to be for you guys. Be ready to get rid of that monitor this afternoon. I'll come get you."
Ally returned to the conference room and announced that her client accepted the deal. "As for the club, I am counting on you guys to hold up your end of the bargain."
"We fully intend to," the director assured her. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a press conference to prepare."
"I don't envy you," she grimaced sympathetically.
A delightful aroma aroused Chibs from a sound sleep. He was lying on the Trager's couch, covered by a blanket. 'Me liddle sweet'eart 'as abandoned me!' He gazed up at the closed curtains that allowed just a bare amount of morning light into the house.
'Ach! Murnin' already! Feels lyke Ah jest went ta sleep!'
He sat up and threw off the blanket that covered him. His boots were lined up next to the foot of the couch. Chibs smiled at the sight. He'd just pried them off and left them lying on the floor. 'Trust me sis ta tayke cair o' thins fer me!'
He pulled on his boots and strolled into the kitchen, yawning and stretching as he entered. Chuckie was already there, sitting at the table and enjoying breakfast with Cat.
"Good mornin', sport!" Cat smiled in greeting. "Ready for some tay?"
"Ye red me mind, darlin'!" He sighed, sliding into the chair next to Chuckie. Neither man considered taking Tig's chair.
Cat was already out of her seat to make Chibs' tea. While the water ran through the infuser, she dished up some of the casserole and sprinkled grated cheese over it before placing the plate in front of him. "Eat up, darlin'!" She instructed.
A basket of warm biscuits she'd baked in the toaster oven lay in the center of the table. It was covered by a clean linen towel. Spread and jam was also set out.
"Ye didnae hafta go ta ull this trubble!" Chibs protested.
"I tried to tell her that, but she said it wasn't any trouble," Chuckie replied.
"It wasn't. I just put it in the oven to warm after feedin' the cats and openin' the run to the coffeehouse," she explained, placing the fresh cup of tea in front of her friend. "I always keep frozen meals available that can be heated easily and kept warm without spoilin'." She slid back into her chair and gazed at Tig's empty chair. "Sometimes I never know when -" Her throat closed up, rendering her speechless.
Chibs reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "'E's noot ded, Lady Cat. Ye kin tha'!"
She drew a deep, shuddering breath and grinned mistily at the two concerned men. "I know!"
"He'll be back in a few months," Chuckie added.
"Provided the Feds don't pull a fast one on us," she muttered.
"Wha' aire ye talkin' aboot, woman?" Chibs inquired. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what was on her mind but he needed to hear her say it.
"Stahl went rogue. There's nothin' to prevent the Feds from renegin' on the agreement she made with Jax. Most of 'em, includin' Tig, have more than three strikes on their record and that means hard time!" She growled.
"I don't accept that!" Chuckie cried.
"It's not a matter of whether we accept it or not, my friend," Cat retorted. "It's a definite possibility, and I wouldn't put it past the fucktards!"
Cat's landline rang but she ignored it. "Let the voice mail get it!" She muttered darkly, lifting her coffee cup to her lips.
Chibs noticed that most of her plate had gone untouched and checked the caller ID display. "It's Ally Lowen!" He announced, picking up the receiver.
"Probably callin' with the bad news," she grunted, setting her coffee cup down with a thud.
"'Ello, Ally! Chibs 'ere," he announced when he picked up the receiver. "Cat's onna wee bit o'a tear this murnin'."
"That's a nice way of discribin' it!" She grumbled. "I just love the way all y'all just take over around here!"
"Don't get hissed off yet, Miss Cat!" Chuckie advised her. "It might not be as bad as you think!"
"It certainly sounds like she got up on the wrong side of the bed!" Ally laughed. "Do you see a speaker button on that phone?"
"Lemme see," Chibs replied, gazing intently at the wall mounted phone body. "Thair's a button marked 'S - P - K - R' is tha' it?"
"Sounds like it. Go ahead and press it," Ally advised him.
"Aye, jest a minnit," Chibs pushed the button and replaced the receiver on the cradle. "Aire ye still thair, Ally?"
"I'm here! Can you hear me, Cat?"
"Loud and clear. Lay it on me, kiddo!"
"Don't be so glum, Cat. It's good news!" Ally replied with a chortle. "The Feds aren't going to pull the deal! Tig and the others will be out in 14 months as agreed."
"Yeah, and if y'all believe that, I've got desert land in Florida to sell cheap!" Cat retorted hotly.
"Better have a lot of acres to sell, then, 'cause I'm not pulling your tail!" Ally snorted gleefully. "You should know I wouldn't tell you a lie just to make you feel better."
"True dat," Cat agreed somewhat reluctantly. "There's no chance they'll renege later on down the line?"
"None. It's on record, and I have my own recording as back up," Ally assured them.
"I accept that!" Chuckie grinned in relief. "You hear that, Miss Cat? They won't be doing any hard time!"
"Who's that?" Ally inquired.
"Chuckie. It's OK, he's a friend of the club," Cat explained. "What about Gemma?"
"She's getting rid of the ankle bracelet this afternoon. The charge sticks, but they agreed to a year's probation as Stahl's actions caused more harm against the Teller - Morrow's than Gemma's flight caused the Federal Government," Ally explained.
"Tha's an unnerstatement!" Chibs remarked dryly.
"My sentiments exactly!" Ally laughed. "I knew you'd probably start thinking the worst about Tig and the other guys' sentence, Cat, so I wanted to you to know as soon as possible."
"I take it y'all told Gem already?" Cat inquired.
"She was my first call. Tara's next on the list, then I'm going home for a nap!"
"I'd say y'all earned it!"
"As your friend just said, 'I accept that'!" Ally laughed again. "Call me if you need anything, Cat!"
"Thanks, Ally, luv!" Chibs called out, getting up to hang turn off the phone. He returned to the table and pointed at Cat's untouched plate. "Now, ye need ta quit worryin' an' eat!"
"I agree!" Chuckie stated.
"Both of y'all need to keep your noses outta my plate!" She growled good naturedly.
"We will when you eat something, Miss Cat!" Chuckie stated.
"Aye," Chibs sat down across from her and crossed his arms, staring intently at her. Chuckie did likewise. "We refuse ta eat ennythin' until ye do!"
"That might be a long wait!" She retorted, then her stomach growled hungrily. She glared down at her traitorous gut and muttered, "Traitor!" She lifted her utensils and took a few reluctant bites. The casserole was good, and she was feeling hungry now that she knew Alex and the others weren't facing a longer sentence.
"Tha's me gurrl!" Chibs crowed triumphantly. He sounded as alpha male as Alex, making her favor him with 'The Look'.
"Shut up and eat!" She snarled. "Both of you!"
Both men grinned at each other, then picked up their own utensils and dug in. "Wha' kinda thin is this, Lady Cat?" Chibs asked.
"Breakfast casserole. It's a country recipe. Taters, mushrooms, green peppers, cheese, eggs all cooked together."
"Ah lyke it," Chibs murmured. He ate a few more bites then added, "Ah spoke wi' Fi last nite."
"How are they?"
"Settlin' in. Ah tole 'er aboot Jimmy."
Cat nodded. "I hope she and Kerrianne can rest a little easier now."
"Thair still inna danger. Jimmy 'ad oopratives in Ireland."
"Then it sounds like living near SAMBEL is the best thing for them," Cat observed.
"Aye. Fi sayd tha' cloob brought Padraic back. 'E wuz berryed yestidy."
Cat laid a comforting hand on Chibs' arm. There were no words that she could say to console him over the loss. He nodded appreciatively at her gesture and resumed eating.
Once breakfast was over, Cat shooed her guests back to the compound. She assured them that she would stay in touch and not be a stranger to the clubhouse. "It's just gonna be hard to see those empty chairs at the table in the chapel, and those empty bikes lined up waitin'."
"No worries, Miss Cat. The bikes are gonna go into storage," Chuckie informed her. "Do you want Tig's brought here?"
"What did he want done with it?"
"He left it up to you, Miss Cat."
She thought on the matter for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah, best store it with the rest. I couldn't bear seein' it every day and knowin' he's not here to ride." She couldn't help glancing at Alex's chair as she spoke. "There's enough reminders as it is."
"That's why we stayed with you last night, Miss Cat," Chuckie stated. "So you wouldn't be so lonely."
"I know, and love y'all both for it," she grinned. "But all y'all can't stay here for the next 14 months. Besides, the furbabies will keep me company, and it's not like I haven't been alone before. That's how things started out when I came here!"
"Aye, 'tis 'ard ta belave tha'," Chibs observed. "Ye an' Teeg fit so well tha' it seems lyke ye've bin wi' each udder ferevah!"
"Sometimes it seems that way to me!" She remarked with a hint of her mischievous nature. "Don't worry, I'll be around when y'all least expect it!"
Chibs and Chuckie reluctantly returned to the compound in the van. Chuckie retired to the office while Chibs checked in at the clubhouse.
He found a few Croweaters inside, staring moodily at the empty interior. The prospects were standing behind the bar and Piney was sitting in front of an open bottle of Tequila.
"Murnin', Piney. Ah see yer 'avin' yer usual."
"Breakfast of champions," he rumbled, hefting a shot glass at Chibs.
"Want something, Chibs?" Miles asked.
"Tay, ifn ye 'ave enny," he replied, ambling towards the Croweaters. "Why tha lung faces, gurrls?"
"We miss the guys already. It was dead boring in here without them. Where were you?" One of the Croweaters replied.
"None of your business!" Another hissed, digging the first speaker in the ribs with her elbow.
Chibs turned a chair backwards and straddled the seat so that his chest leaned against the back of the chair. He gazed at each of the girls, then explained what the club needed from them.
"What's in it for us?" The first speaker pouted. Her eyes had lit up with anticipation when Chibs first started talking, but darkened rapidly with disappointment to learn she was expected to make money available to the clubs' single men.
"What the Fuck do you think is in it for us?" The second Croweater hissed. "We're supporting the club! It's what we're supposed to do!"
"Yeah," the third spoke up before Chibs could say anything. "Happy, Bobby, and Juice don't have old ladies to provide commissary funds and care packages for them, much less visit them or write letters to cheer them up. It's not asking that much, for fuck's sake!'
"Not to mention that it'll keep their morale up while they're in prison!" The first snorted.
"Well, I want to be sure they'll properly appreciate us when they're out!" The first huffed, crossing her arms in defiance.
"Better get with the program, little girl,
' the second Croweater growled at the first. "We don't do shit for the guys for appreciation or favors. We do it because it's what we do!"
"Aye," Chibs nodded, glaring darkly at the protesting Croweater. "Thair gonna need muny, cair packages, und someone ta watch thair hoomes fer 'em. Ifn ye cannae do tha' wi'oot expectin' sumthin' in return, p'raps ye shuld hang aroond sumwhair else."
"We'll pass the word to the other girls, Chibs," the second Croweater assured him, nodding her head at the pouting Croweater. "She won't have anything to do with the project!"
"Hey!" The first protested as Chibs stood up and walked away.
Chibs shook his head as he settled onto a seat at the bar next to Piney.
"Trouble with the women?" Piney grunted.
"Tha' un gurrl is a looker, boot has tha' brains o' a flea an' a 'eart ta match," Chibs muttered into his tea.
"I heard. The group'll sort her out. Good thing too," Piney replied, throwing another shot down his throat. "How's Cat?"
"Huldin' up. Pootin' onna gud act. She misses 'im."
"Hard to believe," Piney reflected.
"Aye. She's a tough gurrl, tha's fer shure, boot she's gotta gud 'eart."
The Croweater who'd questioned Chibs about helping the imprisoned single club members flounced out of the clubhouse in a huff. She didn't look at the bar on her way out.
"That looked pretty final," Miles remarked.
"It is," the second Croweater growled as she walked up to stand at the bar. "She's out. Just wanted to assure you the guys won't have to worry about anything but keepin' safe, Chibs."
"Gud!" He nodded a dismissal and the Croweater returned to the table she shared with her sister. The two were already making plans to insure that Bobby, Happy, and Juice's homes were secured. "Ye myte wanna run yer plans by Gem and Lady Cat, gurrls."
"We will!" The second Croweater nodded.
Jeans, a casual shirt, and boots felt strange to Wayne Unser after so many years of wearing a police officer's uniform. 'I have to get used to civvies. That's what I am now."
He still had his business to run. 'Unser Trucking' had taken a backseat to his policeman's duties for many years. Now he could take a more active role in the daily operation, whether his manager of operations liked it or not.
The first thing he needed to do that day was to go through the Camaro. It was safely parked in the Teller - Morrow lot where the repossessed vehicles were stored. 'I imagine it's gonna smell pretty ripe!' He decided to take gloves and a breathing mask with him.
His pickup truck waited outside his house. He noticed that the grass was getting high and made a mental note to hire someone to mow it for him. He still missed Della, and wished they could reconcile. 'I have a feeling that's not going to happen. She's not called or written in weeks, and I thought she would've reached out when she heard about CPD!'
He drove out to the Teller - Morrow lot, parked the car, and checked in with Chuckie.
"Hi Chief!"
"It's Wayne now, Chuckie," Unser reminded him.
"I don't accept that. You'll always be the police chief to me!"
"I appreciate that. Salazar's Camaro out in back?"
Chuckie nodded and pointed to the peg board where various keys were hanging. "It's the set with the Mexican flag on the key ring," he explained.
"I'll be out in the back if anyone comes looking for me."
"I accept that!"
Unser walked out to the back lot, squinting in the sunlight while he searched for the Camaro. It wasn't hard to find. Dog had parked it near the back of the building in a shaded and secluded spot. No one would see him from the street, and the sun wasn't baking the vehicle.
Unser inserted the key into the door lock, then remembered what might be waiting to come out. He donned the breathing mask, put on the rubber gloves he'd brought with him, then opened the door and stood aside.
The breathing mask helped, but the smell of decomp and blood was enough to make his stomach churn. "Shit!" He gasped, holding his hand over the mask and backing away from the vehicle. The stench was worse than he'd anticipated.
He walked away from the vehicle, leaving the door open to let it air out, and took several deep inhales of fresh air until his stomach quit complaining. He held his breath when he neared the car and opened the passenger side door. He retreated again to inhale more fresh air and waited a few minutes before approaching the car again.
When he came near it after several long minutes of waiting, the stench was still pretty bad, but it wasn't overpowering. He checked the back passenger area first, looking under the seats and sliding his gloved hand between the bench and the back of the seat, looking for anything that he could use against Hale.
After coming up empty with the back passenger area, he started searching the front passenger seats and doors. He knew that people would hide things inside the car doors if they felt it was necessary. 'It's possible Salazar could've slipped evidence in the doors, in case he could come back later for the evidence!'
The doors and the center console didn't give up any treasures. That left the glove compartment. It was stuffed with papers, mostly old registration slips, several unpaid parking tickets, the owner's manual, and a pink smartphone.
'With my luck, the damn battery will be dead!' He pressed the power button and was pleased to see that the battery had a little bit of life remaining. He prayed that the phone's owner didn't have a password coded lock as he slid his finger on the slide bar that appeared on the phone's plate.
'Thank you up there!' He sighed with relief when the display lit up. There was a 'voice memo' app on the phone. That was all he needed to see. 'If Salazar had any evidence against Hale, it's likely on that memo app, or somewhere on this phone!'
He slipped the phone into his shirt pocket and closed and locked the Camaro. No amount of detailing would make that car useful to another owner. He trudged back to the office, stripping the gloves from his hands and removing the mask on his way. He shoved the items into his pants pocket before entering the office.
"Everything OK, Chief?"
"Everything's fine, Chuckie. You might as well make arrangements to sell that car for scrap. It's beyond repair."
"That bad, eh?"
"Tara said that Salazar carted his dead girlfriend around for hours in that thing," Unser explained. "Including covering it with a tarp overnight. It's pretty ripe, and that kind of thing tends to stay in the upholstery."
"Yuck!" Chuckie shivered in revulsion.
"My sentiments exactly. Let me know if you need any help with the DMV in clearing the title."
"Will do. Are you going to hang around for a bit?"
Unser shook his head. "I'll be back later. Opie and the others can reach me by phone if they need me. Got a few errands to run."
"I accept that!" Chuckie grinned and returned to his work on the previous day's invoices.
Tig's and Bobby's first night in prison went well. Lights out was earlier than they were used to, so they spent a few hours talking softly about things they hadn't shared before. Eventually their conversation turned to family. "Why did you and Precious break up, Bobby? She seemed to understand the life."
"She did, but she wanted the stability of a 9 to 5 job. The money was good from the guns, but she didn't like havin' to work to make ends meet. Wanted to stay home and be the 'happy homemaker'. With Tiki always gettin' sick from asthma when he was a baby, we couldn't afford it." He chuckled and added, "Ya know what a bitch TM's insurance can be."
"Don't remind me!" Tig snorted. He didn't need to be reminded of the hospital he'd been taken to after Bobby's Fatboy ran him off the road that had refused to treat him and how that almost ended up.
"Sorry," Bobby winced in the darkness. "Anyway, Precious got pissed and filed for divorce, got custody, and has been a pain in the ass about child support ever since." He sighed and added wistfully, "I wonder if it's worth the bother to ask her to bring Tiki up once in a while to visit."
"Trust me, bro, you don't wanna let her keep ya outta your kid's life. Just because you're in jail doesn't mean ya don't have the right to see him."
"I know, but she'll bitch about not gettin' the child support and I'm still behind thanks to that last stint."
"Ya still got rights. Have Ally call her if Precious gives ya any trouble, bro."
Bobby poked the bottom to Tig's thin mattress with his foot. "What about you, asshole?"
"What about me?"
"Aren't ya gonna ask Colleen to bring the girls up?" Bobby asked.
"Nope."
Bobby jumped out of his bunk and glared at his brother. "What the fuck are ya talkin' about? What was all that shit about not stayin' outta my kid's life and you're not gonna bother to talk to Colleen about the girls visitin'?"
Tig grinned and linked his hands behind his head. "Nope. Cat's gonna deal with her!"
"Shit!" Bobby snorted, laying back down on his bunk. "You take that woman too much for granted. If I had to choose between Precious and Colleen, I'd take Precious!"
"Cat's gonna be OK, bro. She's used to dealin' with Colleen and the girls. Guess it's a woman thing." Tig grunted.
"Shit!" Bobby muttered. "Cat's too decent to have to contend with that horde of yours. I'm surprised she didn't go on the warpath and scalp the girls that first time she met 'em."
"They definitely tried to rile her, but Cat kept a cool head on her shoulders, just like she did at LuAnn's funeral when those gashes were bullyin' her," Tig replied proudly. "She'll have the girls up here, you'll see."
"Hell, I'd love to be a fly on the wall during that conversation!" Bobby laughed.
The club discussed the idea of Cat going up against Colleen the following morning at the breakfast table. It helped lighten their mood. Though they'd enjoyed a peaceful night, they continued to watch their backs. They would have to maintain a careful watch until their protection was cemented.
A husky Hispanic walked up to their table, putting all of the club on guard. "Alvarez sent me," he informed Clay. "We're good with SAMCRO. We have your backs, brothers." He held out his hand and Clay clasped it tightly, securing the agreement.
A buzzer went off, alerting the prisoners that their workday was beginning. A guard approached the club's table and grinned nastily at them. "Welcome, girls! Hope you bitches slept well, you're gonna need it! Get off your sorry asses and follow me to your work assignments!"
After her overnight guests left, Cat limped across the back yard to her coffeehouse. The weekly staff meeting was due later that day during the afternoon lull. Before she could prepare for the meeting, she wanted to get the dreaded call to Alex's ex out of the way.
She intended to record the conversation, as she'd done all her contacts with Colleen from the very first. Just as she'd gotten into the habit of recording calls and personal conversations that might involve SAMCRO business during her first meeting with Agent Stahl months earlier.
She smiled to hear Alex's voice in her head reminding her that the recordings weren't necessary. 'I'd rather have the insurance and not need it, then need it and not have the recordin' backin' me up!' She sighed, staring at the telephone on her desk.
She frowned in recalling Alex's disappointment when he tried to call his children the night before the club was taken away. Both numbers had been disconnected with no forwarding number, and Colleen hadn't returned his message. "They're shuttin' me out again, baby! I don't get it! Things seemed to go so well that night we had 'em over!"
'I know why but there's no way I'm gonna voice my opinion. That's a good way to start an unnecessary fight!' She well knew the potholes that lay along that particular road. It had taken her and her step - mother awhile to develop a relationship, and they didn't have to deal with a vindictive former spouse!
"I'm sorry, love," was all she said, sincerely sympathizing with him. She was angry over the rejection his children were giving him. She sensed it was more than the end of the monthly support payments. 'Don't they know he'd move Heaven and Earth of them if he had to?'
She sighed in resignation, lifted the receiver, dialed Collen's telephone number and turned on the speakerphone. As soon as the line began ringing, she activated the recording device. 'No matter what bait she dangles, don't lose your temper!' She reminded herself.
"What the Hell do you want, bitch?" Colleen snarled when she answered the phone. The caller ID had told her who was calling. She'd considered not answering, but it was a long way to the end of the month.
"Good mornin' to y'all, too!" Cat replied with a friendliness she didn't really feel for the woman. "Just callin' with some info about Tig."
"Why should I want to know anything about him?" Colleen snorted dryly. "He doesn't give a damn about me anymore!"
'For good reason!' Cat thought. She took a deep breath and continued, "He and some of the club members were taken to Stockton Prison yesterday. They'll be there for the next 14 months, providin' they behave themselves."
"You seem to have a hearing problem, bitch!" Colleen snapped. "I don't give a shit about Tig, or the club, or that they're in prison! He's your problem, not mine!"
Cat mentally called on her limited patience to deal with the jealous woman. "Just thought y'all might appreciate the courtesy of hearin' it direct from me, instead of havin' someone drop it on y'all in passin'," she replied quietly. "Unless you already heard the newscasts or read it in the paper."
Colleen didn't have a ready response. As usual, no matter how rude she was to Tig's wife, the woman refused to snap back at her. 'The bitch doesn't play fair! There's no fun havin' a one - sided cat fight!'
"Colleen? Y'all still there?" Cat asked unnecessarily. She could tell that the line was still open; she could the other woman breathing heavily in frustration.
"Y - yeah. I - uh, I appreciate that," Colleen stammered uncomfortably. "There are a few people here who would love to catch me off guard with that kind of news. I - I didn't catch the local newscasts and don't take the paper. Was it that Morado thing?"
"Yeah, it's Federal time. The DA dropped all the other charges."
"Fuckin' automatic weapons!" Colleen snapped. "I kept tellin' Tig those would get his ass in a sling!"
"Well, that's a man for y'all. They never listen!" Cat grinned. She hated to extinguish the small camaradie they were sharing, but she had to take the plunge that would renew the other woman's hostility. "I have another reason for callin'. Tig would like the girls to visit him in Stockton from time to time. Maybe write him a letter once in a while. He tried to call to tell 'em, but their phones were disconnected."
"Yeah, they're staying with me for awhile. We've been going through some tough times lately ever since the child support payments stopped," Colleen stated harshly. "I suppose you want me to inform the girls of their father's request?"
"Yes, please," Cat replied. "And if y'all would have them call my cell phone to co - ordinate things, I'd really appreciate it." She winced at the begging tone she injected in her voice, but if it appealed to Colleen and resulted in Fawn and Dawn co - operating, she'd make it seem like Colleen was doing her a big favor.
"Just how appreciative?"
'Oh no! Y'all aren't goin' there again!' Cat thought angrily. It was obvious what Colleen wanted. Compensation. 'I never should've given in the first time!' She stared at the computer screen in front of her in dismay.
"Well?" Colleen demanded irritably. "Cat got your tongue?"
"No, I was just thinkin' about what y'all said. Would the girls be interested in workin' for me on the weekends?"
"I thought your place was closed Sunday!" Colleen interjected.
"It is," Cat replied evenly. "Stockton awarded the coffeehouse a concession to supply baked goods to the commissary. I'm goin' to a helper for Saturday bakin' and Sunday deliveries there. Both girls could work and switch weekends, so they've have some steady money, and have alternatin' weekends free. Plus, they'd have a guaranteed ride to and from Stockton to visit their father."
"Well, isn't that special!" Colleen sneered. "But that doesn't change anything between us. If you expect me to let the girls visit him, you get the usual amount into my bank account by the end of the day. Then and only then will I have them contact you!" The line went dead before Cat could frame a suitable reply.
She hung up the phone and stopped the recording, labeling the file on the computer and closing it. She shook her head over Colleen's acrimoniousness. She brushed angry tears from her eyes, determined not to let her staff see her distress. She had the means to deal with the situation, and she would deal with it for the sake of Alex's morale.
A discreet cough alerted her to Pete's presence at the doorway. "Am I bothering you, Miss Cat?"
"Nah," she sniffled. "I'm fine. Everybody here?"
"Yes ma'am! All present and accounted for," he assured her. "Are you OK?"
"Yeah," she stood up and turned to face him, smiling reassuringly at him. "Let's get this show on the road!"
Unser drove to Oakland, where he could make a purchase without it becoming public knowledge. He needed to find a charger for the cell phone so he could listen to the voice memos. Where better to make such a purchase than a big box electronics store?
He walked into the large warehouse like store and looked at the signs hanging overhead. The cell phone area was off to his right. He strode purposefully to that area, looking for the accessories.
'Where's a salesperson when you want one?' He thought in amusement, recalling the age old joke about cops. He found the cell phone department and looked for the charger that would fit the phone. After several minutes, he finally found what would work.
Instead of going with a simple vehicle charger, he splurged to get a combined vehicle and house charger. He slid the package from the hook and started towards the check out.
"May I help you find anything, sir?" A bored looking young person wearing the store's uniform polo shirt asked as Unser passed by.
"Nope, I'm good," he replied, continuing on towards the nearest open check out.
"OK," the employee responded, heading off towards the cell phone area.
Unser couldn't help smiling at the irony of the moment. He was still smiling when as the clerk rang up his purchase.
"Did you find everything, sir?" The cashier inquired in a pseudo friendly fashion.
'If I hadn't, would I be standing here with my wallet in my hand?' He wondered to himself. He asked himself why cashiers always asked that question at the check out. "Yes, ma'am," he murmured.
"Do you have a loyalty card with us?" She continued. When he shook his head she added, "Do you want to sign up for one?"
"No thanks," he replied, removing a few bills from his wallet and passing them to her. "I don't shop here that often."
The cashier accepted his money, entered the amount, then removed the change the computer told her he was entitled to. She handed it to him without counting it out, which didn't surprise him at all. "Have a nice day, sir," she stated before turning her attention to the next customer.
"You too, sweetheart," he murmured, taking his small bag from the counter and walking to the door. He stuffed the receipt and change in his pocket, then strode towards the exit to his truck.
Colleen felt both annoyed and amused by the telephone call from Tig's wife. "I don't know how the man can stand her! They say opposites attract, but there's no way he 'd put up with anyone that nice!"
It infuriated her that the woman had remained calm and cordial in response to the venom Colleen had spewed at her. "If it weren't for Tig being in prison, I'd think she was putting on an act to impress him!"
She settled onto the sofa with her coffee and a cigarette, staring at the muted television screen. The channel was airing one of those syndicated talk shows that showed the seamier side of America, guaranteed to broadcast a multitude of bleeped words, blurred nudity, and at least one fight.
A satisfied smile crossed Colleen's face as she imagined getting on such a show with Tig's new wife. "Bet she wouldn't behave so well then!" She snorted derisively. 'At least I'll be getting some money to see me through the rest of the month!' Colleen had been running a hustle on the woman who'd married her daughters' father for months. She intended to continue running for a long time.
Dawn wandered into the living room as her mother sat deep in thought. The girl was dressed in clothing that made her look like a Goth street walker. "Who called?"
"Step - Mommie dearest," Colleen replied.
"Oh, shit! What did she want now? It's not Dad's birthday is it?"
"No, she wanted to tell us that your father's going to be at Stockton for the next 14 months," Colleen informed her.
"What for?" Dawn fought not to show that the news bothered her. 'This kind of shit shouldn't bother me. So why do I feel like somebody kicked me in the head?'
"Federal weapons charges from that raid the club made on that religious place a few weeks ago. Your step - mother said the Feds wouldn't drop the charges, even though the county prosecutor didn't pursue the matter."
"I suppose she wants me and Fawn to write him!" Dawn observed bitterly.
"And visit," Colleen sneered.
"Doesn't want much, does she?" Dawn retorted. "Daddy didn't do a great job of getting to all the important things I - we - invited him to. He didn't even arrive on time for our high school graduation! Why in the Hell should we go visit, much less write him while he's in jail?"
Colleen fought back a twinge of guilt over her daughter's statement. There was a good reason that Tig hadn't attended events like school plays, sports events, recitals and the like following the divorce, and it wasn't because of the club, though the girls believed that was the case.
Colleen had done everything she could to sabotage Tig's relationship with his daughters after the divorce. When they gave her cards for his birthday, Father's Day, and Christmas, she tore them up and threw them away. She did the same with letters they wrote to him and any invites they sent him. When they grew older and would invite him to those events via phone, she would call him later on to tell him the event had been postponed or rescheduled, so that he'd not show up.
Colleen had initially hoped that they would reconcile after he caught her invoking the 'prison clause' in their bed when he wasn't in prison. "It's no different than all that road sex you indulge in!" She threw at him as he packed his bag.
"I don't bring it home!" He growled, scooping clothes and his few personal possessions in his duffel. "That's the difference!"
She was served with a divorce notice the following day. Though he'd sought custody of the girls, the judge rejected his request because of his lifestyle. The divorce was granted, with full custody and child support awarded given to Colleen. Alimony was not granted, which angered her and resulted in her vindictive destruction of Tig's relationship with his daughters. 'If he's going to make me miserable, I'm going to hurt him just as hard!'
At first, Fawn and Dawn were devastated whenever their father didn't show for an invited event. When the cycle continued to repeat itself, they grew less tolerant of hearing the same excuse every time, believing that Tig was unjustly blaming their mother for his letting them down. They grew more and more aloof as the years passed, until Tig only chose to visit with them on their birthday and Christmas.
The girls believed - and Colleen did everything possible to reinforce it - that Tig cared more for the club than he did for his own flesh and blood.
The only constant was the child support payments. They were faithfully made each week through the county, except for the times when he was jailed. Once he was out, he made sure that the arrears was cleared as quickly as possible. When the girls reached 18, the child support ended, though Tig kept up with the twice yearly visits.
Then came the news that he'd chosen to marry a widowed businessowner recently moved to Charming. Colleen grew insanely jealous when she first heard the woman's voice on the phone, inviting her daughters to Charming for a family dinner.
"I'd just like the opportunity to meet Tig's daughters, maybe get to know them and vice versa," Cat explained politely.
"Well, isn't that special!" Colleen sniped sarcastically. "You're just trying to make points with my man!"
"Not hardly," Cat replied quietly to both comments. "I happen to come from a blended family and know how uneasy youngones can be when their parent remarries. I just want the girls to know I'm no threat."
"Is Tig there?" Colleen inquired rudely. "Is that why you're saying that, to impress him?"
"No, he's out on club business. He doesn't know I intended to call y'all," Cat informed her in the same calm manner.
Colleen grinned wickedly. Knowing that Tig wasn't present gave her an opportunity to stick it to his new wife where it would do Colleen the most good. "The only way you're getting my girls over there is if you make it worth my while!"
Cat didn't immediately reply. She was shocked that a parent could entertain such a thought, much less give voice to it. "If I heard y'all correctly, you're tellin' me that you expect me to pay you so that your daughters spend time with Tig. Is that correct?"
"You might be as old as dirt, but your hearing's good. Yes, you have to pay and pay well for the girls to visit their father!"
"That sounds like extortion to me!" Cat exclaimed.
"Call it whatever big name you want, bitch! If you expect my girls to visit, you have to pay the price!"
The silence stretched out so that Colleen wandered if the other woman had hung up. There was no dial tone, and she could hear the caller's deep breathing. She smiled in grim triumph. She could tell from the caller's attempt to maintain calm that she'd scored a direct hit. 'She's either gonna hang up and rat me out to Tig, or she's gonna take the bait. If she rats me out, I'll just claim she's lying about me. It's not like she has any proof!'
"If it weren't for the fact that Tig loves his daughters, I'd tell y'all to shove your 'request' where the sun doesn't shine!" Cat hissed coldly.
"But he does, so you're gonna accept my 'request'!" Colleen crowed triumphantly.
Cat sighed in resignation. "Yes."
'Yes!' Colleen pumped her fist in the air, but kept her voice under control. "This is what you need to do," she stated an amount that she felt comfortable with and gave the other woman her savings account number, along with a deadline for the deposit.
"When I get notification that the deposit's been made, I'll contact you to make the arrangements. If you're a penny short or a minute late, you can forget about Tig ever seeing his daughters!"
"Just don't call my house phone," Cat instructed tersely. "Take down my cell number and call me on it from now on."
The full deposit was made within the allotted time frame, much to Colleen's surprise. She took the girls over to their father's new home in Charming, waiting at Latte Da to take them home.
"Mom? Did you hear me?" Dawn asked impatiently, glaring at her mother.
Colleen reacted with a start. Her daughter's sharp inquiry had startled her from her reverie. "I heard you," she replied dryly. "You'll go because I'm telling you to go."
"Ma - um!" Dawn wailed.
"If you're going to live with me, you and Fawn are going to do what I tell you to do!" Colleen retorted. "It won't kill you to show your father a little kindness. Maybe it'll make him feel guilty for all the times he let you down."
"I like that idea!" Dawn smiled wolfishly.
"Here's your step mother's cell number. She said something about the two of you working for her in exchange for going to and from Stockton every week."
Dawn accepted the slip of paper and stuck it in her back pocket. She'd call the woman her father had married later, when her mother wouldn't be around to listen in and interfere with her own hustle.
Unser connected the cell phone to the charger as soon as he got into his pickup truck, allowing it to charge all the way back to his home in Charming. He took a different route to his house so he wouldn't have to pass the deserted CPD building.
He needed a jolt of caffeine, and didn't want to wait for his coffeemaker at home to cycle. "Hell, I didn't clean the damn thing out, anyway!" He groaned.
He piloted the truck to Main Street, stopping in front of 'Charming Pawse' to pick up a cup of coffee to go. Pete was manning the counter when he walked in, and the two regular book readers were comfortably settled with their books and drinks.
"Hi, Chief!" They all chorused at once.
'I feel like I'm in an episode of 'Cheers'!' He thought, trying not to wince at the greeting. "Howdy. But I'm not the police chief any more, folks!" He protested.
One of the readers looked up from his book to meet Unser's gaze. "That may be, but you'll always be our chief!"
"Amen!" Pete and the other reader added heartily.
Unser felt his eyes mist over at the support from the trio. "Thanks, folks," he replied huskily. He continued on to the counter, where Pete had already placed a large black coffee to go.
"You'd have felt kinda funny if I'd asked for something else, son," Unser remarked dryly.
"Not really, Chief. I still remember the first thing you told me when I started working here."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Pete grinned, ringing up his order and making change. "'One thing you'll never hear me ask for is one of those fu - fu drinks. I drink coffee. Black coffee. As large a cup as you have. No cream. No sugar. Just coffee'." Pete counted out the change into Unser's hand, then leaned against the counter, waiting for a reply.
"Well, one of these days, I just might surprise you," Unser growled good naturedly. "Heard from Cat today?"
"She's in the office if you want to go back and see her."
"Isn't this staff meeting day?"
Pete nodded. "She's probably just getting ready for it. Likely going to tell us about Mr. Tig being in jail."
Unser shook his head. No matter how many times he heard the coffeehouse workers call him that, Unser couldn't get used to hearing Tig referred to as 'Mr.'. "Guess you heard about it on the news."
"Hard to miss it. Things were a little busy yesterday. Can't say I'll miss Agent Stahl," Pete stated.
"There's probably a lot of that going around. I'll not bother your boss right now. Let her get prepared for your meeting. Just tell her I said 'Hi'."
"Will do, Chief."
Unser was touched by the recognition from Pete and the regular readers. 'I wonder if that's a shared sentiment around here. Maybe I shouldn't be so quick to correct people for continuing to call me 'Chief' after all.'
The cell phone's battery had stored a 50% charge by the time he reached home. He disconnected the charger, stuck the unit in his glove box, then entered his quiet, lonely home.
The coffeepot wasn't as bad as he feared, but it definitely needed a good wash before he brewed a new pot. He plugged the other charger he'd bought into an electric outlet and attached the cell phone to it so it would charge more while he cleaned the dishes that had accumulated in the sink.
The cell was completely charged by the time he finished the kitchen duty. He sat down at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee, powered up the phone, and activated the voice memo app.
"Whew!" He sighed with relief. The voice memo app wasn't password protected. The files weren't labeled, except for dates. There were several files in the app. But only one was dated the day after the assault on Lumpy.
"That's gotta be of interest!" He activated the file and set the cell phone on the table.
It didn't take long for him to realize that the file was the jackpot he'd hoped for.
"Not that I needed any confirmation that Hale was behind the Liberty Street property buy outs! I have that evidence on paper!"
He nearly spewed coffee all over the table when he heard Salazar admit to hurting Lumpy, and Hale whine that he'd only paid Salazar to 'convince' Lumpy to sell. His eyes narrowed in anger as Salazar laughed over making it easier for Hale to buy the gym.
The recording ended with Hale triumphantly telling Salazar he'd never be able to prove his involvement in Lumpy's assault.
"That must have been when Salazar played the recording back for him," Unser sighed, gazing down at the cell phone. It was proof that Hale was guilty of conspiracy to commit assault, and might even get him charged with conspiracy to commit murder.
"If not conspiracy, he's definitely an accessory!" Unser snorted. "But where do I go from here? I don't trust this evidence with the SJSD!"
The cop in him knew that he shouldn't with hold evidence in a capitol crime such as Lumpy's death.
'Lump's murderer is dead, and I have a feeling that Hale's connections would only get him a slap on the wrist for co - ercing the property owners to sell. This information could hurt his campaign, I suppose.'
He picked up his landline phone and dialed Oswald's cell. He wanted to find out whether Oswald intended to run in the primary before he decided what to do about the recording.
"Elliot Oswald."
"It's Unser."
"Hey, Chief! How are you feeling?"
'What does he mean -? Oh! Yesterday!' He shook his head to clear it. He'd been so engrossed in the cell phone that he'd forgotten all about the events of the previous day! "I'm a little sore in spots, but otherwise OK."
"You were damn lucky, my friend," Oswald replied.
"Yeah." Unser sighed. "Enough about me, Elliot. Are you still planning to run against Hale?"
"No," Oswald replied quietly. "I talked it over with the party chairman earlier today.
The party withdrew their support."
"Shit! I'm sorry!" Unser groaned.
"I had a feeling it was going to happen, Wayne. That snide comment Hale made at 'Hannah's Place' has been the talk of the town. Some joker recorded it and put it out on the internet."
"Jesus Christ!"
"The paper's glowing write up about Hale's heroism during the hostage situation was the final nail in my campaign's coffin," Oswald continued. "I can't afford to run an independent campaign."
"So Hale's won the mayor's office," Unser observed wryly.
"I'm afraid so. It'll take a miracle to keep him out of there at this point."
"Would you change your mind if such a miracle occurred?" Unser inquired casually.
"Do you happen to have a miracle up your sleeve?" Oswald chuckled dryly.
"Just asking a hypothetical question."
Oswald considered the matter for a few moments before replying. "No. There's just no way I want to take the chance of throwing my hat in the ring, no matter how juicy the miracle."
"I understand," Unser sighed resignedly. "You would've had my vote."
"That makes four that I know of. You, me, my wife, and Cat."
"Do you think Tig's incarceration is going to hurt her chances?" Unser asked.
"Nah. She made it pretty damn clear that Tig and the club doesn't control her. Hale and his minions would be fools to try to use that against her."
"Thank God for that!" Unser stated.
"Amen, brother." Oswald agreed vehemently. "With Cat on the council, we have some hope for the town!"
"I accept that!" Unser stated. "I'll talk to you later, Elliot." He replaced the receiver and returned to the kitchen table. He stared at the cell phone, then picked it up and took it to his home office.
He unlocked the cabinet where his rifles and personal stock were stored and opened a small drawer. The drawer held several boxes of ammunition. He placed the cell phone in the drawer, closed it, then closed and locked the cabinet.
He sat down in his office chair with a defeated sigh. Lumpy's killer was dead, and the evidence he had on Hale would just have to wait until the right time for it to be used. 'Hale may think he's won and that his secret died with Salazar. When he least expects it, this little gem will smack him right in the nuts!'
"We don't need any more mechanics, and we don't make license plates anymore," the guard escorting the Sons chortled. "Looks like you girls are going to learn some new skills!"
The Sons remained stoically silent, waiting for the guard to get bored with taunting them. All they wanted to know was what their daily work assignments would be so they could get down to business.
The guard looked over a document on his clipboard, then looked over the six men. He snorted in derision and looked back at his clipboard before barking out Clay's name. "Front and center, Morrow, Munson!"
Clay stepped forward, keeping his eyes straight ahead. He was careful not to make eye contact with the guard. 'It's just like bein' a grunt in the military. You can get through this,' he reminded himself.
Bobby stepped up beside Clay. He imitated the Prez's stance and demeanor, though he was inwardly nervous about the upcoming work assignment.
"You and Fatass here report to the laundry," the guard announced. He gave Bobby the once over and added in a malicious tone of voice, "Maybe that'll sweat some pounds off you, sweetie!"
Bobby flushed angrily, but remained silent. He'd worked at worse jobs, he'd endure this one.
Clay motioned with his head for Bobby to follow him. "See ya later, guys," he called over his shoulder.
Bobby reluctantly trailed after his Prez.
"Just follow my lead, Bobby. It'll be OK," Clay murmured as he fell into step beside his club secretary. "We'll get through this."
"Loman! Ortiz!" The guard snapped. "Front and center!"
Happy and Juice stepped forward to the spot that Clay and Bobby had just vacated. Like their Prez, the pair kept their eyes focused on the wall beyond the guard. They waited silently for the guard to pronounce judgement on them.
"You two get to scrub down the bathrooms in the facility! Make them shine, ladies!" The guard sneered.
Both men shrugged and walked off behind the guard that waited to escort them away from the group. 'It could've been worse,' Juice mused to himself. 'At least we don't have to use toothbrushes!'
That left Tig and Jax waiting to learn their new duties. "I've saved the best for last, pretty girls!" The guard laughed. "You two are gonna be working with your hands. Report to the wood shop!"
Tig shrugged and moved forward to follow the guard that waited for them. Jax remained standing in front of the guard. "I'm allergic to wood dust," he informed the guard. "How about if I work in the library instead?"
The guard glanced down at his clipboard. "Don't see anything about any allergy on here!"
"Well, it should be there!" Jax retorted. "I'm not going to work in an area that's going to kill me! Put me in the library."
"There's wood dust there," the guard retorted.
"Not like there would be in the wood working shop," Jax argued, keeping his voice even and his eyes straight ahead. "Either the library or the kitchen. I'm not working in the wood shop."
Tig crossed his arms over his chest, admiring the VP's balls in daring to argue with the guard. 'Jax has a good reason for challengin' the guard. I know damn good and well he doesn't have a wood allergy! This is gonna be good!'
Tig himself didn't mind working in the wood shop. It was good, hard work. The smell would remind him of the outdoors, and it would engage his mind enough to keep it sharp. He was interested in how Jax's small protest would end.
"Fine, the kitchen it is!" The guard snarled, indicating to Tig's guard to go on ahead. The guard placed the clipboard under his arm and pushed Jax away from him. "Get moving!"
"C'mon, Trager! Show's over!" The other guard muttered, motioning for Tig to precede him. He suppressed a grin and sauntered off in the direction of the wood shop.
Cat gazed at her employees. Good people who were loyal to her and to the business. They'd really stepped up after JR left, and had accepted the possibility of Chuckie handling the office work while she'd been injured without protest. She and Alex often referred to them affectionately as 'the kids', because her staff was like family to them. 'They certainly treat us better than Alex's kids!' She thought grumpily.
She was sitting on the arm of the sofa in the customer lounge. The lull had hit between lunch and after school, but she didn't want anyone who ventured in not to receive prompt service, so the meeting was always held out front.
"Before we start with the usual agenda, I have some news to share," Cat stated quietly. "In case all y'all missed the news, the Feds carted Mr. Tig and five other club members to Stockton Prison last night."
"We wondered if you were OK when we heard the news," Pete spoke up.
"I even drove by, but saw the garage's van was out front," Miss Anna added. "I figured someone from the club was with you and told the others not to worry."
'That explains why I didn't hear anything from 'em last night!' Cat observed. "Thanks, y'all. Chuckie and Chibs were there. They brought a tape Mr. Tig made that explained everything. They'll be there during the next 14 months, providin' they behave themselves."
CJ raised his hand, which was highly unusual to happen during one of the meetings.
"What's up, darlin'?"
"Did you know this was going to happen when you started to pursue the Stockton deal?"
Cat grinned at him reassuringly. "No, that was Otto Delaney's doin'."
They gazed questioningly at her.
"I know it's not been that long ago!" She protested good naturedly. "Otto - LuAnn's husband. The one I piloted durin' LuAnn's funeral."
A collection of 'Oh's' rose from the group. They had forgotten!
"No worries, kids. Just shows y'all don't have to be as old as dirt to have 'CRS'," she grinned. "Otto gave me the idea of sellin' the confections at Stockton; said the prisoners would eat it up!"
The employees groaned at the pun, but it helped alleviate the air of discouragement that had fallen on the group. "Everything's still 'go' with that?" Adrian inquired.
"It's still a go. I'll be relyin' on all y'all to have the sales items packed and ready for Sunday delivery," she replied.
"Do you want one of us to go with you?" Pete asked.
Cat shook her head. "No, but thanks for offerin'. Sunday is all y'all's day off. Chuckie's been elected to go with me to help stock, and kinda keep an eye out for me this weekend."
"But you know we'd help you if you asked!" CJ protested.
"I know, but the club feels like they need to keep an eye out for my safety to ease Mr. Tig's mind. So I'll indulge 'em."
The staff laughed as they moved on to other matters. They were ready for the upcoming baking day, and offered to write notes to Tig and the other incarcerated club members to help their morale.
"That's great. I'm sure they'll appreciate it, especially Bobby, Juice, and Happy. They don't have steady people in their lives, so anything y'all can do to lift their spirits will help," Cat stated. "I'll get the information for you on Sunday."
"What information?" Miss Anna inquired.
"Their prisoner ID numbers. All y'all are goin' to need to put that on the envelopes when y'all mail your letters."
Having the staff mention the club's morale reminded her of Colleen's bitter diatribe. "I've got one more piece of business to bring to your attention," she announced.
Her staff exchanged wary glances but remained calm, allowing her to gather her thoughts together. They knew it had to be major news, just from her tone of voice.
"It appears that Tig's daughters, Fawn and Dawn, are in need of work. I've offered to let 'em help us on baking day, and help with the Sunday delivery. I don't know if they'll accept."
Adrian and CJ exchanged glances. They had absorbed JR's time when the high schooler had been forced by his parents to quit. It sounded like they were going to lose those hours now.
"Well, it's your business, Miss Cat, and if one or both want the hours, we'll deal with it," CJ stated.
"Yeah, it's not like we're bein' demoted or anything," Adrian added.
"And, like you said, they might not accept the offer," CJ continued, mostly to lift his own spirits.
Cat shook her head at them. "Oh, bloody Hell! Sorry, darlin's. All y'all aren't affected by this. The plan is to have them alternate weekends, not take hours away from you," she assured them.
"We'll certainly appreciate the help when baking day starts getting a little more hectic in a few weeks!" Pete added.
"That's how I hoped all y'all would take it," Cat sighed with relief.
Ally still felt tired when she picked up Gemma to take her to have the ankle monitor removed. She'd taken a nap during her lunch hour, but it hadn't been enough to make up for the sleep she'd lost overnight. Still, she felt a sense of triumph from all that she'd managed to do for the club, which was her main client.
Gemma seemed much calmer than she'd been the day before when Stahl had exposed Jax's deal with her to the club. The last time Ally had seen Gemma, she'd been fearful that her son would be dead before nightfall.
"I take it from your demeanor that everything got worked out between Jax and the club," she remarked.
"It was," Gemma smiled.
"I won't ask for details. Suffice it to say that I'm glad for you."
"I'll be just as happy as you are when this monitor is off my leg!" Gemma stated. "I've got things that need my attention and can't be handled from home!"
"Do I want to know this?" Ally inquired cautiously.
"Yes, because I need your expertise. My father needs me."
"What's up, hun?"
Gemma first explained about the death of her mother and Nate's subsequent admittance to the nursing home in Klamath Falls. "I read about Rose's death in the newspaper while I was on the lam and went to see him. His mental condition has deteriorated since I left him there," she added.
"There'll be nothing to stop you from visiting him after today!" Ally assured her.
"I'm not worried about that. When we thought I was going to be in jail for a long time, Tara had a power of attorney drawn up in KF and got Daddy to sign off on it."
"And you want to have that transferred to you," Ally observed. "It's possible, but it'd be a lot easier to do when he's more lucid."
"You expect problems?"
"That's what the club pays me to do, hun," Ally grinned.
"Well, you've done a good job so far. I'm surprised the Feds agreed to release me from home detention!"
"They didn't have much choice, Gem. Had Stahl not lied about you killing Cameron Hayes in the first place, you'd never had to flee," Ally explained. "I just wish the US Attorney had agreed to remove the flight charge from your record."
"Why wouldn't he?" Gemma inquired.
"He said that an example needed to be made. Apparently he believes keeping the flight charge on your record will convince others not to do likewise - whether they're guilty or not."
"Hmpf!" Gemma snorted. "More like he figures what's one more mark on my record!"
"You're probably right." Ally sighed.
They didn't say anything more until after the ankle monitor had been removed and they had returned to Charming. "When do you intend to go see your father?"
"Tomorrow morning," Gemma replied. "I want to see for myself what's going on."
"I don't blame you there. I'll get to work on the POA paperwork, it should be ready by the time you make your next trip to see him."
"I appreciate you doing this. And for making sure the Feds didn't go back on their agreement with the club." Gemma stated.
Ally pulled her car into the Morrow's driveway and put the gear shift in park. "That was my other reason for showing up at ATF headquarters at the crack of dawn. The last thing any of us needed was to have the rug pulled out from under the guys."
Gemma opened the passenger door and got out, then leaned down to grin wickedly at the lawyer. "Sister, you done said a mouthful!"
R Jay Payne and the other reporters waited impatiently for the news conference to begin. The reporters had only been able to give live previews during the noon newscasts that the ATF and US Attorney would be conducting a joint press conference.
They suspected that there would be a statement exonerating Agent Tyler while condemning Agent Stahl's actions. Some wondered if the arrest warrant that had been issued but never served on Stahl would result in a longer prison sentence for SAMCRO on the weapons charges.
The drone of voices grew silent as the US Attorney and the ATF Director entered and walked to the front of the room. 'Guess we'll know soon enough,' Payne observed, flicking a few specks of dust from his jacket and hauling his 'Reporter's Notebook' from his pocket.
Arc lights blazed to life as the two officials took positions to either side of the podium. They were joined by Agents Richard Sullins and Jonas Carey, who stood under the ATF seal.
The US Attorney stepped forward to the podium and laid a single sheet of paper in front of him. He turned on the microphone and waited for the buzz of anticipation to quiet down.
"I have a statement to read at this time," the US Attorney announced when the room was silent. "Please hold all questions until I have completed the statement." He glanced down at his paper, then up at the reporters and the many cameras focused on him and continued, "Yesterday, Jonas Carey of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms' Internal Affairs Department completed a thorough investigation into the death of Agent Amy Tyler. That investigation concluded that Agent Tyler was not killed by unidentified Hispanic outlaws as previously claimed by her partner, Agent June Stahl. Based on evidence provided by the coroner's office and inconsistencies in Agent Stahl's recorded statement, it was determined that Agent Stahl killed her partner. Agent Tyler has been absolved of any and all wrong doing."
There was silence as the US Attorney's words sank in, then the room erupted in a cacophony of shouted questions.
The US Attorney stepped aside and motioned Agent Carey to the podium. It was his investigation, so he would be the one to answer the reporter's questions.
"All right! Settle down! One person at a time, or this press conference is over!" Carey roared angrily. He was tired and fighting a headache. He had no patience for the reporters' antics.
The reporters settled back in their seats, waving their hands frantically for his attention. Carey pointed at the reporter from the San Joaquin newspapers.
The reporter leapt from his seat and asked, "Agent Carey, how did you determine that Agent Stahl had killed Tyler?"
"Agent Stahl had stated that Tyler had admitted to the killing of Edmond Hayes in Galt. The coroner's report stipulated that there was no way that Tyler could have given any kind of statement before she died."
RJ Payne held up his hand before the newspaper reporter. When Carey acknowledged him, he stood up and gave his name and affiliation. "Agent Carey, could Stahl had been referring to a different time than when Tyler was dying?"
"Anything is possible, but Stahl gave every indication that the confession was made before Agent Tyler died," Carey admitted.
Payne had remained standing, much to the other reporters aggravation. "I have a follow up. Why would Stahl need to kill her partner?"
"Agent Stahl was using her partner as a scapegoat for the shooting in Galt. Though Gemma Teller Morrow, who had been present and was determined to have killed Polly Zobelle at that home in self defense, initially testified that Tyler had shot Edmond Hayes, that was found to be untrue."
"In what way?" The reporter from Channel 10 piped up without waiting to be recognized.
"Evidence provided to Channel 2 News by Agent Tyler proved she was innocent. Once that thread was pulled, Stahl's entire story unraveled."
The newspaper reporter's hand shot up. "What about Mrs. Morrow? We know she fled the country for a few days. Has she been charged for that?"
Carey nodded. "She has been charged with being an international fugitive and with interstate flight for her first disappearance after the Galt shooting. Due to the indue influence Agent Stahl placed on her, Mrs. Morrow was forced to provide false testimony to the US Attorney. The deal Agent Stahl worked out for her - six months home detention - has been rescinded."
RJ raised his hand again. "Is that a direct result of the kidnapping of her grandson by Edmond Hayes' father that resulted from the status report Agent Stahl broadcast?"
Agent Sullivan stepped forward to the microphone. "I'll take that question. We determined from hourly reports of the surveillance team at Galt that Stahl knew Cameron Hayes monitored all police band broadcasts, including the status reports. Stahl's deliberate lie caused the kidnapping, which led to considerable anguish for the Teller - Morrow family. We believe that Mrs. Morrow has suffered enough punishment."
Another reporter's hand shot up. "What about the members of that motorcycle club that was taken off to prison yesterday on Federal weapons charges?"
"What about it?" Sullins retorted.
"Well, wasn't Stahl involved in their surrender? Didn't she initiate the deal that led to it in the first place?"
"The deal stands. Information was provided in good faith that would have helped us close down the Norcal gun running operation. The fact that Agent Stahl was killed by factions within the IRA to prevent that from happening does not nullify the agreement."
The ATF director stepped forward. "I wish to point out that while Agent Stahl's career ended on a low note, she was a dedicated law enforcement officer for the majority of her career. The fact that she died in disgrace does not make her a bad person. She made some bad choices."
"Does Stahl have any family? What will happen to her remains?" The newspaper reporter asked.
"She had no family. Agent Stahl will be buried in a private ceremony without law enforcement recognition. Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen."
The director turned away while the reporters shouted over each other to get more questions answered. He nodded to Sullins and Carey to precede him from the conference room. They were followed by the US Attorney. They walked out of the door to the blessed sounds of silence.
