Charming Pawse Book III Chapter XX (3:20) Sight

by wanderingchat

Tig learns the repercussions for the high speed chase, but manages to get to the hospital in time for Cat's eye test. Lumpy gets another visit from Darby and Hale plots his latest attempt to gain the last property on Liberty Street. Sebastian tries to sever his ties with the club, but no one has the time to listen. By nightfall, another tragedy will strike.

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

Book III

Chapter XIX

Sight

Ima woke and stretched languidly. She was riding the same wave of euphoria as the previous morning, but this time, there wouldn't be a heart – rending crash back to earth. She'd spent the night in Kozik's arms and had enjoyed every minute because he wanted to be with her. The fact that he wanted her to become his 'old lady' touched her to the core. Her self – confidence had been badly bruised by Jax's rejection. The SAMCRO VP had only used her as a tool to hurt his own 'old lady'. Though Ima had carried a torch for Jax for a long time, he'd thoroughly doused that fire with his blunt disregard for her desire to comfort him after Tara had discovered his betrayal and walked out of the apartment. Getting slapped by her best friend and fellow 'Saffron Sister' hadn't helped. Her cheek was still sore from the blow; she would have to use additional makeup to hide the discoloration.

Ima wasn't looking forward to that day's filming, as Dondo was filming several scenes involving Lyla and her. 'If it wasn't so lucrative, I'd call in today. Dondo isn't as pliable as LuAnn was. He'd use this as an excuse to put someone else in my place, and I'd lose out on any future films in that series!'

Kozik stirred and stretched beside her. He yawned and turned his face to hers. "Mornin' beautiful!' He murmured.

"Good morning! Sleep well?"

He grinned mischievously at her. "Once I finally got to sleep!" Kozik pulled her on top of him to present her with a long, delicious good morning kiss. "Now that's what I call gettin' the day off to a good start!" He added when they broke the kiss.

"But it's not very nourishing," she laughed. "You do have a busy day ahead of you. I know they can't all be like yesterday, though it was fun."

"True, dat. Unfortunately," he agreed. "What's on your plate today, baby?"

"The usual. Filming scenes for the next installment of the 'Saffron Sisters' saga," she shrugged.

Kozik gazed intently at her. Her tone of voice indicated to him that she was reticent about the idea. "Is the gal that hit you – "

"Lyla," she supplied.

"Thanks. Is Lyla filming with you?"

"She's the other 'Saffron Sister'," she explained, her eyes wide with surprise. 'He really doesn't know! He must not watch much porn. Guess he doesn't have to with a physique like his. Probably has a girl for every day of the week in Tacoma!'

Kozik watched the emotions play across her face. Not only was she apprehensive about filming with Lyla, he caught the brief moment of jealousy and had an idea where her thoughts had taken her. "I won't lie to ya, baby. There's plenty of pussy in Tacoma. The Croweaters there were only appealing for a quick fuck, and that's it."

Her eyes darkened a moment in sympathy to the girls in Tacoma. However, Ima refrained from giving voice to her thoughts.

Kozik could easily read her body language and realized he'd given her the wrong impression. "They didn't appeal to me in the way you do, baby!" He protested. "That doesn't mean I treated 'em like dogs."

She visibly relaxed and her eyes brightened. She wouldn't have liked to hear that Kozik was capable of being as callous as Jax.

He grinned at her and sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of hot coffee brewing. "Smells great!"

She smiled back and rose fluidly from the bed, allowing him to get a good look at her well – loved, naked body. "If you need to use the restroom, there's a half bath next to the laundry nook."

"Thanks, baby," he replied, linking his hands behind his head to watch her parade to the master bath. "I agree that some things aren't meant to be shared!"

She laughed and closed the bathroom door behind her. Her bladder was about to burst, and she was thankful that Kozik shared her belief about observing certain proprieties. She started the shower running so the water would be the right temperature once she'd completed her personal business. While she waited for the toilet to run its' course, she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheek bore a red imprint of Lyla's hand. It was still sore, but the ice pack had kept the injury from turning a darker color. She wouldn't have to use as much makeup as she'd anticipated to cover it up.

Ima stepped into the warm shower and adjusted the massaging shower head to a gentle pulse. She remained under the spray without moving so the water would work on her back and neck muscles. Then she began washing her hair. A draft of cool air warned her the bathroom door had opened.

"I thought you might want a cup of coffee, baby!" Kozik announced. "I set it on the counter for you."

"Thank you!" She called out over running water. "Care to join me?"

"Wish I could, baby," he replied ruefully. "If I do, we'll never get outta here." He reluctantly closed the door to recline on the bed, sipping his own coffee as he waited for his turn in the shower.

Ima couldn't help smiling at the gesture. She'd never had anyone bring coffee to her. It was usually her job to do the fetching. 'A girl could used to this kind of treatment!' The coffee was still warm and stimulating when she stepped out of the shower. She took a sip before wrapping her body in a large, fluffy towel and her hair in a smaller one. She put out a fresh towel and washcloth for Kozik and turned on the exhaust fan to clear the condensation on the mirror. She opened the door to the bath to find him stretched out under the covers, sipping on his own coffee and watching for her.

A wry smile crossed his face to see her body was covered. "Like you said, lover, we might not get out of here if we get started!" She gleefully reminded him.

"Doesn't mean I gotta like it!" He grumbled, throwing the covers off to reveal his own glorious attributes.

"Yum! Talk about temptation!" Ima purred. "But I've got to be a good girl and get ready for work," she added hastily as Kozik started showing signs of interest. "I'll fix you something to eat while you wash."

"Spoil sport!" He pouted before walking into the bathroom.

Ima sipped at her coffee while she pawed through her closet to determine what she was going to wear for the day. Not that she really needed to concentrate on her outfit to work, but she did want to look nice for Kozik. She finally settled on low rider jeans, sandals, and a spaghetti strap shirt. The shirt hem came down to her butt, leaving nothing exposed. Sometimes, she liked leaving a little mystery instead of exposing her belly button to the world. This was one of those times.

While Kozik showered, she whipped up some scrambled eggs and toast for him. While his breakfast remained warm in the oven, she cut a grapefruit into sections and added a cup of yogurt and granola to her plate. She poured another cup of coffee to savour while she waited for her man to join her. 'My man. I like the sound of that!'

Kozik glanced apprehensively into the shower to determine whether he wanted to use Ima's soap or just get spit washed with plain water. To his relief, she didn't use frilly perfumed soap, but the good old bar soap he used that didn't have perfume. 'Good! I don't think I could've put up with ribbin' from the guys. Especially Tiggie's brand of ribbin'!' He found the massaging shower head an unexpected delight. He had a kink in one shoulder from cradling Ima's head all night. The heated water and pulsating water fingers worked the kink loose as well any masseuse. 'Not as fun, though!'

He reluctantly turned off the water and reached for the towel Ima had left out for him. He briskly rubbed himself dry, then wrapped the towel around his waist. Kozik dressed quickly in his usual attire of jeans, shirt, and his boots. He slipped his rings on his fingers and clipped his wallet to one of his belt loops, slipping the wallet into his back pocket. Then he stepped out of the bedroom to find Ima sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for him.

"Shit!" He clapped his palm against his forehead. "I left my coffee cup in the bathroom, be right back!"

Ima smiled indulgently at his back before rising from her chair to retrieve his plate from the oven. She placed the plate on the cloth place mat, then turned back to the counter for the coffeepot.

Kozik strode back out of the bedroom, draining his coffee along the way.

"I figured you'd be ready for a refill," Ima observed, holding up the coffeepot.

Kozik placed the cup on the table so she could fill it. He remained standing while she poured more coffee for herself and put the pot back on the coffeemaker. She turned back, intending to sit down, to find him right behind her. She squealed as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her soundly. "Good mornin', baby. Breakfast looks good!" He murmured a little later.

She slid into her chair while he walked around the table to his own chair. He glanced from his plate to hers and back at his, then raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Is that all you're eatin'?"

"For now, yes. Dondo always has something brought in for us when we're filming. I'll be snacking on all kinds of fruits, veggies, and things like that during the day," she explained.

Kozik's eyes narrowed. "Doesn't that mean believe in protein? Meat and cheese and shit like that?" "Oh sure!" Ima replied airily. "It all depends on who's filming on a given day. Don't worry, lover, I'll be just fine!"

"Can't have my girl gettin' malnourished!" He mumbled around a mouthful of breakfast.

They ate in companionable silence. Kozik got up after the meal to retrieve his cell phone. He returned to the table as Ima was clearing the dishes and sat down to finish his coffee.

"What's your cell number?" he asked. Ima gave it to him and he entered it into the contacts of his pre paid. He entered the letters 'MGI' as the contact name.

Ima gazed at him inquisitively. "What's that mean?"

"My own code. 'My girl Ima.' If the phone gets lost or taken from me, no one will know who you are and try to make trouble. Where's your phone?"

"In my purse," she replied, moving to the living room where she'd left her purse the day before. She dug out her cell phone and brought it back to the table. Kozik called her number and watched as her cell phone rang. She gazed at the caller ID, which read 'Washington call.' Kozik terminated the call and added, "Now you have my number, and can call me when you need to. Just don't put my name on it, or anything havin' to do with the club."

"In case the phone gets lost or taken from me, right?" She grinned.

"You got it, baby!"

Ima thought for a moment, then selected a name for his contact that she'd instantly recognize. Kozik read what she'd entered and grinned back at her. "I like that!"

"Hoped you would," she replied.

Kozik glanced at the clock and drained the last of his coffee. "Listen, baby, I don't know for sure what time I'll be home tonight. I'll doubt there'll be much for us to deal with."

"I know. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Ima replied. "And don't worry, lover, what you tell me stays right here."

Kozik reached across the table to caress her cheek with the back of his hand. "I knew that, baby. Ya didn't have to tell me!" He gave her a quick goodbye kiss then headed for the closet to retrieve his cut. He shrugged into it and slipped his shades on. "Don't work too hard, baby! Don't want ya to be too tired later!"

---

TIg stormed through the double glass doors of CPD, digging a cigarette out of his possessions. He lit up the minute his boots touched the concrete walkway. He was annoyed and angry that his license had been suspended. He'd had no points on his license until the day before; the high speed chase shouldn't have caused him to go over the maximum number of points to lead to a license suspension. 'I'll have to get Lowen to look into that!' he grumbled to himself as he inhaled on the cigarette.

Tara stared at the cigarette dangling from Tig's mouth as they walked to the parking lot. "I hope you don't expect to smoke that thing in my car!"

Tig drew another deep drag on the smouldering cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs, then let it out through his nose. "Relax, sweetheart. It's just been a few hours since the last one. I kinda need this."

"I know," she smiled sympathetically. "That bit about your license was an unexpected shock." She pulled her cell phone from her purse and dialed the number to the garage.

"Teller – Morrow, this is Chuckie." "Tara here. We've run into a problem with the tow truck."

"Let me get Piney," Chuckie replied, tapping on the window that separated the office from the garage to get the founding member's attention.

Piney was standing in the middle of the garage, discussing the day's work with the employees. He glanced over his shoulder when he heard the rapping sound coming from the window.

Chuckie pointed at the receiver he held in his other hand, then gesture for Piney to come take the call. He raised one finger to indicated he'd be there in a minute.

"OK, boys. Get to work. We've got a long day ahead of us," Piney ordered before ambling into the office and accepting the receiver from Chuckie.

"It's Dr. Knowles," Chuckie explained.

"What's up, honey?" Piney rumbled.

"Tig's out of jail, but his license has been suspended. CPD won't release the tow truck to him."

"Can you sign it out?"

Tara sighed. "No. I offered, but Unser won't let me unless someone other than Tig is present to drive it."

'Shit!' Piney rubbed his hand over his face, then glanced out the window into the garage. He spied Kozik sitting on a worktable and grinned. "Take Tig on over to impound. I'll have someone around to pick him and the tow truck up in a few minutes."

Piney hung up the phone and glanced at Chuckie. "Get one of the prospects to take Kozik to impound in the van," he ordered.

"I accept that!" Chuckie scurried off to the clubhouse to complete his mission.

Piney lumbered into the garage and stopped in front of Kozik. "Need you to go to CPD impound, pick up Tig and the tow truck. One of the prospects will drive ya in the van."

"Why?"

"Tig's license got suspended from the chase. CPD won't release the truck to Tara if Tig's there by himself. She can't drive the tow truck." Piney spotted Filthy Phil heading for the van. "Your driver's ready, so get goin'!"

Kozik trotted to the van, reaching it just as Filthy Phil settled into the driver's seat. Kozik was looking forward to needling Tig about the suspended license.

Tara shut her phone after her conversation ended with Piney. She glanced at Tig, who was savouring the last of his cigarette. "You do realize that thing's going to kill you, don't you?"

Tig laughed outright. "Sweetheart, just breathin' can kill ya!"

"You might have a point," Tara mused with a wry grin. "You're still not getting into my car with that thing!"

"You sound a lot like Cat. She doesn't like for her car to smell like stale cigarette smoke, either. By the way, did ya stop in to see her this mornin'?"

"How do you think you got bailed out?" Tara replied. "I just put my signature on the dotted line. Cat put up the money."

Tig's insides warmed from that information. As always, his wife had come through for him, even though the circumstances were stacked against her. "Heard she wasn't too pleased about me bein' in jail. Surprised she obeyed me and stayed where she belonged!"

"Don't break your arm patting yourself on the back," Tara retorted, opening her cell and activating the camera. She brought up the picture of Cat in restraints and held the phone out so Tig could look at the picture. "She didn't exactly have a choice. See for yourself."

Tig gazed at the picture and smiled slyly. "She still in those?"

Tara shook her head. "Sorry. I released her this morning after agreeing to come bail you out."

"Lemme guess, she tried to sneak outta the hospital," he observed wryly.

Tara nodded. "The on call doctor caught her on the stairwell. He not only ordered an injectible sedative, but also ordered the restraints for her own good."

"But he left her legs free?" Tig had grown hard at the sight of his wife in arm restraints. The thought that she might be fully restrained and laying spread eagle on the bed made him totally erect.

"Dr. Kelley believed the sedative and the arm restraints were enough to keep her from wondering off. It's not like she'd pick up the bed and take off with it!"

"You don't know my girl!" Tig retorted. He used Tara's phone to message a copy of the photo to his cell phone. "For future reference," he replied innocently to Tara's unspoken inquiry.

"I'll bet!" she murmured, taking the phone from him and returning it to her purse. "If you're done with your cigarette, we might as well get going. Piney was sending someone out to drive the tow truck back."

They walked to the black Olds parked in the shade of a nearby tree. Tig slid into the passenger side and stuck his elbow out the open window.

Tara took her place behind the wheel, placing her purse on the bench seat between them.

"Nice car. Your dad's, wasn't it?"

Tara nodded and buckled her seat belt. "Aren't you going to wear yours?"

"Nah, we're just goin' a little way," Tig shrugged. He smiled briefly as he thought of the furor his wife would raise if she could see him. 'She'd really be hissed off after the way I get on to her about safety harnesses!'

Tara shook her head and started the engine, allowing Tig to listen to the engine rumble. She put in gear and drove out of the parking lot towards the impound lot.

"Car's soundin' pretty good since it's been tuned up. Guess your dad wasn't up to drivin' much in his last days."

"Apparently not. I'm glad it wasn't anything major; Dad was partial to this car. I sometimes feel closer to him when I'm driving it."

Tig didn't know how to respond to that, so he opted to change the subject. "I'm tellin' ya, doc, sometimes I dunno know whether to kiss Cat or kill her when she pulls shit like she pulled last night!"

"Don't be too hard on her, Tig," Tara cautioned. "She was upset and worried about you."

"Hell! I called and told her not to worry and not to come bail me out! Called Lowen first, then wheedled a second call to let her know I was OK." Tig growled.

"Doesn't matter, Tig. Trust me, when a woman finds out that her man's in trouble, she's going to move Heaven and Earth to help him. She was determined to walk to CPD to bail you out."

Tig glanced at the doctor, then massaged the bridge of his nose again. "Oh, shit!"

"Take my advice, Tig. Don't kill her when you go visit. The hospital could use a break from excitement!"

Tig winced at Tara's pointed reference to Gem's escape. "You get any fallout from that?"

"Just the bruise on the side of my face."

Tig glanced out the side of one eye at her. "How'd that happen?"

"My supervisor hit me in order to make our cover story more believable," Tara replied. She explained to the incredulous SAA how Margaret had agreed to back her up with Unser and the Feds. "I think that learning Stahl was responsible for calling off the Amber Alert on Abel tipped the scales in our favor," she added.

Tig couldn't believe his ears. From everything he'd heard about Tara's supervisor, the woman was vehemently against the doctor's involvement with the MC. He hoped that Margaret's help wouldn't backfire on Tara later.

"You and your old lady think the same way!" Tara laughed. "She thinks Margaret has ulterior motives for helping me."

"Cat's pretty good at readin' people. She might be right," Tig replied.

"She's also not happy with me for takin' that picture of her. She tossed her pillow at my head!"

"Before or after you released her?"

"Before."

"She's feisty. Be glad it was just a pillow," Tig grinned slyly. "Surprised ya let her outta the restraints!"

"You would've enjoyed that," she retorted. "I'm beginning to think that picture is putting all kinds of wrong ideas in your head!"

"There's no such thing as a wrong idea, doc!" Tig grinned lasciviously.

Tara shook her head in mock dismay as the Cutlass drew in front of the CPD impound gate. The garage van was just pulling up on the other side of the street. Tig got out of the Cutlass, holding the envelope of his personal possession in one hand and the Reaper jacket in the other. "Thanks for the lift, doc," he stated, shutting the door after him.

"Are you going to the hospital from here? I can wait and take you," she offered.

"Nah. I'll have whoever Piney sent drop me off."

"How will you get to the garage from there?"

"Prolly call one of the prospects," he shrugged. He patted the window frame of the car to send her on her way and stepped back. "See you later."

She slowly pulled away from the entrance, watching in the rear view mirror to see who was going to be driving the tow truck. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when she saw Kozik jump out of the van and trot across the street to join Tig. 'I've got another bad feeling now! What was Piney thinking in sending Kozik after Tig?' She considered turning around and renewing her offer to take Tig to the hospital, but the pair had already passed the entrance to the impound lot. Tara shrugged and headed towards the garage. She hoped she wouldn't have to repair any wounds to either rider later on. 'But I won't make bet on it!'

---

Jacob Hale's cell phone buzzed for his attention from his coat pocket. He was leaving Hale Properties for the day. He counted on his secretary to prepare the office for the next day and lock up. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and gazed at the caller ID. 'This can't be good,' he thought as he accepted the call.

"Gemma Teller Morrow escaped custody," the voice on the other end informed him.

"Where was Unser? Why didn't he prevent it?" Hale cried.

"She faked a bad reaction to meds. There's talk that she had help from Dr. Knowles, but she and her supervisor claim Gemma slugged her and used her key card to get away," the voice explained.

"And where was Unser? He was supposed to escort her to county!" Hale snorted. He didn't like having to ask the same question twice.

"Unser was there, he saw Mrs. Morrow get taken into a therapy room. Apparently they were going to do an ice bath to bring her temperature down and control the seizures. He didn't go into the room and Dr. Knowles sent the Fed outside the room as Mrs. Morrow's clothes were going to be removed. That's when she made her escape."

"Then where she is now?"

"On the run. The Feds haven't announced it to the media." The voice replied.

"Probably don't want to let it be known that they led a murderess get away from them," Hale observed dryly. "This is just great!"

"Unser was seen helping with search for Mrs. Morrow," the voice supplied.

"OK, keep me posted if you learn anything new. You're find your stipend in the usual place at the usual time." Hale closed his cell phone and drove home. The nightly San Joaquin Chronicle had landed in the evergreen bushes again. 'Damn paper carrier never manages to hit the porch, always these prickly bushes!' He managed to retrieve the paper without incident and opened it up to find a page one story about Tig Trager's arrest following a high speed chase.

He noted the chase involved three law enforcement agencies. "Jesus Christ! That son of a bitch was running interference for Gemma!" He sighed, opened the door to his house and threw the paper onto the hall table. Right next to the story about Tig Trager was a rewrite about Cat Marshall - Trager's bid to run for city council. Hale didn't have to read the article again, and doubted that the voters of Charming would hold her husband's behavior against her.

'She did a good job of eliminating guilt by association as a reason to deny her the spot!' Hale mused wryly, recalling how she'd pointedly reminded all and sundry who had brought Ethan Zobelle and LOAN to town. 'She has the voters eating out of her hand!' He walked into his din and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. He splashed a generous portion of bourbon into a glass and tossed a large amount down his throat in one big gulp. Tears burned his eyes from the impact of the smoky drink.

He carried the drink across the room, settling into his recliner with a snort of disgust. There was no doubt in his mind that Croucher would not win the primary. "He's become more of a liability than an asset anyway. I can make things happen better without him."

He stood up and moved to his desk to check his home phone for messages. Not that he expected the call he was waiting on to be on his voice mail; the caller wouldn't know who was calling him, and even if he did find out Hale's identity, his home phone wasn't listed. Still, he'd learned from his father not to overlook the slightest possibility. The voice mail indicator wasn't flashing, which meant no messages. '

I hate it when people don't return my phone calls!' He was waiting on one particular phone call, a return call from Hector Salazar, leader of the Calavarez MC. 'If this is indicative of what LOAN thinks is a good worker, I have news for them!'

He dialed Salazar's number again, not expecting to get an answer and intending to leave a terse message.

"Yeah?" came a female voice.

"Um, yeah. Is Hector available?"

"No. Who's this?" the woman's voice was guarded.

'She's cautious. Not giving anything away. That's good.' But Hale couldn't help staring at his phone in surprise. He wasn't used to having people question him. He usually asked the questions. Still, he could be just as cautious. "A potential employer. When will he be available?"

"I don't know. I recognize your voice; you called earlier. Must be a good job."

"It has the potential to be lucrative. But it's not open long. Have him call me as soon as possible." The line went dead the minute Hale said the word 'possible'. He looked at the phone, unable to believe the woman had hung up on him. Then he smiled derisively. If Salazar was anything like that woman, he might be worth waiting for.

In the meantime, he had important things to consider. The botched drug raid on SAMCRO and Gemma Teller Morrow's escape being chief among them. Those events had Unser's involvement written all over them. He was obviously trying to play both ends against the middle, and Hale wasn't going to tolerate that. 'First thing tomorrow, I'll tighten the reigns on our police chief. If he thinks he's going to give me chin music to make me happy while he continues to help SAMCRO, he's got another think comin'!'

---

Miles looked up from the bar in time to see Sebastian shuffle through the clubhouse entrance. He had on his cut and a long, sad expression on his face.

"Well, well! Look who finally decided to join the party!"

"Where the Hell were you yesterday?" Filthy Phil added. "Opie was real pissed that you didn't show up."

"Chibs sent me on an assignment, told me to stay away from the clubhouse." Sebastian explained. "Said he'd tell the club."

Filthy Phil and Miles exchanged glances and shrugged. They couldn't recall hearing any of the patched members talking about that, but since it might have been discussed in the chapel, it wasn't intended for their ears.

"Well, you missed the big send off," Miles added. "Quite a bit of excitement yesterday."

"How so?" Sebastian inquired. "Gemma escaped to go to Belfast with the others, and Tig spent the night at the CPD hotel." Miles informed him.

"What?!"

"Charming PD jail," Filthy Phil recounted what they'd learned from Clay pertaining to Gem's escape and Tig's subsequent apprehension by police.

Sebastian shook his head in disbelief. "Did Tig get bail yet?"

Filthy Phil shook his head. "Not yet. His old lady's in the hospital again, he took her in yesterday. Apparently she's suffering from exhaustion."

"That's the coffeehouse owner," Sebastian observed. "The one plannin' to run for city council."

"The same," Miles stated.

"So how'd your assignment for Chibs go?" Filthy Phil asked.

Sebastian shrugged. "OK, I guess. Who all went to Belfast?"

"Better to say who didn't go!" Miles laughed. "Piney, Tig, and Kozik are the only patched members who didn't go."

"I think that Tig would be the head man, as he's Sergeant at Arms," Filthy Phil added.

"But Piney's First Nine!" Miles protested.

"Doesn't matter," Filthy Phil retorted. "Didn't you read your 'SAMCRO Rules and Regs' yet?"

Miles and Sebastian answer was to give him a blank stare. "'In the event of absence and/or inability to perform the duties of office of President, the duties will then fall to the VP, the Secretary/Treasurer, or Sergeant at Arms, in that order. In the event that all four officers are absent or unable to perform the duty, then the most active patched member will act as President'." Filthy Phil quoted. "

Then I'm right, Piney's actin' Prez," Miles replied.

"No, Tig's SAA, so he's in charge," Sebastian countered.

"But Tig's in jail, so he can't perform the job!" Miles insisted.

"Only until he's bailed out," Filthy Phil added. "And the rules say 'most active patched member'. Piney's not been that active in the club. Kinda moot anyway, as soon as Tig bonds out, he's in charge."

'Which leaves me to decide who I'd rather surrender my cut to, Tig or Piney. Frankly, they both scare me," Sebastian mused. 'I don't think I wanna wait for Chibs to return, though.'

Filthy Phil noticed that Sebastian was more reserved than he'd been the day they were promoted to prospect status.

"You OK, man?"

"Yeah, just have a lot on my mind," Sebastian replied.

'Hope he's gotten over that prima donna attitude of his,' Filthy mused.

Chuckie trotted into the clubhouse and headed straight for the prospects. "Hey guys! Piney needs one of you to take Kozik to CPD impound."

"What's up?" Miles asked.

"Tig can't drive the tow truck back. His license got suspended," Chuckie replied. "Tara just called with the news."

The prospects exchanged worried glances. They were sharing the same thought, wondering who would be in charge with Tig's license suspended. Would that be Piney, or Kozik?

Chuckie knew the three prospects were worried. "Listen, Tig's a smart guy. He's gonna figure things out. In the meantime, one of you needs to hustle on out there."

"I'll go," Filthy Phil replied.

"I accept that!" Chuckie turned and trotted back out to the garage, followed at a slower pace by Filthy Phil.

As Phil departed the clubhouse, Miles and Sebastian began to start on the chores. The clubhouse was a bit messy, and they didn't want Tig or Piney to catch them napping.

'I'll ask to talk to Tig and Piney together, and turn in my cut. The MC is not what I thought it would be. Chibs was right. It's best for me to get out early and not waste their time.' Sebastian decided while he carried the garbage bags out to the back. He felt better after making that decision. He knew it was the right one for him, even though he'd never be allowed to hang around the club again. He hoped the two patched members would understand. 'Maybe I should check those rules and regs Filthy was talkin' about before I talk to them, just to be on the safe side!'

---

Wayne Unser slumped dejectedly in his office chair. His cop's instincts - honed over many years of service - told him that Tara Knowles hadn't told the truth about Gemma's escape from the hospital. It didn't matter that the doctor's supervisor, Margaret Murphy, had backed up Tara's story. While the two women might've convinced the Feds, Unser could smell the lie. It stank like raw sewage. Proving the story was nothing but a lie was going to be a problem.

While Tig retrieved his personal possessions from the property room, Unser had taken Tara aside to try to convince her to come clean. He promised to help her with the Feds, so that she wouldn't get in any trouble with them. Tara had refused to change her statement.

As the outlaw and the doctor were leaving, Unser dropped the bomb he'd been eagerly anticipating, that Tig's license was suspended and probably wouldn't be valid for a good two years. Unser didn't get as much satisfaction as he'd thought. Tig's reaction had been about what Unser had expected, angry and frustrated. Tig's parting comment, however, hit Unser below the belt.

'I know I'm dying, you son of a bitch, you don't have to rub my nose in it!' Unser glared at the outlaw's retreating back. Tig, unaware and uncaring of the hurt his comment had caused, continued on out the door with the doctor.

Unser had retreated like a whipped cur to the safety of his office. 'Doesn't the club understand that my back's against the wall?' he moaned to himself, holding his head in his hands. 'I'm trying to keep Charming PD from going under as a favor to them! They don't know how difficult things will be if the Sheriff takes over!'

He wished once more that he had retired as scheduled. He'd only had another week of his extension left before David Hale had been killed in that drive - by shooting at Dubrowski's. Unfortunately, wishes didn't always come true. David Hale was dead and Unser had no choice but continue to serve as Police Chief until a replacement could be found. That meant he would continue to be caught in the middle of the on - going feud between SAMCRO and Jacob Hale.

All SAMCRO wanted was for Wayne to continue playing by the rules that were established 20 plus years ago. Jacob Hale, meanwhile, wanted Unser to help him destroy the club. Unser would do anything to keep the peace, but he wasn't willing to go that far. 'I've been walking this fine line too long tryin' to keep things peaceful in this town. It's not been easy; I've not always liked what I've had to do. The end result used to be worth it. Now, I just want to hurry up and die and get it over with!'

He hated being at odds with the club and really hated it that Gemma thought he'd turned on them. Far from it. What he was doing now he was doing out of love. Love for his town and love for the woman he'd cared most for since they were both children. He still loved her, despite her callous dismissal of him in the hospital parking lot the day before.

He admired Clay and many of the men of the MC. He even admired Tig at times. Mostly, he envied the feeling of brotherhood they shared. Sometimes he felt like it was extended to include him. Other times, such as now, he never felt more lonely. He didn't have many friends in town. He certainly didn't have friends in the department. It was difficult to be friends with subordinates. The closest he had to a friend at work was Officer Eglee, and that was only because she was also on SAMCRO's payroll.

Other than his friendship with Gemma, which seemed to be dead at the moment, he knew he could rely on Floyd the barber. He was a good friend and almost a confidante of sorts. Being a friend of the club, Floyd was very sympathetic to Unser's burdens. Floyd had never betrayed his confidence in him. 'Another person I used to consider a friend was Cat Marshall.

'Guess I should be thinkin' of her as Cat Trager now. Dunno that she's a friend after that browbeating she gave me this morning.'

The phone in his office started ringing at 8AM, and continued ringing every five minutes without the caller leaving a message. The caller ID showed it was originating from the hospital, so he had a pretty good idea who was calling. Eventually the constant ringing wore him down.

"Hello, Cat," he sighed into the receiver.

"What the Hell were you thinkin', Wayne, lockin' Tig up overnight without bail?" Cat growled angrily.

He grimaced at the firm, angry tone in her voice. 'She doesn't waste any time, just gets right to the point!' He took a deep breath and replied cheerily, "Good morning to you, too!"

She snorted into the receiver. He couldn't tell whether that was a laugh or an expression of frustration on her part. "That husband of yours didn't give me much choice, Cat. I do have to act like a cop sometimes!"

"I know that, Wayne, but c'mon! Holdin' the man overnight without bail for a few motor vehicle offenses is a just a bit over the top!Y'all were just showin' who could be the biggest dick."

"There was a little more to it than the moving violations," Unser retorted. "The bastard pointed his gun at me!" He could imagine her rolling her eye towards the ceiling on the other side of the line. Her tone of voice certainly reflected it.

"Y'all know damn good and well Tig wouldn't have shot your ass - or any other part of you!"

"Try looking at the business end of a loaded gun sometime and say that!" Unser snapped. "He deserved a little cooling off time for pulling that gun on me!"

Cat remained silent for a few seconds. When she spoke, her voice was calmer. "Wayne, I see your point of view, and even sympathize with y'all up to a point. But it was really dirty pool to try to have his Morado bond revoked."

"Lowen told you about that, eh? Yes, I asked about it. What the Hell did you expect me to do? Ignore it? He pointed a gun at me, Cat! That's not exactly polite behavior!"

"When has Tig ever behaved politely?" She inquired.

"Never," Unser reluctantly admitted. "

Then why the Hell did y'all talk to the county prosecutor about it? Y'all know that most of the charges against the guys can't be substantiated!"

"But there's still the automatic weapons charges," Unser pointed out in a calmer tone of voice. "You can't deny that most of 'em were carrying machine guns!"

"I'm not even gonna try," she informed him stiffly. "Don't y'all understand that I'm mad at you for playin' dirty? That's so not you!"

"Consider me chastised. Is that what you wanna hear?" Unser snapped. "

Not in that tone of voice," she hissed. "Obviously you're not willin' to look at the rest of the picture, just your cozy little piece of it that justifies what y'all tried to do. Fine! Just tell me how much his bond will be, and I'll have someone down to pay it."

Unser gave her the amount. He winced at the sharp intake of breath he heard from her end. He feared something else besides the cost of her husband's bail was hurting her. "I heard you're back in the hospital, honey. You a'right?"

"Can the concern, Wayne. It's a little late in comin'. If y'all really cared, you wouldn't have gone on that damn vendetta against Tig. And I'm not your honey!" She snapped.

Unser reeled from the hurt her response caused him. He'd never had her infamous temper directed at him before. He'd heard all about the dressing - down she'd given Hale after the club was arrested at Morado, and he'd hoped to never get on her bad side. 'So much for that,' Unser mused.

Since he was already on her 'shit list', he figured he might as well make it worth while. "You might as well know that Tig's license is suspended, and will probably stay that way for the next two years!"

"What? Why on Earth was it suspended? He didn't have any points on his license!"

Unser replied evenly, "Sorry, sweetheart. A man can't lead three law enforcement agencies on a high speed chase without racking up a passel of violations."

"In other words, he's been tripled cited for the same violations," Cat observed angrily. "Talk about gangin' up on a fella!"

Unser shook his head. The conversation was getting completely out of hand. "I don't have time for this bullshit, Cat. You've got what you wanted. I'll expect your representative or lawyer later!" He slammed the receiver on the cradle, abruptly ending the call. He sat watching the phone, waiting to see if she'd call back and read him the riot act for hanging up on her. His office line remained silent.

After 15 minutes of blessed quiet from the phone, he sighed again and started to work on the vast piles of paperwork on his desk. An hour later, he was surprised to see Tara walk in to post Tig's bail. He'd expected Ally Lowen and had prepared himself for a severe lesson on the finer points of moving violations and jurisdictional citations.

He quickly shifted gears to try to talk some sense into the doctor to no avail. Unser watched the doctor and the biker exit the building, then he walked into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He realized that all the station had was the whiskey blend from 'Charming Pawse'. 'Ah, well. Coffee's coffee, and I'm not going to waste time driving to the gas station for their shit.

---

After Tara assured her that she was going directly to the bank, Cat called her bank to advise the head teller of the total amount of the withdrawal and who would be picking it up. "If all y'all need to call me for the verbal authorization when Dr. Knowles arrives, it's best to call the hospital room number," she added, providing the number to the teller

A nursing aide brought in her breakfast, which she chose to eat while sitting in the chair in the room. The television was tuned to the local ad and radio channel, as there was nothing worth watching on any of the other channels.

"Hope you have an appetite," the aide chirped as she set the tray on the rolling table.

"A little," Cat replied. "Any idea when Dr. Smythe will be around to examine my eye?"

The aide shook her head. "I'll ask the duty RN, perhaps she can tell you."

Cat nodded and uncovered the plate. Plain scrambled eggs and toast sat next to two links of sausage. She tried a small bite of the sausage and found it wasn't greasy or too crisp. The coffee was disappointing. 'They still haven't learned how to make decent coffee! It tastes like warm water with a brown crayon dipped in it!'

She thought longingly of her whiskey blend, or a non fat white chocolate mocha made with the whiskey blend. "No sense wishin' for somethin' I can't have!" Cat sighed in resignation and sipped the lukewarm sludge. "Unless I can talk one of the kids in bringing some over for me later. Guess I'll check in with 'em during the lull."

She had no idea how long it would take for Alex to be released. She hoped either he or Tara would call to let her know he was free. 'Maybe he'll get a ride over here to visit!' The thought lifted her spirits a bit, as she was still bothered by her earlier call to Unser. She couldn't believe that he had hung up on her! He was equally as responsible as she was for the conversation becoming as heated as it had gotten. 'I could've kept my temper a little more in check,' she mused. 'I was more upset by the situation than at Unser himself.'

She briefly toyed with the idea of calling back and apologizing, but didn't feel up to another telephonic battle. 'I'll just wait until we can talk in person, less chance of either of us hangin' up on each other. She still felt tired and drained. The iron infusion had done some good, but the interrupted sleep hadn't helped her feel any better.

Breakfast finished, and with no sign of the duty RN, Cat had a quick basin bath in anticipation of getting a visit from her husband. The last thing she wanted to smell like was sweat. She wished she could take a full shower and wash her hair like she did every day. She wasn't up to having Dr. Smythe fuss at her about getting the bandage wet. The basin bath helped her feel more refreshed, and she was lucky to find a clean hospital gown in the clothes closet. She left the soiled gown in the bathroom to be taken to laundry with the washcloth she'd used, and crawled back onto the bed. 'I can't believe this little effort has worn me out already!' she grumbled irritably. She was tired of being tired, but she soon lost the battle to stay awake and was soon sleeping peacefully.

---

Ally Lowen hadn't slept well overnight, despite the fact that she had to be in court the next morning. She was bothered that the receptionist had failed to give her Tig Trager's message.

'If I hadn't received the call from his wife, I'd never had known about it until after court!' Ally's replayed her last interaction the with the receptionist in her mind. Now she could remember the way the receptionist had leaned over the message diary as if she was hiding something.

'I was too tired from dealing with that client to pay attention to her body language. She was obviously hiding something! Now I know what it was!' The receptionist had been with the firm for a number of years, and this was the first time a message had deliberately gone undelivered to its' intended recipient. Still, the firm couldn't afford to allow such events to occur unrecognized and unpunished.

She wrestled with two scenarios, taking the matter to all the other partners to deal with it or of handling things herself. If the other partners got involved, it was likely they would opt to replace the receptionist. 'While she acted inappropriately, that's harsh for a first offense. Think I'll just handle this myself. I'm the wronged party in this case, so it makes sense for me to handle it.'

She feel asleep feeling like she'd made the best decision to handle the matter. She awoke a few hours later determined to make an impact on the receptionist so such an event would never happen again, regardless of the attitude the caller displayed. Ally planned her attack while she drove into work. She expected the receptionist to pass off Tig's call as being received that morning, instead of the evening before. She intended to have plenty of evidence to the contrary on hand when she confronted the receptionist about it.

She stopped at CPD headquarters, and asked for Officer Eglee, who hadn't yet left on patrol.

"How can I help you, counselor?"

"I understand Tig Trager was brought in yesterday, and was allowed his one phone call," Ally replied. "I was wondering if you could tell me when he made that call."

"I'll have to check the log," Eglee replied. The CPD phones recorded each outgoing call via computer. It saved storage space and enabled officers to find such information quickly, especially if it were needed for trial. "Is there a problem?"

"Oh, just a small discrepancy in the office," Lowen replied airily. "I'm just covering my back side."

Eglee grinned in a conspiratorial manner at the attorney. She sat down at her desk and accessed the program. "Here it is," she read off the time that the call to the law firm had been made from her desk.

"Could I have a print out of that?" Ally requested.

"No problem." Eglee agreed, sending the document to a nearby printer. She took the warm paper from the tray and passed it to the lawyer. "Hope it helps."

Lowen folded the paper and stuffed it in her brief case. "It definitely will!" She smiled back.

She drove on to the law office and parked, but didn't leave her car right away. Instead, she dialed the direct number to Cat Marshall's hospital room.

"Cat here!" The woman's voice was sleep thick in Ally's ear.

"Sorry to wake you, Cat. It's Ally Lowen. I need a favor." The lawyer didn't want her injured client to fear her call was the advent of more trouble for her husband.

"Sure. What can I do for you?" Cat replied sleepily. She held the mouthpiece away from her face to clear her throat. 'I'm glad this isn't a call to tell me Alex is in more trouble.'

"Do you still have Tig's message from last night?"

"Of course!"

'Great!' Ally smiled in anticipation. "Does it have a time stamp?"

"Um, yeah. If I access the message from the beginnin', the date and time are announced. Why do you ask?"

Ally outlined her plan to chastise the receptionist, and the part Cat would play in it. "Will you be able to stay awake that long?"

"I think I can manage it," Cat replied. "I'm glad y'all are gonna do somethin' to nip this kinda thing in the bud."

"It'll be better for her now than what would happen if the entire partnership got involved!" Ally retorted. "Tig might've rubbed her the wrong way, but it's not her job to pick and choose whose messages get forwarded and whose doesn't!"

"Y'all won't get any argument from me!" Cat agreed vehemently. "Don't worry about Tig, though. Dr. Knowles agreed to go to my bank to get the money to bail him out."

Ally closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Good to hear that. Stand by, I'm heading on in." She placed the cell phone in her suit coat pocket. Cat heard the chirp of the car's remote lock, then Ally's footsteps on the concrete pavement. There was a short silence followed by the sound of droning voices and clacking keys.

"Good morning, Ally!" A female voice chirped.

"Good morning. Any messages?" Ally replied.

"A few. I reminded the callers you were going to be in court this morning."

Cat could hear papers shuffling and imagined that Ally was sorting through the messages. "Can you come to my office for a bit? Just forward the calls to your back up. This won't take long. And bring the message log with you."

Ally unlocked the door to her office and stepped inside, followed by the unsuspecting receptionist.

Cat heard the sound of the briefcase making contact with the desk, then Ally invited the woman to have a seat.

"What's up, Ms Lowen?"

"I wanted to ask you about Tig Trager's call," Ally replied quietly. "I see that it's noted as coming in at 8AM this morning."

"Yes. It's right here on the carbon," the receptionist replied, holding out the message call log.

"So I see. He didn't call any earlier?"

"No, ma'am!"

"Are you sure?" Ally asked carefully. She gazed directly into the receptionist's eyes, daring the woman to continue to stand by her story.

"Very sure!" The receptionist stated.

"Well, I'm not so sure of the time line," Ally removed her cell phone from her suit pocket and placed it on the middle of the desk. "Ms. Marshall? Can you play the voice mail we talked about?"

The receptionists face went pale as she heard the time stamp announce the date and time of the call, then heard Tig Trager's voice inform his wife that he was in jail.

'He certainly sounds nicer than he was to me!' she observed angrily.

Ally picked up the cell phone and held it to her ear, disconnecting the speakerphone. "Thanks for the help, Cat. Tell Tig 'hello' for me."

"I'll do that. I suppose your employee is lookin' quite pale at the moment," she replied.

Ally was pleased that there was a hint of laughter in the woman's voice. "Extremely grey," Lowen assured her. "I'll be talking to you later." She turned off her cell phone and laid it on her desk. She sat back in her chair, gazing at her very shamefaced, frightened employee, then opened her briefcase and removed the call log, which she placed on the desk in front of the receptionist.

The woman looked down at the paper and the highlighted lines. Her stomach felt weighted with lead at the words and numbers that proved her claim was a lie.

"What's going to happen now?" The receptionist asked softly.

Ally remained silent for a moment, allowing the receptionist time to appreciate the seriousness of the situation. "If this matter were brought to the attention of the entire firm, it's likely you would be immediately fired."

If it was possible for the receptionist's face to grow any grey, it would have done so. It was obvious the woman felt sick at heart over the matter, and wished she could turn back time. "Then I guess I should clean out my desk," she sighed.

"It would be if this matter was brought to the attention of the entire firm," Ally repeated herself. "Note the use of the key word, 'if'," she added, still using that same quiet voice. She was still angry over what the receptionist had done, but yelling at the woman wouldn't do any good and wasn't worth the fleeting satisfaction Ally would feel.

"Wh - what do you mean?"

"What you did to Mr. Trager is unforgivable. Our clients call under all kinds of stress. They may be upset and frightened. They might cry, or yell. They might be sarcastic in their responses. You have to have compassion for them, be they saint or sinner, outlaw or law abiding citizen, rich or poor. We relied on you to get all our messages to us, not to pick and choose which to hold back for your own satisfaction."

"B - but I only did it this one time!" The receptionist protested.

"That's one time too often," Lowen stated firmly. "We - I - cannot trust you. Be glad you're staying employed, and not losing your pay or benefits." Ally picked up her desk phone and dialed the receptionist's extension. The forwarding sent the call to the receptionist's back up.

"Yes, Ms. Lowen?" The back up inquired.

"I need you to come to my office for a moment, please."

"Yes, ma'am!" While she waited for the back up receptionist to arrive, Lowen outlined what the former receptionist's new duties would be.

"Enter!" She called in response to the knock on her door. The back up receptionist opened the door and slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She didn't react to the sight of her co - worker sitting in front of the lawyer. "You asked to see me, Ms. Lowen?"

"As of today, you will be the receptionist, and will be operating out of the receptionist's desk. That will be your desk from now on. I want you both to make the transition quietly, without fanfare. Do not speak to anyone about it."

"But what if we're asked?" The former receptionist inquired.

"Refer all inquiries to me or the other partners. I will inform them of the change and why it's taking place. No one else needs to know." Ally stared at the new file clerk and added, "You may go now." The former receptionist stood on shaky legs, then fled from the office. Ally wondered if the woman would start crying, but shrugged her shoulders. 'If she does cause a scene out there, then she loses her job. I've given her a chance, if she blows it, she has no one to blame but herself.'

She sighed and rubbed her temples for a moment, then looked up at the new receptionist. "Naturally, your pay will be increased in accordance with your new duties. The only thing you need to know about this is that the partners will not tolerate abuse of our clients' trust. No matter how the client behaves to you, you are not allowed to prevent the lawyers from having immediate access to information our clients provide. Is that clear?"

"Crystal clear, Ms. Lowen."

"Then you may go." The new receptionist slipped out as quietly as she'd entered. Ally sighed again and accessed her corporate email. She had only a few more minutes before she had to leave for the courthouse. Instead of spending those few precious moments preparing for the case, she was faced with having to inform her partners of her action. She typed out a brisk, short memo, outlining what had occurred and how she had dealt with the matter, ending with, "I feel that firing the guilty party would not be in anyone's best interests. This is, sadly, a stain on what has been a stellar career with us. This is why I chose not to include a pay decrease in the punishment. I'm sure you all agree that we cannot allow our clients' trust in us to be abused at the whim of an employee's thin skin." Ally read through the email, then clicked on the 'send' icon.

She sat back, closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the chair. A few minutes later, she turned off her computer, picked up her briefcase, and headed for court.

---

Hale waited in his car for Darby to arrive. He was surprised that the former Nords leader had agreed to meet with him again, after refusing the job the day before. 'Something must've come up to make the job more desirable!' Hale grinned to himself. 'No matter, with Salazar not responding, if Darby's had a change of heart, that's fine with me, as long as the job gets done!'

A dark SUV pulled into the lot, parking as far away from Hale's Mercedes as possible. Hale grinned sardonically, 'It's as if he's ashamed to be seen near me! What a crock! He should consider himself lucky I'm willing to give him a second chance!'

Darby trudged across the dusty lot, opened the door to the Mercedes and slipped inside. "I can't believe we're doing this again!"

"Good morning to you, too!" Hale smiled, hiding his disdain for the drug dealer under a thin veneer of civility. "I guess money talks, and a lack of money talks loud."

"Sometimes," Darby muttered, staring straight ahead. "What makes you think another day is going to make a difference to Lumpy? He's dead set against not selling."

"Then why are you here?"

Darby shrugged. "I suppose to try to talk you out of this. Why throw Lumpy out after all these years, man?"

"Because the partners and I have a vision for this area, and Lumpy's gym doesn't fit that vision."

"You guys can't fork out a coupla bucks for paint or somethin' to make it fit?"

"No. The gym doesn't fit into our plans for this area. Period. Besides, with the money he'd make in selling, he could start over in another, better location," Hale pointed out.

"That's the problem. Lumpy doesn't want to start over. He's done that enough in his life."

"Change happens," Hale shrugged. "Either you roll with it, or get rolled over by it."

"That's bullshit, man!" Darby got out of the car, forgetting that he still held the pay envelope in his hand. He walked a few paces from the Mercedes, then realized what he was still holding. He returned to the car and leaned into the open passenger's side window. He flipped the envelope at Hale, muttering that the property baron needed to find someone else to do his dirty work. "Just leave Lump alone, let him live out his days in peace!'

Hale watched the former gang leader storm back to his SUV. "Like I said, friend, money talks, and a lack of money talks louder to the person willing to listen."

---

Tig watched the vintage black Cutlass glide away from the impound lot while he dug his cell phone out of his back pocket. 'Let her know I'm on the way. Whoever is gettin' the tow truck can - "

He nearly choked on his words as Kozik came into view around the front of the van. Filthy Phil gazed at Tig through the van's driver's side window and shrugged his shoulders in a gesture that meant, "Sorry. Didn't have a choice."

Tig lifted a hand at the prospect, signaling he'd be OK as Kozik trotted across the street towards him. 'I dunno what Piney was thinkin' in sendin' Kozik here!' He slid the burner back into his pocket and glared at the Tacoma SAA, who was grinning from ear to ear.

"Guess Piney couldn't spare Dog or one of the other boys," he growled.

"C'mon, Tiggie! Is that any way to say good mornin'?" Kozik protested.

"Good riddance is more along what I was thinkin'!" Tig snarled, turning towards the entrance to the impound lot. He presented the release form for the tow truck to the guard on duty.

"You know you can't drive this vehicle, Trager," the officer stated.

"No shit," Tig growled, pointing a thumb over his shoulder at Kozik. "Dipshit over there is gonna drive it." T

he officer motioned to Kozik to step forward and slid a piece of paper in front of him. "Sign this, show me your driver's license, and you can be on your way."

Kozik handed over his driver's license while Tig stood by, his arms crossed over his chest. Just as Kozik put pen to paper, the guard called out, "Hold it! This is a Washington state license!"

"Yeah. I live there," Kozik grunted. "It's valid."

"Don't sign that paper yet. I'm going to have to call this in and get the OK for you to take possession of the vehicle."

"But I told ya it's valid!" Kozik protested.

"Mister, you could be Jesus Christ holding onto a stack of Bibles with a crown of thorns on your head, and I'd still have to call for approval!" The officer replied calmly. He picked up the receiver and dialed the number to CPD. "Yeah, let me talk to the Chief," the officer spoke into the mouthpiece. He held Kozik's driver's license in front of his face, eyeballing it as if he expected the picture to change any second.

'Shit! I don't need this delay!' Tig paced in front of the impound office. His mind raced through all the kinds of mayhem and torture he'd like to apply to the officer.

"OK, thanks, Chief," the officer stated, replacing the receiver on the cradle and handing the driver's license back to Kozik. "Boss cleared you, just sign and go get your vehicle."

Kozik signed the document and returned his driver's license to his wallet. He shoved the paper back to the officer and headed towards the tow truck parked a few yards away. Tig started to follow after him, but the officer stopped him. "Oh, no you don't! You wait right here!"

"But I'm with him!" Tig protested, pointing at Kozik, who'd returned to the office when he heard Tig's outraged shout.

"Good for you. Only licensed drivers are allowed inside. Your license is suspended. Chief said you'll be lucky to have it back in two years. You just wait right here and your buddy can pick you up."

Kozik's smile resembled an alligator's as he took in the news about Tig's license. 'Piney said it was suspended, but he didn't say for how long! This is classic!'

"Thanks a lot for broadcastin' that to the world!" Tig spat in disgust as he waved Kozik on about his business. 'That fucktard's gonna hound me nutso about this!' He stormed away from the office to the opposite side of the entrance.

"You're welcome!" The CPD officer grinned. He didn't fear reprisal from the outlaw. The officer was safe in the locked cubicle, where Trager couldn't get to him. He was used to all manner of behavior from people coming to collect their impounded vehicles. Tig's demeanor didn't faze him a bit, though he would certainly be happy to see the last of the outlaw.

While Tig waited for Kozik to bring the tow truck to the entrance, he fished his personal items from the envelope Officer Eglee had given him. He donned his wrist cuffs and attached the wallet chain to a side belt loop before sliding the wallet into his back pocket. He then attached his belt knife to his opposite side and tied the holster to his leg just as the diesel powered truck pulled up next to him. Tig slid his sunglasses over his eyes and climbed into the cab, sitting as far as Kozik as he could.

Kozik grinned sardonically and put the truck into gear, pulling onto the street. "Goin' back to the clubhouse?"

"Nah. Take me to St. Thomas. I wanna check on my girl."

"Don'tcha hafta go back to the clubhouse, make arrangements for someone to cover club business while you're unable to ride?"

"You'd like that, but it's not happenin'!" Tig retorted. "There's not much goin' on where club business is concerned with the guys away. No need for someone else to take over."

"You sure, man? Maybe ya should talk to Piney first, then go visit your old lady," Kozik insisted.

Tig glared at the Tacoma SAA. "Are you deaf? I said I'll go to the compound after I see my wife!"

"OK by me. Your funeral." Kozik shrugged.

"Won't be a problem. If anything needs my attention, Piney knows how to contact me."

"If it makes ya feel any better, she was doin' fine when I checked on her yesterday," Kozik offered.

"Still wanna see for myself. Got a problem with that?"

"Nah," Kozik continued towards the hospital, remaining deep in thought. The knowledge he'd learned about Tig's license was intriguing. If Tig couldn't ride, he couldn't vote, and that meant he couldn't prevent Kozik from patching into SAMCRO again.

Tig lit a cigarette and stared out the passenger side window, trying to figure out how he was going to be able to maintain his status as SAA without riding. "It's gonna be impossible to ride inside Charming. Unser's gonna have his unis watchin' me like a hawk. The minute they see me ridin', they'll arrest me for drivin' while suspended, and that'll just add to the suspension.' He sighed and blew a thin stream of smoke through his nose.'Guess a guy can take classes to clear the damn thing. Problem is, time is not my friend. This is a real piece of shit!' He snorted with frustrated as he drew on the cigarette.

Kozik watched Tig out of the corner of his eye, and smiled again when he heard Tig's snort. He couldn't resist the urge to tease his adversary about having his license suspended, including offering to let the SAA 'bitch ride' with him.

Tig's response came as no surprise to Kozik. Nor was he put off by Tig's fierce determination not to allow him to share a SAMCRO patch. What did surprise him was that Tig still hadn't let go of their shared loss. "Man, it's been eight years since that happened! Doesn't watchin' out for your old lady account for anything?"

"It was just one day, asshole!" Tig growled, glaring over his sunglasses at his former friend. "Not much harm or good you could do to her."

Kozik stared straight ahead, but his knuckles were white from the death grip he maintained on the steering wheel. "Fine, shitheel! I'll take ya to the hospital, but you're on your own gettin' back to the garage!" "I'll manage," Tig retorted confidently.

---

Jacob Hale strode into CPD like he owned it, heading directly to Chief Unser's office. He frowned to find the office was empty. 'Typical! Probably off making sure Gemma Morrow's comfortable!'

"Excuse me, Jacob," Unser tapped the property baron on his shoulder. "May I go into my office?"

Hale turned his head to find the police chief standing behind him, holding a cup of coffee in his hand. "I wish you would. Where the Hell were you?" Hale snapped.

"Getting myself a cup of coffee, though I wasn't aware that supporting you for mayor meant I had to report my every move to you!" Unser retorted. He settled into his chair and placed his coffee cup on the desk. 'I'm really not in the mood for this!'

Hale stormed into the office and sat down in the chair opposite from Unser without being invited. "I'm really disappointed in you Wayne!"

'Seems to be a lot of that going on around here today!' Unser mused inwardly. "So you already found out that I signed Cat Marshall's petition. Good news travels fast."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?" Hale inquired, hiding his surprise at the chief's admission.

"You tell me, since you seem to think you run everything around here, regardless of whether you're sitting in the mayor's office or not," Unser retorted.

"That's not true, Wayne. I'm just trying to look out for Charming!" Hale countered.

"And you think Cat Marshall isn't?"

"Look who she's in bed with!" Hale snorted.

"Man, that's below the belt, even for you!" Unser whistled, taking a sip of his coffee. He was inwardly pleased to have needled the mayoral hopeful. "What's really gotten your drawers in a wad today?"

That was all the opening Hale needed. He poured his displeasure out to the police chief about the botched raid on the clubhouse, the bail hearing being postponed, and Gemma's escape. He added that someone was still helping SAMCRO.

"I'd have thought shaking your hand in front of Piney Winston and the rest of the town would have been enough for you! Jesus Christ! I told you CPD would back you!"

Hale disagreed. Unser had never behaved like a cop where SAMCRO was concerned. Hale wanted SAMCRO beaten down and driven out of town. Nothing short of that would satisfy him.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sounds of discord coming from the back entrance of CPD, which was used to get miscreants into the holding cells as quickly as possible. Unser stepped out of his office to find out the cause of the ruckus.

Two of his male officers were escorting a Hispanic male to the holding cells. The Hispanic was yelling in a combination of Spanish and English that SAMCRO was responsible for the death of his friend. He continued his tirade all the way to the holding cells.

Hale joined Unser in the doorway just as Officer Eglee walked up to her boss. Hale watched with interest as the officers wrestled the male into the cell block. 'That's what should be done with every one of those blasted Sons!'

Officer Eglee lifted an eyebrow at Hale's presence, a non - verbal inquiry whether she should wait to fill Unser in about their dissatisfied customer. Unser nodded at her. It was inevitable that Hale was going to stick his nose in CPD business as Mayor, so they might as well get used to it. Eglee shrugged inwardly and gave Unser a brief outline of the Hispanic's identity and why he was under arrest. "County doesn't want to deal with him," Eglee continued. "Since it happened inside town, he should stay in our facilities until he makes bail."

"So that's Hector Salazar! Now I know why he hasn't returned my calls!' Hale followed Unser back into his office, not surprised that the police chief wasn't interested in following up on Salazar's claim. "You can't ignore that, Wayne! Just because the man leads a club like the Calavarez doesn't make his claim any less valid than any other citizens'!" Hale protested.

"Am I hearing you right? Weren't you just reading the riot act to me for being too soft on SAMCRO?"

"This is different."

"I don't see that it is," Unser retorted. "Small that it may be, the Calavarez MC is still a group of - how did you put it? Oh yeah - a group of felons! Seems to me what's sauce for the goose should be sauce for the gander!"

"You would think that!" Hale snapped. "What I saw out in that hallway was a citizen informing the police department of a crime committed in your jurisdiction by a known group of felons! What do you intend to do about it?"

"Nothing," Unser replied quietly.

"Are you kidding me?" Hale exploded.

"You heard Eglee! Pozo Fuentes died of natural causes. It's all in the autopsy!"

"And you don't find it strange that a healthy young person would die all of a sudden?"

"People die unexpectedly every day, Jacob. You of all people should be aware of that!" Unser shot back. He rubbed his face with one hand, before continuing in a calmer tone of voice, "I'll talk to the Medical Examiner and coroner, just to make sure. It's part of what I do as a cop. But don't be surprised if the trail ends there."

"Why?"

"This Pozo character could've used any and all manner of illegal narcotics before Jax Teller tried to beat him to a pulp that night," Unser explained patiently.

"And your point is?"

"That kind of self medication wouldn't have shown up on any medical history the man had. I wouldn't be surprised that any illegal drug use on his part could've had a nasty interaction with whatever treatments he was receiving at St. Thomas. That could have just as easily led to his demise as anything SAMCRO might've done."

Hale couldn't believe what he was hearing from Unser. The more time he spent in the chief's presence, the more sure he was that they definitely were not operating on the same wavelength, which would not bode well for CPD's future. "Do what you feel you have to do," Hale intoned as he stood up, raking a hand through his hair. "Just don't be surprised if I don't do likewise."

"Is that a threat?" Hale paused in the doorway. Without turning to face Unser, he replied, "Consider it a promise."

---

Miss Anna made it a point to get to Charming Pawse a little earlier than usual in order to her employer's cats and open the cat run for them. She'd received word from Pete the previous day about Miss Cat returning to the hospital following the press event.

"I've been expecting it to happen, Pete," she confided. "She's been burning the candle at both ends since she signed herself out."

"I know," he sighed. "She passed out in the break room while Mr. Tig was in the office on a phone call. I'd gone out to check on her when I saw Mr. Tig trying to wake her. He was really upset and didn't know I was there." He described what he'd seen in full detail, knowing it would never be shared with the rest of the staff. "Thank goodness Miss June was there," he added.

"I'm sure you would've been just as much help if she hadn't," Miss Anna replied. "I'm sorry to admit that it was initially hard to believe that someone as fierce as Mr. Tig could be capable of as much devotion as he shows her."

"Just shows you can't judge a book by its' cover," Pete mused.

"Anyway, I'll get the cats back to the house and close up the run. Miss June said she'll feed 'em tonight."

"When is she leaving?"

"Early in the morning. She said it'd be too early for her to do anything for the cats except give them some toys she's made for them," Pete explained.

"That makes sense," Miss Anna replied. "Their little world has been upset enough as it is without messing up their feeding schedule. I'll just plan on opening up the cat run as soon as I come in, and feed them in their area after the morning rush."

"You don't think that'll upset them more?" Pete worried.

"Can't be helped, Pete. We promised to make sure they're taken care of when she and Mr. Tig can't. And you know Mr. Tig isn't going to be able to care for them!"

"Unless he bonds out. Did CPD or the lawyer call you?"

"No. I take it you've heard nothing."

"Not a word," Pete admitted. "Maybe we should - "

"No!" Miss Anna interjected. "You know how Miss Cat feels about that. It's one thing for us to agree to tending to the felines since they're the 'paws' in 'Charming Pawse'."

"Yeah, but if something's happened to prevent Ms. Lowen from getting Mr. Tig out -"

"I've had the same thought, Pete, but Miss Cat is insistent on keeping the coffeehouse and us as separate as possible from the club. Whether we like it or not, we have to respect her wishes!"

"I guess you're right," Pete reluctantly agreed. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Same here. By the way, we should keep a scrapbook for her of the political coverage. She might appreciate that. God knows she won't have the stamina to do it herself, much less the time."

"Good idea. I'll take care of that tonight."

The cats were waiting at the door to the cat run when Miss Anna opened the sliding door in the garage. They raced through the screened in tube to the door of the coffeehouse, meowing indignantly that the sliding door wasn't already raised for them. "Hold your horses, kitties! I'm coming!"

Boisterous meows informed her they all believed she should've opened the door to the coffeehouse before she'd opened the door from the garage. They jumped over each other's backs and pawed at the door in their eagerness to get inside.

"Were you three that lonely? It's not been that long!" Miss Anna laughingly protested. She raised the sliding door and the three felines scampered inside, heading to a perch right in front of the large window. They groomed their fur, getting themselves presentable for their adoring fans, the customers.

"Spoiled rotten little beggars!" Miss Anna laughed. She watched them for a few moments, then set about preparing the coffeehouse for the morning rush. The last thing she did before unlocking the door was making certain that fresh petitions were inserted in all the clipboards.

---

Alex breathed a sigh of relief to be out of the confining tow truck's cab and away from Kozik's taunts. He'd been tense during the entire ride from the impound lot to the hospital. 'If that ride had lasted any longer, I swear I was gonna tear that fucktard's throat out with my bare hands!' The only thing that had prevented him from doing so was the fact that it would cause a crash.

He stood in front of the entrance to the hospital, watching until the tow truck exited the parking lot. He then turned and strode into the hospital lobby, bypassing the information desk and continuing on to the elevators. The hospital lobby and hallways were a sea of humanity moving from place to place. Doctors, nurses, and other uniformed hospital personnel bypassed the elevators to take the stairs. Civilians dressed in casual and professional attire scurried to various parts of the hospital or waited in the elevator area for a car.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee drifted to him from the kiosk set up in the lobby. 'It's not my woman's brand, but it beats the shit outta what the cafeteria offers!' He walked to the kiosk and stood looking over the pastries in the display case. 'Shit! Nothin' made from Snicker Bars!' he grimaced. He decided to make do with a chocolate chip cookie and a large, black coffee.

"Anything else, sir?" The barista asked while ringing up his order.

Tig grimaced as he heard the barista's jaws snap and crackle a wad of what he hoped was gum. 'Hate to think the gash might be chewin' tobacco!' He frowned in thought, trying to remember his wife's favorite drink. 'Somethin' about white chocolate?' He looked up at the menu displayed on a light board behind the counter, hoping for an insight. He found it listed under the 'lattes'.

"Yeah, a large, no whip, non fat, white chocolate."

"Is that in place of the plain black coffee?" The words were barely audible through her snapping and popping noises.

"No. In addition to," he retorted. "Listen, doll, I'd prefer it if your co - worker gets my cookie outta the case."

"Hey! My hands are clean! Besides, if you have her get your cookie, it'll take that much longer to get your drinks!" The barista held her hands up nearly in front of Tig's nose. A large wad of spittle flew from her mouth to land directly on the counter between them.

"Don't see anyone else around who's gonna complain," he growled, taking a step back from her raised hands and glaring in disgust at the puddle of clear phlegm on the counter. "Now ya know why I don't want ya handlin' my food, doll!"

The other barista hurried to the display case, grabbing a small sheet of waxed pastry paper on the way. "Sorry sir. She's new. That was the chocolate chip cookie, right?"

"Yeah."

The non chewing barista selected the largest cookie from the rack and placed it in a small pastry bag. Only the paper touched the confection, which she left in the bag and handed to the biker.

"Go ahead and take his payment while I make the drinks, and clean up that counter! No one wants to see that stuff when they're ordering food!"

"Jesus Christ, that twerp is such a nag!" The gum chewer complained.

"I wouldn't complain if you'd do what you're supposed to do, instead of acting stupid all the time!" The other girl snorted. She poured coffee into a large cup and placed a lid on it, adding under her breath, "Just because you're the manager's kid doesn't mean you should get away with discourtesy like that!"

The gum chewing barista rolled her eyes and wiped the spit wad from the counter with a handful of napkins. She threw the soiled napkins in the trashcan next to her then held out her hand for payment. Tig winced with disgust and slid over to the opposite end of the kiosk where the other barista was starting on Cat's drink.

"Hey! You gotta pay!" The gum chewer spat around her wad.

"I will," he growled, holding a 20 dollar bill out to her long – suffering co – worker. "Keep the change, darlin'. You deserve it for knowin' how to treat customers."

The barista flushed with gratitude as she took the bill from Tig. "Thank you, sir. And I hope your wife is feeling better! I read all about you two in the paper last night!"

"I'll mention that when I see her in a few minutes," Tig winked at the girl, who flushed again and placed the bill in her apron pocket. She quickly washed her hands then turned back to the espresso machine.

"That drink you're makin' is for her, by the way."

"Then I'll make it just right for her!" The girl replied. Tig leaned against the counter and watched the barista work with the machine. He took a sip of the steaming brew and nodded appreciatively. 'It's not the whiskey blend, but it's fresh and hot.'

"Here you go, sir," the barista passed the second drink to him. "Do you need a carrier?"

"Nah," he patted his jacket where he'd stored his precious cookie. "Got both hands free and my cookie's in my pocket. I'm good." He sauntered away from the kiosk towards the elevator area. 'That one gash is a disaster waitin' to happen! Feel sorry for the other kid. That manager's an asshole for lettin' their kid spoil the business.'

Alex looked at the crowd of civilians waiting for elevator cars and frowned. He didn't relish the idea of standing in a small elevator car with a lot of other people. Not after spending the night in a small cell. He decided to save time by taking the stairs. He bolted through the stairwell door and on up to his woman's floor.

Alex strode down the hall from the stairwell, stopping in front of the closed door to his wife's room. He peeked inside the window, noting that the room was dim except for the light from the television screen. He slipped inside, standing with his back to the door so his head would block most of the hallway light. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim light before walking across the room to the bed. He placed the coffees and his cookie on the bedside table and looked down at her, watching her even breathing. He smiled indulgently as he reached out to run a hand along her covered body.

"It's a good thing I know your touch and scent, love, else y'all might've gotten hurt!" Cat murmured sleepily, a slight smile lighting her face. She pulled her holstered boot knife from under her pillow.

"Sorry, baby. Didn't mean to wake ya," he replied softly, continuing the caresses.

"Y'all wouldn't make a very good hunter, love. Least not in those clunky ole boots!" She smirked.

"Damn, woman! Is that any way to greet your man?" He frowned at the covers that hampered his enjoyment. "And do ya hafta be all covered up?"

"It is when y'all start in with being lecherous, and yes I need the covers! It's cold in here!"

He grinned wickedly and threw the covers off her. "I'll keep ya warm!" He slid onto the bed so she could snuggle up against him. Her eye widened with surprise to feel the jacket - like material under her hands instead of the leather of his cut, his shirt sleeve, and skin. "What's this? Y'all goin' incognito?"

"Sorta. We couldn't wear full rockers cause of the bail. The 'Reaper' is known in Ireland – we have charters in other towns there – these serve to show we're part of the club without givin' our location away," he explained.

"Believe it or not, that actually makes sense," she replied, nestling against his chest. "You do feel a bit warm. No worse for wear despite the ghastly over night stay at CPD."

"Missed havin' ya next to me, baby. Thanks for providin' the bail," he replied, finally rewarding her with a 'hello' kiss. When he released her, his eyebrows furrowed in a menacing frown. "By the way, I told ya not to leave the joint and hear that ya tried to slip out last night!"

Cat didn't even have the grace to look chastised. "You're just mad 'cause y'all missed out on seein' me in restraints!"

"True dat," he growled. "Got to see the picture, but wish I could've been here to see the real deal."

Cat glared knowingly at him, unable to keep her good eye from twinkling. "Y'all have some really bad ideas from that kind of stuff. I can tell!"

"Oh, really?" He growled again, nuzzling her neck. He chuckled against her skin when she squeaked from having his mustache and goatee tickle her throat. His cock was already rock - hard and pressing against her stomach.

She smiled slyly at him and replied, "Y'all are havin' impure thoughts right now!"

"I'll show ya impure thoughts, woman!" He growled, his hand traveling down to the hem of her gown. Before he could move the gown up, a discreet cough sounded from the doorway as the overhead light flashed on.

"Ah, shit!" Alex moaned. "Somebody's got some fuckin' rotten timing!"

"Sorry to disturb you two, but I'm here to take the lady to the eye clinic," an orderly announced. He'd piloted a wheelchair into the room while the couple had been otherwise engaged.

"A reprieve from ravishment!" Cat snickered. "Y'all have good timin', love. Guess Dr. Smythe's finally gonna look at this eye!"

"Still pretty shitty timin'!" Alex grumbled, sliding off the bed to stand next to it. He kept his back to the orderly and frowned at his wife, who was smirking at his obvious problem. "Not a word, woman!"

"Of course not!" She snickered, putting her uninjured hand in his and sliding off the bed onto the floor. She put her glasses on and spied the two coffee cups on the bedside table. "I always knew y'all were a two – fisted drinker!"

"One of those is yours, baby. I remembered that drink you love and stopped at that coffee stand in the lobby," he explained, handing the warm cup to her. He stuffed the cookie bag in his inner jacket pocket.

"Bless you, love!" She took a long, appreciative sniff of the aroma coming from the top of the cup through the drinking slot. "White chocolate! Yum!"

"Non fat and no whip, too," he tapped the side of his head with his forefinger.

"Y'all did good, love. How's your cuppa?" He shrugged. "It's passable. Your whiskey blend has spoiled me."

"What in the Hell did y'all do for coffee before I came up with the whiskey blend?"

"Put up with shit from the garage and the gas stations, even before ya ever came to Charming," he replied.

"Remind me to thank y'all properly for this bit of Nirvana later!"

"Absolutely!"

"I hate to break up this mutual admiration society, but Dr. Smythe will have my head on a platter if I don't get you to the clinic post haste," the orderly stated.

"Y'all heard the man, love. Time to roll," she limped to the waiting wheelchair, clutching the coffee in her good hand. She surrendered it to Alex only long enough to get situated in the chair, then accepted it back from him. "OK, darlin'," she grinned at the orderly. "I'm ready to go."

"Oh no you aren't!" Alex snarled, shoving his cup into her other hand and moving to stand in the orderly's way so he couldn't grasp the handles. The two men stood toe to toe for a moment. Alex's eyes flashed a dare for the orderly to try to move him out of the way.

Cat snorted in mock disgust at her man's display of alpha male attitude. She smiled apologetically at the orderly, who gave her an answering smile to indicate his feelings weren't hurt. "Be my guest," he stepped back from the wheelchair, inclining his head slightly at Alex.

"I intend to," Alex growled.

"After you, then," the orderly held the door open so Alex could pilot the wheelchair into the hallway.

"Y'know, all that metaphorical chest beatin' was really unnecessary. I am capable of walkin'!" Cat remarked.

Alex bent over so that his lips were next to her ear. "You still limp; this'll be easier on ya, so shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride!"

Cat rolled her eyes. "I was gonna have y'all remind me to thank you properly for the coffee. Now I'm beginnin' to change my mind about that!"

"Don't worry, woman! You'll be thankin' me a'right, soon as we're alone!" He laughed.

"Y'all are insatiable!" She took another long drink from her coffee and relaxed her head against Alex's stomach, using him for a comfy pillow. Alex didn't mind her gesture, though it resulted in the inevitable physical reaction her proximity always caused. The wheel chair prevented any passers – by from witnessing his desire, though Cat could feel it pressing into her back.

Alex didn't worry about the elevator trip this time. Having his woman with him managed to keep his temporary claustrophobia at bay. The presence of the orderly prevented him from taking advantage of an opportunity to molest her, so he settled for drinking the remainder of his coffee.

Some of the civilians gawked at the couple as they passed through the corridors. After a few such occurrences, Alex started growling curses from the back of his throat.

"Relax, love. I've been gettin' a lot of that myself in here from some of the staff. It was inevitable once we decided to 'come out'," she informed him.

"Like who?" He growled, ready to do battle on her behalf.

"Doesn't matter love. They don't mean disrespect by it; they're just tryin' to wrap their heads around the idea that y'all would settle down!"

"That's bullshit!"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Y'all can't go around fightin' with everyone who looks crossed eyed at us. That's bullshit. The novelty will die down soon enough, and the townspeople will find something else to entertain them."

"Hell, our marriage shouldn't be that much of a surprise to 'em!" He grumbled. "Lots of people get married every day and no one pays it any attention!"

"Lots of people aren't as infamous as y'all, my love," Cat snickered.

"You're just as infamous, baby!" He snorted as he pushed the chair into the eye clinic waiting room. "Do we sign in or anything?" He asked the orderly.

"Just wait over there," the orderly pointed to a secluded corner near the door leading into the exam rooms. "I'll tell 'em she's here."

Alex pushed the wheelchair to the indicated corner and set the brakes. He appreciated that the orderly had sent them to a strategic corner. He would have his back to the wall and full view of the lobby entrance and the door to the exam rooms. He settled in one of the chairs and relaxed, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaving Cat perched in the wheelchair.

"Thanks!" She snorted in exasperation. She used her feet to slide the foot rests out of the way and stood up.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Hey! Whatcha tryin' to do there?"

"I'm tryin' to sit next to my husband!" She exclaimed. "Y'all got a problem with that?"

"Nah. Just don't hurt yourself," he drawled, pointing to his crossed legs that were directly in her path.

She stepped over his legs, settling into the chair next to his while keeping the hospital issued gown from riding up and giving him – and everyone else in the area – a free show.

"Ya cold, baby?" He inquired, noticing that she was shivering. "A little. Didn't find a robe in the room," she explained.

The orderly came up to report that the receptionist was aware of their presence. "Thanks, bro. Any chance you could rustle up a robe for my lady? She's cold."

"Sure. Laundry's not far away. I'll be right back!" The orderly hurried from the eye clinic.

"That's probably the last we're gonna see of him!" Cat observed wryly.

"And ya call me a pessimist!" He chuckled.

"Emphasis on the pest," she muttered darkly. "

What was that, woman?" He growled menacingly.

"Nothin', love. I'm just gonna enjoy the last of my coffee and see if it'll warm me up," she grinned. "It's really not bad for a small kiosk."

"Maybe, but they didn't have anything made from Snicker Bars!"

"Awwww! Poor abused baby!" Cat smirked. "Y'all had to make do with a substitute!"

Alex leapt to his feet to tower over her. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared menacingly down at her. "You're gonna pay for that, woman!"

"Is that a threat or a promise?" He swiftly bent at the waist, placing his hands on either side, resting on the arm rests and effectively trapping her in the chair. "With me, woman, it's always a promise!" He growled, before engaging her in a very possessive kiss.

---

The interior of Jacob Hale's Mercedes - Benz was as silent as a church, and more impervious to outside interference. He preferred conducting his more nefarious business conversations in the car instead of his office. He dialed the telephone number for Hector Salazar and waited for the woman to answer.

"I told you I'd have Hector call as soon as possible!" The woman spat into his ear.

"That's going to be hard for him to do from jail," Hale replied calmly. A grim smile played over his face as he anticipated the woman's reaction.

"Which jail? There's a few in this county!"

"Charming PD. Are you familiar with it?"

"Not intentionally," she replied dryly. "I know where it is, if that's what you're asking." The woman's voice had a Hispanic quality to it, but not the same type he'd heard from Salazar. This woman was a little more educated than the biker.

'No surprise there. Most of the women associated with these outlaws always have some form of education, which doesn't explain their attraction for these felons!' He shook his head with disdain. "Obviously you know where to find him, then. What's your name anyway?"

"Who wants to know?" She shot back.

"You're good. I like that," Hale replied. "You don't need to know my name."

"Then I could say the same to you, esse," she retorted. "Makes it better to easier to maintain a business - like relationship, yes?"

"Yes, I suppose it does." Hale admitted. "I want you to call CPD, find out how much Hector's bail is."

"Why would I do that?" She countered darkly.

"Because once you find out how much it is, I'll make the money available to you."

"And you would do that for Hector because?"

"Because I need him to do a job for me, and he can't do it from a jail cell," Hale explained patiently.

Salazar's woman remained silent as she considered Hale's offer. There was no way she could pay Hector's bail herself. With his ties to the MC cut by Alvarez, their cash flow was virtually non existent. She'd be a fool not to accept, and if the caller had lucrative work for Hector, she'd be doubly foolish to allow the opportunity go by. "You have a deal. How do I reach you?" She'd noticed that every time he'd called, the telephone number he was using showed 'CA call' and was blocked from automatic callback.

"I'll call you. Five minutes should be all the time you need to find out the necessary amount," Hale informed her. "Once you have that, we'll arrange a drop for the money."

---

A discreet cough sounded from the door leading from the exam rooms to the waiting area. Alex broke away from Cat with another muttered oath about poor timing.

She snickered and stood up to walk into the exam area. The orderly rushed into the exam room with a robe for her. She profusely thanked him and slid into it, wrapping the robe around her. "That's a lot better!" She sighed.

"Are ya sure ya wanna walk, baby?" Alex asked with concern.

"Yeah. I really need to," she assured him, limping towards the door.

"You can wait out here, sir," the nurse stated to Alex as he approached the door.

"You can leave the wheelchair out here," the orderly added. "No one will take off with it while you're sitting there."

Alex flashed a sardonic grin at the two. "Sorry to break your bubble, but where she goes, I go!"

"Suit yourself," the nurse shrugged, turning to lead them down the hall to an exam room. The room was set up like any other eye doctor's office. A large, padded reclining chair was surrounded by equipment. A desk containing different lenses, bottles of liquid, and other instruments sat against a wall. The interior was very dimly lit.

Cat found that soothing to her good eye after the enduring the brighter light in the corridors and waiting room.

"Please have a seat, ma'am. Dr. Smythe will be with you momentarily," the nurse instructed. She pointed to a chair in a far corner behind and to one side of the exam chair. "You may sit there, sir."

Alex frowned at the nurse, then shrugged and settled into the chair she'd indicated. He felt some comfort that his back was against the wall and he could watch the door. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled in to wait.

The nurse set to work preparing for the exam. She set a covered tray on a counter across from the desk and left the room for a moment, returning with a basin, which she set next to the covered tray. "How are you feeling, Ms. Mar - er - Mrs. Trager?"

Alex grinned. He couldn't get enough of hearing his last name used in connection with her. 'Don't think I could ever tire of it!'

"Like I was hit by a truck a few days ago," Cat replied. "Sore, tired, all that kind of thing."

"Any pain from your eye?" "None that I recognize. My head hurts after too much racketin' around, but otherwise I seem to be recoverin'."

"That's good to hear, ma'am," Dr. Smythe intoned as he entered the exam room. He stopped next to the chair, bravely turning his back on Alex. He placed a cool hand on her chin to move her head one direction and then the next, examining the healing bruises.

"Thought ya were gonna look at her eye!" Alex protested.

"I will in a moment, Mr. Trager. I want to make sure her other facial and cranial injuries are healing as well. Those could have an effect on her eyesight." Dr. Smythe retorted.

Alex shrugged and settled back in his seat. The nurse had uncovered the tray. Alex glanced dubiously at the array of items and instruments, including an eye patch. "Is she gonna need to wear that patch?" Alex inquired tightly when he saw the eye patch.

"Time will tell, Mr. Trager. Foreign objects can do any manner of damage to the eye. We had to go in through the lower eyelid to safely extract the glass sliver. If we're lucky, there'll be no long term damage to her sight."

"And the worst would be no sight at all," Cat observed quietly. "At least in that eye."

Alex winced at that idea. He'd not allowed himself to consider that possibility before. Now it was staring him right in the face. 'Bet she won't let that keep her down long, and how the Hell am I gonna keep her from ridin' her bike with only one good eye?'

"That's true, unfortunately," Dr. Smythe admitted. "Your medical history indicates you had a number of cataract surgeries in your childhood."

"On each eye and also for an eye muscle weakness," she acknowledged.

"I want you to close both eyes. Do not open either until I say so."

Cat immediately complied, causing Alex to remark, "Damn! Wish she'd obey that well for me!"

"You get an MD after your name, love, and I just might!" She retorted.

"If you'll please sit still and remain silent, it would be a big help!" Dr. Smythe remarked.

Alex snorted with suppressed laughter. He could tell that Cat really wanted to say something appropriately scathing to both of them. 'Man, I wouldn't have missed this for the world!'

Dr. Smythe plunged his hands into the rubber gloves the nurse held open for him. "Keep your eyes closed, now," he reminded her while he carefully removed the bandage.

The nurse stepped up with a cloth she'd removed from the basin. The excess moisture had been wrung out of it. She carefully dabbed the wet cloth on Cat's eye. "This is in case any crust has formed on the eyelashes," she explained to the couple.

"That's good. She had a Hell of a nasty mess on her good eye the night she was injured," Alex offered. "I did the same thing for her that night 'cause she had one of those 'female behaviors' she hates to admit to."

"I did not!" She objected. "That was just concern on my part."

Before Alex could reply, Dr. Smythe hurriedly announced, "You'll likely notice light against your eyelids," Dr. Smythe instructed. "I know you're light sensitive, and you may want to squint. Try not to do that if you can help it."

Cat was surprised by the calm and soothing manner the doctor was using to speak to her. All of her previous interactions with him had left her with the impression of that he was a high maintenance prima donna. 'Guess he's a whole 'nother person when he's in full healer mode!' She observed to herself. She managed to keep from squinting when the light hit her eyelids, but it was difficult. She was encouraged that she could discern the light through both eyelids.

"Looks clean. No sign of infection or leakage from the incision," Dr. Smythe murmured.

Alex let out a sigh of relief, realizing that he'd been holding his breath. 'But we're not outta the woods yet!

---

Kozik pulled into the lot for Teller Morrow and the clubhouse, parking the tow truck in its' usual spot. He tried not to look at the line of Harleys parked across the lot, waiting for their owners. The clubhouse seemed desolate, though the prospects - along with the usual number of hangarounds and Croweaters - were present. He climbed out of the tow truck and trudged to the garage office, hoping to find Piney waiting. Instead, the digitally challenged civilian, Chuckie, was working feverishly to maintain order in the chaos that was Gemma's desk.

"Piney anywhere around?" Kozik huffed.

"In the clubhouse, talking to the prospects," Chuckie replied. "Where's Tig?"

"St. Thomas. He wanted to see his wife."

"How's he gonna get here from there?"

"Not my problem," Kozik replied shortly, turning to head towards the clubhouse.

"I don't accept that!" Chuckie growled to the Tacoma SAA's back. "Tig can't drive himself, and he shouldn't have to walk or take a cab!" He looked down at his own hands, wishing for the first time that he had all his fingers. "There's no way I can drive, and I can't interrupt club business to consult Piney!" He sat in thought, trying to determine the best way to help his friend.

He'd only had two friends in his adult life, Otto had looked out for him at Stockton, but Tig had saved him from certain death at Lin's hands. That made him Chuckle's best friend, and he'd do anything he could to help him. 'Where else can I go to get help for Tig?' he mused, thrusting his hands in his pockets out of habit. One of his fingers made contact with a card he kept there. He pulled it out and examined it. 'Of course! How could I forget!' He was technically still employed by Charming Pawse, though he'd only worked one full day there before it became necessary for him to work full time at the compound. Cat had never removed him from her payroll.

"Anytime you need anything and I'm not able to help, you can contact either Pete or Miss Anna. They'll be more than happy to help you, Chuckie." 'I hope you're right about them, Miss Cat,' Chuckie thought, picking up the receiver to the desk phone to poke out the telephone number to the coffeehouse.

"Charming Pawse, this is Miss Anna."

"Hi Miss Anna. This is Chuckie Marstein. I'm not sure you remember me -"

"Sure I do! You were going to take over the administrative duties while Ms. Cat was in the hospital!" Miss Anna replied warmly.

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry about the way things have turned out," he replied contritely. 'This was a big mistake!'

"Don't be. You're working where you're most needed, Chuckie. But I don't think you've called about your change in work environments. What's on your mind?"

The assistant manager's warm demeanor lifted his spirits. It gave him the courage to explain the reason for his call. "This guy that's hoping to transfer from Tacoma just left Tig high and dry at the hospital with no way here," he added.

"Wow! Mr. Tig's not going to know what to do without being able to ride! That's as much a part of him as Miss Cat!" She exclaimed sympathetically. "Are you at Teller Morrow now?"

"Yes ma'am!" He smiled at Miss Anna's apt description of Tig. He couldn't imagine his friend without his bike or his woman.

"Tell you what. Let me call Pete, my co - hort. He should be awake by now. I'll see if he can run by the hospital and give Mr. Tig a ride."

"I hate to interfere with his time off," Chuckie replied dubiously, though he felt warm inside at the woman's willingness to help her employer's husband. 'I'm still havin' trouble acceptin' that!'

"Don't worry about it, Chuckie," Miss Anna assured him. "We consider Mr. Tig family, and it's what one does for family."

"I accept that! Thanks, Miss Anna."

"Anytime, Chuckie." Miss Anna disconnected the line to clear it, then dialed Pete's number.

"Yello!"

"Hey, Pete. Miss Anna here. I just heard from Chuckie; Mr. Tig needs our help."

"No worries. I planned to go to the hospital before work to see Miss Cat, this'll take care of two birds with one stone," he assured her.

"I told Chuckie you wouldn't mind, but he was worried."

"I'll talk to him when I take Mr. Tig to the garage," Pete replied. "You won't mind if I run a little late? Knowin' Mr. Tig, he'll stay at the hospital as long as he can."

"No problem. See you later."

Chuckie replaced the receiver with a sigh of relief. He'd been so intent on his phone conversation that he hadn't noticed Tara standing in the doorway watching him. "Any problems?"

Chuckie smiled at her. "None now!"

"I saw the tow truck out front. Is Tig here?"

Chuckie shook his head. "That was the immediate problem. Kozik left him at the hospital. He wanted to see Miss Cat. Don't worry," he added when Tara started towards the door. "I've arranged a ride for him."

Tara's eyebrows swept up in an inquiring manner. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Chuckie nodded. "Miss Cat's employees will get him here."

"I understand Dr. Smythe was going to examine her eye injury," Tara replied.

"I hope things work out on that."

"So do I," Tara sighed. "Meantime, let's get to work on this stuff." She set her purse down on the sofa.

"I accept that."

---

Luisa waited nervously in the reception area of CPD for Hector to be released. She'd posted the bail just a few minutes earlier. The mysterious gringo had kept his word by making the entire bail amount available. She'd expected him to protest the abnormally high amount, but he'd made no negative comment about it. He'd simply informed her to go to a particular check cashing store in an hour to pick up the money.

"As a gesture of good faith, I'm going to need to know your name so the money can be turned over to you. I'd rather not use a nickname or some other such shit." The man had told her.

"Rosalita," she stated, giving her aunt's name instead of her own. 'I'd rather be safe than sorry. I don't trust him enough to give him my real name.' She had a fake ID with her aunt's name on her. She always carried it in case she needed it.

The ID passed muster with the check cashing clerk, as she gave her fake name, presented the ID, and came away with the cash for Hector's bail. She'd watched to see if anyone was tailing her as she drove to CPD. Hector had taught her well, but she saw nothing that alarmed her or indicated she was being followed.

Luisa tried to act casual as she presented the bail money for Hector's release and presented her fake ID again. She signed her aunt's name to the bail release form, then waited tensely for Hector to appear.

Her heart jumped when she saw Hector being led from the holding area by a burly CPD officer. He frowned intently at her, his expression demanding answers. She gave her head a brief shake, indicating that they'd talk later, once it was safe.

"Sobrino! I'm so happy to see you" She cried, rushing to embrace him in a familial manner. "Play along while we're in here!" She hissed in his ear.

"Gracias for bailing me out, Tia!" Salazar replied, giving her a brief hug. "It's going to take a few moments for them to get my personal things."

"That's OK, sobrino. We have time."

Officer Eglee brought his envelope of possessions to him. Hector signed for it and took it with him, grasping Luisa by the elbow and accompanying out the door. They walked to her red Camaro. Hector climbed into the passenger side, Luisa settled behind the steering wheel.

"Wait until we're away from this cursed place to talk, Hector!" She instructed. She started the car and drove sedately from the CPD lot. They traveled in silence until she reached the Latte Da coffeehouse and parked near it. "Come on. We can get something to eat and drink to go, and then we can talk. You must be starved!"

"I could do with food," Hector replied, reaching out to embrace his woman at long last. "First things first." He kissed her deeply. He'd missed her presence during the night and needed to gorge his emptiness with the taste of her.

She responded in kind, barely able to control the flood of desire that welled inside her. "If we keep this up, they'll arrest us for public indecency!" She whispered in his ear. "Come. Let's get this done, then we can go back to Tia's house and talk."

"Among other things," Hector grinned wickedly.

"You have a one track mind, lover!"

---

The nurse closed the door while Dr. Smythe examined the outside of Cat's eye. She stood next to the door, waiting for him to tell her to turn the light off.

"I'm going to turn off all the lights in the room. When I say to do so, you can open your eyes. The room will be completely dark, so don't be 'concerned'," the doctor informed her. "We'll gradually introduce more light into the room."

Cat took a deep, steadying breath. 'It's now or never!' She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder. Alex had quietly stood up and moved to stand behind the chair. He wanted to be as physically close as possible to give her comfort and support. She was grateful for Alex's hand on her shoulder. She drew comfort from his touch and reached up to put her hand over his.

"I'm right here, baby," Alex crooned reassuringly.

"I know," she replied. Her voice shook from nervousness.

It was barely discernible to the doctor and nurse, but it was obvious to Alex. 'Damn! She puttin' up a brave front and that fucktard can't 'see' it!' He slightly tightened his grip. "It'll be a'right, baby. You'll see - no pun intended." He could still feel her tremble.

Dr. Smythe nodded and the nurse turned off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Just a small sliver of light filtered under the closed door. It was just enough for Alex to make out the shadows of his wife's body, along with the doctor and nurse. The room was completely quiet for a moment. No one moved or spoke, and barely breathed.

"All right, slowly open your eyes," Dr. Smythe instructed. The room remained silent. Alex could hear the sound of his heart beating. He could hear his own and Cat's breathing. He felt her trembling under his hand. 'I've got a bad feelin' about this!' He squeezed her shoulder again, hoping that he was wrong.

Cat sat stiff as a board in the oversized chair. She took several deep breaths, trying to find the nerve to obey the doctor's instructions. Her injured hand closed in a tight fist, while her other hand lay quietly on top of Alex's. She slowly opened her eye.

Her continued silence was getting on Alex's nerves. "Baby? Say somethin' would ya?" He pleaded.

"Christ, Alex! It's open!"

"And?" He prodded after she remained silent. His hand tightened on her shoulder.

"It's frackin' dark as pitch!" Alex's heart sank. His lowered to rest on their hands. "I'm sorry baby!"

"No reason to be sorry, love. Such is to be expected 'cause it's dark in here!" she continued airily.

"God damn you, woman! That wasn't funny!" He growled. "I oughta spank the tar outta ya!"

Though Dr. Smythe and the nurse had prepared themselves for the worst, they'd both grown tense from her announcement.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with your husband. There was nothing amusing or helpful about your comment."

"Spoilsports," she muttered rebelliously. "I was tryin' to work up the courage to open that eye." she added apologetically.

"Dammit, I think ya just scared 10 years' life outta me, woman!" Alex grumbled, though his heart raced from joy to know that she could see after all.

"If it makes any difference, I see that strip of light under the door. I can also discern darker shadows that are probably you and the nurse, as well as your hand over my good eye, doc."

"That does help, madam. I wanted to make sure that you wouldn't cheat," the doctor replied. He took the penlight from his pocket and pointed it toward the floor. "What do you see now?"

"I can see the light you're pointin' at the floor," she reported. "You're wearing a white coat and dark slacks. The nurse is wearin' a blue uniform."

Alex felt like he might cry with relief.

Dr. Smythe wasn't satisfied. He held up his free hand and asked her to tell hin how many fingers he was holding up.

"Two," she replied with a saucy grin. "And a thumb."

Dr. Smythe sighed in resignation. "You didn't have to take me so literally, young woman!" He turned to the nurse and ordered her to turn on the lights in front of the eye chart. The room became as dim as it had been when they'd first set foot inside.

Cat reported that she could see the wall and described the color of pens sticking out of his pocket, along with a discernible bulge in his lab coat pocket.

"That's my cell phone," he informed her. He was feeling pleased. He went to the desk and tapped a control. The eye chart across the room blazed into life. The letter 'E' stood out boldly at the top of the chart.

"Mr. Trager, would you please take your seat? I'd rather you not be close enough to whisper the letters to her," Dr. Smythe requested.

"Why, doc! I'm crushed that you'd think I'd consider doin' such a thing!" Alex grinned.

"No, y'all would just do it!" Cat retorted.

"Do you two mind? I really don't have all day!" Dr. Smythe grumbled.

Cat turned her attention back to the doctor. "Sorry, Dr. Smythe. I'm all attention."

Alex hid a grin behind his hand. 'She's always at her most dangerous when she uses that line! Old boy better be careful tryin' to match wits my girl!'

Oblivious to the danger lurking behind her comment, the eye surgeon asked if she felt any discomfort. "It's OK. Not waterin' or painful. And that's a large 'E' on the chart on the wall."

"Very good." He turned a dial which caused the chart to scroll a few lines. "Now, let's see how well you can read," he handed a small plastic paddle for her to put over her good eye and handed her glasses to her.

Alex could see the letters clearly, but worried how well she would do. He stared at the back of her head, staring at the letters on the wall. He wished he possessed some type of mental power that would put the letters in her brain.

Cat complied with the doctor's instructions and placed the paddle over the lens on her good eye. She stared straight at the eye chart, then slowly read the line of letters.

Alex winced when she didn't correctly recognize 'c', 'o', and 'a'. I can see 'em perfectly from here!'

Dr. Smythe didn't appear concerned by her error. He had her switch eyes and Cat got all the letters right.

"Those letters are so similar!" She groused. "I always mess 'em up."

"The injured eye is the one that had the muscle weakness," the eye doctor replied. "Your previous tests show the same result."

"That's good, ain't it?" Alex inquired.

"It's encouraging, Mr. Trager." The doctor noticed that Cat was squinting from the light given off by the eye chart. "It looks like your light sensitivity has increased."

"That means it's worse," Alex stated.

"I'm afraid so, love," Cat supplied.

"I don't think we need the eye patch, but I'm going to have you use a tinted insert between your eyes and the glasses," Dr. Smythe added. He opened a drawer in the desk, removed an envelope, and opened it. He took out something that looked like sunglasses without temples.

"This is a light defusing insert. It's darker than most sunglasses, and will enable you to withstand the corridor and room lighting comfortably," he explained. "It just slides behind your lenses and is supported by your nose and the frames." He demonstrated how the plastic piece worked.

Cat breathed a sigh from the relief the small plastic item delivered. "That's a lot better. Will I have to use something like this forever?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Trager. I need to run a prescription test, and we'll have a better idea. It might only be a temporary problem."

'And then again it might not,' she thought wryly.

"Does that mean you're done torturin' her for the day?" Alex inquired. "

Yes, Mr. Trager. I'm done 'torturing' your wife for the day," Dr. Smythe replied sardonically. "We'll do the lens prescription tomorrow. I'm going to call in orders to the duty nurse to give you a pain pill so you'll rest a while."

"I'm fine, doc!" Cat protested.

"I beg to differ, Mrs. Trager. Your skin has grown pale and your lips are compressed. That tells me you're experiencing some discomfort. I also heard you tell the nurse you get headaches from - how'd you put it? - racketing around too much."

"Don't argue with the man, baby. He knows his shit," Alex added. "You'll take the pill if I hafta force it down your throat!"

Dr. Smythe suppressed a smile long enough to turn to the nurse. "Would you take Mr. Trager out to retrieve the wheelchair for his wife?"

The nurse nodded, knowing that the doctor wanted to talk to the patient in private. She held out her hand to Alex, indicating he should precede her through the door.

"Behave yourself, baby! I won't be long," he warned before crossing the threshold.

---

Luisa and Hector purchased their meal from Latte Da, which Hector preferred over the other, more popular coffee shop in town.

"Glad you didn't chose that one," he murmured while they waited for their order. "

I knew you'd be uncomfortable there; it is too well tied to SAMCRO for our taste!" Luisa whispered.

"Si, chula."

After paying for their order, they returned to the car and cruised to a small park where they could eat and talk in relative privacy.

"Chula, where did you get the money to bail me out?" Hector inquired the moment they were seated.

"It wasn't 'how', it was 'who'," she replied, informing him of the cryptic message that she'd received the previous day that had been followed by a series of calls from the same number. "At least I believe it was the same number, it was blocked from auto redial and came up 'CA Call'," she added. "I finally got to talk to the gringo and worked everything out for your release."

"Why would some rich white man be concerned about getting me out of jail?" Hector asked. He didn't feel comfortable with the report his woman had given him so far. It didn't make sense to him.

"The rich man has a job for you. It sounds like it could be worth a lot to us," Luisa explained.

"Did he say what the job is?"

"No. He wants to meet with you later today, in the parking lot behind that boxing school on Liberty Street this afternoon." Luisa leaned forward, her eyes bright with excitement. "It must mean very big money, Hector! Why else would this guy be so eager to get you out?"

"That's what I'd like to know," Hector shook his head. Something was not quite right about the whole thing. "And you already agreed to this."

"To an extent. This gringo is smart. He stays behind the scenes, doesn't give his name or betray anything personal about himself. I suspect he has money comin' outta his asshole. Money we can use to start over!"

Luisa hated not having a home. At present, they were holing up in her aunt's foreclosed home. There was no running water or electricity, but it was shelter. They'd lost their home in the country, which had also served as the Calavarez club hang out, after Marcus Alvarez had stripped Salazar of his membership. Alvarez had given them an hour to get their personal possessions and clothes from the house.

"I hope you remembered all that I taught you," Hector murmured. He still felt uneasy about the whole thing. No white man would bail a felon like him out of jail unless he had a good reason. Salazar was no one's puppet, no matter how good the money.

"I used the fake ID to pick up the cash, and no one followed me," she reported triumphantly. "Nor did I tell him my name whenever I talked to him."

Salazar nodded while he drank his coffee and thought about his current situation. The most important thing was that he was out of jail. There was nothing the gringo could do to change that until or unless Salazar was arrested again. He could take off without following up with his benefactor and there was nothing the mysterious man could do about it!

"Think of it, Hector!" Luisa exclaimed excitedly. "This guy talks like money, and the more we can get, the easier it'll be for us to blend in with the 'respectable' citizens!"

"Maybe I don't want to be respectable!" He hissed. He missed his club and his brothers. Renewed anger over his being stripped of his Prez patch and losing his club welled up inside like molten lava from a volcano.

Luisa waited patiently for Hector's anger to subside. She was used to her man's mood swings. None of his anger was ever taken out on her, for which she was grateful. She'd heard stories of men with tempers equal to or lesser than Hector's take out their anger their women. 'Hector will think this through as he always does.'

"OK," he agreed after several long silent minutes. "We'll meet with the gringo, see what he has to offer. If I like it, I'll do it. If I don't, we'll beat him to a pulp, and take his money for our trouble!"

Luisa's eyes glinted with fierce glee. "Then we'll go after that bitch VP's old lady!"

"Damn straight!" Hector assured her. "This is gonna be a great day, chula!"

---

"What's got y'all worried, doc?" Cat inquired the minute the door closed.

Dr. Smythe didn't immediately reply to her inquiry. He picked up the receiver to the office phone and dialed a number. "Dr. Gallagher, would you come to the eye clinic for a consult?" There was a pause, then the eye doctor continued, "Yes. She's here now. Everything looks good so far. But I have a concern and would like your input."

"Why are you askin' Dr. Gallagher for a consult? What aren't y'all tellin' me?" Cat inquired a little more forcefully.

"I'm going to take a look in your eyes, and didn't want to upset your husband with it," the doctor explained. He sat on a high rolling stool and positioned an examining device in front of her.

"I'm familiar with the test, doc, but that doesn't explain why you're bringin' in Dr. Gallagher. If y'all don't want me yellin' for Tig to come in here, y'all better answer my question!"

Cat didn't like the machine Dr. Smythe intended to use. It allowed the doctor to see through the pupil for any signs of eye disease through the use of a very bright light.

"I'm concerned about those headaches, Mrs. Trager," Dr. Smythe explained, placing the machine in front of her. "It might just be from the concussion, but we don't want to take any unnecessary chances."

Cat nodded in response, though she grinned wryly. "Admit it, doc. Y'all just really want me to take that pill!" She positioned her body against the pads for her head and chin.

"I know this is going to be very difficult for you to endure, Mrs. Trager. I apologize. It's necessary."

"I know," she murmured against the chin rest. "Let's just get it done."

Alex retrieved the wheelchair from the waiting room. Despite his absence, it hadn't been touched. He guided it to the door and nearly ran over the nurse. "You need to wait out here a moment, Mr. Trager," she advised quietly.

"Why?"

"Dr. Smythe needed to run another test. It involves strong light, and he didn't want you to be upset," the nurse explained.

"Oh, that test! She'll really need that pain pill after that!" The nurse nodded.

Behind her, Dr. Gallagher walked into the waiting room, stopping next to Tig. "Doc? What are you doin' here?"

Dr. Gallagher and the nurse exchanged glances, then she turned and hurried down the corridor towards another exam room.

"Doc?" Tig glared at Cat's other physician. "What the Hell is goin' on?"

Dr. Gallagher was used to dealing with family members and their associated emotions. One look at the cold menace in Tig's eyes made him extremely nervous. "Relax, Mr. Trager. Dr. Smythe called me in to consult about the headaches your wife's been complaining about. You'll recall she did incur a concussion from the wreck."

"Yeah, so?" Chibs had complained about headaches for awhile after he'd been from Zobelle's planted bomb months ago, and he was fine. "What aren't you tellin' me?"

The door to the exam room opened and Dr. Smythe appeared in the doorway. "If you'll step inside, Mr. Trager, we'll both tell you."

Alex looked at Dr. Gallagher, then at the eye doctor. He left the wheelchair in the hall and hurried into the exam room. Dr. Gallagher followed close behind. "What's goin' on, baby?" Alex asked as he stopped next to the exam chair.

Cat was lying back against the headrest with her eyes closed. The tinted inserts completely covered her eyes behind her glasses.

'Dammit! Makes it look like she's blind!'

Sensing his distress, she raised her head and turned her face to him. "I'm OK, love. The machine's lights were kinda intense," Her voice reflected her weariness.

Alex perched next to her and put his arm protectively around her. "One of ya better start talkin'."

"Though I haven't had a chance to ask Dr. Gallagher, I'm sure he'll agree that we need to call in a neurologist," Dr. Smythe replied.

"A brain doctor?"

"No comments from the peanut gallery about me havin' a brain!" Cat warned him in a tired voice.

"Shut up, woman! Let the man speak!"

"Don't get all Neanderthal on me!" She retorted. "It's probably just a precautionary measure."

"Allow me, Mrs. Trager," Dr. Gallagher interjected. "You're wife is correct. This is just a precaution. But there could also be some fluid build up between the skin and the skull, or the brain and the skull causing the headaches."

"And since I'm already here, it just makes sense to get 'er done," she added.

Alex knew she was trying to keep him from worrying, but he could also hear the tremor in her voice. 'She's scared, and doesn't want me to know it.' He tightened his hold on her. "Makes a lot of sense to me too, baby. How long will it take to get the guy here?"

"There's some very good neurologists at Stockton General. Once the request is in, someone can be here later today," Dr. Smythe explained. "The good news is that her eyes didn't indicate a major problem."

"Ya can tell that from inside the eye?" He asked incredulously.

"Why do you think they call the eyes the windows to the soul, among other things?" Cat inquired.

"I told ya to shut up, woman!" He replied tersely. "Do it," he added in the same terse tone of voice to the doctors. "The sooner the better."

"I'm sure the two of you want to talk; she's free to go back to her room."

Alex was surprised that Cat hadn't reacted to his barked order to her. He glanced at her to find that she had fallen asleep with her head resting against him. Alex gently nudged her with his elbow. "C'mon, baby. Wake up. Time to go back to your room."

She moaned and stirred only long enough to fall asleep again. "This gonna keep happenin'?" Alex asked Dr. Gallagher.

"No," Dr. Gallagher assured him. "Her strength will return as she heals."

"I hope so, doc," Alex replied. He stood up, then reached down to pick her up. He carried her against him to the wheelchair. "Someone wanna hold this thing down?"

Dr. Smythe stepped forward to assist the biker. He had formed a grudging respect for him, just from the way he watched out for his woman. 'He might be an outlaw, but he's a true man!' He watched while Alex gently placed his sleeping wife in the chair, making sure she was secure and comfortable. "I could order a gurney," Dr. Smythe offered.

"Nah. She'll be OK as long as she's leanin' against me," Tig remarked. "Guess you'll be bringin' that brain doc to her once he gets here, so you can find me in her room."

---

Pete walked into his employer's hospital room, expecting to see her and her husband together. He found an empty room, though the bed showed signs of having been occupied. 'She was supposed to have more checkups, maybe the nurse's station knows where she is.'

The lone nurse sitting at the desk updating computer charts informed him that Cat was away for tests. "She's at the eye clinic right now. You can wait in the lounge down the way if you wish, or you can get something at the cafeteria," the nurse informed him.

"Thanks!" Pete decided to wait in the lounge. He'd stopped at the kiosk in the lobby for a coffee and snack, so the lounge was the best choice for waiting. He didn't feel disloyal. He considered it prudent to find out what the competing coffeehouses had to sell. 'Miss Cat always advises keeping an eye on ones' opponents.'

He'd not been impressed with the one server, who'd snapped and popped her words around a large wad of gum. Pete had nearly been hit by spit wads that projected from the girl's mouth. The food selection left much to be desired in his estimation. There were just a few cookies, and those looked like they'd been purchased in a store. So did the muffins. The coffee was OK. Not too strong or weak. However, the coffee also seemed to suffer from being 'brought in' from a grocery store.

'Guess it serves a purpose in giving people a choice, but not much!' Pete mused wryly, sipping from the Styrofoam cup. Every time the elevator opened, Pete looked up from his perch to see if it was his employer and her spouse returning. Finally, his vigil was rewarded by the sight of Mr. Tig piloting the wheelchair bearing his employer out of the elevator car.

Pete rose to greet them, a smile of welcome radiating from his face before he saw the tell tale dark lenses in Cat's glasses. "Oh, no!" He gasped softly.

"It's a'right, Pete. She's not blind. Just hyper light sensitive. The dark lenses are to keep her comfortable," Alex assured the young assistant manager.

"She looks asleep," Pete observed. "A little bit pale, too." He held the door to Cat's room open so Alex could easily pilot the chair into her room. He slipped inside and shut the door after him.

Alex had already forgotten about Pete's presence. He set the wheelchair locks, then lifted Cat into his arms, adjusting her body so that her head was cradled on his shoulder. While Alex settled his wife on the bed, Pete took the wheelchair out of the hospital room and left it near the nurses' station where they would be able to find it without falling over it.

By the time he returned to his employer's room, Alex had covered his wife and was sitting in the chair next to her bed, stroking her uninjured hand.

"Doesn't look like much has changed from yesterday," Pete observed quietly. He settled into another chair across the bed.

"There's a little improvement; her color's better," Alex offered. "

You look worried. What's wrong with her, Mr. Tig?"

Alex briefed the employee about the neurological consult the two doctors wanted. "Everybody says it's 'just a precaution'," he sighed. Outwardly, Tig acted confidence. Pete could sense that the outlaw was deeply concerned.

"I'm sure that's exactly the case. Besides, Miss Cat is very hard headed! It's gonna take more than a knock on the noggin to keep her down," Pete assured him.

A grim smile crossed Alex's face. "True dat, just don't let her hear ya say that!"

"Of course not!" Pete grinned.

The two men fell silent for a few moments. Pete gazed around the room while Alex was gazing at his wife's face and wondering what was taking the neurologist.

"You didn't just come over to see your boss," Alex stated flatly.

His sudden comment startled Pete, making his heart race. "N – no, sir," Pete stammered and swallowed convulsively.

Alex merely stared across the bed at his wife's assistant manager. "I'm not surprised. Good news seems to travel fast around here."

Pete stared blankly at him before realizing that Alex was referring to his suspended driver's license. "I don't know that anyone would consider it good news Mr. Tig."

"It's a pain in the ass!" Alex growled. "D'ya think I enjoy havin' to bum rides off people?" he roared, though he was more angry at the situation than with Pete.

Pete shook his head. "We – Miss Anna and I – want to help you. Miss Cat would've had out heads on a pike if we'd helped with the bail, but she can't get mad at us for being your temporary limo service!"

"Wanna bet?" She croaked from the bed. "And quit barkin' at my employees, love!"

Alex shook his head in annoyance. "I was not 'barking'!"

"Yes, dear," she grinned sleepily, sliding up in the bed to look at the two men. "You were just loudly stating your opinion."

Pete snickered behind his hand. The sound quickly changed into a cough as Alex glared balefully at the assistant manager.

"And no intimidatin' my employees, either!" Cat remarked.

"Damn, woman! Ya just don't lemme have any fun!" Alex pouted.

"Poor baby!" She replied teasingly. "As for you, Peter, would you please explain to me why you're providin' limousine service! I know about the driver's license, but why isn't the club helpin' y'all with this?"

"I was gonna call the clubhouse and have one of the prospects come after me," Alex explained.

"Miss Anna got a call from Chuckie at the garage. He was afraid that Mr. Tig was stranded and reached out to us," Pete added, omitting the part about Kozik abandoning Tig.

"Guess Chuckie didn't realize I had everything under control," Alex grinned dryly.

"I guess not," Cat agreed merrily. "Still, Pete's here, and you need a ride, so let's just chalk it up as a good omen."

"We could use one!" Alex observed.

"So how long was I out this time?"

"Not long, baby. Ya fell asleep in the eye clinic."

"All that male chest beatin' goin' on in there wore me out," she teased. "Any idea when the neurologist will be here?"

Alex shrugged again. "Sometime today is all I know."

"Then there's no reason for y'all to stick around here, love. Why don't you go on out to the compound, check in, maybe get some things done in the garage?" She suggested.

"I'd rather stay here," he replied softly.

"And I appreciate that, love. Y'all just said there's no set time for the specialist to get here. Waitin' around makes you antsy, and that makes me bitchy," she replied.

Alex found himself torn between doing what he needed to do and what he wanted to do. It was getting to be a habit. "C'mon, Cat!"

"Don't argue with me, love!" She pleaded. "You'll feel better if y'all go home, shower, change clothes, then go to the garage and do somethin' more important that sittin' and watchin' me sleep!"

"You are just as important and I happen to like watchin' ya sleep!" He protested vehemently.

"I'm sorry. Let's say you can be doin' somethin' more productive," she replied soothingly. "I promise to call y'all the minute there's news."

Alex favored her with 'the look'. "You'd better, if ya know what's good for ya, woman!"

"Whew! I'm glad that's settled!" She exhaled exaggeratedly, sinking back against the pillows. "

You really gonna be a'right?" Alex asked anxiously. "I don't mind stayin', baby."

"Don't go there again!" She warned, shaking a finger in his general direction. "Go, love. I'm just gonna sleep awhile, anyway."

"By the way, Miss Anna took care of feeding the felines this morning. They got plenty of sympathy from the customers."

"Little beggars! They have everybody in town wrapped around their tails!" She spoke with a great deal of affection for her furbabies.

The nurse entered the room bearing a small plastic cup on a tray. Cat snickered, but didn't utter a snarky comment about the pill. Instead she accepted it and tossed it to the back of her throat, and chased it down with a bit of water.

"Well, that just made it official!" Alex grimaced. "That pill will knock her out!"

"Why don't I wait out in the hall for you," Pete observed. He got up from the chair and waved a hand at his boss. "I'll talk to you later, most likely."

"Count on it!" She assured him.

As soon as the door closed behind Pete, Alex was leaning over his wife, burying his face in her neck. "I really wish you weren't tossin' me out!"

"I'm not tossin', throwin', or heavin' y'all out! Not that physically strong!" She protested. "It's not that I don't want y'all here, love; I just don't wanna feel guilty for havin' ya here when I'm not able to enjoy your company."

Alex felt his heart race at her words. "Ya had me thinkin' ya didn't want me around," he murmured.

"That's not very nice! Besides, admittin' such a girlie thing would've given y'all a swelled head -"

He grinned at her unintentional double entendre.

Cat shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Y'all have a one track mind!"

"I know!" He laughed.

"I meant that you would have an increased sense of your own importance," she retorted, rubbing her cheek against his hair.

"I like the 'big head' better!" He nuzzled her throat.

"Not surprised by that, love!" She sighed, part in exasperation, part in desire at his touch. "Be safe," she murmured drowsily.

Alex remained where he was for a few more minutes, until he was assured that his woman was sound asleep. He searched her person and finally found the iPhone, which he plugged into the charger so he wouldn't miss her call. He knew she'd used her own phone to call him. Alex slipped out of her embrace and strode to the door, unwilling to look back at Cat. "I'll never get outta here if I look at her again!" He stepped into the hall and signaled to Pete to come with him as he headed for the elevator.

---

Lyla gazed at her image in her mirror, making sure her stage makeup was properly applied. The girls all did their own make up, Dondo preferred to spend money on equipment and salaries than in employing people to handle tasks any individual could do for themselves. That was also why he didn't hire a costume wrangler. He had no qualms about buying costumes, but why hire someone just to maintain the costumes when the talent could do it just as easily?

Ima was similarly occupied just a couple of seats from Lyla. Though Ima had issued a cheerful 'Good mornin'!" to her co – star, Lyla hadn't returned the greeting. Ima had shrugged her shoulders at the continued snub and gone on about her business. She'd learned early on a girl didn't have to be BFF's with another in order for them to work together.

Dondo didn't care whether his talent got along on the outside or not. As long as personal differences didn't cause things to go bad in front of the camera, Dondo was happy to remain blissfully unaware of any of the demons that might torment his cast.

Lyla was nervous about working with Ima. Her hand still stung from the slaps she'd administered to Ope and Ima the day before. She'd made up with Opie before he left with the others for Belfast, but she'd yet to clear the air with Ima. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to.

Lyla was also battling morning sickness. She'd been able to prevent herself from barfing in front of her co – workers, Opie, and the kids, but it wasn't getting any easier to hide her symptoms. In another week or two, she'd start showing, and that would be the end of her work for several months, if not the rest of her life.

'Unless I do something about it sooner rather than later!' Lyla feared that Opie might use the baby as another reason to keep her from working at what she liked. 'He'd probably insist on me being the 'happy homemaker' instead of leaving the kid with a nanny while I work!' She chafed at the inequity in that one aspect of their life together. Opie could attend to club business without her saying a word, but he had plenty to say about her work and usually did!

Ima was consumed with thoughts of her own, considering the strained relationship between her and her 'Saffron Sister'. Ima decided the time had come for her to make the first move in repairing things between them. She had to work closely with Lyla, and didn't want the incident of the day before to complicate matters between them. "Lyla, about yesterday," Ima turned to face her co – worker as she spoke.

Lyla held up her hand. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"I'm sorry, but you need to know the whole story behind last night," Ima insisted. "That new guy from Tacoma and I were about to go to his room when Jax came storming into the clubhouse. He was pretty uptight at the time, and pounced on me before either of us could draw breath."

"If you were going to hook up with the blonde guy, why did you go to bed with Jax? You knew Tara would come looking for him!"

"No, I didn't," Ima declared.

Lyla stared at her in disbelief. "I didn't, otherwise I would have suggested we go somewhere else!" Ima insisted. "But Jax said he'd broken it off with Tara and wanted to be with me. My feelings for Jax took over from there." She was willing to assume some of the responsibility for what had happened, but she hadn't acted alone.

Lyla nodded in understanding. 'She's as much in love with Jax as I am with Ope'. She'd been angry at Ima's observation her the day before about her own pursuit of the quiet giant biker. The comment had hit closer to home than Lyla wanted to admit.

"So I went with him, and thought I'd finally gotten my heart's desire," Ima continued. "But it really wasn't that way. After Tara left the apartment, I offered to comfort Jax, and he treated me worse than poison. He told me to get out in such a way that I knew he didn't love me and never would."

'Oh, man! I thought she'd instigated it! That's why I slapped her,' Lyla mused to herself. She felt bad for slapping the other actress, but still proud that she'd stood up for her fellow 'old lady'. "That must've really hurt – Jax's betrayal that is," she co – commiserated.

"The slap hurt a bit, too," Ima admitted ruefully.

"You seem to have recovered from Jax," Lyla replied archly. "When I went to say goodbye to Ope, it was all over the clubhouse that you'd left with Kozik."

Ima smiled slightly, looking like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. "Yes, I did. He was – sweet. We spent the day together, but not all of it in the sack. He was actually willing to be seen in public with me!"

Lyla raised an inquiring eyebrow. That was pretty unusual. Most of the SAMCRO men were willing to bed the porn stars, but not associate with them outside a bedroom. Opie wasn't afraid to be seen with her in public, they'd been to several restaurants – both with and without the kids – for several weeks.

Ima shared with her about dinner at the 'Tie Dye Grill' followed by a long, relaxing ride in the country. The only thing Ima didn't share was Kozik's desire for her to be his 'old lady'. She had a feeling that Lyla's reception wouldn't be as welcoming.

"That sounds like a fun place!" Lyla noted enthusiastically. "We should go there some time."

"I don't know what's more fun, the décor or the menu!" Ima laughed. Lyla was reverting to her previous attitude with her, and that was going to make filming a lot easier for both of them. More importantly to Ima, Lyla was one of the few genuine friends she had in the business. She didn't want to do anything more to jeopardize that.

"I'm glad we talked," Lyla admitted. "I wasn't looking forward to this shoot earlier."

"Neither was I!" Ima lied discreetly. She hadn't dreaded the day, but she hadn't been looking forward to it either. "I'm glad we cleared the air between us, too."

"So is this thing with Kozik going anywhere?"

"It's kind of too early to tell. He's nice, built, sexy as Hell. He's a good lover, and I like him."

"But?" Lyla prodded after Ima had fallen silent for a few moments.

"I want to be fair with Kozik. This has happened so soon after this thing with Jax blew up. I don't want to hurt him the way I was hurt," she explained.

"Sounds like it's more than just a one night stand," Lyla grinned.

"That's true. I'm just content to take things one day at a time, see where the road takes us for now."

Dondo stuck his head into the dressing room. "Are you girls ready?"

Ima and Lyla exchanged amused grins. They stood up and followed Dondo to the set.

---

Alex stepped out of the shower and briskly dried off with a towel. He felt much better now that the grime from the previous day was gone. He also felt very much alone. Everywhere he looked were things that reminded him of Cat and it tore his heart out. Her influence permeated the entire house, but was strongest in their bed and bathrooms.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Not an ounce of fat on his middle aged body, despite years of booze and broads. His lean muscles and sinews still worked well together. He had a few tattoos, and a few scars that told the story of his life. His body sent many women's hearts fluttering, and while he might share it with other women on the road, his body, heart, and soul belonged to his wife.

He flushed to look at himself in the mirror. 'Not like there's anyone else around to do it for me!' He mused ruefully. It felt strange not to have an audience watching him. One or all three of the cats could be counted on to keep him company while he dressed, watching him with what seemed to be unblinking stares.

It had taken awhile for him to get used to the cats ever watchful gaze. They were different than Missy. They were lighter, smaller, sneakier. But they also loved without question, just as Missy had done. It got so that he appreciated their attention, and didn't mind when they would rub against his legs in hopes of treats.

The silky feel of their fur reminded him of how his woman's hair felt in his hands: soft and smooth. Their tails would brush against his legs or hands like light caresses. Their purrs of contentment reminded him of a properly tuned motor.

The first time Misty has gotten over her innate fear of strangers to crawl into his lap had been a red letter day. He felt as proud as he had the first time he'd held his two daughters. Now he couldn't think of what life was like without the furry ones, just as he couldn't recall what his life was like without his woman filling the holes in his heart and soul.

'Shit! I'm gettin' all soupy! This ain't gonna help anyone. She's gonna be OK. I can handle a night in the house without her; she's done it often enough!' He quickly dressed in clean clothes and sauntered out to the front of the house where Pete waited.

"C'mon, let's go," he instructed, striding to the back door and the driveway. Pete followed at a trot, pausing long enough to make sure the back door was locked. Alex glanced briefly at the new PT, waiting patiently to be taken on the road. Behind it, in the garage, sat the Yamaha.

'Don't worry, guys, she'll be back with us before too long.' He slid into the front passenger seat of Pete's small Honda, hand massaging the bridge of his nose. "Shit! Now she's got me talkin' to 'em like they're alive!"

He looked out the window as Pete slid behind the steering wheel. The Honda cabin was smaller than the tow truck; even smaller than the PT. He wasn't used to such close proximity to another person in a car other than Cat. He wanted a smoke, but was conscious that Pete didn't smoke, and might not appreciate having his car smoked up.

"It's OK with me if you need to smoke," Pete offered, sensing Tig's discomfort. "As long as you roll down the window."

"I'm good," he replied. "Thanks."

"You sure you don't want me to take you back to the hospital after closing? I'll be going there anyway," Pete added.

Tig shook his head. "Thanks anyway. That's what we have prospects for! Not that I don't appreciate the offer, though."

Pete shrugged and drove on in silence. As his Honda neared the Teller – Morrow compound, he announced, "Feel free to call me if you need a ride and your prospects aren't available. You have my number don't you?"

"If not, it gives me an excuse to talk to my woman," Tig grinned. He also appreciated Pete's easy comradeship. As the husband of his employer and an outlaw, it would've been natural for Pete to be nervous around him.

Most people were intimidated by Tig's dark presence, especially in close quarters. Fortunately, none of Cat's employees felt intimidated by the club. The evening public events had helped break the ice so that her employees were considered friends of the club on the same scale as Cat and Floyd.

Pete turned into the gate and guided the small car to the parking area just beyond the garage bays. The Challenger was sitting in Tig's bay, waiting for him to work on the mechanical parts. A white under coat had been painted on the body, in preparation for the factory specified 'Plum Crazy' paint that would be applied after he'd finished the tranny and engine work.

"That's a nice lookin' Challenger!" Pete whistled, pulling the small Honda into a parking spot and putting the gear into 'park'. "Is that a present for Miss Cat?"

"You catch on fast, kid," Tig grinned. "Don't spoil the surprise."

"No way!"

Tig's gaze moved from his bay to a spot to one side where Kozik was working on a motorcycle. Just as he started to get out of the Honda, Tig witnessed Kozik walk into his bay and rummage around in his tool kit. "Oh no he's not!" Tig growled to himself. "It's bad enough he's wearin' a garage shirt, but usin' my tools is not right!"

Pete glanced warily out of the corner of his eye at Tig. He'd seen the blonde man rummage in a tool kit, but had no idea that it belonged to Mr. Tig. "Everything OK?" He asked tremulously

"Nothin' for ya to worry about, Pete," the outlaw assured him.

"If you say so," he shrugged, watching as Tig unfolded his frame from the small car.

"I'll keep your offer in mind. Be safe!" Tig tapped the roof of the car and stepped back so Pete could back out of the parking space.

Pete pointed his car towards the gate and waved a cheerful goodbye to Tig, who lifted a hand in farewell, then turned towards his bay and his precious tools. 'I am so gonna rip that fucktard a new asshole if he's messed up any of my tools!'

---

The gym was filled with the sounds of leather smacking leather, grunts, groans, and shouts of encouragement. The smell of sweat permeated the air. They were as familiar to Lumpy as the tattoo on his arm.

His attention was on the student working the punching bag in front of him, his back was to the lobby. He wasn't watching the comings and goings of his patrons; his managers were capable of doing that.

Lumpy enjoyed the teaching more than the administrative aspects of his business. The manager had left the lobby in order to take a leak. It didn't matter to Lumpy whether the lobby was staffed or not; any monetary transactions were conducted in the office, which could be locked when not in use.

Though Darby had refused to go along with Hale's plan a second time, he felt it imperative that he try convince the old boxer to give in to the developers. That's why he had returned to the gym after meeting with Hale.

Lumpy sensed a visitor's presence in the lobby. He glanced over his shoulder to see that the manager was absent and the visitor was Darby. 'Eh. Two visits en as many days! I'm getting popular!'

The manager hurried out of the bathroom, hastily zipping his pants on the run. Lumpy waved him over to the punching bag. "I'll handle dis, you vork with de kid for a leetle bit."

Lumpy walked slowly to the lobby, watching Darby's every move. The injured gang leader was perusing Lumpy's Olympic medal and the other display items, though he seemed most interested in the medal.

"Trouble must love company," Lumpy announced to Darby's back. "Vich am I, trouble or company?"

"Since most people think I'm trouble, that must make you company," Darby smiled as he turned around to face his former mentor.

"Und vhy am I being blessed vith your presence today, Earnest?"

"The same reason I was here yesterday, old man. To try to convince you to sell." Lumpy shook his head.

"Ve already had dis discussion, Earnest. Noting has changed since yesterday. It von't change tomorrow or any time in de future."

"You keep that up, there may not be a future," Darby noted gravely.

Lumpy's eyes narrowed. "Is dat a threat?"

"No, Lump. I'm not threatenin' ya. There is a threat to ya, but it's not comin' from me."

"Do you know vho it is coming from?"

'I wish I could tell you, old man, but you'd never believe me,' Darby gazed sadly at his former mentor. "I hear things, Lumpy. I can tell ya the longer you hold out, the meaner they're gonna get."

Lumpy placed a hand on Darby's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze. "I've lived a long time, Earnest. Seen many terrible tings. Horrible tings that man can do to man. Let dem come and do their worst. I'm not afraid!"

Darby shook his head. "Stubborn old fool, you should be. These guys fight dirtier than I ever did!"

A sad smile crossed Lumpy's face. "Eh, den dey have der vork cut out for dem. I can fight dirty too, if I have to."

"Don't you understand that I'm afraid for you?" Darby cried in frustration.

"I appreciate de sentiment, Earnest. Don't vorry, I'll be fine. I've got to go teach dese young people a few tings about boxing!"

Darby knew he was being dismissed. He trudged to the door, then looked back at his former mentor. Lumpy was standing in the middle of the lobby with his arms crossed, a slight smile on his face as he watched Darby.

The one - time leader of the Nords shook his head and walked out the door. Lumpy waited until Darby passed beyond the plate glass window towards the end of the street. His smile vanished, replaced by a worried frown. He strode into his apartment and walked straight to the phone. 'I lied, Earnest. Dose buyers concern me, but I have a club up my sleeve.'

---

A late model red Chevy Camaro sat on the street not far from the parking lot behind Lumpy's Gym. The occupants of the vehicle were watching the parking lot, waiting for the first glimpse of their benefactor. Most of the cars in the lot were rust buckets held together with duct tape and a prayer. One vehicle, parked near the back entrance to the gym, was covered by a tarp.

"That's likely the gym owner's vehicle," Luisa observed. "Old men can be very protective of their vehicles."

"This gringo seems to be taking his sweet time about meeting us!" Hector snorted. "For all I know, it could've been SAMCRO laying another trap for me!"

"He sounded too educated for SAMCRO," Luisa replied. "Too well bred. Do you think I'm too stupid not to recognize a potential trap when it's in front of me?"

"Never, Chula," he assured her, rubbing the back of his hand against her cheek.

Luisa glanced in the rear view mirror to see a silver Mercedes Benz rolling towards them. "Get down! This might be him!"

They ducked below the passenger windows, listening carefully as the luxury car passed them. Luisa raised her head just above the dash to watch the vehicle turn into the parking lot and pull to a stop. It's trunk faced the entry to the lot. "He's either foolish or very sure of himself," she reported to Hector. She sat up in her seat, allowing Hector room to do likewise.

"Give me your smart phone," he ordered, holding his hand out.

Luisa dug it out of her pocket and handed it to him. "You gonna use the voice memo?"

He nodded. "Si. I want to have insurance. What better insurance than to have the person who's hiring me telling me what he wants done?"

"It could come in handy," Luisa noted.

"Si, chula. It might prove - how'd the gringo put it? Ah yes! It might prove lucrative for us in the future." Hector activated the voice memo app and stuck the cell phone in his pocket where it could record without being seen. He doubted the white man would think about frisking him to check for weapons or a recording device. 'Rich people can be pretty dumb about that kind of shit!'

Hector started the engine and cruised into the parking lot, bringing the car to a stop a few feet from the Mercedes. They both got out, Luisa standing just to the side of the driver's door of the luxury car while Hector walked around the front of the Camaro, barking at the occupant to explain why he put up the bail money. His gun was tucked in his waistband in easy reach. His life would be forfeit if Hector didn't like the answer.

---

Tig's angry roar caused Chuckie to glance at the office window that separated it from the garage. Tig had been working under a vintage Dodge Challenger that was on a hydraulic life. He was pawing through his tool box and scowling. He yelled for Kozik to give him back a wrench he needed.

Kozik, crouched beside a Harley outside the garage bays, snorted that he'd return it when he was done with it, and not a minute earlier. The two exchanged verbal insults that grew in volume and intensity.

"Those two have been at it since Tig got here," Chuckie observed to Tara, who was helping him with the piles of paperwork on the desk. "Kozik's been helping himself to Tig's tools."

"That's not good," Tara grinned. "He's pretty particular about them."

"I accept that!" They stood in the doorway, watching the heated exchange between the two bikers.

"They could use some of my meds!" Chuckie laughed, turning back to the file cabinet. His escapade in pulling the fire alarm to create a diversion for Tig and Kozik to kill Pozo had earned him a three day stay in the psych ward for evaluation. It was the easiest three day stretch he'd ever done.

Tara smiled again at Chuckie's observation then sighed to herself. The invoices she'd been looking for weren't in any of the file cabinets, which meant she'd have to check in the clubhouse. Leaving Chuckie to deal with the office, she strode across the lot to the clubhouse. She tried not to look at Jax's bike, much less think about him. He'd made his preference pretty clear to her the day before. 'I told him that cheating would be the breaker. He's got no one to blame but himself!'

She was trying to convince her heart to accept what her head knew was right. The heart was refusing to listen. She barely paid attention to the Toyota Prius that cruised into the lot and parked directly across from the clubhouse entry. Tara winced inwardly when the driver turned out to be Lyla. 'Why's she here?' Tara's conscience got the best of her, as Lyla did stand up for her to Ima. The least she could do was to thank the girl.

Lyla felt uncomfortable discussing what had happened the previous day. She felt sympathy for the way Jax had treated Ima, but still felt a degree of loyalty was owed to the VP's old lady.

Lyla explained that the reason she'd come to the garage was to ask Tara's help with a medical process.

Tara was surprised that Lyla would want to terminate a pregnancy, though she'd been wrestling with that idea ever since she'd discovered Jax had replaced her with Ima. She wasn't so sure she could be a good mother anyway; look what happened to Abel on her watch! She agreed to look into the matter for Lyla, and would call her later.

One of the prospects appeared in the doorway of the clubhouse as she approached. He was younger than the other two, wearing a striped shirt. "Is Tig busy?"

She glanced at the prospect over her shoulder, then pointed at the garage where Tig was standing under the Dodge. "See for yourself. He's in a mean mood, so you might want to tread lightly around him."

Sebastian's Adam's apple worked like a piston in his throat. "Yeah, he does seem a mite testy. Guess it'll wait," he turned and ducked back into the clubhouse.

"'Testy' isn't exactly the word I'd use, but it definitely fits!" Tara laughed to herself before entering the clubhouse to retrieve the invoices.

Tig was growing more frustrated by the second. The car itself wasn't causing him grief. The brakes, differential, transmission, and even the engine were in better shape than he'd anticipated. 'Nothin' a little elbow grease won't help,' he thought.

The problem came from Kozik, who delighted in removing every tool Tig needed from his toolbox the minute he needed it. "Dammit! Why do ya keep takin' shit outta my toolbox, asshat?" Tig snarled at Kozik. He pointed across the garage to a large, wheeled toolbox. "The shop toolbox is right over there!"

"Yours is closer," Kozik grinned. He kept his back turned to Tig, continuing his work on the motorcycle while Tig fumed.

"That's no excuse! Gimme that damn wrench and walk a few feet to that box! Keep your paws off my tools!"

"Touchy, touchy!" Kozik smirked.

Miles was also working on a bike out in the lot, and trying very hard not to laugh. He wanted to, but knew it would only infuriate Tig. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of the SAA's ire. 'Let Kozik get all the grief, he's the one causin' it!'

Tig had already replaced the brake shoes and pads on all four wheels. The rotors were in good shape and didn't even need to be turned. The Hemi V8 engine turned over on the first try after he'd installed the new battery.

The body shop guys had already put in a new interior. This included headliner, seat and floor coverings. The interior even had that 'new car' smell. Structurally, the Challenger was in sound shape, just a few odds and ends needed his attention to bring it up to his standards. Then it could go back to the body shop for painting.

'I might be able to get it back to 'em today, as long as numb nuts doesn't keep makin' off with all my tools!" He grumbled. He glanced over his shoulder as Chuckie shouted for him to take a call.

'Oh, shit! I hope it's not bad news about my girl!' He hurried to the office as Chuckie added that Lumpy Feldstein was the caller. He breathed an inner sigh of relief as he motioned for Chuckie to move out of his way. "What's up, Lumpy?"

"I need de club's help. Can't discuss dis over de phone. How soon can you get here?"

'Somethin's not right. Lumpy actually sounds scared!' Tig forced himself to remain calm and asked, "are you a'right?"

"I'm fine." Lumpy assured him.

"OK. Sit tight. We're on the way." He set the phone back on the receiver and turned to Chuckie. "Go get the prospects, tell 'em we're headin' out to Lump's. Have one of 'em bring the keys to the van."

"I accept that!" Chuckie raced off towards the clubhouse.

The minute Sebastian heard that Tig was in the garage, the prospect hurried out of the clubhouse entrance in hopes of speaking to the SAA about quitting.

Unfortunately, Tig's attention was already on Kozik, who had helped himself to Tig's tools. Tig was highly upset, which sent the prospect scurrying back into the relative safety of the clubhouse. 'I'll just wait until he's in a more receptive mood.'

He kept checking on the garage after completing each chore, hoping to be able to catch Tig at a good moment. Every time he checked, Tig was yelling at Kozik about the tools he was needing. 'Am I ever going to get a chance to tell him I need to quit?'

Piney observed the prospect's constant treks to and from the doorway with amusement. 'Kid's gonna wear a trench in the floor if he keeps that up!'

With Tara helping out in the garage office, and the rest of the mechanical work under control, Piney had lumbered into the clubhouse and settled down at the bar. He downed shot after shot of tequila. Miles was serving him with instructions to keep the shots coming.

"What's the matter with him?" Piney growled, tipping another shot back and nodding his head at Sebastian.

"Dunno. He's been actin' like that all day."

"He's wearin' me out!" Piney huffed. "Prospect, get over here!" He motioned to Sebastian to sit at a bar stool next to him. "What's wrong with you, boy?"

"N – nothing!" Sebastian stammered while he settled on the bar stool next to Piney.

Piney glared at Sebastian. "Nothin', eh? I've never known 'nothin'' to make a man as antsy as you. Ya need to talk to someone in authority?"

"No. Yeah. I dunno." Sebastian stammered, lowering his gaze to the floor. He did want to talk to a patched member, and would be happy to talk with one of the founders if he couldn't confide in Tig. What he didn't want to do was to talk about resigning in front of his fellow prospects.

"We're men of mayhem, not indecision!" Piney snorted, tossing back another shot.

"I – I need to talk one on one with someone who's patched, but not in the open like this," Sebastian explained.

"And that's why ya keep checkin' on Tig, to see when he's in a good mood," Piney remarked. "Son, Tig's never in a good mood!"

'Oh, great!' Sebastian rolled his eyes to the Heavens. "Can I talk to you?"

"I don't generally have much to do with the care of you prospects, but given the circumstances, I'll lend ya an ear," Piney grinned. He pointed at Miles to send him away.

Before the two bikers could begin their discussion, Chuckie raced into the clubhouse and ran up to the bar. "Tig says to haul ass right now!" Chuckie announced breathlessly.

"Where's the fire?" Piney asked.

"All I know is Lumpy Feldstein called for Tig, and then he ordered me to alert the prospects to be ready to roll," Chuckie explained, panting from his exertions. "One of you has to drive the van."

Piney hefted another shot and tossed it down his throat.

Sebastian stared from Chuckie to Piney while Miles and Filthy Phil started moving to the door. "I've got the van keys!" Phil called back.

"Didn't you hear me?" Chuckie exclaimed, glaring at Sebastian.

"Yeah but I - we - I mean, I was about to talk to Piney about somethin'!"

"Whatever it is can wait, son," Piney explained. "When a patched member tells ya to do somethin', you jump."

"Technically, he's not a patched member," Sebastian pointed out. "

Don't be a smartass kid," Piney growled. You'll live longer. Now get your ass in gear!"

"Aren't you comin'?" Sebastian asked hopefully. If Piney came along, it was likely that he'd drive the van, and Sebastian could ride with him and get things off his chest.

"Nah. Somebody needs to stay here and run the operation," Piney observed. "Now get a move on before Tig comes in here and mops the floor with ya!"

Sebastian's heart fell to his feet. He turned and scampered out the clubhouse door without a look back.

Chuckie sighed and leaned against the bar stool Sebastian had just vacated. He could hear Tig outside barking orders to the prospects.

"What's all the fuss?" Piney asked. "Dunno for sure. Lumpy Feldstein called, asked to talk to Tig. Next thing I know, Tig's barking orders like a drill sergeant."

"I heard that somebody's been applyin' pressure to the business owners on Liberty Street to sell. Lumpy's been the only hold out," Piney replied, staring into the bottom of his empty shot glass.

"Then Lumpy must've called about somebody upping the ante," Chuckie stated.

"If they are, then they're messin' with the wrong guy. Lump's a friend of the club, we'll keep him safe," Piney assured him.

Tig unbuttoned his work shirt as he stalked back to his bay. He threw the shirt on a nearby shelf and shrugged into his cut.

"What's up?" Kozik inquired. "Lumpy just called, says he needs our help."

"I'm comin' with." Kozik scrambled to his feet and tossed the borrowed tools back into Tig's toolbox. He pulled off his own work shirt, replaced it with the sleeveless shirt he'd worn earlier, and grabbed his own cut on the run.

"What a surprise!" Tig retorted.

"Wanna bitch ride?" Kozik grinned.

"Hell, no! One of the prospects is drivin' the van. Try to keep up," Tig called over his shoulder. He ran to the van where Filthy Phil was already climbing behind the steering wheel.

Sebastian had hoped to be able to talk Phil out of driving the van, but Tig's fearsome countenance prevented him from making the suggestion. He turned to his bike and mounted it, adjusting his helmet on his head.

Miles was already starting his bike while Kozik started to put his own helmet on. The van began rolling before the bikers were ready to leave. Within seconds of the van clearing the gate, Kozik and the two prospects were moving towards the gate in pursuit of the van.

---

In the long run, Earnest Darby wasn't surprised that his former mentor refused to sell his building. Lumpy had started over too many times in his life to just roll over for Hale, and that made Darby concerned for the man's well being.

Darby had dealt with pricks and assholes all his life. Especially the rich fucktards who enjoyed walking all over people to get what they wanted. Jacob Hale fit that bill to a 'T'. 'Why else would that fucktard pay me two grand to put a scare into Lump? What's to keep him from offerin' more money to make Lumpy see the light?'

Though it had been years since Darby had taken lessons from Lumpy, the former drug dealer still cared about the man. He definitely didn't want to see Lumpy pay the ultimate price for interfering with Jacob Hale's plans.

Darby paced around his living room, stopping every once in a while to dig his cell phone out of his shirt pocket. He'd start to dial a number, then turn off the phone, slip it back in his pocket, and pace again. "To Hell with it! Feldstein might call SAMCRO, but he's stubborn enough to try to ride it out on his own! The best way I can help is to make an anonymous tip to CPD. Maybe they'll send a car by a few times tonight." He resolutely dialed the number for CPD and held the cell to his ear.

"Charming Police, how can I direct your call?"

"I need to talk to someone about a crime that might happen tonight," he announced gruffly, attempting to disguise his voice as best he could. 'The last thing I want is for one of the cops to recognize my voice! They'd refuse to take it seriously if they know it's me.' "Just a moment, please." Darby waited impatiently in the void of hold until someone finally picked up the line.

"May I help you?" a male voice inquired.

"Yeah. I have reason to believe that the gym owner on Liberty Street, Lumpy Feldstein, is in danger," Darby replied tersely.

"I see. What makes you think that?"

Darby rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Haven't you guys been patrollin' along Liberty Street lately? Don't ya know what's goin' on there?"

"Most of the businesses in that district have closed," the cop replied. "Not surprising in this economy."

"That's what you think!" Darby huffed. "Those businesses were bought out under force by some kind of rich conglomerate. The only business still in operation is Lumpy's."

"So? I've yet to hear a crime," the cop scoffed.

"What if I told ya a prominent local citizen was behind the buy out, and was hiring muscle to persuade Lumpy to sell?"

"Can you prove it?"

"No," Darby sighed. "All I'm askin' is that CPD drive by the gym a few times tonight, make sure the old man's OK. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, it's not, sir. It's just that you've not given me a lot to go on to make special trips there."

"What do you want, a fuckin' engraved invitation?" Darby snapped.

"No, sir. I just need something more concrete than a belief that something might happen. Especially when the alleged victim hasn't complained of any kind of harassment."

"He wouldn't, the stubborn old Jew! He thinks he can handle anything they dish out! These people don't play by the same set of rules!"

"Well, I can alert the patrols tonight, and suggest they keep their eyes open for anything unusual while they're patrolling the area tonight. That's the best I can do right now."

"Your best might not be good enough," Darby mumbled. He pressed the 'end call' button and sank to the couch, placing his head in his bandaged hands. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.

---

"It's good of you to come on such short notice, Dr. DeSoto," Dr. Gallagher stated, adding a hearty handshake to his greeting to the visiting neurologist. "This is Dr. Smythe, our eye specialist."

"Doctor," nodded Dr. Smythe.

"Nice to meet you both. With all these titles, just call me Roy," the neurologist grinned.

"Then I'm Paul," replied Dr. Gallagher.

"I'd prefer to remain professional about this," Dr. Smythe intoned, frowning at the other two.

Gallagher and DeSoto exchanged amused glances that clearly stated, "There's one in every crowd!"

The trio moved into a conference room where an overhead projector hung from the ceiling, linked via wi - fi to a computer set at the head of the long table. "If you'll have a seat, we can fill you in on Mrs. Trager's injuries and current condition," Gallagher added, settling in front of the laptop and tapping keys.

Smythe and DeSoto took seats on opposite sides of the table. "I thought the patient's name was Marshall?"

"Emphasis on was. You obviously didn't watch the local television news," Smythe snorted.

"No, I didn't. I try to stay away from that pablum. Someone care to fill me in?"

"Mrs. Trager, formerly Ms. Marshall, is married to a member of the local motorcycle club. Though she claims they're just Harley enthusiasts who happen to be mechanics, she opted to keep the marriage under wraps so people who wanted to make trouble for her husband wouldn't use her as a tool. "

"Jesus Christ! Sounds like that lame excuse the old Superman used for not marrying Lois Lane in the comics I read as a kid!" DeSoto laughed.

"That occurred to me also," Dr. Gallagher smiled. "She owns a coffee shop/book exchange on Main Street that is very successful. She hosts a number of after hours activities for the kids; movie, open mic and karaoke nights and she's considering a run for city council."

"Wow! No wonder she's exhausted!"

"Can we get on with this?" Dr. Smythe complained. "I, for one, don't have all day to chit - chat!"

Dr. DeSoto covered a smile with his hand, while Dr. Gallagher rolled his eyes and tapped a few keys on the computer. A computerized patient file appeared on the wall in front of them. "Mrs. Trager was injured in an auto accident a few days ago. Hit and run. As you can see from the file, she sustained mostly minor injuries; bruises, minor cuts, cracked bones in the ribs and arm along with a broken nose and a blow to the head."

"The safety glass in the windshield broke. A piece of glass got caught between her left eyelid and the cornea," Dr. Smythe added. "I went in under the eyelid to remove the sliver. Tests today revealed some heightened light sensitivity, but no loss of sight in the eye."

"I'm sure she was relieved."

"So was her husband, who insisted on being present," Dr. Smythe remarked dryly. "What made us bring you in is the facial and cranial injuries. From what we learned about the wreck, the rear view mirror flew off the windshield on impact, hitting her in the face. The airbags did not deploy as it was a passenger side impact. She was wearing her seat belt, but her head hit the interior frame of the vehicle. We're also not counting out whiplash."

"You're thinking there's a cranial injury of some kind?" Dr. DeSoto frowned. "We're not sure. She complains of severe headaches and extreme fatigue after any activity. Unfortunately, she wasn't willing to remain inactive," Dr. Gallagher stated. He explained about her decision to leave the hospital the minute her condition was changed to fair from critical. "At first I thought she was being stubborn, but it turned out that the aforementioned club's Vice President's baby boy was abducted that day."

"That was the same day his mother went on the run for killing two people in Galt," Dr. Smythe sniffed disdainfully.

"I remember reading about that," DeSoto stated. "But why did Mrs. Trager think she had to leave the hospital because of it?"

"The person suspected of taking the child killed one of the club members. Her husband is the club's Sergeant at Arms, by the way. Dr. Knowles, the co – ordinating physician, later informed me that the patient left in order to give the club a safe, private place to 'lick their wounds'," Dr. Gallagher explained.

DeSoto studied the reports, x - rays, and the few test results with a practiced eye. "I can't rule out cranial damage without more tests. Why weren't either a Cat Scan and/or MRI performed at the time of admission?"

"The injury to the eye appeared serious. I felt it necessary to get her into surgery to remove the sliver before further damage occurred. Following the surgery, Dr. Gallagher and I believed it best to let her rest, as she has a documented difficulty with recovering from anesthesia," Dr. Smythe replied.

"Both tests were scheduled, but she signed out before we could do them," Gallagher added. "We weren't sure until today that a cranial injury might still exist. She still has a lump that is tender, but it has shrunk in size."

"The sooner we run those two tests, the sooner I can make a more definitive diagnosis and plan treatment. Anything I might determine now is going to be 90% conjecture."

"If I'm not needed any longer on this consult, I've got other things to!" Dr. Smythe announced. He got up from the conference table, shook hands with DeSoto again, and left the room.

"What a ray of sunshine!" DeSoto grinned.

"He certainly knows how to brighten a room by leaving it," Gallagher replied, reaching for the phone. "I'll get those tests scheduled, then show you to the doctor's lounge."

Dr. Gallagher called to the labs where CAT Scans and MRI's were conducted, placing the order for both tests to be run on Mrs. Trager. "While you're at it, go ahead and run a full body MRI. I'd like to make sure she doesn't have any other issues from the wreck," he added, making notes with his stylus on his PDA. "OK, thanks," he replaced the receiver, then sent a quick text to Dr. Knowles to update her. "All set!"

"Where's the patient now?" "Back in her room, I suspect. The eye exam tired her out," Gallagher explained.

"Is there any way to give her a sedative to keep her calm?" DeSoto inquired. "In my experience, patients who are completely relaxed give better tests than awake. The MRI tends to intimidate a lot of people."

"She should've been given a pain pill, it would make her sleep awhile." DeSoto nodded and stood up, following Gallagher out of the conference room. He had downloaded a copy of the file into his own PDA during the consult, which he would study more thoroughly as the tests were run.

---

Tara glanced at her cell phone when it vibrated an alert to find she had a message from Dr. Gallagher. The message informed her the neurological consult was taking place and further tests had been ordered on Cat. She was just as happy not have to update Tig, as it would just cause him more worry.

Tig, along with the prospects and Kozik had taken off on some kind of urgent club business. She'd done everything she could to help Chuckie with the paperwork and decided to return to the hospital. She had afternoon rounds, and needed to locate a clinic that wouldn't require insurance for Lyla's 'procedure'.

The more Tara thought about Lyla's request, the more certain she felt that carrying Jax's child to term was not a good idea. For reasons best known only by him, Jax had tossed her to the curb. She didn't relish the idea of being tied to him for twenty years by a child.

'But I'm not sure I want to go through the emotional upheaval like happened last time,' she mused during the drive. 'Even though aborting Kohn's child was the best answer, it haunted me for a long time. Kohn would've made a child's life Hell with his fixation on me. Now I'm looking at taking the same way out. Maybe this time, I should carry the child, but give it up for adoption.'

As soon as she considered the idea, she quickly decided against it. The spectre of Gemma fighting her tooth and nail against adopting out her grandchild was overwhelming.

'That woman is so family oriented it's scary. She might even take me to court to prevent my giving it up for adoption! Why did she have to figure it out in the first place?'

There was also the possibility of escaping. Jax had once taunted that she tended to flee when things became too difficult in her love life. She'd done that 11 years earlier when their relationship hit a rough patch. She had considered going back to Chicago when their relationship again entered troubled waters. If she left town, Jax would never find her until it was too late.

'No! I'm not going to relocate again! I can handle the occasional contact with Jax. He's not a stalker like Kohn. He'll probably move heaven and earth to avoid me!' she observed ruefully.

She parked the car in the doctor's lot and sat with her head against the steering wheel. She realized that making a final determination would have to wait until later. She had to center her attention on the many details in front of her, and couldn't afford to allow her mind to wander. Too many small lives depended on her.

---

Hector wore a satisfied smile as he hefted the heavy envelope in his hand. "Two grand for just a few minutes' talk!"

"And two grand more when the job is done!" Luisa reminded him. "So much for the saying that 'crime doesn't pay'!"

"Oh, it pays, and it pays well, Chula," Hector replied, stuffing the envelope in his back pocket.

"So what do you plan to do to the old man, and what part do I play?"

"You don't," Hector announced. "More than one person might tip off the old man."

Luisa's eyes blazed with anger. She was used to doing her fair share of the dirty work, and didn't like being left out. Hector rubbed the back of his hand along her cheek. "Chula, please understand. Hale's used only one person at a time to try to influence this old man. Any more than that will lead him to turn to SAMCRO for protection. Hale doesn't want them involved."

"What if they are?"

"All the better. As it is, I intend to do a really 'bang up' job of vandalism to the place, then put the blame on the Mayans. SAMCRO will be so busy going after Alvarez for violating the deal that they won't have time to protect the old man. That's when we make a return visit and persuade him to sell."

"You keep saying 'we' about the next time. Does that mean I'll be included for any future projects?"

"Who else would I consider?" He replied. "You're the only person I trust."

Luisa's features softened. "OK, Hector, we do it your way. I'll stay behind this time."

They pulled into the driveway of Luisa's Aunt's home and parked in the garage. A crate of weapons the pair had removed from the clubhouse and Hector's motorcycle were stored inside, but there was still room for the car.

Salazar and Luisa entered the house and Hector immediately checked the voice memo to make sure he'd gotten a clear recording. Luisa listened carefully to the conversation, as Hale had rolled the window up when Hector had gotten into the passenger's seat, leaving her out in the cold.

She'd worked hard to stifle her fear for Hector when the gringo, who Hector later informed her was none other than Jacob Hale, had rolled up the window. She kept an eagle eye on the rich man. If anything happened to Hector, she'd break the window to get to the gringo.

The recording was perfect. Anyone who heard it would have no doubt that one of Charming's most prominent citizens was hiring a thug to do the dirty work he didn't want to be caught doing.

"Hah! He hates SAMCRO so much, yet his hands are just as dirty as theirs!" Luisa laughed snidely when the recording ended.

"Gringos like him are too blind to see their own evil for what it is," Hector agreed.

"Si, which will make it all the easier to use this for our own benefit!" Luisa chortled. "That's my woman!" Hector grinned approvingly. "We'll go out later, get some food. For now, we rest."

"When do you plan to do this job?"

"After midnight. By then the old man will think nothing's going to happen and he'll be caught off guard. I'll hit with the force of a hurricane!" Hector promised.

"What about the VP's old lady? Are we not going to use her to get back at him?" Luisa inquired. "Fuck no! I'll ride by her house tonight, see if her car is there. If it is, we come back with the car after I do the job and surprise her!"

"I went by there before I got the bail money," she admitted. "There was no sign of her car or the VP's bike. There was a silver pickup parked out front, but the house looked deserted."

"That's because the club is away. I heard that blond asshole tell Alvarez they'd be gone a week. They didn't think I could hear them, but I heard every word, Chula."

"So that means she's on her own and unprotected." Luisa observed. "Si. We'll take her and keep her until the VP comes after her. Then we kill them both."

---

Hale walked into his office and nodded brusquely at his secretary. He picked up his messages without a word to her and continued on into his private office. He shuffled through the messages, finding nothing that needed his immediate attention, and set his briefcase on the floor next to his desk. Next he removed his suit coat and hung it on his office chair before setting down and allowing himself to relax.

The meeting with Salazar went better than expected, though he was surprised the Calavarez leader showed up with his old lady. Not that the woman was any trouble; she stood between the cars and allowed the men to conduct business.

Hale had made it clear to Salazar that he wanted enough damage down to the building to make it impossible, for Feldstein to make repairs. "Break glass, tear up equipment, whatever it takes. The only rule to remember is no one gets hurt."

"I hear you, esse," Salazar replied, hefting the heavy money envelope in his hand. "I'll make sure the old man is ready to sell by morning!"

Hale had no reason to think Salazar wouldn't do as he was told. His experience with hired thugs was they always toed the line in order to get all the money they were offered. His general distrust of thugs made Hale give half at the meeting, and pay out the remainder upon completion of the job. He'd yet to lose money by having a thug take the money and run without doing the job. Nor did he worry that Darby would alert the authorities to his intentions where Feldstein was concerned.

'Unser is too afraid of losing CPD to listen to anything Darby had to say that doesn't involve confessing a crime!' He laughed. 'As long as I'm holding the future of CPD over his head, Unser will dance to my tune instead of SAMCRO's!'

He smiled with delighted anticipation, knowing that the last property on Liberty Street was about to be his at long last. 'That'll just be a start to the changes I plan to make. Once I'm in the Mayor's office, no one will dare to try to stop me, including SAMCRO. I don't care how many puppets they try to get on the council."

Hale had always suspected one of his fellow city council members was on the MC's payroll. Unlike Croucher, who flaunted his association with Hale to anyone who would listen, the SAMCRO plant remained silent. He had some idea who the plant might be, as there were two council members that always voted in opposition to him. But he couldn't be certain that his belief was right based on that little bit of evidence. Whoever the plant was, the person was good at covering their tracks.

'Nor do I believe for one minute that Trager's woman won't be a puppet for the club, no matter what kind of show she and that felon put on for the media! She may make the voters believe it, but I'm not fooled!'

Despite the irritants that SAMCRO and the club's friends caused him, Hale felt very positive that the primary election was just a formality. He could win easily over anyone that went up against him for the office. Once he had the mayor's seat, LOAN's plans for him would move forward like a juggernaut. SAMCRO would never know what hit them. Neither, for that matter, would Unser and CPD.

---

Sebastian backed his bike against the curb in front of Lumpy's gym. His bike was nestled between Miles and Kozik's. The van, carrying Tig and Filthy Phil, pulled up behind the bikes. He hoped to catch Tig long enough to tell him he planned to turn in his cut and moved to intercept the SAA before he reached the door.

Tig leapt from the van, instructing Filthy Phil to stay put. "We won't be long," he added, turning to the door and nearly running over Sebastian. "Watch it, Prospect!" Tig snarled, shoving Sebastian aside in his quest to get to the door.

"Tig, wait a - ow!" Sebastian's protest was cut off by Miles firmly grasping his arm.

"Not now, man! Whatever you need to say is gonna hafta wait!" Miles hissed.

Kozik glanced quizzically at the two prospects as he followed Tig into the gym.

Sebastian nodded miserably at Miles, hitched his shoulders back and walked after the other two.

Myles was nervous about Sebastian's behavior. He'd seen the ferocious expressions on the two patched members' faces and guessed neither would be receptive to Sebastian at that moment. Both were too concerned about their friend.

'Guess that wasn't such a good idea after all,' Sebastian thought. 'I could give my cut to Myles and take off from here, but that's the coward's way out. If I'm gonna quit, I'm gonna do it right and turn it in when we get back to the clubhouse.'

"Lump!" Tig called across the noisy work out area. The man's back was to the entrance, his attention centered on one of his students.

"You two," he pointed to Sebastian and Miles, "wait and watch for anything suspicious. I wouldn't put it pass those asshats to try anything in daylight!"

Without a word to Kozik, Tig turned and strode towards Lumpy. The boxer had heard Tig's greeting and turned to raise a hand in greeting. Kozik stuck to Tig's heels like glue, raising a hand in greeting to his old friend. 'I don't give a shit whether Tig wants me along or not! Lump's still my friend, and I'm gonna do everything possible for protect him!' "

Teeg! Hoiman! Good to see you together at last!" Lumpy exclaimed. Pure joy took the place of the weariness he usually carried on his features.

"Don't read anything into this, Lump," Tig growled, casting the 'stink eye' on Kozik. "He's just here until the guys get back from retrievin' Jax's kid."

"Yeah, ya just go on thinkin' that!" Kozik huffed.

"I know it for a fact!" Tig snarled.

"Boys! Boys! Please! Don't fight in front of me! It hurts me to listen to dat!" Lumpy pleaded.

"He's got a point, 'Hoiman'," Tig smirked. "We're not here to fight each other!"

'Not yet!' Kozik thought. He'd already decided to wait for the right moment and have it out with Tig right there in the squared circle.

Tig wasn't paying attention to Kozik's comment. He was listening to Lumpy describe both of Darby's visits.

"I didn't think much of it de furst time, just figured it vas Darby blowing smoke, trying to look tough. Today, de visit felt different."

Tig looked Lumpy over as the other man talked about Darby's earlier visit. He was looking for any evidence that he'd been physically harmed. Tig doubted Darby would've been stupid enough to attack the old man in front of his clientele, but one could never be certain of anything Darby might or might not do.

Lumpy assured the two bikers that Darby hadn't physically harmed him, much less out and out threatened him. None the less, the former Nords leader had made an impression on Lumpy. "Darby reminded me dat he would not physically hurt me. But he did remind me dat de persons vho vant my property vould find someone villing to do it."

Tig and Kozik exchanged looks. Darby was right, and whoever got the job wouldn't stop with a verbal warning. Tig assured his friend that they'd protect him, no matter if Lumpy wanted that help or not. He turned to herd the two prospects to the lobby where they could discuss assignments.

Kozik chose that moment to throw the challenge at Tig in the form of a set of boxing gloves. The pair of gloves hit Tig right in his sore shoulder and bounced onto the floor. Kozik offered Tig a rematch of the previous day's battle royale.

Tig immediately blew the suggestion off. There were more important irons in the fire than catering to Kozik's ego. He'd already beaten Kozik to a tar once, why inflict more embarrassment on him? Kozik's continued taunts eventually got under Tig's skin and he accepted the challenge, ordering Kozik to take off his rings.

Sebastian rolled his eyes in annoyance. 'Not again! Jesus Christ! There's a conspiracy of some kind goin' on!'

"Hold on! If you're going to fight, den you're going to do it de right vay!" Lumpy shouted, heading towards the two would – be combatants. "You'll use gloves und head pieces or you von't fight under my roof!"

"That's fine with me!" Tig smirked. "It'll cushion the blows I'm gonna land on that blond asshole!"

"Hah! An old man like you needs all the protection he can get!" Kozik snorted, slipping his hands into a pair of gloves. He turned to Miles, who was standing in his corner, and held out the gloves so Miles could tie them.

Tig slid his hands into another pair of gloves and turned to Sebastian to have him tie them in place. The prospect was looking a little green around the gills. "You're not the one fightin', Prospect! Just tie the damn things!"

"I - I've never touched boxing gloves before! How do you tie 'em?"

"Vatch me," Lumpy replied, hauling himself into the ring and stepping in front of Tig. "Go easy on him, Son. You vere once a Prospect, remember."

"At least I knew how to tie a fuckin' set of boxin' gloves!" Tig snarled.

"Only after I taught you!" Lumpy grinned. He raised his voice to include Kozik in the conversation. "Now, here's de rules, men. No kidney punches, no holds, no tripping. When I say 'break', you go to your corners. And Teeg, no biting! Dis is going to be a clean fight!"

The two combatants nodded agreement and went to their corners, waiting for Lumpy's word to come out fighting. As word of the match spread, the clients stopped whatever they were doing to crowd around the squared circle to watch. It wasn't often they saw anyone fight in street clothes. Seeing two members of the local MC fight was even more rare. Quiet wagering began on which outlaw would be the victor.

"What do you want me to do, Tig?" Sebastian asked, hoping to make up for his earlier blunder.

"Stay the Hell outta my way!" Tig snorted, rolling his head and shoulders to loosen the muscles and ramming the gloves together to test them. It had been awhile since he'd fought with gloves, but the style was no different than bare knuckle fighting. He still planned to wipe the mat with Kozik.

---

Business was busier than usual at 'Charming Pawse'. Thanks to the previous day's news coverage, the employees didn't enjoy the usual lull between the breakfast and lunch rushes. Quite a few new customers checked out the business, enticed by the news stories and the petition. They stayed for the enticing smells of coffee and baked goods, and to visit the cats.

The feline trio, once Miss Anna fed them, quickly forgot their displeasure at their humans' absence. They preened in the window and showed off to their new audience, enjoying the attention they felt they deserved.

"At this rate, Miss Cat won't have to do any house to house canvassing!" Miss Anna observed to Adrian, who had collected the most recent filled petitions from the customer area and replaced them with fresh sheets.

"Somebody needs to go through these and make sure there aren't any duplicate or joke signatures," Adrian replied, holding out one page that contained several questionable entries.

Miss Anna looked over the page and frowned. "I'd say so! We all know there's no such person as 'Mighty Mouse' living in Charming!"

"Maybe the best thing to do is highlight the questionable names instead of whiting them out," Pete offered. "That way, no one can question that Miss Cat or anyone else tampered with the petitions."

"And by us ferreting out the fake entries ahead of time, no one can accuse Miss Cat of padding her numbers, like Old Chicago politics!" Adrian laughed.

"Why don't you go ahead and do that now, with the petitions we have," Pete suggested. "It's quiet enough now that Miss Anna and I can handle things without you. You might check on the computer; I think Miss Cat has a program that verifies addresses all over the US. If the address pans out, you could use white pages or one of those other on – line sites to verify the name."

"Good idea, Pete!" Miss Anna enthused. "It'll save a Miss Cat a lot of work when she gets home."

Adrian hurried to the office to perform his assignment, remembering to sign out from his time sheet so he wouldn't be using his paid time for his boss's political campaign. He settled in front of the computer in the office and read through each petition, highlighting any names that were questionable. He wanted to get an idea of the number of fake entries he'd have to ferret out.

To his surprise, the number of obvious fake names wasn't as large as he'd feared. 'I'm going to check them out against the programs anyway, just to be sure. It won't take that long!'

He pulled up one window for the on – line white pages, and another for the address verification program. Using the copy/paste feature, he was able to quickly check each entry for validity. After the entries were verified, he made a separate list of the suspect names and addresses, adding how they were determined to be suspect.

'That should help the clerk's office know that she's serious about playing fair!' Adrian sighed, printing the report and adding it to the top of the signed petitions. He stored them in a box and placed the box on top of the file cabinet, where it would be easily found.

The desk phone buzzed and he picked up the receiver. "You OK back there?" Pete inquired.

"Yup, all done," Adrian reported. "Thought I'd sign back in for the rest of my shift if that's OK."

"Man! I completely forgot about staying off the clock for the political stuff! If you want to make up the time now, you can, but if you'd rather do it tomorrow, that's OK with me."

"I'd just as soon do it now and get it over with," Adrian decided.

"OK. Why don't you get started on the baked goods for tomorrow? We're running low on everything."

"Gotcha!" Adrian stated. He replaced the receiver and headed into the kitchen, stopping at the sink to thoroughly wash his hands before slipping his hands into his own set of baking gloves. He selected several packages of frozen dough from the freezer, and set about the baking process. All he had to do was let the dough thaw enough to separate the pre cut pieces, place them on a baking sheet, and put them in the oven.

Once the delicacies were baked, he set them on a rack to cool. While the fresh baked items cooled, he set the next batch into the oven. The cooled but still warm confections were wrapped in plastic and labeled, then set on a high shelf for use the next day.

By the end of his makeup time, Adrian had finished quite a number of treats. The batches that he'd brought out but didn't bake were placed in the refrigerator to keep fresh until either Pete or CJ could bake them.

He stepped out into the customer area to find the usual afternoon crowd present. Pete and CJ had everything under control, but he checked in with Pete as a courtesy, in case his help was needed.

"We're cool, Adrian. Thanks for tackling both of those jobs," Pete assured him.

"Any word about Miss Cat?" He inquired. "Yeah. The bandage came off her eye. She can see. Dr. Knowles called in with the news earlier."

Adrian held up his hand in the 'high five' signal, which Pete returned with a hearty smack. "Thank God! When's she comin' back?"

"She didn't say. There's a few other tests they're doing, so it might be another day or two." Pete explained.

"Think I'll go by there and visit, just fill her in on stuff, unless you've already done so."

"Why not just go visit, period? She'd probably appreciate that more than an update about the business," Pete suggested.

"OK. See you tomorrow, then." Adrian returned to the back area, signed out, and left through the back entrance. He'd do exactly as Pete had recommended, and pay a visit to his boss. He suspected that everyone on the staff would visit her at one time or another.

---

Tig slid under the bottom rope of the squared circle, grinning with triumph over his victory against Kozik. He held out his gloved hands to Miles, who'd come up to congratulate him on the win. Miles untied the gloves and handed a towel to the SAA.

"Way to go, Tig! I think you surprised him with a couple of those moves!"

"I know I did. Guy's gone soft up there in Washington," Tig muttered, wiping the sweat and a little blood from his face. He glanced back at Kozik, who was lying on his back in the ring from the knock out punch Tig had delivered that had ended the fight.

"I'm proud of you, Teeg," Lumpy added. "You didn't bite once!"

"Didn't have to," He replied.

"Vat vere some of dose moves you did? You didn't learn dem from me!"

"No. Learned 'em from my old lady. She's into 'tai – chi'."

"Hmm. It's different," Lumpy mused, assisting Kozik to his feet and out of the ring.

Kozik accepted Miles' help out of the gloves and a clean towel. Tig had managed to reopen the wound around his eye, which bled profusely. A similar cut above his other eye was bleeding heavily. He looked much worse than he had before the fight. 'So much for moppin' the floor with him! He really put the smack down on me!' Kozik mused wryly. He hurt in places he didn't even know he'd had places! "Can he do that, Lumpy?"

"Vhat?"

"Use martial arts in boxing." Kozik retorted. "

There are no rules for or against it, Hoiman. Granted, you two veren't having an official fight. It vas just a friendly swapping of punches, so de established rules don't apply."

Kozik sighed and flopped down on the bench next to Tig.

The SAA had already put his cuffs and rings back on, and was briskly rubbing his sweaty hair dry with a towel.

Kozik was shirtless, and held a wet cloth to the left side of his face.

"Stay dere, Hoiman. I'll get de first aid kit und patch you up," Lumpy instructed, heading for the office to retrieve the kit.

Sebastian hovered near the bench where the two patched members were sitting, clutching Tig's cut in his arms. He hoped to finally be able to ask Tig for a moment outside the gym, or at least in the lobby, so he could turn in his cut.

Tig stood up and threw the damp towel at Sebastian, who caught it with one hand and held it with two fingers. Tig gazed at the two prospects, giving Miles the 'stink eye' for asking if he was OK to drive - or not - given the circumstances.

Sebastian's heart leapt when Tig wagged his index finger at the two prospects and told them to follow him.

'Yes! Yes! Yes!' His happiness was short - lived when Tig volunteered him to stay at the gym to guard Lumpy. His heart sank into his shoes when Tig explained it would be an all night assignment.

"B – but, b – but!" Sebastian stammered, unable to fully articulate his feelings.

Tig merely glared at the prospect, daring him to turn down the assignment. He pointed out Lumpy's studio apartment, which meant Sebastian would spend the night at the gym.

Sebastian couldn't find the words to tell Tig he wanted to quit. Not with the Miles standing there.

Kozik, still sweating and bleeding, had pulled his shirt and cut back on and joined them. Sebastian couldn't gather up enough courage to refuse the assignment, which would automatically dismiss him from the club. His feet seemed rooted to the floor and his mouth refused to work.

His eyes widened with apprehension when Tig handed over a loaded gun to him. He didn't know the first thing about handling a gun! His stomach turned over when Tig informed him if he fired it, the gun was his.

Miles sensed Sebastian's agitation. He knew something had been bothering the kid all day. He'd been as skittish as a newborn colt, which wasn't like him at all. 'He's scared to stay here on his own, and he's too afraid of the consequences to let the guys know it!'

Miles offered to stay with Sebastian, but Kozik overruled that idea. Miles shrugged but tried to leave Sebastian with an encouraging word or two.

Sebastian assured Miles he could handle the assignment, though flop sweat covered his face. He had stuffed the gun into the inner pocket of his cut and was holding his arms crossed about his chest, as if his arms were the only things holding his innards in his body.

Sebastian watched the trio walk outside, but it wasn't until the sound of Harleys roaring to life outside that he snapped back to attention. 'What the fuck am I doin'? I should've spoken up while I had the chance! Now I've gotta wait until tomorrow to quit, and I've got a really bad feelin' about this!'

---

It amused Tara to no end that Margaret believed the clinic visit she set up was actually for the doctor. The only other person in Charming who knew she was pregnant was Gemma, and she was on the way to Belfast.

Tara had yet to come to a definitive decision whether to keep or abort the baby. She appreciated that her former adversary was now bending over backwards to assist her, instead of making her work life difficult as she had in the recent past.

'It'll be quite a surprise to her when I come in to work tomorrow. Really don't know why I didn't correct her when she told me she was clearing my schedule. I'm sure the surgical clerks were annoyed to have to re shuffle the work again.' Tara was going to take Lyla to the clinic. Though it was an out patient procedure, the patient was always cautioned against driving or operating any other kind of equipment afterward.

The women remained quiet during the short drive to the clinic, each intent on their own thoughts. Lyla didn't seem to appreciate the humor in the name Margaret had used to secure the appointment for her. She merely nodded when Tara explained the appointment was under the name of 'Sarah Palin'.

It wasn't until they were sitting in the waiting room that Lyla went into more detail about her decision to abort the baby she and Ope had created. Most evident was that Lyla still felt she was battling Donna's ghost. While she wanted to have a child with Opie, so their relationship would truly be 'Yours, Mine, and Ours', this pregnancy had come about much too soon.

"After all, we've only been together a few weeks and are still getting to know each other. Throwing another child into the works just wouldn't be right," Lyla stated. "There's also the fact that Opie strikes me as the type who'd be against the idea of giving up his child for adoption."

Tara found that difficult to believe. Given the way that Opie had been treating – or not treating – his kids since Donna's death. He barely saw them or spoke to them, allowing both Piney and Mary to take care of them for the first three weeks. 'Hell, Lyla seems to be more of the caregiver for them than Opie!'

"I know what you're thinking, Tara. We've talked about kids, and about how Ope's been shutting his kids out," Lyla observed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – "

Lyla placed a comforting hand on Tara's shoulder.

"Hey, it's OK. You could only go by what you've seen. Opie admitted that it's been hard for him to be around the kids; he sees so much of Donna in them that it hurts him. That's another reason that I think it's best to do this; I don't want his kids to feel any more abandoned than they do now."

Tara was impressed with the porn star's unexpected insights. She wanted to say something, but wasn't sure how to put her feelings into words that wouldn't sound insulting.

Lyla misunderstood the doctor's silence and commented wryly about being a porn star/baby killer. Tara explained that she didn't think that way about the girl at all.

Lyla smiled slightly at that just as the nurse called for 'Sarah Palin'. She acknowledged the nurse, stood up, and walked with her head held high towards the treatment rooms, leaving Tara alone in the lobby.

Tara thought some more about her own situation, and about Margaret's opinion against her having Jax's child. Not, to her surprise, because of Jax's affiliation with the club, but because of Tara's own uncertainties. Her words about it being an unstable environment for a baby made a lot of sense to her. She stood up and asked the receptionist if she could schedule an appointment. The receptionist handed her a clipboard to fill out. Tara stared at the form for a few moments, then resolutely printed the name 'June Stahl' on the form under patient name.

---

"Take me to my woman's coffeehouse," Tig instructed Filthy Phil.

"Why?"

"Because I want some coffee!" He growled.

"We have some at the garage," Phil replied.

"Listen, asshole! I'm not goin' back to the garage today! Kozik's on my nerves, I can't get anything done, and I need to check in with Cat's people! You do remember that the club has a stake in it?"

"Oh, yeah! That's right!" Phil turned the van towards Main Street. His face was flushed with embarrassment over his mistake.

Tig rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. 'I can't believe we voted these guys in as prospects! At this rate, none of 'em are gonna make it through the week, much less their year!'

Phil brought the van to a halt in the customer pick up zone in front of 'Charming Pawse'. Before he could shut off the ignition, Tig told him not to bother. "You're goin' back to the clubhouse," he announced.

"But how are you going to get back?" Phil asked.

"I'll hitch a ride with one of Cat's employees," he explained, sliding out of the van.

"Won't they mind?"

"What did I just say?" Tig snarled. Phil held up his hands in resignation. "OK. See ya." He put the van in drive and rushed away as if the devil were pursuing him. 'Man! He's mean when he doesn't get a decent cup of brew first thing!'

Tig snorted and turned to the entry. He was surprised to see a larger number of customers than normal for that time of day. 'It can't be time for the after school rush!' He strode into the coffee shop and glanced around, taking in the number of adults present.

A few looked up and actually waved at him. Several more inquired into Cat's condition at the hospital as he tried to advance to the counter. He finally moved to the platform and gave that loud, piercing whistle that had hurt Cat's ears a few days earlier. The rumble of voices came to an abrupt halt. The only sound came from the stereo, which was playing Alanis Morrisette's 'You Learn'.

As soon as he heard Tig's piercing whistle, Pete moved to shut off the stereo. The silence that followed was deafening.

"OK, listen up!" He glanced at the expectant faces, cleared his throat, and continued, "Appreciate your concern for my wife. There's good news, the bandage came off her injured eye today and she didn't lose sight in it!"

A loud cheer met that announcement. It was rare for him to be on the receiving end of the civilians' approval. Even though that current approval was obtained vicariously through his relationship with Cat, it still felt pretty good.

"Any idea when she's getting out of the hospital?" One of the new visitors to the coffeehouse called out.

"Dunno yet. I'm headin' over there in awhile to find out," he replied.

"Tell her we're all thinking about her and wish her well!" The same voice called.

Tig felt a sudden lump in his throat that prevented him from being able to speak. He nodded, then loudly cleared his throat and uttered a choked, "Thanks." He stepped away from the platform to move to the counter.

The crowd made a path for him, returning to their interrupted conversations. Pete turned the stereo back on as soon as Tig stepped away from the platform. He selected the cassette mode and started a different tape that was ready to go instead of allowing the previous selection to start up where it left off.

"Has it been like this all day?" Tig asked Pete when he reached the counter.

Pete placed a large cup of black coffee in front of the biker. "Pretty much. We've probably got more than enough signatures on the petitions to turn in to the clerk's office. Adrian went through the signatures and checked to make sure they're valid. He weeded out any fakes."

Tig nodded, sliding a bill across the counter to Pete for his coffee. He leaned against the counter while sipping his coffee, watching the crowd enjoying what the store had to offer. "How's the furry ones?" He inquired, glancing at the window where Ming and Ebony were showing off for the customers.

"The two older ones seem to be in their element," Pete grinned. "Misty is hiding. I think she misses her people."

"I accept that," Tig replied, quoting his friend Chuckie. "I miss a particular person, too. That's the other reason why I'm here. Got a small problem one of ya can help with."

"What's that, Mr. Tig?"

"My license got suspended, can't drive or ride for awhile. Need a ride to the hospital," he explained gruffly.

"Gosh! Wish you'd been here a little bit ago! Adrian just left to go visit Miss Cat!" Pete exclaimed. "It's going to be awhile before either of us can get away."

"No problem. I'll just call one of the prospects to take me." "No you don't!" Pete retorted, picking up the phone and dialing Adrian's cell number. "Just give me a second!"

Tig waggled his eyebrows in mock ferocity at Pete. The assistant manager wasn't fazed by the biker's expression . The biker's grin indicated he appreciated Pete's help.

"Yo, Adrian!" Pete stated into the phone. "Are you in the car?"

"Not yet. Need my help after all?"

"Yes, but not in the way you think. Mr. Tig's here. He needs a ride to the hospital."

"Tell him he can drive the PT," Tig murmured.

"I heard. That's cool. Tell him I'll meet him at the driveway," Adrian replied.

Pete relayed the message to Tig, who downed the last of his coffee and ambled to the back entrance of the building. He walked across the back yard to the back door of the house, letting himself in long enough to retrieve Cat's set of keys to the car. He locked the house and reached the driveway just as Adrian pulled up in front of the house and parked on the street. Tig unlocked the PT and leaned against the fender while Adrian walked up the drive to join him. "Got a reason for havin' ya drive this, kid."

"I figured as much," Adrian replied, accepting the key from the biker.

"We're gonna leave the car in the parking lot for Cat, so that she can get herself home when she's released," Tig explained.

"OK, but how're we gonna get back?" Tig shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He'd forgotten about that! Then he grinned and cuffed Adrian on the shoulder. "No problem. One of the prospects will pick us up in the garage van, bring us back here."

Adrian accepted the logic and climbed behind the steering wheel, taking a moment to get accustomed to the location of the pedals and controls.

Tig slid into the passenger seat and waited expectantly for Adrian to start the car. "Don't be nervous, kid. I don't bite the hired help, unless ya give me good reason."

"I'll keep that under advisement," Adrian gulped, starting the ignition. The PT roared to life, and Adrian put in the correct gear to get out of the driveway. He relaxed once they'd reached the end of the street and Tig hadn't growled any warnings at him.

---

Sebastian rode along with Lumpy when he made his nightly deposit and grocery run. He took keeping Lumpy safe literally, and refused to allow the former Olympian to run his errands on his own.

"Do you have any preferences in food?" Lumpy inquired at the door of the grocery.

"Don't worry about me. I can grab some take out on the way back."

"Bah! Take out food doesn't nourish. I'll get you sumting vorth eating!" Lumpy went to the deli, but this time, instead of liverwurst, he selected carved roast beef, pastrami, turkey, and a couple of different cheeses.

"Having a Dagwood sandwich tonight, Lump?" The deli employee grinned, handing over the white paper packages.

"Sumting like dat," he murmured.

"You got dem big Kosher dill pickles?"

"Naturally. Got a fresh batch today. Nice and crisp."

"Gimme two." From the deli, Lumpy stopped at the deli, this time obtaining a large loaf of fresh baked French bread. He then purchased two cans of soup to go with the sandwiches. Because he felt it was a special occasion, he selected a frozen New York Deli – style cheesecake.

Sebastian remained near the front of the store, roaming so that Lumpy was always within his sight. He stood at the end of the checkout lane, while Lumpy paid for his purchases. He helped bag the purchases, making sure to keep the bread from getting squashed, and carried the bags out to Lumpy's car, storing them in the back seat.

Upon returning to the gym, Lumpy parked the car in back, and covered it with the tarp while Sebastian stood guard. Then they walked into the darkened building through the back entrance.

Sebastian carried the bags into Lumpy's apartment, placing them on the table. While dinner was being prepared, the prospect patrolled the inside, checking windows and doors.

Lumpy felt some sympathy for the young man. He could appreciate how overwhelmed the prospect felt over the job he'd been given. He sensed Sebastian wasn't comfortable carrying a gun, and even less comfortable with his role in the MC. His theory was confirmed when Sebastian returned to the little apartment after his patrol.

"Everything seems OK for now. Not that I know anything about security," he announced. "Ve all have to learn sometime," Lumpy assured the prospect. "You've done a fine job so far."

"I'm' trying to," Sebastian replied. The soup smelled wonderful making his stomach growl with anticipation. He'd not eaten anything since breakfast.

"Siddown. Soup's ready. You sound hungry!"

Sebastian grinned ruefully. "Just a little." He raised the beer bottle Lumpy had set in front of him in a salute and applied himself to the meal. Though simple, the food was satisfying. "I just hope things stay quiet tonight," he observed between mouthfuls.

"Ve can alvays hope. If sumting is going to happen, it vill be much later, vhen dey tink ve are relaxed and our guard is down."

After the meal was over and the dishes cleared, Lumpy suggested they relax. "Vhy don't ve vatch a leedle teevee, keep our minds off tings?" Lumpy inquired.

"I'd probably better patrol outside."

"Eh, you could. But you'd be stumbling around in de dark und probably hurt yourself. Best to stay inside."

Sebastian couldn't argue with the other man's logic, so he remained inside and they watched television while sharing more beer and conversation. Sebastian felt comfortable enough to explain to Lumpy why he was quitting the MC.

"It's just not what I feel is right for me. Once this job is complete, I'm turning in my cut."

"Und you know dat once you do dat, you can't go back," Lumpy reminded him.

"I know. I've given it a lot of thought. I just hope Tig and the others won't consider me a coward."

"So vhat if dey do?" Lumpy stated. "You are doing a very brave ting in standing up for what you believe in. If it's not de right fit for you, better to admit dat now, instead of having to live vith a bad decision de rest of your life."

Sebastian appreciated the older man's words. He had to agree that a true coward would just tuck his tail between his legs and plod along in an uncomfortable situation, just to keep from being labeled. He felt better about himself than he had since Chibs gave him that much needed verbal dressing down.

"So how'd you get to be a friend of the club, anyway?" Sebastian asked, getting up to get more beer for them. "

It's not dat exciting a story," Lumpy explained. "I moved here decades ago, seeking a new start, found dis building, set up de gym, and opened her up for business. Teeg and Kozik were prospects at the time. Dey vere very young and sumtimes very foolish."

Word of Lumpy's Gym, along with the training he offered in boxing, spread through Charming like wildfire. By the end of the first week, there were enough one year memberships taken out to put him in the black.

At the beginning of the second week, two young men rode up on Harleys. One was dark -, the other light - haired. Both were tall and wore leather vests with a patch that read 'Prospect' on the back. A smaller patch with the same word was on the left front of their vests. The two walked into the building like they owned it. Power and danger crackled like lig

htning from the dark - haired one. Grown men twice his bulk shied away from him. The blond, though built the same as the dark - haired man, seemed a little more approachable. The two walked up to Lumpy and stood directly in front of him with their arms crossed over their chests. Neither spoke, they just stared at him.

Lumpy met their gazes without flinching. The dark - haired man looked at his companion, then back at Lumpy. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but Lumpy felt like he was a bug being examined under a microscope.

"I'm Tig. This is Kozik. We're Sons," the dark - haired man announced.

"Most men are," Lumpy replied.

Tig barked a nasty laugh. "Not funny. Where'd you come from, old man?"

"I just moved here from Southern California," Lumpy stated.

"Well, So Cal," Kozik replied, his smile not reaching his eyes, "We're a different kind of Sons. We're Sons of Anarchy."

A red haze settled in front of Lumpy's vision. First the Nazis' in his homeland, then the Mafia in his adopted city, now another gang was trying to muscle in on what he'd built! Not this time! "If it's protection money you're looking for, den you just keep go elsevhere!" Lumpy ordered tersely.

Tig held up his hands. "Relax, Pops. We're not here to cause trouble, and we're not lookin' for protection money. Nothin' to protect ya from, anyway."

"Yeah," the blonde added. "We're here cause we heard ya had a good gym set up, complete with boxin' ring. Our clubhouse's got a workout room, but it gets crowded sometimes."

Lumpy crossed his arms and gazed at the pair. The dark - haired one looked like he knew how to hold his own in a fight. He was a little older than the blonde. "Do you two box?"

"We've fought our share of fights," the dark - haired man admitted. "Mostly bare knuckle."

"Bah! Dat's not boxing! I'm talking about boxing. Using gloves, yes. But it also involves style, footvork, endurance, und skill!"

"Ya talk like it's some kinda art, old man!" Kozik laughed.

Tig slapped the back of Kozik's head. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Show some respect! Didn't ya see that bronze medal in the display case?"

Kozik rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah. What about it?"

"Dumbass! That's an Olympic medal, for fuck's sake!" Tig turned his gaze back to the gym owner. "That belong to you?"

"Vho else?" Lumpy replied, falling into the time honored Jewish manner of answering a question with a question. "And kindly vatch your language!"

The blonde's eyes widened in surprise and anticipation. He expected his friend to go ballistic at the gym owner's warning about his language.

Lumpy looked around the gym. His clients had moved a safe distance from him and the two Sons, watching the exchange with interest. Lumpy had a feeling if the confrontation escalated, he'd be on his own.

Tig removed his sunglasses and stuck one of the frames in his vest pocket. "You're not from around here, are ya?"

"I moved here from Southern California," Lumpy replied guardedly.

"Yeah, but that's not your original home," Tig insisted. "I'd say European from your accent,"

"Und you can tell by my accent because?" Lumpy challenged.

"I did a stint in the Marines. Got around a lot overseas and heard a lot of dialects. Plus, that ink on your arm makes you Jewish," the biker replied.

Lumpy smiled grimly. "You're observant."

"Stay alert, stay alive," Tig grinned.

"So where does a guy go to take out a membership?" Kozik added.

Lumpy sold them memberships and signed them up for boxing lessons. Tig took to boxing like a fish to water. It was obvious to Lumpy that he had previous training. Kozik had a wild side to him that got him in trouble both in and out of the ring. His temper would always get the best of him, causing him to lose every bout.

Both Tig and Kozik took a liking to Lumpy from that first day. Once he realized how serious they were as students, Lumpy came to accept that he'd become a father figure to the pair. Several other members of the MC took out memberships, though none of those full patched members saw the need to take lessons.

"I really enjoyed de friendship vith Teeg und Kozik. It broke my heart vhen dey had dat falling out und Kozik transferred North. Seeing dem together today brought back so much!" Lumpy sighed. He looked at the clock over the television. "It's late. I'm going to bed. Do you vant a blanket and pillow for de couch?"

"Nah," Sebastian assured him,stretching and yawning as he stood up. "I'll just keep watch out front. That's what Tig and Koz expect from me." He wished he could get some coffee, as his full stomach and the beer he'd consumed made him extremely drowsy. 'Maybe walking around for awhile will keep me awake!'

Sebastian crept out the door and closed it behind him while Lumpy prepared for sleep. The prospect walked around the gym, checking doors and windows. He ventured outside, checked the doors and windows all around the building, then returned inside and checked the interior once more before sitting down on one of the benches. 'Everything's fine. I can rest my eyes a few minutes,' he thought drowsily. His eyes slid shut and he was soon snoring heavily.

Lumpy lay on his bed, thinking about his 'boys'. He'd missed Kozik and hoped that he and Tig would mend their fences before too long. 'After all, some day, dis vill be all theirs. If dey haven't mended tings by den, they'll be forced to vork together!'

---

"Y'know, kid, It's possible that Cat will be asleep when we get to her room," Alex cautioned the employee. They had just gotten off the elevator to her floor, and were making their way down the hall. He was trying not to look at the stuffed animal Adrian carried in his arm. He knew the kid meant it for a present to cheer his wife, but the furry doll gave him the willies.

"I know, but if she's awake, I can update her on work stuff, save her a call, and get out of your hair so you can have private time with her!" Adrian smirked.

"Smart man," Alex grinned approvingly.

They stopped in front of the door to Cat's room. Alex could see from the window that the room was fairly dark, but the television was on as the light had a blue glow to it. "She's there. Just remember that while the eye bandage is gone, she's still pretty banged up. Don't make a big deal of it," he warned Adrian before opening the door.

They slipped inside and stood just in front of the door, allowing their eyes to readjust to the dim light.

Cat was lying on the bed, in a slight reclining position. Her glasses were off, so they could tell that her eyes were closed. Alex winced to see the bandage supporting her broken nose and the dark bruising on her face that resembled Ming's mask.

"She looks better than she did with the eye bandage removed," Adrian whispered.

"True dat, but she's still got a way to go," Alex murmured back. 'Wonder if that head doctor's been in yet?'

"All y'all can quit whisperin' and get on over here!" The patient called grumpily.

"Sorry, baby. We were tryin' not to disturb you!" Alex replied contritely. "Adrian's here; he wanted to catch ya up on the business. Thought I'd make a snack run while you two talk. Do ya want anything?"

"If that kiosk is open, another white chocolate would be nice," she replied.

"Shit! You're gonna turn into white chocolate if ya aren't careful!" He grinned slyly and added, "Come to think of it, that would be kinda fun!"

"TMI, you two!' Adrian squeaked, pushing his index fingers into his ears.

"Haven't I told y'all before not to torment my employees?" Cat added in a mock growl.

"Yeah, but lucky for me, you're in no position to do anything about it!" Alex laughed, leaning in to kiss her soundly before darting away from any punishment she might try to meter out. "I'll be back!" he added, striding towards the door.

"That's the problem," Cat muttered just loud enough for Adrian to hear.

He grinned and presented her with the stuffed black cat he'd purchased in the gift shop. "I thought you might be missing your cats, and this one was sitting all lonesome looking on the shelf," he explained, pulling up a chair to sit by the bed.

'I'm surprised Alex was willin' to walk next to him while he held that!' Cat observed to herself. She put her glasses on and studied the plush toy. It didn't look anything like Misty or Ebony, but it did look lonesome to her as well. She gave it a pat and placed it on her lap. "Thanks, darlin'. How's things at the store?"

"Really good. We had increased traffic today, likely due to the newspaper and other media reports," he replied. He filled her in on the busy day the coffeehouse had experienced. "I also checked through the petitions and weeded out the fakes."

"I'm glad someone thought of that. Wasn't lookin' forward to that particular job myself!" She remarked. "How bad was it?"

"Not even a page full. Some were pretty obvious, like 'Lucy Van Pelt' and 'Machete'. Others were a little more realistic looking. That database you have that verifies addresses really helped."

"Sounds like there shouldn't be any problem to gettin' on the primary ballot," Cat replied

"Sure seems that way. I've been working on some poster ideas for you. Though we'd probably go over them when you get out?"

Cat smiled good naturedly. "That's one way to ask when I'm gettin' out of here. The answer is that I don't know yet. The doctors wanted to run another test, just to make sure everything's in good working order."

"Everybody misses you, Miss Cat. And you would've been real happy to see the reception Mr. Tig got from the customers when he stopped in today!"

"No one shied away from him?"

"Nope. They were waving 'Hello' and even asked him how you were feeling. He made a little speech from the platform to let the customers know your injured eye was all right!"

"Oh, to have seen that!" Cat grinned wickedly. "I'm sure Mr. Pete will record it from the surveillance video for you," Adrian assured her.

While Adrian was updating his employer on business, Alex went to the cafeteria to find something for lunch. The coffee and some of the food wasn't to his liking, but the cafeteria did offer a wide variety of desserts that were nearly as good as the coffeehouse's Snicker Bar confections.

Before entering the cafeteria, he pulled pulled out the pre pay and called the clubhouse to arrange a ride for Adrian. The cafeteria was pretty deserted at that hour. Only a few hospital employees were around, and they were too far away to pay any attention to him.

"Are you comin' back, too?" Miles inquired.

"Did I say 'pick us up'?" Tig snarled.

"No. You said to pick up Adrian and take him back to your house so he can get his car," Miles replied.

"Then that should tell ya I'm stayin' here!"

"Gotcha. We'll be out front waiting."

"Who's we? Ya got a mouse in your pocket? Only need one driver to take the kid back. Have Filthy drive the van."

"OK." Miles winced as the connection dropped. "Hey, Phil!"

"What?" Phil's voice rumbled from the locker room. "Van duty! Tig needs ya to drive one of his old lady's employees from the hospital back to their house!"

"Tig comin' too?"

"Nope. Just the employee."

"OK. I'm outta here," Phil strode past the bar where Miles was working and on out to the parking lot. The keys to the garage van lay in the palm of his hand. He had one finger stuck in the key ring and flipped the key ring around his finger as his walked.

Alex grinned at the obvious discomfort in Miles voice as he turned off the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. . 'Guess I shouldn't enjoy that as much as I do. But it's too much fun!'

He turned his attention to food and filling the big empty in his stomach. He opted for a couple of deli – style sandwiches and a large slice of chocolate cake. The servers put the cake in a Styrofoam box for him so he could safely carry it back to Cat's room.

He made a stop at the kiosk, and sighed with relief that the gum chewing barista was absent. The other barista was also gone, but the one that took his order and made the drink was pleasant and efficient. She even produced a bag for his wrapped sandwiches and cake box, to make it easier for him to carry them with the hot coffee drink.

He returned to Cat's room just as Dr. Gallagher was approaching. Another doctor Alex didn't recognize followed Gallagher. "Hey, doc! How's my girl?"

"That's what we're planning to discuss, Mr. Trager. This is Dr. DeSoto, from Stockton. He's the neurological consult." Alex nodded at the doctor, holding up his full hands to indicate why he wasn't recognizing the social niceties.

"How about I get the door for you?" DeSoto offered with a grin.

"Appreciate it." Alex led them into the room, setting the bag on the bedside table and handing the coffee cup to Cat. "Hate to interrupt your confab, Adrian, these doctors wanna talk to us about my girl."

Adrian stood up, pulling the key to the PT out of his pocket and handed it across to Cat. "Mr. Tig let me drive the PT; it's in the parking lot. He thought if you get out any time soon, you'd want a way home, given the circumstances."

"I always knew he had a good brain holdin' his ears apart!" Cat exclaimed, sticking the key ring and the stuffed animal in the bedside drawer next to her.

"I resemble that remark, woman!" Alex growled. "The garage van is dark blue, a GMC. The prospect comin' to get ya is a big guy named Filthy Phil. He'll be waitin' in the lane out front," he added to Adrian.

"OK. Thanks, Mr. Tig. See you later, Miss Cat."

"Thanks for the info, Adrian. Tell the staff I said to behave," Cat added.

"That's no fun!" Adrian snickered as he headed for the door.

The doctors waited for the door to close behind Adrian. Alex slid onto the bed next to Cat, placing a protective arm around her shoulder. He was pleased to see that the cast on her arm had been replaced with a soft, removable covering. 'That's another good sign."

"Mrs. Trager, this is Dr. DeSoto, he's a neurological specialist from Stockton," Dr. Gallagher explained, introducing the new doctor to her.

"Hope it didn't surprise all y'all to find out I actually have a brain!" She quipped.

Alex cringed. "C'mon, baby! Get serious!"

"Actually, a sense of humor is a good thing," Dr. DeSoto assured him. "We ran a full MRI and CT scan on you, Mrs. Trager. The chronic fatigue you mentioned made both Drs. Smythe and Gallagher concerned enough to call me in."

"Is it bad news, doc?" Alex asked worriedly. His grip on Cat's shoulder tightened just a bit. She patted his knee reassuringly.

"No, Mr. Trager. There's nothing serious to worry about."

Alex frowned intently. "What do ya mean by that?"

"May I?" Dr. DeSoto pointed to the foot of the bed. He sat at the foot of the bed at Cat's wave of invitation, so that he could face the couple more easily. "Anytime that there's a head injury, no matter how minor, there's always cause for concern. The headaches and fatigue your wife has complained of are often symptoms of more serious matters."

"Like a blood clot," Cat interjected.

"There is that possibility. Sometimes it's just a matter of pressure building up between the brain and the skull. Pressure that has to be released surgically if drug therapy doesn't dissolve it."

She nodded and glanced at Alex. "Kinda like we feared might happen to Chibs a few weeks ago," she explained.

"Are ya sayin' she needs more surgery?" Alex could barely get the words out.

"No, she doesn't. There's no fluid build up, and no brain trauma," Dr. DeSoto assured him.

"Then what's causin' the headaches and tiredness?" Cat asked. "Well, I know the anemia is causin' the fatigue."

"We gave you an iron infusion when you were first admitted, and a second one a few hours later for the anemia," Dr. Gallagher supplied. "Your red cell count doubled after the second one, so the fatigue should be less of an issue."

"Doesn't seem to me like it's helped. I'm still pretty damn tired!"

"Because you do too damn much, woman!" Alex growled. "I've been tryin' to get her to take it easy, but she doesn't obey well," he explained to the doctors. "Owtch! No fair usin' elbows in close proximity!"

"All's fair in love and war, my love," Cat smirked.

"OK, you two, if you can't play nice, I'll have to separate you!" Dr. Gallagher warned laughingly. "Your husband does have a point, Cat."

She glared at the doctor, waggling her elbow in a threatening manner.

"Seriously, Cat, think about it. Just a few nights ago, you were in our ICU following a horrendous crash. You checked yourself out of here the minute we downgraded you to fair condition and have pushed yourself past your body's tolerance ever since."

Dr. DeSoto nodded in agreement. "The body has it's own defense mechanism, and yours shut itself down when your energy was depleted. That's what caused the deep sleep. The best cure for it is to rest, and rest often."

Cat glared at Alex, "Do not even think of sayin' 'I told y'all so'!"

"And get another elbow in the ribs? How stupid do ya think I am, woman?"

"Better not answer that!" Dr. Gallagher advised. "A man can only take so much ribbing!"

She winced at the pun. "So what's the game plan? Do I get to go home today?"

"No," Dr. DeSoto replied. "Sorry to disappoint you. I'd like to keep you here one more night."

"But - "

Dr. Gallagher held up his hand to stop her protest. "It's not going to kill you to stay here another night, Cat. The rest will do you a lot of good."

"You've obviously never tried to sleep in a hospital!" She complained. "Only place that wakes ya up to take a sleepin' pill!"

"Quit bitchin' and do what the doctor says, will ya, baby?" Alex pleaded. "I'll stay with ya if it'll make ya feel any better."

She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder. "You know it will, damn you!"

---

Sebastian's felt sick to his stomach. He'd fled from Lumpy's gym the minute the vandal's motorcycle engine started up, leaving the businessman laying on the floor. Lumpy had been knocked out by the vandal and was bleeding from a head wound. He knew he needed to call 911 to get help for Lumpy, but he didn't dare do it from the gym, nor from his cell phone. Both would be too easy to trace. He had to get away from the scene of the incident and find a pay phone where he could call for help.

He scrambled on hands and knees to the bench where his cut and the gun had fallen, gathered them up, and checked to make sure Lumpy was still alive. He detected a very faint pulse in the unconscious man's neck.

'He's alive! No thanks to me!' He ran out the broken front door and around the building to where he'd parked his Harley behind Lumpy's tarp covered car. He started the engine, tightened his helmet, and roared away from the building.

Sebastian was shaking so hard that he could barely control the bike. It fishtailed from one side to the other so that he nearly laid it down. 'Get hold of yourself, asshole! You've gotta find a payphone and find it quick!' He eased up enough on the throttle so he could straighten the bike and keep moving.

The Hispanic vandal had long disappeared. Sebastian had no idea which direction the criminal had taken, and didn't want to know. All he wanted to do was find a phone. He hadn't meant to doze off while on guard duty. Having a full stomach and a little too much beer had taken its' toll on him. He'd only meant to sit down and rest his eyes for a few moments!

'If I'd just moved faster when I heard the glass break and gotten to Lumpy's room in time, he wouldn't have gone out to confront the vandal!' he admonished himself. "All I could do was hide like a coward while he did my job and got hurt!'

He sighed with relief to come upon a closed gas station. Wonder of wonders, there was a pay phone near the air pump! He pulled up next to the phone, shut off his bike, and dialed 911.

"911, what is your emergency?" The dispatcher inquired.

"There's been a break in at Lumpy's Gym on Liberty Street. Some Hispanic sounding man shoot up the joint and attacked Lumpy! He's hurt bad! Send help!" He cried into the mouthpiece and hung up before the dispatcher could ask any questions.

"I hope they get there fast!" He prayed. He climbed back onto his Harley and rode straight to the Teller - Morrow lot.

'I'm done for in this town. I'm gonna have to get out of here before sunrise. If Lumpy dies, Tig and Kozik will kill me!' He left his bike running and walked over to the tow truck. He placed the gun Tig had given him on the hood. Then he removed his cut, folded it lengthwise, and placed it next to the gun.

Tears filled his eyes as he shuffled back to his motorcycle, which he'd left idling in neutral. 'This wasn't the way I planned to leave, but there's no other way!' He mounted his bike, put it in gear, and raced out of the lot, leaving a trail of rubber in his wake.