Charming Pawse 316 Widening Gyre Facing the Music

by wanderingchat

Tig and Cat prepare to face the music when their secret comes out in a very public way. Meanwhile, Tara and Ima deal with their respective emotions from Jax's 'dick move' and Salazar exacts revenge on the Grim Bastards. Is SAMCRO ever going to get to Belfast to rescue Abel? Edited to fix problems

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 16

Facing the Music

Alex couldn't wait any longer for his wife to wake up. There wasn't much time left to them before he was to leave for Belfast. He wanted to talk to her, find out what she planned to do while he was away, other than launching her candidacy for public office.

'After we get back with Abel, I'm gonna have to tell the club about that, and about us bein' married. Last thing I need is for the rest of 'em to hear about it when the rest of the town does.'

He lightly stroked her hair, then nudged her shoulder to get her to wake up. Cat moaned and fidgeted, then settled back to sleep.

"C'mon baby! It's time to wake up!" he wiggled his leg to get her to move.

"Give me one good reason to!" she groaned, snuggling deeper into her comfortable spot on him.

"Because I said so," he grinned. "Not that I'm not enjoyin' this; we can't spend all day in bed!"

She turned so that she faced him and retorted, "Since when wouldn't y'all welcome a chance to spend the day in bed like this?"

He stroked her hair again and grinned wolfishly. "Didn't say I didn't want to, 'specially if you're part of the package, baby!"

"Then what's the problem?"

"You knowthe problem, baby," he explained with a hint of regret in his voice.

"True dat," she sighed resignedly, sliding over to her side of the bed. "Today's gonna be pretty busy for both of us."

Alex immediately regretted the loss of physical contact. His lower extremities suddenly felt cold and isolated. He sighed, accepting it as a necessary evil and watched her stretch and yawn.

'I'm gonna miss that sight, dammit!' He made no effort to hide his appreciation. "Any chance you'll drop by the compound later?" he asked offhandedly.

"Sorry, love. Don't think it's gonna happen. Besides the petition launch and my regular work, I've gotta go to St. Thomas for a check up."

"That won't take all day, will it?"

"It might. But look at the bright side, maybe I'll be whole and hearty and out of all these casts and bandages when y'all get back!"

"That would be nice to come home to!" he remarked. He was relieved and disappointed that she wouldn't be coming to the compound before the club left for Belfast. 'Prolly just as well; don't need the guys ribbin' me about a goodbye scene.'

"Besides, love, it's gonna be difficult for Clay not havin' Gemma around when y'all leave. No sense in my presence rubbin' that in," she added.

Alex reacted with a start to her comment. Sometimes her powers of perception were downright scary to him, no matter how much he appreciated them in the long run.

"Ya know somethin'?" he growled to cover his surprise. "I really hate it when you're right."

"I know you do. It happens, though!" she retorted, a ghost of that impish grin he loved so much appearing in her eyes.

"Too damn often!" he growled again, nuzzling her neck. "So what time do ya have to report to the hospital?"

"After the noon rush. Thought I'd hang out at the coffeehouse, talk to some of the regulars and let them know I'm still alive."

Alex grimaced. 'Dammit! She's as bad as Gem at times!' He'd prefer for her to stay at home and rest until she had to go to the hospital. He knew better than to try to change her mind. "Any idea how you're gettin' there?"

"I was gonna ask June to come over for lunch and bring me back to the hospital," she explained. "Or, if she couldn't tear herself away, borrow one of 'the kids'."

"What the Hell am I? Chopped liver? Why didn't ya think about askin' me?"

She glanced at him in surprise. "Didn't think you'd have time, love."

"I'll make time," he growled. 'Church won't take all day. Just finalizin' shit. I can come back here, take her to the hospital, come back and get my duffel. Then on to Belfast.'

The bedside telephone rang, cutting into his plan to launch a lecherous attack on her person. He glared at the instrument as Cat picked up the receiver.

"Cat speakin'!"

"It's Pete. We might have trouble."

"What's wrong, darlin'?" she sat up, her expression full of concern. "It's Pete," she mouthed at Alex, holding the receiver so he could hear the conversation.

Alex frown grew deeper. Pete wasn't the type to call about a small matter, especially right after the coffeehouse opened. It couldn't be Mayan trouble, but the Calavarez and their president were still a wild card.

"Councilman Croucher saw the petition, Miss Cat," Pete reported quietly. "He's out front on his cell phone."

"Is that all?" Cat grinned, relief evident in her voice.

"Well, he was pretty pissed when he first stepped outside. Now he's smiling like the proverbial cat that ate the canary."

"The fuckwad prolly ratted to Hale," Alex announced.

"Which means he's probably thinking up some kind of mischief as we speak," Cat observed. "Don't worry about it, darlin'. I expected somethin' like this would happen."

"I just wanted you to be forewarned, Miss Cat." Pete explained.

"I know y'all did. Thanks for havin' my back," she replied soothingly. "I'll be in later in time for the noon rush, then again after the hospital gets done with me."

"Hope it goes well, Miss Cat," Pete replied, breaking the connection. 'No reason to tell her what just happened. She doesn't need any more stress.'

A discreet tap at the bedroom door sounded just as Cat returned the receiver to the cradle. "We're decent, June!" she called.

"That's debatable! Especially considerin' that one," June grinned, nodding at Alex as she entered the room. She carried a tray laden with coffee cups. "This is really gettin' to be a habit!"

"One I can get used to!" Alex replied.

"I wouldn't plan on it continuin' after June leaves!" Cat growled, elbowing Alex in the ribs.

"Owtch! Damn, woman!" he grumbled, rubbing the spot she'd jabbed. "Maybe I can negotiate with ya later?"

"Maybe. I'm always up to negotiatin'," she replied.

June rolled her eyes and placed the tray on the table next to the rocker. She passed Alex's cup to Cat, who handed it to him, her eyebrow raised into her bangs. "I see y'all are takin' precautions!"

June threw a mock glare at Alex. "A girl's gotta be careful around that male animal of yours if she wants to escape with her virtue!"

Cat nearly choked on her coffee, earning another mock glare from June. "No snarky comments from the peanut gallery!"

"I'd never dream of such, kittenface!"

"No, y'all would just say it!"

"Can't you two play nice?" Alex grumbled. "Christ! Ya both sound like a pair of cats with their tails tied together!"

Both women favored him with 'the look' which he returned with an innocent 'Who, me?' expression. He hurriedly changed the subject by taking an appreciative sip of coffee. "That hits the spot!"

"I dunno how that boy survived before I came up with the whiskey blends!" Cat observed wryly, taking an equally appreciative sip of her own beverage.

"It was Hell, baby!"

"I'm sure." Cat turned her attention back to her best friend to inquire, "I take it you're gonna give your answer to the hospital brass today?"

June nodded. "Sooner I do, the sooner they can look for a fittin' candidate."

"Doubt they'll find anyone as qualified as you," Cat asserted. "Are y'all sure, kittenface?"

"I'm sure, chick. I'm happy in Florida and with my current position. Maybe I'll be more interested in 'puttin' down roots' later on. If I do, it'll be in Florida, not sunny California."

Alex listened quietly to their light banter. The only other women he'd seen behave like that were Gemma and LuAnn. In his experience, women were on guard with each other whenever a man was in their presence.

"When do ya think you're headin' back, sweetheart?" he ventured, asking the question that he knew his woman couldn't put into words.

She flashed a radiant smile of gratitude at him for having the foresight to ask the question she couldn't. It sent a thrill of delight tinging up his spine to know that smile was for him alone.

June pretended to ignore the couple's behavior. "I've just about finished the work St. Thomas contracted; probably just another couple of days at the most," she explained, looking directly at Alex without so much as a glance at her best friend. 'This is harder to talk about than I expected!'

"So soon?" The question slipped out before Cat could censor it. She'd known June would have to leave eventually.

"That's the way the contract reads, chick," June explained casually. A little too casually. "Much as I'd like to hang around and sight see, I have to leave as soon as possible after the work's done. I called the company last night to have their travel co - coordinator start on my travel papers."

"Wish we'd been a little more hospitable," Cat mourned.

"Hey! Y'all were very accomodatin'!" June protested. "Thanks to your friend, Opie, I got to meet Gerry!"

"True dat," Cat's eye got a dreamy look to it that stirred Alex's possessive tendencies.

"Hmpf!" he grunted irritably.

"Sweetie, meetin' him was just whipped cream on the pie!" June assured him. "Gettin' to meet your fine self was definitely the highlight of my visit!"

"Damn! Get away from me, woman! You're gonna get hit with lightning for that lie!" Alex grinned, though he inwardly preened at her compliment.

Cat rolled her eye to the ceiling and grinned conspiratorially at June. "Still gonna be able to give me a lift home from the hospital today?"

"Sure. How well did the early mornin' crowd take to the petition?"

Cat told her friend about Pete's call. "I fully expect Hale to pull some kind of stunt to get me to change my mind."

"You're the one who wanted to get into the world of politics!" June reminded her unnecessarily.

"Hell, as if I'm afraid of anything Hale can do!" she snorted. "Listen, kittenface, If I can handle Zobelle tryin' to tell me who can work for me, I can deal with the likes of Jacob Hale."

"Don't get cocky, kid," June warned her, relying on Han Solo's admonishment to Luke Skywalker.

"C'mon, June! It's no different than the bullyin' I got in school," Cat retorted. "Bullies are full of hot air. Poke 'em in the right place and they deflate like a limp dick."

His wife's comment made Alex nearly choke on his coffee.

"No comments from the peanut gallery!" Cat warned, wiggling her elbow threateningly.

"I'll leave y'all to your mornin' routine. Just text me when y'all are done at the hospital, chick."

"Later, kittenface." She nodded slightly in response to June's unspoken question, giving permission for her to say an appropriate farewell to Alex.

June walked around the bed to Alex's side, surprising him by giving him a swift but careful hug around the neck, mindful of the wound on his shoulder. "Try to keep her outta trouble, will ya?"

"Sweetheart, that's a full time job!" Alex replied, returning the embrace. "Keep in touch."

"And y'all be careful across the pond," she admonished over her shoulder as she walked to the door. "Good luck with that retrieval."

"Thanks, sweetheart!"

Cat stared after June as she walked down the hall. She couldn't speak from a sudden lump in her throat and her eye was misting over.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! None of that, baby!" His hand covered the back of her neck, lightly massaging the muscles.

"You're right," she sighed. "No sense gettin' the bandages all wet." She rested her cheek against his arm for a moment.

Alex knew why she was feeling emotional. Everyone she loved was leaving. "Tell ya what, baby, you can bitch ride on the back of my Dyna."

She glanced at him in surprise. "Are y'all pullin' my leg?"

He glanced at her legs covered by the sheet and grinned leeringly. "Not at the moment."

"Smart ass!"

"Nice of ya to notice! Besides, it's a short ride. Shouldn't hurt anything." He shrugged non nonchalantly. 'Bein' on the back of the bike will prolly lift your spirits.'

"Too bad time's of the essence," she purred lovingly. "I'd show y'all how much I appreciate the offer."

"I'll be glad to take a rain check," he replied, regretting that it wasn't raining.

---

Hale grinned in satisfaction, relaxing against the back of his office chair while his computer did his dirty work. He'd scanned the document Zobelle had provided into a file which he attached to emails sent to the local media outlets.

Before sending the emails, he'd placed a call to the coffeehouse, pretending to be a vendor interested in a business association with her. He'd learned she wouldn't be at the coffeehouse until noon.

'That means she's at her house right now, and within a half hour, her front lawn is going to be a sea of press. By tonight, everyone in San Joaquin County will know her dirty little secret. The voters won't even vote her in as dog catcher!'

He indulged in imagining the outcome of the press conference. Cat Marshall would be ambushed by the press outside her own home. They would ask about her marriage to the Sons' Sergeant at Arms, and why she chose to keep it secret. The questions would come fast and furious. The reporters would shout at her en masse, leaving her little opportunity to form an answer that didn't sound like a fabrication.

'And there's nothing she nor that gang can do about it! It's all legal!' Hale smirked to himself.

He removed a chain from under his shirt that held a single key and a flash drive on it. He carried them on his person at all times, even though he lived alone. Hale hadn't gotten as rich and powerful as he had by taking unnecessary chances. Unlocked drawers and unattended flash drives containing damaging evidence were an invitation to trouble he didn't want or need.

He unlocked the file drawer in his desk and removed a single file folder. He glanced over the contents, which was a listing of muscle for hire Zobelle had provided to him.

When he'd first seen the paperwork, it had appeared to him as if every criminal organization in San Joaquin County was represented on that list - except SAMCRO.

Hale found that quite amusing while he couldn't escape the irony of the multiracial make up of the list.

"For the leader of a group that believes in keeping whites separate from color, Zobelle sure isn't picky about race when he hires people to do his dirty work! Somewhere in this list is the best person to get the Liberty Street project out of neutral!'

Hale thought back to the day a courier had delivered a package to his office. The small box had arrived three days after Zobelle had escaped SAMCRO's wrath.

The delivery person had instructions to release it only to Jacob Hale, and only after Hale had supplied picture ID to be scanned by the delivery person.

Hale hadn't bothered to make up an explanation to his secretary for the courier's caution. He didn't pay her to ask questions. As was often the case in a tough economy, money could buy a lot of silence, and his secretary was well paid for hers.

Once he'd satisfied the requirements for delivery, Hale signed for and accepted custody of the package. Leaving his secretary to settle any expected tip for the courier's service, Hale scuttled back into his inner sanctum like the cockroach many people considered him to be.

He drew out a letter opener and carefully slit open the top of the package. Inside the box was a veritable treasure trove. At the very top lay a sealed letter addressed to him. The envelope sported the LOAN insignia in the upper right hand corner. There was no return address.

Besides the envelope, there was several small, thick packages wrapped in brown paper, and a flash drive.

Besieged by curiosity, Hale carefully slid the letter opener through the top of the envelope and withdrew the folded parchment. The letter was written on a heavy gauge parchment paper, hinting that expense was no object to the author.

Hale unfolded the letter. He didn't recognize the penmanship so he immediately skipped to the very end to read the signature. The letter was signed by Ethan Zobelle.

My dear friend, (the letter began)

As you know, I had to make a rapid departure from Charming, as well as the United States. At the present time, I am safe and healthy. Forgive me for not sharing the location with you at this time. Suffice it to say that it is far from the reach of any international charter of the Sons of Anarchy.

By now you may also be aware that my daughter, Polly, was killed at a house in Galt. That house belonged to a customer of one of my more lucrative investments. That customer is also dead. As bad luck would have it, my daughter had taken a liking to the customer and felt it necessary to visit him before we left the country.

Due to the current circumstances, I am not able to perform the sorrowful duty of retrieving my daughter's Earthly remains from the county coroner. Nor can I see to the proper disposition of those remains. It has become necessary for me to have someone perform this duty in my place.

I have severed my work relationship with Mr. Weston. While he was enthusiastic to the cause LOAN represents, in some ways he was a little over enthusiastic about his work, as displayed by the attack on the aforementioned Ms. Marshall.

It is for that reason, and other failings on Mr. Weston's part, that we mutually dissolved our partnership. I would suggest that you not look to Mr. Weston for assistance in the future.

Obviously, I can no longer rely upon him to do what needs to be done for my daughter.

Inside the small packages you will find the necessary funds to prepare Polly's remains for burial and to transport her back to our hometown. It is my wish that she buried beside her mother. You will find the details in the enclosed large envelope at the bottom of this box.

Please purchase a suitable headstone for Polly's grave. The attached paper will provide you the necessary dates, and other accoutrements to adorn the headstone.

Any remaining funds are to be used as you see fit, including to assist your political aspirations in Charming. The flash drive contains information that you may also find useful in that endeavor. One contains names and contact information of gentlemen with certain skills that may be useful to you. All have been approved by the LOAN hierarchy.

You will also find some useful information that you can use to your best advantage against Cat Marshall. Any attack on her will, by extension, have a detrimental impact on the Sons of Anarchy. You should find this most intriguing, as you have long been attempting to eliminate that club's influence. I'm sure you will know when and how to put it to good use.

I promise that you will not regret your decision to join LOAN. The organization will both support and defend you in any way necessary to improve conditions in Charming.

I continue to be interested in the Liberty Street project and my investment in it. I understand that one hold out to the property buy out is preventing the project from moving forward. Again, LOAN's resources will prove of great value to you in this endeavor.

Good luck, my friend. And much thanks for your assistance.

I remain your humble servant,

Ethan Zobelle

Hale had immediately opened one of the small, thick packages to find a brick of crisp hundred dollar bills. The large envelope contained detailed instructions for Polly's burial and a legal document giving Hale authority to retrieve Polly Zobelle's body from the morgue and make arrangements for her internment.

Hale placed the items back in the box, then extracted the flash drive, plugging it into the appropriate port of his office PC. He clicked on the icon for the flash drive, which had two folders in it. Both had innocuous labels, 'coffee' and 'tasks'.

Hale clicked on the folder marked 'tasks', which opened a spreadsheet showing the names, contact info, ethnic background, area of expertise and gang affiliation of each LOAN approved 'hit man'.

Hale had been one of the first to upgrade his office computer system to wireless internet when it became available in Charming. It eliminated the need for messy cables, and allowed him to do more work in less time in his office. It also enabled him to keep his secretary from acquiring knowledge of his more dubious real estates dealings.

He sent the spreadsheet to his private printer, located across the office from him. While the item was printing, he opened the 'coffee' file. What he found there made me grin maliciously and gave him a serious chubby.

The intel Zobelle had provided on Cat Marshall was a ticking time bomb. If he wanted, he could hold it over her and Tig Trager for a long time to keep her in line.

The idea of making the couple squirm was intriguing, but he knew that wasn't the reason Zobelle had entrusted the intel to him. How Zobelle had gotten his hands on the documents Hale neither knew nor cared to find out.

Hale sent that document to the printer, then secured both items in file folders from his own supplies. He would keep those files under lock and key at his home, and the flash drive would be affixed to the same chain that carried his desk key close to his heart.

Later that evening, in the safety and security of his home, Hale had reviewed the information contained in the 'tasks' folder. The information made Hale feel more confident about the success of the Liberty Street project.

He was more than happy to have someone else do his dirty work for him, and if LOAN had found these criminals worthy to be utilized, that was good enough for him, no matter how much money it cost him.

He first thought of hiring Hector Salazar, leader of the minor Calavarez MC out of Lodi. He was listed as tough, ruthless, and willing to do anything for any price.

Then his gaze found a familiar name from Charming. His eyes lit with unholy delight and his sardonic grin grew wider at the irony. What could be more appropriate than choosing a local neo Nazi to convince a Jewish business owner to surrender to the inevitable?

---

James Pesta, Channel Two's assignment editor, hated reading the emails that flowed to the newsroom from the station's website. He felt it was a total waste of his valuable time.

He didn't have much choice as the News Director believed a useable tip just might be nestled amongst the drek like buried treasure in the sand. "Easy for him to think!" Pesta grumbled under his breath. "He doesn't have to read the damn fool things!"

Most of the emails were complaints about pot holes or neighborhood association covenants that the news department could do nothing about. A few others contained suggestions for the station's investigative reporter that Pesta considered beneath that reporter's dignity to cover. A very few of the emails requested public appearances from the on air talent at various charity events. Those were forwarded to the individual talent to reply to.

Pesta hit the delete key after reading the first couple of sentences of each undesirable email. His finger remained on the mouse, ready to make the click that would eliminate the offending email.

'I wish to God these idiots would have the courtesy to put a title on their emails! It would make this job less time consuming!' Pesta whined to himself, hitting delete and sending yet another email to internet purgatory.

The next email caught his attention because it was titled 'information on the REAL Cat Marshall' and it came from someone who identified themselves as 'a concerned Charming resident'.

"Please pay careful attention to the enclosed attachment. It is a verified legal document that might interest your organization in light of the fact that Ms. Marshall is entering the political arena". Pesta's eyes glowed as he read the copied announcement of the coffeehouse owner's intention to run for Charming city council.

That in itself was enough to sharpen his curiosity. He opened the attachment, reviewed it, and sat back with a malicious smile on his face. 'This is fantastic! I know just who to assign to this story!'

He gazed around the newsroom from his lofty perch at the assignment desk. His eyes settled on Windover, the reporter who most annoyed him at the moment. Windover had dared to question him on Channel 2's coverage of the LOAN/SOA showdown in Charming.

'Yup, that's who I want on this story. He knows Charming. More important, he needs to have that superiority of his knocked down a few pegs! When he sees this, he won't be quite so enamored of that woman!' A malicious smile stole over Pesta's usually grim features. "Windover! Get over here!"

James Windover rolled his eyes before rising from his desk in response to Pesta's order. "Yes sir?"

Pesta removed a sheet of paper from the printer and handed it to the reporter. "Take this and read it on the way to Charming. That coffeehouse owner is considering a run for city council. A 'concerned citizen' has sent this to every media outlet in the valley."

"What's that got to do with me?" Windover asked cautiously. He had a bad feeling about Pesta's motives for giving him the assignment.

"She'll be more likely to open up to you, and give us a better story!" the assignment editor was nearly drooling over the anticipated outcome.

Windover glanced at the paper the assignment editor had thrust at him. He fought back a tide of nausea at the contents. "What kind of sick joke is this?"

"it's neither," Pesta retorted. "it's a legitimate lead. Instead of asking stupid questions, I suggest you get your ass in gear before we get scooped!"

Windover glared angrily at the assignment editor, but kept his opinion to himself. He wanted to tear up the paper and stuff it down Pesta's throat, but knew if he did so, he'd never work in the business again.

Pesta stared gloatingly at him, knowing the fight Windover was waging with himself. 'He'll do it. He won't like it, but he'll do it.'

Windover turned on his heel and strode towards the bullpen where the cameramen hung out. He stuck his head in the door and called to his friend to grab his camera and meet him in the parking lot.

Pesta's malicious smile widened in triumph. He watched as Windover trudged out of the newsroom, his partner scurrying after him.

"What did you say to him?" Powell, the news director, inquired as he walked up behind Pesta.

"Reminding him of his job," Pesta replied, allowing Powell to review the email.

Powell whistled soundlessly. "I don't object to the story, but you could've assigned another reporter!"

"Windover was the only choice," Pesta argued. "He struck up a friendship with that woman. She'll give him more information than she'll give any other reporter."

Powell shook his head. "Sometimes, Pesta, I really hate your methods."

"Tough shit, Powell. You can't do anything about it, so just go on back into your office and keep your nose out of my assignments!"

Powell glared at the assignment editor. He'd put up with a lot of personal insults from the man for many months. He'd even overlooked Pesta's tendency to browbeat the reporters and anchors for the greater good.

'To Hell with this!' Powell grumbled to himself as he returned to his office. 'There's got to be a loophole in Pesta's contract, and it's about damn time Legal finds it!'

Windover trudged to the news van assigned to him and his partner. The camera operator was loading the back of the van with the mini - cam case as the reporter climbed wearily into the passenger seat of the van.

"Where we goin', boss?" the camera operator inquired as he settled into the driver's seat and entered the starting mileage in the log book kept for that purpose.

"Charming."

The cameraman whistled soundlessly. "If this keeps up, the station might have to open up a satellite news bureau there! What's happening this time?"

Windover pulled the sheet of paper Pesta had thrust in his hands a few moments earlier and handed it to his co - worker.

The camera man skimmed the contents of the email, looked out the side of his eye at the reporter, then thoroughly reread the email.

"Holy dirty laundry, Batman!" the camera operator whistled, citing the Don Henley song of the same name.

"No shit. The town's already a powder keg, this is going to touch off one Hell of an explosion!" Windover fumed.

The camera operator started the van's engine and pulled out of the station parking lot onto the street, pointing towards the highway that would take them to Charming.

"Are you going to warn her?"

"Most reporters wouldn't," Windover replied miserably. "They'd go for the element of surprise."

"You're not most reporters, my friend," the camera operator retorted, glancing from the road to the reporter and back again. "Go ahead, call her."

"I feel awfully weird calling to warn her out of the blue like this," Windover protested weakly. He'd already been considering doing exactly what his camera operator suggested.

"Well, you could call as if you're just 'droppin' in to see what condition her condition is in'," the camera operator replied, this time quoting the old 60's Kenny Rogers and the First Edition classic tune. "But I suspect she'd see through that in a red hot minute."

Windover gave the idea a few moments' consideration. "Her husband might be less protective if he thought I was calling to ask how she's feeling."

"And if you believe that, I've got desert land in Florida for sale at a cheap price!" the camera operator grinned.

"I don't care if you have a matching acreage of swampland in Arizona!" Windover retorted, reaching for his cellphone. "As long as that husband of hers buys it for a few minutes!"

The camera operator shook his head at the mention of the contents of the email. "You know, if I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd never believe someone like Cat Marshall would marry the Sergeant at Arms of SAMCRO! I mean, opposites are said to attract, but how much more opposite can two people be?"

---

'There's nothing more depressing than hearing birds chirping when you feel like the bottom of your world has dropped out from under you!' Tara moaned inwardly, listening to the raucous birdsong outside the bedroom window. The sun was shining, which seemed to encourage the birds to sing its' praises. The day promised to be mild and sunny. She hoped the promise would extend to her situation with Jax.

'What if he's not ready to hear bout the baby? What if he thinks that I didn't stop Hayes from taking Abel because of my own pregnancy?'

The questions she hadn't wanted to consider overnight were harder to ignore in the harsh light of day. They were valid questions. Gemma had already touched on that when she confronted Tara about the pregnancy the other day. If Gemma could think her capable of such an act, it wasn't too difficult to believe Jax would follow his mother's lead.

'He already holds me responsible for Abel's kidnapping. He's not said so, but if I feel responsible, he's bound to share those feelings. It's like an 800 pound gorilla we keep trying to ignore!'

She sat down at the kitchen table with her coffee cup in front of her.

'Maybe I need to rethink this action. It made a lot of sense last night, and I still want to tell Jax, but maybe I should wait until he brings Abel home to tell him about this baby.'

The more she debated with herself, the more Tara believed she was doing the right thing. She wished she could rely on the 'old ladies support group' just to get their input. Talking with Cat was out of the question, not with the checkups she had scheduled for the day. Tara still felt uneasy around Lyla, though their last conversation - held on neutral territory at Cat's house - had helped them mend some fences.

'Guess I let my antipathy for Ima prejudice me with Lyla. She's done a world of good for Opie and his kids. It's gonna be awhile before we're able to trust each other with this kind of information. If ever.'

This was something she'd have to work out for herself. She already knew Gemma's opinion, but had sworn the new grandmother - to - be to secrecy. 'Jax is such a loose cannon right now! He's all wrapped up in bringing Abel home. I don't blame him for that.' She toyed with the ceramic coffee mug, feeling the contents cooling under her palms.

She took a sip of the tepid liquid and grimaced. "No, I can't tell him about the pregnancy yet. That's definitely got to wait until Abel's home. But I can try to convince him that breaking up isn't the best move. He's going to need help caring for Abel when they get back. Needa's got her family issues to contend with, and it might be weeks before he can find a capable nanny. He's going to need me around!"

Having convinced herself that she had found the best defense to present against Jax's offense, she determinedly pushed herself away from the kitchen table to gather up her purse.

'Might as well get this over with!'

---

Cat poured another cup of coffee while she waited for Alex. She'd taken first turn at the shower, insisting that the budget could handle the multiple showers. "Otherwise, love, you'd never get to church on time!" she teased, locking the bathroom door behind her.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! That's not fair, woman!" Alex called through the door.

"All's fair in love and war, my darlin'!" she laughed. "I'll make y'all a nice, big, country breakfast while you're gettin' yourself cleaned up."

"You're on, baby!" he replied. Only the promise of a good meal could replace his desire for her body, but that might not last very long. He did change the bandage over her eye once she'd dressed for the day. No matter how well she covered it, showering always got it damp He was pleased to find that the skin under the bandage was healthy and pink. There was no swelling to the incision. He considered that a good sign. What he didn't like was the way her good eye seemed more sensitive to light than ever. He'd had to turn out the overhead light in favor of the night light.

"I think you'd better mention that to the eye doc, baby. It's not normal, even for you."

"Who ever said anything about me is normal?" she quipped.

Alex glared at her, earning her immediate chagrin and promise to relay the information to Dr. Smythe.

Alex walked into the kitchen, sniffing appreciatively at the aromas that made his stomach rumble. His eyes widened at the plateful of scrambled eggs, bacon, fried potatoes, and biscuits waiting for him. Steam rose from the plate and the coffee cup, indicating the food was fresh off the stove. "Wow, baby! Ya weren't kiddin' around about the size of this breakfast!"

"Just wanna give y'all somethin' to tide you over while you're gone," she replied. "Unless y'all develop a fondness for haggis and tea instead of hearty American fare."

Alex slid into his chair, eying her curiously. "What the Hell is haggis?"

"You'll find out!" she grinned. "Don't wanna spoil all the fun of discovery for y'all."

"Uh, huh! From the way you're actin', maybe I'd rather not find out!" he retorted, digging into the gigantic meal.

"Gee! Y'all are just no fun!" she pouted. Her cellphone erupted with Gerard Butler crooning 'Point of No Return'.

Alex rolled his eyes as she pulled the phone from her pocket. "Nowwho's callin'?" Alex growled good naturedly though he felt the telephonic intruder could've picked a better time to bother them.

"Dunno, love," she frowned, glancing at the caller ID. She didn't recognize the number, and there was only 'California call' displayed. She held it out for Alex to witness. "I'm tempted to let it go to voice mail."

"Might be your bud Frosty checkin' up on ya."

"True dat," she glanced at her watch and frowned again. "Frost could be callin' from the station; his shift ended a bit ago. But the station phone number shouldn't show up on caller ID this way."

"If you're gonna answer it, better get to it," Alex observed unnecessarily.

Cat snorted and pressed the 'accept' button on her Iphone. "This is Cat."

"Ms. Marshall, it's Windover from Channel 2 News."

"Hey, darlin'! Glad y'all called. Never got to thank you the other night for the intel!" She mouthed "It's Windover!" to Alex, who nodded and resumed eating.

The Channel Two reporter had been the only local journalist to cover the Peace Rally several days earlier, and had made a good impression on her by his fair coverage. He'd further impressed her with his ability to juggle covering multiple events when the SAMCRO/LOAN showdown had come about. He'd kept his cool, presented the facts as they were known without speculating on them. In short, Windover was a rare breed of journalist, one who could be trusted by both of them. SAMCRO owed him a big favor for informing them that the Feds had stopped the Amber Alert on Abel.

"That's all right, Ms. Marshall. I was happy to help you," Windover replied quietly.

"Why am I gettin' a bad feelin' about this call?" Cat inquired. A shiver ran up her spine, making the phone shake in her hand.

Alex's eyes met hers in a questioning gaze. She shook her head to hold off his questions and activated the speaker. He noted the slight vibration of the phone in her hand and reached out to take it from her, holding it between them while his other hand held her good one. "It's a'right, baby," he mouthed at her, sliding the plate to one side.

"Y'all aren't makin' a social call," she added flatly.

"No, ma'am," Windover replied, squirming a bit in the news van's front seat.

The camera operator smirked at him from behind the steering wheel. "Told you!"

"Ah, shut up, you!" Windover snarled. "Not you, Ms. Marshall. My cameraman was offering color commentary."

Cat snorted with amusement. "I don't doubt it. Most camera ops are good at that. Care to tell me the reason for your call, since you weren't hankerin' to find out how I'm doin' physically."

"Is Tig with you?"

"Right here, man. Start talkin'."

Windover wasn't surprised that his call had been placed on speakerphone. It made plenty of sense to him that she'd share the call with her husband. But he did find himself at a loss for words to tell them what was coming.

Cat shook her head warningly at Alex. "Go easy on him, love. He has good reason for callin' us, just give him time."

Windover appreciated her vote of confidence. It gave him the ability to choke out, "Your secret is out, Ms. Marshall. About your marriage."

"Shit!" Alex swore, rising so fast from the table that his chair fell over. He paced furiously about the kitchen, his eyes flashing blue fire.

"Tell me what y'all know, darlin'," Cat encouraged the reporter, keeping a wary eye on her agitated spouse.

"All I know is that the tip came through email to the station. The email mentioned your plan to run for city council," Windover explained. He paused, wondering how he'd explain the other part of the equation.

"Go on and drop the other shoe," she advised, motioning for Alex to sit back down.

He shook his head and continued to pace. 'This means a major change in my plans.'

"The email contained an attachment. The attachment was a copy of your Nevada marriage license."

Alex paused in his pacing to snarl, "Who?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't have to work for a living!" Windover retorted, glad to have the safety of a few miles between him and the volatile biker.

Alex slammed his hand on the table, making their dishes and coffee cups rattle. He stalked around the kitchen, reminding Cat of a caged panther wanting free.

"Ms Marshall? Everything OK?" Windover asked worriedly. It sounded to him like World War III had just broken out.

"Everythin's fine, darlin'. Just a little display of temper," she assured him wearily. She rose and limped around the table, intending to put the chair back in place. I dunno why you're gettin' your drawers in a wad, love! We were gonna come outta the closet anyway!" she added.

"Siddown and lemme handle that!" Alex snarled, grabbing the abused chair and setting it upright.

"Then y'allsiddown, quit actin' like a Neanderthal, and finish your breakfast!" she growled back.

Windover imagined the proverbial standoff taking place. He visualized two sets of glares, one ice blue, the other emerald green, shooting sparks at each other.

"Are they always like that?" the camera operator inquired softly, just loud enough for the reporter to hear.

"Aren't all married couples?" Windover mumbled.

"I resemble that remark!" Cat chortled. "Some couples are actually worse than us."

"This ain't nothin' to be laughin' at, Cat!" Alex grumbled, reaching for his coffee but wishing it was beer.

"Too early for that shit, love," she admonished under her breath. "Drink your whiskey blend and try to relax."

Alex sighed in resignation and resumed his seat at the table, taking a soothing sip from the mug of steaming coffee.

"Why don't y'all start at the top and tell us the whole story, darlin'," she instructed the reporter.

Windover told her everything he knew, ending with the reason he believed Pesta had given him the assignment. "I'm really sorry about this, Ms. Marshall."

"How many times do I hafta tell y'all to call me by my first name? " she inquired. "Thought we were past that formality!"

Alex shook his head and rolled his eyes. 'Figures she'd be more upset about that than someone spillin' the beans on us!'

Cat stuck her tongue out at him. "Much as I hate to admit it, your assignment editor has good instincts. Don't like him right at the moment, but can't fault him for thinkin' like a newsman."

"You don't have to work with the bastard!" Windover opined.

"True dat," Cat admitted.

"So how are you going to handle this, Ms - er - Cat?"

"Good question. Whoever leaked this wanted me to be caught off guard."

"Strike one," Alex murmured, taking another sip of his coffee. "

Alex has a point, our nemesis has lost the element of surprise."

"Who would do something like this, Ms - er, Cat?" Windover inquired.

Cat and Alex exchanged glances. "Hale!" they chorused.

"Jacob Hale? What makes you think that?"

Cat filled in the reporter on the call she'd received from her employee. "Hale had very close ties to Ethan Zobelle. Zobelle had ways of gettin' his hands on privileged information. I wouldn't put it past that fucktard to have made it available to Hale."

Alex tensed when she started to talk to Zobelle's ability to get information. He visibly relaxed when she didn't mention that Zobelle was a Federal informant. He raised his coffee cup in tribute to her, which she acknowledged by sticking her tongue out at him. 'Serves me right for doubtin' her again,' Alex mused, mouthing back, "You're gonna pay for that, woman!"

Cat grinned and flipped the bird at him.

Blessedly ignorant of their by play, Windover gave considerable thought to the possibility that Hale was behind the tip. "It makes a lot of sense. He had to have figured the time was right to use the fruits of Zobelle's poisonous tree."

"That still doesn't lead us to a solution," Alex commented.

"Yes it does, love. We were gonna go public once I became a serious candidate. We might as well get it over with and 'fess up now," she added.

"Gee, thanks!" Alex pouted. "Ya make it sound like a punishment!"

Cat rolled her good eye towards the heaven. "Oh, for the love of - Y'all know what I meant, love! We can turn this to our advantage, choose the time and place and control things. Far better than the ambush Hale is expectin'."

Alex smiled evilly. "I like the way ya think, woman!"

"So do I!" Windover piped up. "The first thing I thought was that someone was settin' you up, Ms - er - Cat."

"Great minds with the same thought," she retorted. "Where are y'all now?"

"About fifteen minutes away. Pesta always checks the newsroom emails first thing. Likes to get it over with."

"So it's likely this hasn't gotten out to the other media outlets," she observed.

"Haven't seen any other news vehicles chasing us," the reporter observed. 'Course, there areseveral ways to enter Charming."

Cat closed her eye for a moment, engaging in some rapid thinking. "I'm gonna call my staff, tell 'em to get ready for a media invasion, but they're not to say a word to any of y'all."

"Good thinkin' baby! Keeps 'em away from our property!" Alex nodded approvingly.

"We'll park our van down the street. The competition will see it sitting in that parking lot and think I ambushed you at the coffeehouse. They'll swarm inside to try to horn in on the story."

"Then Cat and I will come in from the back office, present a united front," Alex continued.

"You, love, will be the quiet, but protective rock," Cat added, favoring Alex with 'The Look'. "I'll handle the questions onmyterms, then we'll 'shoo' 'em away under the guise of my havin' a business to run."

'Though I'll actually be spiritin' ya away to the hospital!' Alex thought.

"I think it'll work, Cat," Windover offered.

"It has to work, my friend," she countered, turning off the Iphone.

An intense quiet settled between them for a few minutes. Alex had lost his appetite for food or anything else. Part of him wanted to slam a fist into Jacob Hale's face for trying to pull the rug out from Cat before her candidacy had gotten out of the starting gate.

"I know what y'all are thinkin', and appreciate the sentiment. As long as you don't follow through on the thought!" she gravely admonished him.

"It's not right, Cat!" he protested hotly.

"Nothin' in politics is, love," she replied soothingly. "Either I can sit around bitchin' and moanin' about it, or I can do somethin' about it."

"Well, we're gonna do somethin' about it!" he growled. "Think ya can hold 'em off 'til I get back from church?"

"Listen, love. Much as I appreciate the support, don't feel like y'all gotta jump through hoops to get back here," she replied quietly.

"What the fuck is that 'sposed to mean?" he barked.

"I'm just sayin' that y'all got enough on your plate goin' to Belfast to be bothered with this shit," she stated.

Alex sat down across from her, taking her good hand in his. His thumb absently rubbed against the top of her hand as he gazed at her. "I don't get it, baby. A minute ago you were all excited about us takin' on the press. Now you're pushin' me away?"

She looked down at the table for a moment, trying to find the right words. She knew from past experience as a preacher's kid the difficulties involved in juggling conflicting agendas.

Alex reached across the table, taking her chin in his palm and gently forced her head up so that his eyes met hers. "You're doin' it again." "What?" "You're steppin' aside so the club can come first," he stated.

"That's because it has to!"

He dropped his head onto her hand for a moment, placed a kiss on it, then looked up at her again. "Not this time, Cat. You're not gonna face those asshats alone. I'm gonna be there to back you up. No argument!"

She smiled lopsidedly, feeling a rush of intense love for him that threatened to make her act like a girl. "Tell y'all what, I'll wait for y'all, but if it's impossible to get away, call and let me know. I'll just handle things as a solo act."

Alex shook his head vehemently. "That ain't gonna happen!"

"I know!" She smiled shakily, squeezing his hand tightly in hers. "And you should know by now that I always like to have a back up plan."

"As long as that's all it is," he grumbled. "Guess I'd better come clean to the club."

"That's a good idea," she smiled approvingly. "It wouldn't be right for 'em to find out through the media, and there's always the chance it might come out earlier than the first evening newscast."

Alex nodded agreement. "They're prolly gonna be pissed that we kept it from them." They both shared an unspoken thought that it wasn't the first time Tig and Clay had kept something from the club. They exchanged wry, knowing glances at the thought, then shrugged it away as if in mutual consent. "I like that ya chose to face the press in the coffeehouse. It'll make it easier for me to get ya to the hospital," he stated. "Might hafta give ya a rain check on the bitch ride."

She tried not to show her disappointment. "The PT would make it easier to escape the media horde," she sighed. "It's likely they might try to follow us to get more sound bites."

"That's beauty of havin' a back door to the joint," Alex grinned. "Always good to have an escape route to fall back on." He stood up and shrugged into his cut before coming around the table to stand next to her. "I'm proud of ya, baby." He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand before he bent down to kiss her. "I'll be back in a bit."

"I'll be waitin'," she promised, smiling up at him before he turned and walked out the front door. Seconds later, his Dyna roared to life and down the driveway towards the compound.

Cat picked up her Iphone and accessed the coffeehouse number from her favorites. "Like Daddy says, 'no rest for the weary or the wicked!"

"Charming Pawse, this is Adrian. How may I help you?"

"Tell Pete to get on the phone in the office, I've only got time to go over this once!"

---

Ima felt happy for the first time in a long time. Happy and sated. Most of the time, sex was just something she did to make money. There was nothing of her heart and soul involved until that night with Jax. Sex had been everything she'd ever wanted it to be. Every fiber of her being felt like it'd been woken from a long hibernation, making the urges she'd felt from the moment she'd first spotted Jax seem pale by comparison.

She had wanted Jax from that first moment she'd seen him on his motorcycle. His long golden locks atop a well defined body woke the most primitive response in her, feelings she thought had been dead since her childhood dreams of being a 'legitimate' actress had died on a sleazy producer's casting couch. He was built like a Greek God, and Ima wanted that for herself. She wanted to feel that body next to her for the rest of her life. She wanted the pleasure that body would give her and to return that pleasure in equal amounts.

There was one impediment; Jax was married to Wendy, and though they were separated, she was pregnant with his child. Ima had become a lot of things since she'd come to California, but she refused to become a home wrecker. The only married men she got involved with were the ones that could afford the price of her time to get their rocks off.

By the time she'd found her way to Caracara, Ima had shed nearly all of her morals and inhibitions. They wouldn't take her anywhere, and if she wasn't fit to be an actress on the calibre of Bacall or Hepburn, she'd be the best damn porn diva she could be. She liked to live the good life, and if sucking dick and eating pussy in front of a camera gave her that kind of lifestyle, that was fine with her. She even began selling her body so that she'd always have money for an emergency.

The idea of ever having a man who loved her and only her and of having a home and a family of her own was also sacrificed on the altar of personal success. Yet, a small part of her held out hope that Jax, the SAMCRO VP, might see more to her than a convenient piece of ass. She bided her time, waiting for Wendy to deliver Jax's child and see where their relationship would go. Ima's heart had actively ached for Jax when Abel was born premature with little hope of survival.

Ima had never allowed herself to get pregnant, so she could only guess at the anguish Jax felt over the prospect of losing his first born son. She wanted to be the one to comfort and support him, but she never got the chance. By the time Ima realized that Wendy's days with Jax were numbered, Dr. Tara Knowles, the gifted surgeon who'd recently returned to town and had once been Jax's girlfriend, cut right in front of her. Ima was crushed that Jax and the dark - haired physician picked up right where they'd left off.

She held her head high until she reached the privacy of her lush apartment. Then she'd allowed herself to engage in a good old fashioned temper tantrum that left her face puffy and her eyes red for a few hous. It's not fair!" She'd wailed into her pillow. "That bitch took off years ago and left him behind! It was my turn! I want him and I'm going to have him!"

Ima hadn't attended Donna Winston's funeral, but she heard plenty about it after the fact. The whole town seemed to be buzzing about how Tara had brazenly walked up to Jax during the graveside service and swapped spit with him.

"She waylaid him before he could even pay his respects to Donna!" Lyla scoffed the next day at Caracara. "Poor Opie and the kids saw it, and so did Wendy."

"I'll bet she was devastated by that!" Ima sniped, feeling a small bit of empathy for Jax's wife.

"She held together pretty well, but everyone could see she was hurt."

"I'm surprised Gemma didn't do something about it!" Ima mused.

"She probably wanted to, but I think she didn't want to cause an even more embarrassing scene in front of Donna's family."

Ima shrugged. "That's possible," though she inwardly doubted it. Gemma wasn't beyond putting another woman in her place by any means possible. She'd shown that when she smacked Cherry in the face with a skateboard!

Oblivious to her friend's sudden quiet manner, Lyla added, "Frankly, everybody was shocked by that. I thought Tig's old lady was gonna go back to her car and get her baseball bat!"

Ima laughed outright. "I've heard about her threatening to use it on that Fed that closed down LuAnn's studio!"

Lyla nodded. "She makes no bones about having it and knowing how to use it. She was really pissed by that display!"

"Tig's old lady was pretty upset over some of the behavior at LuAnn's funeral, too," Ima reminded her. "Can't say as I blame her. It disgusted me!' She added to herself. Aloud she continued on to a new subject. "Cat Marshall has a really nice coffeehouse," Ima remarked. "It's much more inviting and relaxing than some other places in town."

"How would youknow?" Lyla's eyebrows arched in surprise.

Ima shrugged offhandedly. She'd been to the coffeehouse numerous times, often in plain yoga pants and sweatshirts. In that guise, she looked like any other civilian instead of a porn star. Contrary to any beliefs held by her co - workers, Ima often went to the coffeehouse on her days off. She'd curl up in a comfy chair near the cat window with a cup of tea and a borrowed book from the exchange shelves. Sometimes she wouldn't bother to read, but watch the cats at play in their area. Ima loved animals, and often wished she had a pet. Her erratic schedule and current lease didn't allow for pets. Seeing the feline trio in their glassed - in area was the closest she could get to a pet for the time being.

The incident at the cemetery had served to strengthen Ima's dislike for Dr. Knowles and made her more determined to take Jax away from her. It seemed that the Fates were smiling on her when the Feds closed down Caracara and Jax had offered to give LuAnn the use of the club's warehouse for a cut of the profits. Ima had nearly licked her lips in anticipation of having Jax visiting the studio often. She felt certain that she would soon have Jax wound around her little finger so that he'd soon forget the physician.

Unfortunately, Dr. Knowles had other ideas, and clung to Jax like glue, going as far as to track Jax down during the wrap party. Ima had prevented her from gaining access to the party and to Jax, and thought she'd won the first round. Jax had noticed their confrontation, and gone off in search of Dr. Knowles. Later, when Ima went to use the necessary, she found Jax and Tara fucking on the bathroom counter. Tara's eyes had met Ima's with a gleam of triumph. Imahad been distressed by stumbling upon that scene, but she wasn't ready to give up the fight.

She waited patiently for Tara's guard around Jax to be down. She thought she'd gotten her chance the night of the debacle at Henry Lin's restaurant, The Palace. Word had spread amongst the former Caracara girls that Dr. Knowles had left Jax the previous night. As far as Ima was concerned, that made Jax fair game. She knew he was interested in her company that night, and she might have spent the night with him. He'd certainly been receptive to her overtures. Then Juice had interrupted them with the picture of that dead Irishman. Jax had lost all interest in her, his attention focused on the welfare of his son. She'd quietly left the clubhouse without looking back and gotten a ride home with the twins.

Ima had consoled herself with the hope that she'd get another chance. Then tonight, just as she'd started to get cozy with the SAMTAW SAA, Jax had walked in and showed his possessive streak, taking her away from the sandy - haired biker. He'd taken her to the main apartment where they'd lost no time in getting down to business. When they fell naked onto the bed, Jax had been determined not to face her. He'd turned her over and entered her from the rear, plunging into her hot and ready pussy.

Ima allowed him to ride her that way for a bit, then managed to turn over while he was still thrusting into her. She wanted to see his face, look into his eyes, share lips and tongues while he fucked her senseless.

'See me, love me! I'm always here for you!' Her heart cried the words she couldn't vocalize. It never occurred to her that Jax had any ulterior motives for being with her. All that mattered was that moment. He was now hers, and she wasn't going to give him up.

Jax stirred in his sleep. Daylight peeked through the high windows in the apartment. Ima could hear noises coming from the clubhouse: the prospects talking to some of the hangarounds and Croweaters; the jukebox cranking out some Southern Rock; patched members greeting each other. The smell of fresh coffee drifted down the hallway.

She was lying face down on top of the bed covers. Jax was sprawled on his back under the sheet, one arm stretched out under her chest. She felt an uncomfortable pressure in her bladder just as Jax started to tease the nipple under his hand to a taunt peak.

"I've got to pee," she mumbled apologetically, propping herself on her arms and sliding to the side of the bed.

Jax sighed and turned to reach for a cigarette. He was already regretting his actions of the night before, but he also had a raging hard - on, and Ima was willing.

Ima walked to the bathroom, allowing her hips to sway teasingly from side to side. She knew Jax was watching her, and if he was like most men, he had woken up with an erection that she intended to take advantage of. She left the door open while she relieved her bladder. She could hear voices in the hall from the bathroom. Opie's voice distinctly called out to Dr. Knowles, telling her that Jax wasn't 'in there.'

Ima smiled grimly. 'So he's trying to alert Jax that Tara's around. Let her find us, then. It'll be better for her to learn she'd lost and get it over with,' she told herself while washing her hands. She considered striding triumphantly back to the bed, driving home to the doctor that she'd been the one with Jax the entire night. She shook her head against the idea. Showing up in only her thong would be too cruel. Seeing their clothes strewn all over the floor was more than enough hurt for the doctor. She looked for something she could use for a cover and found a tee shirt hanging from the towel rack. She put it over her head and slipped her arms into the short sleeves. The shirt covered her boobs and pussy. She moved to the doorway and leaned against the frame.

Tara Knowles stood in the open door staring angrily at Jax. The VP still lay in the bed, but the lack of a lump in the covers indicated his dick had gone limp. He also looked just the tiniest bit uncomfortable. The silence seemed overwhelming to Ima.

She decided she could lure more flies with honey than bitchiness and greeted Tara with a pleasant, "Morning!"

Tara turned away and slammed the door shut behind her.

Ima could hear the angry clacking of the physician's shoes stride down the hall and Opie call out to her. 'Poor baby! That must have been difficult for him!' Ima's heart went out to Jax at the miserable look on his face. She walked over to the foot of the bed, laying a light hand on his covered foot before inquiring if he was OK.

He spat two words at her that crushed her spirit and made her as miserable as he felt. Those two words told her that she had lost the war. Jax had used her to push the doctor away from him. She held back both her anger and tears while she drew the tee shirt over her head, wadded it up, and threw it in his face. She didn't care if the shirt got singed or burnt from the lit cigarette held next to his forehead.

Ima silently picked up her clothes, holding them tightly to her chest. She strode back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She glanced longingly at the shower, wishing she had time to wash his stench from her body. She settled for a sink bath and slid into her clothes. Satisfied that she didn't look like she'd been rode hard and put away wet, she stalked out of the bathroom.

Jax still lay like a lump in the bed. The tee shirt with the scythe graphic lay wadded up on the bed next to him. The burning cigarette still rested near his forehead, a long stem of grey ash threatened to fall at any moment.

'He can stay there and rot for all I care!' Ima thought viciously, striding on towards the apartment door without a word to the man she loved. 'How could I have fallen for him? He's no different! There has to be someone who will love me!" She was so blinded by anger and hurt that she didn't see Opie standing in the hallway until she ran into his solid form.

The breath rushed out of her lungs from the impact. She looked up to see his murderous intent in his eyes and took an involuntary step back. "

You need to leave. Now." He intoned roughly. "I fully intend to!" Ima announced with a fearlessness she didn't feel. "Be sure you don't come back!" Opie growled, stepping to one side so she could pass.

Ima defiantly tossed her head and strode on down the hall, past the bar where the two prospects pretended not to notice her. The smell of fresh coffee was inviting, but she decided not to take her chances by stopping for a cup. She could always make coffee at her own home. Ima held her head high, despite the caustic comments and nasty giggles of the Croweaters in the main area. She found it ironic that the very epithets her fellow porn actresses had thrown at Tara the night of the wrap party were now being tossed at her.

---

'Where the Hell is Sebastian? What part of being available to the club 24/7 didn't he understand?' Opie glanced around the main room of the clubhouse though he knew the prospect wasn't there. His bike hadn't been parked outside.

Miles and Filthy Phil were being faithful to their new cuts and 'Prospect' rockers, standing behind the bar, serving the hangarounds and Croweaters their choice of beverage. Both had cups of coffee in front of them. Neither knew Sebastian's whereabouts.

"Last we saw of him was last night when he went home," Filthy Phil offered.

"I called his cell phone this morning, but it went straight to voice mail," Miles added. "I'd better warn ya that Jax spent the night in the apartment, and took that other blonde porn star with him."

"Shit!" Opie moaned. "Let me know when she leaves. I'm going to check in at the garage."

He found Chuckie 'holding down the fort' in the office. He was organizing the paperwork that had accumulated in Gemma's absence and answering the phone as if he'd been working there for years instead of a few days.

"Everything a'right?" Opie inquired from the doorway.

Chuckie nodded while holding the receiver to his ear and answering the strident questions of the caller he was dealing with. Opie nodded and started back across the parking lot. He was nearly to the door of the clubhouse when the chirp of a car horn caught his attention.

He turned to see Lyla's Prius pull into a parking space.

He frowned slightly. 'Piney took the kids to school, so what's she doing here?'

Lyla strutted across the lot, dressed in hip hugger jeans and a skimpy shirt that didn't cover her midriff. "Hi again, stranger!" she smiled merrily. "We've really got to stop meeting like this!"

"Yeah," he replied absently, slipping an arm around her bare shoulders. "What brings you here?"

"Ima. She called last night, said she'd need a ride home this morning. I think she stayed here overnight."

"She did. With Jax," Opie replied grimly.

"That doesn't sound good," Lyla muttered.

"You got that right," Opie led her past the bar where the prospects and other hang arounds were gathered. He needed to talk to Lyla privately and keep an eye out for Tara. 'She'll hightail it here as soon as she wakes up and finds that Jax isn't home!'

"What the Hell is Jax up to?" Lyla stormed. "I thought he and Tara were tight!"

"It's called the 'dick move'," Opie explained wearily. "What does that mean?" "if one of us wants to break it off with our old lady, the guy will screw a local girl and let his old lady catch 'em in the act. Bringing it home - or in this case, the clubhouse - is a public insult to any old lady."

Lyla winced. "And he's doin' it with Tara's arch rival! That's gonna hit Tara hard!"

Opie merely nodded, his attention on the determined footsteps he heard outside the door. He'd hoped to spare Tara the agony of that discovery. Both Jax and Tara were already hurting enough, he didn't feel that Jax didn't need to add to the doctor's pain, much less his own.

Tara was striding down the hall towards the apartment. When Opie told her Jax wasn't there, she snorted and strode on to the door. 'Yeah, right. And Kellogg's doesn't make corn flakes!' She scoffed inwardly.

Opie took Lyla by the arm and steered her towards the main room of the clubhouse. Tara didn't need any further embarrassment by having them witness her devastation.

Tara stood in the doorway of the apartment, taking in the discarded garments all over the floor, especially the feminine attire. Jax lay under the covers, holding a cigarette in his hand. He stared hard at Tara, his face a mask of stone. His expression clearly indicated his disapproval at her unwanted presence in the room. Water ran in the bathroom, reminding Tara he wasn't alone. She breathed a quick prayer that Jax's companion wasn't Ima, only to have her hopes dashed when the blonde leaned enticingly in the bathroom doorway, clad in one of Jax's tees.

Tara didn't acknowledge Ima's attempt to be cordial. She didn't hear the other girl's polite greeting. She turned and fled from the apartment, slamming the door closed behind her. She stormed through the clubhouse, right past Opie and Lyla, who stared pityingly at her. Opie offered a heartfelt apology that fell on deaf ears. Her face was clouded with pain and betrayal. Her eyes shone with unshed tears as she passed the couple and stormed on out the door, leaving shocked silence in her wake.

Lyla wondered aloud if she should try to console the doctor. Opie's response upset and shocked her. Before she realized it, she slapped his face and flounced out the door after Tara, ignoring the shocked gasps from the Croweaters. 'I don't give a damn if Opie feels disrespected! There was no call for him to blame me for what Jaxdid!' she fumed as she burst outside.

Tara was already half way across the lot to her car. Lyla had a feeling the doctor wasn't up to talking to anyone, including another porn star. She watched sympathetically as Tara finally gained the sanctuary of her Olds, barely hearing Ima's footsteps coming up behind her.

Ima strode up to Lyla, her face a mask of innocence that didn't reveal the hurt and anger she felt from Jax's rejection. She hated being used by anyone for any reason. Ima's heavy heart lightened at the sight of the one person she considered a friend in her world.

Lyla stood with her back to the clubhouse entrance, watching Dr. Knowles progression to her parked car. Ima stopped behind Lyla and commented on how awkward the whole scene had been. To her surprise, Lyla turned around and smacked her face so hard Ima's teeth rattled in her mouth. Hot tears poured from Ima's eyes. 'Et tu,Lyla?' She barely noticed the black Olds crawl past them. There was no doubt in Ima's mind that her rival had witnesses the assault, and probably applauded Lyla for slapping her.

Ima angrily confronted Lyla. The cheek that Lyla had hit was turning an angry red from the blow. The physical hurt was less than the emotional pain she felt. Everyone around her was rejecting her; Jax, Opie, and now Lyla were all treating her like the scapegoat.

Lyla wiped her stinging hand along her blue jeans, as if she were wiping something distasteful from her palm and started towards her car.

"I'm not the only one who had sex last night in the apartment!" Ima screamed after her.

Lyla whirled around to stare in shock at Ima. "You've made itvery clear that you want Jax. Every time you lay eyes on him you're like a bitch in heat!"

"Oh, and you're so innocent?" Ima snarled. "Look who went after Opie before his wife's grave was cold!"

"That just happened!" Lyla retorted, retreating a couple of steps from Ima's fury. "That's entirely different from what you've done!"

"Oh, really?" Ima dug in her tight hot pants and withdrew two quarters, holding them in her palm. "Here, call somebody who might believe you!"

Lyla stared incredulously at Ima. 'Has this girl lost her mind? I didn'tchase Opie!'

"Oh yes you did!" The other girl exclaimed, reading her former friend's thoughts from the expression on her face. "Maybe not openly, but you sure made yourself available."

"What do you mean?" Lyla hissed.

"Let's see. You conveniently had a flat tire in order to give him your phone number. You offered to pick up his kids and keep them with yours until he could take 'em off your hands. You used Opie to get rid of that troublesome drug dealer of yours!" Ima ticked each item off a manicured finger as she spoke. "Basically, you wiggled your ass and shook your boobs at him until he didn't know which end was up! No wonder he went on a rampage at the restaurant!"

Lyla shook her head in denial. It wasn't possible that she had behaved as deviously as Ima. It wasn't heridea to get a flat tire, it blew out. LuAnn always encouraged her girls to use TM for their repairs, so it never occurred to her to take her car anywhere else. 'Would I have given any of the other guys my telephone number?' she asked herself.

None of the other unattached men interested her the way Opie did. She had been honestly surprised when he'd sought her out to help the club the day after most of the MC had been arrested at the Morado Christian Center. But he continued to see her after the club got out on bond. He'd been with her of his own choice ever since. It had been slow to happen, but he'd eventually opened up to her and allowed her to love him, and be loved in return.

"No," she stated firmly and quietly. "It's not the same thing, but I wouldn't expect youto understand!" Lyla stalked to her car, followed by a still tearful Ima.

Lyla glared across the roof of the Prius at her co - worker. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You said you were giving me a ride home!" Ima replied, grabbing the door handle and frowning to find it locked.

"Take those two quarters and call a cab!" Lyla spat. "I wouldn't be caught dead in the same vehicle with you!" She unlocked her own door and slid behind the wheel, locking the doors as quickly as she could. She started the engine and threw the gear lever into reverse. The little Prius backed quickly from the space, then careened out of the parking lot, leaving Ima standing alone where the Prius had sat. "

Now what am I going to do?" Ima wailed, stumbling across the lot and collapsing onto the picnic table bench. She lowered her face into her hands and sobbed over all she had lost that morning.

---

Unser paused in front of the closed door to the hospital chapel, debating whether to go inside and sit for awhile or go on about his business. 'Seems like I spend a lot of time in here but never find any answers!' He shrugged and stepped into the dimly lit room, closing the door behind him.

He'd just come from Gemma's room where he'd gone to give her what he thought was good news, that he was personally transferring her from St. Thomas to the SJCCF.

Gemma had seemed both surprised and relieved that the Feds, particularly Stahl, wasn't going to handle that. But instead of expressing satisfaction over the news, Gemma had asked him point blank about the raid on the compound.

He'd answered her honestly, but like her husband, Gemma refused to believe he had no prior knowledge of the event. Her refusal to believe him cut him to the quick.

'Why do I bother to love her? I've always loved her; always been there to protect her, even when she had no idea I was doing it! How could she believe for even a moment that I'd betrayed the club?' He settled into a pew at the back of the chapel, grunting from the impact of the polished wood against his cancer ridden body. Every bone and muscle hurt so bad that some days it was all he could do to get out of bed, much less go to work.

He was weary from extending his retirement date at Clay's request. The only thing that had kept him going was the knowledge that he'd be able to pass the torch to the deputy chief when the extension ended. Then David Hale had been killed in action, delaying his retirement even longer, as the city council needed to find a suitable replacement.

The day after the deputy chief was killed, Jacob Hale's lackey, James Croucher, had placed a conference call to the other council members, suggesting that they eliminate Charming PD.

"It'll be better for everyone if the sheriff's department takes over law enforcement matters. There's too much SAMCRO influence on CPD," Croucher warned his fellow council members. T

he full council wasn't willing to make such a major change without public input and a thorough study of the implications of such a change. The majority agreed that a committee should be appointed to look into the feasibility of Croucher's suggestion.

"Then I expect to chair that committee!" Croucher snarled during the conference call. "Someone has to look out for the best interests of this town!"

"The town, or Jacob Hale?" One of the council members remarked in a snide tone of voice.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Everyone knows you've been sucking at Hale's teat as long as Unser's been at Clay Morrow's!" the same council member replied.

Soft snickers reverberated through the phone lines from the other council members. One of their own had finally found the balls to call a spade a spade!

"Besides," the council member added, "there's no way in Hell that you could've come up with such an idea on your own. It reeks of Jacob Hale!"

"That may be true, but we might as well let the little toadie chair the committee, or we'll never hear the end of it!" Another council member remarked.

"Fine! But it better be a damn impartial report that we get out of the committee. Maybe I'll just co - chair just to make sure!"

The de - facto conference call ended with the appointment of Croucher and the opposing council member to chair and co - chair the committee, with two other council members selected to participate.

Unser had received a call that evening from the co - chair of the new committee, warning him of the impending study. "You've already got one strike against you with Croucher in charge," the council member had added. "My suggestion would be to publicly reach out to Jacob Hale, make it look like you're throwing your support behind him."

"SAMCRO won't like that," Unser replied.

"SAMCRO's not gonna like Jacob Hale turning this town into a big box wonderland! You and I both know that will happen if Hale wins the mayor's office!" The council member retorted.

Unser nodded grimly. Besides the Hale family's long standing feud with the MC, there was a definite conflict of interest that existed in having a property baron like Hale serve as mayor. Unser shuddered to think of the gross misuse of power Hale would indulge in once he took office.

"A little discomfort for the club now may mean a better future for our town as a whole while with CPD remains intact," the council member added after Unser had promised to consider the recommendation.

The day of David Hale's memorial service, Unser had made a point of confronting Jacob Hale in front of Floyd's to announce he would openly support Jacob's candidacy. In return, Hale promised that CPD would remain whole. '

I can'tconfide in Clay or Gemma, much as I'd like to. They'd be more likely to try to intimidate him, and that could backfire on everyone.' Unser sighed wearily, wishing once again that he'd handed Hale the chief's badge as originally planned. Then he wouldn't be walking such a thin tightrope between the good will of a dangerous man and the MC.

'Sometimes I think being chief is the only thing keeping me going anymore. Della's not coming back, and I can't really blame her. Seems like the department's all that's left, now that I'm on the outs with SAMCRO!'

He'd actually looked forward to taking Gemma to the SJCCF, not that he wanted to see her in jail. He'd loved her for decades, and the thought of spending a little time alone with her had seemed like a bright spot in an otherwise dark day. Now he wondered if Gemma would even spare a glance his way during the trip. He feared she'd demand to sit in the back seat like any other prisoner, just to keep distance between them.

They'd grown so much closer since he'd come to her aid after the gang rape, and then helped her escape Stahl after the shooting in Galt. When Gemma asked for his help, he hadn't given it a second thought. He fully believed Gem's side of the story. He'd seen firsthand the damage Stahl could do when she chose to bend the truth.

'Why the Hell did things have to change?' he leaned forward so that his thighs supported his arms, hands clasped in front of his knees. 'This town needs Charming PD. Why can't Clay and Gemma see that I'm doing the right thing by the town and them?'

Gemma had told him that she didn't want to see him 'lost'. He hadn't lost sight of where his bread was buttered. He might complain once in a while about the decades long relationship with the club, but he'd meant what he'd told Clay just a day ago about feeling closer to the MC than his own department.

'At least I did feel that way,' Unser mused. "Who the Hell am I kidding? I still feel that way! No matter how Clay and Gem feel about me. That's what makes all this so damn difficult.' He knew the club was planning to leave town for Belfast to bring Abel back. Clay had said as much before the SJSD raid on the compound. As a father, he understood Jax's desire to find his son.

'God knows law enforcement didn't do squat to make it happen!' Though Clay hadn't mentioned when the club would leave, Unser knew it would be soon, possibly after Gemma's transfer. Which meant he'd need to stay alert the remainder of the day. 'What if - naw, she wouldn't try runnin' off again! She couldn't!' His stomach turned to ice at the idea that Gemma might try to flee the country with the club. His cop's intuition was screaming that she would.

'Let me be wrong about this,' he prayed fervently. 'If you're listening up there, God, please let my cop's instincts be wrong for once!'

---

Kozik paused in the doorway leading to the small apartments above the garage. He squinted from the bright sunlight reflecting off the parked bikes and the trunk of a black Olds that slowly rolled out the gate. He slipped his sunglasses on and stretched his arms over his head, chasing the last vestiges of drowsiness from his body. He wasn't needed in the clubhouse to plan the Belfast trip, so he'd slept in. All he had to do was be on hand for any club business that might come up before the mother charter departed.

Kozik had agreed to stay in Charming until the club returned from Belfast. Clay assured him by that time Tig would come around to agreeing to the transfer. "Besides, you're good with your hands and tools. I can always use another good mechanic," Clay assured him. "You can also help Piney with the prospects."

'It's not like a couple of weeks are gonna cost me anything. Not that I'm holdin' out hope that Tig'll change his mind, no matter how much pressure Clay puts on him,' Kozik mused dejectedly.

He glanced across the lot to the clubhouse entrance, half expecting that with his luck, the object of his thoughts would come striding out the door. Instead, he saw the thin, blond beauty he'd nearly hooked up with the previous night sitting on one of the picnic table benches. Her back was to the table, her face rested in her hands and her body was shaking, whether from laughter or crying was difficult to tell from his vantage point.

He walked quietly up to her in order to satisfy his curiosity, stopping just a few inches away from her. He listened as giant sobs wracked her frame and reached into the inner pocket of his cut to remove a relatively clean handkerchief.

"Here, doll! Wipe those beautiful eyes of yours!" he offered the material to her.

Ima turned red, tear filled eyes up at him, then the small square of cloth he held out to her. She accepted it with a shaky smile. "Th - thank you," she whispered huskily, blotting her eyes with the cloth. "

You're welcome. Wanna talk about it, darlin'? I've got two pretty good ears." He sat down on the bench beside her before she could answer, but left a small amount of space between them so she wouldn't feel pressured. Ima smiled grimly at him while she continued to wipe the tears from her face.

"You m - mean you h - haven't heard?"

"Darlin', I just got up. Haven't hear any news reports yet." His eyes traveled over her face, surprised that her make up wasn't running all over. 'Must be waterproof or some shit like that," he thought. His eyes narrowed at the angry red palm print on her cheek.

"Did Jax do that to ya, darlin'?" he growled. The club had one hard and fast rule, no patched or prospect member was allowed to raise a hand to a woman in anger.

Ima shook her head. "My friend - well, make that ex friend - Lyla did." She gestured with her shoulder at the clubhouse. "Everybody in there is mad at me."

"Just because ya spent the night with Jax?" Kozik had difficulty comprehending that. Jax had all but frog marched the blond beauty to the apartment.

"It's a little more complicated than that," Ima replied, wringing the handkerchief in her hands.

"Seems to me he knew what he was doin' last night! That doesn't account for Ope's girl slappin' ya over it!" Kozik stated.

"Jax's old lady found out about us. She barged into the apartment while I was using the bathroom. Our clothes were all over the floor. It was pretty obvious what we'd been doing in there," Ima replied tearfully. "Jax was just using me to push his old lady away from him."

Realization hit Kozik like a fist in the gut. 'The dick move! No wonder she's upset! Nobody deserves to be used like that!' He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Anything I can do?"

Ima looked at Kozik in surprise at the offer. He wasn't Jax, but he wasn't hard on the eyes, either. 'He genuinely seems to sympathize with me. That's a little hard to come by around here!' She glanced nervously at the clubhouse door, then back at Kozik. She felt an overwhelming desire to get away from the clubhouse. If Jax were to come out that door and find her hanging around, a slap on the face might be the least of her injuries.

"Could I trouble you for a ride home? My car's still in the shop and my ride left without me," Ima replied ruefully.

"Of course, darlin'!" Kozik stood up, offering a hand to help Ima up from the bench. She placed her hand in his, allowing him to assist her. His hand briefly clasped her own before he turned to lead her to his bike. "Afraid I don't carry a spare brain bucket, but you can use mine; I can go without for a few miles," he assured her, handing the helmet to her and mounting the Harley. He held it steady while Ima climbed onto the saddle behind him, resting her hands on his waist. "Ya ready, doll?"

"Yes, please!" she called out, the desire to get away growing stronger than ever. Kozik grinned and started the bike, put it in gear and rolled away from the parking area. He felt like he'd won a small victory. The VP might've claimed the blond for the night, but Kozik didn't mind batting clean up. It might be downright enjoyable.

They passed the clubhouse entry just as Clay, Jax, and Tig walked outside. Ima turned her face away from them, but Kozik couldn't resist waving at the trio before his bike reached the gateway and rolled out onto the street.

---

Tara mentally applauded Lyla's bitch slap on Ima as she drove on out of the compound and headed towards the hospital. The action didn't give her much relief from her heartache. All she could do now was focus on her work. The clinical part of her recognized that she was in shock. It encouraged her to focus on the need to do something more productive than crawling under the bed. She had patients to see, things to pack, a house to open back up. She had to move forward.

Tara turned off the ignition of her car and sat in the driver's seat, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. She'd refused to allow herself to think about Jax's betrayal while she drove to the hospital. But the image of his and Ima's clothes strewn across the apartment floor and his lying insolently in the rumpled bed, daring to say anything to him was seared in her mind's eye.

Her heart hurt. Her stomach felt sour. She wasn't sure if the gastric discomfort was due to morning sickness or the discovery that Jax had betrayed her with her arch rival.

'Of all the women he could've been with, why did he have to pick her? Tara wailed inwardly, crossing her arms over her churning

stomach. The tears she'd held at bay while she drove began pouring down her cheeks. Had it really only been a few days earlier that she'd

pointedly asked Jax if there was more to their relationship than playing house? She'd told him his habit of cozying up to other women,

including the porn stars, hurt her and she'd warned that he'd never accept his having sex with another woman.

'I gave him the perfect way to get rid of me when I said that!' Tara mourned.

She felt a small amount of comfort in the slap she'd witnessed Lyla administer to Ima as the Olds had glided past the clubhouse entrance. Though Tara had heard Ima scream an inquiry over Lyla's assault, she didn't know for sure why Lyla had slapped the taste out of Ima's mouth.

'Maybe she was actually having my back, like we were all talking about a few days ago!' Tara mused inwardly, referring to the get together they'd had at Cat's house to co – miserate the trials of tribulations of the MC day had started a lessening of hostilities between Lyla and Tara, though the other girl still carried a lot of hurt from Tara's initial ill mannered behavior. 'If Lyla was supporting me over Ima, it's a major step in the right direction!'

Tara had kept her eyes trained straight ahead as she had strode past Opie and Lyla at the clubhouse. She'd caught the fleeting expression of shock and sympathy on Lyla's face, but didn't want to talk to anyone about her discovery. She'd continued on to the entrance, unable to avoid hearing Lyla's angry response to Opie's negative comment about her associates. 'Her hand must be throbbing from slapping the taste out of two mouths in one day!'

Tara climbed out of the Olds and trudged wearily to the hospital's employee entrance. She wished she could take a personal day, but didn't want to push her luck after Margaret dropped the charges against her and reinstated her privileges.

---

The club's plans for the Belfast trip were complete. The club would wear jackets with only the Reaper Patch, no club name or location rockers due to their bond status.

Chibs had finally gotten through to Fiona in Belfast. Jimmy had placed her and his daughter in hiding the minute he and Fi returned to Ireland. It had taken time and effort on Fi's part to make contact with hiim. Jimmy wielded a very potent weapon to insure Fiona's continued co - operation. As Chibs had recently discovered, Jimmy had a sick, perverse interest in Kerrianne. He'd made no secret of his desire to dump Fiona in favor of her young, beguiling daughter.

Fiona had been unwilling to spend much time on the transatlantic cell call. She'd taken enough of a risk getting away long enough to use a pay phone to call Chibs. Unfotunately, she had no idea behind Jimmy's lies about Abel being in Belfast. "'E's completely shut me oot, Fillip," she added mournfully. "I'm skaired ta deaf tha' e'll make gud on 'is threat. Kerrianne's too young fer tha'!"

"It'll be a'right, Fi," Chibs assured her. "We're cummin' ta Belfast, tha' entire club. We'll be there by tomorrow afternoon."

"Oh, Fillip! Be cairful!" Her words warmed his heart. He couldn't wait to see and hold his daughter again after all the years of enforced separation.

"Yer gonna hafta figger oot a way ta git away frum Jimmy, love," he informed her. "Reach oot ta Father Kel. 'E kin keep ye safe until we git thair."

"Ah'll try me best," Fiona replied. "Ah love ye, Fillip."

"Gie me dather a hug fer me, an' be cairful yerself!" After he reported the intel he'd gathered from Fiona, Chibs mind turned from the safety of his 'gels'. He needed to break it to the club that one of the new prospects had nearly stepped in a pile of shit as high as his arse earlier that morning.

Chibs had been at 'Charming Pawse' for his morning tea and scone. He missed having a regular conversation with Lady Cat, but realized she had a long recovery ahead that limited her time at her business. He'd been sitting in his regular chair near the cat window, waiting for Misty to make her appearance when he heard a motorcycle engine nosily revving.

He'd looked out the window to see that Sebastian was parking his bike in the 'pick up only' parking area.

'Whut in 'Ell is tha' bhoy doin'? Cannae 'e read?' He watched in horrified fascination as Sebastian had strode into the coffeehouse as if he owned the place. He picked up a sample bag of whiskey blend and shoved it in the pocket of his cut. The new prospect was so intent on his mission that he never noticed Chibs sitting in the lounge watching his every move. '

This isna gud,' Chibs mused. "Ye'd think 'e woulda seen me bike outside. 'E achs lyke 'e's cock o'tha walk!'

Sebastian had strode right up to the counter, roughly shoving a customer aside. The customer had already placed and paid for his order and had been talking with Adrian while Pete made his drink.

"Yo, there!" he announced loudly, glaring menacingly at Adrian. "Black cawfee, and make it quick!"

"Excuse me!" the customer remarked indignantly. "The line forms in the rear!"

"It sure does," Sebastian snapped irritably. "It forms behind me! Don't forget who you're talkin' to!"

"A churlish boor from the looks of it," the customer observed, looking down his nose at the prospect.

"Excuse me, sir!" Adrian added before Sebastian could take exception to the customer's insult. "The gentleman was here first, and I do hope you intend to pay for that sample pack you pocketed!"

Sebastian glared angrily at Adrian who stared unflinchingly right back at him. The customer edged away from the prospect, murmuring that he wasn't in a hurry and would wait.

"Sir, you stay right where you are," Pete interjected from his place in front of the cappuccino maker. He gave Sebastian his own version of the 'stink eye.' "You were here first. I don't know who this guy thinks he is, but he's not bullying our customers just because he's a biker!"

"Looks like someone needs to teach you both to show proper respect to a member of SAMCRO!" Sebastian's growled. His eyes narrowed with anger. He expected instant respect, and he was going to demand that respect come Hell or high water.

Adrian laughed nastily. "Jesus! I didn't know the club had lowered their criteria for prospectin'!"

Pete made an admonishing gesture at his co - worker. Adrian ignored Pete, never taking his eyes off Sebastian. He knew if he did, the prospect would attack.

Before Sebastian could retaliate, Chibs had leaped from his chair and stormed to the counter. He grabbed the back of Sebastian's belt, pulling him away from the counter.

Sebastian yelped in surprise and some discomfort. Chibs' grasp had pulled his belt and the attached jeans tight against his crotch.

Chibs didn't release his hold on until they were both standing on the sidewalk in front of the coffeehouse. "Wha' tha' 'Ell d'ya think yer doin', laddie?" He roared.

"What did it look like I was doin'?" Sebastian snarled. He breathed an inward sigh of relief to have the pressure off his manly parts at last.

"Not tha' way, ye arsehole!" Chibs retorted angrily. "SAMCRO doesn't cut in line. Ye wait yer turn, same as enny other person!"

Sebastian spat on the sidewalk in disgust. "What's the use of bein' part of the club if ya don't get any perks from it?"

"Ye gotta lot ta lurn!" Chibs snorted. "Respect isnae given jest because ye be wearin' that cut! Respect is sumthin' ye urn! Whut ye jest did in thair wasnae respectful to Lady Cat!"

"Who the Hell is that bitch?" Sebastian's face scrunched up into a frown.

"Bhoy, aire ye naturally dum, or do ye hafta werk at it?" Chibs roared.

"What the fuck do ya mean?"

"Ye jest shite whair ye eat, bhoyo," Chibs replied. "Lady Cat is me 'eart sista, an' she's Tig's old lady. She 'appens ta own this place frum which we git a piece o' tha acthun!" He gestured angrily towards the plate glass window as he ranted, "Ye dinna 'ave ta steal tha' cawfee. Ifn ye dinna hev tha money, the bhoys woulda started ye a tab - jest becayse yer SAMCRO. Ye'll be lucky ifn Lady Cat doesnae scalp ye!" He thought a moment and grinned wickedly. "As it 'tis, yer gonna be lucky ifn Tig doesnae kill ye fer callin' his old lady a beyotch!"

The thought of being on the receiving end of Tig's ire scared Sebastian more than the idea of being scalped by a woman. "Does he hafta know?" Sebastian squeaked, all his bravado deserting him like a rat fleeing a sinking ship.

"Tha' remains ta be seen," Chibs replied. "Gie me tha' sample pack ye pocketed. Ah'll talk ta her bhoys; they'll lissen ta me."

Sebastian barely managed to hand over the small package of coffee; his hand shook so badly that he had difficulty removing it from his pocket. "What do you suggest I do, Chibs?"

"Go 'ome. Dinnae show yer face in tha' clubhoose today ifn ye kin whut's gud fer ye," he instructed. "Ah'll cover fer ye this oncet. Ah suggest ye think aboot wha' bein' a member of SAMCRO is all aboot. It's not aboot lootin' an' taykin' wha' ye want when ye want it; or aboot makin' civilians fear ye. It's aboot protectin' civilians; keepin' Charmin' tha' way it 'tis. Tha's hoo ye urn respect!" Chibs remained standing in front of the window, glaring angrily at the prospect, who was sweating profusely. "Ifn ye cannae find it in yerself ta be a proper member of this club, then beest tha' ye git oot now, while ye can. Now git outta 'ere!"

Sebastian had fled to his bike, and after several fumbling attempts, managed to start the engine. He race away from the coffeehouse without killing himself or someone else. Chibs had returned into the coffeehouse and turned over the purloined sample bag to Adrian. "Tha' wuz a close 'un, lad."

"I know, Chibs. But I knew you wouldn't let one of your own take undue advantage," Adrian grinned. "Are you guys really that desperate for warm bodies?"

"No, laddie," Chibs sighed. The weight of mentoring the prospects felt heavier on his shoulders than usual. He had now had a very bad feeling about Sebastian's future with the club. If the man couldn't get over his lust for special treatment at the expense of others, he wouldn't last a month as a prospect. "Do me a favor, will ye?" he added, including Pete in his gaze.

"You'd prefer we not mention this to Miss Cat or Mr. Tig," Pete observed.

"Aye. They've goot enuf on thair minds as it 'tis. It's my job ta handle tha prospects."

Adrian and Pete nodded in agreement. "Sounds good to us. Miss Cat's been overdoing as it is lately, and things are about to get more explosive." Pete added.

"Whut do ye mean by tha'?" Adrian pointed to the bulletin board. "See for yourself. I'm surprised things are so quiet around back. Unless she's not told Mr. Tig about it."

"She did," Pete informed them. "CJ helped her draw up the petition and the announcement yesterday. No seismic monitors went off at UCLA, so he must be OK with it."

Chibs ambled over to the bulletin board and scanned the announcement Pete had referenced. A wide grin spread over his features. "Ah'll git this thin' started bhoys!" He signed his full name to the petition with a flourish.

"Thanks, Mr. Chibs," Adrian grinned.

"Yer welcum. An' laddie, next tyme one o' me prospects gits outta 'and in me presence, let me 'andle 'im." Chibs pulled his attention from his concern over Sebastian to settle into his chair. He glanced knowingly at Tig, wondering if he was going to bring the club up to speed on Cat's latest idea to help them.

Tig glanced about the chapel, relieved that Kozik was absent. The news he had to share was for his brothers' ears only. He didn't need Kozik making things more difficult with his sarcastic comments.

Piney started to leave the chapel, but Tig called out for him to wait. Piney glared at the SAA out of the corner of his eye. Though part of him accepted the circumstances that led to Tig mistakenly shooting Donna, a part of him still found it hard to forgive the SAA for the act, much less going along with Clay in casting blame on the One Niner gang. Piney returned to his seat, casting a baleful glare at Tig. "This better be good."

"It is, old man," Tig replied. "Cat's gonna run for city council."

Chibs smiled slyly. 'Ah wuunered win ye wuz gonna say sumthin' aboot it!" He decided then to hold off mentioning Sebastian. 'Mebbe tha bhoy weel settle down. Ah'll jest hev ta keep me eye on 'im.'

His brothers stared around the table at each other. The idea of Cat running for city council was good news, but it didn't make sense that Tig would make such a big deal out of it just a few hours before they were to leave for Belfast.

Clay straightened in his chair, realizing that Tig was about to 'come clean' with his brothers about his marital status. He shrugged mentally. 'It was bound to come out with her goin' up against Hale's boy. Guess he has a good reason for bringin' it up now.'

"She put out petitions at the coffeehouse this morning to see if there's enough support to get on the ticket." Tig continued, feeling slightly discomforted at his brothers' scrutiny.

"What's that got to do with us?" Happy growled. Politics didn't matter to him, he just wanted to get to Belfast, get Abel, and get back.

"I'm gettin' to that. One of Hale's lackeys got his drawers in a wad about it, ratted her out to Hale."

"So?" Happy interjected. "Cat can handle that fuckwad."

Tig flipped the bird at Happy. "Ya think I don't know that? Problem is, Hale's already playin' dirty, and tipped off the press to the fact that we got married in Vegas some time ago."

Shocked silence met his announcement. None of the men had questioned his hooking up with Cat in the first place. The news that he'd chosen to get married at all stunned them.

"Why were ya hidin' it, Tigger?" Piney snarled, breaking the silence at last. "Ya ashamed of your spouse?"

Tig glared angrily at the founding member of the club. "Fuck no, old man! Cat thought the club's enemies would try to use her against us – or me – if they knew we were married. I went along with it because it seemed the best way to keep her safe." He glared meaningfully around the room. "Guess we all know how well that worked!"

Piney glanced down at the table, unable to meet the seething SAA's eyes. He knew how much agony Tig had gone through the night of the crash, which followed the gang rape of Gemma by Zobelle's henchmen. Only Tara and Lyla had been spared from LOAN'S wrath.

"Poor Cat!" Juice murmured under his breath. "No wonder she looks so tired lately. She's havin' to keep up with his appetites!"

Wide grins and guffaws broke out over the intel officer's remark.

"I don't recall askin' for your opinion!" Tig retorted. His comment was met with more smirks and guffaws.

Chibs strode across the chapel to stand nearly nose to nose with Tig. "Lady Cat kin tayke care o' 'erself, boot ifn ye ever don't treat 'er right, yer gonna 'ave ta deal wid me, brother!" Chibs growled warningly before giving Tig the 'bro hug double back tap'. T

he others crowded around to congratulate Tig on having the good sense to make an honest woman out of Cat. "We'll have to have some kind of party to celebrate!" Bobby added, slapping Tig on his good shoulder.

"It's gonna have to be tame compared to most of our parties," Tig retorted wryly. "Cat doesn't take too well to our big blasts."

"We'll just keep it amongst the family. No porn stars, Croweaters, or hangarounds," Clay pronounced. "That'll keep the women happy. Gem will – "

Their momentary elation fell flat at Clay's mention of Gemma. She always planned the 'family' parties and dinners, even those that came up at the last minute. She wouldn't have anything to do with this one because of her incarceration.

"It's only right that we do somethin' to celebrate this miraculous event, even though Gemma can't attend," Juice observed, breaking the uncomfortable silence. His brothers turned questioning eyes on him him. Clay's teeth bit right through his cigar in reaction to the intel officer's comment.

"Ya care to explain that?" Clay rumbled ominously.

Juice's adam's apple bobbed wildly, but he met Clay's fierce glare without flinching. "Think about how many times Cat's proven her loyalty to the club. Hell, man! She's as valuable to us as Tara!"

The club, with the exception of Jax and Tig, nodded agreement. The list of things she'd done on the club's behalf – often without them having to ask – was formidable: organizing a blood drive for Juice at two hospitals; making the club a partner in her business; being a sponsor of their charity rides that covered for their RIRA gun smuggling. Her most recent act was to check herself out of the hospital to give them a safe place to mourn Sack's murder and recover from Abel's and Gemma's disappearance.

"You're right, Juice," Clay murmured. "We'll make it happen."

Jax had winced at Juice's reference to his now former old lady. Hearing her name caused more pain than he'd anticipated. 'I'm gonna have to get used to it. Can't let myself fall apart every time her name is mentioned.'

Clay exchanged a significant look with his VP, clearly communicating his wish to talk about 'the dick move' and its' possible affect on the club. Jax had no doubt that Tara would remain loyal to the club, but he knew Clay had concerns that had to be soothed.

"Nice of ya to come out to us about it, but what makes ya think the press is gonna follow up on the tip?" Bobby inquired.

"That reporter from Channel 2 called to warn her this mornin'," Tig replied. "The media's gonna be descendin' on her like flies on a pile of horseshit!"

"Isna he tha' same oone wha' told 'er aboot tha' Amber Alert bein' canceled?" Chibs asked.

Tig nodded. "He was also the only reporter that covered the Peace Rally."

"You're not gonna let her battle that horde on her own?" Juice inquired sharply.

Tig favored Juice with 'the look'. "What kind of question is that?"

Juice shrugged. "Damn, Tig! This is uncharted territory for us where you're concerned!" he mumbled.

"Cat was plannin' somethin' with her staff and that reporter. I'm goin' back to stand with her when she faces down those fucktards."

"As you should," Bobby muttered darkly.

Juice's sigh of relief was echoed by the rest of the club. Several of them muttered dark epithets against Jacob Hale's immediate future. "

Take it easy, guys!" Clay barked. "Don't forget Cat was a reporter once. She knows what's she's doin'!"

"Woon't yer bein' there backfire on 'er?" Chibs inquired worriedly. "Ifn yer there wid 'er, them ass'oles might try ta bend tha story ta proove Lady Cat is a SAMCRO puppet!"

Tig grinned mischievously. "Don't let my girl hear ya say that! She might scalp ya bald headed!" He glanced at Juice and added, "Go get the laptop, bring up the coffeehouse website. There's somethin' on there that'll answer that question better'n I can."

Juice recovered his laptop from his backpack and returned to his chair. The clubhouse had added wi - fi some time ago, so he had no difficulty pulling up the Charming Pawse website. "What am I looking for, Tig?"

"Go to the 'What's New' section. She posted the announcement there."

Everyone except Tig huddled around Bobby and Juice as the intel officer accessed the site. Tig remained standing with his arms across his chest, watching his brothers.

Juice waited until Clay gave the signal for him to play the attached video. Tig grinned as the opening bars to 'I've Got No Strings'issued from the laptop's small speaker. The riders looked at each other then grinned. They appreciated her humourous response to the biggest claim Hale could make against her candidacy.

"Bravo, sistah!" Chibs hooted when the song stopped. He'd read the petition, but hadn't had a chance to see the on line announcement and accompanying video. "Ah couldna hev sed it enny better meself!"

"Good for Cat!" Clay rumbled approvingly. "She knew Hale would claim she'd be nothin' but a puppet for SAMCRO. She's knocked a big ass hole in his argument before he could even start it!"

"That's my girl!" Tig crowed proudly.

"I suggest we all sign that petition before we leave for Belfast," Clay announced.

"Won't that cause more trouble for her?" Happy inquired.

"Noot ifn we go separately un sign our legal names," Chibs explained. "Ah did tha' earlier."

"Good!" Clay rapped the gavel to signal the meeting was over. "We've still got things to do before we leave. We'll meet back here this afternoon to go to Stockton"

Tig gripped Chibs' shoulder as the others ambled out of the chapel. "Thanks for not stealin' my thunder about Cat."

Chibs merely nodded and followed his brothers into the main clubhouse area. "Jest mayke shure tha' Lady Cat doesna get in o'er 'er 'ead wi' tha media!"

Tig nodded and followed Jax and Clay out of the clubhouse. He had to get back home while the other two planned to visit with Gemma for a bit.

Kozik's bike roared past them just as they stepped outside. He lifted one hand in salute before turning onto the street from the compound. All three were surprised to see the unpopular Ima sitting behind him.

"Hope Herman's had his shots!" Tig muttered, earning a bark of laughter from Clay. The news of 'the dick move' had traveled through the clubhouse like a California wild fire.

Jax purposely stared straight ahead, refusing to react to the SAA's comment. His features etched in granite, as if he were trying to convince himself that he didn't give a fuck that Ima had taken off with another Son so soon after being tossed out of the VP's bed.

Tig shook his head slightly and stalked to his Dyna, strapping the helmet on his head and mounting the bike.

Clay stopped in front of his bike and Tig looked inquiringly at him.

"Quite a surprise that she's runnin' for that council seat. Sorry you two are takin' heat for it already."

"Bound to come out sometime," Tig shrugged. "Glad the guys understood why we kept it on the QT."

"The thing with LOAN had somethin' to do with that," Clay replied, inhaling deeply on his new cigar. "Kinda wish you'd said somethin' about her plans before this."

"Hell, Ididn't know about it until yesterday!"

"I'm not surprised. You'd better get goin'." Clay turned to his bike and added, "Just don't start actin' like some damn diva just 'cause your mug's been on TV!"

Tig grinned, started his bike and opened the throttle, letting the Dyna's engine answer Clay. The Prez grinned and lifted one finger in a salute as Tig put the Dyna in gear and roared from the parking lot.

Clay then turned to his step - son, nodded his head towards the tow truck parked nearby and rumbled ominously, "Step into my office."

---

The camera operator stopped the Channel 2 news van in the parking lot down the street from 'Charming Pawse'. He and Windover remained in the van where they could watch the front door and listen to the scanner.

This parking lot was the same one the media s had been sent to park during the Main Street standoff between the Mayans and SAMCRO, freeing space near the coffeehouse for Cat's regular customers. Windover hoped that the competition would see their van parked in the lot and follow his example.

"Not a peep about this from the other stations," the camera operator observed

needlessly. "What if we're the only reporters that show up?"

"Then Pesta creams his drawers for having a scoop," Windover grumbled.

"I had to ask!" the camera operator moaned, pinching his nose with the fingers of one hand. "What do you think she's gonna do about this?"

"Knowing Ms. Marshall, she's going to put a unique spin on it."

The camera operator nodded approvingly. "Should make for a good sound bite."

Before Windover could protest, he added quickly, "If it doesn't come out today,

she'll just have to deal with it later. Frankly, I think she's got a better chance facing up to it now."

"I suppose that's true. God knows she can play the sympathy card from her injuries, and remind people that it was Jacob Hale who brought LOAN to Charming in the first place."

"What good will that do?" the camera operator inquired. "Hale isn't running for office."

"Not yet," Windover replied. "There's talk that Hale is planning to run for mayor. What's not known is if anyone plans to run against him. If not, he'll win by default, and the town will need someone to watch out for their best

interests!"

"And you think Ms. Marshall is the person to do that?"

"You've seen her in action," Windover replied. "Need I say more?"

The camera operator shook his head and crawled to the back of the van to prepare his equipment. Windover pulled out his personal cell phone to call her again. He'd used it instead of the station issued cell so he wouldn't be harpooned by Pesta about calling the businesswoman later.

Cat saw the call come in and answered on the first ring. "You set up, darlin'?"

"We're in the parking lot, but we're the only ones here at the moment."

Cat frowned thoughtfully. "Do y'all radio in to the newsroom when you're on scene?"

"No. We call in on cell phones. Less likely that the competition will - ah, I see where you're heading!"

"I hoped y'all would catch on! This is one time when you want the competition to know what's goin' on. Hale wants this to be a big deal, we're gonna make it look like he's gettin' his wish."

Windover grinned wickedly. "You've got a very wicked way about you, Cat."

"So I'm told," she laughed.

---

June was worried. Though Cat had been laughing and joking with her earlier that morning, she could tell that her best friend was not feeling very well. Her pale features had told June more about her condition than any words she might've spoken.

She roamed the halls of St. Thomas, hoping to run into either Dr. Knowles or Dr. Gallagher. 'HIPPA rules don't prevent me from confidin' my concerns about Cat's health, whether she likes it or not!'

She finally spotted Dr. Knowles striding down the hall towards her. June waved her down.

Tara stopped and gazed inquiringly at the woman, who sported a temporary employee ID badge. "May I help you?"

"Hi, Dr. Knowles, we've not met. I'm June Kruckle," she held out her hand in greeting.

A puzzled expression crossed Tara's face as she returned the handshake. "Oh, yeah. The contractor that's straightening out all our compliance issues! Is there a problem with my paperwork?"

"No nothing like that. I need to talk to you about something – or rather – someone else."

Tara nodded, mutely inviting the shorter woman to continue.

"You might not know that I'm also Cat Marshall's friend. Been stayin' with her since I got here."

"I knew she had a friend staying with her, but didn't make the connection," Tara replied warmly. "What's wrong with Cat?"

"I think her anemia's acting up on her; she's complainin' of bein' cold and tired all the time, but she wouldn't call any doctor, even her own!" June explained.

"Let me guess, she's attributing it to the injuries," Tara supplied. J

une nodded, a sense of relief flooded through her that the physician had recognized the problem so quickly. "I've tried to tell her otherwise, but she's one stubborn girl when she wants to be!"

"Tig's complained about it a time or two," Tara grinned.

"Were y'all aware she's due in for a checkup? I'm bringin' her in later."

"Don't worry," Tara assured her. "I'll touch base with both of her doctors, Gallagher and Symthe."

"Good," June sighed. "I've been sorely tempted to knock her out and make her rest awhile. She's not a very patient patient!"

"I noticed!" Tara laughed. "I appreciate you telling me about this, we'll be ready to take care of her when she gets in!"

"Thanks," June grinned back, extending a slip of paper to the doctor. "Here's my extension and my cell number. Please keep me posted if anything drastic happens."

"I'll do that. Nice to finally meet you, just wish the circumstances were different."

June shrugged. "It's standard procedure where Cat's concerned. By the way, no worries about y'all's paperwork. Everythin' you've submitted has passed muster with flyin' colors."

"Thanks!" Tara beamed. That was one less thing she had to worry about.

June grinned and turned back to go to her office. Her break was almost over and she still had to mentally prepare for the meeting with the hospital administrator and the Chief of Staff. She planned to use her lunch break to retrieve Cat and bring her to the hospital. 'No rest for the wicked, but at least the weary is finally gonna get some rest today!'

---

Kozik surveyed the comfortable living room of Ima's apartment. She'd invited him to come up when they'd arrived at her apartment building. He readily agreed, as he didn't have anything better to do with his time. 'Beats gettin' the stink eye from Tig!' he observed. He followed Ima up the stairs, enjoying the seductive sway of her back end as she moved. 'Better view, too!' he grinned.

Ima excused herself to change, leaving Kozik to his own devices in the living room. It was a clean, comfortable room.

'What the fuck did ya expect? Disco bulbs and stripper poles?'

The furnishings were stylish and of good quality, with feminine and personal touches here and there. A few throw pillows and some knick knacks were strategically placed about. There was also a large framed poster of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays baseball team hung over the entertainment center.

He strode to the refrigerator and helped himself to a beer. 'She did say to make myself at home!' he observed, carrying the beer over to the couch. He sat down, picked up the remote, and aimed it at the television. He channel surfed through the various channels, passing soap operas, game shows, cable news, home shopping, and old movies until he found a sports channel that interested him. He relaxed against the back of the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table and sipped his beer.

He could water running in the distance and assumed Ima was taking a shower. He had no idea what would happen once she rejoined him. There was no doubt that he'd like to get it on with the blonde beauty, but he wasn't about to rush her. There was something about the vulnerability she'd displayed at the clubhouse earlier that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He didn't have a steady girl waiting for him back in Tacoma. He hadn't had a steady woman in his life in a long time. Casual sex had served to give him physical relief when he needed it, but he knew his life was sorely lacking something in it.

'Maybe I'm gettin' old. It's just not fun to bone some chick just because she's willin' to open her legs. I want somethin' more than a willin' body,' Kozik mused, taking another swallow of beer. 'I want someone to come home and be glad to see me; someone who'll accept me for what I am, whatever that may be.'

He wondered how difficult it might be to win Ima over. She'd looked pretty crushed that Jax had been using her in a 'dick move'. 'It'll take her awhile to get over that hurt, 'specially if she cared for him. I think she did. Bein' a porn star's another problem. She might not believe a guy could want a real relationship with her. Hell, after today, she might not wanna be with another guy!'

He thought wistfully about the pixie faced redhead he'd met at Cat and Tig's house a few days earlier. If only - He shook his head and took a long pull from his beer. 'Nah. Forget it, man. That girl's a civilian and not for you. She's also Cat's best friend, and that would make Tig more volatile than he already is. I don't need or want that, and she don't need the complications.'

A flash of gold and grey alerted him to Ima's entry into the living room. He looked up with a welcoming smile to see her dressed in a PSU sweatshirt, yoga pants, and sneakers. Her hair was tied in a simple pony tail and she had no make up on. The only color on her face came from the red palm print Lyla's slap had left. She looked even more enticing than she had in her porn star get up. He watched her glide across the room. She seemed to move as gracefully as a trained dancer.

"Feel better, darlin'?" he asked casually.

"A bit," she replied wanly. "I see you found the beer."

"Sorry," he hastily removed his feet from her coffee table and placed the bottle on a coaster.

Ima motioned for him to retrieve the bottle. "No, please, it's OK. How do you like it?"

Kozik picked up the bottle and read the label for the first time. "Not bad. Never had Japanese rice beer before."

Ima glided into the kitchenette to fix a cold pack for her face. "I think it's more refreshing than domestic beers. Less aftertaste."

"Yeah, I kinda like it," he murmured. 'The gal's got good taste, not like most porn stars.' He pointed the bottle at her shirt, "Did ya go to that school?"

"I'm taking courses on line, majoring in psychology," she admitted warily. She waited for him to make a rude remark at her expense.

Kozik's eyes widened with surprise, but he only gave voice to his thoughts in his mind. 'Wow! Brains and beauty!' He cleared his throat and replied, "So you're not gonna be in the porn business for life?"

She smiled wryly at his question. "Age is your friend in this business. I figure on being able to count on two or three more years before the camera at the most, if that."

"And after?"

She shrugged. "That's why I'm taking the courses. I just don't have any interest i working behind the scenes like LuAnn did."

"Nothin' wrong with havin' a plan for the future," he assured her. "Gettin' a little long in the tooth myself, savin' up to have my own business when I can't ride any longer."

Ima smiled benignly at his plans as she retrieved some ice cubes from the freezer. She placed them in a zip close plastic bag, then wrapped the bag in a decorative tea towel. She winced when the cold touched the sensitive skin on her cheek.

"Hurt a lot?"

"A little. I'll survive," she shrugged. "I know this is going to sound a little crass, after asking for a ride and inviting you in, but what's your name, anyway?" "Kozik," he replied.

"Ima," she offered, gliding back to the couch to curl up in the corner opposite him.

He extended his hand to her. "Nice to meetcha!"

She gazed at his hand a moment as if she expected it to attach her face or throat. Then she hesitantly extended her own hand to accept his. 'Gently, dude. Ya don't wanna scare her!' he reminded himself, enfolding her delicate hand in hissun bronzed one.

"Thanks for the ride home," Ima added after a few moments' uncomfortable silence.

"No worries, darlin'. You looked like ya needed a friend."

"I did - I mean I do - I mean, oh Hell I don't know what I mean!" she cried. "I'm sorry. You've got better things to do than listen to my troubles!"

"Hey, hey! It's a'right, darlin'!" Kozik exclaimed sympathetically. "You're entitled to be upset after what you've been through! If cryin' your eyes out makes ya feel any better, go right ahead." He decided to take the bull by the horns and make the first move. He set the beer down again and slid closer to her. "Lissen, I'm not a pretty boy like the VP, but if ya want a shoulder to cry on, I've been told mine's pretty comfy!"

Ima glanced out the side of her eye at him. Was he playing a nasty trick on her or was he being genuine? It was hard to tell. 'Oh, what the Hell! He's offering, and he's not trying to dick me - yet!' She slowly unfurled herself from her protective huddle in the corner of the couch and moved into his inviting embrace. She rested her head on his shoulder as the tears slid down her cheeks.

The only move he made then was to allow one arm to protectively around her shoulders. He gave her all the comfort she was willing to take.

Ima found herself relaxing in Kozik's one armed embrace. It felt strange to her to be in a man's arms and not have it lead to hot sex. Another new experience for her was that he didn't expect her to have sex with him. "I suppose you'll have to go back to the clubhouse before too long," she sniffled, suddenly finding herself reluctant to be left alone.

"Not at all, darlin'," he assured her. "There's nothin' on my agenda; the club's too busy gettin' ready to go to Belfast. I'll stay as long as ya want me to."

Ima looked up at him, taking in his ruggedly handsome profile. She smiled through her tears and burrowed closer to him. 'He's not Jax, but he's also not a complete asshole, either! Maybe he's just being nice, but if he's genuinely looking to be a friend, I'd like to explore that and see where it leads.'

---

Hector Salazar and his SAA had been watching the outside of the Grim Bastard's SAA's house for over an hour. They were sitting inside a non descript looking two door sedan and looked like any other working stiffs waiting to pick up a member of the car pool.

Their 'borrowed' car was parked several houses from their target. Another way to avoid arousing the neighbors' suspicions.

Salazar could care less about the neighbors. The killing frenzy that had taken over since he'd been humiliated by SAMCRO demanded appeasement.

None of his club knew that he'd ratted out the Mayans' heroin pipeline, but the shame and humiliation of that burned in Salazar's soul. As did the physical hurt the SAMCRO VP inflicted on his woman.

There was only one way to ease the lust and that was to spill blood. Any blood would do at this point. He'd prefer to spill SAMCRO blood, but any blood would do.

"Mierda! Estoy harto de esperar!" Salazar spat, glaring at the Cadillac parked in the drive of the Grim Bastard's SAA's house. "How long do we have to wait for that bitch to finish with fucking a man?"

The SAA shrugged. He secretly hoped the woman would stay in the house for the rest of the day. The longer she woman stayed, the more dangerous the task grew. He hoped that the wait would make Salazar come to his senses and wait for another time and place.

The Caddy had pulled in just as the two Calavarez had parked nearby. They'd watched a handsome woman walk to the front door and use a key to gain access. Two children wrapped themselves around the woman's legs before she laughingly guided them back inside and shut the door.

Salazar drummed his fingers in agitation against the steering wheel. He hadn't anticipated that the man would have an early morning visitor, much less that there would be children in the house.

The SAA sat in silence in the passenger seat. He didn't like the path this particular job was taking. He'd protested vehemently when Salazar had first come to him with the idea.

"Esse,you just don't do that kind of thing at another man's home! No outlaw would do such a thing!"

"Bullshit!" Salazar had spat. It's been done, remember that documentary we saw a few weeks ago?"

"What about it?" The SAA certainly did remember the program. The hit had gone down in Florida years ago, the leader of one club was alledgedly gunned down by a rival club, right in his home where his daughter had discovered the body.

"That it has been done before!" Salazar hissed.

"Not here!" The SAA protested. "It's never happened here!"

"Then we'll be the first to kill the gilipollas in his own home," Salazar grinned maliciously.

The SAA continued to protest. That angered Salazar more. "If you're too scared, amigo, I can easily appoint another SAA."

He'd finally agreed to the job, but only because Salazar had called his courage into question. He continued in the belief that they shouldn't do the hit in the man's home, but he wisely held his own counsel.

Now the SAA could see that blood lust rising again to take control of his Prez. The agitation, the restlessness, the hair - trigger temper were screaming at the SAA that the situation was getting out of control.

"Basta ya!" Salazar snarled. "Innocent women and children be damned. We kill him and his familia and be done with it!"

To the SAA's horror, Salazar withdrew a silencer from his shirt pocket and picked up the handgun resting on the bench seat beside them. He attached the silencer to the gun's barrel, then checked the clip to make sure it was loaded. He filled the chamber and handed it to the SAA.

The officer stared dumbly at the gun, momentarily forgetting how to handle it.

"Esse! You can't be serious!"

"Quit whining!" Salazar snarled, pushing the gun into his SAA's hands. The other's hands involuntarily clenched the gun to his chest, hoping it wouldn't go off and leave a big hole in him.

"The safety's still on," Salazar grimly informed him. "I wouldn't put it past you to shoot yourself to prevent this from happening!"

The SAA glanced guiltily at his President. He'd actually momentarily considered that possibility.

"Don't try it, hermano. I'll leave your bloody carcass and do the job on my own!"

Salazar reached out to open the car door. The SAA glanced at the target house, then grabbed his President by the arm and pointed at the front porch. "Look!"

Salazar followed the SAA's pointing finger to see the front door open. The handsome woman who'd entered earlier shephered the two children, now carrying back packs, onto the front porch.

Salazar sat like a statue, watching the woman and the children as the woman turned back to the door.

The SAA sighed in relief. The woman and children were obviously leaving. Now innocent blood wouldn't be spilled. Salazar might be lost in a blood frenzy, but he'd never take a shot out in the open.

The Grim Bastard's SAA appeared in the doorframe, a large smile lighted his face as he waved at the children. The woman smiled indulgently, stepped forward, and rewarded him with a peck on the cheek.

The children rushed to him, giving him another hug while the woman walked to the Caddy and unlocked the doors with a remote. . She opened the back door and held it open for the children.

The black man hugged both children to him, then sent them on their way to the Caddy. He watched as their mother secured them in the child seats and closed the door. The woman blew a kiss at him as she walked to the driver's side and got into the car.

Both Salazar and the SAA slid down in their seats as the Caddy backed from the driveway. They waited while the vehicle rolled past their car, then waited a few more minutes to insure the woman's car had turned the corner and rolled out of sight.

The Calavarez SAA peeked over the dash to make sure their target had gone back inside. "It's clear, esse," the SAA reported.

Salazar nodded and opened the car door. He stood up and gently closed the door behind him, making sure it didn't make any noise that would alert anyone to their presence.

Assured that the woman and children were safe from his President's wrath, the SAA was all business. He followed Salazar's example and stuck the gun under his belt behind his back.

The pair moved quickly and quietly down the street to the target house. All was quiet on the street as they approached.

"Que asco! Que pisshouse!" The SAA murmured when they reached the back yard. "It looked so well kept out front."

"Silencio!" Salazar hissed, waving his hand at his companion. "Quires que nos reglan?"

"No, I am not trying to give us away!"

"Then be quiet!" Salazar snarled, edging closer to the back porch.

They waited tensely at the back steps, prepared to shoot it out with their target if he appeared at the back door. When several minutes passed without a confrontation, they relaxed and moved stealthily onto the porch.

With the ease of long experience, they communicated with hand signals as they gained access into the interior. The SAA made entry first after scanning the immediate inside to find a safe hiding place.

He picked out a small room off the back entry and signaled to Salazar to go there. The President nodded, took a deep breath, then rushed silently into the room.

The SAA waited to see if the movement attracted attention. Salazar was squatting in the small room, the barrel of his gun pointed at the floor. He nodded at his SAA, who eased inside, keeping a hand on the back door so it wouldn't slam behind him.

He joined his President in the small room, sweat running down his face. They listened closely, unable to hear anything but the sound of cereal being poured into a bowl.

Salazar held his gun in ready position. The SAA mirrored him. They silently counted down, then ran into the kitchen with their guns blazing.

The outlaw's body jerked from the impact of the multiple bullets, though the first two shots instantly killed him. The two assailants continued shooting until there were no more bullets to fire.

Salazar dropped his gun on the floor and strode to the table, where the dead man's head was face down in his cereal bowl. Blood mixed with milk and cereal dripped on the floor from the table, forming a pink and yellow puddle on the tile.

"Vamanos, esse! We hafta get outta here!" The SAA hissed.

"We've got time!" Salazar retorted, a manical gleam in his eyes. He drew his hunting knife from his belt sheath and held it up over his head for a moment.

As the SAA watched in stunned disbelief, his President viciously drew the knife in a downward arc, stuffing it right into the dead man's skull. Salazar pushed on the knife until half of the blade was protruding from the biker's head.

As a further display of his disdain and hate, Salazar spit at the wound he'd created in the dead man's skull, watching dispassionately as the spittle ran into the hole around the blade.

"Esse! C'mon!" The SAA grabbed Salazar's gun and bolted for the door. He didn't care if his President followed him or not. All he wanted was to get safely away from the scene of the crime.

Salazar stood silently next to his victim, then tore a piece of fabric from the Grim Bastard's SAA's shirt and stuck it in one of the bleeding bullet wounds. He wanted to make sure that there'd be no doubt who had killed the outlaw.

He smeared a '3' and a '12' on the tablecloth in front of the dead man's head, then dropped the cloth on the floor and strode from the kitchen.

---

Following her brief conversation with June Kruckle, Tara immediately searched out Dr. Gallagher. She found him at a nurse's station in one of the wards, writing notes in a chart.

"I understand Cat Marshall's due in later for an exam," she greeted him.

"If she shows up for it," Dr. Gallagher huffed. "Sounds like the hospital gossip mill's been churning again."

"She'll show. She wants to be rid of those bandages," Tara assured him.

"Since you're co - ordinating physician, you might as well know her blood work showed a low red blood count."

Tara frowned in concern. "Hmmm. That's not good. I've heard reports that she's been complaining of being cold and tired but blaming the injuries."

Dr. Gallagher shook his head. "Oh, the injuries are a contributing factor, but it's her anemia. She's not getting enough iron, so I'm going to give her an infusion today."

"I'm surprised you didn't do it while she was admitted."

"I had it ordered, and was going to administer it the day she checked out on us," Dr. Gallagher replied ruefully.

Tara made a note on her PDA to pay a friendly visit to Cat once she was admitted. "That should help."

"In fact, Dr. Smythe and I have decided to admit her for the day. That way we can run all the tests at one time, and get that infusion done. I probably should let him tell you, but I know he's a little concerned about her eye."

"Didn't the surgery remove the entire glass sliver?"

"As far as I know it did. But corneal scratches can be tricky."

"Then you two have a good idea about admitting her, whether she thinks so or not!" Tara laughed. "At least she'll be in the best place if there's a problem with her eye."

"I imagine Tig'll be relieved to get her to rest!" Dr. Gallagher grinned, leaning against the counter while she made more notes in her PDA. "Will you be around later?"

"Most likely. Gemma's being transferred today, that's going to be rough for her."

Dr. Gallagher nodded sympathetically. "If it makes a difference, I don't believe she should be in jail for something she didn't do!"

'Actually, Gemma shot and killed Polly Zobelle,' Tara thought. "Stahl was the one who killed Edmond Hayes and pinned the bad shoot on Gemma!' She was hard put to keep from showing her aggravation at the hospital gossip mill. Cat wasn't the only victim of the grapevine.

"That's not the reason she's going to county!" she growled.

"I figured it was because she skipped town," Dr. Gallagher observed.

Tara gazed intently at him, wondering if he was fishing for more information to add to the rumor mill.

As if he knew where her thoughts were taking her, Dr. Gallagher added, "I'm not out to cause trouble, Tara. I like the club. They might be outlaws, but at least they're honestoutlaws!"

"Isn't that a bit of a misnomer?" Tara grinned.

"Maybe," he shrugged. "But I'll tell you this, Jacob Hale took that Zobelle character around to every prominent citizen in town. He also brought the guy around to the hospital, introducing him as some kind of saint to the administration!"

"I didn't know that!" Tara exclaimed.

"It was right after his cigar store opened," Gallagher explained. "I could tell he was slimier than a snake oil salesman. SAMCRO did us a favor running him out of town!"

Tara's suspicion turned into surprise at Dr. Gallagher's speech. She recalled that he'd attended the peace rally, and had openly scoffed at the many charitable contributions Zobelle had made to the hospital.

"Why do you think I went along with Fillip Telford's act?" he added. "It wasn't just because I knew it was the right thing to do, regardless of insurance rules. Nor was it to have you owe me something in return. It was my way of saying thanks to the club."

"Th – that's very kind of you," Tara stammered.

"Don't mention it, at least in Margaret's hearing," Gallagher laughed conspiratorially.

"I won't," she promised. She slipped her PDA in her pocket and smiled at the physician. "I'll see you later."

---

Jax climbed into the passenger side of the tow truck as Clay lumbered into the driver's seat. They kept the windows rolled up except for a small crack to allow the accumulated smoke to ventilate.

"What the Hell were you thinkin' of this mornin'?" Clay roared. The volume and force of his step - father's voice made Jax wince. "It's obvious what ya were thinkin' with!" Clay added angrily. "Is that your idea of teachin' Tara a lesson for rattin' us out to the cops about drugs?"

Stung more by Clay's accusation against Tara than his comments about his mind, Jax yelled back, "Tara didn't rat us out!"

"You know this for a fact?" Clay inquired roughly.

"Yes!" Jax spat. "Eglee told me the Sheriff's office got the tip from a 'prominent citizen of Charming' that wished to remain anonymous."

"Hale! I should've known. But how did he -?" Clay nearly bit his replacement cigar in two as he realized who the real rat had been. "Darby. It had to be his way to get revenge for us shuttin' down the pussy and meth trade!"

"How do you know this for a fact?" Jax shot back, giving Clay a taste of his own medicine.

"Don't get smart, son!" Clay growled back, his anger at Jax momentarily smothered by anger at Darby. "It makes sense."

Jax inhaled on his cigarette and stared directly out the window. "Guess you're right. Darby got burned up pretty good in the arson at Caracara - probably been getting treatments - ah, shit!"

Seeing the stricken look on Jax's face made Clay's stomach hurt. "Where did you and Tara unload the HIV meds?"

"The Jefferson Clinic," Jax moaned, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Knowin' Darby, he prolly went there for treatment."

"And he must've been there when we made the hand off!" Jax quickly described how the deal between him and the clinic's main physician had taken place out behind the clinic but in full view of any open windows.

Clay moaned inwardly. "It's a damn good thing we don't handle drugs for a livin'! We'd never survive!"

"So you'll ease up about Tara bein' a rat?" Jax inquired quietly. "If he heard us talkin' to the doctor, he could've looked out and saw the deal go down. Betcha anything he's the one that ratted us to that 'concerned citizen'!"

"About the drugs, yes. After that dick move you pulled this mornin', how can we be sure she won't rat us out about other things?"

Jax glared angrily at Clay. How could he think such a thing of the woman who, under other circumstances, would've been his daughter - in - law?

"I'm bein' practical son," Clay explained. He could see the question on Jax's face. "You hurt Tara, it's only natural she'd want to hurt you, and the rest of us by extension."

"This isn't the first time we've been down this road with Tara," Jax reminded his step - father. "She didn't rat on us eleven years ago; she won't rat now."

Clay glanced out the side of his eye at his step - son. He knew what Jax said was true, but that last time, Jax hadn't pulled the dick move. Tara had chosen to leave town for her career, whatever had brought her back to Charming had brought her back to the club as well.

Jax returned his step - father's gaze with a penetrating one of his own. "Please, Clay. Look what happened the last time you acted on appearances only!"

Clay's eyebrows furrowed in momentary anger that Jax would bring up the Donna mistake yet again. He clenched his fist on the seat beside him, then took a deep breath to calm himself. "You're right. We don't need more innocent blood shed within the family for no good reason. We'll wait and see what happens."

Jax visibly relaxed. "Thanks."

'The first hint that Tara's ratted us out, her days will be numbered.' Clay promised himself. _

---

After instructing her employees on her plan to deal with the local press, Cat placed a quick call to Lumpy to invite him to the house for the Sabbath.

"Cat!" the old man cried delightedly. "How are you, honey? Vhy did you leave the hospital as early as you did?"

"The answer to your second question is a long story for another day, like after Sabbath Supper," she replied warmly.

"Trust you to go straight to the heart of the matter!" he laughed. "You're inviting me to Sabbath, eh?"

"Yes. It's been awhile since you've been over. You can then see for yourself how I'm doin'."

"I thot Teeg vas goin' outta town."

"He is, but not in the way you think," she informed him. "Different trip, leavin' tonight, in fact."

"And you still vant me to come over? Isn't Teeg afraid I'll steal you avay from him?"

"Yes, to the first question. Tig's not worried about the other. He says he trusts you."

"Vell, vhen you put it like that, how can I refuse? I'll see you on Saturday!"

"It's a date, Lumpy. And be careful, OK?"

"I vill, Cat," he promised vehemently. "Now that Teeg and the boys know vhat's going on down here, I feel better."

'I wish we all did!' she thought after ending the call. She finished her coffee, rinsed out the cup and limped to the office to work on her statement to the press.

Cat couldn't help thinking about the last time she'd worked at the computer to prepare something for a group.

Recalling how positively the opening montage for the peace rally had been received made her want to set an appropriate mood for the reporters.

'No time to put somethin' that elaborate together; and no place to really play it for maximum effect. Keepin' it simple will garner more results this time around.'

She activated the internet and accessed 'You Tube', then entered a song title into the search engine. Instantly, a page of matches sprang onto the screen. She selected the official video for that title and added it to a new, untitled play list. She added a total of 12 videos ranging from the sixties to the new millennium, then set up her broadcast quality cassette recorder to tape the songs.

'What am I thinkin'?' She slapped the palm of her good hand against her forehead. She'd just about made an error by trying to multi - task, and type up the statement while recording the music onto cassette.

'The last thing I need to have takin' away from the music is the sound of clackin' keys in the background! I need to write the statement out, then record the music!'

It occurred to her that she could still multi - task by burning the music onto a CD. However, the last time she'd tried to do too many things at once - when she was making the opening for the peace rally - she found out that the music would pause due to 'buffering'.

"No, better to do one thing at a time, and get it done right," she sighed.

She knew what she wanted to say to the reporters, and quickly typed out the statement. She reviewed it, added a few more words to spice it up, ran a spell check, then sent the document to the printer.

She grabbed her professional leather binder and placed the page inside where it wouldn't wrinkle or tear. 'Besides, it'll look more professional than takin' a folder piece of paper outta my back pocket!'

Thinking about appearances made her think about her attire. She'd dressed casually in anticipation of the tests and exams that would be done at the hospital, choosing comfort over style.

She decided to change into the outfit she'd worn for that long ago meeting with the city, when her business venture had been approved. The black outfit would accentuate her paleness and bandages from the wreck, serving as another reminder of Hale's questionable tactics.

'The music can tape while I change.' She selected a blank cassette and stuck a pencil into the take-up side of the tape. By turning the pencil, she was able to wind the leader tape to the splice where the recording tape began. She stuck the cassette into her recorder, and depressed the record/play buttons simultaneously with the pause button.

Satisfied that everything was ready, she slipped her arm out of the sling long enough to be able to use both hands - one to operate the mouse and one to start the recorder - and started both machines at the same time.

As soon as the opening bars of the first selection blared from the speakers, Cat slipped out of the office and limped to the bedroom to change.

As she carefully changed clothes, another idea for the press conference took shape in Cat's fertile imagination. 'Doin' it will depend on Alex playin' along with it. His sense of humor is skewed enough that he might actually enjoy it!'

She smiled at the idea of hurling another, not so subtle barb at Jacob Hale. 'It'll really take the wind outta his sails, and will be the perfect sound bite for the electronic media!'

She gazed at her outfit in the bathroom mirror. As anticipated, the black velvet bootcut cords, black shirt, and her black corduroy duster made the bandages and bruises stand out. She decided to use a lighter colored sling instead of the black one she favored, knowing it would deliberately call attention to the cast on her arm.

Cat limped past the office, noting that the computer was co - operating and the music was still playing without stopping. She went on out to the garage to find the supplies she needed for her idea.

She gathered four narrow boards, some nails, and a ball of twine, which she took out to the back porch. She laid her materials on the cement, then carefully knelt to put the items together.

She placed two of the boards in an 'X' shape, then hammered a nail through the center of the two pieces of wood. She repeated the step with the other two pieces of wood.

She then measured and cut out several feet of twine, until she had four pieces, two longer than the others. The two longest pieces were tied at opposite sides of each other at the top and bottom of the 'X' shape. She repeated the same process with the shorter two lengths.

All that work made it necessary for her to remove her arm from the sling. With the arm free, she could use both hands to accomplish the hammering and tying.

She held up one of the wooden crosses and gazed over her handiwork. The two lengths of twine tied to the ends balanced perfectly. She checked the shorter length of twine with the same result. The crosses were crude, but they would do the job.

The roar of a Harley pulling into the drive alerted her to Alex's return. Leaving her creations on the porch, she slipped her arm back into the sling and scurried as quickly as her aching body allowed back to the office. The last song she'd selected was coming to an end.

'Whew! Couldn't have timed that any better if I tried!' she stopped the recorder just as Alex slammed the front door behind him.

"Cat? Where you at, baby?"

"Before the at!" she called back, rummaging in the supply drawer for another cassette. All she needed to do was record that one song for the skit she'd thought up.

"Dammit! Do ya have to say that every time I ask where you are?" he complained, storming down the hall to stand menacingly in the doorway.

"Why not?"

"Whatcha doin' anyway?" He rolled his eyes, realizing he'd just left himself open to another one of her verbal zingers at his expense.

Cat took pity on him and refrained from making the obvious reply. "Just recordin' a couple of pieces for Pete to play before we make our grand entrance," she replied airily. "Get everything all set for later, love?"

He nodded, moving forward to slip an arm around her shoulder. He knew she was hiding something from him by her behavior. Anytime she didn't take advantage of an opportunity to 'zing' him made him suspicious of her.

"Just what have ya been up to while I was gone, woman?"

She gave him an innocent 'Who, me?' glance, attempting to bat the eyelashes from her uninjured eye at him.

"Don't even try, baby!" Alex laughed. "Ya know that doesn't work on me."

"Only because I can't bat my lashes like a damn flirt!" she grumbled.

"So you gonna come clean, or do I have to play dirty to get you to talk?" he growled, nuzzling her neck.

"OK! OK! I'll tell y'all!" She shrieked and squirmed out of his grasp. "Damn! Y'all don't fight fair!"

Alex merely drew her up from the chair, refusing to let her slip away from him. 'Not that she'd get very far!' He grinned wolfishly at her. "Who was it told me earlier that 'all's fair in love and war'?"

"I wasn't aware we were at war!" she sniffed.

"We aren't. Long as you behave and tell me what you've been doin' all mornin'!"

"Just gettin' ready for this press thing," she replied.

"So I notice," he replied, giving her body a full, appreciative once - over.

"Flatterer!" she snickered.

"It didn't take ya all this time to get changed," he pressed.

"Damn near! Ever try to dress one handed? It ain't easy to button yer britches or buckle yer belt, lemme tell y'all!"

"Unfortunately for me, ya managed," he moped.

"Better luck next time, love!" she quipped. She slid her arm out of the sling again in order to wrap her arms around her waist. She lay her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat.

Alex returned the embrace, burying his nose in her hair. He stroked the soft strands while inhaling the clean, natural aroma of soap and shampoo. There was also a hint of another scent, both pleasing and relaxing.

"Mmmm. What's that smell?"

"White chocolate and raspberry body mist," she murmured.

"Smells good enough to eat!"

"Maybe later, love," she replied. She slid out of his embrace and settled back into the office chair. "Can ya give me a couple of minutes to make this recordin'?"

"Sure, baby. Meet ya in the kitchen." Alex stroked her hair again before turning and exiting the room.

Cat set up the recorder as she had before, then activated it and the computer at the same time. She waited for the two selections to play, then stopped both machines and logged out of the computer. She pocketed both tapes after labeling them and limped to the kitchen to join Alex.

Alex was sitting at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of black coffee. Cat slid into the chair opposite him. "Besides settin' things up with the kids, I called Lumpy about Sabbath supper. He's lookin' forward to it."

Alex winked at her for remembering about inviting his mentor over. All the aggravation Hale's tip had caused had made him forget all about it. He was pleased that she hadn't. "You two will have a good time. Just hope it won't take too much outta ya."

"I expect to be a little stronger by then," she admitted. "If not, I'll figure out some way to manage."

"Lump'll understand if ya have to give him a rain check," Alex reminded her.

"I won't have to. One thing you can do for me is bring in the box of kosher supplies from the garage. I'd carry it myself -"

"Like Hell you will!" Alex snarled, indicating the sling holding her damaged arm. "I'll take care of it!"

She blew him a kiss, then opened up her leather portfolio, withdrawing the printed statement she'd put together. "I'm gonna read this before they start their questions."

He read through the short statement, then handed it back to her. "Looks good, baby."

She smiled and returned the paper to her portfolio. "There's one other thing, love. I'm gonna need y'all to do more than be the quiet, supportive rock."

"Oh?" Alex sat back, stretching his legs out in front of him and folding his hands behind his head. 'Knowin' her, this is gonna be good!"

She stood up and limped to the back door, opening it long enough to retrieve her creations. She closed the door and returned to the table, hiding the contraptions behind her back.

"I thought up a little skit we could play for the press that will really get under Hale's skin," she stated, slowly bringing her creations out from behind her back and laying them on the table.

"What in the Hell are those?" Alex yelped. "They look like some kinda kinky torture device!"

She was tempted to hurl a witty retort at him, but felt her idea was too important to joke around. "Not quite, but it is symbolic of Croucher and Hale's main complaint about my candidacy."

She detailed her idea, and the part he would play in it, if he was willing. "I know you'd prefer not to call unnecessary attention to yourself and the club -"

"Baby," Alex interjected with a wide grin, "I'm already in the spotlight, it can't get any worse!"

"Gee, thanks a lot!" she pouted. "All y'all had to say was 'no'. It wasn't necessary to rub my face in this FUBAR!"

Alex reached across the table to take her injured hand in his. "Shut the fuck up a minute and lissen to me, baby!"

She glared but remained silent.

"I think it's a great idea. Anything that will stick it to Hale is OK with me." he added softly, his thumb absently stroking the back of her hand in a soothing manner. "Though I wish ya hadn't done so much on your own."

"I was afraid you'd say no," she replied softly.

He glared at her in disappointment. "Dammit! Told ya I was proud of ya, didn't that mean anything?"

"It did - I mean, it does!" she protested, flustered from his expression. "I - I -"

"What the fuck did ya do, wait until I was outta the drive to make this shit?" He interjected with an angry, hurt growl. He wasn't mad at her, just upset that she'd done so much work on her own.

"No!" she exclaimed, pain and fatigue making her own temper rise. "I didn't deliberately do anything! The frackin' idea came to me while I was recordin' the music!"

Alex glared at her for a moment, then his expression softened. "I'm sorry, baby. It's just that I'm worried about ya!"

"No need to be," she retorted hotly. "I'm just dandy!" It was hard for her to switch gears from hotly defending herself to forgiving his suspicious outburst.

"Like Hell ya are!" he retorted softly. "You're pale and shakin' like a leaf!" he observed. "It tears me up to see ya like this!"

Cat struggled to keep tears of frustration from welling up in her eyes. She didn't want to fight with him. 'Why can't he understand that I'm afraid of sayin' or doin' the wrong damn thing and scarin' him off?'

Sensing that they both needed a moment to calm down, Alex stood and walked to the garage door. "Wait here and don't move."

"Where are y'all goin'?" she asked softly.

"Just to the garage to get that box like I promised ya."

"I'll be happy to help y'all," she offered.

"Would ya just once shut the fuck up and do what I tell ya?" he growled in exasperation. "I can find a fuckin' box without help!"

He stormed into the garage, slamming the door behind him. "Shit! That woman annoys the fuck outta me!" He stood gazing around the garage, looking along the shelves for the box. His attention wasn't on finding the box, but on the disagreement they'd just had.

"Dammit! How in Hell can I be mad at her for havin' the same problem with countin' on me that I have?" His hand massaged the bridge of his nose. "This marriage shit is fuckin' hard! Good thing she's damn worth it!"

It didn't take long for him to find the Kosher cooking and tableware she'd stored away. The box was a plastic storage bin, and designed to be airtight. The Kosher ware was as clean as the day she'd washed and packed it away after their last use.

Cat took Alex at his word, remaining in her chair at the table. She was filled with shock and despair as he stormed out to the garage. She felt like a heel for making him worry, and tried to think of the best way to make it up to him. She overheard his alpha male mutters and couldn't help smiling.

'Seems like we never stay mad at each other very long. I need to apologize for not waitin' for him to help make those things!" She decided to do that as soon as he returned from the garage. She was still smiling when he returned to the kitchen and set the box on the counter.

"Alex, I want to say somethin'."

He turned and leaned against the counter, grinning wickedly at her. "So do I, baby. The more I think about that little thing ya planned, the more I like it. You come up to the right spot on me for it to work!"

"Gee, it took y'all this time to come up with that?" she snorted derisively. "Not surprising' that y'all would make fun of my height deficiency! We can't all be long tall drinks of water, y'know!"

"I'm not complainin'!" Alex retorted. "I happen to like the way ya fit me!"

"There he goes again! You've got a one track mind, mister!"

"Figure it's OK long as you're the one I wanna do it with!" he leered.

"Better watch it, mister! I've got sharp joints, and ain't afraid to use 'em!"

"Yeah, but you'd be hurtin' yourself more than you'd hurt me!" he countered, picking up the two contraptions she'd made. "C'mon, let's get over to the coffeehouse before those fucktards start swarmin'."

She knew from their light banter that all was forgiven. She stood up and limped out the back door that he held open for her. She winced in the bright sunlight and whisked her ever present wrap around sunglasses over her eyes.

Alex's expression clouded over with renewed worry. He decided not to press the subject about her light sensitivity. He'd already urged her to tell the eye specialist, and she'd agreed with him.

"Just hope ya haven't gone to all this trouble for nothin'," Alex stated as they neared the back gate. "Ididn't see any news crews except for your buddy when I rode past the coffeehouse."

"Don't worry, love. They'll turn up, just like the proverbial bad penny."