Charming PawseBook IIChpt 3Smite Through Gilead

by wanderingchat

Continues Season 2 of SOA and my alternate universe. Tig thinks he's going to teach Cat to shoot a gun and gets a surprise. Zobelle strikes out against the Sons. The Sons retaliate, causing Cat to re-evaluate her relationship with the club.

DISCLAIMER

The following is a work of fiction.

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 and songwriters.

Much thanks and love go to:

My DH (aka the Dear Husband, who is thankfully very much alive!), for taking the time to offer insights. Also for having the love in his heart to allow me all my little obsessions and not feeling threatened by them. It's been a great fifteen years, and here's to many more!

My best friend (who lives in FL) for kicking my ass when needed and for love throughout these many years. And her daughter, my 'unofficial' godchild, for the same. I'm very proud of you both.

The Indy Tarts and Tartans fan group, for giving encouragement in this venture, even though there was little GB involvement. Tignation, Samcro forums, , SOA Forever and Facebook friends who also took an interest and added their encouragement. You know who you are.

Kim Sisk (Sisko44 on . Check out her SOA/Tig Story called 'Sapphires and Whiskey'. It rocks!) for the wonderful cover art, which is my avatar. I love it!

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 II

Chapter 3

Smite through Gilead

Cat slept peacefully in Alex's arms, her head pillowed on his chest. She was worn out following some enthusiastic 'nighttime manuevers' and from a week spent caring for his wounds, meeting with the unattached riders about their medical histories, and running her business.

Alex lay awake, stroking her dark brown hair that had highlights of gold and lighter browns in it. 'I really didn't mind the grey, but if she's happy with the new look, I'm not complaining,' he thought contentedly. 'She feels better and that has its' benefits!'

His smile disappeared as he recalled the meeting between her and Zobelle. Alex was concerned that Zobelle would retaliate over her open defiance. 'She needs to learn a better way to protect herself. Tai Chi and the baseball bat are OK for close situations. I don't ever want her to be that close to him again. I'm gonna have to teach her to shoot a gun.'

She knew he carried and while she didn't object to storing his personal stock in the house, she'd never shown any interest in the guns, either. 'Hell, for all I know, she could be one of those women that get squeamish around 'em!' He knew they'd need a secure, private place to practice; the warehouse was off limits. LuAnn had banned all target shooting after Gemma and Tara shot up one of the actresses' vehicles.

'Fuck it! We'll take the PT out to the country. No one will be around to report us. We'll have plenty of privacy for shooting and anything else that happens to cross our minds.'

Thinking of the Cruiser brought another sore spot to mind other than the cut on his leg. He hadn't been cleared to ride because a blood infection had developed, despite all the care and attention Cat had given it. The infection wasn't serious enough to require him to be admitted to the hospital. Instead he'd spent a couple of days in bed with chills, fever, headache, and worse of all – in his opinion - no sex.

Cat blamed the hospital that refused to treat him for the infection, and had been ready to back on the warpath on his behalf. Much to his surprise and relief, she reluctantly abandoned the idea when Gemma advised against it. "You already got revenge, Cat. Let it go and concentrate on taking care of your man."

When he was able to get out of bed and walk on his own without breaking a sweat, he'd insisted on taking the PT to the garage. He wanted to check on the repairs to his bike and learned of a delay.

"What the fuck d'ya mean, there's a part on back order! The Dyna's only a year old!" He roared at Clay in outrage.

"Backorders happen, so don't yell at me!" Clay replied, his voice stone cold. Inwardly, he was laughing his ass off. He'd ordered a halt to repairs after learning from Cat of the blood infection. She'd shared her fear with him that Tig might suffer another setback by riding too soon.

"Tig's getting as restless as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs and he's driving me nuts!" she complained. "He wants to use the rice burner, and he can barely handle the Cruiser!"

"I understand your concern, Cat," Clay replied. "I need him back but need him healthy. Just how bad is he?"

She sighed. "Mainly a bit weak. It was pretty rough for him, no thanks to that frackin' hospital! Tig is not a very patient patient!"

Clay smiled with amusement. Tig was a notorious man of action, and didn't like inactivity. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it, darlin'. Until he's medically cleared, he won't be riding his bike. What you do to keep him from yours is up to you."

"Gee, thanks!" Cat replied dryly. "I thought there was some rule about not sittin' on another man's bike!"

"There is. You're his wife. Rule doesn't apply," Clay informed her.

"Shit!" She'd have to come up with an excuse to keep him away from her bike. "How the Hell am I supposed to keep him away from the Yamaha? Bury the key in the litter box?"

Clay laughed so hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Cat. I'm not laughing at you, but the image of Tig digging around in a litter box is just too funny. I needed a good laugh, darlin'. You'll come up with something. Good luck, you're gonna need it."

"Thanks a lot!" she replied dryly, though her tone was anything but grateful.

Clay stared unwaveringly at Tig's angry visage. "Deal with it," Clay said. "There's nothing either of us can do about it," he turned and stalked to the office.

Tig glared angrily at Clay's retreating back. 'I'll bet there isn't. You've been talking to Cat!" He knew she was worried about his recovery. 'I'm not used to havin' someone give a shit about me; going to Clay behind my back isn't right! I'm gonna have to remind her where her loyalties should lie!'

He contemplated several enjoyable ways of enforcing the lesson as he drove home, and found another unpleasant surprise awaiting him. The Yamaha was gone and a Charming Police car was sitting in its' place.

His first thought was that Cat had been in an accident. He quickly limped from the Cruiser, but the squad car was empty. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The cop's not waiting out here, so she's OK. Something else has happened and they're talking in the house.' He shook his head and limped inside, relieved to see her sitting at the kitchen table with a uniformed officer.

"Some asshole took off with Blackie 2!" Cat informed him indignantly. "I came out to get the mail and found the bike was gone! Who the Hell in this town would want to steal a rice burner, for cryin' out loud!"

Alex's first reaction was a puzzled frown. His Sergeant at Arms persona hollered in suspicion at the new development. 'Seems a little too convenient coming at the same time as the delay on the Dyna's repair!' Despite his suspicion, he could see that Cat was genuinely pissed at the loss of her bike.

'She might be sneaky in order to make life better for me, but she'd sure as Hell never make a bogus report to the cops!' Once the report was complete and the cop had left, he held his upset bride in his arms, chiding himself for his paranoia.

Cat squashed a qualm of guilt as Alex comforted her. 'I told a fib, but it's just a little white lie, as Bill used to say. Alex doesn't have to know that I hired someone to make off with the bike.'

He frowned in recalling Cat's reticence about filing a claim with the insurance company. "There's a chance the bike might be recovered. If it doesn't turn up in a week, I'll call 'em. It really won't make a difference whether the claim gets made today, or in a week. I've got more important things to deal with," she explained patiently. "We've still got the PT, and the part will get in for your bike."

As he lay listening to her breathe, Alex couldn't find any reason to continue to be suspicious, and finally told his SAA persona to fuck off. 'I'm off work until the doc clears me. Why am I wasting time I can use more pleasurably in looking for conspiracies that don't exist?' The coming day was full of promise, but not if he didn't get some sleep.

Sleep was the last thing on his mind when he woke up Sunday morning, but when he saw the dark circles under Cat's closed eyes, Alex decided to let her sleep in. 'We've got the whole day ahead of us. It's not gonna kill me to let her sleep in for once.'

He crept from the bed and started the coffeepot she'd set up the night before. While the coffee brewed, he retreived the newspaper and fed the cats, then loaded his bag of personal hardware, ammo and some targets in the PT's hatchback.

He was reading the comics when she stumbled through the living room a couple of hours later. Her eyes were half closed and her attention was focused on the smell of fresh brewed coffee.

"Hey," he reached out to grab her by the hand for a good morning kiss.

"Meeehhh!" she whined, straining against his hand for the kitchen and the coffee.

"No kiss, no coffee," he growled, holding her captive.

"Meh," she grunted unhappily. She was not a morning person, even if it was closer to noon than morning.

"C'mon, Cat!" he was enjoying himself. "Just one little kiss, then you can have all the caffeine you want!"

"If that's how it's gonna be," she replied evilly, bending down to place a chaste, sisterly peck on his cheek. She smiled and turned towards the promised coffee.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Not good enough, woman!" he pulled her into his lap and extracted the kiss he wanted. When he released her, he said dismissively, "You may now have coffee." His voice sounded regal and majestic; a King granting permission for his subject to leave his magnificent presence.

"I'm comfy," she replied. She reached for the cup on the table next to the chair, helping herself to a taste of his coffee. "Ah! Much better," she sighed contentedly.

"Damn, woman! You must've needed caffeine to be willing to drink it black!"

She smiled up at him. "I don't have to have white chocolate cream all the time, love. Abstinence can make the heart grow fonder."

"Whatever!"

She snuggled under his chin. "I feel like the cats. A nice lap, a fresh cup of coffee, life is good. I could stay here like this all day."

"Don't get too comfortable," Alex replied. "I've got plans."

"Oh, really?" she responded archly. "I suppose they involve bedroom calisthenics!"

"Nah. I thought we'd take the PT out, get some fresh air, see the sun."

"Well! I'm impressed!" she replied, getting up to get a refill for him and a fresh cup for herself. "Any particular place in mind?" she added, handing over his cup before sitting cross legged on the floor in front of him. She picked up the front section and scanned the headlines.

"Just wherever the PT takes us. We haven't done that for awhile. Today seems like a good day for it, though it'd be better it we had a bike." He gave her a meaningful look.

"Yeah, too bad some fucktard took the rice burner," she replied innocently, "it's perfect bike weather!" She contined to sort through the newspaper, sipping her coffee to hide her grin. 'Nice try, stud!'

He glared at her over the comics page, but she was studiously reading the letters to the editor and ignoring him. 'OK, it is what it is,' he tossed the comics to the floor. "Ya know, you can always read the paper later. We're losin' daylight!"

She gazed up at him, saw that he was giving her 'the look', and grinned impishly. "For someone with no particular place to go in mind, you're certainly chompin' at the bit to get there!" She got up from the floor by using one of her fluid Tai Chi stretches. "Be ready in just a couple of minutes, love!"

They drove to one of her favorite isolated places where she liked to fish. It reminded her of the 'crick' at her grandparents' farm where the sun would shine through the tree limbs and leaves, warming the ground and the water while shutting the area away from the casual observer.

When Alex opened the hatchback, he surprised her by unloading the bag of guns and some targets instead of the fishing gear she expected.

"What the Hell is all this? You turnin' mountain militia on me?"

Alex glared at her. "Smartass. We're gonna find out which gun works best for you and you're gonna learn how to shoot it. If you have to protect yourself, I don't want you shooting your foot or me by mistake!"

"Don't give up your day job to become a comedian," She growled. "Do you really think Zobelle is that much of a danger?"

"I'd rather be safe than sorry," he replied, loading a revolver. He limped to a tree and attached a target to the trunk, then walked back behind the Cruiser's hatch. "C'mon over here," he gestured for her to stand in front of him.

He handed the gun to her, pleased that she didn't cringe at the idea of holding it. Her grip on the weapon was firm and sure, reminding him of the way she would often grip his dick.

'Not now!' he thought to himself, fighting back the natural physical response whenever he thought erotically about her. 'This is important. There'll be plenty of time for that later!' He reached around her, took her hands in his and showed her how to undo the safety, aim, and fire. It took all his will to concentrate on the task at hand, as the black raspberry scent of her shampoo tended to drive him wild. "Try to get the bullet as close to the center of the target as you can," he instructed.

She glared at his use of the word 'try'. "I know my eyesight isn't good, but I can hit a barn with a bazooka!"

"I'm being serious, babe. The gun will kick when you fire it, so don't let it catch you off guard. It's OK if you hit the tree instead of the target. Nobody makes a bullseye the first time. Take a deep breath and hold it, then squeeze the trigger."

She complied with his instructions. The gun roared and a hole blossomed right in the center of the yellow circle.

"How's that?" She asked, turning to him with a wide smile of delight. Despite his comment, she'd hit the bullseye on the first shot. Course, he had helped her aim and steady the gun before she fired it.

'Good thing she can't see my expression through the shades,' he thought, frowning at the hole in the bullseye and back at her. He cleared his throat and replied, "Not bad. Wanna try it on your own?"

"Sure," she replied, assuming the stance he'd shown her. She sighted and fired. Another hole appeared in the center of the target. It looked to him as if she felt at home with the handgun, he expected her to twirl the revolver on her finger or blow on the barrel. 'It could be beginner's luck,' He stared from her to the target again. "How's that feel to you?"

"It's a little too light, and unless I'm playing 'Lone Ranger', I don't like six shooters. Got anything else?"

He cast a confused glare at her, but complied by loading a semi-automatic, similar to the one he carried. "Try this. It's a little heavier," he advised, showing her how to arm it.

She hefted it in her hands, getting used to the difference in weight from the revolver. Appearing satisfied, she assumed the same stance, aimed, and fired again. A third hole appeared in the yellow circle. If a line were drawn between them, it would form a perfect triangle. She squeezed off a few more rounds, each hitting the center, making one large hole.

Tig leaned against the hatch and crossed his arms, glaring over his sunglasses at her. "When and where did you learn to shoot? Who the Hell taught you?" he growled.

"My male cousins. I spent a lot of summers on the family farm in Harrison County. It might interest you to know we do more than grow corn in Indiana!" She replied with her own version of the 'gotcha' grin. "They got to do all the fun stuff, and I tagged after them until they had to teach me stuff to get any peace! They taught me to fish, swim, fight, smoke, drink beer, fix and drive cars, climb trees, drive a tractor, cuss, hunt, shoot guns and play basketball. We also hunted deer. That's why I'm comfortable with guns."

Tig pouted at her explanation. "Dammit! Why the Hell didn't you tell me you already knew how to shoot?" His voice was petulant.

"You never asked, love. Besides, if I'd told you, we wouldn't be havin' this quiet time together, would we?"

"Maybe not here," he replied, limping to the tree to remove the target. He limped back to the car and tossed it disgustedly in the hatchback, then loaded his guns and ammo back into their bag. She handed the semi-automatic to him, but he waved her off. "Keep it. It's yours," he grumbled. "I'll get a holster for you later, unless you've already got one you haven't told me about."

"Ah, c'mon love! Don't be a spoilsport! You said we could both do with some fresh air and sunshine, so what are you complainin' about?"

He glared at her, realizing that she'd played him like a concert pianist. "Damn you! Am I ever going to know everything about you?"

"Hang around long enough and you might," she replied. "If you learned everything right away, there'd be nothing fresh to surprise you with later."

He took the gun from her and set the safety before drawing her in his arms. "I can think of plenty of fresh things to do to you," he growled, sliding his hands up under her shirt and squeezing both breasts in his hands. He felt a great deal of satisfaction as both nipples grew taunt under his questing fingers.

"Remind me to get you outdoors more often, if it's gonna have this kind of effect on you," she purred, undoing his zipper and belt. She reached down and finally applied the same sure and firm grip on him that she'd used on the gun.

The doctor gave Tig the OK to ride, though he still walked with a limp. The doctor assured him that was a temporary problem. The back ordered part came in and his bike was ready the day the doctor released him.

A few days after his bike was fixed, the Yamaha was recovered in Stockton. The paint and body was dented and scratched, the ignition damaged, and the stereo system missing. Cat arranged with Clay for the bike to be towed back to Teller Morrow. "I only trust Tig with the repair. I don't want some idiot in Stockton messin' with it," she stated.

She had another reason for having the Yamaha brought back to Charming. She hoped that if Alex did the work, it would eliminate any remaining suspicions he harbored about it's 'disappearance.'

When he saw the extent of the damage, Alex felt bad for doubting her. "I'm sorry, baby," he called in apology. "The timing of your bike's disappearance and the delay repairing mine seemed a little too convenient. I should've known better."

He made short work of the repairs to the ignition system and went over the rest of the bike to make sure it was in safe working order. He also installed a replacement stereo system because he knew how important music was to her when she rode.

Teller Morrow didn't perform body and paint work, so that repair had to be contracted out. That didn't prevent Tig from 'supervising' the workers. He arranged for a small detail to be added to either side of the gas tank: the letter 'C' in front of the symbol, with a half circle above the and cat ears and whiskers above the half circle. The entire design was intended to resemble a small cat.

"I love it, Alex!" she exclaimed when he unveiled the tank design to her. He also had the words 'Tig's Lady' painted on the back of the trunk. "Just so no one has any doubts about ownership," he'd growled possessively.

---

The next skirmish between SAMCRO and LOAN came shortly after 'Impeccable Smokes' had it's grand opening. Zobelle's store attracted an exclusive clientele thanks to the rich leather chairs and classical music. The place gave off a 'high maintenance' impression and only highly priced cigars were sold. There were no cigarette brands of any kind, nor were cigars like 'Backwoods Smokes' or 'Swisher Sweets' offered.

Once Impeccable Smokes opened, Clay decided to rattle Zobelle's chain. The Sons didn't extort protection money from local businesses. Zobelle didn't know that, and Clay was willing to make the cigar shop an exception to the rule.

Jacob Hale, a real estate developer and the Deputy Chief's brother, was no fan of the club. Every time he'd worked out a deal with a large corporation to move into town, the Sons had stopped it and caused him to lose a lot of money.

The day Clay decided to visit the shop, Zobelle and Jacob had been discussing ways to eliminate the Sons. Zobelle wasn't willing to do much for someone who wasn't affiliated with his group and gave Hale the name of LOAN's membership director.

Hale wanted Zobelle to take part in his latest land deal. Zobelle had been giving it careful consideration. His participation would depend upon Hale joining LOAN.

Clay rode out to the shop accompanied by Tig, Chibs, Jax, and Opie. Their Harleys roared down Main Street and parked in front 'Impeccable Smokes'. Clay indicated his companions should remain outside and nodded at Weston and another Aryan as he strode inside like he owned the place.

Hale beat a hasty exit as Clay walked in, his nostrils quivering in appreciation of the smell of the fine cigars. Despite the attractive aroma, Clay lay his cards on the table, making his demand of monthly protection money. To serve as first payment, he picked up three boxes of expensive cigars and a lone cigar for himself as he walked out the door, throwing a wry welcome over his shoulder at the fuming businessman.

Zobelle moved out from behind the counter, watching the Sons ride off. His aide, Weston, walked back into the store to tell him the attack on Otto was all set. The attack should serve as a warning to the Sons and humiliate Clay.

That news pleased Zobelle; he'd experienced a few setbacks where the motorcycle club was concerned. The first was when Gemma Morrow didn't report the gang rape to the police or her husband. The second came when his attempt to neutralize Trager had fallen through.

His sources had told him that Trager's 'old lady' had discovered LOAN's ties to the attempt on Trager. He hadn't forgotten that he needed to deal with the Marshall woman for deying him, but the Sons kept interfering. Ever since his ill-fated visit to 'Charming Pawse', a member of the club was always around. If it wasn't the scarred Scotsman, then it was Trager or a nomad.

There was plenty of time to deal with the coffeehouse owner, however. He was patient. 'One thing I've learned over the years is to adjust and adapt,' he thought. 'That's something Weston will never learn, for all his value. Ule has enthusiastically embraced the concept. Perhaps it's time to put him to better use.'

There would come a itme when the club wasn't around to protect the Marshall woman. Then he would strike hard and fast. Unlike the Sons, Zobelle had no qualms about harming women. He could afford to let Clay Morrow believe he'd won this round. The battle was only beginning.

Clay had been asked by Chief Unser to meet with Elliot Oswald. The county was attempting to use imminent domain to seize a valueable parcel of land. Unser knew the club had been instrumental in getting justice for Oswald's daughter a few months ago, and knew the club could help where the legal system couldn't.

Clay, Tig, and Opie went out to Oswald's sprawling property to talk with him about the land seizure. Oswald reluctantly told Clay about the letter he received from the county zoning commission. Though the letter said a highway was planned, Oswald knew that Jacob Hale was developing houses and gathering investors. Clay offered to do a little digging and requested Oswald give him the commssion letter.

While they waited for Oswald to retrieve the letter, the riders discussed the attack that had been made by the Aryan brotherhood at the prison on Otto, resulting in the loss of his good eye. There would be a vote on retaliation later in the day. Clay had no doubt about Opie and Tig's vote. Opie knew his father would be against retaliation, and felt Chibs would vote the same way.

Clay ordered Tig to talk to Juice, who he felt would be the swing vote. Clay felt it was important for the club to strike back on Otto's behalf and that Jax would do everything possible to prevent them from retaliating.

Later that afternoon, Clay met Unser at Floyd's barber shop. Floyd was a friend of the club, and had no problem with stepping out for a smoke while Clay discussed the land matter with Unser. Unser didn't recognize any names, but offered to check with the city clerk's office, taking possession of the commission letter.

Tig and Opie were present during the discussion. Opie was watching the street while Tig was looking over a box of hair dye. 'Not that I have to worry about grey hair,' he mused as he studied the package.

Floyd's was directly across the street from a popular diner. Weston and two of his cronies left the diner and crossed the street towards the parked bikes. Opie called the others' attention to the oncoming menace. Tig threw the package into Unser's lap as the trio walked outside.

Tig glared at the approaching LOAN members, his hands curling into fists. He'd been itching for a fight since Zobell's clash with his lady. The attack on Otto had only added to his need to beat something or someone. To his surprise, Clay held him back, allowing Opie to lead the charge.

Jax and Gemma saw the oncoming brawl from up the street. Jax ordered her off his bike and raced in, pulling to a stop directly between Weston and Opie. A street brawl was the last thing either side needed; he wanted to try to keep the peace. As soon as Jax dismounted, Weston pushed the Dyna over and Jax retaliated. Clay stood on the sidewalk watching as his riders literally mopped up Main Street with Weston and his cronies.

Despite the limp, Tig was able to use his leg to effectively kick one of the haters right to the curb. Opie and Jax had no problem with their own assailants. As Gemma, Clay, Unser, and other townspeople watched the fight, they heard sirens wailing in the distance.

Unser told his deputy that Weston and company attacked first, but Hale didn't care who started the fight, and had Clay taken into custody as well. In his eyes, both sides were equally guilty and needed time to cool off.

After the miscreants were booked and placed in seperate cells, Unser confronted Hale about the arrest and that he knew Hale was in Zobell's pocket. Hale retaliated by stating the whole town knew Unser had been aligned with the club for years.

Hale didn't realize that he was Unser's hand picked successor because he made the department look a little less tarnished. Unser stated that impression wouldn't last if Hale sided with Zobelle in order to get ride of the club. The chief informed his deputy of what really happened to Gemma a month earlier.

The news had the desired effect. Though Clay had asked Unser not to mention the land situation to Hale, he shared the commission letter with his deputy anyway, who realized his brother was up to no good again.

The Sons and LOAN were released with a warning. Hale let Weston and his goons leave first, while Tig and Jax sardonically whistled a patriotic tune at their backs.

Once the LOAN men departed, Hale released the Sons, but asked to speak privately with Jax and Clay. He handed a large envelope to Jax that contained the pictures Zobelle had turned over to Hall of Clay's meeting with Laroy. The envelope also contained a DVD of the crank house bombing. Hale explained that Opie was clearly visible on the DVD leaving the house before it exploded.

Hale further separated himself from Zobelle by relating the details of his brother's previous attempt to scam land that his father, a judge, had squashed. Though Jacob hadn't been charged, a friend of his, who now served as an influential member of the zoning commission had also been involved. That information would be enough to save Oswald's land.

As Tig and Opie waited outside Charming PD, Tig drew out the two-way out to call his lady. 'Word's prolly gotten out. Don't need her storming Charming PD like she did that hospital.'

"You OK?" she asked. "I was gettin' ready to come down there to bail ya out."

"I'm fine, baby. You should see the other guy!"

She moaned softly. "The last time you said that, your face looked like it went through a blender!"

He laughed. "Not this time. The charges were dropped. So you don't have to go on the warpath against the police department."

"Very funny!" she growled. "Be happy I care enough to do so!" Her tone sobered, "Gemma called about the attack on Big Otto. Said she heard it from LuAnn and that LOAN was behind it. Do y'all think it was Zobelle's doing?"

"We know it was. The guys that attacked Otto might've said it was LOAN, but LOAN is Zobelle. Why would they lie?"

"Considering they're in prison, that's one good reason for me to question their integrity. But you know how this kind of thing works better than me. Just watch your back, love."

"Likewise."

The meeting about reliation was short and difficult for Clay. He laid it on the line. The attack on Otto had been deliberately carried out as a message to the club. They had to retaliate swiftly and harshly. Doing nothing would send the wrong message.

The voting went as Clay expected, with Tig and Opie voting in favor, and Chibs and Piney against. Juice had heard from both Tig and Jax, but he sided with Clay. Jax had made no effort to hide his feelings on the matter, which left Bobby with the decisive ballot.

To Clay's surprise, Bobby voted against retaliation. He said it was the logical, safe vote. Zobelle was a different character from rival gang leaders, they needed more information on him before they acted.

For the motion to carry, there had to be a majority rule so the voting ended in a tie. Nobody felt any real satisfaction in the outcome. Clay and Bobby remained in the chapel as the others filed out in order to talk privately about Bobby's decision.

Tig was not pleased. He felt that Jax was undermining Clay at every turn and didn't like it. 'Who the Hell can I talk to? Clay knows how I feel. There's no sense talking to Jax; he knows I don't trust him. Talking to the other guys will just make things worse. The only other person I can take into confidence is Cat."

He thought back to their first night together, when she'd told him she didn't want to know everything about the club. She was content with knowing only what he chose to tell her. 'Nah,' he decided. 'The last time the club interfered with our personal life wasn't good. This isn't somethin' she needs to know. It's club business.'

Tig was sitting on his bike, smoking as he considered his situation. The other riders were hanging around the garage, some on their bikes, others sitting at picnic tables.

The garage was still open for business. Though he still wore his cut, Chibs was directing the tow truck driver to maneuver a disabled van in front of an empty bay so he could check it out. According to the work sheet, the van wouldn't start.

Chibs got into the driver's side of the van and tried the ignition. It whined but the engine didn't turn over. When he released the key, the whine continued. It was a very familiar sound to him. He leapt from the van, yelling at the others to keep clear.

He hadn't gotten far when the van exploded. The force of the blast lifted Chibs from his feet, sending him flying through the air. He landed on the pavement, the back of his head struck the ground with a hard thump. He was out like a light, blood pouring from a gash in the back of his head.

---

"What's up, love?" Cat was sitting in the back yard, enjoying some peace and quiet when the two-way buzzed.

"We need you at the hospital. Chibs is being taken there. Zobell's people rigged a car bomb and it exploded on him."

"Oh, God! How bad?" She could hear a number of voices and the wail of a retreating siren in the background.

"Dunno. Tara says he's alive, but he's out cold and was bleeding from the back of the head. We'll be there later."

"I'm on it."

"Be careful. Keep me posted, babe."

"Back at ya, love."

She ran into the garage and retrieved Chibs' medical file from the safe, locking it in the Yamaha's trunk. She raced to the hospital, arriving at the same time as the ambulance.

To her surprise, Tara hadn't come with Chibs. As the on scene doctor, Cat had expected her to be there. She didn't have time to contemplate the doctor's absence, she had to get Chibs' forms taken care of. Seeing her friend's still, pale form scared her more than the thought of the explosion.

She approached the ER desk and explained she was Chibs' representative. She filled out the paperwork, using the file as a guide. She was partly glad she wasn't having to do this for Alex and partly ashamed for entertaining the thought. She had hoped she would never have to do this work for any of the guys, certainly not within a few days of being voted into the position!

'Where the Hell is Tara?' she thought as she filled out the forms. 'It'd help to know more about what happened.'

There was nothing else to do once she turned in the forms but wait, and she wasn't good at waiting patiently. She paced from one side of the waiting area to the other, waiting for the doctor to come out to talk to her; waiting for the club and Alex to join her.

Her thoughts returned to what little Alex had told her. 'Damn, if Zobelle is behind the bombing, coming right after the attack on Otto, the guys' reaction will make my temper tantums look like a noisy dew!' She worried for their safety and for Chibs. 'He needs a friend, and I'm about the next closest friend he had besides the club,' she told herself.

She focused all her energy and concern on Chibs. The attending physician knew she was there, it was just a matter of time before he'd bring her news. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the ER doctor came out to talk to her. "He's stable, Ms. Marshall. We're listing him as critical."

"What's the bottom line, doctor?

"Mr. Telford landed hard on the back of his head, and that's caused a subdural hematoma to develop. There's considerable swelling, we want to see if it'll go down on its' own. If it does, we won't have to operate."

She nodded her understanding. "If it doesn't, you have to do what's necessary to save him. Is it OK for me to sit with him?"

"He's still unconscious, but I don't see any harm. Are you his girlfriend?"

"No. I'm Tig Trager's old lady. I'm pretty close to Fillip. He doesn't have family in the states. He's like a brother to me and I take care of the club's medical needs in situations like this."

"That's fine."

"And when the rest of the club shows up? They're his family, too."

"I'd like to keep the number of visitors to a minimum, so try to keep the visitors in the room to no more than two at a time."

Cat held out her hand to the doctor. "Thank you, doc."

She went to Chibs' room, pausing for a moment inside the door. His face was as white as the bandage wrapped around his head, making the scars on his face more pronounced. He was hooked up to monitors and IV's. An oxygen tube rested under his nose.

The sight took her back to the night Bill's life was measured by monitors until the alarm marked his passing. 'No! I'm not goin' down that path!' she scolded herself. 'This situation is different! Bill's vitals never stabilized. It was a wonder he lasted long enough to reach the hospital. Chibs is stable.'

She resolutely walked to the bedside table and wrote down the telephone number. She then stepped out of the room and down the hall a few paces in order to use the two-way. Alex's voice mail answered. "He's in critical condition, love, but he's stable. The room phone number is 555-2341. You won't be able to reach me on the two-way; I'm turning it off so it won't interfere with the monitoring equipment. Call the room if you need to reach me. I'll see you when I see you."

She wanted to say more, but he had enough on his mind. She refused to add to it with a plea for attention. He'd join her as soon as he was able. She turned off the two-way, returned to Chibs' room and pulled a chair up to the bedside. She sat down and lay her hand on his arm.

Alex's outgoing voice mail had been cryptic, but told her a lot. "We're having church to discuss what happened to Chibs. I suspect it'll go better than the last 'discussion'. We'll be there later."

She took that to mean that the club had voted about Otto, and it hadn't gone well, but the club would now be in favor of retaliation. She knew the men felt this was something they had to do. After what Zobelle pulled on Alex, Otto and now Chibs, she understood the feeling.

A couple of hours later, Alex joined her in the vigil at Chibs' bedside. He'd brought some soup, because he knew she wouldn't go to the cafeteria if it meant leaving Chibs alone. He'd also heard the underlying stress in her voice when he listened to her message. He knew how hard this was for her and why. He held her close in order to share some of his strength with her.

"Have you been to the house?"

"Yeah. The cats are fed. The house is fine. How are you?"

"I'm doin' better than he is. Damn, a frackin' car bomb! What were they tryin' to do, blow the whole lot of you to Kingdom Come?"

"They wanted to make a point. It could've been any of us. It could've taken out the whole garage. Chibs heard the damn thing arm when he tried to start the van. If he hadn't, he'd be lying in the morgue."

Cat buried her head in Alex's chest. "I wouldn't wish this on anyone, but I thank God it's not you lyin' there," she whispered.

"That makes two of us, baby." He looked her directly in the eye before adding, "you don't have to stay if it's gonna hurt you."

She shook her head. "It was only difficult when I first saw him hooked up to all this stuff. I'm OK." She looked up at him, her expression resolute, "You don't have to worry that I'll fall to pieces when you leave to take care of Zobelle."

'She knows!' He thought in surprise. 'I don't know how she figured it out, but she has. She's telling me she's OK with our decision.'

They stayed with Chibs the remainder of the night. The phone was turned off at 11pm. Most of the club had stopped in to check on Chibs, but didn't stay long out of respect for the doctor's request.

Every time a nurse entered the room, Cat woke up to inquire on his progress. His vitals remained strong, but the swelling was slow about going down. Tara eventually checked in during the very early morning. It was the first time Cat had any direct contact with Jax's old lady.

She rose quietly from the chair she shared with Alex to talk to the doctor. 'Best to let Alex sleep. He's no fan of Tara, no need to put any undue stress on Chibs with tension between these two,' she thought as she followed Tara to the hallway. "Tell me what's goin' on with him, Tara, but in layman's terms."

"He's stronger, but the swelling is still a concern. We're going to give it a few more hours. If things don't change, we'll have to go in surgically to remove the pressure on his brain."

"Ask, and ye shall receive," Cat yawned.

"You've been here since Chibs was brought in," Tara observed.

"He needs his friends. Given the circumstances, it's easier for me to be here. Besides, he's been a good friend to me."

Tara lay a comforting hand on Cat's shoulder. "He's lucky to have friends like you. Thanks for taking on the guys medical info, by the way. It'll be good for them to have another ally."

"I'm just the medical liasion, Tara. Naturally, where your old man's concerned – "

Tara lifted a hand, cutting her off. "That doesn't worry me. You met with all the riders who aren't married or have 'old ladies', but not Jax and Clay. I took the liberty of writing up Jax's medical information for you. If I'm not available, it's comforting to know his immediate medical needs will be in good hands," she handed a folder to Cat as she spoke.

Cat opened it and glanced through the papers. The file contained Clay's info as well. She gave Tara a questioning look.

"Gemma feels the same way. We're not threatened by your position with the club. We're more than happy to have you looking out for our men when we can't. Welcome to SAMCRO."

"Maybe we should consider getting an 'old ladies' support group," Cat replied jokingly.

Tara laughed softly. "A support group sounds good. though I like your idea of an 'old ladies' handbook. Gemma told me about that one. I don't know what kind of arrangement you have with Tig; it's none of my business. I can tell you this, on the job training is difficult." She lay an undestanding hand on Cat's arm before leaving to attend to other patients.

Cat watched the doctor walk away, reflecting on all she'd learned. It helped to know that she had Gemma's and Tara's support. 'Tara's right. OJT is a pain in the ass. So is this stuff of knowin' only what Alex thinks I need to know. It ain't workin'. It was fine when we were just startin' out. My view about the club needs to change, too.'

She returned to the room and stopped by Chibs' bedside for a moment. His face wasn't as pale, but he was still unconscious. 'At least his vitals are improvin'.' she thought, laying a comforting hand on the Scotsman's cheek.

She moved over to stand next to Alex. She reached down and smoothed his hair. 'Poor baby, he's been through a lot lately. I get the impression that things involving the club have been difficult, and he's kept his feelings to himself out of respect for my wishes. I've gotta start bein' more supportive of him, not a hinderance. Otherwise, it'll be a repeat of Bill.'

Alex appeared to be sleeping soundly, so it surprised her when he opened one eye and growled, "I still don't trust that gash!"

"Shhh! Go back to sleep, love," she chided softly, settling on the floor beside the chair.

He stretched, yawned, and held his hand out to her, pulling her into his arms. "No you don't. Floor's too cold for that. C'mere." He drew her next to him, sleepily nuzzling her neck. "How's he doin'?"

"A little better, but not out of the woods yet. His vitals have been stable, but the swellin' isn't goin' down. Surgery might still be necessary."

"Are you staying?" He was more awake, and more aware of her proximity. 'Damn shame we can't do anything about it, but not in front of a sleeping brother!'

"As long as necessary. Someone needs to be with him, that's what y'all elected me to do."

He nodded his understanding. "It's important he knows we're in his corner, even though we're not here. We're going to find Zobell, and when we do –"

"Y'all will do what y'all have to do," she finished for him. She lay her head on his shoulder, wishing she didn't have a bad feeling about what lay ahead. She sighed and slipped into an uneasy sleep. Alex held her and listened to her breathing, then relaxed and was soon asleep again.

Later that morning, while Chibs remained comatose, Tig awoke and used the room phone to call the coffeehouse. He updated Anna on Chibs' status, "Cat's likely to be here most of the day, so copy down the room phone number." Once he was sure she had noted it, he added, "Would you have a thermos of coffee ready for me to pick up in a bit? Cat doesn't deserve to drink that hospital swill."

"Sure thing, Mr. Trager. I'll include one of her scones and your favorite muffin."

"Thanks," he replied. He hung up the phone and gently woke Cat. "I'm gonna run an errand, baby, but I'll be back shortly."

"OK," she murmured, stretching and going right back to sleep. She was lightly snoring before he reached the door. He returned 20 minutes later, carrying a thermos of coffee, a smaller bag from the store, and a duffle bag.

"How'd you manage to carry all that on the bike?" she inquired sleepily when he woke her and she saw all the things he'd brought.

"The PT's outside. I'll take it back when I leave." He handed the duffle bag to her. "Thought you might want a change of clothes. Get going, before I get other ideas about that bathroom."

"I'm surprised you haven't already," she replied. He'd changed clothes during his absence so she decided to take full advantage of the bathroom to freshen up. Alex hadn't brought soap, so she had to use the stuff the hospital provided.

When she emerged from the bathroom, Alex had a cup of coffee ready for her, as well as one of her scones. The sight of the scone made her tear up again.

"He's going to be OK, baby. He's tough," Alex consoled her. "He'll be back in the cat room with Misty in no time."

"Don't know why I'm bein' such a leaky faucet," she replied apologetically.

"Because you love him as much as you do your step-brother. I'd be more concerned if you weren't a bit upsset."

They ate in silence, both thinking of what lay ahead for the club and choosing not to discuss it. There'd be a time and place for that later. 'She's acknowledged she understands why we aren't keeping vigil here. Something's changed her attitude. I don't know what brought it about, but I'm kinda glad of it."

"Thanks for understandin' how I feel, love. And for spendin' an uncomfortable night with me."

He shrugged off her gratitude. "You know we're gonna be looking for Zobell. I might not be able to answer the phone, but you call with any news."

"I will. You have the room phone number. You'll call when you can. Be safe, love. See ya when I see ya."

He held her face in his hands, gazing at her as if he wanted to memorize her face before he kissed her goodbye. She hoped it wasn't for the last time.

Tig returned the PT to the house then took off on his Harley in search of Zobelle. His first stop was 'Impeccable Smokes', but the store was closed. A sign on the door apologized for the inconvenience, stating the store was closed for the day.

He tried a couple of other places Zobelle and his cronies were known to frequent, including the diner across from Floyd's. No one had seen Zobelle or Weston.

He returned to Teller-Morrow, arriving at the same time as Opie. They reported to Clay that they'd had no luck so far.

Jax had retreated to the clubhouse roof to write in his journal while the other riders were inside. No one noticed a white van pull into the drive or that Edmond Hayes was nosing about 'ground zero' until the Charming police officers guarding the burned out van ran him off. The forensics team from Lodi was due anytime and the officers were there to keep the crime scene as intact as possible.

The cops' yells brought the Sons out to confront the young IRA man. He admitted he'd heard of the incident on the news and was concerned about their deal. The explosion could bring the ATF back to town, and that could hinder their operation.

Though Clay and Bobby attempted to portray the incident as an industrial accident, Edmond Hayes wasn't convinced. The Sons wouldn't back down from their story and he was forced to accept it for the moment.

'I grew up aroond the stench o' explosives, that van reeks o' it,' he thought. 'That'll bring out the ATF fur shure.' He pulled out his cellphone and called his father. "It's not good, Da. We'd best take the meetin' with that new distributor. The Sons are compromised, whether they want ta admit it or not."

"I'll set it up," his father replied.

Clay watched the van leave, his face etched in stone. He should've had the area cleaned hours ago, instead of allowing CPD to set up camp and wait for the Lodi CSI team. There might still be time to fix that. Unser agreed to send his men on a food run so Juice could power clean the bomb site.

Though neither Tara nor Cat had reported any change in Chibs' condition, Jax offered to go to the hospital to make a presence for the club. Tig glared at the VP, wondering what he was up to. 'He knows our old ladies are there. If anything changes, they'll call. He's up to something.' Clay had already given Jax the go-ahead, so Tig kept his suspicions to himself.

Opie warned that Jax wasn't completely in agreement with retalition and probably had his own agenda. Clay agreed to let Opie shadow Jax, but the VP evaded his old friend. Opie didn't that Jax had agreed the night before to work with Hale to capture Zobelle in order to protect the club.

Unser had given Weston's address to Clay, so they went out to find him, and perhaps get a lead on Zobelle. Opie caught up with the club a few yards from Weston's home. They were walking up the dirt road when they heard gunshots and picked up their pace. They were surprised to find Hale running towards the front of the house. He informed them that Jax had gone around to the back of the house.

The riders pumped bullets into the house, thinking they were protecting Jax. They couldn't hear Jax yelling that there were kids inside. Once Bobby and Clay got inside the house and saw the kids, Bobby yelled at the others to cease fire. The more daring of Weston's kids fired a gun directly into Jax's stomach, but the gun was empty.

While Hale dealt with Child Protective Services in securing Weston's kids, the club searched the house. Happy found a laptop that was password protected. The club confiscated it. Clay knew Juice and Happy would be able to access whatever secrets the computer held.

Tig received a call on the prepaid from Unser with bad news. He'd been unable to keep the Lodi CSI squad from combing through the burned out van. 'Shit! Is anything going to go right today?' he thought, checking the two-way's voice mail. 'Damn! Nothing new about Chibs!'

Nurses came in and out at regular intervals checking Chibs' vitals, but he remained unconscious. Tara had not been back in to check on him. None of the club had been in or called since Alex left.

Late in the day, a doctor came in to check on Chibs. "Good news, Ms. Marshall. The swelling has diminished considerably. Surgery is no longer a consideration."

"So why is he still unconscious?"

"That's normal with head wounds. He should wake up in the next few hours. If not, we'll run tests. For now, rest is the best thing for him. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

She shook her head. "No. I'm not about to leave him to wake up and find himself alone. I'll stay," she replied.

She did step outside the room long enough to call the two-way. "Hey, love, good news!" she spoke cheerily to the voice mail. "The swellin's gone down, so no surgery. Chibs is still out, but the doc says that's normal. Be safe. See ya when I see ya."

After another round of riding all over town looking for Zobelle and Weston, Tig stopped for gas and checked the two-way for any word about Chibs. He listened to the voice mail twice. 'Finally!' He rode back to the club to share the word.

He'd just told Clay the good news about Chibs when Juice and Happy announced they'd found something on Weston's computer. A cryptic entry for that evening, 'EZ, MCC.'

"Ethan Zobelle," Tig growled.

"Morado Community Center," Clay added.

The riders left their cuts in the clubhouse and walked outside. Some piled into the van, Tig and Opie went to their bikes. Jax was in the garage working on an engine and asked what was going on. Bobby advised him where they going and why.

Jax had already learned from Hale where Zobelle would be that evening, but had opted not to share it with the club to protect them. 'They must've gotten it from that damn laptop!'

As he waited to follow the van, Tig left a message for Cat on the two-way. "We have a lead on Zobelle and are going to check it out. I'll be late, so don't wait up, baby." He started his bike and he and Opie followed the van as Jax ran to his own bike.

The room television was on playing softly for company. The ongoing silence had gotten on Cat's nerves after Alex left. 'Tender Years', from the Eddie and the Cruisers soundtrack was playing on the cable classified channel which broadcast a local radio station she liked. She was curled up in the chair she'd shared with Alex, which she'd moved next to Chibs' bed.

She'd been sitting there since she'd called Alex with the good news. Gemma had been in for a bit, reassured that Chibs was out of danger. Cat wasn't aware that she'd fallen asleep until she felt the arm under her hand move. She was instantly alert and looked up at the Scotsman's face. Chibs eyes were open at last!

"Wh-where am I?" His voice was dry and raspy.

"You're in the hospital, darlin'. You thirsty?"

"Lady Cat?"

"That's right, darlin'. You're gonna be OK." She raised the bed up a little, then held a cup for him and placed the bendable straw to his lips so he could drink without getting water all over him. The water was wet and cold and the sweetest thing he'd tasted in some time.

"Do you remember what happened?"

He thought for a moment, then whispered "I tried ta start a disabled van, heard the sound of a bomb armin' and ran. That's all I remember."

She patted his arm. "It's enough," she replied.

"Wh-where's everboody?"

"Out looking for Zobelle. They're all as mad as a nest of angry hornets." She gave him some more water. He lay back against the pillows, sighed, and closed his eyes.

"You go ahead and rest, darlin'," Cat whispered, turning off the television. She brushed a hand against his cheek and walked out of the room, turning on the two-way. She frowned as she listened to Alex's message. She called back to let him know Chibs was awake and remembered what had happened, adding "This phone tag ain't much fun, love. I'm headin' home. Be safe. See ya when I see ya."

She went to the nurses' station to advise them that Chibs had awakened and remembered the incident so they could tell the doctor. "He took a couple of sips of water and went back to sleep. I'm goin' home for awhile. Please call me if anything happens."

Cat went home to take care of the cats and check on business matters. She turned on the stereo for company, choosing a tape of instrumental selections from Enigma and Deep Forest. The tape also had selections from several movies she liked, including the celebration music from Star Wars VI, and the ending music to the 'It's Magic' episode of a show called 'Level 9'.

She grew concerned that Alex hadn't called as she reviewed orders from the web page and worked on the coffeehouse Facebook page. It had been hours since he'd left the message for her about the lead on Zobelle.

She called Chibs before the hospital phones closed for the night. "I'm fine, darlin'," he assured her, though his voice was still weak. "I've had some soop, jell-o, and some tay that tasted like shit. No need fer ye to coom back tonight. Get yerself sum decent sleep."

"Ok, then. I'll see ya in the mornin'," she replied, not wanting to tire him with an argument. She made a mental note to bring some tea from the coffeehouse.

Cat glared at the two-way. She didn't like to call it when Alex was on club business unless it was absolutely necessary. Calling to ask if he were OK wasn't what she considered necessary. 'He'll call when he can,' she consoled herself. 'If I call and get voice mail, it'll just make me more antsy.'

She'd gotten up to stretch and feed the cats when she heard the welcome sound of a Harley pulling into the drive. She rushed to the door only to find Opie walking onto the porch. She held the door open for him to enter and could tell by his bearing that something was wrong.

"What's happened, Opie?"

"Everybody's OK, but they're in the county jail; SJCCF. They won't be home for awhile."

She gestured for him to sit and gave him a beer. He accepted both with a tired nod and began to recount how the club had gotten arrested.

"Juice was able to access a laptop we found and discovered a calendar entry about Zobelle being at the Morado Christian Center. We had a staging point not far from there. Tig and I did an outside check and it seemed to match the calendar entry. Jax told us Zobelle was having a recruitment rally for LOAN and that Hale had alerted the sheriff's department. Clay opted to go in anyway. We walked in ready to go up against a hate group only to find a bunch of families at dinner!"

Cat paced the living room as he spoke. "Didn't any of you think of looking inside before bargin' in like a bunch of cowboys?"

"The blinds were closed! We saw a couple of Aryans standing guard at the front, so it seemed right to us!"

"Tig couldn't think of crackin' the damn door open enough to make sure? What the Hell was he thinkin?"

Opie shrugged. "Guess we weren't thinking about anything except getting Zobelle."

"No shit!" Cat replied, seething that the club fell so easily into Zobelle's trap and not caring that she wasn't being respectful. "So how come you're not in jail?

Opie had already been through a similar grilling from Gemma, as he'd gone to her with the news first. 'Gemma was a little more understanding. I really don't appreciate Cat's attitude. I can't snap at her, if Tig ever found out I'd lashed out at her in their home, there'd be Hell to pay!' He settled for glaring at her, but that didn't intimidate her.

"I tried to catch Zobelle. He and his goon sped off in Zobelle's car. I chased them through town, but lost 'em when they ran a stop sign and I had to swerve to avoid an oncoming car and hit a parked one. By the time I got back to the center, the sheriff's department had all the guys in cuffs."

Cat's anger cooled in hearing of Opie's accident. "Did you get hurt?"

"No, I'm OK."

She nodded and resumed pacing. "When will bail get set?"

"Not until morning. Gemma's got a call into Rosen, they'll probably know more then. I'm going back with the flatbed to get Tig's and Jax's bikes, and move the van to a parking lot at the SJCCF. Want me to bring Tig's bike here?"

She shook her head. "He'd prefer it stay at the garage while he's gone. You need help with the bikes?"

"No, I've got it. Tig would want you to stay where you're safe tonight. He might be able to call you later."

"I'm sorry for goin' off on you, Ope. It's not all ya'll's fault for getting suckered."

Opie felt his anger drain with the apology and outspoken concern. He finished the last of the beer before replying, "Thanks. With Chibs and Prospect in the hospital and the others in jail, it's gonna be tight at the garage."

"I hear you. If you need help with oil changes and simple shit, give me a call. Thanks for comin' out and tellin' me personally, Ope."

He handed over the empty beer bottle and stood up, heading for the door. "Good night, Cat," he replied over his shoulder as he strode to his bike.

She forwarded calls from her personal cell phone to the two-way and recorded a new message accepting collect calls. Cat then grabbed her jacket and ran out the door. She had a bone to pick with Deputy Chief Hale about the club's arrest. She was on the warpath and wanted answers, so she rode straight to police headquarters.

She demanded to speak with Hale if he was still on duty. She didn't shout, but the uniformed officers could see that she was hissed off. The dispatcher called Hale, who had her brought directly to his office.

"I heard about the arrest and I'm sorry," he said once the door closed behind them.

"Sorry? The club is in jail and might not survive until bond gets posted! I hope you're proud of yourself!"

"Ms. Marshall, I know you're upset, but you--"

"It's no secret that you've been lookin' for a way to get rid of the Sons!" Cat continued angrily, cutting off Hale's explanation. "You know damn good and well that Zobelle was behind the car bomb at the garage! You just couldn't wait to tell the county boys that they could catch the guys at the Christain Center, knowing what would happen!"

"Sit down and shut up!" Hale shouted. "You don't know what really happened! I told the sheriff's department to go after Zobelle, not the club! Jax knew what I was doing because he's been working with me since last night!"

That news made Cat sit down in astonishment. 'Jax workin' with Hale? What kind of nightmare is this?'

Hale saw the effect his news had on the angry businesswoman. His voice took on a softer tone when he continued. "That's right, Ms. Marshall. Jax agreed to work with me to protect the club. Zobelle's daughter, Polly, told me her father was having a recruitment rally at the MCC. I shared it with Jax, but he chose not to share it with the club, knowing they'd go after Zobelle. They found out somehow. The original plan was for the sheriff's department to catch Zobelle, and hold him for 24 hours. I'd question him, and give the club time to cool down."

She frowned as she contemplated Hale's story. It still didn't make sense to her that Jax would keep quiet until the club was near the MCC. 'The guys were pissed. Surely they weren't so blinded by revenge that they'd put themselves in jeopardy! They're not that dumb!'

"We both know it wasn't a recruitment rally, but some kind of family religious gathering," Cat replied carefully. "How could you have taken Zobelle's brat at her word? It's obvious that she lied to you. What are y'all gonna do about it?"

"She's in protective custody now so she couldn't warn Zobelle. I might file charges."

"Might?" Cat leaped to her feet and started pacing. She wanted to smack the tar out of the lawman. "If it were me, or Gemma, or one of the guys, there'd be no 'might' about it!"

"No one told them to go off half cocked and hunt Zobelle! They made that decision themselves. I suppose you aren't aware that they shot up Weston's house today!"

Cat didn't know about that, but felt there was no need to acknowledge it. "Who the Hell is Weston?"

"Zobelle's guard dog, the guy with the bushy eyebrows. Tig and the rest of the club came after him while Jax and I were there to question him about the explosion. The guys damn near shot Weston's kids!"

"Did they know there were kids in the house before they fired?" Though the thought of kids being in the line of fire bothered her, she knew the guys wouldn't willingly fire at children.

"Not until Jax was in the house and saw them," Hale admitted. "The older Weston kid actually tried to shoot Jax."

"Jesus Christ! Anyone get hurt?"

Hale shook his head. "No, but it was close. Weston's kids are with CPS. To tell you the truth, that one kid scares me. Not even 11 years old, able to handle a gun and willing to kill. The other one seemed more – well -- more like a kid."

"Damnation!" She ran a hand through her hair, stunned to learn that someone so young was so full of hate. At least she now had a name to go with the goon who'd tried to intimidate Anna: Weston. 'That doesn't change the situation at hand,' she thought, realizing that yelling and screaming at each other wasn't going to solve anything. Hale might throw her in a cell if she didn't back off.

She took a deep breath before she spoke. "I'll admit to bein' pissed at the guys for not bein' more careful. They acted like a posse in the wild west, when a little more caution was needed. Tig's gonna hear from me on that one--if I get the chance. The bottom line is that the guys are locked up, and that's not good!"

"Look, Ms. Marshall, I know this is upsetting. The whole thing is a mess, and I'm sorry the guys got arrested, whether you believe me or not," Hale replied. "Zobelle's daughter isn't going to get off scot free, I promise you that."

"I'd hope not. In her own way, she's as bad as her father and just as dangerous. She obviously worships him and will do whatever he asks of her."

Hale opened the door for her. "Go home, try not to worry. The guys will be OK. Bail will be set and your man will be out before you know it."

Cat didn't share Hale's optimism, though she kept her thoughts to herself. She thought she knew how to handle bozos like Zobelle, but it was becoming clear to her the separationist was as connected as Alex believed him to be. That meant anything could happen and it wouldn't be good.

She rode home feeling no better than before she stormed Charming PD. She wanted her man home and safe, and she wanted Zobelle and his hoarde out of town. As she stood on the footrests, letting the wind blew in her face, an idea began to form to make life in Charming as difficult for Zobelle as possible. The idea would involve the community in a peaceful manner if she could make it work.

She lay on the bed when she returned home, cuddling with the cats and thinking over her idea. The two-way buzzed, and she immediately picked it up. Tears welled in her eyes as she heard Alex's pre-recorded voice announce "Collect from Tig."

"I accept!"

It seemed to take forever for the connection to be made, but she was eventually greeted with his voice. "Hey, baby. I'm OK, but we're involuntary guests of the county."

"I got a personal news bulletin this evenin'. Are you aware that there are little pitchers with big ears listenin'?" She hoped he'd realize she was telling him she knew the call was being monitored.

'Good girl!' he thought, catching on immediately. "I hear ya, babe. You're upset."

She inwardly sighed in relief. "I'm not real pleased, but this isn't the time to go into it," she replied. "We'll discuss that in private when we're together again."

"I'm lookin' forward to private time with ya, babe," he replied softly.

"I'm gonna get you out on bail as soon as it's set." She continued.

"Unless we can all get out, don't."

Damn! "Guess we'll see what the bail's gonna be. The bikes are on their way back to the garage. Did you get both messages?"

"Just the one. How's our boy?"

"Awake. Wish you'd gotten the second message before the county invited you to visit, love. Y'all were set up."

Alex was relieved to hear her say that. His fist closed tightly around the receiver, wishing he was holding her instead of a cold piece of plastic. "We found that out too late. I'm glad you realize it."

"I knew it as soon as I got the bulletin."

"Listen, baby, I can't stay on the line any longer. The guards are giving me the eyeball. You be careful. He's still out there. Keep safe and take care of yourself. Eat something. I know how you get."

"I will. I promise. Watch your back, love. I'll miss you."

"Same here, baby. Sleep well. Good night." The line went dead. She put the phone on the charger and lay back on the bed, gazing at the photo on her table. The cats curled up next to her as she cried herself to sleep.

---

The following day was a long and difficult one for the women of SAMCRO. Cat had to meet with the hospital accounting department about Chibs and was unable to be present when Gemma and Tara met with Rosen.

Gemma filled her in by phone later that morning. "Bail is in the seven figures for them and no court date has been set," Gemma explained. "Rosen says there's tape showing the guys walking in with guns drawn and families running for their lives. Two shots were fired."

"We know the guys were caught off guard by finding families instead of Aryans. They certainly didn't get off any shots," Cat replied. "It was likely Zobelle or one of his goons that fired."

"We know that, but proving it is a whole different matter."

"I had a little talk with Hale last night. Zobelle definitely set 'em up. His daughter told Hale the meeting at the community center was a membership rally for the League. Hale told Jax about it but for some reason, Jax didn't tell the guys until it was too late."

"Shit!" Gemma didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Hale tipped off the sheriff's office about the so-called membership rally. Our guys were sitting ducks. Then Hale had the balls to tell me he 'might' file charges on Miss Nazi. He had the bitch in protective custody so she wouldn't warn her pappy."

"Son of a bitch! He 'might' charge her?"

"Well," Cat admitted grimly, "I talked him into giving it a more due consideration. If he does let her loose without some kind of charge, she'll find out how sharp my claws are!"

"Let me know if you want somebody to hold her down for you," Gemma replied, thinking of her own antipathy for the girl.

"I hope Rosen can get a copy of that tape that isn't adulterated. Maybe someone in the crowd would be willing to testify that the guys never fired. I'd like to see it myself to see if its' been doctored."

"You're the next best person to be able to tell, with Juice locked up. I just don't see how we can get 300 grand together. Tara and I can put up our homes and the garage, but that's not gonna be enough."

"I'm ahead of you. Most of my money is invested and hard to get to. I put in an application for a $250 thousand loan this morning. Had a feelin' bail was gonna be high. Haven't heard back yet."

"Damn, Cat!" Gemma cried in astonishment. "That's one Hell of a limb you're sitting on. Seems unfair for you to carry all the other guys."

"Tig called last night. Said if they can't all get out, he wouldn't let me post his. That's what had me thinkin' about applyin' for a large sum."

"Clay's the same way. Frankly, I can't blame them. They're walking targets. I still can't believe you'd go to such lengths for the guys."

"Isn't that what families do? If it gets all the guys out safe, it's worth it. It's not like they're gonna skip town on me."

"That's true. I hope it pans out. Give Chibs my love."

"Will do. Talk to ya later."

Cat wasn't sure how much money was in the Indiana bank account. When she'd wired for the money to set up the medical account, there was close to 100 grand. 'I need to make that money work better for us, interest won't accumulate fast enough to replenish what's goin' out at this rate.'

She placed a call to her financial planner and asked him to take over the account and move it to funds that would generate more working capital. The man had been working for her for years and she trusted his financial wisdom as well as his honesty. He had come at the highest possible recommendation; he was her father's investment broker. He'd proved his worth many times over and had never told her father a thing about her financial dealings with him.

"Sure, Cat. We can make the switch within an hour, and you'll earn a better rate of return without having to touch the principal."

"I'll still need money available at a moment's notice, maybe about ten grand. With the ups and downs of the business, it'd be helpful to have a handy cash flow," she added.

"We can do that," he assured her.

"That's why I count on you."

She'd met with the hospital accounting department and signed an affidavit of financial responsibility for any treatment Chibs would need that wasn't covered by critical care the hospital had to give. Chibs had let his insurance coverage lapse due to the cost. She requested that the information be kept between her and the accounting department. There was no need for anyone else to know. She would tell Chibs so he wouldn't worry.

She decided to check things out at the coffeehouse. The loan company hadn't called yet and she was getting fidgety again. She really didn't have to check on the staff, but she felt it wise to keep them on their toes by appearing when they least expected it.

All her staff were present when she walked in. There was a lull between the lunch and after school crowd. Cat took that as a good sign to discuss her idea of turning the town against Zobelle with her employees.

She first broke the news about the arrest. "They acted like a bunch of vigilantes and got themselves arrested for disturbin' the peace," she added wryly. "The DA is takin' a hard line because they're a motorcycle club, so bail is pretty steep. That's why we won't be seeing them for awhile."

"Will we be OK, Miss Cat?" Anna inquired worriedly.

"I know what you're thinkin', Anna. You're afraid that Zobelle and his bunch could try somethin' with the guys jacked up. Watch yourselves. There's only Piney and Opie to deal with the garage until Kip and Chibs get out of the hospital. We're on our own protection wise, unless some of the nomads can step up, and I don't know how to contact them."

The staff nodded their understanding, and while Anna seemed worried, she didn't ask for time off until the shop could be fully protected again. Cat appreciated the girl's loyalty and bravery.

"That leads me to another thing. Y'all know that Ethan Zobelle is a bigot masquerading as a genteel businessman. We could try to fight on his level, but I believe that we - and by we I mean the people of Charming - are better than that."

"Just what are you thinking of doing, Miss Cat?" Pete asked.

"I'd like one of our karoke nights to be a peace rally, emphasizing songs that highlight acceptance, national pride, peace and love and all manner of groovy things. The whole idea is to make the townspeople aware that we're not going to allow Zobelle's group to flourish."

"I can check through the song library for titles that match," Pete replied.

"Miss Cat, my kids think the world of you for standing up for me against that man," Anna said. "They'll be willing to make posters to put up, and their Sunday youth group would likely help out. We can ask the businesses to put the posters in their windows."

"Could we run an ad in the paper as well?" JR asked.

"No ads. They might do a feature interest story. Also check with the radio stations, see if we can get Public Service Announcements aired." Their input lifted her spirits; she could tell they were excited by the idea.

"We'll start talking about it to the customers today, get their interest going in it," Adrian, her newest employee added. "There's no better advertisement than word of mouth, and the sooner we start, the

more interest we can generate."

"That'll really stick in that asshole's craw!" Chris Johns added, a wide smile on his face.

"I've got some ideas of my own for opening the event with a bang of sorts. One other thing, I appreciate how y'all have stepped up while Mr. Chibs has been in the hospital. You're a great bunch of employees."

"How is he?" Pete asked.

"He's awake, and out of danger. I'll give him your regards."

The cats heard her through the window and were rapping their paws against it, wanting her attention. She stepped into the cat room to give them hugs and treats and some play time before driving back to the hospital. She brought a cup of tea, a scone, and a couple of books for Chibs. Knowing him, the hospital television would drive him stir crazy in minutes.

When she got to his room, he was sitting up and flipping through the limited channels the hospital offered. She heard him mutter "Drek!" as he surfed through the channels. He didn't even like the music channel she'd listened to the day before.

"That's why Ed Murrow called TV a vast wasteland, my boy," she observed, leaning against the door frame. His color was better than the day before.

"Who?"

"Edward R. Murrow, a distinguished CBS newscaster, my idol."

"Never 'eard o' 'im," Chibs replied.

"Surely you read or heard about the 'This Is London' radio broadcasts? The man who made Senator Joe McCarthy look foolish by using the politician's own words against him?"

"All before my time, darlin', but he's right about TV. Waste bein' the ooperative wurd." He grinned and turned off the television.

She help up the tall cup of tea and the pastry bag for him to see. His eyes lit up with anticipation. "Please tell me that's 'Charming Pawse' tay! The shit they call tay tastes like warm piss with a brown crayon dipped in it!"

"Have you ever tasted warm piss?" she asked. "Never mind. I don't think I want to know!" She set the tea on his table, allowing him the pleasure of opening the lid. "It's a little cooler than you're used to," she said apologetically.

He took an appreciative sniff, then sipped some of the liquid. "It tastes like Hevin, Lady Cat." He opened the bag and his smile widened. "Ach! A scone! Yer an angel! All that's missin' is wee Miss Misty."

"Maybe next time, brother. Don't want to overwhelm you."

He munched on his scone and swallowed some more tea. "The nurses said yer were here from the minnit I was brought in."

"It's true. Tig was here most of the night, too."

"Where are the guys? No one's called or been by since you left last night."

Cat's face momentarily clouded over. She wondered if he were strong enough to deal with the bad news.

As if reading her mind, he said "I'm not that bad off, milady. What's happened?"

She made a quick decision. He'd hear about it one way or the other. Best he hear it from her. "The guys are at the SJCCF. They were arrested last night after being set up by Zobelle at the Morado Christain Center. Bail's in the six figures for all six of 'em."

"Six?" Chibs looked incredulous. "Tig? Clay?"

"Bobby, Juice, Happy, and Jax. Opie didn't get arrested because he was chasin' Zobelle. The fucktard got away."

"Better tell me the whole story," Chibs replied.

She told him everything she'd learned from Tig, Hale, Opie, and Gemma. "It's a frackin' mess, brother."

"It is at that, milady. When will you hear about the bail money?"

"I hoped to have heard somethin' by now. Gemma and Tara can handle their men, leaving me with Tig and the others. Clay and Tig won't bail out if the other guys are left behind. I understand why."

"But I can tell you'd rather he took bond," Chibs squeezed her hand in sympathy. "We seem to be puttin' an awful lot on ye lately."

"Y'all are my friends. By the way, I hope you'll be up and out of here for the next karoke night. It's guaranteed to turn the whole town against Zobelle."

"Whut are ye plannin' gurl?" Chibs eyed her warily.

She outlined the peace and patriotism theme of the venue and her staff's eager support of the idea.

"You really think that moosic is gonna make people anti-Zobelle?"

"Not just music. Zobelle's own words are going to be his undoing. I'm going to borrow a note from my idol's book."

"That I gotta see. So will the guys."

"I hope all y'all will be able to be there. By the way, don't worry about your treatment once your status changes. The medical account has you covered. You're stayin' right here until you're cleared to leave."

"Thanks, Lady Cat."

"You have my cell number. Call me if you need anything. You rest, and I'll check in on you later." She warmly grasped his hand, only to be drawn to him in a brotherly hug.

"You be careful, Lady Cat. Zobelle and his creeps are still out there. You could be in danger."

"Don't worry, darlin'. Tig's made sure I know how to protect myself. I'll see ya later."

She finally received the call from the loan company, but it was bad news. They would only allow her enough to get Tig and one other rider out of jail. "Look, I'm good for it! The money's just tied up in my investments!"

"We're sorry, Ms. Marshall. If your business were established for more than a few months, we'd feel more comfortable. This is a sizable bond, and frankly, we're not all that sure that allowing you a loan to bond out two of those outlaws is a good idea."

"I see, you're not worried about my ability to pay the loan, just that it's for a motorcycle club's bail. It's nice to know what y'all think. I'll talk with my associates and let y'all know." she replied angrily. 'Fuckers! Don't hold your breath waiting for me to call all y'all back!' She called Gemma with the bad news. "I'm sorry, to get your hopes up for nothin'," she added.

"Don't beat yourself up, Cat. You did your best. I have an idea myself. I'll keep you posted."

---

Clay and the Sons had been busy that morning. Jax went around the exercise yard to get the lay of the land. The Aryan brotherhood had put out the word that the club was to be left unprotected.

Clay called Rosen and had him deliver a message to Gemma to get to Laroy. Laroy had a cousin staying in the SJCCF, they might be helpful to the club despite the Aryan's declaration.

Later that morning, he got word that Laroy's cousin Russell wanted to meet. He and Tig walked over to Russell's area where Tig watched Clay's back as he spoke with Russell. An agreement was struck for two rats to be dealt with. One was inside, a snitch named Dion. The other was on the outside. A cellphone was provided to Clay to set up the rat trap on the outside.

As for the jail rat, Russell informed Clay that Dion liked Latino meat. Juice was elected to 'take one for the club' by meeting Dion for a 'date' in the infirmary.

When Juice asked how he'd get to the infirmary, Tig provided the answer by hitting Juice so hard a rib cracked. Tig had the grace to apologize.

The rat trap on the inside worked perfectly, and Juice didn't have to take it up the backside in the end. If Opie could come through with the trap for the transvestite rat/drug pusher, the Club would be protected.

When Juice returned to the exercise yard, however, the point was driven home that the guys had to keep their eyes open at all times. Juice was attacked and shanked in the back. As the Sons closed ranks around their fallen friend, yelling for the guards, they wondered who would be next to be attacked.

---

Cat returned to the store with a heavy heart. It just wasn't looking good for the guys to get out any time soon. If Rosen couldn't get his hands on that tape, heaven only knew what might happen to the riders. 'It wouldn't surprise me if Zobelle had one of his cronies alter the tape to use against the guys. I don't put anything against that bastard.'

She worked in the back office, going through orders and inventory, and decided to google the Christain Center. 'Maybe I'll just do a little investigating tonight,' she thought. She copied the directions and the address, hoping the locals would have completed their own investigation by the time she got there.

Her heart leap when the two-way vibrated in her pocket. She opened it, listened and responded, "Yes, I accept!"

"I'm OK, baby. Juice got shanked." Alex told her.

"How bad?"

"He was conscious when the guards took him out, but he was bleeding like a stuck pig."

She closed her eyes in silent gratitude. "Where are they takin' him?"

"Local hospital jail ward. St. Thomas isn't set up for inmates," he replied grimly.

"I'll get Juice's file and get over there."

"You know that Juice doesn't have insurance."

"That's what the account's for, love. I just hope it won't be needed again for a long time after this."

"That makes two of us," he replied. "You holding up OK?"

"I've been better, but can't do anything except ride the storm out, as the song goes. How do I get word to y'all about Juice?" She wrote down the telephone number Alex gave her.

"That number is to a friend of the club who will be expecting your call," he explained. "You'd better get going, baby. Be careful out there."

"Don't worry, I don't go anywhere these days without takin' my iron," she replied, using code to let him know she had the gun on her.

"Good to hear. I don't want you taking unnecessary chances," he said, acknowledging that he understood what she meant.

"Be safe, and I'll see you in my dreams tonight."

"Same back atcha, baby."

She retrieved Juice's file from the safe and grabbed her digital camera. Since she was going to be in the same area, she might as well save time and effort and handle both jobs on the same trip.

Juice was already in treatment when she reached the hospital. She filled out the paperwork and signed the financial responsibility forms, though she made it clear that she would only pay after he was released on bond. Until that time, his care was the county's responsibility. He was hurt on their watch, she intended to hold them accountable.

The attending physician came out to speak with her about Juice. "The wound was deep, but missed vital organs. He lost a lot of blood so we're giving him a transfusion. He also has a cracked rib. Not sure how that happened but it's definitely not related to the wound and he's not telling how it happened. Unless he bonds out, he'll probably be returned to the jail tomorrow morning."

Cat frowned at that news. Juice would be more of a target in his weakened condition. Surely there had to be a way around that! "Let me ask a theoretical question, doc. If I give a pint of blood in Juan Carlos' name, will that get him a little extra time to recuperate?"

The doctor considered her offer. He wasn't willing to turn his patient back over to the wolves at the jail. "Well, our blood bank is kind of low right now. Theoretically speaking, one pint will help, but a few more pints would make a difference."

"Hmmm. Let's say I can get 11 people to come out and give a pint. Would that be enough to give him a little more recovery time?"

"If there's 12 pints in his name in the blood bank, then we could manage to find an elevated temperature that would keep him with us another day or two." The doctor's eyes twinkled at her. He was willing to bend the rules if it helped the hospital and his patient.

They shook hands on the deal and the doctor walked her to Juice's room. "He's awake if you want to see him. The guard will only allow you five minutes," the doctor added.

"Even though I'm not immediate family?"

"Unless you're carrying a lock pick, he won't be going anywhere. You're his rep. But the guard will have to search you." The doctor gave her a phone number she could call to check on Juice's progress. They shook hands again as he left her with the guard.

The guard did pat her down, but he was decent about it and didn't use the occasion to cop a cheap feel. "Five minutes, ma'am," he reminded her as he held the door open for her.

"Thank you, sir."

She stepped into Juice's room, half expecting to see a repeat of Chibs. Juice was awake, an IV hooked up to his arm. He was trying to find something of interest on the television.

"I hear y'all had a busy mornin'," she said. "Aren't you takin' the phrase 'takin' one for the club' a little too literal?"

Juice's face lit up with a big smile. "Hey, Cat! Good to see a friendly face!" He sobered quickly. "I won't lie to you. It's rough in there. Tig and the others are OK, though."

She smiled wryly. "I suppose Tig told you to say that."

Juice shook his head. "There wasn't much time. Clay's working his ass off to get us protection, but it's rough going. The Aryans are really putting the heat on."

"There's plenty of haters in lock up," she mused. "All y'all are walkin' targets. Gettin' protection in stir is not going to be easy, and from the looks of you, Clay's meetin' with a few roadblocks."

Juice grimaced. He knew Cat wasn't kidding around with him. "The cracked rib is thanks to your old man. It helped us start towards having someone to watch our backs. The less you know about that, the better. He apologized for it, if that helps."

She smiled faintly. It did, and he was right, she didn't want to know the reason behind the cracked rib.

"How's Chibs?"

"Weak, but improvin'. He hates hospital tea. Don't worry about your care. As long as you're here, it's covered by the county. If you bond out, the account takes over and will move you back to Charming."

"Thanks, Cat."

"All part of the friendly service. I just hope all ya'll are done testin' me! I'm exhausted!"

The guard tapped on the window. "That's for me. Gotta go take care of some business. I'll get word to Clay that you're OK." She laid a friendly hand on his handcuffed one. "Chin up, lad. I know y'all were set up and I know who did it. We'll prove it."

"Watch yourself, Cat. Tig will skin me alive if anything happened to you while you're here. You're on your own right now, y'know."

She nodded, her throat constricting a bit at the reminder. "I know. Tig's taught me well." She turned to the door then turned back again with a devilish smile. "No orderin' up any pay per view porn, y'hear? That would go on my dime and I ain't payin' for it!"

Juice laughed at the admonishment as she turned and walked out the door. She said a genuine "Thank you" to the guard and headed to the blood bank.

Before she checked in, she dialed the number Alex had given her. When the guard, a friend of the club answered, she said "My name is Cat Marshall, calling with a message for Clay Morrow."

"Yes, ma'am. I've been expecting your call."

"Please let him know that Juice is OK. The wound is deep but missed vital organs. I'm workin' on makin' it possible for him to stay a couple of days for observation."

"Ms. Marshall, you be careful about that. There are rules. If he's stable, he has to come back."

"I know, sir. I'm not breakin' the rules. Just let Clay know there's nothin' to worry about where Juice's safety is concerned. They've got enough to worry about as it is."

The guard wasn't convinced that Cat was doing the right thing, but was in no position to argue with her. "OK, ma'am, I'll deliver the message."

"Thank you, sir."

She then called Caracara Studios and asked to speak with LuAnn. "What's up, Cat?" LuAnn asked when she got on the line. The producer sounded a little harried, but that was normal when a production was being filmed.

"Wanted to know if some of your staff might have time to come out to the county hospital and give blood in Juice's name. He got shanked at SJCFF. He's OK, but if I can get 11 pints donated, the doctor has agreed to keep him for observation for a couple of extra days."

"Aw, geeze, Cat! I don't know. We're really busy up here," LuAnn whined.

Cat rolled her eyes. LuAnn might be Gemma's best friend, but sometimes she could be a bit selfish about doing something that didn't directly benefit her. "I realize that, but this is for a good cause. I'm ready to donate one now, so that's only 11 pints! Surely out of all your people, there's 11 with enough time to give a pint!"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"I'll be donating another at St. Thomas in Chibs' name," she added, hoping it would poke the woman's conscience.

"Ok, I get your point! I'll talk to my production people. It better not take too long!"

"That's all I ask, LuAnn. By the way, Otto's been in

my thoughts since the incident." She shut off the phone before LuAnn could respond.

After giving the pint, Cat rode to the MCC. There were no cops and no crime scene tape. Apparently the police had completed their investigation.

She walked around the building to make sure no cops were posted to guard the building, then tried a side door and found it unlocked. She opened the door a bit and listened. The room was silent. She darted inside and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.

The tables and chairs were stacked and put away. The podium was still standing at the front of the room. 'Most likely, it's permanently fixed to the floor.' She walked around the perimeter, trying to imagine it as the guys would've seen it. She noticed the security cameras and remembered not to face them, just in case they were running.

She moved towards the podium and studied it from all angles. There were two holes in the front of it. Closer inspection proved the bullets had been fired from behind the podium. She took several pictures of the holes from different angles, making sure that they showed the fragments of wood were pointing out.

She made another round of the room, looking for any more clues, but had no luck. She returned to her bike, secured the camera and rode back to St. Thomas. She checked in on Chibs, who was awake.

"What's wrong, Lady Cat?" Chibs asked, noting the shadows in her eyes.

"Juice was attacked in the jail yard," she replied softly, knowing there was no use trying to hide the news from him. "He's OK. He's at the county hospital, and he's gonna be all right, so don't worry, Chibs."

He reached out to her and she put her hand in his, allowing him to draw her to his chest. "I'm not Tig, but you need sum cumfert, Lady Cat. I don't think Tig'll mind me givin' yer a hug right now."

She was tired, damn tired. First the bomb, then the arrest, now Juice. What next? She took a deep breath, relaxing a bit in the avuncular embrace of her friend.

"I'm OK, Chibs," she said as she straightened up. "Thank you for carin'. Get some rest and no worryin' about me or the guys. The sooner you're out of here, the happier we'll all be."

"Yer needin' ta take sum of yer own advice, wooman," he replied. "Go hoom, git sum sleep. I'll call ya later."

"OK," she smiled at him and left the room, but she wasn't going home right away. \

There were several people from Caracara at the blood bank when she arrived. One of the cameramen told her that eleven of LuAnn's employees, mainly set designers and support staff, had gone to the other hospital to take care of the pints for Juice.

"Thank God!" she sighed, thanking the cameraman for the good news. 'Juice will be safe. One less thing to worry about!' She had already given her second pint of the day when Gemma stormed in, too late to prevent her from making the second donation.

Cat stood up from the donation couch, and promptly found herself flat on the floor, looking up at the ceiling.

"Shit!" Gemma was next to her in a flash. LuAnn had called her about the impromptu blood drive and of Cat's intention to give a second pint. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Sure, just a little loopy legged is all. I didn't feel like eating today."

"Smooth move, giving two pints on an empty pouch!" Gemma replied. "Can you stand?"

"Hell yes! The only thing I hurt was my dignity!" She stood up on her own and brushed the dust off her back end.

"Sit down! What the Hell were you thinking? Tig will have a fit when he finds out!"

Cat treated Gemma to 'the look'. "He's not gonna find out. Not from me, and not from you, unless you rat. No harm, no foul."

"No harm except to you!" Gemma complained.

"I'll be fine, Gemma. I made a promise, and I kept it. That's all there is to it."

One of the blood bank techs came over to her and tried to force Cat to take some orange juice, which she refused. The tech insisted on having her checked for injury and to sign an incident report. Eventually, Cat was able to get away from the blood bank. All the fuss and furor reminded her of the old saying 'no good deed goes unpunished.'

She peeked in on Chibs and saw he was asleep. The 'vast wasteland' was turned off. She decided to let him sleep and headed home to download her pictures. Though she thought Chibs was resting comfortably, she didn't realize that he was having a dream about her, Gemma, the guys and the IRA gun deal.

---

It was the morning after the club had been arrested, Cat entered his room to find that he was tossing and turning. He kept muttering about the 'MC pony express' and Opie not being able to do it alone, alternating with moans of 'We're fooked."

She retrieved a washcloth from the bathroom, wet it with cold water, and gently wiped the sweat from his face. She carefully touched his bandages, but they were dry. Her ministrations woke him.

"Lady Cat?" He blinked the sleep from his eyes, trying to focus.

"Right here, darlin'," she spoke soothingly to him as any parent might console a child waking from a vivid nightmare.

The cool cloth felt good. The dream had been so real! He and Opie had been trying to carry all the bedrolls of guns as police cars were chasing them down the highway.

"It was just a bad dream, brother," she added in the same soothing manner.

"No, Lady Cat, it's a real fook up is what it is," he replied.

There was definitely something bothering Chibs, and it wasn't just that the club was in jail. It was also something that he wasn't going to give up easily, even to her. She set his morning scone and tea in front of him, allowing him to eat in peace. Once he'd finished, she asked him what was troubling him.

"I dunna know that I shud tell ye any more than ye've overheard, Lady Cat. It doesn't exactly fall in the 'she needs ta know' ye have with Tig."

"Tig isn't here to make that call, darlin'. It's major shit to bother you in your sleep. If you don't talk, it's gonna affect your recovery, so you might as well tell me 'cause I aint' leavin' till you do."

"Tig'll skin me alive!"

"And you think I won't do worse?" she countered.

"Damn! Ye're a tough one, Lady Cat. Sheath those claws of yers then, and I'll tell ye."

Chibs was worried about the next scheduled delivery for the IRA, which was due that week. With the club in jail, a charity run was out of the question. To add to his concern, he and Prospect were in the hospital, leaving only Opie and Piney to make the delivery. Chibs just didn't see how it was possible.

"And if the club loses this contract, it's gonna hurt y'all right in the wallet," Cat concluded.

Chibs nodded in miserable agreement. He felt like he'd let a wildcat out of the bag, but he felt a vague sense of relief as well.

"Well, brother, you don't have to worry your bandaged head about this any more. It's gonna get done. I'll see to it."

"Cat --" Chibs voice was full of dread. Tig would really kill him now!

"Chibs, dear, it's ok. I've stayed in the dark about a lot of what all y'all do by choice, but I'm not blind to it and not ignorant. I'm not a starry-eyed innocent. There's some bad seeds in my woodpile, and it's time to resurrect my rum running past."

"Guns aren't liquor, gurl!"

"I know that! But it's the same theory, running contraband for a reason. You rest easy, and I'll call ya later. Gotta go find the appropriate wheels."

"Rest easy, she says! Ha!"

She kissed his cheek. "Don't worry. It's gonna work out fine."

She rode out to the garage to speak with Piney and Opie about finding a set of proper wheels to make the delivery. She told both Winstons she needed to speak with them in private and sat at one of the picnic tables near the office, trying not to look at the row of bikes parked and waiting for their riders, especially Alex's.

"What up, Lady Cat?" Piney asked.

"I'm on a mission," she replied, as Opie walked up behind his dad. "I need to find a 1969 or '70 Plymouth Satellite or Dodge Charger with a hemi V8 engine and a sturdy frame and I need it now. Auto tranny would be preferred, but I'll take a stick if that's all that's available. I'll also need to put a false bottom in the trunk."

"That's pretty specific, what are you going to use it for?" Opie inquired.

"Gentlemen, you are looking at the person who is going to fulfill the deliveries with the IRA until the guys get out of jail."

The two men exchanged wary glances. This was so wrong on so many levels! How did she find out, anyway? Tig would have a fit if he found out!

Cat glared at them. "I know all about the guns. Chibs had a bad dream about it, and I happened to be there. He's right, you two can't handle this alone. I ran booze in my college days and was damn good at it. The 'Rum Runner' is comin' out of retirement."

They stared at her disbelief. Did this chick have any idea what she was getting herself into? This wasn't some kind of college lark, but serious business. She wasn't exactly laughing about it, though. So maybe she did know.

Cat stood up and started pacing, trying to keep her temper under control. "Be realistic you two! Chibs and Prospect are on the injured reserve, the guys are in jail for Gawd only knows how long! That just leaves the two of you. You can't carry more than one extra bedroll apiece without raising attention, especially with the ATF sniffing around! No one is gonna suspect a female with a trunk full of shopping bags to be ferryin' guns."

"She's got a point, guys," Gemma spoke up. She'd overheard everything Cat had said, and agreed wholeheartedly. "It's far enough out of left field to work and if there's two women in the car the shopping cover will work even better. Right, Cat?"

"Damn straight!"

"I think I've found your car," Gemma added. "We can check it out on line, and if you like the looks, we can test drive it. If it'll work, we'll have the guys here check it out and put in the false bottom."

"You've been lookin' for a car for me?"

"As soon as I heard you mention the specifics and the upcoming delivery. We're going to make this happen for the club."

Opie finally found his voice. "Cat, Gemma, you just can't walk into the Hayes place and take over the delivery. He'll never agree to it."

"Then one of you will have to tell Hayes that there is a little change in the delivery service, won't you?" Gemma replied sweetly. "If you need us, we'll be in the office."

As they walked to the office, leaving the astonished Winstons in their wake, Cat thanked Gemma for stepping in. "I was afraid they'd laugh me off the lot."

"Oh, they wouldn't have laughed at you, but they would've turned you down. They don't dare say 'no' to me. Rank does have it's privileges, you know."

Gemma pulled up the internet sales ads in the area and Cat saw two immediate possibilities. One stood out from the other as it was exactly like the car she'd driven in college. It had the engine, frame, and drive train she wanted, and had less than 75,000 miles on it. The owner wanted less than a grand.

"There he is," Cat was literally purring. "That's the one I want." She called the seller and arranged to come out within the hour to see the car.

"Wanna go along?" She asked Gemma.

"Naturally."

They rode out in the Escalade to the owner's home. The Plymouth Satellite, though not a GT, was sitting in the garage. Cat cranked the engine and it roared to life, idling in a rumble like a resting panther. The interior was in good shape, as was the paint. It had good tires on it, and the mileage checked out. She raised the hood and was rewarded with the sight of a well-kept power plant.

"This vehicle was my husband's, and you can tell he took care of it. I don't drive it, it's too powerful for me. He can't drive anymore. I'll let it go for $500."

"Sold!" Cat handed over the cash, the owner signed the pink slip, and Cat took possession of the keys and the car. While Gemma returned to the garage, Cat stopped off at the local bureau of motor vehicles to transfer the title and registration.

She pulled into Teller Morrow a couple of hours later and the mechanics give it a once over, making sure everything was in top shape. Then Cat paid for a full detailing so the car, which was the same midnight blue as her original Rum Runner, would look as good as he ran.

The false bottom was installed in the trunk, along with a CD/tape player and radio. Cat figured if she was going to be traveling, she wanted to have the proper tunes to keep her occupied. By the end of the next day, the Rum Runner 2 was ready to roll.

With the majority of the club locked up, Opie had additional duties to fulfill to get protection for the guys. Piney was left to try to talk some sense into the women, and was not finding it easy.

"Look, Opie can call the Hayes, and make the introductions, but that doesn't guarantee they'll accept you, regardless of your affliaiton with the club," he explained. "Clay said we need to tell Hayes and the charters to wait until they get out."

"Clay didn't want to leave the others behind by being bailed because we couldn't get enough money to get Bobby, Juice and Happy out," Gemma retorted.

"Besides, we're in a position to make this work, and I've never known a man who could turn down a good thing when he sees it. The Hayes men will see the sense in it," Cat added. "All y'all have to do is grease the skids for us."

"What are you going to do if they don't go along with the idea?" Piney asked.

"They will, 'cause I won't take 'no' for an answer," Cat replied grimly.

"I've got a really bad feeling about this," Piney moaned. "What do I tell Clay?"

"Tell him the 'Rum Runner' has come out of retirement and the delivery will go on as scheduled. If he asks what that means, have him ask Tig. If he doesn't ask, don't volunteer anything. When Opie gets back, have him call Hayes and set it up, then call me on the cell to confirm it."

Cat went home to change into her favorite 'kick ass' gear, the same outfit she wore to the hospital that refused to treat Alex. She had the gun Trager had given her in the holster under her coat. She also picked up some tapes and CDs and fed the cats before leaving.

Her cellphone sounded off with Gerard Butler's rendition of ''Past the Point of No Return'. She looked at the caller ID, relieved to see it was Opie's phone, and not the payphone at the SJCFF.

"It's on, Cat. Hayes is expecting you. I don't like this, though. You shouldn't go there without backup."

"I'll be fine, Ope. If you feel we need backup, contact the nomads. Tell Gemma I'm on the way."

Gemma was waiting for her when she reached the garage, climbed into the shotgun seat and buckled up. Cat started the engine, loving the feel of the power of the hemi. "See ya later, Piney!" She gunned the engine as they pulled out of the driveway.

"I'm getting too old for this shit," Piney moaned.

"Hey, Cat, I hope you're not getting any ideas of us ending up like Thelma and Louise," Gemma laughed as they cruised through the center of town.

"Won't happen," Cat replied. "No cliffs to drive off of and the feds ain't after us. I think we're safe. You're packin' I take it."

"Always. How about you?"

"Yup. Under my coat."

"Tig give you the gun?"

Cat nodded. "The weekend after Zobelle visited the shop. Tig and I drove out into the country. He thought he was going to teach me to shoot. He got educated instead." A sad smile crossed her face at the memory.

"You already knew how to shoot, didn't you?"

"When you spend your formative summers at your grandparents' farm and your best friends are your male cousins, you learn a few things. Shootin' a gun was one of them."

Gemma gave her an appraising look. "How did Tig take the news?"

"He was surprised. 'Course we did get to have a little uninterrupted time together, so it wasn't wasted."

"You've been full of surprises lately, aren't you?"

"Always keep 'em guessin' my dear. Otherwise, they start to take you for granted," Cat replied with an evil grin. "I plan to see to it that Tig never gets bored with me."

"I doubt that'll ever happen, Cat."

They reached the Hayes's military surplus store in Galt to find Opie's bike parked out front. He signaled Cat to pull around to the back. The women got out and met with the rider.

"I thought you weren't coming," Gemma queried the rider.

"I thought it would be better to be present than to leave you two without backup of some kind. Hayes doesn't know the nomads. At least he'll recognize me."

The trio walked around to the front of the store. Edmond Hayes, the younger of the two men, greeted Opie with a snarky "Yer a few riders short!"

"We ran into a little manpower problem," Opie replied. "But we got a handle on it."

"Ye got a mouse in yer pocket, Opie? What's with this 'we' stuff. I just see one motorcycle, one rider, and two broads."

"Two women," Cat interjected. "We're the delivery service today."

"What's this, the SAMCRO ladies auxiliary?" The young man laughed.

Gemma and Cat exchanged glances. "Daughters of Anarchy?"

"It has a ring to it, but I'm not sure how the guys would like it," Cat replied. She removed her fedora and placed it on a display case, then walked forward until she was nose to chest with Edmond.

"If y'all have had your laugh, it's time to get down to business, lkiddo. There's a charter of riders a few hours from here, waitin' on delivery. My companion and I are makin' that delivery. Out back is a sweet 1970 Plymouth Satellite with a V8 hemi engine and a trunk with a false bottom that will hold those bedrolls quite nicely."

Edmond Hayes started to speak out against the idea, but Cat stopped him. "These are my credentials: I put myself through college runnin' liquor between Illinois and Indiana and was never caught. Pulled over a few times, but no one ever discovered the haul. I can handle your guns, Junior."

"Think of it this way," Gemma added. "No one's going to be looking for two women headed North to shop. If they do stop us, they're not expecting two women to be running guns. We have enough loaded shopping bags in the back to make it look real."

"Way we see it," Cat continued, not allowing the young man a chance to speak, "this is a win-win all around. Your guns get moved on time, the deal with SAMCRO remains intact, everybody's happy. The game remains the same, only some of the players have changed."

Edmond looked over at Opie. 'You lettin these broads do yer talking, Ope?"

Cat grabbed the young man's face with one hand, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of his jaw. "Opie isn't the boss, he's the muscle. You talk to us, and you talk to us with some respect. You got dat?" She used her best Victor Newman imitation in those last three words.

Gemma stepped up behind Cat in support. "Now, do you want to do business, or do you want her to unsheathe her claws? I'll warn you, they're sharp."

Hayes glanced at Opie for help, the rider merely spread his hands in front of him. "It's their show, man. I'm just here to keep the peace."

The beleaguered IRA man looked from Opie to Cat to Gemma. Both women were glaring at him, and Cat was subtly increasing the pressure on his jaw. These women definitely meant business.

"Ok, we have a deal," he squawked.

Cat released her grip on his jaw and patted his cheek. "Good idea. Now let's start packin' – no pun intended." She retrieved her hat from the display case and followed the young man into the back room.

The bedrolls were stuffed and stored in the bottom of the trunk in a short period of time. Hayes was impressed by the car, and by the false bottom. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he'd have never known it was there.

"Before you lassies go, I have to know, who belongs to which rider?"

"Why is that important to you?" Gemma asked.

"Just to satisfy my curiosity," he replied.

"You know what they say about curiosity, junior," Cat replied. "Besides, you never put all your wares on display at once. Always leave somethin' in storage to keep the customers comin' back." She closed the trunk with a satisfying thump, placed her fedora on her head and climbed into the driver's seat.

"If the gents are indisposed for the next run, we'll be seeing ya again, Mr. Hayes." She started the engine and Opie walked over to Gemma's side of the car.

"You two be careful,"

"We'll be fine, right Thelma?"

Cat grinned and threw the car into gear. "Right, Louise!" She spun just a little gravel as she pulled out the drive. The last thing the men heard was their laughter as the car sped away.

The car's tape player had the soundtrack to Eddie and the Cruisersin it. Cat was singing along to 'On the Dark Side'. She looked like she was enjoying herself, and that worried Gemma. When the song ended, Gemma reached out to turn down the volume. She wanted to get things out in the open. This wasn't normal behavior for Tig's lady. "What's going on with you, Cat?"

She glanced at Gemma before eyeing the road again. "If you think I'm channelin' Tig, you can relax."

"You act like you're enjoying this."

"Like Hell! I don't enjoy one thing about this, Gemma! The only reason I'm doin' this is because the guys can't. They need our help, whether they admit it or not. As long as I have breath in my body, any time my man needs me to step in, I'm doin' it. If that means I have to walk on the dark side for awhile, so be it!"

They rode in silence for awhile. The soundtrack ended, and Cat changed over to a Mellencamp CD and the cut 'Your Life is Now' came on. Though Cat liked the song, it did nothing to change her expression. Her features remained as stormy as her diatribe had been.

Gemma had silently watched the road, then placed an understanding hand on her companion's arm. "Just checking, kitten. You had me convinced for awhile back there. Just make sure you don't embrace that dark side for good."

"No worries there."

Cat pulled out the two way to check for messages. She'd forwarded her regular cell to it, and set it up to accept a collect call from Alex when she couldn't take the call. She'd left the phone turned off during their meeting with the young Mr. Hayes.

Sure enough, there was a message from her husband. "Damn, woman! I don't like getting voice mail! Juice was attacked in the exercise yard, they're taking him to the local hospital. Any way you can get over there and use the account for him? He doesn't have insurance and Bobby is afraid we'll have to dip into the club funds. Juice put his ass literally on the line for us today. Be safe and be available next time I call."

'Shit! Not good!" Cat saved the message and then activated the replay so Gemma could hear.

"Shit! Definitely not good!"

Cat pulled over to the side of the road. "We're gonna have to switch, I've got to make some frackin' phone calls, get some money to the hospital for Juice. Shit!"

The women exchanged places, Gemma driving while Cat got our her notebook and wallet and started making calls. By the time they reached the drop point, she had arranged via three way calling for the bank to transfer money to the hospital for Juice's care. She knew she'd have some explaining to do the next time Tig called.

"Dammit! Just once, I'd like to do something for the club without getting found out!"

Gemma took charge of the exchange while Cat took the supporting stance. The charter riders knew Gemma and trusted her. The bedrolls were unloaded from the car and the riders took off. The exchange had been made without question or fanfare.

Once the riders had the bedrolls loaded and left to make the delivery, the two women grinned at each other, exchanged high fives and sighed with relief. They'd pulled it off! All that remained was the fallout that would come when their men found out what they'd done.

Chibs woke with a start, not remembering where he was for a moment, then he remembered he was in the hospital and why.

'Thank Gawd! It was jest a dream!' he thought, turning his face to the right. The sight of his estranged wife, Fiona Hughes, sitting in the chair near the window met his gaze. Though he hoped he was dreaming again, he realized that this was anything but. She was a very real presence, his worst nightmare come to life.

---

After making her own donation, Gemma took Abel with her to the church Elliot Oswald attended. His daughter had long ago recovered from being raped by the carnival worker last fall. She was practicing for a group performance at the church.

Gemma had called Oswald's office and was told she'd find him there. She hoped that he would put up the bail for the entire club, since the women's efforts had fallen short of the mark. Oswald listened to her, but refused to help. It was just too much money, and even though Clay had helped squash Jacob Hale's scheme to take his land, Oswald felt it was better to leave the club in jail for awhile and let things between them and Zobelle cool down.

Oswald's refusal crushed Gemma. Tristan walked up to her after her father left to say hi, and asked if Abel was her baby. Gemma smiled and explained she was grandma. Oswald called her away, but she returned as Gemma was holding Abel near the baptismal font and offered to baptize the baby. Tristan dipped her hand in the water and made the sign of the cross on the child's forehead. It was a simple act, but it gave Gemma a little comfort.

Tristan asked her why she was sad. Gemma attributed it to her husband and son being in jail. Oswald came back to collect his daughter, leaving Gemma to her despair.

---

The guard Cat had called gestured from the fence for Clay to approach. "I heard from Tig's 'old lady'. Juice is OK. She said the cut was deep but missed vital organs. She also said that she's working on a way to ensure your man stays in the hospital instead of coming back later today."

Clay frowned. "Did she give specifics?"

The guard shook his head. "I told her there were rules, and she said not to worry about it. Just that she was working with the attending doctor on the matter."

Clay didn't like the sound of that, but there was nothing he could do about it. He thanked the guard and decided not to say anything to Tig. 'No reason to make him worry. Cat's pulled miracles out of her hat before. I just hope she doesn't stick her neck out too far,' he thought as he returned to the clustered riders.

They relaxed at the good news about Juice. If Opie could complete the other task, they'd be able to breathe a lot easier.

---

The first step in setting up Vinnie "Venus" Vale, the transvestite drug pusher on Russell's hit list was to get the necessary drugs to plant on Vale. To that end,

Opie enlisted the help of Lyla, one of LuAnn's actresses. He knew she used coke, had seen the vials in her car when she left it for repair at the garage. Lyla agreed to call her dealer, who brought his wares to the studio.

Lyla had experienced a lot of harassment from that dealer, and she really wanted nothing more to do with him. She wouldn't object to Opie being heavy handed with the dealer. Opie not only roughed up the dealer, but was able to obtain the necessary narcotics that would ensure Trammell could get Vale back to the SJCCF. Trammel pointed out Vale's vehicle, which was pulling into a liquor store parking lot.

Opie rode up to the parking lot, parked on the street and ran up to the drug dealer's SUV. He didn't remove his knapsack until he was crouching beside the driver's door, causing a delay in getting the door unlocked and depositing the drugs under the seat.

In his haste, Opie didn't notice that the bag wasn't completely hidden. He locked and closed the door and rode away, giving Trammel the thumbs up as he passed.

Vale returned to his SUV and drove out of the lot. It appeared that the frame up would work. Trammel fell in behind Vale, lights and sirens going. When Trammel walked up to the door, Vale shot him and sped away. Opie was able to use the deputy's radio to call for assistance, but the deal with Russell was left half done.

---

Tristan followed her father to their car, looking back over her shoulder at Mrs. Morrow. She knew the woman had asked her father for help, and apparently her father had turned her down.

'I feel bad for Mrs. Morrow. She helped me after that man hurt me. All Mommy wanted to do was pretend it hadn't happened,' she thought. 'I know Mommy meant well, but she didn't help me the way Mrs. Morrow did. If Mrs. Morrow needs our help, she should get it.' Tristan waited until her father started the car to speak up. "Daddy, why did you turn down Mrs. Morrow?"

Oswald glanced at his daughter in surprise. She still seemed so little to him, but circumstances had caused her to have to grow up pretty fast this year. "It's complicated, baby. You wouldn't understand."

"Mrs Morrow was nice to me after that man hurt me. She sat with me in the hospital, and I know you asked Mr. Morrow to find that man. He did and made him pay. We owe them for that."

Oswald couldn't respond. He didn't know how his little girl knew about that. He doubted Gemma would've said anything to his daughter. She probably overheard him talking about it to someone.

"Mr. Morrow needs our help, and you refused," Tristan added. "That's not right, Daddy. Whatever they're accused of doing, don't they deserve to be free to prove their innocence? Isn't it our turn to help them?"

Her simple innocence and pure spirit touched his heart. "You're right, baby girl," he replied heavily. We do owe them. I'll take care of it when we get home."

They rode in silence for awhile, then Tristan reached out her hand to her father's arm. "Thank you, Daddy."

When they got home, Oswald called Rosen and made arrangements to cover the bail for the club. Rosen would get the bond posted so the men could be home that night.

Clay returned to the cell the club was sharing with other inmates. He felt tired and old. The guard had just brought him bad news. "We just heard over the scanner that Trammell was shot on duty. He's in serious condition."

"What the Hell happened?"

"Trammell radioed in he'd gotten a tip about a known drug pusher, Vinnie Vale, and was going to make a traffic stop. Next thing we heard on the radio was some civilian calling in that Trammell was down. He wasn't wearing a flak jacket. The wound's pretty deep. On the plus side, the hospital called to alert us that your man has an elevated temperature and won't be coming back tonight. They're keeping him until his temperature returns to normal, or he bonds out."

Clay felt terrible. 'Trammell wasn't supposed to get hurt, damn it! The deal with Russell is only half done, leaving us in a hell of a mess! The only good thing is Cat getting the extra hospital time for Juice. At least he's safe!'

Clay shared the news about Trammell with the club only to have Jax ask if Opie was safe. Jax didn't seem to care that Trammel took one for the club. The kid was really getting on his nerves.

"Morrow! Come here!" One the guards called. Agent Stahl had requested a meet with him but the guards wouldn't tell him that.

As Clay was led away, Bobby attempted to try to talk some sense into Jax. The situation between Clay and him was wearing down the club at a time when they needed to be together.

Jax remained unswayed. He wanted the club to become what his father had outlined and it wouldn't as long as Clay was in charge. As far as Jax was concerned, Clay's age and experience didn't make him a good leader. Bobby was trying to hold everything together, but he was getting tired of the constant tension between step-father and son.

---

Clay was handcuffed to a table waiting for whatever or whoever was going to enter the interview room.

When he saw Agent Stahl walk in his stomach rolled. A perfect end to an already not so perfect day.

Things got worse as Stahl placed surveillance pictures of Zobelle meeting with the IRA reps at the MCC the previous day. She wanted the Sons to roll over on the IRA as it was obvious the Irish had turned on the Sons. Clay knew then that their deal with the IRA had been changed, but he didn't let on to Stahl.

As in all her dealings with the club, Stahl spoke to deaf ears. She gathered her pictures to leave the room and threw her last shot at Clay, that she knew he had something to do with Donna's death.

Clay was returned to the holding cell and the guard called for Jax next. As Jax walked up to Clay, the younger man acted like he wanted to apologize, but Clay let go with a roundhouse punch to his step-son's jaw and the fight was on.

Tig and Happy rushed to intervene, but Bobby stopped them, telling them the pair needed that fight. Both men fought hard against each other, raining blows on face and body. Alarms were going off in the facility as the two continued to batter each other. All Tig could do was stand by and watch as the two beat each other.

Eventually, several guards ran to the holding cell to separate the two. Both were taken to the infirmary to be treated. No one noticed Agent Stahl watching the results of her taunt.

After he'd been treated, Jax was led to the interview room in handcuffs. Agent Stahl laid the surveillance pictures of the Hayes men and Zobelle in front of Jax. Stahl offered to make all the club's legal troubles with Zobelle go away in exchange for giving up the Irish to her; she would even go so far as to get Otto's parole back on track.

Jax wouldn't take the bait. Agent Stahl told him the club was free to go as their entire bond had been posted hours earlier.

Cat sent the MCC pictures to Rosen as soon as she had them downloaded, then called him to follow up. "Check your in box, I sent you some pictures," she announced. "I stopped by the Christain Center today, and took some pictures of the podium. They show outgoing, not incoming holes. Someone shot at the guys from it."

"I see the email," Rosen replied. "Hang on." There was a pause as he examined the pictures. "They look good. The tape showed none of the guys anywhere near the podium. Unfortunately, you can't see much else on the tape. It's pretty poor quality."

"Can you tell whether it's been edited in any way?"

"Not really. Gemma mentioned you were interested. Frankly, I don't think the tape is going to make any difference for either side. Unless someone at the Center steps forward, the county won't have much of a case. Those pictures of yours are going to be a big help. Thanks, Cat."

"Not a word to Tig or Clay about this. At least not until they're out on bail," she replied.

"I understand. Do you have hard copies?"

"Yup, in a safe place. I don't trust all these digital gadgets. Too much can go wrong." She'd printed off a set of the pictures and locked them in the medical histories safe before calling Rosen.

"Good. I've got another call to take, Cat. Take care of yourself."

She was exhausted and weak from the blood donation. Her arms hurt like Hell. Whenever she got stuck for donation or blood work, the puncture site would be bruised and sore for days.

Gemma had given her hell for the double donation. She knew if Alex found out he'd do the same, or worse. Gemma was sworn to secrecy and her arms would be healed by the time the guys bonded out. It looked like this was one time she'd get away with doing a good deed.

She had just lay down on the bed when the two-way buzzed for her attention. She picked it up, hoping this wasn't news of another injury or worse.

"Bond's been posted, baby. We're on the way home."

"Thank God! Do you want me to come to the garage?"

"Nah. We're gonna be in the clubhouse. Don't know how long it will be. No reason for you to sit in the dark when you can be safe at home."

"OK. I'll be waitin' for ya."

"Don't. It'll be late when I get in."

"Glad you're out, love. See ya when I see ya."

The thought that the guys weren't going directly home was not welcome news. Something must've gone down while they were in custody. She couldn't worry about that. Alex would be tired, hungry, and stressed from his ordeal.

She put a few beers and Snickers bars in the fridge to cool and defrosted a steak in the microwave, putting it in her own special marinade. It might be several hours before he was home, but she intended to make sure he came home to a hot meal, a cold beer, his favorite chilled candy bar, and an unstressed wife.

She took a shower and put on a flowing gown and robe. The discoloration on her inner arms looked as ghastly as they felt. She'd just have to be careful not to let the bruises show. She knew from experience that makeup wouldn't cover them.

Her pouch growled at her. She cut off a strip of marinated steak for herself and cooked it rare. She felt better for having eaten and shared some of the meat with the cats. There was still plenty of steak left for Alex.

Once she and the cats were satiated, she curled up on the couch to watch for his motorcycle so she could welcome him home. Misty and Ming settled next to her while Ebony lay across the top of the sofa. She had a tape of music selections playing that most reminded her of Alex. The only light in the room was from the front porch and the table lamp. Her activity during the day and her relief at the club's release, along with the shower and the music wore her down. Soon, female and felines were sound asleep.

---

The short ride to Charming was quiet but uncomfortable for the Sons, coming on the heels of the fight between Clay and Jax. The tension between them was heavy, even though Jax was in the very back of the van while Clay rode shotgun next to Happy. No one spoke during the ride, making it seem to take longer than normal.

The Sons were happy to see the grounds of Teller Morrow, the clubhouse, and the line of parked motorcycles. They piled tiredly and gratefully out of the van.

Gemma and Tara came out of the office to meet their men. Tig was relieved that Cat had listened to him and stayed home. 'I know it's selfish, but I don't want the tension here to mess up our reunion.'

Jax walked away from the van, passing his mother and girlfriend without a word, heading for the stairs that led to the roof of the garage. The others followed Clay into the clubhouse. As the women watched, both doors slammed closed, effectively shutting them out from both sides.

The meeting didn't last as long as Tig anticipated. They all shared a beer, but never entered the chapel. It had been a long, tiring day. There was a lot that they needed to discuss, but they were worn out. All they wanted to do was go get some sleep where they didn't have to keep one eye open for trouble. They agreed to meet the next afternoon.

Tig's bike was parked in its usual place. He mounted it and put on his helmet. He considered calling ahead but decided against it. He didn't want any more delay. He started the engine and headed home.

Home. The word made his heart race. 'I never realized what that means to me,' he thought. He'd not had a real place to call home in years. He'd had places to crash, but no place where he felt wanted and welcomed and where he felt safe. 'Cat's given me all that. I have something and someone to look forward to every day. I can close my eyes around her. Why did I have to be taken away from it to really appreciate it?'

He turned onto his street and saw the welcoming glow of the front porch light. He pulled into the drive, the headlight illuminating the PT, the Yamaha and the front window. He felt a sense of welcome to see the living room light left on for him and Cat curled up on the couch with the other felines around her. All four of them were sound asleep. He could hear the stereo playing. "I've not heard that before,' he thought, as a cut from the Eddie and the Cruisers II soundtrack, 'Just a Matter of Time', drifted through the slightly open window.

He leaned against the porch railing he'd sat on the afternoon he'd forced that first kiss on her, watching her and the cats through the window and enjoying a smoke. He soaked in the peace and tranquility that radiated from his home. As tired and worried as he was over the widening rift between Clay and Jax, he was content.

He finished his smoke and quietly opened the door, keeping an eye on Ebony so he wouldn't get out in the dark. The cats raised sleepy eyes at him. Their expressions seemed to say "Eh. It's just you. About damn time!" They flipped their tails in unison before closing their eyes again.

The aroma from Cat's dinner made his mouth water, and his stomach growled in agreement. He crept to the kitchen to find the marinating steak waiting to be cooked. He opened the refrigerator, pleased to find several bottles of cold beer and some Snickers bars. He opened a beer and took a long, satisfying pull from it while removing a candy bar and closing the door.

'Damn! I didn't expect all this!' It touched him that she'd considered his needs even though she didn't know when he'd be coming home that night.

The cats jumped from the sofa and rubbed their bodies around his legs in greeting. "So you guys missed me, eh? It's nice to see you." He patted each on the head, giving scratches under the chin. The tape had moved on to a cut called 'Wake Me Up'.

His voice woke Cat. She stretched as she stood up, forgetting that the long sleeves of her robe would fall past her elbows. He thought he saw bruises on her inner arms, but she put them down too quickly for him to be sure.

"Welcome home, love. I see you found your treats."

He opened his arms and she rushed into his embrace. He hoped she wasn't offended by the smell of jail as he kissed her deeply and hungrily. 'Damn! She smells good! All those berries in her scent is making me hungry!" His stomach growled again in agreement.

"You're starved," she observed with a grin. "I intended to have this started when you pulled in. Sorry 'bout fallin' asleep,"

"Don't apologize, baby. You didn't have to go to all this trouble for me."

"It's no trouble. If you want to take a shower, I can have dinner ready for you by the time you're done," she replied.

He grinned at her. "Is that a nice way of telling me I stink like the jail?"

She shook her head, her expression serious. "Never in a million years would I go there, love."

He took her chin in his hand, his thumb stroking her lips. "I was kidding, baby. But I will take that shower."

She grilled the steak and heated the veggies while he was in the shower. Alex liked his steaks rare, so the meal was ready by the time he was finished with his shower. He padded out to the table dressed only in a pair of jeans. He looked very satisifed with himself.

"Feel better, love?"

"Much. Ya know, I always like it when you've been in there before me. All those lotions and soaps of yours smell great!" He leered at her as he settled at the table. "Course, I like it better when we're both in there at that same time!"

"Insatiable devil! It's only been a couple of nights!"

"Seemed longer," he gazed at the large plate she set in front of him. "Wow! You hungry? There's enough for both of us," he said, reaching out to hug her while keeping a wary eye on the cats.

"I ate earlier, love. Considerin' what you've been through, I figured you'd be ravenous. What you don't eat can be reheated later." She kissed the top of his damp head and shooed the cats away from the table.

"Feel awake enough to sit with me?" he asked, cutting into the steak with relish.

"Of course." She placed a beer on the table and sat across from him. She sipped at a flat Fresca while filling him in on Chibs' recovery. She then recounted the agreement with the doctor to keep Juice overnight that resulted in an impromptu blood drive at both hospitals, leaving out the part about her double donation. "If y'all wind up gettin' any community service, that's one thing to consider doin'. Hospitals can always use blood," she added.

He nodded in response as he swallowed some beer. 'Damn decent of her to go to all that effort for Juice. She barely knows him, except for his work on the website. Dunno why it surprises me. I'm glad she's in our corner. Maybe she's willing to become more open to what goes on with the club.'

The steak was just the way he liked it and the steamed vegetables were buttery and crisp. He was more hungry than he'd thought, and consumed the entire plate.

"With all y'all bonded out, I'll make arrangements tomorrow to have Juice moved to St. Thomas. If the account is going to pick up on his care, I want him closer to home," she added.

"You're the boss where that's concerned," he replied, pushing his empty plate aside. "That was good. The stuff they serve can barely be considered food. It definitely has no taste."

She smiled as she stood up to take his plate to the sink. Instead of removing his plate, Cat found herself drawn onto his lap and kissed very soundly.

"God, I'm glad to be home!" he nuzzled her neck.

She rested her head against his shoulder. "That makes two of us. There's a lot of things I'd like to say about the other night, but it can wait. No fussin' tonight." She stood up and rinsed his plate and utensils before putting them in the dishwasher.

He rose from the table and walked behind her, enfolding her in his arms and pressing up to her back. There was no doubt about what was on his mind. She turned to face him, that wayward eyebrow inching it's way up.

Once he removed her robe and gown, Alex could clearly see the discolorations on both her inner arms. He winced at the sight of them. "Did they have to stick you twice?"

'Damn! I forgot! No good deed ever goes unnoticed around here! Guess I'd better come clean,' she thought. "It only hurts if I put pressure on 'em," she replied. "I did get stuck twice, but not at the same hospital. One arm gave blood in Juice's name, the other for Chibs."

Tig frowned. "They let you give two pints in one day?" He growled in the manner he used when she had done something detrimental to her well being.

She shrugged. "They didn't ask. I didn't tell until I fell on my ass in front of Gemma and everybody else.

It's just a couple of pints. I'll be fine, love."

He brought her arms up and carefully examined the bruises. They were several shades of black, blue and purple. "Dammit woman!" he whispered, brushing his lips against each, making her shiver with delight. "You scare the Hell out of me sometimes. Don't do anything that foolish like that again. I've grown pretty fond of you and want to keep you around awhile."

He picked her up and placed her on the bed, removed his jeans and lay beside her, holding her close as if he was afraid she'd fly away. Though his body hummed with need, he was content just to hold her.

"Don't worry, Alex. You're stuck with me for life," she assured him, her hand moving slowly from his chest to below his waist. Her hand let him know that she was ready, willing, and able to give him a proper welcome home.

"That's one sentence I don't mind serving," he replied, nuzzling her neck as his lower regions responded to her ministrations.