Disclaimer: I do not own Sons of Anarchy.

AN: They're back! This is the final installment in the Jax and Jolene trilogy. I'm very excited about this story and would really appreciate feedback, so if you read, please review. Enjoy!

Being a mother, a working woman, and a newlywed old lady was not an easy job—but Jolene fuckin' loved the shit out of it! Having given up the dream of someday being Mrs. Jackson Teller a long time ago, Jolene had to keep pinching herself as a reminder that she wasn't dreaming. And, as Jax was fond of telling her every time she mentioned it, the reality was so much better than the dream.

Married for less than two months, Jax and Jolene were definitely still in the "honeymoon" stage. After wasting four years apart, on a permanent honeymoon was where they hoped to stay for the rest of their lives, which was why Jolene gave a sigh of relief when she peeked in on Abel and saw him finally fast asleep.

The little booger tried every trick in the book to stay up, she thought with a smile.

After three bedtime stories, a drink of water, and a bathroom run, she finally got Abel to settle down for the night. Life in the Teller household was starting to settle into a steady routine as well, which made Jolene giddy with joy. After the manic craziness of Gemma's fairytale biker wedding, followed swiftly by a honeymoon in Lake Tahoe, the newlyweds had returned to Charming and were quickly thrown back into the reality of their lives, including their respective jobs and responsibilities. Jolene as wife, mother, daughter, and educator, and Jax, back in the saddle of his very demanding position as Vice President of the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original.

Jolene sighed as she turned off the lights in the hallway and headed towards the master bedroom. The honeymoon, which had taken place during spring break right after the wedding, had been short, but oh-so sweet. Her Uncle Elvis had, as a wedding present, managed to secure for them a one-room cottage right along the lake. Although not as spectacular as the cabin they had on their engagement weekend, it was secluded and cozy and did not have the shadow of the tragic events that had followed their first trip.

As Jax had predicted, they had spent their honeymoon pretty much without the benefit of clothes. They made the most of their alone time together, and although she had missed her baby Abel, it was almost like they were the only two people on earth. As far as Jax was concerned, it was the perfect honeymoon because the last thing he wanted to do was share his old lady with the whole world if he didn't have to.

But even though Jolene was a big fan of "naked time" herself, she also knew that naughty lingerie was an important part of a woman's wardrobe. Just when a man thought he knew his woman, it kept him on his toes and reminded him just why he had fallen so hard in the first place. Although Jax didn't need any help in that department, underwear with strategically placed holes certainly did keep the home fires burning.

Luann was always right on the money about things like that, Jolene thought poignantly.

It was the death of her stepmother's oldest and dearest friend that had brought Jolene to Big Otto, who in turn had brought her to her senses. Jolene missed Luann dearly, but if something good could come from such a tragedy it was that Jolene had her old man back because of it and now, with their son, they could finally be a family.

Looking at her watch, Jolene gave a little yelp when she saw the time. Jax had told her that he hoped to be home by 11:00, which gave her slightly a little over half an hour before he showed up. Flinging off the tank top and shorts she had been wearing, Jolene ran into their bathroom to take a quick shower.

She had a lot of work to do before her old man walked in the door.

Devon's Irish Bar was probably as Irish a pub as you could get. Other than crossing the Great Pond that was the Atlantic, that is. Charming had a population of approximately 15,000 residents and there were a large number of bars that served the town, including Devon's. Located several blocks off Main Street, the bar was frequented mostly by locals, who often dropped by on the way home for a pint of imported Irish ale after a hard day at work, as well as by the fourth and fifth generation American-born Irish locals from as far as Modesto and Lodi.

Many of Devon's patrons were well aware of the bar's rumored ties to the Irish Rebellion. The Pub, as it was affectionately known among the regulars, was responsible for raising thousands of dollars which was sent back to Ireland to aid the RIRA. The Pub also provided a safe haven for those who conducted business on behalf of the Cause.

Which was why Clay was currently sipping on a Guinness that the bartender and owner had offered free of charge. Dressed in plainclothes, Clay sat with Jax in a darkened corner of the Pub close to the rear exit. Jax surveyed the dark-paneled room, while Tig sat in the opposite corner, a strategic position which allowed him to watch the entrance.

"He's late." Jax said, referring to Michael McKeavey, the longtime liaison between SAMCRO and the RIRA.

"It's not like him, but he has yet to miss a meeting." Clay replied, lighting one of his favorite cigars.

Word had come down from halfway across the world that the RIRA wanted to have a sit down with the Sons. Coming so soon after his sit down with the Irish Kings at his daughter's wedding, Clay had a bad feeling about the whole night and he said as much to his VP.

"None of this feels right." Clay said, rolling his cigar between his thick fingers. "Any thoughts you'd like to share?"

Jax, whose mind had started wandering towards all the naughty things he intended on doing with his new wife when he got home, pulled his mind out of the gutter and back onto Club business.

"The rough patch the Kings told us about, according to Chibs' contact in Belfast, is a lot more serious than they let on. The word 'insurgency' was thrown out there, off the record, of course." Jax started. "At most, I was hoping for a repeat of the shit that went down a few years back when we couldn't get merch for a while. But another sit down so soon and word of a rebellion within the Rebellion makes me think they're stepping up their fundraising efforts."

"Shit! You mean by raising our cost?" Clay growled.

He too had hoped for the worst case scenario to involve a delay in future shipments. That the Club was prepared to deal with. Not only had SAMCRO been able to accumulate serious bank over the last few years, they still had plenty of ways to earn with the small hardware they could hardly keep in stock and their recent agreement with the Wahewa to sell the ammo the tribe manufactured. If that was the worst they had to deal with, then so be it. However, Clay didn't like Jax's second scenario at all.

"If that's the case, their fundraising efforts are going to significantly cut into our business." Clay stated.

Jax nodded grimly. "LaRoy and the other crews probably won't take too kindly to a raise in pricing, but with the Niners H-business thriving, LaRoy can afford the bump. The other, small-time crews may fall by the wayside because they can't. We may not feel it right away, but long-term, SAMCRO's gonna end up losing money. We might have to consider expanding our customer base."

Expand our customer base, Clay let the words rattle around his brain.

Suddenly, grasping the direction his VP was leading him in, Clay sat up straight. "The Mayans?" He asked incredulously.

"Hey, I'm just thinking out loud, but it's something we might have to seriously consider." Jax replied. "Aside from the Niners, what other crew do you know can afford our merch?"

Not even taking into consideration the Club's deal with LaRoy not to sell to Alvarez, the thought of doing business with a sworn enemy rubbed Clay raw. Bad blood between the Sons and the Mayans went a long way, back to when JT was still alive and sitting at the head of the table. Bloody '92 was the worst period in SOA history, and Clay did not want a repeat of that shit. Like it or not, however, his VP was right. Times are achangin' and maybe it was time to review old policies. At the very least, maybe they could renegotiate a new deal with the Niners that would keep their gun business profitable.

"You make a good case, VP, but until we know for sure, there's no point in borrowing trouble." Clay stated, his cigar clenched between his teeth.

Just as Jax raised his shot glass of Jack to his lips, the Pub's doors swung open and two men entered. With narrowed eyes, Jax watched them approach the bar to speak with Seamus Devon, the burly bald-headed Irish ex-pat who owned the bar. As Devon pointed a finger in their direction, Jax straightened in his chair.

"Looks like we're about to have company." He warned Clay as he slipped his hand under the table to check his KA-BAR.

Clay lowered his glass to the table and, as both men approached, Clay and Jax stood up.

"Good evening to you gentleman." The older of the two men directed at Clay with an unmistakable Irish accent, "I believe that I am addressing Clay Morrow, yes?"

"That you are. And just who might you be?" Clay asked silkily.

"My name is Jimmy O'Phelan and this here," Pointing to his companion, "Is my associate Luke Moran."

With his game face on, Jax took a good look at O'Phelan. With the slim, but muscular build of a runner, the man whose closely cropped dark hair was shot through with gray, looked to be in his late 40's, early 50's. Tall and stylishly dressed in what, to Jax's inexperienced eye, appeared to be a custom made suit casually worn, O'Phelan resembled a debonair Irish businessman on holiday more than he did someone connected to the RIRA.

On the other hand, his companion, Luke Moran, was the complete opposite. Short and stocky, wearing a cheap-looking suit that hung limply over his mushy frame, Moran stood at attention by O'Phelan's side. Although it appeared that maybe, back in the day, Moran had been built like a wrestler, it was apparent from the large gut currently hanging over his belt buckle that Moran enjoyed his pints and meat and potatoes much more than his associate.

With no sign of McKeavey, Jax was starting to share in his President unease as he wondered, Who the fuck are these two?

"Well, aren't you well-mannered?" Clay smiled engagingly. Pointing a thick thumb at Jax, Clay said, "And this here is my associate, Jackson Teller. Now that we've all properly introduced ourselves, do you mind telling me why in the hell I should want to know you?" He asked belligerently.

Pulling back a chair from the table, O'Phelan sat down leisurely and crossed his legs, with Moran following suit. "My associate and I are travelling on business from the Six Counties. I believe we have a mutual friend." Looking at Clay, O'Phelan paused. "Michael McKeavey?"

Clay, who had also reseated himself, leaned back in his chair and relit his cigar, which had gone out. "The name may ring a bell or two." Clay said suavely. "What's he to you?"

Moran, finally opened his mouth to answer Clay's question. "A good friend and brother, who we regret to inform you, is no longer amongst the living."

Clay's hand holding his cigar paused on the way to his mouth. "What?"

O'Phelan nodded. "Sadly, McKeavey passed away a week ago Thursday as a direct result of an unfortunate series of events."

"And just what events were those?" Jax asked grimly. "And why, for that matter, should we believe a word of what you're saying?"

"The events were grim, boyo." O'Phelan spoke with an edge in his voice. "And you should believe me because for the last two months McKeavey reported directly to me." Seeing Tig, who had silently moved himself into close range of his target, nodded at him. "You might want to call off your attack dog, Clay. I would hate to start off this new venture with you being a man short."

"Oh, I seriously doubt that would happen." Clay advised with a mirthless chuckle.

Cocking his head at Tig, who grinned at the man maniacally, O'Phelan reached slowly with his index finger and thumb into his breast coat pocket, pulled out an envelope and tossed it on the table.

Reaching for the envelope, Jax opened it and spread out the contents for all to see. The six photos were casual shots of O'Phelan, Moran, and McKeavey at a pub, apparently in Belfast.

"As you can see, Michael was more than just a soldier to our Cause. He was a personal friend and I will miss him very dearly." O'Phelan said with much feeling.

Clay nodded in sad resignation. "You do understand that we had to be sure of your connections."

"Absolutely. No hard feelings."

"What happened to McKeavey?" Jax asked, his guard still up.

"He was a victim of a greedy port official out of Oakland." Moran replied. "Against the advice of Jimmy O, McKeavey decided it was time to try and reestablish the old route for shipping our guns through Oakland. Claimed Vancouver was no longer cost-efficient. Unfortunately, his former port contact had been replaced by a new official, an evil bastard who decided that he didn't want a pay-off, but a cut of our profits. Michael objected, harsh words were exchanged, threats made, and finally the port official had him brutally murdered."

Clay shook his head grimly. Losing a business associate was one thing. Those were always replaceable, but Michael McKeavey had been a dear friend of Clay's going back almost 25 years. Their personal friendship and McKeavey's business association with the Club went back to when JT had first set up the gun running operation with the Irish.

"Is there a plan for retaliation in the works? Anyway we can help?" Jax asked.

"Michael was not just our contact with the RIRA. He was a good friend. You just give the word, and the Sons will take care of it." Clay offered.

O'Phelan nodded. "Michael spoke very highly of you and the Sons. Indeed, I truly appreciate the sentiment and the offer of assistance, but retaliation will be handled in-house and before I leave stateside. Michael was a loyal soldier and brother. He will be avenged."

As amicable and charming as Jimmy O appeared to be, Jax had an extremely sensitive ear for bullshit and his bullshit meter was registering off the charts.

"I apologize in advance for sounding like a douche bag," Jax started. "But how does McKeavey's death affect the Sons and our relationship with the RIRA?"

Leave it to JT's boy to cut right to the heart of the bullshit, Clay chuckled to himself.

O'Phelan's ice blue eyes clashed with Jax's steely-eyed glare.

"For all intents and purposes, it doesn't." Jimmy O replied. "Ours is a dangerous business and contingency plans are always on tap. My job is to oversee the Cause's efforts in this part of the world to generate funds. Michael reported to me, and I in turn report to the Irish Kings. With Michael's passing, and considering your long history with the RIRA, the Kings asked that I call this meeting to personally introduce myself, as well as your new contact," O'Phelan nodded to Moran. "And to discuss our current arrangement with the Sons and your future shipments."

Clay exchanged looks with Jax, who raised an eyebrow ever so slightly. I'm really starting to hate it when he's right, Clay thought.

"As you are aware, our struggles for a free and united Ireland are hard and expensive. The Cause is moving apace and we need to move along with it, which makes keeping our coffers full a difficult task, at best. In recent months, we have experienced a series of setbacks for which a greater cash flow is needed. The Irish Kings have decided that we are long overdue for a bump in selling price and we are here to bring to you their new terms for doing business." Jimmy O explained.

"Any questions so far?" Luke asked, looking directly at Jax, who had finally downed his shot of whiskey.

Jax shook his head slowly. "I'm just waiting for the other shoe to drop."

"Yeah, O'Phelan. Just give us the numbers." Clay insisted, waving his cigar impatiently.

"Now that you have expanded your gun business to include several of your charters, your current order stands at $325K twice a month and with no increase in over 2 years. The Kings have decided that an increase to $400K a shipment, for the same merch, is more than fair." Jimmy O explained.

"Fair for who?" Jax asked indignantly. "For you, 'cause that's a hell of an increase."

And completely out of the blue.

Of all the things discussed with the Irish Kings the night of his wedding, money or the lack thereof was never an issue. Jax's gut was rarely, if ever, wrong and right now, it was telling him that they were getting played. But with Clay giving him a look that screamed for him to pull it back a little, Jax relaxed and pulled out his pack of cigarettes.

There goes my promise to Jo to cut back, Jax thought lighting is fifth cigarette of the day.

"All is fair in love and war, boyo," Jimmy O smirked. "And right now my brothers and I are fighting a war on the losing end."

"While you and your brothers worry about maintaining a lifestyle you have grown accustomed to, we worry about maintaining our lives." Luke interjected.

"Because running guns is like selling real estate?" Clay asked, a little irked. "We have our own risks to shoulder, so this tit-for-tat bullshit will get us nowhere. I'll just remind you, we have an agreement with the RIRA for special pricing the helps in keeping our costs down considering the risks we take brokered by none other than McKeavey himself."

"Yes, that is true, but McKeavey was old guard and your organization is not the only one seeing a change in pricing. We've had to pass this increase to all of our clients, across the board, including the Russians up North and the Albanian crews on the East Coast. There is no unfairness in this. It's simply business. Of course, we don't expect you to come to a decision right away, but we are the only ones who have your merchandise available—" O'Phelan trailed off, knowing he had them by the short hairs.

What other decision could we possibly make that would not have an all-around adverse effect, Jax thought resignedly.

Either SAMCRO plays nice and cooperates or they were facing losing all of their business, most likely to the Russians operating out of Northern Oregon and the Rogue River charter would not be at all happy about that.

Over the past four years, Clay had expanded the gun business to several other charters, including Tacoma, Rogue River, Fresno, Tucson, and Utah. The running of the guns into these territories had not only increased SAMCRO's earnings from the sale of guns at a discount to their brothers, but they also earned 20% of whatever profits those guns generated. The charters who had come on board for the expansion had come to enjoy the benefits of the new business and would not be pleased at the possibility of having the food taken off of their tables all because of a pissing contest between the mother charter and the RIRA.

"We're gonna give your new proposal some serious thought. How can we get in touch with you when we've come to a decision?" Clay asked.

Moran reached into his pocket and pulled out a blank card with a phone number on it.

O'Phelan stood up. "I will be stateside until the end of the week. I would really like to be able to carry back the news of your decision to the Kings." He extended a hand to Clay, which Clay shook.

"All right, we'll do our best to get back to you by the end of the week, O'Phelan." Clay agreed.

"Please, it's Jimmy O to my friends." Nodding at Jax, Jimmy O and Moran casually strolled out of the Pub into the cool evening air.

"What's our next move?" Jax asked, putting out his half-smoked cigarette.

"Before we do anything, we need Intel. Get on the horn with Chibs and see what he can gather regarding McKeavey's death and the dog-and-pony show looking to take a chunk out of our collective asses." Clay instructed Jax, who whipped out his pre-pay. "And tell him to get Juice on it too because we're gonna need as much as he can find by the time we get back to the Clubhouse 'cause we're working against a deadline."

Jimmy O and Luke got into the gray late-model sedan parked down the block from the Pub.

Slamming the driver's side door, Luke looked at his boss. "How do you think it went down?"

Leisurely pulling out a pack of smokes, Jimmy O lit one and took a deep drag. "I think it went well enough."

Luke sighed. This deal was a big one and although Jimmy was sure that they could handle it, Luke had his doubts. "This is a real risk we're taking, Jimmy."

"Oh, but Luke, my boy, the benefits far outweigh them." Smiling, Jimmy O looked at his second-in-command. "I don't think the Sons will be a problem."

"And if they are?" Luke countered.

"Then we'll find a work-around." Jimmy O replied grimly.

Jax made sure that he didn't slam the back door in the kitchen. Finding that the door was still unlocked when he entered the house at this late hour had him simmering with anger. However, all thoughts of laying into Jolene for the unlocked door drained from one head and into the other when he pushed the door to their master bedroom open and found a vision lying across their king-size bed.

Jolene, a sexy siren in a red bikini thong set and stripper heels, her dark hair falling in waves onto the pillows, was posed on the bed.

"Hey, baby." Jolene smiled wickedly, her hands traveling slowly down her torso, pausing briefly to squeeze her breasts, finishing their trek over her crow tattoo and ending up underneath the waistband of her underwear at the apex between her legs. "Miss me?"

Watching her teasingly play with her pussy, Jax ran one hand over his face as he quickly shed his cut with the other and kicked off his sneakers. "Damn straight, darlin'." He replied lasciviously, and pounced.

Giving a little squeal, Jolene tried to jump off the bed, but was quickly snatched from behind and pressed up against warm, hard flesh.

Sending shivers down her spine, Jax bit her ear playfully as he asked wickedly, "And just where do you think you're going?"

Jolene turned in his arms. "The plan was to make you work for it a little bit before I gave in." She teased, pulling back to evade his kiss, but Jax had a firm hold on her bare ass cheeks. She wasn't going anywhere. "Sometimes I just give in too easy."

"Babe, there's no such thing as too easy." Jax went in for the kill again, but was thwarted as Jolene pulled his t-shirt up over his head.

Jax watched her, a half grin on his face, as she ran her hands over his muscled chest. She was biting her lip and making small appreciative noises as she trailed her fingers down to his washboard abs, causing him to shudder in anticipation of what she was going to do next. Unbuckling his SAMCRO belt and unzipping his jeans, Jolene smiled up at Jax as she reached in and gripped his erection through the thin material of his boxers.

Jax bit his lip to keep from groaning through the delicious sensations her little fist evoked as she rubbed him deliberately.

"You're hard." She announced, sounding almost surprised.

Jax raised an eyebrow. "Sure looks that way, darlin'."

"For me?" She was looking up at him with bright, doe eyes.

Shit, he was going to make a meal out of her. "What do you think?"

Before she could respond, Jax swept her into his arms, his mouth enveloping hers. It was slow at first as they savored being in each other's arms again after a long day apart. Grabbing fistfuls of her hair, Jax started moving his lips quickly against hers, softly parting them as his tongue sought refuge.

Kissing each other for a long time, Jolene felt herself drifting away when she suddenly gasped. She was breathing heavy, her face buried into the side of his neck as Jax reached between them and let his fingers slide into her already-moist panties.

"You like that?" Jax breathed into her hair as he started rubbing slow, tight circles between her lips.

"Yes . . ." Jolene panted, her breathing erratic.

Stopping himself short of bringing her to the brink, Jax dropped soft kisses on her face as he reached behind her and unfastened the hooks on her bra. Slowly pulling the straps off her shoulders, Jax let her beautiful tits fall against his chest as he tossed aside one of the barriers keeping him from his wife. Gently extracting her hand still wrapped around his dick, Jax laid her on the bed against the pillows as he proceeded to remove his jeans and boxers, their eyes firmly fixed on each other.

Jolene smiled up at her old man. He was beautiful and strong and looked like a Norse god kneeling on the bed over her.

"Take off your panties." Jax commanded, the authority in his voice causing Jolene to quiver.

With half-hooded eyes, Jolene obeyed and hooked her thumbs into her thong, slowly pulling them down. Jax watched, his breathing also slightly erratic and his eyes smiling as they danced over her. Lifting her legs up, she pushed her panties down her thighs, over her bent knees, and pulled them off. Swinging them around once, twice, Jolene tossed them at Jax, hitting his chest.

Jolene coyly bit her index finger and giggled as Jax brought the red thong up to his nose and inhaled, her scent, as usual, driving him mad. Tossing them aside, there were no longer any barriers keeping him from his wife. Unbuckling the sexy six-inch platforms she wore, Jax tossed one over each shoulder and slowly lowered his hard body against her soft, supple one as he started kissing and nuzzling her neck.

"God, Jo, you are so fuckin' beautiful."

Jolene moaned softly, relishing the feel of his body weight on her. Balling her hands in his short, but rapidly-growing hair, Jolene arched her body against his as Jax started the achingly slow process of worshipping her with his mouth, kissing every part of her. Jolene closed her eyes and smiled to herself. She loved when he did this as it reminded her of their first time together. He lovingly took his time kissing her hair, forehead, eyes, nose, and both cheeks before hovering over her mouth and kissing her already-swollen lips lovingly and slow. Moving further, Jax stopped briefly to nip softly at the base of her throat before dropping kisses on her breasts.

Once again, trying to grasp as much of it as she could, Jolene ran her fingers through his hair as he made slow, deliberate circles with his tongue on her pierced nipples. Jolene moaned wantonly as he moved further down her body to where she wanted him the most, and he knew it too. Spreading her legs apart, Jax smiled as he hovered over her moist entrance as Jolene tried desperately to keep from bucking her hips. Without warning, his mouth was on her, his tongue pushing its way inside, savoring her and Jax loved every moan, gasp, and whispered obscenity that escaped her as he pushed her to the edge. She was close, he could feel it.

"Don't, Jax. Please, no, baby." Jolene begged, pushing herself up onto her elbows even as she felt on the brink of passing out. "Not yet. I want you inside me, please."

Flashing her a wolfish grin, Jolene could barely get a groan out before Jax had her on top of him. With her hair tumbling against his chest, she reached down between her legs and stopped him from entering her. Still in the mood to tease him a little longer, Jolene started massaging him gently. She was smiling wickedly as she could tell it was building up in him, too. Jax closed his eyes in pure ecstasy, arched his back, and moaned.

"Darlin', you're killing me." He was breathing heavy as he grabbed hold of her hips. Moving her hands to grip his forearms, Jolene positioned herself over him, and pushed down achingly slow.

They both groaned as Jax felt the familiar tightness he loved latching onto his cock as he stuffed her completely. Jolene began to move against him, slowly at first. With his fingers digging into her delicate skin, Jax bucked his hips as he watched her desperately running her hands through her hair and down her body as she rode his dick mercilessly.

"Oh yeah," Jax groaned, fighting to keep his eyes open and glued to her beautiful bouncing tits. "Like that, baby." Jolene was swiveling her hips and Jax was on the brink of losing his fucking mind.

Jolene let her head fall back as she arched her back. Gripping Jax's muscled thighs, she continued moving against him as she started to feel that all too familiar rumble. Jolene never wanted this feeling to end, but she couldn't think straight. She needed only one thing to drive her over the edge.

"Faster. Please, baby, faster."

Guiding her hips, Jax helped her move as fast and as hard as she could, and neither could take it any longer. Jolene let out a primal scream and Jax growled like an animal as they both exploded against each other. Jolene let herself fall against Jax, before rolling onto her back on the bed, exhausted.

Turning his head towards her as he tried to catch his breath, Jax smiled as Jolene's eyes fluttered closed. "Don't even think about it, woman. I'm not done with you yet."

With her eyes still closed, a smile spread over her beautiful, but sweaty face as Jax reached out to pull her into his arms. Jax's heart, still beating hard and fast, nearly exploded in his chest when he heard a tiny voice.

"Whatcha doing, Daddy?"

As Jolene let out a little yelp-slash-squeal, Jax looked over his shoulder and down to see Abel standing by their bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

Aw, shit!

Quickly flinging the bedcovers over Jolene, Jax scrambled in his brain for something to say and finally replied with the best answer he could come up with.

"Mommy and I were wrestling." Jolene flashed him a look that said What the fuck are you thinking? Shrugging his shoulders, Jax quickly changed the subject. "What are you doing up, Little Man?"

"I think I heard something under my bed." Abel replied, his bottom lip quivering as a lone tear ran down his cheek.

Jax swung his legs onto the floor and stood up, naked as the day he was born. Walking to Abel, he scooped up his son, and his boxers, off the floor. "Well, let's go check it out." Looking over his shoulder, he winked at a pink-cheeked Jolene. "I'll be back, darlin', but you might want to clean up a little." Jax had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't be returning alone.

In the fifteen minutes that Jax and Abel were gone, Jolene was able to set things straight and had changed into one of Jax's oversized SAMCRO t-shirts. And it was a good thing too because Jax returned with Abel in tow.

"Abel knows there's nothing under his bed, but he thinks it would be a good idea if he spent the night with us anyway." Jax plopped Abel down on the bed and the little boy quickly scooted up right next to his mother to snuggle down.

Jolene smoothed down his hair and kissed him on his forehead. "Are you okay, baby?"

"Uh huh! Daddy said we gonna get a dog." He exclaimed happily.

Jolene whipped her head up to glare at Jax, who held up both of his hands in surrender. "I said we'd think about it, babe. It seems that Abel would feel a lot better in his room alone if he had some company."

"Oh, I see." Jolene replied with a smile. "Would you really like to have a dog, baby?"

Abel nodded emphatically. "I'd like a sister more, like Kenny has, but a dog would be fine, too."

Jolene's eyes nearly popped out of her head as Jax did everything he could to contain his laughter, but it still managed to escape as a snort. Jolene shook her head as she marveled at just how intuitive her little boy was. Just like a certain grandma of his that shall remain nameless.

Knowing that they were actively trying to get pregnant again, Jax winked at Jolene. "Maybe if you ask Mommy nicely, she'll consider it, but make it a baby brother first. Daddy needs time to prepare for a daughter."

I need time to deal with my rage issues, Jax thought grimly. Because I will kill the first asshole that pushes up on my daughter, especially if she looks like her mother.

"Jackson," Jolene started sternly, trying to put not only the topic of babies, but her son to bed as well. "It's time to go to bed. Could you turn off the light, please?"

Joining his family on the king-size bed, Jax reached up to switch off the lamp. Pulling Jolene and his son into his arms with her head resting on his shoulder and their son cocooned between them, Jax dropped a kiss on her lips and one on his son's sweet-smelling head. Jolene wrapped one arm around her old man's waist possessively and, before he could say goodnight, Jax smiled as he watched his wife and son quickly drift off to sleep.