Chaming Pawse Bk III Chpt III SO Revelations

by wanderingchat

SAMCRO finally begins the hunt for Abel and Cameron Hayes, while Cat continues to support Alex's endeavors to keep Gemma safe from the Feds in OR. During Sack's wake, disturbing revelations from an eenemy surfaces and a hero is killed

The characters and events involving the Sons of Anarchy are the creation of Kurt Sutter.

No copyright infringement is intended.

Any use of lyrics and the mention of songs and performers in this text is also not intended to infringe upon any copyrights held by any of the artists.

All original characters that are not part of the SOA universe are products of my own imagination. Any similarities to real persons are pure coincidence.

Love and thanks go to the DH, who is very much alive and well; along with my best friend and my 'unofficial' god – daughter for being part of my family. Also, much thanks to the members of , , the Indy Tarts and Tartans Gerard Butler fan group, SOA Forums, Watchers of Anarchy, Kim Sisk (author of Sapphires and Whiskey), and my Facebook and Twitter friends for their support. A big thank you for those readers who have written reviews and listed me as a favorite author here at FanFiction. Net.

Finally, much thanks to Mr. Kurt Sutter for creating the SOA universe in the first place, and to Mr. Kim Coates for his excellent portrayal of Alex 'Tig' Trager.

Charming Pawse

Book III

Chapter III

SO

Revelations

and

a Hero Falls

The smell of fresh brewed coffee welcomed June as she stepped into the hall from her room. She'd thought she'd have trouble sleeping, but fell into a deep slumber the minute her head hit the pillow.

She entered the kitchen to find a note propped against the vase of bluebells. 'Those poor things look a little wilted,' June observed as she picked up the folded over piece of paper.

"Mornin' kittenface! Put this together in case I don't get up with the roosters to have cawfee with y'all.

Coffeepot's on a timer. You remember how the brewstation system works. The brew will be fine if I don't get to it right away. Creamer's in the fridge, and the blue packets are in the cupboard over the brewstation.

One of my staff will be over with breakfast. Alex and the staff are the only people who use the back door. I thought you might want to try the house specialty, especially since Alex won't be around to snarf 'em up."

A tap at the back door caught her attention. She put down the note and stepped to the door. Years of habit made her ask who was present in spite of Cat's assurances in the note.

"It's Anna, one of Miss Cat's employees. I brought breakfast."

June unlocked the door to admit the woman who carried a 'Charming Pawse' pastry box. "C'mon in. I'm June."

"Miss Cat's friend from Florida. She told us you'd be here while Mr. Tig is up North at that vehicle show," Anna replied with a slight smile.

"Ah, you know about that already?"

Anna nodded. "Oh, yes. Mr. Tig was insistent that we keep an eye on her and not let her overdo while he's gone. He really didn't want to go, but Miss Cat seemed to think he needed something to make up for all the fuss and bother of the wreck."

June marveled at the skillful way Cat had woven the cover story so that her employees wouldn't have to compromise themselves with the Feds. "Do you need to speak with Cat while you're here? I can wake her."

"Oh, no, ma'am. I've got to get back, Adrian's manning things on his own for the moment, but the breakfast rush is about to start! It was nice to meet you!"

June walked to the door with Anna. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm sure I'll see you later. Thanks for bringin' breakfast!"

Anna waved and hurried back across the lawn to the back of the coffeehouse. The cats scampered through the run behind her to make their morning appearance.

June placed the pastry box on the table and opened it to reveal an array of muffins and scones. 'The house specialty might not be good for my diet, but maybe one won't do too much damage!'

She lifted the golden brown delicacy from the box and set it on a plate. A smile crossed her features as she thought of how Alex might react if he knew she was sampling one of his treats.

"Mornin' sunshine!" Cat yawned as she limped into the kitchen. "Find everything OK?"

"Sure did. These things should come with a surgeon general's warning!" June mumbled through a mouthful of chocolately goodness.

Cat stuck a coffee mug under the brewstation and turned a questioning eye on her friend. "What do y'all mean?"

"These things taste far too good not to be hazardous to y'all's health! I'm surprised Alex hasn't developed a jelly belly!"

Cat grinned and handed the filled mug to June. "He's a busy boy, always on the go. Just like Bill, he can eat like a pig and ends up lookin' like a prize stallion!"

"Don't ya just hate that?" June commiserated. "We have to work like demons just to be able to work off enough calories for a grape, while they can pack it away."

"Heathens, that's what they are," Cat agreed, filling a second mug with coffee. "Sleep OK?"

"Wonderfully. How about y'all?" June was regarding her with critical eyes, assessing the weariness on Cat's face and circles under her eyes.

"Not real well, as y'all can obviously tell."

"Uh, huh. Still feelin' guilty about the Amber Alert?"

Cat winced. "Christ! Couldn't it just have been because I'm missin' my bed partner?"

"If it were anyone else, sure," June replied, sipping some of her coffee then tearing off a piece of muffin. She chewed thoughtfully before adding, "Based on our talk last night, it sounds like that Fed bitch would've canceled the damn thing anyway, and you runnin' her off the premises – which y'all had a right to do, by the way – is an excuse. Ya need to stop this, chick!"

"Stop what?" Cat inquired innocently, helping herself to half of a white chocolate strawberry scone.

"Y'all know damn good and well what! Ya aren't gonna get better if ya drag yourself down emotionally. Everybody's told ya it's not your fault, so get off the pity pot, for cryin' out loud!"

Cat glared at her friend for a few moments, then settled into Alex's usual seat at the table. She felt a small amount of comfort in sitting there, as if his strength was wrapping her in safety and security.

"I suppose you're right, kittenface," she sighed. "Thinkin' like that is just lettin' Stahl win, and I don't intend to let that cow butt beat me!"

June grinned encouragingly. "That's my girl! Now, not to change the subject, but what can you tell me about the hierarchy of this hospital?"

"I've met the chief of staff, Dr. Barry. He's pretty decent, but I doubt you'd have much contact with him."

"Health information puts one in direct contact with medical management, including the upper hierarchy. It's necessary in order to make sure the medical staff fill out the paperwork correctly," June explained before taking another sip of her coffee.

"Then you'll also have to deal with the hospital administrator, Margaret Murphy." Cat announced wryly.

June grinned at her tone of voice. "Something tells me you've dealt with her and don't like her."

"I had a run in with her during my stay at the hospital; we're not fans of each other. In fact, y'all might not wanna admit to knowin' me, unless y'all wanna have a difficult time of it on the job."

June set her cup down and rested her arms on either side of her plate, cradling the unfinished muffin and clasped her hands. "OK, chick. Spill. What did y'all do to her while you were in her hospital?"

Cat rolled her eye. "What makes y'all think I did anything to her?"

"I know you. Tell me what you did to her, Cat."

"I didn't do anythin' to her, just about her. She came to my room askin' about my relationship with Alex. I wasn't in the mood to put up with it, and reported her behavior to Dr. Barry."

June nodded and cradled her coffee cup in both hands. "That wasn't very professional of her. You certainly had every right to report her for stickin' her nose in your business!"

"She got a bit of a dressin' down for it, or so I was told. Margaret strikes me as the type who gets even. She'll go outta her way to make trouble for y'all just for bein' my friend. Hang on a second," Cat stood up and walked to the kitchen phone.

"Who y'all gonna call?"

"Definitely not Ghostbusters," she replied, removing a small notebook from a drawer. She looked up an entry labeled 'TJ' and dialed the number to Jax's house.

"Yeah," the voice answering the phone belonged to Jax. His voice sounded hoarse.

"Cat here, Jax. Tara handy?"

Jax cleared his throat noisily. "You a'right?" he inquired worriedly.

"I'm fine, Jax," she assured him. "I just need to talk to her about female stuff."

"Oh. Sure. Hang on," he replied.

The receiver fell onto a hard surface with a 'thunk'. Cat could hear muffled conversation between the two, then the receiver was picked up. "Cat? Are you having pain?"

"No, darlin'. I'm fine. Just needed to ask a favor of y'all. My friend, June, is startin' work there today takin' care of the health information stuff; her work's gonna require her to have to be in contact with Miss Margaret."

"She has my sympathy!" Tara remarked dryly. "And you want me to pretend like I don't know she's your friend, right?"

Cat grinned. "You catch on fast, doc!"

Tara snickered, then guiltily looked up to see whether Jax was watching and disapproving of her laughter. He'd disappeared into the nursery again. "It would certainly make her work life a little easier!"

"Things goin' OK over there? Jax sounds like he was rode hard and put up wet."

Tara sighed. "He sobered up long enough to make the move last night back to the house and pick up his bike. First thing he did when we got in was pick up a bottle of whiskey and hole up in the nursery. He never came to bed."

"Is he talkin' to y'all?"

Tara sighed. "Words of one syllable when he does speak, which isn't often."

"Is Neta comin' over later?"

"No. I called and told her not to bother. No one for her to watch," Tara replied. "I'm going back to work later today, but don't want to subject anyone else to his behavior."

"Can't say as I blame y'all for that. Besides, between you, me, and whoever else might be listenin', he's over 21, and if he's gonna ride buzzed and/or drunk, he deserves what he gets!"

"Cat!" Tara's voice was shocked.

"Listen, I sympathize, but Jax is actin' like Abel's dead. He's been sittin' around, drinkin' himself into a stupor for the last three days while Hayes had probably been puttin' plenty of miles on his boat. The longer Jax lallygags around, the harder it's gonna be to find the baby!"

Tara was silent for a long time, making Cat wonder if she might've said too much. "You're right, Cat," the doctor replied softly. "He's not the only one hurtin' from Abel's disappearance, but Jax is all wrapped in up his own misery. There's no talkin' to Jax. I'm about ready to ask Clay to talk to him."

"That might be a good idea, kitten. Clay's his step – father, and his president. He might be more willin' to listen to him."

"Thanks for letting me vent a little, Cat. I'm looking forward to meeting your friend - away from the hospital!"

"Appreciate your help on this, Tara."

Cat hung up the phone and turned triumphantly to June. "That'll even out the playin' field for y'all. Knowin' Miss Margaret, she might still make things difficult for y'all on principle, but at least it's gonna be on yer own merits if she does!"

"Gee, thanks!" June sniffed. "I gather from your side of the conversation Jax is the father of the missin' child."

Cat nodded.

"You didn't sound very sympathetic about his situation. He's a parent; it's hard to have your kid taken from you."

Cat slipped back into Alex's chair and ran her good hand through her hair. "He's been lookin' for answers in a bottle of booze for the last three days instead of lookin' for anything that would lead him to his kid!"

"You've never been a parent," June reminded her softly.

"No. I parented vicariously. I just feel like if someone took a member of my family – you, my parents, Alex – I'd be makin' fur fly to get all y'all back!" Cat observed.

"I suppose so," June took her plate and cup to the sink, rinsed them out, and stacked them in the dishwasher. "Some guys don't have as big a pair on 'em as y'all have, chick! What time are ya s'posed to test drive the replacement car?"

"Anytime before they close, which is six tonight. I'm gonna ask one of my staff to go with us; promised Alex I would. That way, I don't wear myself out drivin' and gettin' him upset from the inevitable tattle tale."

June grinned wickedly. "My, my! You're gettin' a soft spot for the lad! If you're not careful, y'all are gonna have to renounce your membership in the Feminist Movement!"

"Huh! They recalled it when they learned I'd hooked up with an alpha male!" Cat retorted.

"Makes up for when they didn't take it away from you for marryin' Bill, though he wasn't as demonstrably alpha as Alex," June laughed as she walked to the front door where her purse and briefcase were waiting. "I'll see y'all after work! Take it easy!"

"Always gotta have the last word, don't ya?" Cat murmured, watching June gather her things and head out the door.

"Love y'all too, chick!" June called just before she closed the door behind her.

Tig stretched in the bed, allowing himself to get accustomed to his surroundings. Sunlight filtered through the drawn curtains at the window to the motel room. He could hear the reassuring roar of Harley engines outside.

"Must be SAMROR arrivin' to take over from the Portland boys," he smiled at the way Cat constantly referred to the Rogue River charter as SAMRRO. 'Guess it's kinda hard to keep the acronyms straight when you're not used to it.'

He glared at the silent two – way on the bedside table. He'd hoped to wake up to a good morning message, finding the message indicator empty had been disappointing. 'She's keepin' her word, damn her! It'd be kinda nice to hear her voice like I do every morning!'

The bed felt cold and lonely without his woman and the felines to warm it. 'Surprised I slept at all without hearin' her snore, not that she'd ever admit to it!' He got out from under the covers and slid into his jeans and shirt from the day before.

The motel room featured a small personal coffeemaker. He dumped the premeasured package of coffee into the filter, poured water in the tank, and turned it on. In moments, the aroma of hot coffee permeated the room.

'Not as good as home, but I'm not openin' the whiskey blend for one or two cups!' He glanced at his watch and determined he had enough time for the coffee and a muffin before venturing outside.

While the coffee brewed, he turned on the television and tuned to the weather station, hoping to catch the local forecast. Promptly at the eight minute mark, the local break came on. He nodded approvingly at the screen as it proclaimed sunshine and mild temperatures.

"Tig? You awake?" Gemma's voice called through the door. "SAMROR's here."

"A'right!" he called back, pouring a mug half full of coffee. It smelled strong; his nose wrinkled at the aroma. 'Wish it was Cat's brew. Just hope this shit doesn't taste as bad as it smells.'

He took a sip and nearly choked. 'Shit! This is awful!' He carried the mug to the door and stepped outside, blinking owlishly in the sunlight.

"Morning sunshine!" Gemma chortled, leaning against the outside wall. "See you found the ownership's idea of coffee."

"Tastes like parts cleaner," Tig complained.

"Too bad you couldn't bring any from home," Gemma mourned. "I'd love a decent cup."

"Maybe the SAMROR guys know where we can find somethin' decent," Tig replied, reaching for his jacket with one hand and handing his cup to Gemma with the other.

She accepted it long enough for him to shrug into his jacket and slide his sunglasses over his eyes, then handed the cup back to him as he shut the door.

"Talk to Cat last night?"

"Yeah. She's a'right. Her friend from Florida is workin' temporarily at St. Thomas and stayin' with her."

"Good. Talk to her this morning?"

"Nah, not yet. Figured I'd wait until we get resettled."

"Been in contact with Clay?"

"Still early. Gonna get ya a throwaway so you can talk to him."

"I'd like that," she replied as they came up on the SAMROR riders. Gemma stopped a few feet from them as Tig continued forward.

"Hey, Tig," the SAMROR president, known as Old Wolf, greeted him with the usual 'bro hug double back tap'.

"Thanks for the back up, Old Wolf. SAMPOR heading back North?"

Old Wolf shook his head and glanced quizzically at Gemma.

"She knows about Sack," Tig murmured just loud enough for the SAMROR president to hear.

"Sleeved Biker said they wanted to attend the wake and check on your old lady."

Tig nodded appreciatively, taking another sip of the horrible coffee.

"Damn! You've got balls to be drinkin' that shit! Tap water here isn't good for anything 'cept washin' and shittin' in!"

"I've noticed," Tig replied dryly, deciding not to mention how uniform and large his gonads were. "So what's the game plan?"

"We're gonna pay for another night here, but move to another hole in the wall place outside Rogue River," Old Wolf announced.

"A'right," Tig swallowed some more of the coffee.

"Who's taking Gemma?"

"She'll bitch ride with me." Tig announced, his tone of voice indicating no further discussion was needed.

"A'right. Can you be ready to leave in an hour?"

"Yeah." He signaled for Gemma to follow him as he turned back to their rooms. "Get packed. We leave in an hour," he announced, tossing the remainder of his cup out on the ground.

"Where are we goin'?"

"Some hole in the wall place outside Rogue River."

'That's pretty close to my Dad. Wish I could talk to him.'

"I know ya miss your dad, Gemma, but we can't take the risk. Your mom -"

"I know, Tigger," she murmured softly. "He prolly wouldn't remember me anyway. Take a couple of minutes and try your girl."

She laid a hand on his arm then disappeared into her room. Tig poured the remainder of the coffee into his mug, tossed the chargers for the phones in his duffel, and then keyed the two – way.

As the companion phone rang, he unwrapped one of the Snicker Bar Muffins and took a big, appreciative bite. 'Tastes as good as if it came straight outta the oven!'

The voice mail answered. He nearly choked on his muffin at the recorded greeting. Her voice, and the laugh evident in it, made his heart rate increase. "Hey, love! I knew y'all weren't gonna play by the rules! Leave me a message, and I'll call y'all later on. I'm doin' a'right. Slept OK, 'cept for the empty space next to me in bed. Be safe."

"Hey, back! You're gettin' just a little too smart for yer own good, woman! Just called to see how yer doin'. Didn't sleep so well myself. Be available next time. You know I hate phone tag!" He shut off the two – way and shoved it in his pocket. Admitting that he'd not slept well was as close as he could admit to her that he missed her.

He flipped open the throwaway and dialed the number to the clubhouse.

"SAMCRO clubhouse. This is Chuckie."

"Tig. Who's there?"

"Bobby. Wanna talk to him?"

"Yeah."

Chuckie passed the cordless phone across the bar to Bobby. "It's Tig."

"How's it goin' brother?"

"A'right. We secure?"

"Yeah."

Tig outlined the morning's plans with SAMROR. "I'll pick up a throwaway for Gemma in Rogue River, then she can talk to Clay when she wants. Does he wanna talk to her now?"

"Clay's not in yet. I'll brief him when he gets in," Bobby replied.

"A'right. We're leavin' in an hour. Prolly call in a couple of hours."

"Ride safe, brother," Bobby replied, turning off the phone and passing it back to Chuckie.

"Sounds like everyone's safe," Chuckie mused.

"Yeah. Almost," Bobby inhaled deeply on his cigarette. "I'll bring Clay up to speed when he gets in, gonna check on the garage."

"I accept that," Chuckie acknowledged, heading out to the kitchen area as Bobby strode to the doorway.

Cat grinned at the message Alex had left on the two - way. "Don't like phone tag, eh? Bet y'all were a devil on the playground when y'all had to be 'it'!" Her stomach fluttered at the sound of his voice in her ear, just as it did whenever he nuzzled her neck.

She stuck the two – way in one pocket and the Iphone in the other, then left the house to drive out to the clubhouse to pick up Chuckie.

Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of Alex's Dyna sitting near the garage office, instead of close to the clubhouse like usual. "Looks like most of the gang's here," she murmured, parking the Shabby Lay and walking towards the clubhouse.

The roar of an approaching Harley made her heart jump again. 'Dammit! Get hold of yourself, girl! Alex is across the state line. You can't be getting' the vapors every time you hear a Harley!'

She stifled her disappointment with an effort and waved at the approaching rider, who zoomed past her with a casual wave then backed his bike into the head of the line near the office, leaving one spot between it and Alex's.

Clay shut off his Super Glide, set it on the kickstand, and unstrapped his helmet, wincing at the pain in his hands. 'Gemma's really the only person who can get the injections right. I fuck it up every time I try.'

Cat waited near the back end of the rental as Clay walked towards her. "Hey, Cat. How ya feelin'?" his gravelly voice rasped in greeting.

"Pretty good, all things considered. I imagine y'all spent as lonesome a night as I did," she replied sympathetically.

"Didn't your friend get in to stay with ya?"

"Sure, but she slept in the guest room. I slept with the cats," she explained with a grin.

"At least you had somethin' to warm the bed. Mine was cold, and I'll bet the cats are quieter than that damn bird of Gemma's. Damn thing wouldn't shut it's beak, even with the cover over the cage."

"He missed his person," Cat observed.

"He's gonna get stuffed if he doesn't shut up at night!"

Cat had to work hard not to grin. "Can you put the bird in another room where it can squawk all it wants but you don't hafta hear it?"

Clay glanced over his sunglasses at her, a perfect imitation of the 'look' Alex would sometimes give her. "Ya might have a point, there. What Gemma don't know won't hurt me, eh?"

"Remember Sergeant Schultz on 'Hogan's Heroes'? I know nut tink!" she snickered.

"Appreciate the back up, Cat." Clay paused to light his cigar and inhaled deeply. "Let's get outta the sun," he suggested, taking her elbow and walking with her to the picnic table near the clubhouse entrance. "I dunno about you, but this sunlight is buggin' me."

She nodded and allowed him to escort her to the table. She sighed with relief to get out of the sunlight and into the shaded area.

"Want some coffee or somethin', Cat?"

"Nah. I'm good. Y'all have somethin' more on your mind than Gemma's bird."

"You've helped the club a lot lately; especially comin' up with that cover story for Tig's absence." He took another deep inhale on his cigar before continuing, "Do ya think you can get along at the coffeehouse without Chuckie?"

Cat glanced sharply at Clay. Though she wore both the clip – on and warp around sunglasses, he could see the irritated gleam in her eye. "Don't tell me Tig's been talkin' behind my back again! I'm perfectly OK to drive short distances! Christ!"

Clay grinned at her. "Whoa, Cat! Tig's innocent this time. With Gemma on the lam, I need someone to run the office. I can't spare any of the guys to handle that shit and could really use Chuckie's help."

Cat gave the matter careful consideration. "It sounds like it'd be good for Chuckie; he won't lose any money on the deal, that's for sure."

"He'll actually pick up more than workin' two jobs," Clay replied.

"And he is good at that kind of thing. I won't be able to serve customers until the cast and bandages are off, but I can resume the admin stuff," she continued. "I suppose if it's OK with him, it's fine with me. Have y'all asked him yet?"

"Wanted to run it by you, first. I owe ya at least that much!" Clay blew a billow of smoke through his nostrils. 'Hell, I owe ya more than that, but it's the best I can do right now."

"I hate to lose a good man, but it's for a good reason. Y'all need the help. As long as I can borrow his services from time to time."

"Whatever for?" Clay asked in surprise. 'First Tig, now Cat. What do they see in this guy?'

Cat shrugged. "I kinda like him. He's smart, and he's got a good sense of humor."

"You've gotta be kiddin' me! Chuckie?"

"Sure! Y'all didn't get off on the right foot with him before because of that 'problem' of his. Give him another chance, Clay." She put her good hand in front of her face, spat in the palm, and held it out to him. "Have we got a deal?"

Clay stared at her proffered hand. He was familiar with the rum runner's handshake, but hadn't engaged in it for some time. Then he held up his hand, spat in it, and clasped hands with Cat. "We've got a deal. Smuggler's word."

Chuckie came outside, still wearing his apron and carrying a towel. Cat reached out and snagged the towel, wiping her hand with it before passing it to Clay. "Chuckie, you're goin' on indefinite loan to Clay. He needs your expertise more than I do, and he can give y'all more hours."

Chuckie stared from Clay to her and back again to Clay. He knew Clay's opinion of him wasn't the highest, though he had gained some ground in coming forward about the arson at Caracara.

"On the level, Chuckie. I could really use your help."

A wide grin spread across his face and his eyes lit up. "I accept that!"

"I'll leave ya to the new position. You'll still part of Charming Pawse, kiddo. I'll be by to get y'all tonight for the wake, OK?"

"I accept that, too, Miss Cat. You be careful driving home."

"I will be. See ya later, Clay."

"See ya tonight, Cat." Clay gave Chuckie a look and he scampered after her, making sure she got safely settled in the HHR.

"You sure you're OK with this, Miss Cat? I don't mind working both jobs and don't want to leave you in a lurch."

She gave him a small smile, laying her hand on his arm. "I'm fine with it, Chuckie. You're needed here. If I'm busy at the coffeehouse, I won't be gettin' into trouble and drivin' Tig nerts."

"I accept that!" He grinned. "OK, Miss Cat. I'll see you tonight." He stepped away from the car, standing watch as she backed it out of the parking spot and headed towards the street, tooting a cheery goodbye on the horn.

Clay lifted a hand in farewell as she passed him, and she saluted back. Chuckie watched until the rented vehicle turned onto the street and out of sight, then crossed the lot to Clay.

"Don't say anything, just get to work. You can finish in the clubhouse, then get started in the office," he growled, rising to his feet with a tired sigh.

"I accept that," Chuckie grinned, following Clay into the clubhouse.

SAMROR had arranged for rooms at the Rogue River Motel, just outside down. 'Reminds me of the place in Eureka those bounty hunters took me to,' Tig thought when they pulled into the parking lot.

It was cheap, but it was clean. More importantly, the Rogue River Motel was run by friends of the club and located well off the major highway, making it easier to avoid entanglements with law enforcement.

Tig was relieved that the short ride was over. It hadn't been pleasant for him, and he doubted Gemma had enjoyed it, either.

Tig had felt uncomfortable carrying another woman on the back of his bike. 'I'm so used to havin' Cat behind me; havin' another woman – even Gemma - on the back of my bike just doesn't feel right!'

Gemma had been unwilling to hold onto his waist for the ride, though he offered to let her. "I'll just hold on to the back bar, Tig. Less chance of distracting you," she responded, reaching behind her to grasp the metal support.

"You won't be a distraction, Gemma. It's not like you're gonna try anything!" he protested feebly.

"I'm makin' sure of it!" she retorted, glaring furiously at him until he relented and turned back to the front of the bike.

"A'right, have it your way!" He strapped his helmet in place and keyed the ignition. 'Somethin' tells me I'm gonna have a constant battle with her!'

Their mutual discomfort proved to Gemma that there were still issues to be resolved between them. 'We've really gotta get past this shit since we're gonna be spendin' time together!' she mused. 'Otherwise it's gonna be difficult. Damn if I know where to start fixin' things between us!'

Cat drove straight back to the house, glared at the van still parked across the street and walked to her back yard, crossing it to the coffeehouse. She pulled the detector from her pocket to scan the grounds to be rewarded with an all clear signal.

Though she could hear Alex's voice in her mind admonishing her to rest, Cat wasn't in the mood to be obedient. She didn't want the administration details of her business to get ahead of her.

The 'lull' was about to descend on the coffeehouse; a good time for her to check in with the staff and check the coffeehouse for any listening devices.

She popped into the front area and waved a cherry greeting to Anna and Adrian. Then she walked around as if she were just doing a normal check of the premises.

The detector gave the all clear to the front, so she checked the back as well, sighing with relief that everything was clear of Fed wiretaps.

She slipped into her office, logged onto the computer and began pulling the orders from the web page.

"Hey, Miss Cat! Where's Chuckie?" Adrian called as he passed the office with full trash bags dangling from each hand.

"He's gonna be helpin' out at the garage for awhile. It made sense, since he's stayin' at the clubhouse," she explained. "I need somethin' to keep my mind occupied."

"OK," Adrian replied. "Glad to have you back, Miss Cat. Nothing against Chuckie; it's just not the same without you around."

"Thanks, darlin'. I've missed all y'all, too."

Adrian went on to the back door to deposit the trash in the bin while Cat printed out the invoices for the merchandise and coffee orders.

'Looks like I need to pick up some more of the feline trio today. We're about out. I never thought with all the other plush out on the market that there'd be such an interest in the kitties.'

She inserted her 'Sounds of the 70's' cassette in the portable boom box and hit 'play'. She'd discovered long ago that work always went faster when she had something to listen to.

The first song was Bobby Sherman's Easy Come, Easy Go. She grinned as she reached for the first priority mail box and the sealing tape dispenser. She put the various sized boxes together first, then attached the invoices to the lids of the boxes so she'd know what items to put in each box.

Though it meant making repeated trips back and forth from her office to the storage closet, Cat found the work invigorating. She sang along with the music as she worked, and soon had the boxes packed, labels printed and attached and the orders ready for the postal carrier to pick up.

"I understand Chuckie isn't working for us any longer?" Miss Anna inquired during her break, which she spent in Cat's office. She'd brought a cup of chipped ice for her employer to munch on.

"He's goin' to fill in at Teller – Morrow until Gemma returns," Cat replied. "After that, we'll see what happens."

"Did she really do everything the news claims?"

"You've met Gemma. What do you think?" Cat gazed intently at her employee.

"I think she was set up," Anna replied quietly. "Maybe I'd feel different if any other Fed besides that Stahl woman said it happened the way it did. But it doesn't seem like Mrs. Morrow at all. I don't blame her for taking off. It's like she's living that movie 'The Fugitive' when you think about it."

"I'm glad to hear that, Anna," Cat replied. "We need to have a staff meeting about that later, would you and Adrian stay when Pete and Christopher get in?"

Cat never asked her employees to stay after their shifts. "Of course we can, Miss Cat. I'll pass the news to Adrian."

"I appreciate that," Cat replied, helping herself to some of the ice.

Miss Anna went on back to the front while Cat worked on the finances and ordered supplies, including ordering more of the plush animals. She arranged to pick up the plushies later that afternoon.

The feline trio were made by one of the very first customers to the coffeehouse, a SAMCRO widow named Tina Lou. Her husband had been killed in the motorcycle club wars of the 1990's, leaving her to raise their son alone. SAMCRO helped as much as possible, but she still had to work and raise her child. She sold handicrafts - knitting, embroidery, and handmade plush animals - for extra money. She'd brought along an example of some of her handicrafts on opening day, hoping to secure another site to display and sell her work.

At the time, Cat hadn't considered merchandise sales, other than ground coffee. Though disappointed that a business relationship wasn't in the works, Tina Lou continued to frequent the coffeehouse, and became a good friend to Cat, especially after she became Tig's old lady.

Cat had liked Tina Lou's work immensely. When when she decided to go into merchandising as an additional source of revenue after giving the club a share of the business, Tina Lou was the only vendor she considered to make the feline trio.

"The only caveat to this arrangement, Tina, is that one dollar out of every sale gets sent to the local animal shelters. That's important to me."

Tina Lou had agreed to that provision, providing both small and large sized replicas of the three cats. They were instant hits, both locally and on the website, and sold steadily.

As a gesture of thanks for Tina's hard work, Cat had added a link on the website and Facebook page to Tina Lou's other handiwork. The end result was additional sales of all of Tina's crafts. As an additional incident to sales, anyone ordering Tina's other works through the Charming Pawse website got reduced shipping, and Cat would pack those orders with the coffeehouse merchandise. That saved Tina from having to pay for shipping herself, which meant more money going into Tina's account.

With the orders packed and ready to go, she checked the roasted bean and pastry inventory. The freezer was still full of pre – baked items, and the roasted coffees were completely stocked. "Thank you, kids!" she grinned.

She wasn't sure which of her employees was responsible for the fully stocked inventory, but she was thankful to each one of them for taking care of the business in her absence.

Clay sat in his chair in the chapel, smoking his cigar and missing Gemma like crazy. It was difficult for him to concentrate on work or anything else.

When he'd dropped a wrench the fifth time in as many minutes, Clay hollered for Dog to take over for him and he'd stalked away to the clubhouse to sulk.

Bobby found him in the chapel, smoking and staring into space. 'Maybe the call from LaRoy will perk him up.'

He ambled inside and briefed Clay first on Gemma and Tig's whereabouts. He assured Clay that the news about Abel hadn't gotten to Gemma's ears, though the news about Sack had made headlines.

Clay rumbled a reminder that Gemma was not to know anything about Abel's disappearance.

Bobby nodded an affirmation and added that the One – Niners had been located a 'person of interest' who might be able to give them a lead on Cameron Hayes and Abel.

After Cat had announced to the club that the Amber Alert had been canceled, Clay had stepped outside the house to make some calls under the guise of having a smoke.

He contacted the Grim Bastards MC president, Lin, and Laroy. All three gang leaders knew of Abel's kidnapping and Sack's death from the news reports. They were shocked and more than willing to help SAMCRO.

The most difficult call Clay made was to Marcus Alvarez, president of the Mayans.

"You have a lot of nerve calling after what you pulled on the highway today, esse!" Alvarez growled coldly into the receiver when he heard Clay's voice.

"That's not an issue right now. In case you haven't heard, my grandson's been kidnapped."

A prolonged silence met Clay's announcement. "What can I do to help?"

Clay closed his eyes with relief. Family meant everything to Alvarez, just as much as it did to Clay. "Have your club keep their ears open for anyone being asked to provide fake ID papers for an Irishman, especially if he has one made for a child."

"I'll do that," Alvarez replied softly before closing his cell phone.

Alvarez' VP gave him a significant look when he closed the cell phone.

"Nothing has changed," Alvarez stated flatly. "This will lull SAMCRO into a false sense of security." He turned his steady gaze on Salazar, president of the Calavarez MC.

"You will proceed against SAMCRO as planned the night of the wake for their prospect," Alvarez intoned. "If you take out Clay, that's fine with me, you'll be in. Do not hit the VP."

Salazar nodded and retreated to his bike, followed by his VP. As the two rode away, the Mayans VP continued to stare at Alvarez.

"And you think Clay has balls of steel!" He murmured.

"Mine are heavier and colder," Alvarez replied. "Despite their grief at missing a child and having a man killed, SAMCRO has to be taught a lesson."

Bobby had been surprised to learn that Clay had reached out to the Mayans, and even more surprised that Alvarez had agreed to help. He was relieved that it was the One – Niners who had come up with intel that might lead to Cameron Hayes.

He knew they couldn't meet the One Niners without Jax. He hoped it wouldn't take long to get the VP sober enough to ride to the meet.

Piney, Juice, Happy, and Chibs were sitting around the clubhouse as he and Clay left the chapel. Opie announced that CPD had allowed Jax and Tara to move back into Jax's house the night before. Clay strode from the clubhouse, the other men following silently in his wake.

"I'll keep this short; since Miss Anna and Adrian have put in a busy day already," Cat announced to her staff. The only members not present were Chuckie and JR. The latter was still in classes and not due until after school was out.

"We've got serious business to discuss. Chuckie is on loan to Teller – Morrow until Gemma returns. I'm gonna resume the admin; need something to keep me busy while Tig's away. I'm gonna rely on all y'all to handle the front end."

"Nothing to worry about, Miss Cat," Pete assured her. "We got things down to a science while you were in the hospital."

"I know and appreciate that. Next item. With Gemma on the lam, the Feds are gonna be keepin' watch on anyone with ties to SAMCRO. That includes us. We may get wiretapped."

"Could they tap our homes?" Anna inquired.

"I dunno. I've got a call into Rosen about that but haven't heard back. I know they have to show probable cause for that kind of thing and get a court order. All y'all should be OK at your homes; your personal lives aren't interwoven with the club as much as mine is."

"Doesn't matter if they do, all they'll learn is that we only know what we hear on the news," Adrian piped up.

"And all we know about Mr. Tig is that he needed something to relieve the stress from your accident, so he's at a trade show in Tacoma," Christopher added.

Cat gazed intently at each of her employees. They met her gaze unflinchingly.

"Tig left a bug detector with me, and I've run a few checks around here throughout the day."

"So that's it! I wondered why you kept walking around the front area!" Adrian exclaimed.

"Just makin' sure we didn't have an infestation of electronic bugs. When I'm not here, assume that 'big brother' is listenin' in, and behave accordingly."

"If anyone asks about Mrs. Morrow, or the club, we know nothin' more than what's in the news, right?" Christopher offered.

"That's the sum of it, darlin'," Cat replied approvingly. "I appreciate your support in this, as you've supported me – and the club by extension – since all y'all hired on. If it ever becomes too much, feel free to tell me. I'll not think less of any of y'all."

No one moved or blinked at her pronouncement. As always, her staff was solidly behind her.

Old Wolf swung his pickup truck into the parking lot of the Rogue River Motel, parking it near room 6, where Gemma Teller Morrow prowled like a caged panther.

'Maybe I should've picked up some books or magazines for her, besides the local paper,' he thought. 'It's hard to know what a woman like her would read. Be my luck to bring her a bodice ripper when she prefers Louis L'Amour!'

He slid from the cab of the truck and tucked the local newspaper under his arm. Then he picked up a cardboard carrier tray of coffee from the local gas station.

"Hey, Tig! Coffee!"

"Hope it's better than that swill I had earlier!" Tig growled, moving forward to take one of the large cups Old Wolf offered.

"I waited while a fresh pot brewed," the Rogue River rider replied. He handed out coffee to the other two riders and moved towards the door to Gemma's room.

Tig raised a hand to stop him. "Did you check the paper over?"

"Of course. Nothin' about Jax's kid bein' missing. A small blurb about all the deaths in one day in San Joaquin County, and a bit about Gemma bein' at large. No pic, just a description."

Tig frowned at the news. He didn't like hearing that a description of Gemma had been published. 'Too many people will look twice at anyone matchin' her description. She's already restless, not bein' able to get out once in awhile will drive her up the wall. Won't help me, either'

"It's a pretty general write up, Tig. Height, coloring, last seen wearing type of thing," Old Wolf assured him. "I brought one of our throwaways from the clubhouse. Figured she

could use it to call her family."

Tig nodded, giving non vocal approval for Old Wolf to take the items to Gemma. He'd already lifted the lid from his cup of coffee and was inhaling the aroma. 'Still not as good as Cat's, but it's better than that other shit!'

He sipped his coffee as Old Wolf handed Gemma the coffee cup, newspaper, and the cell phone. He saw her eyes light up at the sight of the phone. 'She misses Clay as much as I miss Cat. Likely she's already been out to get Chuckie to the coffeehouse. I know she's lookin' forward to gettin' the Black Beauty later today.'

He sipped some more coffee and winced at the way he'd so easily slipped into her habit of calling the vehicle by its' christened name. 'Damn! Now she's got me doin' it!'

He strode across the parking lot to Gemma's open door and peeked inside. Gemma was sitting at the foot of the bed, a rapturous expression on her face, sipping her own cup of coffee.

"It's not the whiskey blend from Charming Pawse, but it'll do!" Gemma sighed.

'Guess I'll have to ask Old Wolf to bring a jug of bottled water over so I can make a pot of the whiskey blend tomorrow!' He cleared his throat and replied, "To quote Chuckie, 'I accept that'. It's better than that sludge this mornin'."

"Did you check in with Clay?"

"Bobby. Clay hadn't gotten in yet," Tig explained.

"Likely the bird kept him awake. My boy can always sense when I'm not home, even if the cover's on the cage," Gemma mused. "Doubt he did any better in an empty bed than we did.'

"Go ahead and call him."

"Wonder if Wayne got my cell back to Clay yet."

Tig shrugged non noncommittally and turned to face the parking lot, allowing Gemma some privacy to talk to Clay, but nearby in case he was needed.

'Last thing I'm concerned about is that fuckin' blackberry. Can't see the good in those smart phones. I like that Iphone of Cat's. It's larger than a flip phone, but flat. Doesn't leave a bulge, easier to work with. Just too damn expensive to use for throwaways.'

Gemma decided to try the clubhouse first.

"SAMCRO Clubhouse, this is Chuckie."

"It's Gemma. Shouldn't you be at the coffeehouse?"

"Cat's agreed to let me help out at the garage," Chuckie replied. "She's gonna take over the admin duties at the coffeehouse, says it'll keep her out of trouble and not drive Tig nuts worrying about her."

Gemma laughed, the first true lighthearted laugh she'd had since that awful moment in the house at Galt. "I'm sure he'll appreciate that! Is Clay around?"

"Sorry. He and the guys just left to meet up with Jax. Club business," he replied somewhat apologetically.

"That's OK. You take care of my boys."

"I accept that," Chuckie replied before the phone went dead.

'Dunno why the guys are havin' to meet up with Jax,' she frowned. 'I'll call Bobby, if they're real busy, it won't be a problem if he doesn't answer. Clay would be torn up if I called and he couldn't take it.'

"Why isn't Chuckie workin' at the coffeehouse?" Tig inquired over his shoulder, not looking directly at Gemma.

"He's fillin' in for me at the garage. Apparently Cat wanted something to do that wasn't too strenuous and would keep her outta trouble."

He grinned over his shoulder, "Dunno if that's possible. Trouble seems to be her middle name!"

"I knew you'd appreciate her efforts," Gemma snorted, rolling her eyes at his back. She dialed Bobby's cell number and waited for an answer.

The men of SAMCRO parked along the street in front of Jax's house. Jax's bike was in the drive, sitting next to Tara's Olds. His truck sat on the street in front of the house.

Instead of just walking on into the house as he normally would, Clay knocked on the door, giving Tara the courtesy of inviting them in. She pointed to the nursery, indicating Jax was there.

Clay leaned against one wall, watching as Opie carried Jax into the bathroom. 'Cold shower will sober him up pretty quick. I hope.'

He heard Bobby talking on his cell phone. Bobby had moved into the kitchen as soon as he entered the house, and was bent over the table writing on a pad.

"He's right here, darlin'. Hang on," Bobby moved into the hall beside Clay, holding out the cell phone. "It's Gemma."

Clay held the phone for a moment, summoning every ounce of inner strength he possessed to keep from betraying his emotions. His heart leapt at the sound of her voice in his ear. 'I can only imagine how Tig feels about his separation, and my lady is in one piece!'

His gut clenched when Gemma asked about Abel. 'How in the Hell can I pretend that he's a'right when I don't know?' He inhaled deeply before assuring her that their grandson was fine and he'd be sure to kiss him for her.

Clay sighed with relief when the call ended. He felt better for having heard Gemma's voice, but the conversation had traveled through dangerous waters. He drifted into the kitchen where Tara had brewed fresh coffee and was serving the men as they waited for Jax.

Opie had quietly and quickly stripped Jax of his pants and drawers, then placed him on the floor of the shower, turning the cold water tap on full and adding just enough hot water to make the water comfortable but still counteract the effects of the booze.

Tara turned at Clay's entrance into the kitchen and asked to speak privately with him. They moved into the nursery to talk, neither looked directly at the empty crib.

"I called Neta, she knows about the kidnapping; it's been all over the local news. I suggested she take some time off." she reported, stalling for the courage she needed to ask Clay about her upcoming interrogation with the Feds.

"That's good. But I don't think you called me aside to discuss Abel's babysitter. What's wrong?"

Tara explained her concerns about the upcoming meeting she was scheduled to have later that day with the FBI and Stahl. Deputy Chief Hale had delayed it as long as possible, but there was no getting out of giving her statement to them.

Clay listened to her concerns, then advised her to tell everything that had happened, except for the Sons' association with the Irish. He assured her that the club's relationship with Hayes wouldn't facilitate Abel's return.

He could tell that Tara was still nervous in his presence. 'She still feels responsible and thinks I blame her.' He assured her that she was the best thing in Jax's life right now and pressed his lips to her forehead.

Tara was touched by the gesture; it told her the things Clay couldn't easily find the words to say to assure her.

Jax walked out of the bedroom, his hair still wet from the shower. The men embraced, Jax assuring his step – father that he could ride, but he needed a moment to talk with Tara.

As the cold water worked to clear the booze induced haze from his mind, Jax determined that he needed to end the relationship with Tara for her own good.

'I'm draggin' her down a tunnel she doesn't need to go down. This isn't her world. Death, destruction, hate; none of it. I'm goin' into a dark place where she doesn't need to be. It'll be better for her without me.'

Getting Tara to accept that was a different matter. He'd expected her to balk at the idea of splitting up; and she didn't let him down. In the long run, he told her it was for the best and left her leaning against the cabinet in the nursery.

'She'll leave. I've shut her out over the last three days, not comforted her or talked to her. I don't blame her, but I can't be what she needs. I'm too dead inside.'

He started his Harley and put it in gear, following Clay down the street. Unbeknownst to him, Tara was giving vent to her feelings, taking out her frustrations on the nursery like a cyclone.

ATF Agent June Stahl's eyes smoldered with rage. She couldn't believe the field supervisor was holding her responsible for Ethan Zobelle fleeing the country.

"You created friction between SAMCRO and the IRA. You jeopardized a three year investigation into the white separationist movement," Agent Richard Sullins informed her coolly.

"Thanks to you, we have nothing to show for all the time and manpower invested in that enterprise. Zobelle has left the country, we think to his home in Hungary. We're left with a trail of dead bodies and an infant kidnapped by Cameron Hayes. I'd say you've done quite a bang – up job, and not in a good way!"

"I'm not at fault for Abel Teller's kidnapping!" Stahl snapped. "That's on Cameron Hayes!"

"Keep telling yourself that long enough; you might convince yourself, Stahl!" Sullins retorted. "You'd be the only one convinced of it. Frankly, there are things about your status report from Galt that don't add up. There are far too many inconsistencies."

Stahl stared fiercely at Sullins. "I gave an accurate report, and I have the bruises to show where I was attacked!"

"Forensic evidence doesn't support you. If it were up to me, I'd have you suspended pending the outcome of the investigation. Unfortunately, company policy doesn't allow me to do so without more proof."

Stahl smiled triumphantly and rose from her seat.

"Hold on! I'm not finished yet! While I can't suspend you, I can reassign you." Sullins admonished.

"What do you mean?" Stahl inquired warily. 'I don't like where this is leading!'

Sullins moved so that he was standing nearly nose to nose with Stahl. "You're off the IRA case, and you're demoted. No official car, no agents working under you. I'm putting Special Agent Carter in charge of the IRA case."

"You can't do that!" she snarled. "Carter couldn't find his way out of a paper bag with a GPS device!"

"You forget who's in charge! I've been getting too many disturbing reports about your activities here. It's not just the Galt incident."

"What else could it be?"

"There's the way you mis treated the Winston family, making it look like they were going into wit pro then returning them to their home. I understand that Mrs. Winston was killed shortly after their release."

Stahl tossed her head, shaking off the memory of Opie's confrontation with her in the parking lot with his knowledge that she'd caused Donna's murder. "They refused to enter wit pro; I had no choice but to let them go."

"After three days?" Sullins intoned incredulously. "Then there's the fight you instigated between Clay Morrow and Jax Teller at the SJCCF. Reports indicate you played one against the other, then stood and watched them fight in their cell, looking very satisfied with yourself."

Sullins held up a hand, cutting off Stahl's protest to continue, "I'm also not pleased with the way you changed the agreement with Filip Telford."

"I changed that agreement for our benefit! What Chibs Telford wanted - "

"Considering the information he could've given us on the IRA, his requests were reasonable!" Sullins interjected coldly. "Be glad you still have a job, Stahl. You're dismissed!"

"I'm supposed to interview Tara Knowles today about the events at Jackson Teller's house!" she protested angrily.

"Though it's against my better judgment, you'll be allowed to sit in as a courtesy. Don't push me any further, Stahl, or I'll find a way to suspend you. Get out of my sight!"

She glared at Sullins another moment before stalking from the interview room of CPD, brushing past an amused Chief Unser. Her partner – both on and off duty – followed behind her. They both strode out the front door without a word or a backward glance.

'I'd have loved to have been a fly on that wall!' Unser grinned. He felt a small amount of satisfaction in the knowledge that Stahl had been demoted.

It rankled with him that the Feds had refused to re – instate the Amber Alert. The first thing he'd done when he returned to Charming was to contact CHP for any help or information that might've been supplied before the alert was canceled.

Officer Candy Eglee walked up to the chief, carrying a print out. "Here's the info from CHP you asked for. It's not promising."

Unser glanced at the few lines of type on the page. "That's an understatement," he murmured, balling the paper in his fist.

June's first day at St. Thomas had been busier than she'd anticipated. The department she'd been assigned to fix was in a shambles. 'It's gonna take some time to get things straightened out.'

She'd also had the inevitable run in with Margaret Murphy, who wasn't happy at having an 'outsider' brought in to fix the problem.

"It's like she's takin' my presence here personally! She's not even responsible for the area I'm handlin'!" she complained over the phone to Cat.

"I warned y'all that she's protective about the joint, darlin'. Be glad y'all escaped intact!"

"She's like a pit bull!" June scoffed. "Anyway, chick, I'm not gonna be able to get away for awhile yet. I'm up to my ass in alligators."

Cat frowned at the clock. The after school rush was just beginning at the coffeehouse, and it sounded like June wouldn't be able to get away until well into the evening.

"Not your fault. That's the reason you're here in the first place. I'll find a way to do the test drive, even if Black Beauty has to sit on the lot for a couple of days."

"Just be careful, chick. I don't need to be on Alex's bad side if anything goes wrong."

"Don't worry, kittenface, I'll behave!" Cat laughed.

"Don't worry, the woman says! Whenever you say don't worry, I worry! See y'all later!"

Cat secured the house and walked across the back yard into the back of the coffeehouse. She could hear the rumble of voices from the front of the building, a clear indication that the after school crowd had descended. She peeked into the front area to find Pete, Christopher, and JR busily filling orders.

'At least no one's waitin' long, but there's no way I can take Pete away from here to go after Black Beauty!'

Several of the customers noticed her framed in the doorway to the back area and called out greetings to her. She wandered on into the front end, chatting with the regulars, giving them her complete attention.

She answered questions about the wreck and her injuries, and their fears about Abel's kidnapping.

"The man who took Abel was extremely upset, he won't harm the child, he's a parent himself. In fact, he'd just lost his child," she assured them.

"Yeah," one youngster piped up. "There's talk that Gemma Morrow caused the man to kidnap her grandson. How weird is that?"

"It's very weird," Cat admitted. "Things aren't always as they seem on the surface. I'm sure you've all run into situations like that, where things appear one way, and once you really look at it, they're different."

The assembled teens nodded thoughtfully, weighing Cat's words against their daily lives. She then skillfully re – directed their attention by pulling up pictures of the Black Beauty for them to admire.

Eventually, she was able to make her way to the back, satisfied that she'd given the children something to think about in comparison to what they'd heard on the news – and possibly from their parents.

'Can't put out all the fires, but the more support for the club right now, the better.' She decided not to ask Pete to go with her to Lodi and called Lyla's

cell phone from the office.

"Hey, it's Cat," she responded to Lyla's pleasant greeting.

"Hi. How are you?"

"I'm hangin' in there. Wanted to ask a favor of you."

"Sure."

"Would you be available for a quick trip to Lodi? There's a car I'm thinkin' of buyin' to replace the MF6, and I made an appointment to test drive it today. Promised Tig I'd take one of my employees with me, but we're swamped."

"Wished you'd called a little earlier; I've got the kids; Opie's out on club business of some sort. He's supposed to be back in time for Sack's viewing."

"They can come along; maybe gettin' out of Charmin' for awhile would be good for 'em, even if it's just to Lodi," Cat replied.

"Then I'd love to go!" Lyla replied warmly. "How about I meet you at your house? That way, the less driving you have to do, the better."

"Hmm. Sounds like Tig's been spreadin' the word about keepin' me outta mischief!" Cat replied with a small laugh. "Sure."

"I'll never tell!" Lyla giggled. "I'll see you in a little bit!"

Tig stood outside in the motel parking lot with the riders from SAMROR, talking about the latest intel on the warrant on Gemma.

"Our intel officer just discovered that the APB's gone state wide and the bounty on Gemma's been increased to $10,000," Old Wolf explained.

"That means we'll have to be that much more careful; relocate at night," Tig observed.

While the men were outside plotting strategy, Gemma decided to give herself a bit of a manicure. She'd spread a section of the local paper on her lap to catch the clippings. She shook the clippings into the middle fold of the paper, making it possible for her to discard the clippings without getting them all over the floor.

She was about to fold the paper and put it aside when a name and picture caught her eye. The item was an obituary.

At first, Gemma couldn't believe what she was reading. She held the page higher and read the item again. Her stomach sank. 'He needs me. I have to go to him.'

She quickly packed her few belongings in the duffel, pulled a cap down low over her brow and took a look outside. Tig was sitting on his bike with his back to her, the SAMROR boys were leaning against a silver pick up truck.

She ventured outside, walking straight for the pick up truck. Tig intercepted her and she screamed at him for touching her. He backed off immediately, his expression filled with concern. 'What's gotten into her all of a sudden? Did she find out about Abel?'

She sighed and pulled the newspaper out of the pocket of her bag, unfolded it, and held it out in to Tig.

He cautiously sidled near enough to look over the page. He read the obit, relieved that the news wasn't about Abel while waves of sympathy washed over him. He explained to her about the increased bounty, adding that it wasn't safe for her on the streets. "Let me have SAMROR check this out, make sure it's a valid story, sweetheart," he added gently.

"What do ya mean by that?" she snapped.

"I wouldn't put it past Stahl to plant that story in order to lure you out of hidin'."

Gemma glared at him before recalling how easily Stahl had gotten the better of her in Galt. "A'right. I'll wait. Just don't take too long!"

She returned to her motel room and slammed the door shut. Tig turned back to Old Wolf and explained the situation.

"I'll get our intel officer on it."

Cat glanced in the rear view of the HHR and grinned. Kenny and Ellie Winston and Piper were Ear buds were in their ears to keep the competing sounds from driving the adults in the front seat nuts.

"I remember takin' road trips with the parents, and havin' to listen to whatever the driver wanted to listen to. Daddy always had WGN Chicago on the radio during family trips," Cat mused.

"Kids do have it easy on long – or short – trips," Lyla agreed. "Most minivans and SUVs have those video players and things just for the kids! I wasn't quite so lucky, but had a Walkman to listen to."

"Consider yourself lucky! I didn't even have that. Transistor radios didn't pick up well in cars, and we didn't have portable tape players until I was in my teens," Cat replied. "I read a lot back then, or slept."

"I'm glad you invited me along, Cat. Not just because you're keeping your promise to Tig," Lyla announced. "I've been wanting to tell you something for awhile, and just haven't had the courage."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was pissed at you for forcing my friend KD to leave. She told me you'd agreed not to press charges against her if she left town, never to return."

Cat glanced at the young mother. "Is that what she told you?"

Lyla nodded. "Don't get me wrong, she and the twins were wrong for vandalizing your bike. You had every right to have them charged." She glanced out the passenger door window for a moment before adding, "Why did you make them leave town?"

"It wasn't quite like that, Lyla. I could've pressed charges, and they might've gotten a fine, or community service. They might've also wanted revenge for bein' held accountable. I gave 'em a choice – leave town and pay for the damages, or face charges not only for the vandalism, but for harassment. They made their choice, I just gave them options."

"Harassment?" Lyla inquired, her eyes round with surprise. "What do you mean?"

Cat briefly explained the confrontation that occurred at the funeral home the day of LuAnn's funeral and how KD and the twins had skillfully managed not to let anyone else witness their behavior.

"I knew KD had a thing for Tig. It was up to him whether he followed up on it. She made a play for him the day Otto was released in my custody, and he turned her down," Cat continued.

Lyla sighed. "That sounds a lot like KD. She once made life Hell for another actress who won a part she wanted. She made no secret of it that she wanted Tig and was going to get him."

Cat wrinkled her nose. "Tig didn't help matters when he sent her mixed signals at Bobby's party, and again at the wrap party. He was drunk when he upended her on the floor and said 'I love you,' to make up for it. He just said the first thing that came to mind. She obviously confused it for something more long term."

"And you don't get upset by Tig talking like that to other women?" Lyla asked.

"I could if I let it bother me, but that would make us both unhappy. It's part of his nature to flirt like that."

"Flirt?" Lyla snorted a laugh.

Cat grinned wryly. "For lack of a better term. I consider his behavior like a sultan in a harem. I'm the bas kadin – the top woman – in his life. He might give the others his dick and some attention, but he always comes back to me. I share his heart, mind, body, and soul."

"Was it hard for you to come to that conclusion?"

Cat shook her head. "I had a few men in my life before Bill. He was reliable, never strayed at all. But a couple of the guys weren't; one was from another country where they had multiple wives, so I adopted that harem mind set as a way to emotionally survive. As long as they don't try to take over, I can deal with his sexual adventures."

"And when they do try to take over?"

"If I believe they're barkin' up the wrong tree and Tig has no interest in them long term, I know how to take care of 'em. But if I thought Tig really wanted to be with that other woman, I'd step outta the way. I'll fight for what's mine, but I'm not gonna keep a man around who doesn't wanna be with me."

"KD definitely thought she was entitled to Tig, and definitely saw you as an obstacle," Lyla mused. "She really believed he wanted a permanent relationship with her, even when he made it clear to her that he wasn't interested the night of LuAnn's funeral."

"Unfortunately, some people – men and women – misunderstand words and gestures. They see more to it than it is, and they get their feelings hurt. Malicious people will deliberately send the wrong signals in order to cause hurt. Tig wasn't doin' it deliberately or maliciously. He was just bein' himself."

"But if KD had stayed in town, you felt you'd be constantly having to watch your back, didn't you?"

"And I just didn't wanna have to contend with that," Cat acknowledged. "KD needed a chance to start over; she wouldn't be able to do that around Tig. I gave her that opportunity."

Lyla turned to check on the kids, then looked out the passenger window again. "KD was pretty resigned to leaving and starting over again. I don't know if I could be as forgiving as you."

Cat grinned wickedly, glancing at Lyla before turning her attention back to the road. "Forgivin' my ass! It's called self – preservation, my dear!"

"Sounds a little more to me like you were getting rid of the competition!" Lyla replied with a tentative smile.

"I resemble that remark!"

The SAMCRO men were sprawled all over the clubhouse, trying to relax after an adventurous afternoon that had brought them no closer to finding Abel.

They'd met with the provider of false IDs that the One – Niners had located, learning that Cameron Hayes had adopted a new identity, Timothy O'Donnell of Belfast. No child's identification was made. 'Mr. Magoo', as Clay nicknamed the man, indicated Hayes had no child with him when they'd met in Chinatown.

Juice indicated that there was a boat dock on Alice Street, not far from Chinatown. He called Unser to see if he could get any information on Hayes' boat at that marina.

Unser called Juice back with the information that Hayes' boat was indeed docked at that marina, and gave him the slip number, 39.

The Sons had gone out to the marina to check the boat. Clay hoped that the boat's presence in the slip might mean that Hayes was still in the area as well.

Jax didn't share that hope. 'I waited too long to start looking. If Hayes was smart - and no one works for Jimmy O and lives as long as Hayes has without bein' smart – he'd have ditched the boat and gotten out of town some other way.'

Hayes boat was found in the slip, but there was no sign of Hayes or Abel. The boat appeared to have been abandoned. Chibs and Bobby boarded the boat with their guns drawn; it was empty.

Jax found Abel's light blue Reaper beanie laying in a pile of nets and other discarded items from Hayes' boat. Finding the cap ripped the wound in his heart wide open.

Bobby made some discreet inquiries at the marina office, learning that the rental for the slip had been paid in cash. The office staff hadn't seen the boat's driver/owner since he'd paid the bill.

As the Sons were preparing to render the boat useless, a pair of young black men carrying a red suitcase entered the marina. Normally, their presence would have gone unnoticed, except that they stared at the Sons and treaded water at the top of the ramp.

Happy immediately zeroed in on their behavior. He sensed their nervousness and advised his brothers to be ready. The two black youths suddenly turned tail and ran from the ramp, dropping the red suitcase.

Happy and the others gave chase, while Clay watched Jax shoot a clip full of holes in the boat's waterline, rendering it useless.

'Hope the damn thing sinks like a stone," Clay thought as he and Jax ran to the ramp to their bikes.

The two blacks ran to a late 70's model Mercury that had seen better days. Happy and the others ran to their bikes, strapped on their helmets, and prepared to give chase.

The Mercury roared onto the street at a high rate of speed, a pack of Harleys following behind it. The passenger in the Mercury drew his gun, watching behind the car as they ran a stop sign, careening into the back end of a passing newer model car.

The driver mashed the accelerator, struggling to keep the large Mercury under control while gaining distance from the persuing motorcycle club.

The car's passenger leaned out his window, firing shots at the pursuing motorcycles. Bobby returned fire, shattering the car's back window glass.

The Mercury rammed through a wire gate, but the motorcycle club didn't stop, continuing their pursuit. Opie's pants leg got caught on some of the tangled wire, causing him to stop. He waved the others on, but Jax stopped long enough to disentangle the wire from his pants while the rest of the Sons gave chase.

"Call the clubhouse, tell 'em we're comin' in hot and they need to be ready to protect us!" The driver cried. "These whiteys want a war, we'll give 'em one!"

His passenger pulled out his cell and called the clubhouse, sounding the alarm. 'Our brothers will have our backs! Those crackers will wish they'd never crossed us!'

The Mercury careened around another corner and pulled into a dirt driveway. The yard was overgrown with high weeds and grass. Their brothers poured out of the house, guns drawn and ready. One of the gang tossed a shot gun to the Mercury's driver.

Clay, along with the other Sons parked their Harleys and started to dismount, while the black gang hollered for them to put their hardware away. Bobby found himself staring down the barrel of the car passenger's gun, the owner remarking that he had the man's attention.

Opie and Jax came roaring up on the scene, while Clay explained to the Mercury's driver, presumably the leader, why they were at the marina and had given chase.

Jax threw caution to the wind and approached the Mercury driver, softly stating that the owner of the boat had taken his infant son.

'They don't want any part of our action. It's the kid they're interested in,' the leader thought quickly, sizing up the situation in a heart beat. 'My kid's the same age as Blondie's. If it were my kid, I'd be moving Heaven and Earth to find him.'

He gave the signal for his brothers to drop their weapons. They slowly complied, and the leader related to Jax how the Irishman had sold them the boat, the car, and some AKs for ready cash. That had been three days earlier.

Jax thanked the leader, mounted his bike and left, not knowing or caring at the moment whether the rest of the club got away clean or not.

The rival gang leader allowed the Sons to leave, as he realized SAMCRO was never looking to cut in on their action. They returned to the clubhouse, but Jax wasn't there.

Piney had gone out to the cemetery to make arrangements for Half – Sack's grave, which would be in the military section. He found Jax walking across the lawn towards his parked bike. He offered to help Jax work through things, but in the end, it didn't help bring him any closer to answers.

Cat was pleased with the test drive of the Black Beauty. The power plant was pristine and the car handled well through the test drive.

Ben Stokes kept up a running commentary on the vehicle's attributes throughout the test drive. Cat answered at all the right pauses, but her attention was focused on the engine and the vehicle's performance.

She signed the paperwork for the purchase, writing a check for the down payment. Because she would be paying the car off in full, Stokes agreed to keep the vehicle on the lot until he could deliver it.

"I live in Charming and visited your coffeehouse a number of times, Ms. Marshall. I can bring the vehicle to you and have my wife take me to work the next day, just have to make arrangements with her. We both work here in Lodi and have similar schedules."

"If ya'll wanna bring it by before the coffeehouse closes, I'll be happy to treat you and your wife to a pastry and specialty coffee. And if you leave some business cards with me, I'll try to see if I can steer some business your way."

Stokes grinned with delight. "I'll be sure to do that!" He reached across the desk to shake hands with her.

Before they headed back to Charming, Cat treated Lyla and the kids to a treat at the locally owned ice cream shoppe. "I tend to support the little guy over the chains, guess it's from bein' a small business owner," she explained as they sat under the patio awning.

"I don't mind," Lyla replied. "I kind of like the locally owned places. They seem more friendly than the sterile franchises."

Lyla found herself warming up to the older woman, more so than when the three SAMCRO women had talked together. 'I can't remember the last time I've just been able to behave like a woman! No porn star, no motorcycle club, just being a mom taking the kids for ice cream with a friend!'

She glanced across the table at Cat, who was entertaining the children with a story of her own wild youth. 'When I think of it, KD wasn't really a friend. She was always making catty comments about the other girls; always playin' up to the guys in the club and the actors and the crewmen. She'd never get together just because it was fun.'

Lyla offered to drive the HHR back to Charming to give Cat's eyes a rest. "After all, we don't want Tig worrying himself sick about you; it's the least I can do for showing me and the kids a great afternoon."

Cat gave in gracefully, sliding into the passenger side of the HHR while the kids belted themselves into the back seat.

Lyla slid behind the wheel, looked across the front seat to Cat and smiled warmly, mouthing "Thank you."

Gemma poked her head out the door of her room, relieved to find that Tig wasn't standing guard in the parking lot for the moment. The two riders from SAMROR had their backs turned to her room.

'Best chance, with Tigger not in the lot, I can steal a car and get to Daddy! I've waited as long as I can!' She hurried across the parking lot to the first parked car. It was locked.

'Shit!' She tried the next car, only to be thwarted by another locked door. 'What's a gal gotta do to steal a car?'

The third vehicle, a SUV, was unlocked. She jumped in and withdrew a large pocket knife from her bag, opening the sturdy blade and inserting it in the ignition. She tried to pop the ignition, but couldn't make it work.

'Fine. I'll just do it the old fashioned way!' She bent under the steering wheel and starting working with the wires, hoping to hot wire the vehicle.

'Shit! Can't see what I'm doin'!' She had to stop long enough to fish her reading glasses from her bag, then bent to work on the wires again when her cell phone rang.

'I feel like Batman in that old movie, tryin' to get rid of a bomb and meetin' up with obstacles every time he found a place to dump it!'

She considered ignoring the phone, but didn't want to miss a call from Jax or Clay. As she started to reach for the cell phone, the driver's side door opened and a pair of hands roughly hauled her out of the car, slamming her against the back door.

The SUV owner snarled a question, making the mistake of putting his hands on her. Gemma still held the open pocket knife in her hand and plunged it into his thigh, near his crotch.

The man's scream of agony brought Tig and the SAMROR riders on the run with their knives drawn. Gemma's thrust had rendered the man helpless. He was lying on the ground holding his thigh and screaming.

After ensuring that Gemma was unhurt, Tig sent her back into her room while he and SAMROR handled the SUV owner.

"Do ya have a medic ya can call? We can't chance having an ambulance out here. Too much attention," he barked.

"We do," Old Wolf replied, reaching for his cell phone. The clubhouse was on speed dial, he was barking orders into it within seconds.

"Get some towels from my room," Tig ordered the other rider, known as ArchAngel. "Gotta stop the bleedin'."

ArchAngel scampered across the parking lot and disappeared into Tig's room, returning a few moments later with several clean towels.

"How bad is it?" Old Wolf asked as Tig and Arch Angel applied the towels to the wound, using the injured man's belt to hold them in place.

"I'm not a medic, doesn't look deep. Another inch and she'd have done a Bobbitt on him!" Tig remarked.

"The prospect and our medic's on the way," Old Wolf advised. "Should be here in less than five minutes."

Tig considered them lucky that none of the other few guests at the hotel had checked on the ruckus in the parking lot. 'As it is, this is gonna cost us a lot and not just money!'

The SUV owner continued to writhe on the ground and moan in pain. "I'm gonna have all of you busted!" he wailed. "Especially that bitch!"

'That's not good,' Tig thought, forcing back the urge to finish the job Gemma had started. "Hang on, man. Help's on the way."

"Including the cops?"

"No. No cops," ArchAngel growled. "There's no need for the cops."

The SUV owner stopped writhing and moaning to glare up at the SAMROR rider. "What the fuck do you mean, no cops? I wanna file charges."

"Believe me, you don't wanna do that," ArchAngel growled again in that same tone of voice, towering menacingly over the SUV owner.

The injured man looked from Tig, who still squatted next to him checking the wound, to Arch Angel and Old Wolf. He could tell by the cuts that two of the men were with a motorcycle club, and didn't doubt that the third was a member as well, despite his lack of patches.

'Think, man! Those clubs always have drug and gun money comin' out of their assholes! If they want to keep this hush – hush, make them make it worth your while!'

Tig was watching the man's face, and didn't like the sudden greed that lit the SUV owner's eyes. 'I gotta bad feelin' about this!'

"OK. You obviously don't want the cops here," the SUV owner panted. "I can appreciate that. Fix me up, compensate me appropriately for my pain and suffering, we'll call it even."

'Shit!' Tig winced. 'SAMCRO's coffers are thinnin' out right now, dunno how much we're gonna get from Sack's policy. Bobby's gonna have a fit!'

He glanced at ArchAngel and Old Wolf, who were both looking uncomfortable with the situation. At a nod from Old Wolf, Tig stood up and the trio walked out of earshot of the man.

"We could try to 'persuade' him not to call the cops after he's been patched up," Old Wolf remarked.

"No guarantee he won't go to them if we don't grease the skids," Tig observed. "He's got outta state plates; he'd prolly rat thinkin' we'd not be able to catch him, especially if the damn vehicle's a rental."

"Our intel officer can run the plates, get the registration," ArchAngel offered. "Where ya gonna get money for 'em? It's not comin' outta our treasury!"

Tig glared at ArchAngel, though he knew the man had a right to his feelings. "Get goin' on checkin' out the plate. I'm gonna make a call." He walked away from the SAMROR riders as the medic and prospect rode into the parking lot.

Satisfied the SAMROR riders had the situation under control for the moment, he pulled out the two – way and pressed send. 'Just be there, baby! I need you!'

The two – way buzzed in Cat's pocket as she waved goodbye to Lyla and the kids before entering the house. "Hey, love! Good timin'! I just got back from Lodi.'

"We hit a major SNAFU, baby. Need your help." Alex announced tersely, disregarding her comment.

'I've got a bad feelin' about this! He sounds pretty stressed,' she gripped the two – way tighter. "Talk to me, love. We're clear."

"Obit in the local paper about Gemma's mom; she's determined to be with her dad and won't wait for SAMROR to check whether the story's legit. She knifed a guy while tryin' to boost his car, nearly took off his joint."

"Yeowtch!" Cat whistled in sympathy. "Need me to check out the story?"

"Nah. SAMROR's on it. Should have intel soon. We need cash to buy the guy's silence."

Cat drew a sharp, deep breath, briefly flashing back to the many times Cory would come to her begging for money.

'Oh, shit!' Tig winced at the sound of her slight gasp, his hand going to the bridge of his nose. "I know what you're thinkin' baby. I'm sorry to hafta ask this of ya, but have no choice. Isn't a medical emergency the reason you set up the fund?"

"For all y'all's med needs, yes!" she exclaimed. "I never expected to have to use it to buy someone's silence! That kind of thing can be expensive, love. How badly is the guy hurt?"

She mentally scolded herself over her reaction. 'Hell, this is Alex! It's no different than when y'all tried to raise the bond money!'

"Flesh wound. Needs a few stitches, maybe a tetanus shot. He'll be able to fuck around in no time," Alex assured her.

"Most small claims courts would allow up to five grand for pain and sufferin' for somethin' like that. How ya keepin' his treatment off the radar?"

"Bones from SAMROR is fixin' him up right now."

Cat ran her good hand through her hair. "How do I get it to all y'all?"

"Get the cash to Bobby, have him wire it. He's got the name I'm usin' for just that kind of thing. Can you transfer money from the account without arousing Stahl's suspicion?"

She thought for a moment. "Dunno, love. Given the circumstances, if I make a major withdrawal like that - - wait a minute!" She fell silent, checking the clock and making some rapid figures in her head.

Alex endured the silence for a few moments, then growled. "Cat? Baby? What's goin' on?"

"Sorry, I was doin' some thinkin'. How soon do y'all need the money, love?"

"Right now would be good."

"OK. I can do this faster by cuttin' out the middle man. Whose name do I have the money sent to?"

'I was hopin' you'd never have to know,' Alex winced, his shoulders slumping. He looked back at the injured man and smiled as an inspiration came to mind. "Lemme call ya back with that, baby."

He hung up and stalked back to the spot where Bones was stitching up the injured man's leg. "What's your name?" Tig growled.

"What's it to ya?" the SUV owner snarled back.

"Lissen, ya want money, you're gonna get money. It's bein' wired here. I'm gonna ask one more time. What's your name?"

The SUV owner considered Tig's question. "How much?"

ArchAngel squatted down so that his fearsome countenance was right up in the SUV owner's face. "I would suggest you take whatever is sent and be done with it," he stated coldly. ArchAngel's voice indicated he would gladly finish the job Gemma had started. "The man's asked twice. Don't make him ask a third time."

"T-tony. Tony DiCarlo." The SUV owner stuttered.

"Spell it out," Tig ordered.

DiCarlo fumbled his wallet from his back pocket and handed it over with shaking hands. "It's on my driver's license."

"Take it out!" Tig snarled.

DiCarlo removed his driver's license while Tig pulled his gloves on. He accepted the driver's license and walked away, keying the two – way.

While Alex was getting the name for her, Cat used her cell phone to call her financial advisor in Indiana.

"You're just in time, Cat," Alan stated when the call was put through to him. "It's almost closing time."

"I know. Got an emergency and need five grand transferred via wire to Rogue River, OR. Can you do that?"

"You've got that much and more in interest right now. I was going to reinvest it. It's urgent?"

"Yes. Please start the process, and take how whatever the fees are as well. I'll have the name and the where for you to send it to in just a moment."

The two – way buzzed in her other hand. "That's the info, hold on, Alan." She opened the two – way. "Talk to me, love."

Alex tersely gave her the name and the location she needed.

"Stand by, love." She picked up the cell phone and relayed the information to her financial advisor.

"OK, Cat. The transfer is on its' way."

She sighed with relief. "Thanks, Alan. I owe ya big time for not askin' questions."

"Something tells me the less I know, the better off I am," he replied before ringing off.

Cat turned off the cell and picked up the two – way. "The money's on it's way, love."

"From where?" Alex gripped the two – way tightly, wishing it was her body he was holding to him at the moment.

"My accounts back in Indiana, love. Far off the Feds' radar. Won't be reported because it's less than 10 grand, and goin' from me directly to the guy; nothin' to tie it to SAMCRO. All he has to do is pick up the transfer at Western Union."

Alex closed his eyes and sighed with relief. "Thanks, baby. You always come through for me. I owe ya big time."

She smiled, feeling her heart race at his words. She could tell he approved and it warmed her from top to bottom. "I'll add it to your bill. Hey, do me a favor?"

"What's that, baby?"

"Keep the sharp, pointy objects away from Gemma for awhile," she replied softly.

"You are truly evil, woman!" he laughed. He could see that impish grin of hers in his mind and wished again she was standing in front of him so he could show her just how much he appreciated her support. He cleared his throat and growled, "I'll expect a call from you when you're home from the wake, we'll talk about the PT then. No arguments!"

"You're the boss!" she quipped before turning off the two – way on him.

'Wish you'd realize that more often!' Tig muttered as he shut off his own two – way.

Tig related the news to the SAMROR men. Bones and ArchAngel would escort DiCarlo, whose wound had been stitched and bandaged, to get the money at the Western Union store.

Tig made a show of taking a picture of the SUV's license plate, and then of the driver's license with the prospect's camera phone before returning DiCarlo's ID to him.

"We have your plates, and we have your address. If any cops get wind of this, we'll know who told them and come lookin' for ya. Understand?"

DiCarlo's head bobbed up and down, sweat pouring down his face. Tig tossed the ID onto DiCarlo's chest and walked to Gemma's room. He had no doubt that the SAMROR riders would re – enforce the message he'd just given DiCarlo. 'Now I gotta deal with Gemma!'

Though their relationship hadn't been going on very long, Agent Tyler knew better than to try to talk to Stahl when she was in a fury such as she was in at the moment. She watched Stahl's fingers tightly grip the steering wheel as if she wished she were strangling someone.

'Whatever Sullins said to her in there really pissed her off. I'm almost afraid of her when she's in this kind of mood.'

Stahl pulled the car to an abrupt stop in front of the house, slamming the gear shift into park so hard that Tyler feared it would break. Stahl got out of the driver's side and slammed the door shut, stalking to the front door and keying the lock.

Tyler quickly followed behind her, still not speaking about her lover's interview with Sullins until they reached the safety of the interior of the house. Tyler walked up behind her lover and laid a hand on her shoulder. "What happened in there, June? Are you transferred? Fired?"

Stahl stood with her back turned to Tyler, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. She took a deep breath and struggled for control before turning to lay her hands on Tyler's shoulders.

"I still have my job and haven't been transferred, baby. I've been demoted and I'm off the IRA case."

'Good! If she gets her mind off the IRA and SAMCRO, she might be more enjoyable to be around!' Tyler closed her eyes in sympathy as well to hide the gleam of hope that had to be showing. "I'm sorry, June."

"Don't be. Not your fault. That asshole Sullins doesn't realize what I'm dealing with here! Sometimes you have to bend the rules to get results!"

'I don't like the sound of that!' Tyler didn't agree with Stahl's methods, but knew better than to openly disagree with her. "What are you going to do?"

"I've got a few ideas," she replied.

"Such as?"

"For one, Tig Trager's old lady recently applied for a concession license with the prison in Stockton. I'm going to get that pushed through."

"Why? That kind of thing normally takes months!"

Stahl looked at her and smiled indulgently. "She's a friend to Otto Delaney. By making it possible for her to obtain that concession, she'll have contact with him and other members of the Sons in prison. I can use that."

"Otto is in solitary for killing that LOAN member that attacked and blinded him! He's likely to go to death row!" Tyler protested.

"Not right away," Stahl replied knowingly. "As far as my demotion, I'm going to act like I'm playing by Sullins' rules. In reality, I'll – we'll - do everything we can to get Gemma Morrow in custody and get the goods on the IRA and SAMCRO!" Stahl's eyes glowed with a maniacal gleam.

'She's been obsessed about getting SAMCRO behind bars on federal charges ever since they bonded out! I don't dare say anything to Sullins or anyone else about it; they'd want to know how I know. I'll just have to keep an eye on her and hope she doesn't do more to jeopardize her career and mine!'

Tig stormed through the unlocked door into Gemma's room without knocking. Gemma sat in the desk chair, still in her cap and jacket with the bag slung over her shoulder. She didn't look at all apologetic for the ruckus she'd caused.

"I got tired of waiting to find out if the story is legit. It has to be. I feel it in my heart!" Gemma explained, adding that she was going and the only way he could stop her was to come with her.

'I understand how she feels about her father; but the possibility of her gettin' caught isn't worth the risk!' Tig leaned against the bureau, gazing at Gemma in sympathy, while relating what had to be done to ensure DiCarlo's silence.

"SAMROR's intel officer had just come through while you were tryin' to heist the SUV. The story's legit. I'm sorry. For now, there's nothing you can do except stay here where you're safe."

He held up a hand to cut off her protest. "I'm not sayin' we're not goin' at all! Even though the story's legit, there's no guarantee the Feds won't be watchin' for you to show up. We'll go tonight. Less chance that you'll be noticed and caught. Can you at least agree to that?"

Gemma glared at him for a few minutes. 'I don't like it! I don't want him being alone any longer than he has to be, but I owe Tig for the clusterfuck.' She sighed and reluctantly nodded her head.

Tig rose from the bed, heading for the door.

"Wait, Tigger!"

He turned and gazed inquiringly at her.

"I need to explain what happened out there, why I went a little nuts."

"It's not important," Tig muttered.

"It is important. We're gonna be spendin' a lot of time together, we've gotta get over this - this problem between us," she insisted.

"What the Hell are you talkin' about?"

Gemma glared at him. "C'mon, Tigger! You can't deny havin' me bitch ride last night wasn't difficult for ya! You were tense the entire time!"

"How would you know? You held onto the back of the bike!" He snapped.

"Because you never relaxed once during the entire ride!" Gemma retorted. "You're been tense around me whenever we're alone. It's as if you're afraid we'll lose control again."

Tig shifted uncomfortably. "Didn't we talk about this at the hospital? Why bring it up again?"

Gemma moved slowly towards him, as if coming upon a wounded animal that might attack without warning. "Because you're still feeling weird around me -"

He started to protest but she held her hand in the air, stopping his protest before he could get it started.

"-don't deny it, Tigger! I held on to the back of the bike out of consideration for your feelings!"

Tig shrugged. "OK, if we're gonna have this talk, tell me what's goin' with ya."

Gemma stood still, her lips moving but words not coming out of her mouth for a few moments. Tig waited patiently until she finally explained, "I still have flashbacks, Tig. When you reached out to me, I didn't see you; but those masked men reaching for me instead. Same when that SUV owner grabbed me."

Tig frowned thoughtfully. "But you and Clay -"

"That has nothin' to do with it, honey. Nor does what we nearly did. There's just certain things - gestures, words, smells – trigger those memories when I least expect them."

'Sounds like that PTSS thing of Cat's,' he nodded in understanding. He looked at Gemma's hand laying on his arm, then tentatively covered it with his. This time, she didn't shy away from him.

"I didn't want you wonderin' if I was goin' to try somethin' again, Gemma. Don't take this the wrong way, but havin' sex with ya was like fuckin' my sister – if I had one."

Gemma snorted back a laugh.

"A'right. I have a rep for enjoyin' weird sex!" he grinned ruefully. "I ain't gonna apologize for it. But I'm not that weird. Much as I love you, I don't wanna fuck ya."

"The feeling is mutual, Tigger," she replied with a smile. "I love you, too, but have no interest in fuckin' ya."

She embraced him, and after a moment's hesitation, he returned it. It felt like old times; the tension and uncertainty they had felt as a result of the incident had disappeared.

They released each other at the same moment. "I'm glad we had this little talk, Tig."

"Yeah, so am I. Be ready to leave for your dad's when it gets dark, OK?"

"OK."

He walked out of the room and strode across the parking lot to Old Wolf to explain the change in plans.

While his brothers went to their rooms and homes to clean up for Sack's wake, Jax rode back to his house. His heart sank to find Tara's Olds gone from the house. 'I know it's the right thing, but some part of me hoped she wouldn't leave.' It didn't occur to him that she might be at work.

He walked aimlessly through the house to the kitchen, where he found the pad where Bobby had written Gemma's throwaway cell number. 'Not smart to leave this out where anyone can find it! If Stahl had gotten a locksmith to let her in here, Mom would be toast!'

He picked up the notepad and carried it around with him until he came to the nursery and found the devastation left by Hurricane Tara. 'She was pissed a'right. Knew she would be. Didn't think she'd be that pissed.'

Jax sat on the edge of the dresser, lit a cigarette and decided to call his mom. He needed to hear her voice. With everything in his life going to Hell, he needed to turn to her, even though she was miles away. 'It'll help to talk to her, even if I can't tell her what's goin' on with Abel and Tara.'

He dialed the number and waited while it rang on the other end. 'Throwaways don't have voice mail, hope she'll pick up.' After an interminable number of rings, Jax pressed the 'end' button, terminating the call.

He sighed and finished his cigarette before beginning the job of cleaning up the mess in the nursery. He didn't allow himself to think about anything – not Abel, his mother, or Tara. He mechanically went about picking up the strewn items. 'The shelf unit is a total. No way it can be fixed. The dresser's OK. Most of the stuff can be stored in the drawers, I guess.'

He heard the front door open and close, but didn't care to see who it was. 'Might be Clay, or anyone. Could even be Stahl. Hope it is the bitch, I'd like to take a piece outta her!' He waited tensely as he worked until Tara crossed the threshold and began to help clean up.

While he was relieved that she'd returned, Jax tried again to send her away for her own good. Tara refused. 'Damn women! They always do the opposite of what ya tell 'em to do!'

Tara knelt on the floor, holding her hands out in front of her instead of picking up the baby items she'd tossed about earlier. Hands that had just a few minutes earlier had been encased in rubber gloves in the OR.

'I was OK until trying to operate on that child. That's when everything hit me. It didn't matter whether Stahl harassed me after I gave my statement. It was seeing that small, helpless child on the table that was my undoing!'

She quietly explained to Jax why she wasn't going to run from him – from their relationship – any more. 'He can make all the excuses, tell all the lies he wants. He's trying to protect me from this life, but I'm already hip deep in it! The point of no return was when he killed Agent Kohn. There's no going back now.'

Jax didn't want to listen to her voice of reason. Everything she said made sense, but also went against his need to protect her. Her quiet resolution eventually got to him, and he gave in to her, allowing her to enter his embrace.

'Ah, Hell! I can't be alone right now. I need her, damn it! Except Clay, she's all I have left.'

The street leading to Dubrowski's Funeral Home was lined with parked Harleys. Their owners milled around outside the building and along the street leading from the parking lot.

'They're makin' it difficult to navigate! Those cuts blend too well into the dark!' Cat grumbled as she steered the rental car carefully down the street, aided by Chuckie's eagle eyes.

"You're nearly clear, Miss Cat. The entrance to the parking lot is to the left," Chuckie offered.

"God damn them to hell!"

"Who?"

She pointed at the news van parked at the corner. A reporter and a camera operator were standing on the street across from the funeral home. "Fuckin' news crew!"

"It's only one, Miss Cat."

"Where there's one, there's bound to be more!" she retorted. "Hasn't this town gone through enough without it bein' all over the boob tube?"

Chuckie glanced at the media truck. "I think it's all right, Miss Cat. Isn't Channel 2 the station with the reporter you took a liking to?"

She nodded. "If they sent Windover, then it might be handled with a bit of respect. I can't tell who the reporter is from here."

"Tall, dark – haired, has a goatee and glasses."

Cat smiled slightly and relaxed. "That's Windover. He'll play it dignified, unlike some of those fucktards."

Cat piloted her rental vehicle carefully into the parking lot. She sighed with relief when she found a space without hurting the car or a person.

"Too bad the Sons won't put reflective tape on their cuts. That would make it easier for you to see 'em in the dark."

"It would, but I wouldn't suggest that if I were you, my friend," Cat replied, rubbing the back of her neck. The drive had made her tense and her muscles ached.

She glared at the rental as she got out of it, slamming the door behind her. "I'd rather have ridden Blackie II!"

"I don't think Tig would like that," Chuckie replied. "The car isn't that bad!"

"I'd rather be on shanksmare than be forced to drive a Shabby Lay!" she snarled, giving him 'the look'. "And I wouldn't be makin' comments about what Tig would like right now if I were you. I never thought you would threaten to rat me out!"

Chuckie grinned, unfazed by her fierce growl and angry glare. "Just doing what Tig asked; looking out for your welfare. You know you shouldn't try to ride with one bandaged eye! It would've been difficult for me to watch the road while sitting behind you."

"Yeah, y'all were a big help tonight," she admitted grudgingly. She locked the Chevy and strode to the front door of the funeral home, Chuckie following closely behind her.

Cat spotted Clay, Opie, Bobby, and Chibs standing in front of the main entrance. Another man wearing a cut and an out of town patch was standing next to Clay. All of them were talking intently.

"Shit! What's that fucktard doin' here!"

"Who?"

"The light haired asshole sportin' the Sergeant At Arms and Tacoma patches. Kozik." She spat on the ground as if speaking his name was a curse.

"I take it you don't like him?"

"Tig's not a fan of his, which is one of the reasons I don't like him."

"What's the other?"

"That asshole paid a none too friendly visit to me at the hospital," she explained. "He hoped to scare me out of Tig's life usin' revisionist history. It obviously didn't work."

"I accept that." Chuckie dropped back a couple of paces. 'I hope this Kozik fella doesn't say or do something he shouldn't and set her off!'

Cat continued toward the entrance, moving quietly along the shadows leading to the front entrance so the men wouldn't notice her approach. 'I hope I can get close enough to hear what that fucktard's talkin' about without 'em seein' me! Tig will wanna know what he's up to.'

Kozik had been growing dissatisfied with the Tacoma chapter for some time before SAMCRO's confrontation with LOAN. He was all for adding to a charter's ranks, but he felt Tacoma was getting so large that it was unmanageable.

'It's gettin' to the point where Church feels like a sardine can. Nothin' ever gets accomplished from all the arguin'. Can't recall the last time anything was voted in without a lot of wheelin' and dealin'!'

Kozik had been forced to transfer from the mother charter eight years earlier, following Missy's demise. That event had destroyed what small amount of trust existed between himself and Tig following his friend's death on I - 5.

Tig was Clay's best friend and bodyguard, and had become Sgt at Arms of the mother charter. Kozik wasn't a SAMCRO officer, so when it became evident that someone had to transfer, Kozik was the only choice. He'd moved back home to Tacoma and the charter there, eventually becoming Sgt. at Arms.

'I've never enjoyed the close friendship and support of SAMTAC's prez like Tig has with Clay. We've clashed more often than we've agreed on anything pertaining to the club.'

When the call had gone out from SAMCRO for help flushing out LOAN, Kozik had jumped at the chance to return to Charming. At first, he'd looked forward to making Tig's life miserable. Once he'd arrived at the SAMCRO clubhouse, he immediately felt at home, as if he'd never left. That was when he began contemplating returning on a permanent basis.

"I shouldn't have allowed you to go to Charming!" SAMTAC's prez had railed angrily after the charter had returned to their clubhouse following Zobelle's flight from Charming.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about?" Kozik inquired hotly.

"I knew you had a problem with Tig, but counted on you to be adult enough to put your issues behind you! You went and injured his old lady while she was still in the hospital and picked a fight with Tig before the standoff at Timberland! What the fuck is your problem?"

"You and this charter are the problem!" he snarled. "It's too big! You treat it like the Hell's Angels or somethin'! The Sons was never intended to be a large club in any town!"

SAMTAC's prez glared menacingly at his SAA. "There's nothin' wrong with manpower. Makes us strong! No one dares fuck with us!"

"We can't get a damn thing done! Church is standin' room only; we could have infiltrators from the law and not know it!"

"That's your problem! You and the intel officer are responsible for checkin' that kind of shit!"

"It's our problem if you're lettin' the joint get so big that we can't get the intel we need!" Kozik retorted. "We're still workin' on the background checks on the last group of prospects!"

SAMTAC's prez gave Kozik a measuring glare, looking over his SAA. "Maybe you're just not up to what that patch means," he growled, pointing at the 'Sgt at Arms' patch on Kozik's chest.

"I've done everything required of me!" Kozik protested.

"Then why don't I have your support in growing the charter?"

"Because if we're too big, SAMCRO is gonna get uncomfortable, and that's gonna cause us more trouble in the long run." Kozik explained.

SAMTAC's president sank into his chair in the chapel, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke through his nostrils. "Kozik, you've never been happy here. You and I have never seen things eye to eye, and frankly, I don't trust ya anymore. Maybe I'll put it out the vote for a new SAA next church."

"Maybe you won't have to!" Kozik retorted, pushing his chair back and starting toward the door of the chapel.

'Asshole! I'm goin' back to the mother charter. It ain't gonna be easy to change Tig's mind about me after all this time; I'm gonna do everything I can to go back where I belong!'

"Holy shit!" The VP rushed into the chapel, not caring that he was interrupting a heated discussion. "SAMCRO's prospect got killed and the VP's kid is missin'. Word is the Irishman we've been runnin' guns for did both deeds!"

The charters in Oregon and Washington lost no time offering to help recover Abel. Kozik himself avidly watched for any sign of Cameron Hayes. He knew the Irishman would ditch the boat for land based transportation, possibly even traveling through Oregon towards Canada.

'Damn Irishman seems to have vanished from the face of the Earth! Would've really helped grease the skids if I'd been able to rescue the kid from Hayes!' Kozik had returned to Charming on his own to attend Prospect's funeral, and to pave the way for his eventual return to SAMCRO.

He arrived several hours before the wake, in order to go to the library, researching what had happened after Zobelle had left the state and learning of the deaths in Galt and Gemma's fugitive status. He'd also checked the Charming Pawse website and discovered that Tig's old lady was out of the hospital.

A discreet call to Teller – Morrow revealed that Tig was out of town, presumably in Tacoma for a motorcycle and bike show.

Kozik smiled grimly at that disclosure. 'So Tig's off keepin' Gemma from the Feds while his old lady just got outta the hospital? Wonder who's watchin' her? She can't be well enough to be on her own!'

He found Clay standing out in front of the funeral home entrance along with his other men when he arrived for Sack's viewing. He stood beside Clay after receiving the standard 'bro hug double back thump' and expressing his feelings about the Prospect's death before announcing his desire to return, stating Tacoma was getting too big for his comfort. Opie mentioned that there were three hang arounds who would make good prospects, while Happy was wanting to return to the mother charter from the Nomads.

Bobby made his reservations known and that Tig would have the ultimate decision on the matter. Clay assured Kozik it was workable and he'd make it happen, as the mother charter had grown stagnant.

A discreet cough coming from the shrubs near the entrance captured their attention. They looked in the direction where the cough had originated to see Cat and Chuckie approaching them.

'She doesn't look exactly pleased to see me. Wait 'til she finds out I'm returnin' for good,' Kozik mused.

'That son of a bitch! He wants to transfer back to SAMCRO? It'll be a cold day in Hell before that wanker patches in!' Cat thought angrily.

Her hands balled into fists when she heard Kozik state his desire to transfer. 'Bless ya, Bobby. At least someone's watchin' out for Alex! Can't believe Clay's actually considerin' lettin' that ass wipe share a patch with Alex. This is definitely intel he needs to know!'

Chuckie let out a loud cough, an obvious attempt on his part to alert the SAMCRO men to their presence. Cat glared at him, but the damage was already done; the men clammed up.

Cat schooled her expression so the men wouldn't know she'd overheard most of the conversation and knew Kozik wanted to return to SAMCRO as she moved up the steps. She raised her good hand in greeting. "Hey, guys," she smiled warmly at the SAMCRO men, then nodded coldly at Kozik.

"Hey, Cat. How ya feelin'?" Clay inquired. He knew she wasn't pleased to see Kozik. 'She's gonna have to get used to it. We need his experience, regardless of Tig's issues with him.'

"Still a little sore, but I wasn't about to miss Kip's viewin'. I'll be drivin' tomorrow, too."

"Drivin' is safer fer ye ennyway, Lady Cat," Chibs replied. "At least until ye get tha bandage offen yer eye."

"You really shouldn't be driving, though," Bobby advised.

Cat glared at them. "Well, Tig's not here; that dratted Shabby Lay ain't set up for Chuckie to operate with only two fingers, and I sure as Hell didn't see any of y'all knockin' down my door offerin' to give me a ride!" Her anger at Kozik made her words sharper than she intended.

'Whew! She's ballsy to talk back to 'em like that!' Kozik noted. 'She did the same thing to me. Tig needs to school her in the proper way to treat men like us. Can't wait to see Clay put her in her place!'

The Sons glanced sheepishly at each other. "You're right, Cat. Guess we assumed you'd ask one of your employees to drive ya. We've had other things on our minds," Clay replied gruffly.

"I'm sorry, too," she sighed. "I know y'all are busier than a one – legged man in an ass kickin' contest."

"We're all a bit edgy, Lady Cat," Bobby assured her. "It's good that you're here. You were a good friend to the Prospect."

She nodded, unable to respond from the sudden lump that formed in her throat from Bobby's mention of Kip. 'Damn if I'm gonna cry in front of Kozik!'

"Why dinna ye go on enside, Lady Cat?" Chibs added. "There's somethin' there tha' myte make ye feel less sad."

"Short of Kip resurrectin', I dunno if anythin' can make me feel better about this," she replied softly, laying a hand on Chibs' arm as she passed him.

"Ye want comp'ny?"

She shook her head. "Thanks. I'll be OK."

They watched her make her way into the funeral home. Not only were there Sons from out of town charters present, but several members of the military had come to pay their respects to one of their own.

Cat signed the guest book, pocketing the small pamphlet that listed Kip's important dates before moving towards the parlor that held his casket. She was stopped several times as various residents came up to her, seeking assurance that she was OK after leaving the hospital so soon after the wreck.

The men from SAMPOR who'd guarded her made a point of greeting her before she entered the parlor. StoneCoyote, GreyRider, Sleeved Biker, and Slick had returned from Rogue River to attend Sack's viewing and funeral.

"Gemma's fine, Puddy Cat," StoneCoyote assured her quietly. "She doesn't know anything about the baby bein' missin'."

"Tig mentioned you were feelin' responsible for the Amber Alert gettin' canceled," GreyRider added. "Hope you're still not carryin' that burden, darlin'."

"I've got a friend stayin' with me. She's drummed some sense into me. I appreciate your concern, though."

"We're glad to hear that," Sleeved Biker replied. "It's good to see ya outta that hospital."

"Though you shouldn't have checked yerself out so early," StoneCoyote admonished her.

"Sounds like Tig's been doin' quite a bit of talkin' behind my back!" she growled, giving the SAMPOR riders 'the look'.

"Yer his old lady, it's natural for him to be worried about ya," StoneCoyote reminded her.

"I know," she sighed wearily. 'He's got enough on his mind without worryin' about me, is the thing. He's gotta keep his mind on business,' She was touched, however, that Alex cared enough to share his concern with the charter that had befriended her.

A small table near the entrance to the parlor held a plastic box with a sign set against it. Beside the box rested several small white envelopes. The sign read, "Memorial donations may be made to the Boot Campaign or the Sons of Anarchy Emergency Medical Fund."

Tears welled in her eyes. 'Oh, Kip! I'd rather have y'all around!'

Chibs kept an eye on her from a discreet distance. 'Ach! I forgot to warn 'er aboot the donations! Hope it doesna hurt 'er too much!'

Kip's casket was black lacquered wood with SAMCRO lettered on the side and the Reaper on the top. The casket was closed, with Kip's Army portrait placed on it.

There weren't many flowers around the chapel. There was one large bouquet to the right of the casket, and in another corner, standing on a high pedestal, was a crystal vase with a single red rose in it. The rose had a black velvet ribbon tied around the stem.

Chuckie moved away to examine the card accompanying the rose in order to give Cat some privacy. 'Rest well, dear friend. Purrs and whisker kisses, Cat.' His eyes widened with surprise. 'There was one like it in the house the other day, but there was no card with it.'

While Chuckie was examining the rose, Chibs watched as Cat stood in front of the black lacquered casket for a moment with her head bowed, one hand resting on the leather cut lying on the coffin.

Tears streamed down her face at the sight of the three patches, the bottom rocker reading 'California' instead of 'Prospect'. The Grim Reaper and the 'Sons of Anarchy' patch also graced the back of the cut. She knew the significance of those patches.

She turned from the casket, stumbling because she was blinded by tears. Chibs had walked up behind her while she stood in front of the coffin, sensing she'd be affected by the cut. He caught her before she fell and pulled her into an avuncular embrace.

"It's a'right, Lady Cat. We're all gonna miss tha bhoy. Go ahead an' cry, darlin'."

She leaned against him, allowing her tears to flow for a few moments. It wasn't long before she squared her shoulders and stepped away from Chibs. "Thanks, brother," she whispered.

Chibs nodded and offered his arm to escort her out of the room. No one watching dared read anything more into the moment than what it was. Both his body language and hers made that clear to any and all on lookers.

Jax and Tara then entered the parlor, and the club members moved away to allow Tara to say her own private goodbye to Sack.

Knowing that the crush of people was starting to make her claustrophobic, Chibs gestured to the SAMPOR riders to take her outside. 'She needs sum air, bhoys. Too many people aroun', pressin' on 'er space."

"We'll take care of her, Chibs," StoneCoyote assured him, placing her hand in the crook of his arm and escorting her out the front door.

Chuckie joined them as they walked outside, followed by the other SAMPOR men. GreyRider had noticed Kozik's presence and quietly informed his brothers. They kept a watchful eye on the Tacoma SAA while keeping themselves between him and Cat.

"May I ask you a question, Miss Cat?"

"You can always ask, Chuckie. Gettin' an answer might be a different story," she grinned as they stood together outside the funeral home.

"What's the significance of the red rose and black ribbon?"

She quickly explained about her Indiana Gerard Butler fan group and their tradition of taking 'black – ribboned roses' to members when they'd endured a death and grief. "It was a way to show our love and support for each other, and I just continued it here as my way of honoring my friends."

Chuckie's face grew puzzled by her explanation. "Did you have someone die in your family lately?"

It was Cat's turn to look puzzled.

"I saw just such a rose in the house, the night of the chili supper. It was on that table next to the recliner you and Tig occupied. There was no card with it, though."

"Oh, that! Tig had sent it to me in the hospital. It was his way of takin' my gesture and showin' his support and feelin's for me."

"I'm not sure I accept that," Chuckie replied, still puzzled.

"That's OK, darlin'. I do," she assured him, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. She glanced past him and frowned as her eye focused on the opposite side of the street.

Jacob Hale was standing there talking with his brother. Jacob Hale was frowning and staring at SAMCRO, who were walking out of the funeral home, Jax and Tara following close behind them.

'What is that asshole doin' here? Certainly not payin' his respects to Kip!' Her glare became more intense as she watched Jacob Hale with his brother.

She was so intent on watching Jacob Hale that she didn't notice a beige minivan moving slowly down the street. No one else paid attention to it until the side door slid open and gunshots poured from it.

Kozik was shocked that Clay didn't reprimand Tig's old lady for smarting off to him in front of his men. 'Clay's gettin' soft in his old age! Never known him to allow anyone - even Gemma - talk back to him like that.'

He sensed the anger Tig's old lady felt for him radiating off her in waves, despite her warmth for the other men. 'Guess I can't blame her for bein' mad at me after what happened at the hospital. I need to change her opinion of me real fast.'

Kozik watched her enter the funeral home with Chibs following at a discreet distance. He watched the differential way the SAMCRO men had treated her. He was intrigued that the SAMPOR charter greeted her warmly as well.

'Huh. There's been some kinda shift since I was here. The mother charter looks to her as more than Tig's old lady. 'Course, with Gemma on the lam, it's possible they're lookin' to her as their matriarch. Maybe that's why she gets away with her smart mouth. She's also got most of SAMPOR behind her.'

He turned back to Clay and inquired, "Why is Tig outta town with Gemma? Shouldn't he be here with his injured woman?"

"Tig's keepin' Gemma safe from the Feds," Clay growled.

Kozik nodded towards Cat's retreating back. "She's OK with that?" he asked incredulously.

Clay stared at the Tacoma Sergeant at Arms. When he spoke, his voice was full of menace. "Why wouldn't she be OK with it?"

"Most women -"

Bobby leaned forward, staring coldly at Kozik. "Somethin' you need to learn if you expect to have any chance of patchin' back here; Cat is not 'most women'. She understands the club as well as Gemma."

Kozik held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. 'Shit! Good move, numbnuts. You're tryin' to win friends, not piss 'em off. Ya keep underestimating that broad. Gotta quit thinkin' of her as just a piece of ass!'

He followed the men inside, watching Tig's old lady standing before the casket. He could tell she was touched by the club's gesture. 'She obviously knows the meanin' of those patches. At least Tig taught her that much!'

Kozik watched her interaction with the civilians, how they welcomed her as one of them. Nor did he miss the protective manner that Chibs and the SAMPOR riders displayed to her.

He continued watching her when she exited the funeral home accompanied by the short civilian. Kozik kept a discreet distance, walking with the rest of SAMCRO, watching and waiting for a chance to speak privately to her.

As he walked with the Redwood men, Kozik's attention focused on a beige minivan cruise slowly down the street. Something didn't feel right to him about the van. His feeling of unease grew when the van's side door slid open and a shotgun stuck out the door just as Cat put her hand behind her and drew her own gun, aiming for the van.

Kozik crossed the few feet between him and Tig's woman in a flash and tackled her to the sidewalk before the SAMPOR riders or Chibs could react. He used his body as a shield as a flurry of bullets pierced the darkness.

Her heard her cry of outrage as she squirmed under him, bucking like a wild horse. 'I hope she doesn't club me with her gun! Feisty little bitch!'

Kozik heard screams erupt around them as the bullets found human targets while he continued to trying to protect Tig's woman. 'Be just my luck for her to get hit and I get blamed for it! Can't believe she's got so much strength considerin' her injuries!'

His surprise turned into pain when the back of her foot connected with his balls. He grunted and rolled off her, gritting his teeth and holding his throbbing sack. 'Shit! That hurt!'

Tig followed the woman who'd identified herself as Nate's caregiver down the hall while Gemma stood in front of the door to the den where her father was sitting watching television.

He'd immediately recognized Amelia's reluctance to allow Gemma to visit her father on her own. 'No tellin' what Rose told her about Gemma. But she's Nate's daughter and entitled to see him without a fuckin' chaperon!' He'd decided to clear the way for Gemma by askin' Amelia to show him to the washroom.

His gaze traveled down the caregiver's backside, watching her ass sway from side to side as she walked. 'She's sendin' signals,' he observed. 'Been quite awhile since the taco two – fer. But right now's not the time for that shit.'

Tig needed to check in with Clay, and he also wanted to make sure his old lady hadn't been overwhelmed by the wake. He needed to be alone to make those calls, but the caregiver had other ideas.

"Gemma can stay in this room," Amelia pointed to a closed door. "Bath is just down the hall." She paused in front of another door. "You can have this room. It's right next to mine, in case you want some company." Amelia smiled slyly, giving him the once over, her gaze resting on his crotch. 'Nice package. I'd sure like to get cozy with him!'

"Thanks, doll," Tig replied distractedly, his mind occupied with other matters. He disappeared into the bathroom to wash the road off his hands and face, then returned to the bike to retrieve the duffel bags and carried them inside.

"I'll take Gemma's bag for you, handsome," Amelia purred, meeting him at the front door.

"Thanks. I've got it," he grunted. He placed Gemma's duffel on the dresser in the room she'd be occupying and threw his onto the bed in the room he'd been assigned. Amelia followed him like a female dog in heat.

He shook his head as he closed the door to the room he'd been assigned, leaning against it so she couldn't force her way in. 'Can't use the phone in here, too much chance she'll listen in. There's gotta be some place I can make the calls without that gash listenin' in."

He heard her stomp away from the door and back down the hall. 'Hope Nate recognizes Gemma and lets her stay, or this will get real tense real quick.' He moved to the window and looked outside, checking out the back yard. A paved walkway was illuminated with solar lights and wound through a colorful garden.

'Might be a good place to make my calls. Out front's too open. No one followed us, but no sense in takin' chances and drawin' unwanted attention.'

The caregiver wasn't in the hall when he exited the bedroom, much to Tig's relief. He returned to the door to the den to check on Gemma. He found her sitting on a footstool next to Nate. She snuggled against her father's knee; Nate had one hand on her shoulder, as he expected her to disappear at any moment.

'Women and their bond with their fathers. Strong thing. Reminds me of Cat and Blaine.' A slight smile touched his lips. 'Sometimes I wish I were that close to my girls,' he thought wistfully. 'I know it's better that I'm not, but it'd be nice – someday.'

Amelia sashayed past him, her eyes roaming over his crotch yet again.

Tig turned away from the den and followed Amelia into the kitchen. She looked at him with hope in her eyes, licking her lips in anticipation. He wordlessly strode past her and out the back door, looking for a quiet place to make his telephone calls and to smoke.

The garden was lit well enough for him to easily find his way around. He walked through the garden until he found a semi secluded bench and dug both phones from his pocket, keeping an eye on the back door in case Amelia followed him.

He checked the two – way, but there was no message on it. Same with the throwaway. He called Clay's number, got voice mail and left a message that they'd arrived safe. Then he laid the phones on the bench next to him and lit a cigarette.

'He'll likely call once Sack's viewin' is over, prolly still needs to calm down a bit.' Alex inhaled deeply on his cigarette. 'Actually, Clay needs to calm down a lot.' He thought back to their conversation when he'd called to explain he was taking Gemma to visit her father.

"What the Hell do you mean, you're takin' Gemma to Klamath Falls? Are you nuts?" Clay roared into the cellphone.

"Clay, she's not givin' me much choice!" Tig retorted, explaining about the obituary that had set Gemma off. "I swear, she's as bad as Cat when it comes to bein' stubborn! Gemma's already wounded one civilian who caught her tryin' to boost his car!"

"Oh, shit! Why in Hell haven't ya moved her outta there already?"

"It's a'right, Clay. Everything's under control, with a little help from Cat," he assured Clay, explaining how she'd come through for them again by providing the hush money without the Feds knowing about it.

"The only way I could get your girl to settle down was to agree to take her to her dad's, especially when we learned the story was legit!" he added.

Clay grinned wryly. 'Tig's got his hands full, a'right' He sighed in resignation. "Rose dead. Didn't see that one comin'. Couldn't happen at a worse time. Makes sense Gemma would want to see her dad. Traveling at night is prolly best. Keeps ya off the radar."

Tig could tell that Clay had grudgingly accepted the situation, though he was definitely not happy with it. "You've got Sack's viewin' tonight. I'll check in with ya later when we get to Nate's."

"Keep my girl safe."

He pressed the speed dial button to the two – way. 'C'mon, baby! Answer the phone!'

The two – way's voice mail answered. "Hey, love! I know you said to keep the phone open for y'all, but there are times when talkin' on a cell phone is not appropriate, and Kip's viewin' is one of 'em. Hope y'all made it safe. Miss y'all. Call me later, love, and we'll talk."

He glanced at his watch and frowned. It wasn't late, but he felt a nagging worry in the pit of his stomach.

He tried to reassure himself. 'First time she's been out and around a lot of people since leavin' the hospital; prolly a lot of traffic at the funeral home, slowin' her down. Might as well leave her a message.'

He huffed a stream of smoke and cleared his throat. "Hey, baby. Made it a'right. Hope seein' that the kid got patched in didn't hurt ya too much. Call me as soon as you can." He didn't add an admonition for her to be careful. 'She knows I'm worried 'bout her; no need to rub it in.'

Alex stood and walked through the garden, not really seeing the various flowers Nate had tended for years. He was relieved that they hadn't been tailed on the trip from Rogue River to Klamath Falls. He'd been tense during the entire journey, watching for suspicious vehicles in the dark.

He swung his arms about as he walked and worked his neck in a circle, relaxing the muscles that had tightened during the ride. 'Wish Cat was here, she'd help work out the kinks!'

He returned to the bench, sat down, and withdrew his wallet from his back pocket, removing an small item and gazing sorrowfully at it. "I didn't forget ya, baby. It's been busy today; first chance I've had to talk to ya all day. I miss ya."

Time passed while he communed with Missy, as he did every day at some point when he was able to be alone with her. Eventually, the pain lessened as it always did and he relegated Missy to that part of his heart and mind that was solely hers, returning his wallet to his back pocket.

He glanced at his watch again and frowned. 'Not too late for the guys to be out, but none of 'em would let her be out this long after the wake ended! I've gotta bad feelin' about this!'

Cat felt something heavy hit her from behind. 'Too damn heavy for a bullet!' she grunted, hitting the ground with a dead weight covering hers. She wiggled furiously for her freedom.

"Let me up!" she fumed, feeling pain in her side where she'd landed. Her gun was still clenched in her hand. She considered using it as a club, but couldn't work her arm back to swing it effectively. The heel of one foot managed to connect with her tackler's groin. He swore and rolled off her.

Cat rose to her knees, raised the gun, aimed, and fired at the accelerating van. She felt the gun retort, but the bullets sprayed chunks of asphalt up in front of the van instead of hitting the engine she aimed at. "Shit! I missed!"

Despite the pain in his gonads, Kozik felt a reluctant sense of respect for Tig's woman. 'Not a bad shot. Prolly would've hit the tires if I hadn't tackled her and shook her up.'

One of the shooters fell out of the van as it picked up speed to escape. The shooter rolled along the pavement. The force of his fall either winded him or knocked him out; he lay motionless as the van sped away.

Other shots rang out as Sons and Charming PD officers fired at the minivan and missed. She saw David Hale stand in front of the speeding vehicle, his gun raised in a silent command for the van to stop.

The van didn't obey. It hit him solidly; the sickening sound of the vehicle hitting his body could be heard over the cries and moans of wounded individuals.

Cat felt nauseated when she heard the sound of Hale's head being hit by the tires. 'Sounded like a rotten punkin fallin' on cement!' She had seen enough accidents as a news reporter to know Hale's injuries were fatal. 'I will not hurl in front of everyone, includin' Kozik!'

Unser and Jacob Hale ran to the fallen Deputy Chief while the bystanders were rising to their feet. She heard someone grunt behind her and turned with the gun aimed, not knowing what or who to expect.

"Take it easy, woman! That's no way to thank me for savin' your ass!" Kozik snarled, glaring cross – eyed at the gun pointed at his nose. His hands still cradled his injured sack.

Cat felt a wave of satisfaction that she'd hit Kozik where it hurt him the most. "Don't recall askin' you to, asshole!" she growled, checking around to see if anyone else was injured.

A young mother was kneeling behind her injured son, crying incoherently and leaning his body against her chest. The child's front was covered in blood. Cat was relieved that the mother wasn't Lyla, and the child was too old for Opie's kids.

She pulled out her cell to call 911, then heard the wail of approaching sirens and put the cell phone back in her pocket.

Another wail of pain from a near by male caught her attention. She turned to see Chuckie holding his palm against his upper arm. "Shit!" She holstered her gun and limped up to him, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and twisting it lengthwise.

While Cat rushed to aid Chuckie, Jax leapt onto the street, running towards the passenger that had fallen out of the fleeing mini van. Two of Charming's finest had their tazers aimed at the shooter; that didn't stop Jax from trying to wipe the pavement with the man.

'The cops oughta taze Jax if he doesn't stop beatin' the tar outta that guy! No one can get answers from a dead man, and he's the only lead to whoever did this!' She removed Chuckie's hand from the wound and wrapped the handkerchief around his arm, pulling it tight to stop the flow of blood.

"Hang on, darlin'. Y'all are gonna be OK."

He groaned in protest at the jarring pain caused by her cinching the handkerchief above the wound.

"Sorry darlin'. I know it hurts. C'mon. I'm takin' ya to the hospital."

As they hurried to the rental, Cat noticed that the Charming officers had finally subdued Jax. Both the shooter and Jax were handcuffed.

Her eyes met Clay's across the street. She pointed at Chuckie's arm. "St. Thomas ER," she mouthed, unlocking the car through its' remote and opening the hatchback, indicating Chuckie should lie down.

"I can wait for the ambulance. Don't want to get the rental all bloody," Chuckie protested weakly.

"You won't if you lie on your good side and keep the injury up."

Chuckie shook his head.

"Don't argue with me! Get your ass in the damn car!"

Chuckie continued to gaze apologetically at her instead of getting into the car.

"What's wrong, darlin'?"

"Miss Cat, you know I don't have insurance; only place that'll treat me is county. I can't ask you to drive me to Stockton."

"You're aren't and I'm not. Get in the car, I'll cover it."

'All that money I just put into standby would come in handy right now!' He flinched, hoping she would think it was caused by the pain from his wound. "I can't accept that! You've done so much for me already!"

"Chuckie, I swear to God, if you don't get in the car, I'll hogtie ya to the damn hood! You got dat?"

Another wave pain shot through Chuckie. "I accept that," he gasped, sliding into the hatchback of the HHR. 'I'll just have to figure out a way to get some of that money moved into the fund for her. Maybe an anonymous cashier's check will do it.'

"Glad y'all saw the light," she murmured, closing the door and going around to the driver's side.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Cat," Chuckie replied wryly.

"Shut up and relax. We'll be at the hospital in no time," Cat replied fondly, starting the vehicle and racing from the parking lot.

While Cat was busy with Chuckie, Kozik managed to crawl painfully to his feet. "My balls feel like they've swellin' into the size of grapefruit. How can such a small woman pack such a wallop?"

"Be glad she pulled 'er punch, Kozik," Chibs observed dryly. "Othawise, ye'd be 'oldin' 'em in a bag, instead o' yer 'and. Ye really gotta learn not ta underestimate our Lady Cat."

James Windover hated covering funerals of any kind. He was of the opinion that the media had no business sticking their cameras and microphones where they weren't wanted, no matter how famous – or infamous – the deceased might've been.

His personal feelings not withstanding, Windover had been assigned to cover funerals for dignitaries, celebrities, and police officers. Now he was being assigned to cover the Prospect's funeral, including the wake.

"It's part of the ongoing LOAN story," Pesta grumbled in Powell's office. Windover had requested a meeting with the news director and the assignment editor to voice his objections over the assignment. "An outlaw motorcyclist who served his country. We can't pass up this chance to explore the mix of military heroes and outlaws!"

"I'm going to have to side with Pesta on this one, James," Powell had added. "I respect your feelings, and that's why I want you to cover this. You'll treat it with the dignity it deserves."

Windover's camera operator had taken discreet footage of the funeral home exterior, and of people leaving and entering the building. He'd also taken close ups of SAMCRO, Cat Marshall, and the Patriot Riders, as they all had integral roles in his story.

Windover stood in front of the Patriot Riders to record a short stand up explaining their presence. "The Patriot Riders are a national group of former military service members and motorcycle riders who guard funerals of fallen comrades in arms from protesters of the Westboro Baptist Church of Kansas.

"These fanatical church members display signs written with disturbing slogans and often abuse the American flag to the distress of family and friends of the fallen military hero. The Patriot Riders use peaceful means to keep the protesters from disturbing the funeral and upsetting the deceased soldiers' family members. Those means include revving their motorcycle engines to drown out the protesters chants and holding the American flag high enough to block the church members' signs as mourners pass the protesters."

Windover paused a moment, then gave a count down and continued, "In this case, the deceased veteran was a prospective member of Charming's local motorcycle club, the Sons of Anarchy. That club held a standoff earlier this week in the center of town when a rival club from Oakland, the Mayans, provided protection for Ethan Zobelle, a reputed high ranking member of the League of American Nationalists, also known as LOAN.

"Employees and associates of Zobelle, including his alleged lieutenant, AJ Weston, were linked to an auto accident that severely injured local coffeehouse owner Cat Marshall. Ms. Marshall has since been released from the hospital. Weston was found shot to death in the bathroom of a local tattoo parlor a day later, while Zobelle reportedly left the country."

Windover's camera operator saw a van move slowly down the street out of the corner of his eye as the reporter presented his narrative. At the sudden sound of gunshots, the camera operator swung his lens on the van, capturing the gunfire issuing from it and the death of Deputy Chief Hale.

"Holy shit!" he whispered, feeling his stomach flip at the sickening sound of the tires running over Hale, continuing to record the action. He picked up shots of the wounded civilians, Jax Teller's attack on the shooter who'd fallen from the van, and Cat Marshall and members of the Sons shooting at the van.

The camera operator zoomed in on Jax while he was being subdued by CPD. "Isn't that the guy whose kid was taken the other day?"

"I think so!" Windover activated the clip - on radio. "This is unit three, we've got action here in Charming. A drive – by shooting and hit and run combined. I need research to check on the name and description of the father of the kidnapped child."

"Ten four, unit three," Pesta's excited voice erupted through the radio. "We've got another hot damn exclusive in Charming!"

'Figures you'd get a hard – on over that, you son of a bitch!' Windover thought. "I suppose you want to go live and break into programming?"

"I'll check with Powell, see what he thinks. Stand by," Pesta's voice shook from excitement.

"Sounds like the little prick is about to cream his drawers," Windover's camera operator joked. "I'll go edit this stuff, get it ready for broadcast. I don't know if we should use the part about the Deputy Chief getting run over."

"We don't, and we're not telling Pesta or Powell we have it," Windover replied grimly. "We'll make a copy of what we can use and turn the original over to CPD for evidence. Might help them find the vehicle."

The camera operator nodded his own grim agreement. "Damn shit's way too inflammatory for broadcast. What Pesta doesn't know won't hurt either of us."

The radio on Windover's hip blared into life again. "Unit three, stand by for live cut – in. You have five minutes to prepare." Pesta's voice rasped authoritatively. "Research reports the father of the kidnapped child is Jackson Teller, a member of that motorcycle club. Leave nothing you've captured on tape out of the broadcast. We'll run a disclaimer."

"Ten – four that," Windover replied.

"I mean it," Pesta shot back angrily. "If I find out you squashed anything -"

"I heard you the first time," Windover interjected. "Let me get this ready for fuckin' broadcast, would you? Unit three out!"

"Asshole," Windover's camera operator muttered. "I'll be in the van. This will be just between us, eh?"

Windover nodded, jotting notes for his lead and overlapping narrative. He'd worked with the cameraman long enough to know how the other man thought. He trusted the cameraman to do what they'd discussed.

'I'm beginning to understand why Ms. Marshall left the business all those years ago.'

Cat drove quickly to St. Thomas and pulled into the closest possible parking space near the ER entrance. 'I could let Chuckie out at the door and park. I'm afraid of what Margaret might pull if she finds him alone without insurance! Best if I stay with him.'

She hit the interior button that unlocked the hatch and hurried to the back of the HHR. "C'mon, darlin', the walk's not far. Once we get inside, I ain't leavin' ya alone except for treatment!" She growled in a gruff explanation of why she'd opted to park the car instead of let him out and join him inside.

"It's OK, Miss Cat," Chuckie grimaced, scooting out of the Chevy's hatchback. "I can make it."

She took one look at his pale features and made a quick decision. "Sit there on the edge," she instructed, hurrying to the ER entrance. She spotted an empty wheelchair sitting just inside the door, appropriated it, and rushed back to the rental.

"Goin' my way, sailor?"

"I accept that," he grinned, launching himself into the wheelchair. "Forward, Jeeves!"

Cat took Chuckie's joking as a good sign. They passed through the doors and she pushed him to the desk.

"Got a gunshot wound to the upper arm here. Victim of the drive – by at Dubrowski's."

The quiet authority in Cat's voice resulted in a prompt response from the staff. An orderly took Cat's place behind the wheelchair and pushed Chuckie into a treatment room.

"I'll be waitin' for ya, darlin'!" she called reassuringly.

Cat accepted the familiar clipboard of forms from the clerk. "One of the other gunshot victims is a minor. I'm takin' the financial responsibility for him, too, so might as well give me those forms."

"Oh, really?" the clerk replied, arching her artfully plucked eyebrows in disdain. "And you are -?"

"The administrator of the Sons of Anarchy Medical Emergency Fund," she retorted, staring at the clerk.

Invoking the name of the club seemed to flip an internal switch. The clerk flushed and her attitude suddenly became more co-operative.

"Yes, ma'am. Here's the forms you need to fill out for the minor."

Cat nodded and moved to the lounge to fill out the paperwork. As she finished the last page, sirens announced the arrival of the next casualty from the funeral home.

Cat thought of calling Alex to let him know she was OK, but decided against it. 'Too many cops and maybe even Feds around. Don't need them overhearin' me talkin' to him.'

The first ambulance pulled up to the ER entrance. The EMT and a cop leaped out of the back, removing the stretcher that held the shooter Jax had beaten.

Cat took a good look at the shooter as the stretcher passed her, noting the man was Hispanic. 'Mayan? Retaliation for the highway? Ballsy of Alvarez to pull somethin' like that and harmin' innocents!'

The ambulance attendant reported the injury to the charge nurse. "Broken jaw, multiple cuts and blows to the head. BP is 125/90, respirations 50. He's in CPD custody."

The first ambulance pulled away as another screeched to a halt in front of the entrance. The young boy who'd been hit by a stray bullet and his mother exited, along with an EMT.

The mother was crying and either didn't know or care that she had her son's blood on her hands. The mother fought like a tigress when the medical personnel prevented her from staying with her child, but the medical personnel prevailed.

Cat laid the completed forms and clip boards on the admitting desk and walked up to the distraught woman. "Why medical people force family members to wait out of the treatment room is beyond me. Especially when the patient is a little one and could use a parent's comfort," she commented softly. "Your child's in good hands, though. I was recently treated by 'em."

The woman sniffed and looked at Cat from the sides of her eyes. "You're that coffeehouse owner, aren't you? One of their girlfriends!"

"Correct on both counts. My name is Cat Marshall. I'm sorry your child was hurt, ma'am."

"You should be!" The woman spat. "My husband is stationed in Afghanistan. I felt it was important for my son to pay his respects to a fallen military man, regardless of his choice of civilian friends!"

'She's worried about her child. I can't blame her for lashin' out in anger,' Cat chose to ignore the woman's scathing opinion of the Sons. "That's very decent of y'all, ma'am. I appreciate your husband's service. My deceased husband served in the Army, though not in wartime."

The woman's expression grew more angry. "Huh! He must be spinning in his grave that you're associating with a group of thugs like them! No matter what they've done for this town, after tonight, they're just a bunch of thugs like the ones who shot my child!"

"But the Sons had no idea that another club would send a bunch of cowards to shoot unarmed people at a wake!" Cat protested.

"I don't give a damn! They're thugs, all of 'em! Dirty, rotten, criminals, the whole lot!" The woman replied coldly.

"I agree with y'all about the cowards that shot into a crowd of unarmed civilians, Mrs -?"

The woman glared at Cat, then reluctantly supplied her name. "McCargo."

"Nor do I intend to stand here and try to persuade ya that Sons are angels, Mrs. McCargo. We both know they aren't angels, but they're not the demons you believe them to be. What I am gonna do is take ya to the washroom so y'all can clean up. I'm sure y'all don't wanna get your child's blood all over the remainder of the paperwork for your child."

Mrs. McCargo's halted in mid step, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean, the remainder of the paperwork?"

Cat laid a comforting hand on Mrs. McCargo's shoulder. "The club has an emergency medical fund that I administer. Your child was hurt at a SAMCRO function; I'm coverin' your child's medical expenses."

Mrs. McCargo's eyes snapped indignant fire. "You're just trying to buy my co - operation!" she hissed.

"That's not what I'm doin', but if that's what y'all wanna believe, that's entirely up to you," Cat replied quietly. "Go on, wash up a little. I'll wait for word on your little one."

"His name is Reese," Mrs. McCargo stated softly, turning towards the bathroom. She stared at Cat over her shoulder for a moment before entering and closing the door behind her.

While Cat had been talking with Mrs. McCargo, the last ambulance carrying Hale's body had pulled in. Hale was removed and wheeled straight to the morgue. Cat saluted the body of the Deputy Chief as it passed her, a gesture that didn't go un - noticed by Unser.

"He didn't deserve to go out that way," Unser noted quietly. "At least it was quick."

"Thank God for that. It shouldn't have happened at all. I'm sorry you lost a good man."

"Good of you to say so. You sometimes didn't have a high opinion of him."

Cat shrugged. "Only when he seemed to have blinders on where Tig is concerned. Hale saw things either black or white, but never grey. Any idea who the guy is that Jax beat up?"

Unser shook his head. "Guy can't say anything with that broken jaw. I've got the prints running, but nothing's come back yet. He wasn't carrying any ID."

"So we don't know for sure whether the Mayans are behind this."

Unser scrubbed his face with both hands. "Not at the moment. I wonder if that will make any difference."

"I think it will," Cat hastened to assure him. "The thing on Main Street and the highway happened because Alvarez aligned his club with the wrong person. The Mayans who were hurt were hit by Zobelle when he fled the scene. Doesn't make sense that the Mayans would retaliate in such a bloody way. Much less harm innocents."

Unser pondered her statement. "You're right, Cat. It doesn't make sense. Maybe a rogue group is setting up the Mayans. Did you get a good look at the van?"

"Not good enough. It looked beige to me, had a dent on the upper passenger fender, late model GMC type, but I couldn't see the frackin' license plate! Wish I hadn't missed the engine. They wouldn't have gotten away!"

"A lot of us missed it, Cat. And no one else got the license either, including myself, and I'm trained for that!" He looked over his shoulder at the closed bathroom door. "I heard what you said to the kid's mom. That's pretty decent of you. Might help the Sons' standing with the community."

"I'm not doin' it for that, Chief," she replied icily.

"I know, Cat. But you can't deny the club will benefit if word gets out."

"I don't intend for it to come out."

"It will, though. This is a still a small town; the word will get out, whether you want it to or not."

"Well, the longer it takes, the happier I'll be. This matter is between me, Mrs. McCargo, and the hospital billing department."

Unser spread his hands. "I'm not planning on saying anything."

"Good. I don't intend to say anything about it, either."

Neither one of them noticed that the admitting clerk was listening intently to their discussion as she entered the information from the forms Cat had filled out into the hospital computer. She made extra money supplying information to reporters about various patients when they needed it. She knew she had something worth a lot of money to the right person.

"How's Chuckie?"

"I think he'll be OK," she replied, glancing at the treatment room he'd been taken to. "He got hit in the upper arm."

Unser escorted her to a chair and sat down next to her. "Jax is in custody. I had to make a show of taking him in with Jacob Hale there. You know he's got mayoral aspirations. He'd have made a lot of trouble if I'd let Jax walk."

"Probably a good idea, give him time to cool off. Why didn't the officers taze his ass?"

"He was doing what they wanted to do to the guy for killing Hale," Unser explained.

Cat nodded.

"Listen, don't overdo. I'd stay with you, but -"

"You've got a long night ahead of you, Wayne. I'll be OK."

The doors to the ER whooshed open to admit Clay and the other Sons. Clay sighed with relief to see Cat sitting with Unser.

She likewise sighed with relief to see that Kozik hadn't come with them.

"I'll talk to you later, Cat. Clay," Unser nodded at the MC president and headed for the morgue.

"Chuckie a'right?"

"He's in treatment. He's conscious," she replied. "Don't worry about his expenses. The fund's coverin' him."

"Somethin' tells me that's not the only thing you're coverin'." Clay replied.

"Shit! Can't nothin' stay on the QT 'round here?"

Clay answered her with a look.

"Fine! The fund is coverin' the kid that got hurt," she added, resenting that Clay required her to publicize the deed, even if it was just to him.

Clay laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze of appreciation. "Thanks, Cat. For everything you've done for us tonight," he said meaningfully.

Mrs. McCargo exited the bathroom, her hands and arms washed clean of her son's blood. 'Looks like she took time to get composed. I hope she doesn't fly off the handle at Clay.'

Mrs. McCargo spied Clay standing next to Cat and her eyes narrowed. Cat stiffened as the woman advanced.

"You're with that club, aren't you?" Mrs. McCargo stated flatly.

"Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry your boy was hurt," Clay replied quietly.

"And I'm sorry your man was killed. I remember hearing on the news that he was killed at the same time the baby was abducted."

"Yes, ma'am. The baby is my grandchild," he affirmed in the same quiet tone of voice. Only his eyes betrayed the pain he felt over all the events that had happened in his town in the last few days.

Mrs. McCargo's eyes softened over Clay's obvious distress. "You've got quite an advocate there in Ms. Marshall. I don't appreciate what happened tonight, but in retrospect, you were victims, too. You should appreciate her."

"We do, ma'am," Clay replied, glancing fondly at Cat.

"She reminded me that you're not just a group of thugs; that you work hard to keep our town what it is. It's not your fault that those animals shot at us tonight." She saw the doctor step out of her son's treatment room. "Excuse me," she moved away to speak with the doctor about her son's condition.

Clay and Cat watched apprehensively as the doctor and mother conversed quietly. She didn't collapse in a fit of wailing, but she didn't look overly pleased either. She walked back to them and explained, "They got the bullet, but my child is in serious condition. They're taking him to the ICU now."

Officers from Charming PD gathered in the emergency room lobby, though the word had already spread amongst them that David Hale was dead.

They did what all cops do when one of their own was down. While Hale's body was being examined by the coroner, they rolled up their sleeves to give blood in his name for use in other emergencies. Cops from the county sheriff's department and CHP also took part.

As they waited their turns, the cops spoke in muted voices about the drive – by and Hale's death. Clay and the Sons also joined in the blood drive, their own way of paying silent tribute to a fallen hero.

"I might not have always agreed with Hale, but he was a good cop," Clay stated to Unser.

Cat also rolled up her sleeve to donate a pint. She knew nearly all the local cops present, had gotten to know them from their visits to the coffeehouse. Her heart ached for their loss.

James Windover and his camera operator appeared inside the lobby, but the camera wasn't with them. The admissions clerk waved him over and spoke with him, gesturing with her head at Cat.

He nodded, thanked her and slipped a folded bill across the counter to her. "Will this keep you from selling the information to any other reporters?"

She looked at the denomination and nodded, slipping the bill into her blouse. 'But if someone offers more, you lose your exclusive and there's not a damn thing you can do about it!'

Windover thanked her, then he and the camera operator signed in for donating blood. Then he walked over to speak with Cat.

"Any chance you'd be willing to speak on camera about donating? You're the only businessperson here at the moment giving blood on Hale's behalf."

"I'd really rather not, James," Cat replied.

"I appreciate your feelings, Ms. Marshall, but you wouldn't be promoting yourself. You'd be giving a civilian's point of view. Balance and the whole story, remember?"

She glared at him, though her good eye gleamed with amusement. "Not fair to use my own words against me, buddy!"

Windover grinned at her. "Then you'll do it?"

She nodded. "But not in here. The cops deserve to mourn in private. I'll meet you outside."

"Fair enough," Windover replied, signaling to his camera operator to follow him.

"We'll have plenty of time to do the interview, and get some 'b roll'. There's quite a few ahead of us on the waiting list."

"Can you say that a little louder?" Windover hissed as they walked out the door to the news van. "They might not have heard you in the front lobby!"

"Afraid someone will find out you have a soft spot?" the camera operator grinned wickedly.

"Just don't want to give anyone a reason to question my objectivity," Windover replied with a wry grin.

'Reporters can have a soft spot, we just don't show it that often." Cat followed them out to the parking area, a smile of amusement on her tired face. "Don't worry, James. You're secret's safe with me."

"Damn! You're sneaky!" Windover yelped. "I thought you were still inside!"

"Obviously not," she laughed. "It's nice of you two to give blood. The blood bank can use it."

"Is that why the Sons are donating?"

"I suppose a lot of the townspeople will be out to donate before long," Cat replied softly.

The camera operator gathered his equipment, handing the microphone to the reporter. Windover nodded and the camera operator quietly started filming the pair, and also took a shot through the ER doors, capturing the Sons and the cops talking together.

"During the wake for Kip Epps this evening, unknown assailants attacked in a drive by shooting. Two civilians were wounded, one – a child – was seriously injured. The escaping van then ran over Charming's deputy police chief, David Hale, killing him. Police officers from Charming and the county, along with members of the Sons of Anarchy motorcycle club that Mr. Epps was prospecting, are inside the hospital, donating blood in honor of the Deputy -"

"Honor my ass!" snarled an angry voice behind the camera operator. Jacob Hale strode towards Windover, his face a mask of fury. "If it weren't for the Sons, my brother wouldn't be lying on a slab in the morgue right now!"

"And if it weren't for you bringin' Zobelle and LOAN to town, Kip wouldn't be lyin' in a casket in Dubrowski's!" Cat snarled. "I'd watch the finger pointin' if I were you, Hale!"

"I'm not surprised you'd take up for those outlaws, Ms. Marshall!" Hale intoned loftily. "Everyone knows where your loyalties lie!"

"Someone has to stick up for the club; you've been tryin' to get rid of the Sons and turn this town into another urban ghetto for years! This is one thing you can't lay entirely at the Son's door, you bastard! This town has lost a good cop tonight and we don't even know who was behind the drive – by, much less why they did it!" Cat retorted.

"It's obvious who was behind it! The Mayans were getting even for that ambush on the highway the other day!" Hale snapped. "An ambush that your precious SAMCRO performed!"

Cat wanted to smack Hale, but kept a reign on her temper. "Look, Hale, I shouldn't have to remind you that a lot of innocent people got hurt after LOAN came here," she stated in a quieter tone of voice. "Arguin' possibilities without all the facts isn't gonna change anythin'."

Hale glared at her, seeming to notice for the first time the bruises and cuts on her face, bandage over her eye, and the cast on her arm. He mopped his face with his hand. "You're right. You were one of those who were hurt. I'm sorry."

Cat shrugged. "You lost your brother. You're upset. I don't blame y'all. Right now, the club and a lot of cops are rollin' up their sleeves and givin' a pint in your brother's name. So did I. So will a lot of carin' people in this town. Maybe that's the better way to honor him."

Hale turned on his heel and strode into the lobby, stalking past the assembled club without a word and heading directly for the morgue.

The camera operator turned off the light and lowered his camera. Cat whirled to glare at him. "You're not usin' that argument on air!"

"No, ma'am," the camera operator replied. "But we are going to use that bit about the best way to honor the Deputy Chief."

"I agree," Windover added in response to her challenge. 'But we're saving that bit about Hale bringing Zobelle to Charming. That might come in useful later on. Pesta won't like it, but that bit about the club's emergency medical fund covering the wounded kid's expenses will be a great side story!'

Cat nodded at the two, gazing through the glass doors of the emergency room entrance to see Chuckie exiting the treatment room. "I've gotta go," she explained, striding into the lobby.

Windover and the camera operator exchanged glances. "Guess you can do your stand up right in front of the entrance," the operator mused, swinging his camera into position and turning on the light.

Alex returned to the bench from another walk around the garden and lit another cigarette, trying not to worry over the continued silence from the two – way and his woman.

The throw away buzzed for attention. He dug it out of his pocket with a sigh of relief. He placed the two – way on the bench next to him and flipped open the throw away. "Yeah."

"Got your message," Clay's voice rumbled from the phone. "Been dealing with a major clusterfuck tonight. Drive by shooting at the funeral home."

'That's the bad feelin' I was havin'!' Tig pinched his nose with the fingers of one hand. "Shit! Any casualties?"

"We're whole and your lady is OK. Chuckie got shot in the arm. A civilian's kid got seriously hurt."

Alex felt a wave of relief wash over him. 'Cat's OK and we're whole. Too bad about the kid gettin' hurt. Somethin' tells me there's more.' He waited while he heard Clay lighting a cigar.

"Hale's dead," Clay added. "Damn shooters ran right over him. Crushed his head like a rotten pumpkin."

"Shit!"

"You said it, brother. How's Nate?"

Tig accepted Clay's abrupt change of subject without question. He'd already learned what was most important to him. "Seems OK; he recognized Gemma right off. Wanna talk to her?"

Clay seriously considered it. He missed his woman and wanted to hear her voice. He also knew that learning of the drive by had upset Tig, and that his Sergeant at Arms wanted to make reassuring contact with his own old lady. "You need to be free to talk to your girl."

'Dunno when that's gonna happen!' Tig glared at the two – way that remained stubbornly quiet on the bench beside him. "A'right. Appreciate the intel."

Clay heard the frustration in Tig's voice. "She's whole, Tig. She just dropped Chuckie off from the hospital. I told her to call ya ASAP, said she would as soon as she got home."

"She'd better," Tig growled under his breath, but Clay heard it.

"She will. Hell, your girl was one of the first to try to shoot the tires out from under the van. She missed. So did Unser and I and most of CPD. Jax beat the shit out of one of the perps that fell out of the van before it hit Hale."

"That was a stupid move!" Tig flicked his cigarette butt to the pathway, crushing it under his boot. "What the fuck was he thinkin'?"

"He wasn't. That's the problem. Word is he broke the asshole's jaw. Hispanic. Might've been the Mayans getting payback for the highway ambush. Jax is spendin' the night at the CPD hotel. Call me when Gemma's up in the mornin'."

"A'right. Talk to ya later, Clay." Tig turned off the throw away and picked up the two – way, which had started vibrating on the bench. He opened it, held it to his ear, and growled, "'Bout damn fucking time, woman!"

"Hey back to y'all, too, love!" Her voice sounded amused and tired. "Called you as soon as I could. Needed to get Chuckie back to the clubhouse before I could come home. Couldn't call until I made sure there were no bugs. Guess y'all heard about the excitement tonight?"

"Don't even try actin' casual about it! What the fuck's the big idea of tryin' to shoot at the drive - by? You got a death wish?" The hand holding the phone to his ear was shaking like a leaf in a gale.

"No, love. I was just tryin' to stop the shooters from gettin' away. Would've hit the damn tire if Kozik hadn't tackled me!"

"What the fuck was Kozik doin' there?" he roared.

"Supposedly to pay his respects for Prospect. I overheard an ulterior motive, though." She quickly informed him of the conversation she'd overheard between Kozik and Clay. "Happy's gonna be transferrin' back in from the nomads, and Opie mentioned three hang arounds to prospect. That's when Kozik dropped his little bomb. The fucktard had the audacity to hover around, like he wanted to talk privately with me," she added. "When the shootin' started, he tackled me. He claimed he was tryin' to save my life."

Alex snarled, "What would he hope to gain from talkin' to you?" He was angry that Kozik had dared to lay a hand on her, even if it had kept her from getting hurt or killed.

Cat let loose with a short laugh, but Alex heard more anger than humour in it. "I suspect he thought takin' a bullet for me would get him on yer good side."

"That sounds like him, a'right," Alex replied. "Not surprisin' that he'd consider savin' your ass as a means to his own end. It's what he does best. Not that I don't appreciate the fact that you're whole, instead of full of 'em!"

Cat snorted. "Y'all had me worried that you didn't give a damn about that!"

"I'd have gotten around to mentionin' it, baby. Thanks for the intel."

"Anytime, love. Chuckie's gonna be OK. Shot went clean through his arm. He'll be in pain for awhile. The fund is also goin' to pay for the kid that got shot. It seemed the right thing to do."

"Fuck that! Are you a'right, baby?" He could hear wind chimes and figured she was either on their front porch or the back yard. "Where are ya?"

"Sittin' in the dark on the front porch, alleviatin' a little stress. June's sound asleep; I didn't wanna disturb her. I'm a bit wound up yet, but otherwise fine."

'Anytime a woman says she's fine, she's the opposite!' Alex mused. He forced a lighter tone to his voice to ask, "And just how are ya alleviatin' that stress? Tai chi?"

"Of course!" She replied quickly and innocently.

'Anytime she says those words in that tone of voice, she's lyin' through her teeth!' A grin crossed Alex's face. "Little liar, you are so full of bull shit and you are so busted!"

"OK, you caught me. I'm smokin' a cigarillo," she admitted sheepishly. "I'm too sore for tai chi, love. But Kozik got pay back for that tackle. He's gonna be spendin' the night holdin' an icebag to the family jewels."

"You're a dangerous woman," he whispered.

"Don't you forget it, buster!" she replied softly. "How's Gemma's dad?"

"Watchin' her with her father reminded me a lot of you and Blaine, 'cept your dad's a lot sharper. How's he's doin'?"

"Fine. Still fussin' at me for leavin' the hospital early."

Alex laughed outright. It sounded good to her. "I knew there was a reason I like the man. Great minds think alike."

"Don't you start! He's happy that I'm gettin' the replacement PT. Neither of us was impressed with the Shabby Lay."

"It beats shanksmare, baby. No ridin' the bike until your eye is checked out."

"I know. Your little friend threatened to rat me out if I even think of lookin' at 'Blackie II'!" She sighed in frustration.

"He's just doin' what he was told to do, baby."

"Just remember that Karma is a real bitch, and so am I."

Alex laughed at her warning. "I'm really scared of you, woman!" His laugh was gently mocking.

"If you're gonna be disrespectful, I'm gonna disconnect on your ass. Much as I miss your golden tones, and your other manly parts, we've been on the phone too long. Don't wanna make things easy for the Feds. Especially since they're still sittin' across the street."

'Shit! I don't really wanna end this, but she's right.' He didn't like the idea of ending the call. Was sit wrong to want just a little more time? "Guess so, baby," he sighed.

Cat heard the reluctance in his voice. "I hate bein' right sometimes. If y'all haven't talked to Missy yet, be sure to do so. Sleep well, love. I'll talk to ya when I talk to ya and see ya in yer dreams."

"Later baby. Sleep well." He closed the two – way and pocketed it, sitting with his head cradled in his hands. 'Shit! Can't believe I miss her this much to not wanna end a fuckin' call.'

Cat turned off the two – way and leaned her head against the house with a relieved sigh. 'I knew Alex would be upset over the drive by; glad the intel on Kozik diffused his temper.'

She inhaled deeply on the strawberry cigarillo she'd lit, then blew the smoke through her nose. She watched it dissipate in the wind. Enjoying an illicit smoke helped settle her frayed nerves.

'It's not as much fun when he's not around to fuss about it, though.' She flinched as she inhaled, her cracked rib had been aggravated when Kozik tackled her. 'If this keeps up, I'll have to make a visit to the hospital!'

Her heart jumped as the distinctive sound of a Harley engine roared up the street and grow louder as it slowly approached her driveway.

'I know it's not Alex!' She dug her Iphone out of her pocket, but there were no messages, and she'd not heard the phone ring inside the house. 'The guys know better than to come by this late at night without callin' ahead.'

She reached behind her, withdrew her gun and placed it in her lap. 'Never hurts to re – enforce a lesson. Worse case scenario, the visitor can truthfully tell Alex I'm bein' careful!' She also reached into the inner pocket of her jacket and switched on the voice activated digital recorder she always carried.

The Harley pulled into the drive, briefly illuminating the porch and front door, but not her perch on the railing. The engine stopped and the light went out. A tall figure dismounted and strode towards the porch, the light from the living room illuminated his face.

'Kozik! What the Hell does he want?' She picked up her gun and aimed it at the unwelcome visitor's crotch. "Stop right there, Kozik! If y'all make one wrong move, I'll be more than pleased to change ya from a rooster to a hen!" she snarled.

Kozik stopped at the entrance to the porch and raised his hands with a yelp of surprise. "God damn it! I'm gettin' sick and tired of you pointin' that fucking thing at me and threatenin' my balls!"

"Since that's what y'all seem to think with most of the time, I wanted to make sure I'd get your attention," she purred maliciously.

"Believe me, you've got it. Ya always this hostile to visitors?"

"If y'all wanted a warmer reception, y'all shouldn't have come here without callin' ahead. Don't go gettin' any ideas of disarmin' me, either. I don't miss at close range!"

"Figures Tig would teach ya to handle a gun."

Cat snorted derisively. "Showin' your incredible ignorance again! I've known how to handle a gun for years, thanks to my male cousins. So what's the reason for the late hour social call?"

"Mind if I put my hands down? I'm a little uncomfortable standin' like this," Kozik whined.

Cat smirked at him. "Your comfort is none of my concern. But if you're gonna insist on it, go ahead. Take it slow, and don't make any sudden moves."

Kozik complied with her order, slowly lowering his arms to his sides. "Thanks. May I sit down?"

"On the railing, where I can keep an eye on y'all. No pun intended."

Kozik leaned against the porch railing in front of her, being careful to keep his hands out to his sides and well away from any of his weapons. "Tig's obviously not taught ya to show the proper respect due a member of the MC."

"I give respect when it's earned. That cut y'all are wearin' doesn't automatically entitle you to my respect. You've not done a thing to deserve it. You're not doin' a Hell of a lot to help yerself gain it, either."

Kozik struggled to control his temper. 'I'm not used to dealin' with independent, authoritative women like her. A guy knows what to expect from croweaters; if they don't toe the line, you smack 'em around. I can't do that, if Tig doesn't kill me, the rest of SAMCRO will!'

Cat knew Kozik was battling his temper, but she wasn't afraid of him. She was tired, annoyed, and in a pain. She had to concentrate to keep the hand holding her gun from shaking.

She took another deep drag from her cigarillo, taking comfort in the presence of the digital recorder. 'Alex will want to hear whatever this asshole thinks is important enough to risk comin' out here at this time of night.'

She exhaled smoke through her nose and stared across the porch at her unwelcome visitor. "I'd ask if a cat's got your tongue, but don't wanna give y'all the wrong impression," she growled. "Let's cut to the chase, Kozik. You wanna return to SAMCRO, and we both know Tig won't agree to it."

Kozik's eyes widened in shock. 'Shit! How'd she know?' Then he remembered Chuckie's not so discreet cough outside the funeral home. 'She overheard me talkin' to Clay!' He flushed under her fierce stare and shrugged.

"I didn't come here to ask ya to help change his mind if that's what you're thinkin'!" Kozik protested lamely.

"From where I sit, you wearin' a SAMCRO patch is a losin' venture. But that is the reason you risked comin' here in the dead of night, isn't it?"

"No! Just thought you might be more friendly after ya found out I followed your suggestion."

"That could've waited for a more reasonable hour of the day! C'mon, Kozik! Surely you can come up with a better story than that!"

"Well, Tig's away, and you just got outta the hospital! I knocked ya pretty hard to the ground earlier, and I just wanted to make sure you were OK!" Kozik winced at the bald faced lie. He wasn't convinced by it, and he could tell she wasn't buying it.

"You are such a liar, Kozik! Y'all wouldn't know the truth if it wore a name tag! You're up to somethin' and knowin' y'all, it's not gonna be anything good for Tig!"

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he scowled.

"You're pretty damn good at revisin' history, Kozik. When y'all told me that story about Tig, you left out a big part of the story; the part about your involvement in Missy's death," she explained coldly.

Kozik's shoulders slumped. "I didn't think he'd ever share that with anyone!"

"That's yer problem; y'all don't think. You've had it in for Tig for a long time, wantin' him to feel the same way you felt. Well, he has, every day for the last eight years!"

Cat's contempt for the man increased with every passing second. "Y'all wanted to rub salt in his wounds by tellin' tales and makin' me run. Y'all failed big time. Just like you're gonna fail at patchin' back in to SAMCRO!"

Kozik felt his hopes of returning to Charming begin to deflate like a balloon with a small hole in it. His hands started to fall to his sides, but he held them back out at Cat's gesture with the gun.

"Get outta here, Kozik," she snarled coldly. "Y'all have nothin' to say that I have any interest in hearin'. Rest assured, Tig is gonna hear all about this visit, and that will make him less likely to vote in favor of your transfer!"

Kozik started to protest but her angry, closed expression made him think better of it. He moved slowly away from the railing, not wanting to make any move that she might take as an attack. He kept his arms held out to his sides as he backed to the edge of the porch, never dropping eye contact with her.

She grinned as she watched him. "I might be an asshole, but I haven't shot anyone in the back – yet. Besides, our friends across the street would have my ass in a sling as soon as I fire."

"What do you mean?"

Cat rolled her eye. "Jesus! You're blinder than I am! Take a good look at that van over yonder. Them's the Feds, hopin' to find out where Tig is. I might be a woman, but not dumb enough to draw their attention by shootin' y'all, no matter how temptin' it is! Now turn around so y'all can see where you're goin'."

Kozik complied and stepped out onto the driveway. He walked to his bike, strapped on his helmet, and backed the Harley down the drive. Before he started it, he took a good look at the van she'd pointed out to him. The silver window covering was a dead giveaway. 'Damn! Never even noticed it earlier! No wonder Tig hooked up with her!'

He started the bike and drove slowly away. He couldn't help the sense of admiration he felt for Cat Marshall. 'That wasn't productive at all. I would've been better off stayin' put at the clubhouse. The shit's gonna hit the fan when Clay finds out. Bet she's prolly callin' him right now!'

Cat waited until the Harley's engine faded in the distance to lower the gun to her lap. She sighed tiredly, then picked up the two – way and pressed the speed dial. 'No way am I waitin' til mornin' to tell Alex about this!'

"Turned it off so soon? Damn!" She groaned at the sound of his voice mail greeting, but kept her voice light as she left her message.

"Hey, love! Call me as soon as you get this message. Kozik just left. No shots were traded, but you might wanna hear the conversation. I've got it on tape."

She slid off the railing and limped into the house, locking the door after her. She made a check of the doors and windows, made sure the cats had been fed, then walked past the closed library door, where June was sound asleep. 'I might need to cop a ride with her tomorrow mornin' if this pain don't let up.'

She trudged into the bedroom, put her phones on the chargers and lay down on the bed, waiting for a call back. 'Hope Alex doesn't wait until morning to check for messages."

Though she fought to stay awake, she was soon sound asleep. Three furry bodies curled up along her side, their purrs blending harmoniously with her light snores.

Kozik headed back to the SAMCRO clubhouse, hoping that despite the late hour, Clay would be there instead of at his home. Another part of him hoped Clay would be home instead of at the clubhouse.

'With my luck, he'll be there. With Gemma on the lam, he'd want to be anywhere but home. Might as well go ahead and 'fess up, take my lumps and get it over with.'

He pulled into the Teller – Morrow lot and parked at the far end of the row near the clubhouse. He noted with both relief and disgust that Clay's bike was also parked there.

He found members of SAMCRO and other charters spread throughout the clubhouse. The men were either playing pool or making out with croweaters.

Kozik found Clay standing at the bar, nursing a beer. Kozik walked up to him. "I gotta talk to you. Privately."

"Step into my office," Clay replied, indicating the chapel. 'Now what?' The two men stood in front of the closed blinds. "Why do I have a feelin' I'm not gonna like this?" Clay asked gruffly.

'Sounds like Clay doesn't know yet. Score one for my side.' Kozik raised his eyes to meet Clay's cold one. "I just came back from Tig's house."

Clay scrubbed his face with his hand. "Please tell me you're jokin'!"

"I'm not. His old lady knows I wanna return to SAMCRO. Guess we shouldn't have been discussin' it in public."

"Are you normally this stupid, or do you work overtime at it?" Clay glared at the Tacoma rider. "I knew she was listenin' in. I wanted her to hear us so she'd give Tig the intel tonight. I'd hoped that the sooner he knew of your intent, the sooner I'd get him to agree to the idea. Thanks to you, that ain't gonna happen."

"I'm sorry, Clay," Kozik muttered.

Clay slammed his palm against the wall. "What the fuck were you thinkin' of, goin' out alone to talk to Cat after what you pulled at the hospital?"

"I didn't know she overheard us; thought she might help change Tig's mind about me if she found out I'm not the asshole she thinks I am!"

Clay glared furiously at Kozik. "Man, you need to get yourself an old lady and quit messin' with Croweaters! Old ladies like Cat don't influence their men, they support 'em! This kind of problem is somethin' I don't need right now! If the club wasn't hurtin' for manpower, I'd throw ya outta here!"

Kozik shrugged his shoulders. "I said I was sorry, Clay. What more can I do?"

"You can get the Hell outta my sight. I need to think."

Kozik turned and walked dejectedly out of the chapel. 'I might've just kissed my future goodbye.' He walked to the bar and tersely ordered a whiskey from the croweater. Though he knew the hangover would be a real bitch, he intended to drink himself into an unfeeling state.

Alex lay alone on the bed in the room assigned to him, staring at the ceiling. He was all wound up about the drive – by and Cat's attempt to take out the van involved, but he wasn't interested in sneaking into Amelia's room to settle down. He missed Cat too much at the moment to bother with a piece of road tail.

'Amazing how alike Gemma and Cat are. Both are headstrong and dive right in without lookin' or thinkin' about what might happen. They're as annoying as Hell with their independent streaks, but both are the type of woman you want at your side when the chips are down. Damn glad Cat's on my side!'

He reached out to pick up the two – way that was lying on the bedside table. He'd turned both phones off to charge them. 'Think I'll give Cat a call and say good night. I'll feel better, maybe more able to relax and sleep.'

The two – way vibrated when he turned it on. His heart leapt in his throat for a moment, fearing that Kozik's tackle might've caused her a new injury or aggravated the existing ones.

'Only one way to find out what's goin' on,' he

mused, pressing the voice mail button. He sighed with relief to hear her message, erased it, and pressed the 'send' button.

The two – way's ring startled her from a sound sleep. Cat reached out and snagged the phone, holding it to her ear. "Hey, love!" She sighed sleepily.

"Hey, back. Sorry to call so late, baby. What the fuck did Kozik want?"

"Hang on, lemme get the recorder out," she replied through a yawn. He could imagine her running a hand through her hair as she worked to get her bearings.

"Watcha wearin', baby?" he asked wolfishly.

"My day clothes. Fell asleep waitin' for ya to call," she quipped.

"Doesn't sound very sexy to me," he replied in a disappointed tone of voice. "You coulda lied and said your birthday suit."

"Sorry, love. My brain's still asleep. Give this a listen," she held the tape player's speaker up to the phone and hit play.

Alex listened intently to the brief conversation she'd had with Kozik. He smiled at the gutsy way she's talked back to Kozik and gotten the drop on him.

"What suggestion is he talkin' about, baby?"

"When he came to visit me in the hospital and told me about the bike wreck, I told him he needed to read the news and police reports, instead of clingin' to inaccurate intel. Not that it makes any difference now, especially -" she broke off, unwilling to remind him of the other loss that had deeply wounded him.

"It's a'right, baby," Alex whispered. "You're right; it doesn't undo anything. I've never told ya how much it means that you understand my feelin's on that."

"How can I put y'all down for somethin' I experience as well?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, but you don't dwell on it every day," he countered.

"Alex, love, people handle loss different ways. You should know that by now."

'I gotta change the subject before I lose it,' he thought, clearing his throat around a sudden lump of emotion. "So how's the reunion with June going?"

"Pretty good. She's busy most of the day, but we have breakfast and cawfee together before she leaves for work. She's changed the bandage over my eye a couple of times. We've had ourselves quite a gossip fest last night."

"Wondered why my ears were burning," he laughed.

"Huh! Only someone with an ego the size of yours would think he's the topic of conversation!" she replied haughtily. "There are other topics of interest besides your illustrious self!"

"Woman, you wound me to the core!"

"Good!"

His hand brushed the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, woman! Have a heart!"

"I do, love, and you own it," she replied softly.

"Damn straight. You handled Kozik well, baby. Liked that bit about the cut not automatically earnin' him your respect. Just be careful about tauntin' him about his brains."

"Just callin' 'em as I see 'em, love!"

Alex laughed again. "True, but he'll only take so much shit from a woman, baby. I don't trust him, and I don't like the idea of him tryin' to use you as a way to get me to agree to let him patch in."

Cat huffed in aggravation. "I'm not exactly happy that he thinks I've pussy whipped y'all!"

"Well said, baby! You gonna tell Clay about his visit?"

"Tomorrow mornin', love. Wanted to tell you first so you'd hear it straight from me."

"Did ya get hurt when Kozik knocked you down?" He could hear the pain in her in her voice, and knew she was struggling to keep him from hearing it. 'I might mop the floor with him anyway next time I see him!'

"I'm not made of glass, love! I'll probably feel a little stiffer than usual come mornin', but no lastin' harm done."

"Why don't ya soak in the whirlpool? Might do ya some good."

"Y'all, my love, just wanna think me of bein' nekkid! You're a sex fiend!" she laughed.

"You just now findin' that out? Would you rather I imagined some other chick nekkid?"

"Nope. Would you believe you woke me from an impure dream about y'all?"

He grinned at the idea. "Just how impure was it?"

She laughed outright. The sound lifted his soul. "Very impure. Too hot for the cellular airwaves."

"What the Hell brought it on? You don't like watchin' porn!"

"Probably because June and I were tellin' tales of our days of molestin' our men in their sleep."

"You've never molested me in my sleep!" he protested.

"That's cause y'all usually wear my ass out with your own molestation!" she retorted. "Tell ya what, when y'all get back, I'll be happy to put my dream into practice on ya!"

"Wish I was there right now!" he growled.

"Wish y'all were, too. Think I'll take yer advice about the whirlpool. While I'd like to take y'all with me, phones and water don't mix, and we gotta end this anyway."

"Yeah, but at least I've got a nice picture in my head to go to sleep on!" he replied with a bit of roguishness.

"I'll bet y'all do. Talk to y'all later, love." She pressed the 'end' button, leaving him listening to nothing but dead air.

Alex smiled and turned off the two – way, returning it to the bedside table. He laced his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling while he pictured her sitting nekkid in the whirlpool bath. A few moments later, he was sound asleep.

Cat placed the two – way back on the bed table and plugged the charging unit into it. 'A soak in the whirlpool sounds like a good idea. Will definitely ease some of the inevitable soreness.'

She slid off the bed and walked into the bathroom to turn on the water to the tub. While it filled, she removed her outfit, checking to see if it was still wearable for the service.

She grimaced at the dirt and bloodstains ingrained in the fabric of her velour shirt. Her black cords were also filthy from Kozik's tackle. 'Shit! I'll have to come up with a new outfit for tomorrow. Damn you, Kozik!' She threw the garments in the laundry hamper and padded back into the bathroom.

She stood in front of the mirror, taking inventory of the bruises and cuts on her chest and face. She used a hand mirror to check her left side, relieved that the stitches hadn't burst from the impact.

She was concerned to find the beginnings of new bruising along that side. 'Must've happened when Kozik knocked me to the sidewalk.'

"So that's why I've been feelin' tender there!" she moaned. "That's really gonna hurt in the mornin'! Just hope he didn't knock anything loose!"

She turned turned off the faucets, setting the controls to a gentle massage before climbing into the heated water. She sighed with relief at the sensation. 'Wish Alex was here to enjoy with me!'

She leaned her head back against the padded side, being careful to keep her cast away from the water. 'Forgot to wrap the damn thing, and too fuckin' comfortable to get out and attend to it!' She allowed her thoughts to return to that first day she'd spent with Alex, and she'd learned about Missy.

They'd gone for a ride in the PT, out into the country where they didn't have to worry about rival motorcycle clubs or anything else. Alex drove the PT with the same ease and skill that he gave to his bike, finding that the PT wasn't as awkward as the garage's van or tow trucks.

They had stopped at a lake Cat liked. It reminded her of the 'crick' that had bordered her paternal grandparents' farm in Southern Indiana, except it was deeper and clearer.

They'd not taken the fishing gear or swimsuits, and Cat had initially felt self conscious about the idea of skinny dipping.

"C'mon, baby! It's just us, the birds, and whatever airplanes might pass overhead!" Alex had cajoled with a roguish grin. "It's hot, the water'll be cool, and it's a shame to waste the setting! Didn't ya ever skinny dip back in Indiana?"

"Hell yes, often on my own, but not with a frackin' audience!" she retorted.

"I'm not an audience, for fuck's sake! It ain't like I've not already seen what ya got, baby! I've seen your package, several times. I like it."

She grinned up at him. "Glad to hear it, was really afraid y'all would run off when ya saw the 'real me'."

He frowned down at her. "I wish you would stop talkin' that shit!"

"It's kinda hard not to be aware that I'm not built like the porn stars, love. There's a lotta mileage on this old chassis," she replied ruefully.

"Get this straight in your head, woman," he growled, his hands framing her face to force her to meet his steely blue gaze. "I happen to like the older models, they're built sturdy and comfortable."

"Gee, thanks!" her green eyes blazed fire at him.

"Lemme finish! I like your build, baby. You've got all the right curves, and you've got meat on your bones. I don't hafta worry about breakin' your bones or gettin' poked by 'em, either!"

She continued to glare at him. "Brother! I feel so-o-o much better!"

His hands caressed the skin of her cheeks, drawing her face towards his. He rested his forehead against hers. "Maybe I'm sayin' this the wrong way, baby. Porn stars are fine in a sprint, but they're not built for the long haul. I prefer your body. You're like an endurance racer, a thoroughbred. . .aw shit! I give up!" He sighed in resignation, frustrated that he couldn't find the words to properly express his appreciation of her body.

Cat's gaze softened as her hands reached up to his own face. She pressed a light kiss against his lips. "It's OK, love. I get your drift. Kinda like the words in 'Bat Out of Hell: I was built for comfort, I wasn't built for speed'.

He grinned at her, "I don't think that's the right words, but I ain't gonna argue with ya!"

She leaped to her feet and ran towards the water. "Last one in's a rotten egg!" she laughed.

"Why you rotten little imp!" He yelled, leaping up and racing after her.

She lost no time in running into the supposed safety of the clear lake water, cringing at it's chill. She took a deep breath and submerged herself, hoping to find a hiding place from his threatened retribution.

Before she knew it, strong hands grasped her waist and forced her to the surface, splashing water all around them. She laughed and shrieked at him, daringly splashing water at his face.

"Oh, ya wanna play that way, eh?" he growled, splashing water back at her,

"Watcha gonna do about it, stud?" she replied with a growl of her own. Her green eyes were twinkling with mischief as she continued to splash him and floated away from him.

He leered at her, waggling his eyebrows menacingly. "Need I remind you that I served in the Marines, baby? A man can learn a lot of underwater maneuvers!"

Alex dived under the water, swimming stealthily towards her as she laughed again and backpedaled away towards the center of the lake.

Cat treaded water, looking all around her at the suddenly quiet area. The birds still sang, but there was no sign of Alex. The only ripples in the water seemed to come from her waving arms. She peered into the water, hoping to see him, but without her glasses, everything was a blur.

"Alex? This isn't fun!" she called warningly. "C'mon up, for cryin' out loud!"

Birdsong met her demand, but there was no sign of Alex.

"C'mon, love! You're worryin' me!" She stopped treading, allowing the water and her own inability to sink to hold her upright. There was still no sound except for the birds, and her own harsh breathing.

"Dammit! If I have to go get my glasses to find your ass, I will!" As she turned to shore, she felt something brush against her thigh. Her hand broke the surface to swipe at whatever had touched her, only to touch the cold water.

She gathered herself to start swimming to shore when she felt something brush against her again, this time along the back of her leg. "Damn fish! I'm not a worm!"

Cat squealed as a part of hands grabbed her legs and pulled her against a wet, hard body. "No, you're not a worm, but I've got a one eyed snake just waitin' for ya, baby!" Alex whispered in her ear, his teeth nipping the lobe.

"You are incorrigible!" she hissed, laughing in relief that he'd surfaced. "You had me worried for y'all!"

"Glad to know ya care, baby," he sighed, fitting her to him and moving slowly towards shallow water. "This is what I'm talkin' about. Porn gals don't go for this kinda shit. You like to play, and you really like to play with me!"

Cat wrapped her arms around his neck while her legs went around his waist. "Yes, I certainly do!"

They'd returned to the house late in the afternoon, and Alex had settled into one of the chairs in the back yard, as he liked the smoke – free atmosphere of her house.

"I like the way it smells. Clean. No alcohol, smoke, old food, sex. It smells like a home should smell. Wanna keep it that way," he explained as he stretched out in the lawn chair and lit his smoke. "Think I'll just come outside to smoke whenever I'm here."

"Ok. I'll go see about some supper. I'm sure you're hungry after that workout!" she replied, entering the house through the back yard.

'I am, baby. And I am definitely gonna keep this place a safe haven, for both of us!' he thought, inhaling deeply on his cigarette and letting the smoke out through his nose.

He waited until he heard the door shut behind her before withdrawing his wallet from his back pocket. He reached inside and withdrew a photo. The back was turned to him, the lettering 'my girl Missy' was printed on the white paper.

He turned it over and gazed sadly at the photo of him lying on a sofa with Missy on top of him. Her golden hair caught the light, her brown eyes gazing adoringly at him.

"Hey, baby," he crooned softly. "Betcha thought I forgot about ya today. No way." His fingers caressed Missy's body in the picture, he could almost feel the way she'd felt against him.

"Guess ya know I've hooked up with a lady, Missy. She's a decent person. Somethin' I need. She's a rider, and she likes animals. Course, she has cats, and I know how ya feel about them. But don't worry, baby. She ain't you. She's different. I think ya'd like her."

He gazed sadly at the picture, remembering his too short time with Missy, and the sudden way she'd been taken from him. He was so engrossed in his memories that he didn't sense Cat coming up behind him until her arms went around his neck from behind the chair.

She'd fixed a meal for them and gone to the back door to call to him that it was ready. She saw him hunkered over in the lawn chair, holding his head in one hand.

'God, I hope he's all right!' She slipped out the back door and quietly closed it after her, walking softly across the lawn until she was standing behind him and could see the contents of the picture he held tightly in his other hand, which shook a bit.

"I miss ya, baby," he crooned softly, unaware of her presence.

She could tell the picture was years' old, as Alex looked younger in it. She had no idea whether the picture was taken in Charming or elsewhere. He wasn't wearing his cut or black, but a pair of bluejeans and a red shirt. A young German shepherd lay on top of him.

"What a beautiful shepherd!' she breathed admiringly, slipping her arms around his neck. "Was she yours?"

"What's it to ya?" he snarled, stiffening in her embrace and holding the picture protectively to his chest.

Alex's response didn't scare her. 'He's the type of man who doesn't feel comfortable bein' caught with his guard down,' she mused, kissing his cheek and moving around to face him.

She didn't snap a response like she might've done to someone else issuing such a verbal challenge to her. "You obviously loved her a lot. She is a girl, I take it. And that's something I can understand, love. Animals don't care what you do or what you look like. They just give unconditional love. Humans don't often do likewise."

'Some humans definitely don't do that,' he thought warily, still watching her guardedly. 'I know she loves animals, she's crazy about her cats. But no one understands why I've mourned my girl all this time! I don't think she'd understand!' He nodded to indicate she'd guessed the sex of the dog correctly.

Cat returned his gaze without flinching. "How long has it been since she crossed?"

"What the fuck do you mean, crossed?" he growled.

"When a pet dies, people refer to it as 'crossing the rainbow bridge'," she explained. "It's what I believe happens, that their souls go to a special place. When we die, all the pets that have gone on ahead of us are there to meet us in the next life."

Alex remained silent, glaring intently, searching her face for any signs of mockery on her part. He found conviction and honesty in her expression. 'It sounds so simple, but she really seems to believe that. Course, that won't keep her from tellin' me what everybody else says when they find out how long it's been. Don't think I could handle hearin' her tellin' me to 'get over it'.'

Not understanding the reason for his continued silence, Cat shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, I know, I oughta grow up and not believe in fairy tales. Tough shit. It's my belief, whether you wanna share it or not!" she stated defiantly.

A slight smile tugged at his lips. She was standing with her feet spread slightly apart and her fists against her hips, a classic 'I dare ya' pose if he'd ever seen one. "I didn't say a word, baby. Believe what ya wanna believe."

"I intend to!" she retorted. "I don't need your permission and don't recall askin' for it in the first place! If ya wanna moon over a lost pet, that's your privilege!"

"Damn! She's one feisty little cat! Won't back down for nothin'. I like that about her!' he thought admiringly, that same small smile on his face.

Cat took a deep breath, forcing her temper under control. "You're really makin' it tough for me not to be irked at ya when y'all grin at me like the cat that ate the canary!"

He pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her, nuzzling her neck for a moment. "I'm sorry, baby. You just looked kinda cute standin' all defiant like that. You aren't scared of me at all, are ya?"

"Nope. Never have been," she replied. "And I resent bein' called 'cute'. I don't do 'cute'." She gently took the picture out of his hand and gazed at it. "Could you tell me when you lost her?"

Alex sighed and leaned his cheek against her shoulder, gazing at the picture again. "I lost Missy eight years ago, Cat. I know ya prolly think that she's 'just a dog' and I should get over it. But I can't! It hurts as much now as it did the day she died!"

He waited for her to laugh at him. His arms stiffened and he held his breath.

To his surprise, she did neither. Instead, she stood up and pulled him up to stand beside her. "Come with me, love. There's somethin' you need to see." She laced her fingers with his, guiding him into the house and then into the office.

Cat pointed to the wall over the writing desk. A large sculpture of a cat with wings and a halo hung on the wall over the desk. Underneath the sculpture was a large gold frame holding a picture that had obviously been cut from a catalog.

The picture was of a drawing of a group of cats wearing wings and halos standing in a gate resting on a cloud. Cartoon speech balloons contained various phrases of welcome. Above the picture he read the words 'Heaven's Welcoming Committee'. Under the picture was written the phrase, 'All the cats you've ever loved and lost will be waiting for you.'

"This is why I don't think you're off base for missin' your girl every day since she died," Cat stated softly, moving to stand in front of the wall. Her hand rested on a framed picture of a brown colored cat with yellow eyes.

"This was Koki. So named because she was the color of cola – and when I was little, I called the drink 'koki'. She was the first cat I had when I left home decades ago. She died after bein' spayed because the anesthesia reacted to some ant poison she'd ingested. She was less than a year old when she died."

Alex gazed at the array of pictures, each frame held a picture of a different cat. Most were black, but there was an occasional Siamese or grey striped cat peering out at him. There was also a picture of a small brown and white spaniel. Each frame and picture had the name and years of life printed on it.

"I still miss Koki to this day. Not a day goes by that I don't miss each of my furbabies that have 'crossed over'. The anniversaries of their deaths are the hardest," she continued in the same soft voice.

"A little piece of my heart died with them, just as a piece of my heart died with Bill. Even if someone else enters your life, the empty place is always there. Most mundanes don't understand that, they tell ya to get over it, cause it was 'just an animal'!"

Tears blurred her vision, so that she couldn't tell whether she'd offended Alex by sharing her deepest sorrow with him or not. At the moment, she didn't care. A lone tear leaked from the corner of her eye to slide down her cheek. "Today happens to be one of those days for me."

Alex saw the sudden brightness in her eyes behind her glasses, making her eyes appear like green jewels. When the tear slid down her cheek, he reached out to touch it, wiping it away with the pad of his thumb.

'She's crying, for both of our losses!' he thought to himself, holding her face in his hands to gaze intently into her eyes. 'She really understands!'

The discovery shocked and awed him. 'No one's ever bothered to understand – much less accept - why I still mourn for Missy. She's the only person who's never told me off for it.'

He gazed at her in wonder. Her eyes met his without flinching. There was honest emotion in them. Love and acceptance of him, flaws and all.

The last of his resistance to a long – term relationship with her melted away at that moment. He knew he'd found his refuge from the outside world at long last. For the first time in a long time, he felt a sense of peace.

She took a deep, steadying breath. "Anytime you're here and feel the need to talk with Missy, love, feel free to do so," she added softly. "I'm not gonna think any less of you."

Alex could only continue to stare intently at her. She'd given him an incredible gift and for the first time in his life, he was speechless with emotion. He finally whispered, "I'm here for ya, baby," and enfolded her in his arms, guiding her head to rest against his chest. He wanted to keep her close to him like that for as long as he could.