Charming Pawse From NS to Out Chapter X Full Circle

by wanderingchat

Cat's nemesis wreaks havoc causing Blaine's health to decline further. Enough evidence proves the divinity student, janitor, and her nemesis are the same person and Cat unleashes her SAMCHI and SAMROC guardians on him. Tig isn't pleased with her method of dealing with 'Brownie' until a more important event takes precedence.

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.

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

From NS to Out

Chapter X

Full Circle

"I trust everything is proceeding well with the new administrative wing to St. Thomas," Ethan Zobelle stated during his regular check in call with Jacob Hale.

Zobelle was one of several affluent members of LOAN that were 'silent investors' in the new wing of the hospital that would house offices for the staff doctors. The investors hid behind a charitable organization dedicated to providing much needed office and storage space to small town hospitals such as St. Thomas in Charming. The administration was more than happy to accept the help. It meant local jobs and no expenditure on the part of the hospital for the improvement.

"Everything is proceeding on schedule," Hale reported flatly. He'd given up trying to find whatever monitoring devices Zobelle had planted in his home. Every sweep had turned up negative. He fconsidered himself lucky if anything that he did in his own home didn't wind up on the internet. "The doctors should be able to move into their invidual offices in a few weeks."

"Excellent! And what progress have you made on that other project?"

'You tell me! You seem to know everything that's going on in my life anyway!' Hale thought angrily. "That's proving a little harder to get into motion," he admitted.

"I fail to understand the difficulty, Jacob," Zobelle intoned. "All you were asked to do is locate a front person to act in my stead to buy out Unser's trucking company."

"I've been talking to a major firm that's been wanting to buy Unser out for some time, but it's a delicate negotiation. Unser's not been very co – operative."

"Have him try again," Zobelle intoned. "I have reason to believe that he'll listen this time."

"How so?" Hale dared to ask.

"I have ways of learning things that I need to know," Zobelle replied tersely. "When you need to know I will share it with you."

Hale felt his gut freeze from the ice in Zobelle's response. He was scared of how the man would react to his next comment. 'But I've got to tell him!' Hale took a deep breath and plunged ahead by adding, "The owner asked me some questions that require clarification."

"I trust my name hasn't come up in the conversation," Zobelle intoned.

"No sir, though Mr. Winchester is a bit leery about having a silent partner involved in the acquisition."

"He has no reason to be reticent. He will have complete autonomy as long as he buys Unser out and insures our former police chief has no involvement in the business. Didn't you make that clear to him from the beginning?"

"No sir, I couldn't remember your instructions on that point," Hale admitted.

Zobelle was silent for a few minutes. Then he sighed heavily. "You disappoint me, Jacob. I made it very clear that I am only putting up the money for this venture. Need I repeat the rest of the instructions I gave you?"

"No sir!" Hale replied hastily. "I recall it all now!"

"See to it that you don't forget. I want defnite progress made on this matter by the time I call again."

"When will that be?" Hale inquired.

"When you least expect it," Zobelle replied.

The line went dead before Hale could form a reply. The longer his association with Zobelle lasted the more he felt like he'd made a deal with the Devil. 'Not that I can get out of it now! I'm stuck like a fly on fly paper!' He decided it would be prudent to contact Emerson Winchester right away and the ball rolling on the acquisition, just in case Zobelle called later that evening.

---

Cat waited quietly while the divinity student left the room and his footsteps receded down the hall. Cavey gave her a thumbs up to indicate 'Rev. Jones' had gotten on the elevator before he returned to the waiting room to sit with his brothers.

"It's him." Her father wheezed through the bi - pap mask. "The janitor from Vincennes!"

"It's worse than that, Daddy, I think that was 'Brownie'," she replied softly.

"So do I," he sighed.

"But I can't prove it to the doctor or the authorities. They won't accept my word for it. Besides, I could be wrong about this."

"Don't doubt yourself, honey. Your instincts have always been good where he's concerned," her father admonished.

"Then your memory must be more impaired than I thought!" She retorted wryly. "My instincts weren't always good about him. At least not at the beginning."

"What are we going to do, honey? They're keeping me sedated and he'll be able to do whatever he wants to me!"

"We can start with havin' the doctor rescind the sedation order. That will keep y'all alert."

"I don't know what good that will do," he sighed wearily. "I was awake yesterday, and he still managed to cause trouble!"

Cat laid her head on the bed next to her father's hand. "I've never felt more helpless in my life!" She moaned.

Her father raised his hand as far as the restraints allowed to place his hand on her head, stroking her hair in a comforting manner. "We'll figure it out, baby girl."

"There's not a lot I can do about tonight, except ask the medical people not to keep y'all sedated," she murmured. "But I can do a lot of research tomorrow to make sure he isn't what and who he claims to be."

"I'm really afraid he'll come back tonight and cause more mischief," Blaine admitted.

"So am I," she sighed. She sat up suddenly, her face lighting with excitement. "I just remembered something that might protect y'all!"

Her father gazed inquiringly at her. "What's that?"

"I'm goin' to ask for a nurse to be assigned to you tonight!" She exclaimed. "It's called a 'special' nurse. That way, you have someone in the room with you after I leave until the mornin' shift!'

She leapt from her chair and rushed out of the room before her father could reply. She presented her request to the nurse on duty, who looked at her as if she'd suddenly started speaking a foreign language.

"Is there a problem?" Cat growled.

"It's an unusual request, Mrs. Trager, and one I'm not sure we can accomodate due to the transition," the nurse explained.

"But it's not impossible, is it?"

"No - o-o -o, but it's not easy to arrange, either. We have to go through a registry to see if anyone is available, and it may not be covered by your father's insurance."

"Then I'll pay for the frackin' nurse!" Cat retorted. "And I also want to talk to the doctor about puttin' an end to the constant sedation!"

It took time, but the nurse was able to secure a 'special' nurse for the night. The nurse would handle all of Blaine's care during those 12 hours, assuring both the patient and his daughter that someone would be watching out for him through the night.

The on call doctor reluctantly agreed to Cat's request about the sedative. He was more willing to rescind the order once he learned of the 'special' that would be working that night.

"So you think hiring a 'special' will validate your father's claim?" The doctor asked.

"Since he and I both know he didn't tamper with his IV, I surely hope so!" Cat retorted.

"What if nothing happens tonight?" The doctor probed.

"Then you'll have proved your point, won't y'all?" She snorted. "Whether y'all like it or not, I'm goin' to have a 'special' attend to him each night until he's released."

"It's your money," the doctor muttered.

She didn't dignify the comment with a response. She returned to her father to inform him the 'special' nurse had been secured. "It's not foolproof, Daddy," she added.

"How so?"

"The nurse will have to leave the room for bathroom and meal breaks. I'd like to think 'Brownie' won't risk gettin' caught by tryin' to cause chaos in that short amount of time."

"There's no telling with someone like him, though," her father sighed.

"On the bright side, there's the chance that he won't show up now that my friends and I are back in town," she reminded him. She saw the lines of worry leave her father's face as if a giant invisible eraser had wiped them away.

'I hate givin' him false hope like this, but 'Brownie' doesn't give up easy once he set his mind to a goal. He would be more inclined to attempt more mayhem just to torment us. No sense burstin' Daddy's bubble of comfort,' she thought.

"Speaking of your friends, I think it's time to have a heart to heart talk about your life," her father stated. A hint of authority rang in his voice. "You've been holding out on me about Alex. He's an outlaw biker, and so are those friends that are guarding you."

---

'Brownie' sank against the back of the elevator car in relief when the doors closed. The bikers gathered in the second floor lounge hadn't tried to prevent him from leaving. In fact, except for the one that had been hanging around in the hallway when he visited Blaine Marshall, the bikers didn't seem to acknowledge his presence.

'I was worried about that one fucktard hangin' around the hallway. He looked like one of those outlaws. He never came to room, though. Guess none of 'em recognized me from yesterday's chicken game!' He grinned maliciously. 'Cat didn't seem concerned that her father was freakin' out, either! Likely the doctor convinced the bitch the old fuck's delusional from his illness! Naturally she'd swallow it whole. No matter how scared her father appeared of me, she just accepted me at face value. The prayer was a nice touch.'

He snorted in contempt at his one time benefactressr. 'She might've changed her looks, but she's still as dumb as a box of rocks!" He was overjoyed to have pulled the wool over her eyes once again. He was looking forward to tormenting the minister some more later that evening.

The elevator doors whoosed open and he stepped out of the car, intending to go to the room where he'd stashed his bag. He spied one of the bikers from the lobby card game loitering in the nearby hallway. 'Brownie' frowned slightly, wondering if they were tracking him. 'Shit! I should've known better! They recognized me after all!' He forced his features into a neutral expression as he approached the loitering biker. It aggravated him that he was having to walk away from his hiding place.

The man was tall and broad shouldered with a deep tan. He wore his hair closely cropped on his scalp. Several tattoos adorned his bare arms, which were crossed over his chest.

"Hello, son," the fake divinity student nodded pleasantly at the burly biker. "Were you waiting to talk to me?"

"Nah, just takin' a break from the game, preacher," the biker rumbled. "Needed to stretch my legs."

"You boys were really playing hard earlier," 'Brownie observed, heaving an inward sigh of relief that his cover hadn't been blown after all. "You must have a major tournament going on."

"Just a friendly game," the biker shrugged. "Mostly small stuff. The other guys are out havin' a smoke since we can't smoke indoors."

"What about you?"

"I gave it up for chaw," the biker grinned, hefting a cup as if in salute. "No laws against spittin' in one of these!"

'Brownie' winced in disgust. He smoked like a chimney, drank like a fish, shot up all manner of intravenous narcotics in his veins and stuffed an immeasurable amount of snuff and cocaine in his nose. Chewing tobacco was one habit he'd found too disgusting to take up. "I'll take your word for it," he muttered.

The biker's grin grew wider, revealing tobacco stained teeth. "It's an acquired taste," he admitted. He showed no inclination of moving from his spot.

'Maybe I celebrated too early. These guys are tricky! Looks like I'm gonna have to go out the front way after all!' He'd have to walk all the way around the hospital and use the employees' entrance. Undoubtedly the other bikers were outside to watch him. He mustered up a benign smile for the biker's benefit. "Good luck with your game, son. Have a blessed day."

"Be safe, padre," the biker rumbled.

'Brownie' and turned away from the biker, striding nonchalantly to the front entrance. 'I knew it!' He snarled to himself when he saw the small group of bikers gathered in the parking lot near a purple sedan surrounded by Harleys. He struggled to keep a friendly, unconcerned expression on his face as he approached the group, giving them a cordial nod of greeting.

The men watched him without speaking or acknowledging him

He felt their eyes on him as he continued on through the parking lot to the street corner.

"Hey Rev!" Called one of the bikers. "Aren't ya forgettin' somethin'?"

'Brownie' turned to gaze inquiringly at the group. "What do you mean?"

The biker gestured at the full lot around them. "Aren't ya forgettin' your car?"

"I don't have one, son," he replied simply. "I have to take the bus."

"Wanna ride?"

'Brownie' ached to get on the back of a bike, even if it meant riding 'bitch'. He knew that a few ministers owned bikes; there were even 'Christian' riding clubs throughout the state. As much as he wanted to take the outlaw up on the offer, he didn't want to 'bitch ride' with a man, much less one of Cat's friends. "Thank you, no," he sighed. "I'm a little scared of those monsters."

"Nothin' to be scared of preacher!" Another biker laughed. "It's no different from ridin' on the back of a bicycle, 'cept ya don't have to rely on the guy in front to pedal!"

"That's OK," he demurred with a friendly wave of his hand. "I'll leave the daredevil act to you guys." He turned and continued along the sidewalk to the roundabout, leaving the bikers in the parking lot. The walls of the hospital building would eventually block their line of sight, unless they moved to watch his progress.

'Brownie' used the ruse of checking both directions before crossing the street to glance back at the parking lot. None of the bikers were watching him so he turned left and raced down the sidewalk to the rear of the hospital. The SUV was parked there and he could hide out in its' safe confines until he felt it was safe to enter the hospital again.

The unexpected exertion made him pant for breath. He could feel sweat running down his back and limbs like a raging river. ''I'll really need a shower after this!' He thought irritably.

---

Cat felt her stomach fall to her feet at her father's announcement. "You know?" She gasped.

"I've known for some time," he admitted. "Your cousin Alan did a background check on Alex."

"Why in tarnation would he do that?" Cat growled angrily. 'We were so damn careful not to make anyone suspicious!'

"He was worried about your welfare, honey," Blaine explained wearily. "Turns out he checked Bill and every man you got involved with after 'Brownie'."

"Not that there were that many. So as soon as he found out about Alex's prison record, he just had to tell y'all and make you worry!" Cat snarled.

"I was never worried about you being with Alex after his criminal record came out," her father proclaimed. "It was easy to see how much he cares for you. Do you think I would've officiated that renewal ceremony if I had been worried?"

"I know y'all wouldn't," she admitted ruefully. "You'd probably had gotten Mom's gun outta the safe and run him off with it!"

"Hardly," Blaine winced. His wife had a gun permit and had kept a .38 caliber revolver in the china cabinet for many years. He locked the gun in his safe when she was diagnosed with Altzheimer's. "But he and I would've had a 'come to Jesus' meeting!"

"Is that what we're havin' now?"

Blaine sighed and squeezed her hand. "In a way. I want to know why you felt it necessary to revise history."

Cat sighed and sank back against the chair as if looking for a source of support. "Because I didn't want to add to your burden," she explained softly.

"Why on earth would you think it'd be a burden on me?"

"Well, there's you constant bouts of stomach distress and weakness, plus Mom's condition, and what my birth mother put y'all through, and because of 'Brownie'," she admitted.

"And what else?" He prompted when she fell silent.

"Y'all have already gone through so much that I didn't feel it was fair to add one more item to your prayer concern list."

"Did you fear I'd turn away from you again?" Blaine inquired softly.

Cat flushed and lowered her eyes for a moment. When she raised them to meet her father's gaze, he could see the pain mirrored in them. "It did cross my mind, but it wasn't the mitigating factor. It's not like I out and out lied about it!"

"No, you didn't lie, but you definitely stretched the truth pretty thin in a few places," her father wheezed ruefully. "As far as those friends of his, it stands to reason that if Alex is an outlaw, they're outlaws as well."

"Yes, they are, but I don't consider 'em outlaws, Daddy. No more than I see a criminal in Alex," she explained passionately.

"You get that from me," he replied, thinking sorrowfully of the potential he saw in Cat's birth mother many decades ago. He'd hoped to bring the woman out of her shell, so she could become the vibrant, outgoing woman he'd perceived her to be. "I hope it doesn't result in similar unhappiness for you."

"Alex served his country with honor in the Marines, and he does work at the garage!" she added defensively. "The club is his side line and he's loyal to it. But he's also loyal to his daughters and to me. He takes good care of me when I let him."

'I imagine he has quite a challenge there!' Blaine grinned to himself. His daughter was self sufficient and stubbornly independent, choosing to take care of matters on her own terms instead of waiting for someone else to do it for her. "You don't have to defend him to me sweetheart," he assured her.

"I feel like I've let y'all down, Daddy," she replied, her voice thick with emotion.

"No, honey. You've not let me down," he informed her softly, squeezing her hand again to empathize his reassurance. "I do fear you might fall into that lifestyle, but I pray that he's attracted to you because you're not part of that life."

"I don't intend to be, Daddy," she assured him.

"You know what is said about good intentions, honey."

"Yeah, but I'll probably be in good company," she retorted.

"I hope not," he sighed, closing his eyes in fatigue. The encounter with 'Brownie' had exhausted him, as had the conversation with his daughter. He felt good about getting the truth out in the open and discussing it with her. He decided not to tell her the protections he'd put in place for her in his will. 'Talking about that will just upset her, and she's got enough to deal with as it is. She'll find out about it when the time comes.'

Unaware of the path her father's thoughts were taking, Cat murmured, "I hope this doesn't change your feelings about Alex."

"All I've ever witnessed has been his good side, honey," her father replied wearily, opening his eyes again to gaze intently at her. "I talked to him every night after you were injured. The night you were hurt, he let me pray over the phone for you. I love him as much as I loved Bill. That won't change, unless he drags you into the valley of darkness or otherwise hurts you."

"Does that mean you've had a change of heart about Dawn?"

"Have you?" He countered.

"I still care about her, but it's goin' to be a cold day in Hell before I trust her again," she admitted.

"I'm disappointed in her, just as you are. She's still your step - child, so she's still my step - grandchild. I'll always care about her, and keep her in my prayers."

"Forgivin' is easy, but forgettin' is hard!" She remarked. "It's goin' to be awhile before I lose the urge to throttle Alan!"

"Don't be too upset with him," her father added. "He didn't tell me out of spite."

"I know," Cat sighed resignedly. "I just wish he'd let me be the one to tell you once you were strong enough to deal with it."

"That's why he told me," her father smiled. "You'd never have considered me strong enough."

"You're right," She admitted with a wry grin.

"The cat would've come out of the bag anyway the night of the Peace Rally, thanks to that podcast," her father added.

"But you don't have internet!" Cat protested.

"Your brother was home the night of the event and brought me over to his house to watch it on his computer. Alex and the other club members were wearing their vests for all the world to see."

"Oye vay!" Cat smacked the side of her head with the heel of her hand. "I forgot all about the podcast!"

"I'm afraid out side of the family - including your brothers - know about Alex's background," her father added. "I made them swear not to say anything to you about it until I had a chance to talk to you. Now I've got to ask the question that's been bothering me about that wreck."

"Neither Alex nor the club had anything to do with it!" Cat stated. "That white separationist group didn't like the Rally, and took it upon themselves to show me how they felt about it."

Her father gave her a disbelieving look. 'That sounds a lot like what Alex told me, but she could just be saying what I want to hear!'

"I know what you're thinkin', Daddy, and this is one time that I'm not doin' any history revampin'!" She exclaimed. "It's not the first time that my work has put me in the danger zone, and it probably won't be the last!"

"True," he sighed. He recalled several times when she'd worked as a reporter that her coverage of events had resulted in harassment and outright threats for her. "I just had to be sure."

"I understand, Daddy, and glad y'all haven't had a change of heart about Alex."

"With 'Brownie' haunting us, I'm just as glad you have some protection from his fellow outlaws," he admitted. "If Alex entrusted your safety to them, I know you're in good hands."

It was the highest praise her father could give without giving full acceptance to the outlaw lifestyle. "I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, honey," he replied just before he fell into an exhausted sleep.

---

Tig shook his head as he walked away from the pay phone bank, hands thrust deep in his pockets. His wife had just learned from his wife about Blaine's set back during her absence from the hospital. That was upsetting enough, but the additional intel Cat shared with him had him frustrated and angry.

"It's the same thing that happened to him at Vincennes, love. He told 'em that a visitin' divinity student did the tamperin' but the medical staff don't believe him," she reported.

"Why the Hell not?" He growled.

"They think he's delusional because of the infection," she explained.

"What about the report from the Vincennes hospital about that same shit happenin' there?" Alex inquired.

"They were usin' that as an excuse to keep him under sedation," she sighed. "That's no longer happenin'."

"I don't doubt that," he replied with a knowing grin. He could imagine how much fur flew when his wife found out about those orders! He also had a feeling that she was holding herself responsible for it. "Please don't tell me you're feelin' guilty for bein' gone!"

"I can't lie to y'all, love," she admitted. "I do." Before he could protest, she added, "But I keep remindin' myself Daddy insisted. It helps a bit."

"It better. Ya had no way of knowin' that anyone would try to harm him!"

"Oh, please! How can y'all say that considerin' all the precautions we took for my welfare in case 'Brownie' showed up? I should've considered the possibility that he might take after Daddy, too!" she snorted.

"You didn't know that would happen, baby! Besides, your father told ya to go have a little fun," Alex pointed out.

"That's easy for y'all to say, love!" Cat retorted. "I should've been a lot more diligent about Daddy's welfare!"

"I'm not gonna argue with ya long distance," he growled. "But I can tell there's more to this story than you're tellin'. Spill."

"I suspect that the 'janitor' in Vincennes and the 'divinity student' that paid him a visit may be the same person. I suspect it's 'Brownie'."

Alex was so shocked that he dropped the receiver. It swung from the metal cord holding it to the pay phone while he fought off a sudden bout of nausea. "Are ya sure?" He asked when he retrieved the receiver.

"No. It's a gut reaction," she admitted.

"I just had one of those myself!" Alex muttered. "How can ya be sure it was him just from talkin' to your father?"

"The 'divinity student' came back today and offered to pray for Daddy at the end of his visit. When we joined hands, it felt like my spine turned to ice. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up," she explained. "That's always been a warnin' sign for me."

"Unlike the warm, tingly feelin' ya get when I touch ya!" He quipped in an attempt to lighten her mood.

"Very different," she assured him. "The thing is, that's not enough proof for the idiots in charge."

"It's enough for the charters!" Alex snorted.

"That may be, but I can't and won't turn 'em loose on him until I'm certain," Cat explained.

"Are ya crazy, woman?" Alex growled. "That's no reason to keep the charters from takin' out that asshat!"

"What if I'm wrong, love?"

"Hell! Your instincts are tellin' ya it's him, that's good enough!"

"But if the guy is exactly what he says he is, an innocent party gets hurt!" She cried. "I couldn't live with myself for that!"

"Shit!" Alex sighed in exasperation. He couldn't argue with her there. He still experienced occasional nightmares from accidentally killing Donna. As much as he knew his wife despised and feared 'Brownie', she was too kind-hearted to accept a mistake like that as a necessary evil.

"I've disappointed y'all," she whispered sadly. "Seems like I'm lettin' down all the important men in my life today."

"No, baby," he replied as softly. "I can never be disappointed in ya. I just wish ya were a little more hard-shelled at times. I'm sure Blaine said the same thing."

"I'm not sayin' the words. Let's just y'all are red-hot, love," she grumbled.

"Tell me somethin' I don't already know," he snorted. "Are ya plannin' to check out this jackasses' story?"

"Does Kellogg's make corn flakes?"

"Good girl," he sighed in obvious relief.

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence!" She complained.

"Ya just had me worried for a minute, baby," he assured her.

"Just makin' sure y'all were still mentally sharp, love!"

"Bullshit!" He growled. "At least ya got some fun in before the shit hit the fan!"

"True. I had a lot of fun Saturday," she reported.

He frowned intently again. Her tone of voice didn't match the congenital words. Something was wrong and he suspected it had nothing to do with 'Brownie'. "Anything else goin' on I should know about?"

"I arranged for a 'special' nurse to sit with Daddy tonight, and every night until he's able to go home," she stated. She tried to keep her voice light, but couldn't keep a note of melancholy out of it.

"That's a good idea, baby." He didn't like that sad note in her voice. He knew something was weighing on her mind. "Anything else botherin' ya?"

"No," she assured him. "Just that the guys are goin' to be upset when they learn about the fake minister's identity."

"You'll get 'em to see reason," he replied soothingly. "After all, ya convinced me!"

"I hope so, love. If they're anything like y'all, it'll be an uphill battle," she quipped.

"Watch it, woman! You're rackin' up the points!" He growled in mock warning.

Instead of the usual snarky quip, a heavy silence fell between them. "OK, baby, now I know you're not tellin' me everything! What the Hell is buggin' ya?"

"The revelation came as a shock after all this time, love. I'm still tryin' to recover," she replied evasively

"OK, I guesso," he sighed. 'Dammit! If I there she wouldn't be able to get away with this evasive shit!' His hand rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Ya do know you can tell me whatever's botherin' you."

"Yes, love," she replied a little too quickly for his liking. "There's just nothin' else to tell."

He knew better than to continue to force a confidence from her. 'She'll just keep diggin' in her heels! I knowthere's more goin' on than she's tellin' me! Doesn't she understand not tellin' me what's goin' on makes me worry more?'

He trudged back to his cell alternately cursing and praising his wife. 'I'm proud as Hell that she's not puttin' me on a guilt trip!' He grumbled to himself. 'I know she wishes I were with her without her sayin' it, but sometimes a guy likes to hear that he's needed!'

---

"If I'd known that guy in the suit was that shitbird, I'd have wiped the floor with 'im before he ever got onto the elevator!" BZ cried, slamming his fist on the table in frustration. The group was gathered on Cat's front porch and she'd just shared her suspicions with them. BZ's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he added, "Or is that why ya kept quiet until now?"

"It is not!" She protested tiredly.

"Then why the Hell did ya keep quiet?" BZ retorted angrily.

"Because all I have to go on is a gut reaction," she stated. "That's not enough!"

"That's good enough for me!" Shank announced.

"Christ! Are all you outlaws cut out of the same cloth? I've already had this argument with Tig, and I'm not in the mood for another one!" She shouted in frustration.

"Look, maybe everyone needs to take a deep breath and calm down," Ron interjected, moving between Cat and the group of angry bikers confronting her.

"Maybe you should mind your own business!" Grim Bastard growled menacingly.

"Cat's my friend, that makes this 'my' business," Ron explained quietly, drawing himself up to his full height. "Just because you're outlaws and I'm not doesn't mean you scare me."

Vic moved quietly into a support position behind Ron, both hands balled into fists. He was ready for a fight if one broke out. 'I hope it doesn't come to that!'

"All y'all need to shut up and listen to me for a minute!" Cat snarled. "And put a cork in all this alpha male posturing!"

Cavey launched himself from the window sill he was leaning against to stand next to the tall blonde. "Big Bird's right," he announced calmly, locking gazes with the other men until they relaxed. "Now, take a deep breath and let the lady explain why she kept mum."

The outlaws grumbled and mumbled their frustration as they grudgingly took seats on the porch. Big Bird and Vic relaxed their defensive postures to lean against the window sill.

"That's better, then," he observed. He turned to Cat and added, "Go ahead, darlin'."

"Look, guys. As much as I want to pound sand up that rat's asshole, what if the divinity student is innocent?" She stated quietly. "What if, for once in his life, Daddy really did imagine that 'Rev Jones' tampered with his IV? Maybe all y'all can live with beatin' the shit out of an innocent man, but I can't - and won't!"

The 'Illinois Boys' exchanged glances while she spoke. They silently agreed that she had a valid point. The charter grapevine buzzed with incidences of club members striking out without having all the facts and hurting the wrong person.

"I see where you're goin', kitten. Doesn't mean I like it, but I understand it," BZ sighed.

"It's not that we don't appreciate that you're lookin' out for us, Lady Cat," Cavey interjected softly, "It's just that we might've just missed the only opportunity we 'ave to deal with that whanker once and for all."

"Don't all y'all think I'm aware of that?" Cat retorted, rising from her chair to stalk the length of the porch and back again in agitation. "That shitbird has the ability to disappear like a fart in a tornado!"

"Shit, guys! What's done is done. We can't waste time worryin' about it!" Mudball pointed out.

"You're forgettin' somethin', fellas," Vic announced.

"What's that?" Yum inquired guardedly.

"You're all behaving as if the guy knows he's been outed!" Vic pointed out.

"I doubt he feels that way," Cat admitted. "Daddy and I shared the same bad feelin', but we didn't let on to him that we were alarmed."

"I was watchin' 'im as 'e walked outta the room," Cavey added. "'E didn't look worried."

"So he might come back," GB mused, grinding a fist into his palm.

"Just like a bad penny," Cat acknowledged. "And as long as he thinks he's got the upper hand, he's gonna make use of that advantage."

"So we just wait?" Mudball growled.

"For the moment," she shrugged. "But I'll be makin' good use of the down time."

"How so?" Yum inquired.

"Tomorrow mornin' before visitin' hours, I intend to do on - line research into 'Rev. Jones'. I asked a few questions of him that can be verified on-line or over the phone. I also plan to check into that janitor at Vincennes that upset Daddy."

"Why bother checkin' on that whanker?" Cavey asked.

"The tamperin' with Daddy's IV was similar to what was done at Vincennes. The only difference was that the bi - pap machine wasn't messed with," Cat explained. "Daddy insisted that 'Rev. Jones' was behind the tamperin' this time. If the good student is so holy, why would Daddy insist that the man did it?"

"Ya mentioned earlier he might've been delusional," BZ reminded her.

"Which holds as much water as a leaky sieve," she replied.

"The medical people think it's possible," Cavey reminded her.

"I know Daddy better than they do. His mind has been solid as a rock his entire life. Even when he's under sedation. If he says the sun is shinin', I don't have to look out the window to make sure."

"Works for me," Yum murmured.

"I gather Tig read the riot act to ya about this," Grim mused ruefully.

"What makes y'all think that?"

"From what ya said earlier about alpha male posturin', Kitty," Grim replied.

"Yeah, he did. Between him and all y'all, I am exhausted!" She growled, turning her back on the group to stare out at the street. She was upset and worn out emotionally and physically. 'Alex kept tryin' to get me to tell him what else was buggin' me, but how could I tell him that Daddy knows the truth?'

---

'Good thing Diane went back to Vincennes; I'm not in the mood to be companionable tonight in exchange for pussy,' 'Brownie' thought to himself. He sat in the Cadillac in the apartment building's garage, listening to the ticking sound of the cooling engine. He needed a few minutes to prepare himself for whatever dry comments James might make.

The unexpected presence of Cat Marshall's protectors had forced him to walk around the large building to the service entrance. He'd expected to find one or two extra men hanging around after his shenanigans on Saturday, but an entire posse had temporarily rattled his confidence. The trek around the building made him hot and sweaty. The suit coat seemed smothering, adding to his discomfort.

He could've taken it off and carried it over his shoulder or arm, but that was too much added effort. He squinted his eyes agains the sun, not daring to put on his sunglasses just in case one of the bikers might be watching him from a nearby business parking lot. 'Maybe I'm bein' paranoid, but it's the kind of shit I did while prospectin' the MC in Terre Haute! Stands to reason these fucks might do the same!'

He kept watching for any sign that he was being tailed, especially when he passed a deli or restaurant. He knew from experience that none of the bikes would be parked in those lots; that would've been a dead giveaway. 'If those asshats are watchin' me and compare notes, they're gonna have questions later about why I walked past a perfectly good bus stop! If I use the minister disguise again, I'd better have a plausible story ready!'

He didn't relax until he reached the SUV and slid behind the safety of the tinted windows, a blessed relief from the bright sunlight. He didn't start the car to run the air conditioning until he was certain that he hadn't been followed. When he was assured it was safe, he started the engine and put the air conditioner on full blast.

'I'd still better come up with a cover story. Even though it looks like they're not gonna confront me or they'd have done so by now!' He used some napkins he found in the center console to wipe the sweat from his face. hissing through his teeth from the sting as sweat trickled into his eyes. He shivered under the coat from the cold air hitting his soaked shirt.

He stopped the engine, climbed out of the Cadillac, and sneaked through the employee entrance. 'Brownie' crept quietly and carefully to the room where he'd stored his suitcase earlier. He'd chosen a different room from the one he'd used the day before. He made that change in case the daytime custodians were cleaning the rooms in the vacated part of the building. By using a different room each time, he hoped to avoid having the janitors alert security to keep an eye out for him. 'Havin' to avoid the bikers is enough hassle!'.

After he showered, changed his clothes, and packed his ministerial outfit in the borrowed suitcase, he peeked outside the room to make sure none of the bikers or hospital staff were in the hallway. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he hustled to the custodian's locker room and stored the suitcase in a vacant locker. Then he took the stairway up to the second floor.

He didn't have to worry about avoiding the patient liaison; her office door had been closed and dark during his earlier visit. He was concerned that the bikers and Cat might still be around, but he strode nonchalantly down the corridor towards the elevator, acting as if he were any other person visiting a loved one.

He glanced into the open doorway of Blaine Marshall's room as he passed. The minister appeared to be asleep. The television was off and his daughter was sitting beside the bed, facing the open door. Her head rested on the mattress next to her father. 'Looks like she hasn't moved since I left!' He snorted inwardly. 'Lazy bitch is probably coppin' a few winks!'

He strode down the hallway, past the nurses' station and on to the second floor waiting area. The two civilians and most of the bikers were gone. Two bikers remained, including the tobacco chewer. Neither of the outlaws paid attention to him, save for a cursory initial once - over. 'Guess they don't find much of interest in this disguise!' He smirked.

Brownie' pressed the button to summon the car and leaned against the wall so that he faced the waiting room. A light 'ping' alerted him to the arrival of the elevator. He stepped into the vacant car and pressed the button for the first floor, mentally preparing himself to run another gauntlet of Cat's protectors.

The hallway outside the elevator bay was empty, as was the waiting area near the front entrance. 'They might all be outside!' He frowned, not liking what he perceived to be the outlaws' sudden disappearance. 'Could this mean they're watchin' for me?'

He walked cautiously to the double glass doors at the front entry and peeked into the parking lot, looking at every part of it that he possibly could. There were only two motorcycles parked near the purple sedan. 'Guess they went on about their business after they thought I left, keepin' a small detail on watch. That's gonna work.'

He strode outside just to make sure the other outlaws hadn't moved their bikes to another part of the lot not visible from the entry. Once he knew for certain the odds were more in his favor, he returned inside and took the stairs to the custodial locker room. After a few minutes' search, he found a clean pair of janitor's overalls that he would use for his next disguise. He would wear the janitor coveralls and cap when he tormented Blaine Marshall that night. He carried the suitcase and the pilfered uniform to the SUV and headed back to the apartment to hang out for a few hours.

'Brownie' was pleased with his success. Though the minister seemed to recognize him, Cat and her friends accepted his disguise at face value. Diane had fallen for his ploy hook, line, and sinker. 'She's like any other woman I've ever used. Give her some good dick and get anything ya want for more."

He removed the key from the ignition and got out of the SUV, glancing at the row of parked vehicles as he waited for the private elevator. All the vehicles were expensive, though there was a regular looking pick up truck parked furthest from the elevator that looked appealing. 'I might use that tonight instead of the Caddy. Looks more like somethin' a janitor would drive, anyway.' If he couldn't find the keys, he'd just hot wire the truck. He'd done that many times; the locking mechanism on the steering wheel wouldn't hamper his use of the vehicle.

He stepped out of the elevator car into a silent, empty foyer. His footsteps sounded like machine gun fire as he walked across the marble floor to the hallway leading to Diane's room. James never approached him at any time during his walk to the suite. He hung up the suit in the closet, stashed his makeup in the backpack, and stashed the custodial uniform in the suitcase, which he stored in the closet until he was ready to leave. 'The pastoral get up might still be useful; don't think I'll discard it yet,' he decided. 'Tonight is gonna be a lot of fun!'

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten for several hours. He picked up the phone and dialed the number Diane had left for the houseboy.

"How may I help you, sir?" James inquired snootily.

"I'd like something to eat," he replied shortly.

"If sir would look in the kitchenette of Miss Diane's suite, sir will find a plate in the mini fridge wrapped in foil. If sir will remove the foil and place said plate in the microwave, sir will have a piping hot meal in minutes." James paused a moment before adding. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

"Yeah. Beer."

"The aforementioned refrigerator is stocked with the brand you drank the other night, sir."

'Brownie' smirked with delight. The houseboy might not like him, but the guy was thorough. "Is the refrigerator already stocked for breakfast tomorrow?"

"No sir. Just call me when you want to be served. I assume you'll eat in Miss Diane's suite?"

"You know what they say about assumin', James," he quipped, just to see what the houseboy's reaction would be. After a couple of moments silence, 'Brownie' added, "Yes, I'll be wanting my meals in the suite, so please see to it that the meals are brought to me when I'm here, or the kitchenette stocked for when I get in."

"Of course, sir. Miss Diane left detailed instructions, but it is always preferable to touch base with the guest," James intoned. "If there's nothing else, sir, I wish you good night."

---

Gemma lit a cigarette the minute she reached the prison parking lot and chained smoked during the drive to Charming. The driver's side window was lowered so the smoke was drawn out the window instead of floating in the passenger compartment. The gesture was out of deference to her unborn grandchild. Gemma kept thinking over Tig's vehement reaction to her criticism of Cat's handling of Dawn and the subtle change their relationship had taken. 'It's hard to just step aside and watch some other woman do the things I did for Tig!' She mused to herself. 'He relied on me to help him deal with the girls and Colleen. I accept that he's married and Cat's obviously capable of handlin' his girls, but that doesn't make it any easier!'

Her feelings for Tig were no different than those she harbored for any other member of the club. She'd always been protective of the the boys from the very beginning. She was the undisputed Queen of the Club, not just JT's 'old lady'. No matter if the individual club members had women in their lives or not, Gemma was always first with them. 'Hell, if it weren't for me, the club wouldn't have stayed so close through the years! I made them welcome in our home, treated them like family, especially after JT died and Clay took the gavel!"

She didn't know Tig when he joined the club and became the SAA. She knew he was a friend of Clay's and they hit it off immediately when they met Their mutual love for Clay was the foundation of their relationship and he was soon another member of the extended family. Tig's fierce loyalty extended to her so that she always felt safe when Tig was around. It had felt natural for her to help him with the girls after he divorced Colleen. She was closer to the Trager girls than Cat would ever be. 'They call me 'Mama Gemma!' She observed ruefully. 'I doubt they call her anything close to that!'

Her thoughts drifted to the morning after she told her husband and son about the gang rape. 'I feared Clay wouldn't want me once he had time to take in the whole thing. Sure, he was sweet and apologetic that night, but he treated me more like a porcelain doll that his wife! He wouldn't touch me in bed! I felt unwanted that morning when Tig came to pick up our private stock. He looked haggard and upset. I could tell Clay or Jax had told him - maybe the whole club - about it. But I attributed his appearance to something happening between him and Cat. All the signals seemed to indicate he was as interested as me, but then he suddenly pulled away, figuratively and literally.'

Gemma felt rejected and unwanted. It was bad enough to have Clay avoid her. Having Tig - who she considered a man whore - turn her down was devastating. She believed she was used goods that Clay would replace with unvarnished pussy he could own. 'Turned out Tig was coming down from a bad 'shroom trip instead of licking his wounds from another cat fight. It was obvious to him that I was upset, but he said it wouldn't be right. I belonged to Clay and he didn't want to hurt the two people he loved most.'

She drew another deep draught on the cigarette, nearly burning her fingers as the hot end flared orange. She'd nearly smoked to the filter. 'I wonder if he ever told Cat about it?'She flicked the cigarette butt out the window and lit a new one, snoring in exasperation with herself. 'Nah. I definitely would've heard somethin' about it if he'd told her!' Cat didn't get into many fights over her man, but when backed against the wall, the woman could hold her own. Gemma had witnessed that much when the porn twins and their buddy vandalized Cat's bike. 'I have no desire to get knocked upside the head with that kung phooey shit she pulled on the porn gal!'

What Gemma didn't know until later was that Tig had shared her concerns with Clay that evening. She'd been busy in the TM office, getting caught up on paperwork when Clay marched determinedly inside, shut the door, and assured her in no uncertain terms that he still found her desirable and she was still his woman.

Clay's authoritative rumble echoed in her mind. "Listen, baby. You've gotta stay out of Tig's personal business now, and that includes the girls," he announced while Gemma fumed over the SAA's terse words to her. "Cat's his ol' lady now, and you just can't stick your nose in without bein' asked!'

Gemma's eyes flashed with annoyance, but she had no choice but to accept Clay's decree. 'I think he's a little jealous about my relationship with Tig, even though he didn't come right out and say so!' She mused as she drove and smoked. 'I think Clay suspects somethin' happened between me and Tig and he's jealous about it, usin' this situation to assert his authority over me!'

Tara had the passenger side window rolled down a bit to allow fresh air to hit her face. She didn't want to inhale any more second hand smoke than she had to both for her sake and that of her unborn child. "You're awfully quiet," Tara remarked to break the heavy silence.

"I've got a lot on my mind," Gemma replied without taking her eyes off the road.

"I noticed. Does it have anything to do with Tig going off on you in the visitor's room?"

Gemma glanced at her protege, then back at the road. "You saw that."

It wasn't a question, but Tara responded anyway. "Just enough to see that he was pretty angry with you."

"Yeah," Gemma sighed, turning her attention back to the road.

"You went in there loaded for bear anyway. Just what did you say to rile him up?"

Gemma inhaled on her cigarette, taking a deep draught of the smoke into her lungs, then she exhaled and replied, "I got on his case about Cat dealin' with his kid, he set me straight."

Tara gazed at her companion in disbelief. "It didn't look that simple from where I was sitting!"

"That's all I'm sayin'," Gemma murmured darkly.

'I've never seen him so upset with you!" Tara continued. "Not even when we killed your father's caregiver!"

"I overstepped, OK?" Gemma growled.

"You meddled," Tara observed wryly.

"Whatever," she shrugged. "Tig had a point. Cat was the injured party, she had every right to take action. She handled it right," Gemma stated gruffly.

"Ah, I get it!" Tara grinned knowingly. "You were pissed because you weren't consulted!"

"Tig said there was no need. It was Cat's business, she handled it. End of story," Gemma replied in a tone of voice that would've warned anyone else to drop the subject.

Tara didn't take the hint. "I knew that one of Tig's daughters was living with them and working at the hospital kiosk. What on earth happened?"

"Not for me to say," Gemma shrugged. "I've been informed it's a'right for me to be involved with my family but I've got to step back and let the boys handle their family matters on their own unless they ask for my help."

'Lucky them! Wish Jax would lay down the law to her like that!' Tara thought wryly, being careful not to let her feelings show. She patted her stomach reflectively. "I imagine it's a bit difficult to have to switch gears after being in 'fierce mother' mode for awhile."

"Yeah," Gemma replied softly. "Tig didn't have anyone to rely on after the divorce. Now he does. Plain and simple."

"Family ties are as strong as club ties," Tara remarked. "I didn't realize that Chibs was married until I saw Fiona. Why didn't his family come back with him?'

"Fiona wanted to, but Chibs insisted they stay in Belfast for awhile. It's the only home Kerrianne knows."

"Aren't they supposed to visit during break?"

"Yeah," Gemma huffed. "I'm not looking forward to seeing Fiona again."

Tara glanced at her mentor in confusion. "I thought you said you two settled your differences in Belfast when Jimmy O showed up at Maureen Ashby's apartment."

"We did, but that doesn't mean I want the gash livin' in my back yard!" Gemma snorted, blowing smoke through her nose as she spoke. "But now that Jimmy's out of the picture, Chibs is showing more interest in making his marriage with Fiona work."

"Would he transfer to SAMBEL?"

"Don't know," Gemma sighed. "I tend to doubt it. Too much shit happened in Ireland while we were there; he might not be happy there."

"So that leaves Fiona and Kerrianne relocating to Charming," Tara observed.

Gemma shook her head. "Kerrianne wasn't very happy about that idea. That's the reason they're coming here during her school break, kinda give it a trial run."

"What's Kerrianne like?" Tara inquired. She couldn't help wondering if Chibs' daughter was anything like the other older children of the club. 'If she's anything like Kozik's or Tig's daughters, we're in trouble!'

"Kerrianne's a quiet one. She's always listenin' to her Ipod or whatever it is the kids use these days for music. Every time I saw her, she had her ear buds in her ears." After a few moments' silence, Gemma added wryly, "It'll certainly be interesting while they're here."

"As if things don't get interesting enough lately!" Tara remarked.

"What's that 'sposed to mean?" Gem growled.

"Have you forgotten what you did to Wendy?"

Gemma inhaled deeply on her cigarette before tossing it out the window and lighting another. She glanced in the rear view mirror at the bikes behind her, then moved her eyes to the front. The Cadillac was in the middle of a convoy of vehicles heading for Charming. Chibs, Opie, and Kozik rode in front with the prospects following behind the Caddy. If any of them noticed the extreme amount of cigarette smoke drifting from the driver's side of the vehicle, none of them were willing to stop the convoy to question her about it.

---

Tig knew he would have to answer to Clay about the confrontation with Gemma. He didn't expect Jax to pounce on him as soon as they walked out of the visitation room when he felt a hand on his shoulder and fingers digging into the bullet wound he'd received from Gemma's father. "Damn, brother!" He yelped, wincing and spinning around to face the VP's scowl. "That hurt!"

"'S'posed too," Jax growled. "Care to tell me what the fuck happened earlier between you and Mom?"

"No," Tig growled. "It's not your business, Junior!"

Jax balled up his fists and took a menacing step towards the SAA, his eyes glittering in anger. "You forget who you're talkin' to!"

"Take it easy, son," Clay rumbled, coming up between the angry pair. "Tig was within his rights to put your mother in her place."

"How do you figure that?" Jax retorted challengingly.

''Your mother was getting into Tig's personal business, Son. Leave it at that and go on about your business," Clay replied tersely. His expression was more like a father correcting a recalcitrant child than Prez to VP.

Jax glared from his step - father to Tig and back again. "Fine, but it better not happen again in my hearing!" He stomped off down the hall after Happy and Juice.

"What can I say? He takes after his mother!" Clay shrugged.

"No shit!" Tig muttered mutinously. "Seems today's the day for the Tellers to kick my ass!"

"You know Jax has always been protective of his mom, when he's not pissed at her for one reason or another," Clay replied soothingly, leading Tig towards the cell block and the cell he shared with Juice. "Step into my 'office' for a bit."

Tig complied but made it obvious he wasn't willing. He leaned against the bars while his friend settled onto the lower bunk and lit a cigar. Neither man spoke during the process until the fragrant aroma of fine tobacco filled the air. "Wanna tell me what's goin' on between you and Gem?"

"You were there," Tig shrugged.

"You reacted a lot stronger than undue criticism of your woman warranted," Clay observed languidly. "You acted like a puppy whipped for no reason by its' owner."

"Nothin's goin' on, Clay. Gem's a friend," Tig stated quietly. He locked eyes with the Prez, reminding himself not to let let his guilt over what nearly happened between Gemma and himself show.

"Then why-?"

"I didn't expect her to make such an issue outta Cat's handlin' of Dawn," Tig interjected. "Now tell me somethin'!"

"Name it," Clay replied, exhaling a plume of smoke towards the ceiling.

"How the fuck did she find out?"

"Badgered Filthy and he folded like a limp dick," Clay grunted. "You know how Gem likes to torment the prospects."

"Yeah," Tig smirked. "Hope Phil realizes he needs to grow a steel pair after this."

"It'll have an affect on his patchin' in after the initial year," Clay admitted. "Listen, I told her she was outta line buttin' into your family business."

"Thanks for the back up," Tig grunted. "I know she's not happy about not bein' top woman in my life anymore."

"Ya think?" Clay grinned wryly.

"Guess I relied on her a little too much after the divorce when it came to handlin' the girls," Tig admitted gruffly.

"You needed help with 'em," Clay shrugged. "You've always been more than 'just' a brother to me, Tig. Gemma's always felt the same way."

'Nearly more than family once,' Tig thought. He straightened his shoulders and resolutely thrust it from his mind. "I'm sorry I went off on her."

"She'll get over it. She knows she overstepped," Clay assured him. "Your woman's proved herself more than once. It's over and done with. Gem's just gonna have to accept the fact that things have changed for ya, and for the better."

"So we're good," Tig stated.

Clay stood up from the bunk, extending his arms outwards. He enfolded his friend in a bear hug, giving Tig the 'bro hug double back tap'. "We're always good, brother."

---

Ethan Zobelle massaged his forehead to ease the headache threatening to develop following his conversation with Jacob Hale. 'There are times when I wish someone else in Charming's elite had reached out to LOAN instead of Hale's father. There are some people in this world who are too stupid to breathe, and Jacob Hale is one of them!' Zobelle didn't have to suffer many fools gladly, but some fools he had no choice about dealing with. Jacob Hale was one such fool.

The original plan had been for LOAN - with behind the scenes backing from the Hale family and other influential Charming residents - to eliminate SAMCRO's influence once and for all. With the MC out of the way, Jacob Hale would be free to bring major commercial businesses to town, which SAMCRO had prevented for decades. In return, LOAN would benefit from establishing another base in San Joaquin County for their Northern California campaign.

Zobelle made sure he prospered through his own 'outside' ventures. He provided a higher grade of heroin to the area gangs, establishing a solid relationship with Marcus Alvarez and his Mayans, which pipe lined the narcotic into the NorCal prison system. He seeded the deal by providing free automatic weapons to the Latin club.

'The sweet thing about that deal was he was giving away SAMCRO's guns! Though tasked by the Irish Kings to deliver the weapons to the MC, Zobelle's money had bought both Edmund and Cameron Hayes' allegiance.'

It didn't take long for the Irish Kings to get wind of what was happening. They sent their emissary, Jimmy O'Phelan, to sort things out between the club and the Hayes' family. At that same time the Feds had the Hayes' safe house under surveillance in hopes of catching SAMCRO and O'Phelan in the act of running guns. The surveillance turned out to be a bust while SAMCRO got their guns back.

The MC had also gotten wind of the Mayan's new heroin distribution system, which was being run by a minor Latino MC, the Calavarez. SAMCRO hijacked the shipment and returned it to the Mayans with the proviso that SAMCRO's affiliated MC - the Grim Bastards - do the muling for them at a price. Both the GBMC and SAMCRO received a percentage of the Mayan's cut to continue to run the narcotics business through Sanwa County.

'I had counted on Mrs. Morrow breaking down and crying on her husband's shoulder about the gang rape. Her continued silence allowed the stew to boil until it ran over and caused SAMCRO to go on the rampage.'

Zobelle managed to avoid facing the wrath of SAMCRO for his part in the gang rape on Gemma but paid a heavy price. Clay Morrow had tried to beat Zobelle's whereabouts from his daughter, Polly, who refused to give him up. Zobelle didn't know that SAMCRO was in his cigar shop until he stepped into the customer area and was grabbed by Trager and another of the outlaws. Just as it became apparent that he was to die, Deputy Chief David Hale and his officers arrested the Zobelles for possession of narcotics, saving them from the clubs' wrath. He used his one telephone call to call his FBI contact. The Feds came to their aid the following morning.

'Unser lost no time sharing that tidbit with the club!' Zobelle snorted. The club had waited outside Charming PD for Zobelle to make bail so they could exact vengeance on him. Telling Agent Stahl and Unser of his Criminal Informant status put a damper on his ability to operate in California, but it also got him and Polly released from the 'CPD Hilton'.

Giving the guns to the Mayans proved to be beneficial for Zobelle. It bought him their protection when he needed it. The Oakland MC provided safe passage from Charming PD to 'Impeccable Smokes'. Zobelle only intended to stay at the store long enough to grab their passports and his cache of money; Polly insisted on saying goodbye to Edmund Hayes. That visit resulted in her death, gleefully announced to him by Deputy Chief David Hale when Zobelle asked for protection from the pursuing outlaws. His daughter's body was found just a few feet from Edmund Hayes' dead body.

Unable to wait for Polly, Zobelle and the Mayans fled Charming, with SAMCRO on their heels. Following a shoot out on the highway, Zobelle left the Mayans and fled in his Mercedes, limping on the rim of a flattened tire. The wheel froze up in a convenience store parking lot where Zobelle sought refuge. The club had followed him there, but waited to take action due to the presence of a busload of children.

Something sent the blond VP and two of the club members racing from the parking lot. While Zobelle learned that his daughter had died and was looking for an escape from the club, Clay and the rest of the bikers rushed out of the parking lot. Zobelle didn't question his luck. He called a cab to take him to the private airfield in Stockton where he made his lonely escape.

He fled to the home he'd established with Polly in Bucharest, waiting for the FBI to clear his cover so that he could return to the states, though he would no longer be able to work along the West Coast. Life there was dreary without his daughter. Zobelle mourned her deeply. What hurt worse was that he never got to say goodbye and would never be able to visit her grave.

It had been necessary for him to send authorization through his Fed contact to authorize Hale to act on his behalf. Zobelle had funded Polly's last rites, but it had been Hale who had gotten Polly's body released from the coroner, chosen the casket and grave site, and present when her body was consigned to the grave he'd purchased. Hale had even chosen the headstone that marked the site of Polly's resting place, all things a father should do for his child and that he was prevented from performing.

That was what fueled Zobelle's desire for retribution against SAMCRO. He held the club accountable for his banishment from the West Coast and that he had to rely on someone else to bury his only child. He had a picture of the grave site that Jacob Hale had sent to him, but it wasn't the same as personally visiting. Then came the news from his FBI contact that Gemma Teller Morrow had killed his daughter. Agent Liebling informed him it was undeniable self defense, but that did nothing to appease his pain and anguish. His desire to destroy the club increased and would not be stopped by the miles and ocean that separated them.

'A person can do a lot via telephone and the internet, especially when there is plenty of money available to grease the necessary palms,' he thought to himself, gazing at the picture of Polly on his desk. The money he was getting from drugs financed his war on the MC and all those close to it. Besides Jacob Hale, his money bought plenty of willing eyes, ears, and hands to do his bidding.

The first step had been to shut down Charming PD. Jacob Hale had managed to accomplish that task without too much difficulty, ending the long standing protection SAMCRO had enjoyed from legal persecution. "Lt. Roosevelt will make life miserable for the club and make it more difficult for them to conduct their illegal operations!" Zobelle observed dryly.

The attempt to cancel Chief Unser's medical coverage had met with considerable opposition when it was presented to the city council. Outraged citizenry, led by the Charming Business Owners Association, had managed to kill the proposal. His other Charming nemesis, Cat Marshall Trager, had led the opposition, resulting in only Hale and Croucher voting in favor of the measure.

"Their victory will be short lived," Zobelle chuckled to Polly's picture. "When the new year comes, Unser will be paying double the cost for his premium along with paying a high deductible before any assistance kicks in. There's nothing the populace can do about a business decision! Unser won't be able to afford the medicines he needs and will die a slow and painful death from his cancer!"

Zobelle wanted to insure that Unser would not have his trucking firm to fall back on for income and insurance. That was why he was so adamant about getting a front man to purchase the trucking firm with Zobelle's own money. The front man would run the business as he saw fit, so long as Unser drew nothing from it except the selling price. 'If I read all the signs accurately, he is so far in debt that he'll clear enough to pay off his debts with little else left over!'

Zobelle leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "Hale never understood my reasoning for replacing his crony on the council with Mrs. Trager," he continued. "But it fits into my plans. The city council needed someone who would not be looked at as a rubber stamp for Hale. Croucher was notorious for that. Though she ran and won from claiming no loyalty to SAMCRO, the town will see otherwise and turn against both her and the club!"

Having the public turn against Cat Marshall Trager was important to Zobelle. The woman had come out publicly against him and LOAN, going so far as to organize a rally protesting their presence. He had secretly applauded AJ Westin's handling of the woman, though he'd had to publicly disavow it. 'How sad that AJ's life was taken by the club. He had his uses, though he was blinded by his goals for white power.'

Vengeance for AJ and his sons also motivated Zobelle in his quest to destroy SAMCRO. Westin's sons were left parentless, with his oldest son committed to a long term mental health facility and his youngest in the custody of his maternal grandparents. "Children deserve to be raised by their parents, not a facility or their grandparents," he stated to Polly's picture. "I'm so glad you were nearly grown when your mother was killed and I was here to help you. Losing their father the way they did is sure to leave emotional scars. AJ's youngest at least is with loving, though misguided family. Time will tell."

---

'Brownie' pounded the pick up truck's steering wheel in frustration. He couldn't believe how quickly his luck had changed in a few short hours. No one was around the nearly empty front lot to see or hear his frustration. The windows were rolled up and the doors shut to contain his fury. Not that he was worried about visitors or staff witnessing his tirade, as it was nighttime and the windows of the pickup were as darkly tinted as the SUV's.

He had returned to the hospital during 'third shift' hours to wreak more havoc with Blaine Marshall's equipment and morale. His work experience in Vincennes had taught him that support staffing during the overnight hours was light at most hospitals, and a transitioning hospital was likely to have even less support staff on duty.

It initially appeared that his beliefs were well founded. He was able to sneak into the building through the employee entrance in his janitor disguise and casually made his way to the second floor. When he paused in front of Rev. Marshall's open room door, he discovered a nurse sitting by the bedside. 'Shit! What the fuck's goin' on here?'

Before 'Brownie' could walk away, the nurse stood up and came to the door. "May I help you?"

"No, ma'am," the fake janitor replied in a reedy voice. "Just scopin' out my assigned tasks for tonight." He looked past the nurse to the patient lying on the bed. "Is he OK?"

"I'm specializing him tonight," the nurse replied. "Whatever you need to do, as long as you are quiet, should be all right."

*I'll keep that in mind," he smiled, hiding his frustration behind the false friendly demeanor. He strode down the hall, pretending to look into the other rooms on the floor in case the nurse was still watching him. When he got to the stairwell, he looked back over his shoulder to make sure no one was in the hallway. The coast was clear so he opened the door, raced down the stairs and out to the truck.

"That fuckin' bitch!" He roared at the top of his lungs. "I can't believe she hired a private duty nurse! Shit!" He lit a cigarette and slumped behind the wheel in the driver's seat, not caring that he was befouling the otherwise pristine interior. He continued smoking and fuming over his bad luck. 'Everything was going great until now!'

Slipping out of the apartment had been easy. James had no interest in him beyond taking care of his basic needs. 'Brownie' hadn't had to hot-wire the pickup; the keys to the various family vehicles had been stored in a coat closet near the elevators. Diane had shown this to him during their initial tour of the penthouse. 'I'd grown so used to carryin' the SUV keys that I forgot where they were kept!'

Each key fob had a security key to the elevator and the outer gate to the garage. That made things easier so he wouldn't have to carry two sets of keys. Nor would he have to spend time and energy hot-wiring the pickup truck.

He liked the anonymity the pickup gave him over the SUV. It had power and he guessed from the trailer hitch that the truck was used to pull a boat. 'Hardly likely they'd store the fuckin' thing here of course, but if they wanted to show it off somewhere, they'd need somethin' with plenty of power to tow it!' He observed snidely to himself.

The pick up had all the luxuries: leather seats; satellite radio; a wireless link to emergency and travel guides; power steering, locks, and windows; and a switch that changed the truck's capabilities from highway to off road drive. 'The only thing this damn thing doesn't have is a fuckin' cooler!' He thought before discovering that the cup holders had heat and cooling controls to keep drinks at their optimum enjoyment temperature. 'I could make good use of this when I leave town!'

He continued chain smoking and thinking of alternatives to his problem. He didn't like the idea of the student or the minister guise because they restricted his lurking to the daytime. The presence of either disguise was not easily explainable after hours. 'I suppose I could just hang around all night, she's got to go take a dump or a lunch sometime!'

The problem with hanging around the hospital was that he couldn't stay on the floor in the same area for hours on end. That was sure to bring on unwanted attention. Nor did he want to risk losing any window of opportunity by working in another area of the wing. He lit a new cigarette from the butt of the last one he'd smoked and continued to think over his limited options.

He suddenly sat up straight and slammed his hand on the steering wheel again. "Aw, the Hell with it! Night time's my only chance to really fuck with that old shit! The cunt has to leave his side sometime! There's plenty of unused rooms on that floor I can hide in until she does!"

Decision made, he opened the pick up's driver door, surprised to see a cloud of cigarette smoke drift above the roof of the vehicle. 'I didn't think I'd smoked that much!' He observed bemusedly. He shut the door and ambled back into the hospital.

No one challenged his presence or progress through the first floor. He strode up the stairway to the darkened second floor hallway and crept down it to the vacant room directly across from Rev. Marshall's room. His dark colored uniform blended in with the dim light. His shoes made no sound - not even a squeak - on the tile.

The door to the Rev. Marshall's room was still open, though the patient bed was far enough from the door that the light didn't disturb him. The private nurse didn't see 'Brownie' slip into the room because she had her back turned to the door while she was suctioning the patient's throat. 'Brownie's' stomach turned at the sound of the suction machine clearing out the accumulated mucus. 'Yuck! Must - not - hurl - chunks!' He reminded himself grimly.

He was able to contain his gorge long enough to reach the bathroom and quietly close the door. 'Shit!' He groaned, leaning over the toilet while his stomach protested mightily. He took several deep breaths until his gut stopped protesting. The nausea faded away while he continued breathing deeply. "Damn! That was close!" He whispered. He moved to the sink and splashed cold water on his face, wiped it dry with a paper towel, then shut off the light and waited by the closed door to give his eyes time to adjust.

'Ha!' He crowed triumphantly to himself when he opened the bathroom door and found the room was still dark and vacant. 'As long as I stay in the shadows, no one from the hallway will know I'm here. They'll never bother looking in an empty room, and there won't be any regular janitor on the floor tonight to check!' He settled into a chair in the shadows where he could watch the doorway to his prey's room and wait for an opportunity to attack.

'Brownie' discovered during his earlier canvass of the premises that janitors weren't assigned to the floors during the third shift. The nursing staff might not know that was the case. The private duty nurse certainly didn't know or she would have challenged him when they met earlier. The earlier frustration was giving way to a feeling of happiness at getting his way again. All he had to do was wait, and he was good at that when he wanted something badly enough.

---

Gemma smirked over Tara's comment about Wendy. Abel's birth mother had disappeared immediately after Donna's funeral. 'Can't blame her for it, Jax made his preference for Tara publicly clear to everyone present!' She mused. 'Their PDA certainly pissed a few people off, thought they had the sense to keep their opinions to themselves.'

Gemma had championed her former stepdaughter's hope to reconcile with her son. She was Abel's birth mother, and as far as Gemma was concerned, was a better wife to Jax than Tara could ever be. 'At least Wendy didn't sneak outta town and break Jax's heart!'

Gemma held Tara responsible for Cameron Hayes' abducting Abel and taking him to Belfast. "Why would she bother to fight for him anyway? She didn't have any emotional investment in him!" She whispered to Clay during the Trans - Atlantic flight.

"For fuck's sake woman!" Clay hissed in her ear. They were sitting away from the rest of the group making the trip, but he definitely didn't want Jax hearing his mother's comments. As large as the freight carrier was, there wasn't enough space to contain both Teller tempers! "Tara was scared to death! Don't forget Cameron had put a gun to her head before he stuck a knife hilt deep into Half - Sack's gut! If she'd fought him, we'd have had two funerals and a homicidal son to contend with!"

Gemma glanced at her son, who was leaning against the fusilage of the plane, staring off into space and chain smoking. "Yeah, maybe you're right about Tara," she sighed, thinking of the promise she'd made to the doctor about keeping her pregnancy secret. The presence of a new grandchild helped soften the Queen's attitude towards Tara, who she believed would be a better parental influence on Abel than his junkie whore mother.

She met privately with Ally Lowen soon after their return from Belfast with Abel to explain what she wanted the lawyer to do. "Is Jax aware of this?" Lowen inquired.

"No, and he's not going to until the time is right," Gemma replied frostily. "All you need to do is write up the document."

"I heard that Wendy was going into rehab," Lowen observed. "If she cleans up her act, she's likely to fight this."

"I hope she does!" Gemma snorted. "No judge in his right mind will give any amount of custody to a junkie whore! Don't forget that Wendy was using while she was carrying Abel! He could've died because of her!"

"I'll write up the document, but it's worthless without her signature," the attorney cautioned her.

"Not your problem. I'll track her down and 'persuade' her to sign!" Gemma retorted.

Gemma didn't have to do much persuading to convince the former Charming Police Chief to track down her former daughter - in - law. She was well aware of Unser's feelings for her and she used those feelings whenever she needed to for her own advantage without guilt.

"Considering what you did to her after she gave birth to Abel, sweetheart, I'm not sure I should give you this intel," Wayne informed her when he announced he'd tracked Wendy down.

"Yeah," Gemma shrugged. "But there's some family business that has to be attended to. Like it or not, she's Abel's mom."

Wayne sighed in resignation and surrendered the intel. Wendy was living in a sober living environment in Seattle, Washington. 'I doubt she's gonna go all the way there to cause the girl trouble!'

"So she's clean for the moment."

"She went to a friend's house following Donna's funeral, stayed there until the rehab center in Seattle had a space for her. She's already earned an Associate's degree, and working on a Bachelor's. She's doing well, Gemma," he replied. "If you do go see her, leave the syringes home."

"Why, Wayne!" Gemma grinned mischievously. "You know me better than that!"

"Ieah, I know you real well!" He muttered.

After visiting her father in at the nursing home in Oregon, Gemma drove on up to Seattle to the address Unser had given her; the document Ally Lowen had drawn up surrending Wendy's legal rights to Abel's custody in her purse. She no longer needed protection from the club for those trips to see her father, now that a truce had been reached between Putlova and SAMCRO. 'Just as well, I don't need the hassle having the prospects along would entail,' she observed to herself. 'Wendy might be rehabilitated now, but once a junkie whore, always a junkie whore. Abel needs stability in his life. That's something Wendy will never be able to provide. Hell, Tara's been the only mother he's know since we brought him back from Ireland! He doesn't know Wendy and doesn't need to know her!'

She easily found the sober living center. It was built like a college dormitory and offered nearly as much freedom for the residents to come and go as they needed for school or work. There was a central desk where the residents checked in and out of the house and picked up their mail and messages. Gemma strode confidently to the reception desk to announce her presence.

"Can I help you?" The attendant inquired politely, never taking her eyes off the mail she was sorting in front of her.

"I'm looking for Wendy Case. Or Wendy Teller," Gemma replied. "I don't know if she went back to her maiden name after her divorce."

The attendant looked up from her sorting, laid the mail down and folded her hands protectively over the pile. "Ms. Case is a resident, but she didn't note the names of anyone that would be visiting her."

"She was probably too ashamed of herself at the time," Gemma lied smoothly. "I'm her former mother - in - law. I thought she might like a few pictures of her son; find out how he's doing."

"I'll let her know you're here," the attendant stated, reaching for the telephone.

Gemma leaned across the counter and placed her hand over the attendant's to stop her. She applied subtle pressure on the woman's hand and purred silkily. "I'd rather surprise her, if you get my meaning."

The attendant winced and tried to draw her hand away from the phone. Gemma increased the pressure on the woman's hand before releasing it, drawing herself to her full height. "I thought you'd see things my way!"

The attendant stammered the room number and pointed in the direction Gemma should take. "Now don't go giving her a warning call behind my back!" Gemma warned over her shoulder, striding off in the indicated direction. "I'd hate for anything to spoil the surprise!"

Wendy was sitting at the kitchen table of her efficiency apartment, studying for a test. She was studying for a test when a knock sounded at her door. She gazed quizzically at it, wondering who might be visiting. She hadn't made any plans to meet with any classmates and she certainly didn't order any delivery! She walked to the door and opened it without looking through the peep hole. The minute she saw Gemma standing in the entry, she tried to slam the door closed. Gemma stuck her leg in the doorway to prevent being locked out.

"I wouldn't try to break my leg if I were you!" Gemma growled furiously.

"Then go away!" Wendy cried, pushing against the door with as much force as Gemma was using on the other side. "You've hurt me enough!"

"I'm not here to hurt you," Gemma protested. "I came to talk about Abel!"

Invoking her grandchild's name got the result Gemma wanted. Wendy opened the door slightly and gazed fearfully at her. "Is he all right?"

'Too bad you weren't more concerned about his well being when you were carrying him!' Gemma's stomach turned at the younger woman's expression of genuine motherly concern. "He's fine. Strong and growing," she assured the woman as she strode past the open door and on into the small apartment.

The efficiency was neat as a pin. Wendy looked healthier than she'd appeared in a long time. She'd gained a little weight and her skin has lost the pale color associated with most drug addicts. Gemma took all this in during the space of a few seconds while Wendy closed the door and leaned against it's solid support, eyeing the older woman with suspicion. "You wouldn't drive all the way out here just to tell me Abel's fine," she stated flatly. "What's really going on, Gemma?"

Gemma placed her purse on the table beside Wendy's textbook and turned to glare at her former daughter in law. "What's going on is that I want you to turn over custody of Abel to Tara."

Wendy snorted in derision and smiled grimly. "Somebody lace your pot with Angel Dust, Gemma? There's no way I'm giving custody of my son to that home wrecker!"

Gemma folded her arms across her chest. "Yes you are, sweetheart."

"No, I'm not! Maybe you've changed sides in the war for Jax, but I'm the one that gave birth to Abel, not that slut doctor!" Wendy announced. "Swappin' spit in front of Donna's casket doesn't change that!"

"Need I remind you that you're the reason Abel had such a rough time of it when he was born!" Gemma hissed. "Had you not been a such junkie whore, Abel wouldn't have almost died!"

Wendy grimaced at Gemma's evil reminder of her previous sins. "There's not a day that doesn't go by where I don't ache for what he's gone through, but that's in the past. I'm over that shit now. Been clean for months and as you can see, I'm taking college classes."

"That's all good, but I'm thinking about Abel's future. Tara's a doctor, she makes good money, and is already taking better care of the boy than you'll ever be able to give him. Can't you see it's in his best interests?"

"I see that you're interfering in something that's none of your business!" Wendy retorted. "Now get out of my house!" She turned to open the door, only to find herself pressed up against it, with one of her hands held behind her back in a hard, painful grip.

Gemma leaned her body against Wendy's back, putting all her weight on the younger girl. She grinned with satisfaction to hear a gasp of pain from Wendy. "Listen to me, you junkie whore! You're gonna sign over custody, and you're gonna do it today! I'm not leavin' until you do!"

"Then you're in for a long stay!" Wendy gasped painfully. She strained against the door, trying to push Gemma off her, but the other woman was as immovable as a stone mountain.

Gemma pushed harder against Wendy's back, drawing the girl's arm higher between her shoulder blades. "I don't think so!"

Wendy cried out in pain at the same moment the women heard the unmistakable sound of bones cracking. Gemma stepped back a few paces and released Wendy's arm, watching in horrified fascination as it swung haphazardly at the woman's side.

"You bitch!" Wendy exclaimed, turning to glare at her former mother in law. Tears of pain brimmed in her eyes.

"Compliments won't get you anywhere," Gemma replied grimly. "Now sit your ass in this chair and sign these papers!" She dug the legal papers out of her purse and tossed them on top of Wendy's open textbook. "Now!"

Wendy glared at the outstretched hand holding the cell phone and then at Gemma's determined face. "What are ya gonna do if I refuse? Kill me?"

"Don't tempt me," Gemma growled, moving a step towards the injured woman.

Wendy decided it would better to comply with Gemma's order than to continue fighting. The pain in her arm was unbearable and she knew the Queen wouldn't let her seek treatment for it until she got what she wanted. She cautiously stepped to her chair, keeping a wary eye on Gemma the entire time. She slid into her vacated chair and picked up the document with her good hand.

"I guess it was a little dramatic, but I got the job done," Gemma admitted. "Just wait until you've been a mother for awhile; you'll find yourself willing to do whatever it takes to keep your babies safe - no matter how old they are!"

---

Despite being exiled from the US, the world wide web and his many minions kept Ethan Zobelle informed of the news and other events taking place there. He read every article he could find on the double murder of ATF agent June Stahl and IRA kingpin James O'Phelan. He also scoured the internet for television news articles on the double killing. 'SAMCRO did a good job of implicating the RIRA for the deed,' he observed in reluctant admiration. 'But I know better and I need to convince the Feds that SAMCRO murdered them!'

He removed a file one of his minions had emailed to him from his safe and spread it out on his desk. He had enough fuel to start and maintain a fire that would burn a large hole in the MC. All he had to do was to light the match. He reached out via email to his FBI contact, requesting a call via a secure line on a tip about Agent Stahl's murder. 'Appearances are not as they seem, but I can point you in the right direction of the true miscreants', he added in closing the email.

Several hours later, his contact returned the call. As soon as Zobelle heard the caller's name, he turned on his own scrambler. "Hello, Robert. Thanks for calling back."

"This better be important, Zobelle," Liebling retorted. "You say that you have new information about Agent Stahl's murder?"

"I wouldn't have bothered to contact you otherwise," Zobelle assured him. "SAMCRO murdered both Agent June Stahl and James O'Phelan."

Leibling snorted in derision. "That boat already sailed! The IRA did it, all the evidence supports it!"

"Evidence can be planted and manipulated," Zobelle replied patiently. "You know that as well as I do."

Liebling frowned and rubbed his chin in a speculative manner, grateful that they weren't using video conferenceing. As much as he hated to be in agreement with Zobelle, the man was correct about evidence. He didn't want his superiors to demote him for turning down a lead in the case, no matter the source. "OK, you've got my interest."

'Of course!' Zobelle grinned, preparing to reel in his catch. "I propose providing funding so that the State Attorney's office can set up a task force to investigate both SAMCRO and the IRA, leading to their eventual demise, and an end to the gun running operation in Northern California."

Leibling was amazed. Funding an entire task force was quite an offer for Zobelle to make. 'He's got deep pockets, though. If anyone could afford it, he can. But he's not offering it out of the goodness of his heart!' He reached for a pad of paper and started jotting notes. "I can't make any promises,. This will have to go to my bosses. Why don't you give me a few more details and I'll take it to them."

"That's all I ask you to do right now," Zobelle purred. He explained his plan in detail, ending with, "There is a new police building under construction for the sheriff's unit in Charming. It will be no problem to reinforce the upper floor so the task force has a secure work space."

"One question, will this be a multi-unit task force, or just involve the State Attorney?" Leibling inquired.

"This would be a multi - unit mission. It's far too much for one person to handle alone." He paused before adding, "I do have one concern about this offer."

'Here it comes!' Liebling sighed inwardly. "What's that?"

"The reports I read about the aftermath of Agent Stahl's death indicated that all of her cases and arrests were being reviewed. Apparently she had become a bit of a 'rogue' agent."

"You're worried that SAMCRO's deal will be nullified," Liebling observed.

"Naturally. The majority of the club remaining behind bars makes the implementation of this effort much smoother than if they are released."

"You have a point, there," Liebling replied. The agency had a long standing, unwritten rule about the release of 'privileged' information. Those who needed to know were told, others were left in the dark. Liebling didn't have to have Zobelle tell him that the offer hinged on SAMCRO's continued incarceration. "The federal weapons charges against the MC are air tight, despite Stahl's brokerage of the deal," he explained. "It was well documented that the club had automatic weapons at the MCC, which brought about their jail time. Unless they fuck up big time, that club won't be released until the end of their term - minus time off for good behavior."

"May they - as you so eloquently put it - fornicate themselves into additional time," Zobelle intoned.

"It's your turn to tell me something," Liebling retorted. "Just what do you want in return for all this 'generosity' you're bestowing upon the U S Government?"

"Only the satisfaction of seeing justice done," Zobelle countered suavely.

'Yeah, right! And bears don't shit in the woods!' Liebling observed wryly to himself, Still, if it meant putting an end to the Norcal gun running operation, his superiors were likely to give Zobelle whatever he wanted for the largesse. "It might take some time to get back with you on this."

"I am familiar with bureaucratic red tape," Zobelle intoned. "I will entrust this to your capable hands." To further insure that Leibling would co - operate, Zobelle made a considerable wire transfer of funds to an account set up for that purpose. It wasn't registered directly to Liebling, but he could access the funds without any difficulty. He received a confirmation email a few minutes later that the supervisors were 'reviewing his information.'

Several days and wire transfers later, Zobelle received the anticipated email advising him that he would be receiving contact from the Northern California representative of the State Attorney's office assigned to the case, one Lincoln Potter. The initial contact would be by email to set up a later telephone interview.

Taking the time difference into consideration, Zobelle made a habit of checking his email frequently so he wouldn't miss or lose it to a spam filter. He felt like a kid anticipating Christmas morning while he waited for the all important contact. The contents of the email were a little disappointing when it finally arrived, containing simply a telephone number and time to call. He didn't allow himself to feel let down for long. He had his foot inside the door, and once his foot was in, the rest would follow.

---

Cat was mentally exhausted from battling the alpha male hardheadedness of her husband and the 'Illinois Boys' regarding 'Brownie'. It had been a major job for her to get them to agree to wait until she was sure that the divinity student was actually her long – time nemesis.

As tired as she was, her mind refused to let her rest, so she worked on some projects that needed attention. She transferred money from the main coffeehouse and kiosk account into accounts for the state sales and employee taxes, federal employee withholding, and to pay bills back in California to keep the lights on at her house and businesses. She had the daily reports from the kiosk and coffeehouse to work from to make the tax transactions, but it was tedious because she hadn't attended to it for several days.

'I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have Pete and Miss Anna authorized to do this every day while I'm gone. This kind of stuff can't wait very long, and things seem to change rapidly around here!' She observed wryly. "After the fiasco with Dawn, I'm a bit hesitant about allowin' too many people access to the accounts!' She felt guilty for harboring such feelings. Her staff had been loyal to her from the very first. There was no reason not to trust them. One bad apple doesn't ruin the whole peck, it just tastes like shit!'

She was still wide awake when that task was completed, so she transferred some money from her personal account to Alex's phone card. He'd assured her that the Croweaters and the former Caracara girls were keeping the phone cards for Juice, Bobby, and Happy loaded. "Gem and Tara are takin' care of their men!" He added.

She frowned at the slight terseness in his voice when he mentioned the Queen. 'Guess they must've had a disagreement of some kind. Likely involved me and Dawn knowin' Gemma!' She didn't nudge Alex for an explanation. He'd tell her what had happened if and when he was ready.

'It's not the first time Gemma's stuck her nose in our business,' she recalled wryly, thinking back to the disagreement she'd had with Alex about Kip, also known as 'Half – Sack'. The prospect had been killed by Cameron Hayes a few months ago, and the loss still rankled. She'd genuinely liked the young biker. He'd been a good friend to the coffeehouse and enjoyed the many programs she offered Charming's young people.

'The poor kid never knew from me or Alex that he'd been the cause of our minor tussle. I took off on my bike to talk to Gemma about the fight, since she was the only woman I knew with full time experience in living with the club's rules. Somehow she convinced me into a makeover that made me look like her. Alex wasn't happy with it, and though I'd promised Gem I would meet her every few weeks to have the highlights redone, I never followed through. She even suggested I start dressin' the part of an 'old lady', but her style isn't for me. If she wants to wear tight and revealin' clothes, that's her business. Alex likes the way I dress, and that's what matters!'

She was deliberately keeping her mind busy so she wouldn't think about 'Brownie's' presence and the danger to her and her father. She was more concerned for her father than herself. She had around the clock protection, her father didn't have that luxury. Only the special nurse she'd obtained that night and the meager night nursing staff stood between him and 'Brownie's' wrath.

Cat yawned mightily, checking over her 'to – do' list for the next day. She had a lot of projects to accomplish before visiting hours began at the hospital. That included research into the divinity student's claims. 'I could get a start on some of this now,' she thought, removing her glasses and rubbing her tired eyes. 'But it'll go better if I get some sleep and start fresh." She powered down the laptop and stumbled to the bed. She was sleep the minute her head hit the pillow.

---

Blaine slept off and on through the remainder of visiting hours. He awoke for a while when he heard the special nurse arrive and her discussion with his daughter about her duties.

"You're mainly here to insure that no one messes with Daddy's IV or breathing equipment," she explained. "And to perform the normal care that you'd give during the shift."

"I understand from the registry that you suspect his IV was tampered with," the nurse acknowledged.

"That's true, though it was made to look like Daddy did it. I know he wouldn't tamper with his own IV line! Not when he's more likely to take out the feedin' tube if he got his hands free!"

"Did you have to tell her that?" He protested weakly.

"It's the truth!" Cat retorted lightly.

"Your father must have a DNR on file," Nurse Rose remarked.

"He does, so anything that's considered above regular care has to be approved by me," Cat acknowledged. "Getting back to the subject at hand, you should know that I also feel someone else is responsible because there was similar tampering at his previous hospital."

"What do you want me to do if anyone tries to tamper with his equipment tonight?"

"Just whatever you would normally do in a similar circumstance," Cat replied. "I'm hopin' it won't come to that. The asshat tryin' to harm Daddy is too chicken shit to attempt anything with witnesses around. He's a tricky SOB, though, so y'all will need to be alert; he's apt to try masqueradin' as a janitor."

The nurse's eyes widened in surprise and some concern. She was beginning to have seconds thoughts about accepting the assignment.

"You're scaring the poor woman, honey!" Her father pointed out.

"You're not in any danger," Cat assured her. "The culprit is goin' after Daddy to hurt me. As long as y'all keep the door open and can holler loud should you need help, you'll be safe. He won't dare try anything if Daddy's not left alone."

"So you want someone with him at all times," the nurse observed sympathetically. 'The guy must be a real douche bag to want to hurt a sweet man like him!'

"Exactly. So I'd appreciate it if y'all would get someone from the nurses' station to cover if you need to leave the room for any reason. The fewer opportunities the asshat has to pull a stunt, the better," Cat replied dryly.

"Well, don't you worry," Nurse Rose assured her heartily. "I'll watch over your father as if he were my own."

Cat found that last comment reassuring. She liked Rose on sight. She had a warm, yet authoritative air about her that put Cat at ease. "I'll hold all y'all to that!"

"Let me touch base with the nurses about his night time care routine, and I'll be back shortly."

"We'll be here!" Cat replied.

"Some of us don't have much choice!" Her father added ruefully.

Nurse Rose laughed and disappeared down the hall.

Cat returned to her father's bedside, trying to hide her own grin behind a warning frown. "Now, Daddy, y'all just behave yourself!"

"I always behave myself!" He grinned weakly. "You need to watch your language! Where did you learn such words, anyway?"

"Life experiences, Daddy," she grinned unashamedly. "I just try to censor myself around y'all."

"Do me a favor?"

"What's that?"

"Try harder!" He laughed. The laugh turned into a heavy cough that sent a glob of phlegm flying out of his mouth to land right in the center of his chest.

"Holy crap!" She exclaimed, grabbing a wad of tissues from the box on the bed table. "That must've hurt!" She wiped up the mess and added, "Are y'all goin' to be all right?"

Her father shook his head and continued coughing and wheezing. He kept his mouth closed so he wouldn't spray his daughter with mucus only to have his nose start running. The mucus from his nose began collecting in the bi - pap mask.

"Shit!" Cat pressed the call button and cried out "We've got a problem in here!" When the nurse asked how she could help.

Nurse Rose and another nurse rushed in to assist her father. The permanent staff member grabbed the suction device from its' place on the wall and stuck it into Blaine's mouth while Nurse Rose operated the controls to elevate the head of his bed.

"You'll be fine, Rev. Marshall," she assured him. "It's just that nasty virus working itself out."

Cat watched anxiously as the nurses went about the business of assisting her father. It was difficult to hear the suction machine at work. She realized it was helping her father, but the sound made her stomach turn. 'No wonder I didn't become a nurse!'

The floor nurse was finally satisfied that she'd managed to remove the worst of the problem for Blaine and turned off the suction machine. Nurse Rose replaced the oxygen line with the bi pap mask because his oxygen saturation rate had dropped below 85%. The forced flow of air into her father's lungs brought an immediate improvement to his saturation rate. He closed his eyes and sank back against the pillow and mattress.

"What the Hell happened?" Cat asked the floor nurse.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," the nurse replied. "This has happened a few times since your father got here."

"It scared the sh - crap out of me!" She added.

"He apparently got a little too excited. This usually only happens after his PT," the nurse explained.

"He started laughing at a joke he made," she admitted ruefully. "Next thing I know he's barkin' like a huntin' dog and spat a big ole coobie right on his chest!"

"That's what did it then," the nurse nodded. "People forget that pnuemonia can behave like a cold; it irritates the lungs and the rest of the respiratory system, which causes the excess mucus. Coughing can be a good thing; it dislodges the mucus that carries the germs."

"But I guess in Daddy's case, since he's so weak, it's not so good," Cat sighed.

"Yes and no," the nurse advised. "That's why we're keeping his head elevated as we are; if he'd been flat on his back he could've drowned!"

"Gads!" Cat shook her head and glanced at her father. His eyes were closed but she knew he wasn't asleep; his face was slightly flushed from being talked about. He opened his eyes and winked slightly at his daughter as if signaling to her that he was fine and not to worry about him.

The nurse smiled at the patient, then laid a comforting hand on Cat's shoulder. "You did the right thing in calling us. But you might as well go on home; spells like this always exhaust him."

Cat stepped to her father's side and bent down to kiss his cheek. "You rest well, Daddy. I'll be back tomorrow."

Her father was too weak to say goodbye, but he managed to get enough strength to wiggle a finger at her. It was the best goodbye gesture he could manage. He felt a slight pressure on his wrist as warm, gentle fingers wrapped around it.

"I'm just taking your pulse, Rev. Marshall," Nurse Rose explained "You just rest and concentrate on getting better."

Her calm reassurance and gentle manner made him feel secure and relaxed. He sighed and allowed himself to fall into a deeper sleep.

Hours passed as the nurse alternately sat vigilantly in the chair Cat had placed beside the bed opposite the door way and looked after her charge's needs. Every so often she had to use the suction device to remove phlegm from his airway, but otherwise he required very little care. Vital signs were taken and recorded at regular intervals, and meds given through the IV drip.

Nurse Rose didn't need a room light to see what she was doing. The bright light from the hallway gave her plenty of illumination to perform her tasks. She expected the patient to protest the light coming into the room, but he never said a word.

She didn't have a lot of contact with the floor staff that night, except to provide the vital readings to the floor nurse when she passed by on rounds, or when a nursing assistant came to relieve her for her meal break. The only other visitor Nurse Rose had was the friendly janitor who just stopped in to see what needed cleaning in the room.

'That was several hours ago! I wonder if he came through while I was at lunch?' She wondered during the early hours of the morning. The floor was quiet and her patient sleeping soundly. She looked around the room, but it didn't look any different than before her dinner break. She looked around the room, inspecting the waste bakets and the bin for the plastic coverings. None of them had been emptied. 'That's strange! Surely he would've been here by now!'

She started around the bed, intending to see if the nurse on duty was approaching on rounds. She stopped short when the janitor appeared in the doorway of the room across from her patient's.

---

'Brownie' watched the special duty nurse in Blaine Marshall's room for hours and was growing more frustrated by the minute. 'The gash just won't leave!' He fumed, frowning into the darkness. If the special duty nurse wasn't in the room, another staff member took over when she went to a meal or the restroom or was present long enough to take vital signs and other reports or deliver medicines.

'That fuckin' bitch really screwed me over!' He grumbled to himself. 'She obviously told 'em not to leave him alone for any length of time! Shit!'

He kept watching the room in hopes that the special duty nurse might leave Rev. Marshall alone to take a leak, only to be let down every time. He was so intent on not missing an opportunity to strike out at the ailing man that he completely forgot about his earlier conversation with the nurse.

A few hours later, he noticed that she was moving around the room away from the bed, as if she were inspecting it. 'Oh, oh! I totally forgot about my cover, and I don't have any of the equipment with me! Can't have her comparin' notes with the nurses, or my cover's blown for good!'

He stood up, ignoring the pain in his legs and back from the prolonged sitting, and stumbled to the entrance of the room. He blinked owlishly in the glare of the hall lighting and heard the nurse gasp in surprise.

"Howdy!" He stated amiably. "Didn't mean to scare ya!"

Nurse Rose placed a hand over her heart and smiled guiltily at him. "I wasn't expecting to see anyone come out of that room!" She laughed shakily.

"Sorry, just tryin' to get all my work done! Only one of us janitors workin' overnight these days," he apologized.

"That explains things then!" Nurse Rose smiled. "I was wondering why the room hadn't been cleaned yet!"

"I'll be headin' that way directly, workin' one side, then comin' back down to ya," he explained.

"That's fine, I'll be here," Nurse Rose replied.

'That's what I'm afraid of,' he observed dryly while smiling cordially at her. "See ya in a few!"

He waited until she turned her back on him, then he slipped into the hallway and rushed to the stairwell. 'Now I'll have to get one of those damn carts and pretend like I've come from the opposite end of the hall from the room!'

Getting the utility cart wouldn't be a problem, but he was concerned about getting past the nurse's station. If any of the nurses saw him, they might be more willing to challenge his presence. 'It's just a chance I'm gonna have to take!'

He rushed on down to the basement, found a utility cart and pushed it to the elevator. It was the only one he could trust, though he had found a service elevator in the basement. He cursed himself for not checking into that when he scoped out the lay of the land earlier. 'That was pretty stupid! I could've taken the service car and not have to worry about the nurses! With my luck, the fuckin' thing is shut off anyway!'

He pushed the utility cart through the open elevator door into the second floor waiting lounge. No one was using it, so he left the cart there and slipped quietly down the hall towards the nurse's station. He plastered himself against the wall and listened carefully. He couldn't hear anything like a pen scratch or keystrokes, but that didn't necessarily mean no one was stationed there.

'Brownie' moved his head past the wall until he could see into the nurse's station while remaining hidden to them. His luck seemed to be changing; none of the night nurses were present. 'I'm not in the clear yet! They could be out in the hall on rounds or some shit!'

He moved forward to the other wall that separated the nurses's station from the entry hallway, plastered his body against it, and peeked down the hall. Again, his luck seemed to be turning out for the better, none of the nurses were in the hall.

'It's now or never!' He thought, rushing back to the lounge to retrieve the cart. He pushed it past the nurse's station and on down the hall, keeping an eye out for one of the regular staff. 'It'll be just my luck to meet one of 'em comin' out of a room!'

---

"There's a limit to what a person can do to protect their family, Gemma!" Tara exclaimed. "You just can't go around physically harming people to protect your family - or to get people to do what you want!"

Gemma stared at her protege for a moment. "I didn't hear you complain about getting custody of Abel!" She retorted. "Nor did you squawk about offing the caregiver!"

"That was different, and you know it!" Tara exclaimed. "That was self defense on your part, the bitch had just put a knife to your throat!"

"I defended my family from a junkie whore!" Gemma stated.

"Like you were defending your family when Cherry came to town?" Tara challenged.

"That was a mistake," Gemma grunted.

"You struck first and asked why she was there later," Tara replied. "Didn't you feel foolish when you found out she'd come to see Sack instead of Clay?"

"Do you really want an answer to that?"

Tara shook her head. "It's not that I don't enjoy having custody of Abel, I just wish you would've handled it a little differently!"

Wendy placed the legal document on the table in front of her textbook and looked up at Gemma. Her eyes shone with tears, both from the pain in her arm and the pain of being removed from her child's life. "Why are you doing this? I'm trying to do something with my life so I can be a good mom!"

"You said the same thing when you were pregnant, but you didn't follow through!" Gemma replied. "Jax has moved on, sweetheart. He's going to marry Tara when he's out of prison and she's carrying his baby! Let them be a family!"

"You just have to rub it in, don't you, Gemma!" She cried. "It's bad enough he made his preference glaringly obvious at Donna's funeral! Did you have to tell me Tara's pregnant with Jax's child?"

"I didn't intend for that to come up in the conversation," Gemma shrugged.

"Bullshit! You intended to bring it up all along!" Wendy hissed, holding her injured arm in her palm. The unsigned document still lay on the table between them. "You're really good at literally twisting people - in more ways than one - to get what you want!"

Gemma sighed and sat down in the chair across from her former daughter - in - law. "Can't you see that having Tara as a mother is good for Abel? She doesn't have the cloud of drug abuse hovering over her. You've been in sober living for what - a few months? How can you be sure you'll stay drug free around him?"

"How can you be so sure I can't be?" Wendy countered angrily. "You've already made up your mind against me!"

"Then sign the document," Gemma replied.

Wendy shook her head. "I can't concentrate on reading it with this pain!"

"Sign the document and you can get relief," Gemma countered mercilessly.

"I'll call the front desk!" Wendy cried, reaching for the landline.

Gemma leaped out of her chair and moved in front of the telephone, blocking Wendy's reach. "That won't do you any good. The security around here is pretty lax for a half way house!"

"It's not a half way house!" Wendy hissed painfully. "It's a sober living center. It's like a college dorm, though we do have to sign in and out whenever we leave, and we're tested regularly."

"And you all join hands every night and sing 'Kum Bah Yah'!" Gemma snorted disdainfully. "Just sign the document and I'll leave you alone."

"I'll sign it after I get this taken care of!" Wendy stated emphatically, indicating her swelling arm.

"She can't go the hospital!" Gemma protested. "How are you going to explain it?"

"I'll tell 'em I stumbled and fell on my arm. It's happened around here before," Wendy explained through gritted teeth. "Unlike bullet wounds and sexual assault, broken bones don't have to be reported to the police."

"You don't have insurance," Gemma pointed out.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Wendy observed dryly. "If you want me to sign the document, you'll pay the bill."

"And if I don't?"

"Then I'll tell anyone who'll listen what you did to me and have you arrested!" Wendy replied.

"I doubt you'll do that!" Gemma growled warningly.

"Wanna bet?" Wendy grinned. "The game changed the minute you broke my arm, Gemma. I'm in control now, and if you want my co - operation, you'll play by my rules!"

"You're a fast learner," Gemma remarked, nodding in resignation.

"I had a good teacher," Wendy smirked.

"OK, maybe it was a little over the top," Gemma reluctantly admitted. "Abel's safe, that's the most important thing."

'But at what price?' Tara thought, staring out the side window as if the desert land held the answer.

---

'Brownie's' luck continued to hold as he piloted the cart down the hall to Rev. Marshall's room. He was walking backward, pulling the cart with him, to make it appear to the special duty nurse that he'd arrived from the opposite direction. It turned out that he didn't need to go to such extremes; Nurse Rose had her back to the door, attending to the patient's medication.

"Hey, there!" He called softly so he wouldn't disturb the patient. "Is it OK to clean up in here?"

"Sure," she called over her shoulder. "Go head."

'Brownie' pushed the cart inside the room so the staff nurses wouldn't see it, then set about removing the plastic liners from the trash cans and the plastic body cover bin, replacing them with new bags.

"Want me to wash down the floor?" He asked.

"It should be cleaned," Nurse Rose admitted. "You'll need me out of the way I guess."

"It'll be quicker," he admitted. "If you need to go get anything from the nurse's station or drug room, go ahead while I'm workin' in here."

"I'll just stand here in the doorway," Nurse Rose replied, moving to the entry. "i'm not supposed to leave the patient alone."

"He won't be alone," 'Brownie' reminded her patiently. "I'll be here."

"I realize that, dear," Nurse Rose stated just as patiently. "But the orders are that a medical person be with the patient."

"Suit yourself!" 'Brownie' shrugged, slightly miffed that his offer had been turned down. He hadn't intended to wash the floor, he just wanted to get her out of the way so he could wreak havoc with Rev. Marshall's equipment. 'Not much I can do now!' He huffed to himself, proceeding to wash the floor tiles with the disinfectant solution.

He started with the bathroom, and moved backwards towards the patient's bed. He worked quickly and quietly, while pondering his ever changing luck. 'All I need now is for those staff nurses to rat me out!' He drew nearer to Rev. Marshall's reclining form, swinging the mop in a wide arc ahead of him.

"Be careful, hon!" Nurse Rose called out softly. "You don't want to mop yourself into a corner!"

"Doesn't look like much corner space is available!" He remarked dryly. But he moved so that he left dry tile to walk on near the wall.

"Guess I don't have to remind you to watch out for the bi - pap hose and other dangling wires!" She grinned.

"No ma'am. I'll do my best to be careful," he replied, moving next to the bed and bending so that he could swipe the mop under it.

He smiled evilly as he locked gazes with the patient. Rev. Marshall's eyes were wide open and trying to focus on him. Those eyes were wide with fright because 'Brownie' was using his normal voice, which Blaine remembered from the Christmas phone call years earlier.

Blaine's eyes snapped wide open when he heard 'Brownie's voice in the entrance to his room that night. His body quaked with fear and his heart rate increased but not enough to make the monitor alarm go off so the nurse wasn't made aware of it until she turned back to him after the janitor left. By that time, his heart rate was only slightly elevated.

"I see you're awake, Rev. Marshall," she stated warmly.

"For the moment," he replied shakily. "I heard someone talking."

"Oh! I'm sorry! We didn't mean to wake you!" Nurse Rose exclaimed. "I was just talking with the janitor."

"His voice sounded familiar to me," Blaine explained weakly. "So familiar that It scared me."

"I imagine hearing voices would startle you out of a sound sleep," the nurse observed compassionately. "His voice is probably familiar because he works here."

Blaine shook his head in denial. "That's not it, Nurse," he rasped. "I know that voice!"

"Yes, you do, from previous nights that he's worked. You're just a little disoriented, Rev. Marshall," she cooed soothingly.

Though still foggy from sleep, Blaine was frightened by that voice. It confirmed what he suspected that day. He also realized he would not be able to convince the nurse ot the danger 'Brownie' represented to him. 'I should be safe; Cat got this nurse so I wouldn't be left alone with him!'

"Well, he's not here right now, Rev. Marshall. I expect he'll be back by a little later to clean your room."

"Don't leave me!" He pleaded.

"I won't. Your daughter was very specific that someone on the medical staff be with you if I can't be," she assured him.

Blaine nodded and willed himself to relax. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life, but he held fast to Cat's promise that he wouldn't be left alone with 'Brownie', falling into a troubled slumber.

Blaine moaned in his sleep and stirred slightly while 'Brownie' worked near him. As the fake janitor leaned down to mop under the bed, Brownie murmured just loud enough for the patient to hear, "Hello fucker! Are ya dreamin' about me?"

The whispered words woke him as effectively as a splash of cold water in the face. Blaine didn't react to the man's vile words, hoping if he pretended to be asleep, 'Brownie' would leave him alone.

"Playin' possum, eh?" The patient's tormentor snickered. "That's all right. I know you can can hear me, old man, so get this straight. I know you recognized me earlier and maybe that cunt daughter of yours did too. Good luck tryin' to get anyone else to believe ya!" He gave another full swipe of the floor under the bed with the mop, deliberately making contact with the IV stand as he did so.

The stand teetered for a few seconds, causing Nurse Rose to rush inside the room to catch it before it fell. She slipped on the wet floor and fell on her rear end. The IV stand fell across her lap. The bag of saline fell onto the floor, catching against a rough spot on the bed frame and split open, sending fluid all over the floor and the nurse.

"Oh gosh! I'm sorry about that! Are ya OK?" 'Brownie' asked the nurse.

"Just injured my dignity, and made a bit of a mess," she replied, looking around her at her sopping wet skirt. "If you don't mind cleaning this up while I wait at the door for a nurse to bring a replacement bag."

"I don't mind, but why should you stand in a wet dress waiting for a staff member? I'm sure nothing will happen if you go get a clean uniform and a replacement bag of liquid," 'Brownie' offered contritely while mopping up the mess.

"No, I'd best not. But you can help by going after one of the staff nurses and telling them what happened. One of them can bring me a replacement uniform and saline bag."

'Shit!' He snorted to himself while leaning the mop handle against the wall. "If you insist," he replied, holding out his hands to help her up. "Just thought ya'd want outta that wet thing as soon as possible."

"Oh, I do, but orders are orders," Nurse Rose explained, accepting his assistance in getting up from the floor. She set the IV pole upright while 'Brownie' trudged out the door. He had no intention of going to the nurses' station. 'I'll just wait a couple of minutes and then tell her no one's there. She'll have to leave the room then!'

He stepped into the doorway of the room next to Rev. Marshall's, being careful not to wake the sleeping patient. He mentally counted to 100, then walked out of the room and headed back to the minister's room.

"Sorry, ma'am. No one's at the desk," he announced quietly. "Guess you'll have to handle it yourself." He noticed that the nurse had wrapped a towel around her waist in his absence.

"I'm more worried about replacing the saline solution than my own comfort," she mused.

"You don't want air getting into that IV line, that's for sure," he observed sympathetically.

"That's true. I guess it won't hurt anything to leave you here long enough to grab a bag of saline from the drug room," she stated. "It won't even take two minutes."

'More than enough time for what I wanna do!' He thought gleefully as she hurried out of the room. The mop was still leaning against the wall next to Rev. Marshall's bed. He walked around the bed and bent down so that his mouth was close to the patient's ear.

"You see, old fuck?" He laughed snidely. "I can make anyone believe anything I want 'em to, and there's not a damn thing ya can do to change it! No matter how many special nurses that bitch gets, or how many outlaws are guardin' her and you, I'll always win!"

The squeak of rubber soles on the hallway floor alerted him to the nurse's return. He straightened up, schooled his features into polite concern, and leaned against his mop.

"He never stirred," he reported.

"Good. I really shouldn't have left him, but this needed to be replaced," she hung the replacement bag on the stand and attached the line to it, making sure no air bubble got into the line between the liquid already in the line and the new fluid.

"I'm sure his daughter will understand," he assured her. He watched intently in hopes that an air bubble would slip through the line, but the nurse was too adept at the job and the transition was safely made. She checked the patient's monitors, frowning to note an increase in heart rate.

"Anything wrong?" He asked.

"Not really. He must be dreaming," the nurse replied. "It's not unusual for readings to change a bit during sleep."

"Well, I'd better get movin'," he shrugged, pushing the cart ahead of him to the door. "Got a couple more rooms to finish. Sorry again."

"Don't worry about it. You didn't have enough light to work with. Next time I'll remember not to stand right in the middle of the door so you'll have more light."

'Brownie' nodded pleasantly whlie he checked the hallway to be sure the coast was clear. None of the night staff were lurking around, so he pushed the cart out of the room and made the left turn as if he were going to the next room.

'Shit! I don't like the sound of that!' He observed angrily to himself. 'Guess I'll have to make a return visit later as 'Rev Jones' and find out how long those witches are gonna be here!'

He saw the night nurses sitting at a table well away from the nurses' station. 'Shit! Did she mention me to them?' He tread water a few feet from them, watching them intently as they worked on the charts. 'Nah,' he decided. 'They wouldn't be sittin' on their asses if she had mentioned me!' He slipped past them without making a sound and escaped into the elevator.

---

Blaine waited anxiously waited while Nurse Rose replaced the IV bag and the fake janitor left the room. He knew it was going to be a waste of time and his precious energy, but he had to tell the nurse the incident with the IV stand hadn't been an accident.

"Nurse Rose," he croaked weakly.

"It's all right, Rev. Marshall. It was just a small accident."

He shook his head vehemently. "Why won't you listen to me? That man isn't a janitor for this hospital!"

Nurse Rose opened her mouth to placate the patient, but stopped as she thought over his comment. It sounded a lot like the situation he'd experienced at the other hospital that the patient's daughter had told her about.

"If you don't believe me, ask the floor nurse!" He croaked wildly, struggling feebly against the restraints. "They'll tell you there's no janitors assigned here overnight!"

The alarm monitors for his vital signs began blaring. Both his heart rate and blood pressure were rising. She pressed a button over the bed that would alert the nurses at the desk that she needed help. "Calm down, Rev. Marshall! You're not doing yourself any good!"

"Ask them!" He breathed harshly.

The floor nurse on duty rushed into the room, carrying a tray filled syringe. She took one look at the alarm and plunged the syringe into the fill bubble of the IV.

"Please!" Blaine whispered as the tranquilizer rushed through his bloodstream. His eyes fluttered a few times, then closed. The alarms quit blaring and the monitor alarm light went dark.

"What happened?" The floor nurse asked, pointing at Nurse Rose's sopping wet skirt.

"There was a janitor in here earlier, he accidentally knocked over the IV stand and the bag ruptured," she explained.

The floor nurse frowned intently. "What janitor?"

"Don't you have janitors working third shift?"

The floor nurse shook her head. "Not since the rest of the hospital closed," she replied. "I'll get you a dry set of scrubs to change into, and then we'd better write-up an incident report. Whoever that man was that tipped over the IV stand, he wasn't an employee!" She strode to the door and added, "I have a feeling knocking over the IV stand was no accident!"

---

Cat slept fitfully throughout the night, worried that 'Brownie' might attempt some kind of mischief overnight on her father. She didn't expect the hospital or the special would call her unless something really serious happened to her father. That didn't prevent her from worrying or from having bad dreams about what 'Brownie' might do to him. She awoke feeling out of sorts, worried, and tired. Her eyes were gritty from a lack of sleep. 'Wish I could sleep awhile longer, but got too much to do before visitin' hours!'

She hadn't had reason to use it yet, but she'd discovered wi-fi equipment in her bedroom. It was a discovery she'd opted not to share with her 'Illinois Boys'. She didn't want to run up a lot of use, and they'd either play a lot of on-line games or get onto all kinds on porn sites if they knew the access was available. 'I feel guilty enough about usin' someone else's service without the guys goin' hog wild!'

Guilt didn't prevent her from making use of the abandoned equipment to do the necessary research she intend to do that morning. There was just too much for her iPhone to handle. She started with researching the contact information she would need for Good Samaritan. She copied both the human resources department and the main switchboard in her phone contact list.

Then she pulled up the web site for DePauw University. She already knew that there was no divinity school nor department. But she did find a directory of students, and wasn't too surprised that the particular 'Jones' she was looking for wasn't listed.

"Not that it means I've caught him in the lie, I'll need to follow-up with the registrar's office," she murmured, adding that telephone number to the list of contacts on her phone, which lit up with a familiar telephone number and the smiling face of her unofficial niece/god-daughter, June's child affectionately known as 'Critter'.

Cat smiled in delight, she'd intended to call her family while she was in the area, but things had gotten away from her. "Hey, kid!" She exclaimed. "I was thinkin' of y'all!"

"Mom emailed me this weekend about your father. My fiance and I just got back in town," she explained apologetically. "Otherwise I'd have called sooner."

"That's all right, darlin'. It's good to hear from y'all," Cat assured her. "How's the kitties?"

"Snubbing us for leaving them with just dry food to munch on," 'Critter' laughed. "They won't snub us very long."

"I suspect not, the minute you open the can, they'll be rubbin' up against you, forgivin' everything," Cat replied. "Did you two have a good time?"

"We did. We went to Holiday World and did everything there was to do and see," she reported.

"Would you believe I went there when it first opened in Spencer County?"

"Were the rides made of stone?" the younger woman joked.

"Almost. There weren't a lot of rides back then, and no water park. But there was a pettin' zoo."

"I hope you haven't been stuck at the hospital all this time," 'Critter' remarked. "I know Rev. Marshall's pretty sick, but you have to take care of yourself."

"Hmmm, guess I need to update my Facebook status," Cat sighed. "Otherwise June would've told y'all that I went on a ride this weekend."

"Somehow I can't picture you sitting on the back of some guy's bike!"

"I didn't," Cat admitted with a laugh. "My Yamaha didn't sell, so I rode it with a few friends." She didn't see the need to tell 'Critter' that members of the charters were with her. The fewer who knew about the 'Illinois Boys' and 'Brownie's' presence, the better.

"Good for you. Is your father showing any improvement?"

"Not really, honey," Cat sighed. "But he's not deteriorated, so there's hope."

"Do you want me to come down to be with you?"

"No," Cat replied emphatically. Before 'Critter could protest, she added, "But if all y'all wanna come down to visit, you're more than welcome. We can hang out in the lounge and visit so Daddy doesn't get tired out."

"You had me fooled for a minute there, Cat," the young woman complained.

"I've had calls from Bill's family, and told 'em the same thing, darlin'. I welcome the company, and Daddy will surely appreciate short visits," Cat explained.

"I understand. You don't want him to get the wrong impression with a parade of visitors coming around," she observed.

"Bingo!" Cat grinned. She gave the girl the address for the hospital along with the visiting hours. "Just come on up to the second floor," she added.

"I'll map it out and see you in a couple of days," June's daughter assured her.

"I'll look forward to seein' all y'all. So bring that handsome hunk of yours along!"

Cat was still smiling after the call ended. Between Bill's parents and his aunt and uncle, plus June's daughter and fiancé coming to visit, she wouldn't have a lot of time to fret. 'As for 'Brownie', I'll tell them about him only if it becomes necessary," she decided.

She left her bedroom long enough to check in with her guardian and get some coffee. The riders had left one full cup in the pot for her. "Hey!" She called from the kitchen.

BZ appeared in the kitchen doorway, a look of concern on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Who emptied the pot and didn't make fresh?" She growled, holding up the nearly empty pot.

BZ rolled his eyes. "It ain't empty, there's still some in it."

"Barely," Cat muttered. "New rule. If there's only a cup left, make new anyway. It all gets mixed together in the long run."

"I'll tell the guys," BZ sighed in resignation. "You gonna come out to the porch anytime soon?"

"Later. I'm still doin' all that research. Just came out for some cawfee , but some discourteous male drank it all!"

"I resemble that remark!" BZ grinned while she set up the pot for another brew cycle.

"I notice," she retorted, pouring creamer into her cup and carrying it back to her room. "You are permitted to let me know when the pot's finished brewin'," she tossed back over her shoulder.

"Your wish is my command, my Queen!" BZ remarked, bowing low at the waist and miming the removal of a non-existent hat from his head.

"See to it that y'all remember that!" She grinned before closing the door on his retort.

---

'Brownie' lay in Diane's large bed, gazing at the ceiling and reviewing his late night foray at the hospital. Overall, he was pleased with the outcome, though he was still seething that Cat had tried to ruin his fun by hiring a special nurse. 'I definitely put one over on the old bitch!' He smirked. 'That'll teach the gash to try to mess with my plans!'

He decided to make a return visit to the hospital as 'Rev. Jones'. He realized Cat would be suspicious of his making another visit during the weekday. 'Easily explained away, don't have classes until Tuesday, thought I'd pay one more call before going back to class,' he assured himself.

It never occurred to him that she might check out his claim with the school. As far as he was concerned, Cat had swallowed his story hook, line, and sinker and wouldn't feel the need to verify it. 'I can't believe how gullible she still is!' He gloated.

He hated to admit it, but he found Cat much more desirable than when he'd first met her. He hadn't had much time to look at her months earlier when he was orchestrating the events that led to the end of her marriage.. 'She lost weight and looks damn hot now. I won't mind tappin' that. At least I won't wanna hurl from doin' so!'

He didn't encounter Jamesn. He hadn't expected to, but 'Brownie' had an excuse ready in case the houseboy was checking up on him. Before he went to bed, he canvassed the house for trinkets that he could pawn to add to his pocket money. He found a large box of silver in a china cabinet buried under a pile of neatly folded napkins. Neither the silver nor the napkins - if the crease in the napkin fold was any indication - was used much. The silver was gleaming from polish, so it was well cared for. 'I can get a good price on these at any pawn shop!'

He carried the box back to Diane's room. 'Carryin' in a bunch of silver without the box is a dead giveaway that it's hot.' It was also easier to carry; he could stow the box in a computer bag he intended to 'borrow' from Diane's closet. It would also be easier to sneak past James in the morning.

He was pleased with the results of his late night excursion. 'Rev. Marshall is definitely scared shitless of me, which is just what I want! Old fuck deserves it for makin' it so hard for me to find that bitch offspring of his!'

He was hard pressed to believe how easily led Cat had remained. "Ya'd think after all these years she'd have more brains than to let authority figures lead her around like that! Doctor tells her it's so, and she takes it at face value without question! Dumb bitch!" He scoffed.

A nagging internal voice reminded him that she'd been smart enough to hire a special nurse to protect her fathe overnight. 'Not that it did any good! Maybe I didn't get to mess with his breathin' apparatus, but I managed to cause a little mayhem!" He laughed to himself.

He was actually looking forward to matching wits with Cat. He knew he would come out on top, but it would still be fun for him to fuck with her mind. 'It'll get her ready for the real one to come!"

---

Cat frowned in consternation as she reviewed the information on her computer screen. She had placed all her findings from the morning's research into 'Rev. Sam Jones' and the Vincennes hospital janitor into one document on her laptop. The results of her research were chilling. DePauw had no registration for any such student and she'd eventually determined from Bill Vaughn at Good Samaritan that the janitor who'd upset her father, 'Evan', had left for a two-week vacation in Indianapolis the day before the divinity student showed up.

Vaughn hadn't been willing to tell her anything about his employee until she pointed out that he could face dire consequences if he didn't co - operate with her. "I'm sure Human Resources will want to know why y'all refused to help me when they're the ones that told me to contact you," she added. "They might be inclined to consider y'all are just as guilty as 'Evan' for the treatment he gave my father."

That had been enough to insure Vaughn's co - operation. He agreed to send a copy of Evan's photo ID to her email address. "I doubt that he's the person you think he is," Vaughn retorted. "His references checked out."

"Of course they did!" Cat huffed. "Cory Brown has ties to a worldwide mercenary network. Do y'all really think they wouldn't have made sure his fake ID would pass a cursory inspection?"

Vaughn didn't know anything about mercenaries, but he had a feeling that he and the hospital had been duped. Big time. "I guess not," he replied.

"Don't worry. I don't believe in filin' bullshit lawsuits, so you and the hospital are safe. He's good at pullin' the wool over unsuspectin' peoples' eyes. All y'all aren't the first," Cat assured him brusquely. 'But somehow I intend to see to it that all y'all are the last!'

While she waited for the email, she accessed the on-line archives for the Terre Haute newspaper and the story about her near death experience. 'If I recall correctly, they ran a picture of 'Brownie' in case anyone would turn his ass in. I can use that picture as a reference to see if the Good Sam janitor has any resemblance to him.'

She found the article and the picture within minutes. The sight of that once loved face was still able to stir heartache and dread in her. She saved the picture to a file while sternly willing herself to set the fear aside. She used a photo editing program to age the picture. When the email arrived, she saved the original and copied it to the same program and then saved the file in her laptop's documents folder.

She studied the two pictures intently. Putting them side by side enabled her to see some marked similarities in facial structure. 'The boys ain't goin' to like this at all!' She sighed in resignation. She shut down the laptop and walked to her door. "BZ?" She called.

The outlaw in question instantly appeared in the door leading to the front porch. "You called, m'lady?"

"Yeah. The rest of the guys around?"

He nodded. "They're upstairs. Your blond friend is here, too," he added.

"Get 'em down here. I've got some intel to share," she announced.

"I've got this!" He replied, rushing up the stairs to the outlaws' apartment.

Cat stepped into the kitchen to fortify herself with more coffee before going out to the porch to wait for the others. She stopped at her room long enough to grab her laptop, then proceeded on to the porch.

"Mornin', hun," Ron greeted her from a far corner of the porch. He was leaning against the ledge that ran along the entire interior. "You doing OK?"

"Yeah, kinda," she sighed, placing the laptop on the table and sinking into a chair.

"Sounds like the weight of the world's on your shoulders, hun," he observed. "Is it that bad?"

"It's not about Daddy, but it's not good news, that's for damn sure," she replied.

"What is it?" He inquired worriedly.

"I'll tell y'all when the rest of the guys get here," she explained. "I'd rather not have to go through it twice."

"Fair enough," Ron shrugged.

They didn't have long to wait. BZ and Cavey led the pack into the front porch. Some of the 'Illinois Boys' carried cups of coffee with them.

"Cop a squat, guys," Cat announced. "I've got info to share with all y'all." She waited until the riders were settled and shared the results of her extensive research with them. "I found an old newspaper picture of 'Brownie' and age enhanced it," she added, turning the laptop around to face them. "I placed it next to this photo of the janitor that scared Daddy at the Vincennes hospital."

BZ and Cavey were the first to approach the computer screen. They carefully compared the pictures. "Sure looks similar!" BZ huffed.

"I agree. change the 'air color on the janitor, and there's a resemblance to that vicar!" Cavey added.

The other Illinois outlaws gathered around the notepad to gaze at the pictures. "It's definitely pummelin' time!" Shank growled.

Cat held up her hand in protest. "Hang on, kiddo! I'm still not completely convinced that it's 'Brownie'."

Ron shook his head. "Cat, hun, how much more proof do you need? The guy obviously lied to you about bein' a student, that's reason enough to turn your posse loose on 'im!"

The other men murmured in agreement. They were just as surprised as 'Big Bird' that she was still reluctant to let them handle the matter.

"Oh, all y'all are goin' to get your chance," she assured them. "I just want to give him a taste of his own medicine."

"How so?" GB inquired.

"I'm goin' to mention that I tried to find out the name of his academic advisor to send a note of appreciation to him, and see what kind of reaction I get," Cat replied expansively. "I want to see just how deep he's willing to bury himself."

"Do ya think that's wise?" Yum asked worriedly. "It could be dangerous."

"He can be dangerous when he's backed into a corner," she admitted. "But that shitbird's also smart enough not to cause trouble in front of witnesses - most of the time."

The men grinned knowingly, recalling that he had attacked her right in front of hang arounds and prospects at the Terre Haute MC's clubhouse. That was onetime that he'd not been smart.

"I suppose you're right, kitten," BZ sighed. "But I've got a bad feelin' about this."

---

Ally Lowen sighed in resignation when the receptionist informed her Gemma Morrow was in the lobby. 'Sometimes being the legal eagle for the club can be a burden!' She took a few deep breaths, then pasted a welcoming smile on her face as she stepped out of her office and walked into the lobby. "Hello, Gemma! What a pleasant surprise!"

"Yeah," Gemma huffed. "We need to talk." Gemma strode on down the hall into the Lowen's office.

Ally shrugged and followed the biker queen, closing the door and sliding into her chair behind her desk. Gemma had already withdrawn a legal document and tossed it on the desk. "All signed, mouthpiece. All you have to do is file it accordingly."

"That was fast," Lowen remarked, skimming through the document. She was relieved to find no blood stains on it. "Did she read it through?"

"She's aware of what it means," Gemma replied sourly.

"You forced her to sign it," Lowen observed.

"I 'persuaded' her that it would be in her best interests," Gemma retorted. "It's signed, isn't that the main thing?"

"Despite your powers of 'persuasion', she has three days to change her mind," Ally explained.

"She won't."

"Don't be so sure. Once Wendy has some time to think about it, she could easily decide to fight this. Especially if you coerced her into signing. A judge could throw it out for that reason."

"She won't," Gemma repeated with a note of finality in her voice. 'Not if she knows what's good for her!'

Ally felt a chill run up her spine from the implied threat in Gemma's icy reply. "I'll file these papers in a couple of days."

"Why the delay?" Gemma countered. "She's not gonna change her mind!"

"That's the law, darlin'," Ally stated.

"Yeah," Gemma sighed. Though she wasn't happy about the delay, she visibly relaxed for the first time since she entered the office. "See ya around, mouthpiece."

Ally did a slow count to 100 to insure the biker queen had left, then buzzed the receptionist to make certain the coast was clear.

"She's already left the parking lot," the receptionist reported.

"Good. Get a next day courier envelope for me. I have something that will need to go out tonight."

Gemma had overlooked the fact that while signing the document, Wendy had included her address on it. Maybe it wasn't acting within the best interests of the client, but Ally felt a need to do the right thing and sent Wendy a copy of the signed document. 'It won't hurt to recommend a couple of lawyers in Seattle in case she wants to dispute this! I have no doubt that Gemma forced her to sign. I just hope Wendy didn't have a skateboard in Gemma's reach!'

---

"I don't know why I bothered to give all y'all my local contact info!" Cat complained to the Head Nurse. She'd stopped at the nurse's station to check on her father's night with the special duty nurse and learned about the fake janitor. "Why didn't y'all call me about this?"

"Your father wasn't hurt," the Head Nurse explained. "It wasn't until the 'janitor' left the floor that we knew anything was wrong. What could you have done about it that we couldn't?"

"You'd be surprised, darlin'," Cavey grinned.

Cat opened her laptop and retrieved the program with 'Evan's' picture. She turned the screen to the nurse and pointed to the picture. "Does this look like him?"

"I can't answer that, Mrs. Trager," the Head Nurse replied. "I'm sorry."

"Where's the special?"

"She left when the shift ended."

"Shit!" Cat fumed.

"She did write an incident report. I can let you look it over to see if her description of the man matches that picture," the Head Nurse offered.

"I'd better read it," she murmured.

Cavey placed a hand on her shoulder. "Take it easy, Kitten. Save your ire for 'im that deserves it."

The head nurse smiled gratefully at him while she slid the report across onto the counter to her. Cavey winked at the nurse and leaned against the counter while Cat reviewed the form.

The detailed report wasn't as helpful as she hoped. The description the special duty nurse had written of the janitor didn't give her much of a mental picture of his appearance. She couldn't be certain that the janitor was 'Evan' or the divinity student. "What's going to happen about this from here?"

"It'll be turned over to security," the nurse explained warily.

"What good will that do?" She inquired sharply. "Security's not around at night, except for parking lot patrol!"

"It's our procedure, Mrs. Trager," the nurse stated.

"What about involvin' the police? This guy is a definite threat to my father!"

"In your opinion," the nurse pointed out. "So far, this man has only made one appearance here, and while it's disturbing that he passed himself off as an employee, it's not a crime."

"I suspect this asshat has made more than one visit, but I'm not goin' to waste time tryin' to convince y'all of it," Cat growled angrily.

She closed the laptop and shoved it into the carry bag, then led Cavey back to the lounge where the rest of the 'Illinois boys' and 'Big Bird' waited. The moment they saw her grim features, they knew she was no closer to a firm conclusion than ever.

"Now what?" Shank grumbled.

"We wait," BZ replied.

"For what?" Shank growled.

"For him to come back," Cat stated.

"Besides, that shitbird might be feelin' pretty full of himself, and might show up again just to rub your nose in it!" Yum pointed out.

"I'm actually countin' on it!" She grinned slyly. "I've already planned what we'll do when he does show up!"

---

Wendy's arm didn't require surgery to repair the break. "You're lucky the bones weren't shattered," the doctor explained to her as he reviewed the X - ray with her. "Setting the bones might be a little painful, so we'll give you a pain shot and write a 'script."

Wendy vehemently shook her head. "I'm a recovering addict, so no narcotics, please."

The doctor winced in sympathy. "That's going to be rough for you. I can prescribe a strong analgesic, but it won't do much for you."

"That's fine," Wendy sighed. "I'll deal with it."

"There's just one thing that puzzles me," the doctor added as he moved to the door.

"What's that?"

"That break looks more like someone twisted your arm than from having weight applied to it from a fall. Do you care to tell me what really happened? Maybe I can help."

"I told you how it happened, doctor!" Wendy replied tersely. "I stumbled on the carpet in my apartment and fell. Fortunately my ex mother - in - law was visiting and was able to bring me here for treatement!"

The doctor stared intently at her. His expression clearly indicated that he didn't believe the patient, but he wasn't going to press her to confide in him. "Just thought I'd ask," the doctor sighed. "Just relax. We'll have you fixed up in no time."

Wendy reclined on a hospital bed in the ER treatment room. Her injured arm was now resting in a sling, which made the pain a little more bearable. A television was installed in the room to make the waiting a little less boring. It was tuned to an old syndicated comedy. She wasn't paying attention to the screen, it was just serving as white noise while she thought over her current situation.

'I should've known Gemma would eventually hunt me down and make me give up all my rights to my son!' She mused. 'I shouldn't have stayed on the West Coast!"

Wendy had held fast to hope that she and Jax would reconcile while she recovered from the massive overdose Gemma had left her at St. Thomas. She'd willingly injected the massive amount of drugs into her system in a misguided attempt to permanently end her misery after she saw what her drug use had done to her baby. Fortuntely, the medical staff found her in time to save her life.

Divorce was the last thing she wanted after she recovered. While she waited to enter rehab, she had tried to become re-involved in Jax's life. When Abel was released from the hospital, she was the one who was at the house to welcome her son home.

'Gemma played me like a concert violin!' She thought angrily. 'She didn't want Tara in Jax's life, so she tried to use me as a deterrent. Not that it did much good!'

The night of Abel's homecoming, Tara draped herself all over Jax, making it clear to Wendy that she was not going to step aside. 'As if her public displays of affection in my house weren't bad enough, she deliberately swapped spit with him during the minister's reading at Donna's grave!'

That had been enough for Wendy. She left town that day so she wouldn't have to witness any more signs that she was not welcome in Jax's life. Whether Gemma wanted it or not, Tara had her hooks in him and wasn't going to let him go. Wendy wanted to lose her disappointment and pain in the hazy world of drugs. The temptation was strong, but that would have been a step back, and she'd already worked too hard at the clean life to descend back into that Hell. Wendy called a friend in Narcotics Anonymous, who let her stay with her until rehab was ready to accept her.

The divorce was finalized while she was in rehab and she'd learned to accept it. She felt she'd always be connected to her son. The court had decreed that Wendy would have supervised visitation until the judge was certain she was on the straight and narrow. A court liaison was assigned to bring the infant to see his mother. The visits had gone well, and there'd been no sign of Gemma or Tara. Wendy had every reason to believe she'd be able to successfully petition the family court of shared custody of her child.

'Gemma shot that idea all to Hell!' Wendy mused wryly. The arm would heal and the bones eventually knit together. The pain from knowing that Abel would be calling her rival 'Mommy' would be harder to overcome. 'I'll do it, though!' Wendy promised herself, gritting her teeth while the doctor proceeded to get the bones in her arm properly set. The shot she'd been given did nothing to take away the excruciating pain. She welcomed that pain, it strengthened her determination to finish school and get to know her son.

"You might've won this battle, Gemma, but you haven't won the war!'

---

Zobelle dialed the number he'd received in the email at the appointed time, still feeling as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. He could barely breathe as he waited for the trans – Atlantic telephone call to connect.

"Mr. Zobelle, I presume," stated a slightly nasal male voice after the second ring.

"You presume correct, sir. You are Lincoln Potter."

"I am. That's a fascinating cover you have, Mr. Zobelle; helming a Zionist group while providing information to the Federal government on those higher than you. It must wear on you."

"Not really," Zobell replied expansively. "The group is not Zionist, though some of the followers may be a little more fanatical than the norm."

"This is all fascinating, but I doubt you used your Federal contacts to get my attention just to discuss your group," Potter stated wryly. "I'm intrigued by your insistance that the murders of Agent Stahl and James O'Phelan are not as the evidence appears."

"It's not a claim, it's a fact," Zobelle retorted.

"Do you have proof?"

"Nothing concrete, but I can plant the seeds that will eventually grow into solid evidence."

"And why would that interest me?" Potter inquired.

"Because you are well known to be incorruptible. You love the law and are merciless against those who violate the letter of it. You will bring justice to the land, the good guys will win, and all will be right with the world."

Potter had the file Agent Stahl had compiled during her tenure in Northern California open in front of him. Her findings indicated ties between the Irish Kings and SAMCRO, but she'd been unable to crack the shell protecting them. "Just what makes you think you can prove what a Federal agent couldn't?"

"I can't right immediately comply. But give me a little time and if you follow the trail with my assistance, you can trace all the branches of this twisted tree and bring an end to the tyrrannical hold SAMCRO has on Charming," Zobell replied.

"And how will this benefit you?" Potter asked. It's not like you have any ties to California, much less San Joaquin County, so don't try to play the concerned citizen card with me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Zobelle assured him. "I have a personal score to settle with the club."

"Ah, yes. Your daughter," Potter sighed. "Regrettable. But I am not interested in being a part of your personal vendetta, Mr. Zobelle."

"Please keep an open mind, Mr. Potter," Zobelle replied tersely. "A man in my position has many opportunities to carry out a vendetta without involving law enforcement."

'That's true, unfortunately,' Potter thought. "Then why are you so interested in my office?"

"You can use the RICO statutes to go after both the RIRA and the motorcycle club, not a lot of agencies have that authority. My associate in Charming, Jacob Hale, is currently overseeing the construction of new headquarters for the San Joaquin County Sheriff. I can personally guarantee a safe area where you and your task force can work without interference from local law enforcement."

"I won't be played like a puppet," Potter warned. "If I agree to take the offer, it'll be on my terms, and only on my terms."

"Of course!" Zobelle agreed."Why don't you take a day and go out to Charming, see what the lay of the land is."

"I might do that," Potter replied.

"Oh, one other thing that might interest you," Zobelle added in a manner indicating the thought had just occurred to him. "The Russian Mafia has also aligned itself with the club. SAMCRO is now supplying Viktor Putlova and his group with guns."

That information was news to Potter. It made him sit up and take notice. "Where do you come by this information?" He growled.

"I look forward to hearing back from you."

Zobelle placed the receiver on the cradle, smiling in grim satisfaction. He'd paid well for that bit of intel, and it had paid off. It hadn't been hard to find a lackey in the Russian Mafia willing to exchange information for money. 'If only everything was so easily acquired!' He sighed to himself, lovingly stroking the picture of his daughter.

He was certain Potter would accept the job. The temptation to take down so many criminals at one time was too much for the man to ignore. In the meantime, he would use his network and influence to further enhance Potter's chances of successfully bringing down the club.

He reluctantly removed his hand from his daughter's picture to open a large file laying on his desk. Neatly printed sheets outlined each club member's history, both personal and criminal. There'd been nothing in either the Tragers' or the Morrows' background that would work for him.

'Such a pity! It would've been nice to use the woman who killed my child as the chink in SAMCRO's armor!' He lamented. The next best thing would've been to go against Tig and Cat Trager. Unfortunately, the SAA's background didn't hold anything subsantially damaging. As for the thorn in his side known to Charming as Cat Trager, he had developed a grudging admiration for the woman.

"She's a lot like you in many ways, my dear," he remarked to Polly's smiling image. "She's known immeasurable grief in her life, including a near fatal attack. Had I known of this before AJ made his ill fated attempt on her life, I would've taken steps to prevent it." He sighed and turned several pages in the dossier. "But 'what if' doesn't accomplish anything," he added, picking up a particular piece of paper for close scrutiny. Zobelle turned to his computer and accessed a secure server for email. He placed the printed sheet in a scanner, saved it as a document, and attached it to a blank email.

He quickly tapped out a directive to his contact in the FBI, explaining what he wanted Leibling to do with the intel he was providing. "Price is no object. Do whatever you have to do to locate this individual and confirm the race of the individual in question. Do not share this with anyone but myself, " he added at the end of the missive.

Back in the United States, Lincoln Potter stared at his phone as if it had morphed into a deadly viper. He was surprised and intrigued by Zobelle's obvious wide reaching intelligence network. 'Perhaps a ride to Charming is in order. If I can put that network to good use, what does it matter if the hands holding that network are a little dirty?'

---

Cat struggled to keep her anger and frustration at the hospital staff under control as she approached her father's room. The television was off and he appeared to be asleep as she paused in front of the open door to put on the required plastic clothing cover. 'He looks peaceful, but sometimes looks can be deceiving,' she observed dryly.

She quietly entered the room, moved a chair to the bedside so the wall would be to her back, then stood examining her father's face. The monitors told her his vital signs were normal, but when she grasped his hand, the skin seemed a little too warm and dry to the touch. She frowned with concern as the chief nurse hadn't said anything about his running a fever to her. 'I'll just check with 'em next time someone's in the room,' she decided.

She bent over the railing to kiss his cheek and also enable him to hear her better. "Hey, Daddy! How was your night?"

"Terrifying," he rasped. His voice was hoarse and croaky, as if he had a bad chest cold. He opened his eyes and blinked several times, trying to focus on her. Without his glasses, everything was a blur. But he knew her voice, and he smiled a welcome.

"So I heard; long after the fact!" She retorted grimly. "I've added a note to the file that I'm to be called any time there is any thing takin' place, no matter what time it happens!"

"You won't get much rest," he remarked tiredly.

"Time enough to rest after you're well," she assured him. "Considerin' the number of nights y'all and Mother stayed with me at the hospital for my surgeries, seems only fair for me to step up!"

"The circle has come around," Blaine sighed, closing his eyes again. He was tired from not sleeping well after the incident with the fake janitor. He'd still been afraid to surrender to the life restoring rest he needed when the shift changed with the new morning. He didn't feel safe until his daughter and her guardians were present. 'Maybe I shouldn't protest her staying longer than visiting hours, if they let her!'

"Do y'all want your glasses?"

He shook his head slightly without opening his eyes. "Not now. Just want to sleep. Find something on television of interest to you, as long as there's no talk of 'mothertruckers'."

She grinned and patted his cheek before sitting down in the chair she'd placed next to the bedside. "You just rest awhile, Daddy. I'm here to keep the bogey man away." She used the remote attached to his bed to start channel surfing, though she saw the smile of remembered pleasure the words brought to his lips.

---

If there was one thing that gave Lincoln Potter joy, it was riding his Triumph motorcycle. Being on the bike gave him freedom from the harsh realities of life that nothing else could give him. He needed that respite from seeing first hand the ghastly criminal aspects of humanity day in and day out.

His thoughts lingered over the strange duality that was Ethan Zobelle. Potter knew all about Zobelle's double life, pretending to be a white supremacist in order to glean intel for the government. 'It hasn't stopped him from personally benefiting. I imagine he has several Swiss and other off shore accounts overflowing with money!'

If it were up to Potter, he would eliminate confidential informants that abused the position for their own gain as Zobelle had done. He'd seen several cases get thrown out when it became known that the CI didn't have 'clean hands'. 'Judges are getting more particular about us allowing CI's to get away with minor crimes in order to bring down the bigger fish. I wish it weren't necessary, but it's the lesser of the two evils and one I've learned to live with.'

He resolutely turned his thoughts away from the things he had no control over to concentrate on enjoying his ride. The sun was warm, the air wasn't too hot or cold, and the bike was in fine running condition. Time enough to think about the disappointments in his work later.

Potter could see why Charming had such a name when he reached the town line. The lauded 'redwood forests' majestically bordered the town, changing the otherwise brown, flat landscape to a cool towering green dappled with sun. A wooden, hand-made sign bade him welcome. Another hand carved sign noted the population.

He snickered a bit to see that the last digit of the population was a piece of plastic. It was clear that the population count was ever-changing enough to call for the temporary piece instead of a more permanent notation.

What he didn't see was any sign of large chain stores or fast food chains. There wasn't even a Starbucks! 'From what I've heard, Charming doesn't need one,' he observed, pulling the motorcycle to a stop near the 'Charming Pawse' coffee shop. He needed a break, and he wanted to scope out the business for himself.

His entry was greeted by a cheery 'hullo' from the young man behind the counter. Unlike many coffee shops, there were comfortable chairs and sofas scattered around with end tables next to them. One entire wall was given over to merchandise that included stuffed animals, bagged coffee, cups, and even non coffee related hand - crafted merchandise.

Another wall held a huge window where he could see three cats - two black and one Siamese - lounging on cat trees. 'That must be where the 'Pawse' comes from!' Potter smiled to himself.

"What can I make for you today?" The cheerful male behind the counter inquired.

"Some tea, I think." Potter replied vaguely.

"Well, you've come to the right place. Any type in particular?" The young man, identified as CJ on his name tag, smiled.

"Oh dear. I wasn't ready to make a choice. You don't just have plain old tea like the fast food chains?"

"Miss Cat likes to give the customers the freshest brew of their choice, so we never make tea ahead of time to let it just sit," he explained apologetically. "Do you have a particular favorite I could brew for you?"

Potter gazed at the laminated card CJ extended to him that listed all the teas the coffeehouse had to offer. 'I never knew there were so many choices!' It had been a long time since he'd been to a grocery store, though the number of available teas shouldn't have come as a surprise. 'I recall there being a large number of teas there, too!'

He finally decided on something he recognized, Earl Grey tea. "Slightly sweetened, with a bit of lemon," he added.

"I'll have that ready for you in a bit," CJ replied, gathering the items he'd need to fill the order. Potter was intrigued that instead of dumping a tea bag in hot water, the barista set out a contraption that looked like an oversized hour-glass on the counter, poured some what looked like brownish leaves in the top, then added boiling water to the leaves and covered the mix, which eventually seeped through the leaves to form a brown, leaf free liquid in to the bottom of the container.

CJ watched the customer's fascination with the brewing process. "Pretty neat, isn't it?"

"Seems to be a little time-consuming," Potter acknowledged.

"Maybe, but people like it better than the conventional bag dunk," CJ grinned, pouring the liquid into a logo themed cup. He placed a lemon wedge on the lid and pointed to the counter where the condiments waited. "We always let the customer sweeten to their taste, unless they give a specific amount," he added.

Potter paid for his purchase and retired to the counter where the condiments were set out. Instead of the usual packets, there were clear glass bottles with silver lids holding sugar and other sweeteners. The bottles were clearly marked with the contents and the counter was clean of debris.

Other than a couple of women sitting in a corner knitting and gossiping together, Potter and CJ had the store to themselves. "Is it always this quiet?" Potter asked.

"This is the lull before the storm," CJ grinned again. "You must be new to Charming, mister. When classes let out, this place will be busier than a hive of angry wasps!"

"And you'll be handling it on your own?"

"Oh, no!" CJ laughed. "I'll have help then. The assistant manager's in the back working on the daily stuff that has to be done."

"Ah, the bane of management," Potter observed, lifting his cup in salute towards the back. "The never-ending paperwork. Where's the owner of this fine establishment?"

"She's out-of-town on personal business, sir," CJ replied. There was a sad note in the young man's voice that informed Potter the personal business wasn't pleasant. "Perhaps another time."

"So you may be returning?" CJ inquired.

"I may. We'll see which way the wind blows."

Potter finished the tea and sauntered out of the coffeehouse. He mounted his bike and took a leisurely ride around town, taking note of the other small businesses that made up the business area, as well as the neat homes. He made it a point to ride by Teller - Morrow and the compound for the MC, though he didn't linger. His ride by told him what he needed to know from the few bikes parked near the clubhouse, SAMCRO would not be much of a problem during the early stages of the investigation. 'Once the majority of the club has ended their stint, the task force will be well on the way to breaking up the entire Norcal gun operation!'

---

"Unser Trucking, how may I direct your call?"

"Wayne Unser, please," the secretary on the other end of the line requested.

"May I ask who's calling?" Unser's secretary replied smoothly.

"Tell him Emerson Winchester is calling."

Unser's secretary rolled her eyes. She had long ago lost count of the number of times her employer had told Winchester he wasn't interested, yet the man kept calling! She chuckled and dialed the extension to Unser's office.

"What is it?" Unser huffed in her ear, though he appreciated the respite from the pile of paperwork on his desk. He was finding it more difficult to purchase the medicines he needed to boost his energy ever since his forced retirement. The cancer treatments zapped what energy he did have and made it a chore just to get to the office every day. By the time he walked from his truck to his desk, he had nothing less to deal with the business.

"Emerson Winchester is calling again," the secretary replied. "Shall I tell him you're busy?"

"Nah, put him through," Unser replied. "I could use the amusement," he added for her benefit.

What made things more difficult for him was Della's abrupt departure from Charming and the office. She couldn't take his volatile temper that resulted from his treatments. 'At least that was the reason she gave when she left!' Unser reflected. 'It seems like things had been deteriorating between us long before I was diagnosed.'

He turned his gaze to the divorce decree laying open in front of him. Della was in another state now and was seeking to end their marriage. That had come as a shock. He didn't know she'd left the state, much less that she was intending to file for divorce. He hadn't realized how much he depended on her until she wasn't around.

Della had managed the office while he'd performed the duties of police chief. He had no idea what was involved in running a business like his trucking firm until CPD was disbanded. Della had handled all the billing, collecting, filing, scheduling, and everything else the business needed. Unser couldn't keep up with the work and the secretary was only good at taking calls and payments, along with dispatching drivers. Unser couldn't keep up with the workload, and he soon wouldn't be able to hide that from his employees or the competition.

'Winchester's been tryin' to buy me out for years, but if he makes a good enough offer, I'm taking him up on it! This is just too much for an old man.' He managed to find the energy to press the speakerphone button when the secretary buzzed the call through.

"What can I do for you, Winchester?" Unser grunted, making it sound like he was extremely busy.

"Let me buy you out," Winchester replied. "Free up your time for other things."

Unser grinned maliciously. "Not being police chief gives me a lot of time to devote to the business," he countered.

"C'mon, Wayne! Now is the time for you to relax!" Winchester retorted. "You've worked hard for years! God knows you're entitled to time off!"

"Maybe. I'm surprised you can afford to shop for more trucks, considering you had to settle with Cat Marshall over that wreck," Unser stated.

"That's what insurance is for," Winchester reminded the former police chief. "Their lawyers and her lawyers crunched the numbers and came up with a figure."

"No kidding," Unser replied. "Did you have to change carriers?"

"I'm shopping around," Winchester admitted. "That's another reason why I'm offering to buy you out. The insurance would stay with the company, wouldn't it?"

"It's paid for the rest of the term," Unser admitted grudgingly. "A new owner would assume that coverage, if I decide to sell."

Winchester winced and rubbed the shiny crown of his head. He needed the trucks and the insurance coverage Unser owned, and he needed both badly. He couldn't afford to buy out the former chief, but Jacob Hale had assured him that whatever price he negotiated would be paid by a 'silent partner' in the business.

"You'll have complete control of the operation," Hale added when he broached the subject with Winchester. "The buyer just needs someone local to run it for him and serve as the figure head."

Winchester sensed that Unser was toying with him much like a cat plays with a captured mouse before killing it. ' I should hang up right now, but I need that backing Hale promised, and that means I need to play the game Unser's way!'

Unser was enjoying stringing the businessman along, but he didn't have the stamina to keep going. "Tell you what, Winchester, you have your lawyer call Ally Lowen and work out a reasonable buy out plan. Once I'm satisfied, you can take over the business. One thing I won't negotiate on is the future of my employees. They keep their jobs, pay rate, and benefits. No shenanigans."

"I can live with that," Winchester agreed with a sigh of relief. "I'll get in contact with my lawyer."

"You do that," Unser replied, disconnecting the call and reclining in his office chair. He suddenly felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 'If only all my problems could be solved as easily!'

---

'It's all set, Daddy," Cat assured her father. "Just follow my lead when 'Brownie' shows up."

"Do you really think he will?"

"Like the proverbial bad penny," she remarked. "All we have to do is wait."

After a few minutes of amiable chit - chat pertaining to her father's condition, Cat innocently announced, "Daddy and I were talkin' about y'all earlier."

"So that's why my ears were burning!" He smiled.

"Don't worry, it was all nice," she assured him gaily. "We decided that we're going to send a note to your academic advisor to let 'em know we appreciated your kindness."

'Brownie' was taken by surprise by the gesture. He'd definitely not expected that! "Oh, that's not necessary, Mrs. Trager," he exclaimed. "It's just part of my education."

"We think it is, and please, call me 'Cat'," she replied winningly.

"Honestly," he pleaded desperately. "Don't go to all that trouble!"

"It's really no trouble, and it's somethin' we want to do," Cat declared.

"Well, if you really feel that way, I guess I can't stop you," the fake student sighed.

"I didn't want to embarrass y'all with this, but there wasn't an email address listed for you on the university website. Otherwise I would've emailed you."

'Brownie' was momentarily caught off guard by the comment, but quickly recovered to explain, "Oh, that's because I don't have a computer."

"I considered that," she countered sagely, lifting her head slightly as if acknowledging a passerby. "So I called the registrar's office to double check. It was an enlightening conversation."

'Brownie' glanced at the patient, who was smiling in anticipation. He felt his gut clench, but he kept his face from revealing his inner turmoil. "It was?"

"Extremely," Cat purred, leaning back in her chair in a relaxed manner. "It appears that the registar had no record for you at all. Not as a transfer student, or a part time student, or an on-line student. It seems that y'all don't exist at that university, 'Rev. Jones'."

'Brownie's' face went pale as the sheet on Blaine's bed. The patient himself was grinning with delight at the fraud's unveiling. "Th - there must be some mistake!" He sputtered, rising from the chair he'd pulled up to Blaine's bed across from Cat.

"There's a mistake, all right," Cat replied grimly. "The mistake was yours in thinkin' y'all would get away with tryin' to terrorize us."

"I - I don't know what you mean by terrorize you!" He stammered.

"And if y'all believe that, I've got desert land for sale cheap in Florida! Y'all bear a strikin' resemblance to a fella that was here overnight pretendin' to be a janitor. Thing is, this joint doesn't have janitors on the third shift; it's about to close up and move. The only third shift employees are medical."

"Lots of people resemble each other," he remarked with a bravado he didn't feel. "So what?"

"So I did a little work with a photo editin' program and compared it to a picture sent to me from Good Samaritan; a purrfect match!" She continued with an Eartha Kitt purr.

'Time to make like a banana and split. I don't like where this is goin'!' The fake divinity student rose from his chair and began edging towards the door, clutching the worn Bible against his chest like a talisman. "I'm sure that's just co - incidence! If you'll excuse me -"

"Hold on there, partner!" Cat retorted. "I'm not finished yet."

There was a definite note of assurance in the woman's voice he'd never heard when they were together. He halted in mid step and turned back to look inquiringly at her. "I'm listening."

"On a hunch, I went online to the archives of the Terre Haute newspaper to find a story from when I was attacked and nearly killed by a person I loved named Cory Brown."

'Brownie' realized that his cover was definitely blown, but he had swallowed the bait and now had to play out the line in hopes of breaking it. "I'm sorry to hear that. But I don't see what that has to do with me."

"Well, darlin', I found a story about the attack and the suspect. I copied that picture and ran it through the same editing program to compare the picture from Good Samaritan. Incidentally, the picture from the hospital was a purrfect match for the pic ature of Cory that ran decades ago. How do you explain that, sir?"

He didn't. 'Brownie' bolted out of the room without answering her question and hurried down the hall. 'I didn't figure she'd go that far to figure me out!' He thought wildly. "Best thing to do is get outta here before she rats me out to those bikers!'

He didn't see one of the bikers following him down the hall. Cavey, the same outlaw who'd been standing in the hallway during his second visit, had been lurking outside and watching for Cat's signal that she was satisfied that the divinity student was her ancient nemesis. He ducked into a vacant room near the minister's room to text his brothers. "It's on!"

The text immediately went to BZ, who was sitting in the lounge, and to the rest of the club waiting in the back lot with Ron. The blond biker had brought his pick up to the hospital to use in transporting the troublemaker. Cat didn't want to use her father's car for nefarious purposes.

"It's goin' down!" Yum exclaimed, glancing at the text.

"It's clobberin' time!" Shank whooped, pumping a fist in the air.

"I'll wait here with the truck. Try not to rough him up too much before you get back," Ron remarked with a grin. "I don't want the liner getting too bloody up!"

The group rushed into the hospital in order to meet with BZ and capture the miscreant in the lobby. They couldn't wait to have a little fun at 'Brownie's' expense.

---

Cat rose from her chair to follow the fake divinity student to the elevator. She had some words for him, and none of them were fit for her father's ears. Her father's raspy voice stopped her before she'd taken more than two steps.

"Why are you going after him?"

Cat signaled Cavey to go on without her and turned back to reassure her father. "I want to make sure the guys get him away from here."

"You can't wait for them to call you?" Her father protested.

"You're goin' to be OK for a bit, Daddy," she informed him. "And I'm not allowed to have the cell phone turned on because of the monitorin' equipment."

"I'm not afraid of being left alone," he retorted irritably. "I just don't see why you need to see him off! Don't you trust your friends?"

"Of course I do, Daddy!" She grinned, patting his arm reassuringly. "I just have a few things to tell Mr. Brown before he's taken away."

"I suppose you do," he sighed wearily. "Tell your friends not to do too much damage to him. God still loves him, though I doubt anyone else does."

She squeezed his hand sympathetically. She knew how difficult it was for him to admit that he couldn't find love in his heart for 'Brownie'. "You're only human, Daddy. I don't love him and can't forgive him for what he did."

"I can, honey, but it's not been easy," he whispered. "That's why I don't want your friends to injure him too severely."

'They're not goin' to like this,' she thought to herself.

"Promise me that you'll tell them!" He nearly shouted, raising his body as far from the bed as the restraints allowed.

"Shhhh!" She gently pushed him back to the mattress. "Don't upset yourself, Daddy!" She stroked his cheek, surprised to find it wet with tears. "I'll tell them, Daddy. I promise," she added, brushing the tears from his cheeks with her hands.

He nodded, closed his eyes, and lay still in the bed. She kissed his cheek and whispered, "I'll be back shortly," then turned and rushed from the room. The lounge was empty, so she pressed the elevator button and waited impatiently for the car to arrive. 'I hope the guys wait for me like we discussed!'

She was relieved to find they were waiting in the first floor elevator area when the doors opened. 'Here we go!'

---

'Brownie' lay in the back of a pickup. His arms and legs were bound with those pesky plastic zip ties instead of rope which made escape nearly impossible. To make matters worse, his arms were bound behind his back and his head was covered by a burlap bag so that he couldn't see where the truck was taking him. 'Whereever we're goin', it's not gonna be a pleasant place!'

Cat Marshall's biker friends were responsible for his predicament. They had surrounded him at the second floor elevator after he'd hastily left Blaine Marshall's room. Cat had subjected him to what seemed like a benign inquiry pertaining to his schooling before she informed him she knew his true identity. He'd rushed out of the room to the safety of the elevator, not realizing that he was in danger until he reached the lounge and found himself surrounded by a group of bikers.

They penned him within their circle, cutting off all avenues of escape. When the elevator car arrived, they silently forced him inside, They remained silent until the doors closed, when the husky, bearded one standing in front of him turned to confront him.

"What can I do for you gents?" He asked jovially. He wasn't about to break cover from his disguise if he didn't have to. 'Maybe if I act pleasant like before, they'll leave me alone!'

"Cut the shit, asshole," the bearded biker growled. "We know who you are and that's not a divinity student!"

'Brownie' felt his gut tighten, but he decided to brazen his way through the short elevator ride. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, son. You must be confusin' me with someone else."

"The only person who's confused is you," the one he remembered as the tobacco chewer replied. That biker was standing to his right.

"Yeah!" The biker standing directly behind him added menacingly. "So can the innocent act!"

'Brownie gazed around at the men, taking in their determined expressions. He knew he'd stepped waist deep in a pile of shit. 'Damn! She pulled the wool over my eyes this time and I walked right into it!' He hoped to escape when the elevator doors opened, until he felt his arms pulled behind his back and held in a vice - like grip.

"Don't get any funny ideas, shitbird," a voice growled behind him.

It wasn't in his nature to willingly comply with an order like that. Instead, he strained against the biker's grip, testing the man's strength against his own.

The biker increased the pressure in his grip, until 'Brownie' gasped in surprise and pain. "I warned ya!" The biker laughed nastily.

"You can come along peacefully, or you can try to make a scene," the first speaker coldly informed him.

"And if I cause a scene that brings security down on you?" He inquired challengingly.

"They won't come check it out. Cat's already taken care of that," the chewer informed him.

The elevator next to the one they'd just exited opened to reveal Cat standing in the middle of the car. Her arms were folded across her chest and her expression was grim. "Thanks for waitin' for me, y'all. Is he givin' you any trouble?"

"Not yet," the fourth biker replied gloomily, speaking up for the first time.

She stepped into the lobby and nodded at the quartet. "Give him time. He won't disappoint y'all."

'Brownie' noticed that she didn't refer to any of them by name. 'The fuckin' bitch! She knows I won't be able to give much identifyin' info about these fuckers without their names!' He wasn't willing to give up hope that he would come out of the situation whole. 'They might know I'm not a divinity student, but they don't know my true identity!' He drew a deep breath and defiantly proclaimed, "You haven't won yet!"

"We usually win in the end," the bearded biker that first addressed him chucked slyly. had initially spoken chuckled slyly. "Your old man a'right, kitten?"

"He's fine, just a little worried that we might go 'overboard' in teachin' this shitbird a lesson," she replied.

"Us?" The three outlaws laughed in disbelief. "We'd never consider it!"

'No, ya'd just do it!' Their victim thought wryly.

"I settled things with what amounts to security here," she added, gazing intently at her former attacker. "They won't give all y'all any trouble, long as you don't misbehave on hospital property."

"That sounds like our cue to leave," the fourth biker remarked.

The four men and Cat frog marched 'Brownie' through the very same employee entrance he had used to access the hospital after hours. He saw a pickup truck parked near the entrance along with some Harleys. The sight sent a renewed wave of panic through him. 'I've got a bad feelin' about this!'

He gazed questioningly at the group as they approached the back of the truck. One of the outlaws pulled out a zip tie restraint and placed it around 'Brownie's wrists, pulling it as tight as possible without cutting off the blood circulation.

"Why don't y'all just 'fess up and tell these fine gents who you really are?" Cat inquired while 'Brownie's' hands were being bound behind his back.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He spat in the same defiant manner.

"Wrong answer!" The biker who'd been holding his arms behind his back growled. He kicked 'Brownie's' feet out from under him, causing him to fall to the ground.

"Take it easy on the merchandise, darlin'!" Cat jokingly admonished the biker. "Remember, we don't want security spoilin' your fun."

"Just helpin' him to the ground," the biker replied. "Easier to bind his feet that way."

"Guess it's better than trying to do it in the truck bed," the blond remarked. "The dude's pissed enough to kick the hell outta the inside."

"Exactly my thinkin'!" The biker laughed. "A little help here, guys?"

The men took positions at 'Brownie's' feet and shoulders. Two held him by the shoulders while the other two held his legs together so the other could bind his ankles with another couple of zip ties.

'These guys aren't takin' any chances with me! The cunt must've told them everything!' The captive observed to himself. To add to his embarrassment, he let loose with a noisy fart when the bikers picked him up and pushed him onto the truck bed.

"Whew! Glad we're outdoors!" Yum remarked, burying his nose in his sleeve.

"No shit!" GB grinned.

"I bet we'd find tread marks if we checked his shorts!" Shank laughed.

"If I remember correctly, he goes commando," Cat remarked dryly.

"Oh, real courageous of ya to pick on a guy when he can't fight back!" The captive complained.

Cat shook her head and stood at the back of the truck, staring intently at him until he felt it necessary to break the silence.

"So what the fuck do you want from me?" He snarled to break the uncomfortable silence. "You've trussed me up like a turkey at Thanksgiving!"

"'Turkey' is the nicest name y'all will likely be called today," Cat remarked humourlessly, staring at him as if she could see his soul and didn't like what she saw.

"Let me loose so I can take these asshats on, you bitch!"

"Not happenin', buster," Cat retorted, leaning against one of the truck fenders. "I just don't understand why y'all felt it necessary to come here to cause trouble, Cory. Frankly, I don't want to know."

"We've still got a score to settle from way back, cunt!" He snarled angrily.

"And I thought I could hold a grudge for a long time!" She whistled in mock admiration. "All I ever did was love you from the very first, kiddo. What's the sin in that?"

"You owe me, bitch, and I'm gonna get payback!"

"Y'all have a gift for revisin' history when the opposite is true, darlin'," she drawled. "You go on and believe what you want about that time; you will anyway. I can't believe you've wasted your life wantin' to settle a score that doesn't exist!"

Her refusal to argue with him, along with the obvious derision in her voice enraged him. He struggled against the bindings in an attempt to sit up. His failure to succeed made him more angry. "It wasn't all wasted! I got some satis- " He stopped short, realizing just in time that he was about to admit to something he'd done that he didn't want her to know right then.

Cat sighed and shook her head. "Honestly, darlin'. The only thing you've been to me all these years is a mistake in judgment. Just stay away from my father so he can get well."

"You're just too scared to face me one on one!" He observed nastily. "You think you're tougher than me because you have those bikers supportin' ya? Hah!" He spat at her, but the phlegm landed on the truck well away from her.

"Hey! Show a little respect!" Ron protested mildly.

"You want us to get rid of him now, kitten?" BZ inquired grimly.

"Yeah. Don't cause any permanent harm, just impress upon him the merits of stayin' away from Daddy."

"And from you, darlin'," Cavey reminded her.

"That too."

"You've not seen the last of me, bitch! I'll find you and make you pay for this!"

She stepped away from the truck and nodded at her companions. The biker that had kicked 'Brownie's' feet out from under him climbed into the bed and placed a burlap bag over his head. The tailgate slammed shut, followed a few seconds later by the cab doors.

"Don't get any ideas about tryin' to get outta here," Another voice warned him. "I'm sittin' right here next to ya. Move a muscle any way I don't like and you'll be sorry!"

'Brownie' didn't bother trying to reply. The roar of the Harley engines would've drowned out any response anyway.

The ride lasted for some time. 'Brownie' lay as still as he could, which was difficult in the bed of a pick up truck. 'Everything seemed to go so smoothly in that fuckin' room!' He observed wryly.

He could almost admire the easy way he'd been lulled into a false sense of security when he arrived on the floor.

The biker hanging out in the lounge had merely looked up for a moment from the television set when he exited the elevator before turning his attention back to the screen. Neither the biker nor the nurses at their station questioned his presence.

'Dammit! I let myself believe the cunt was the same blind fool she was decades ago; she really played me this time!' He snorted in exasperation, getting a good lungful of burlap that made him sneeze a few times. The outlaw sitting next to him merely laughed at his discomfort.

---

Unser didn't know how long he'd been asleep in his office chair following the call with Winchester. He was startled awake by a light rapping on his closed door. "Wayne? It's Ally Lowen!"

He coughed to clear his throat. "Yeah! Door's unlocked, c'mon in!"

The door slowly opened to reveal the worried face of the lawyer. "I was afraid we'd lost you," she stated, entering the office and closing the door behind her.

"I'm not ready to check out yet," he assured her.

"Well, I had to wonder about that after talking to that Winchester fella," Ally retorted, settling into a chair opposite the former police chief. "He said you agreed to sell the business to him?"

"It's true," Unser shrugged.

"Why? I thought you wanted to run this full time!"

Unser swept one arm across the piles of paper on his desk. "I can't keep up with the work, honey," he explained. "I'm tired all the time and it's getting' away from me."

Ally frowned in consternation. "But there's medicines designed to give you strength!"

"Can't afford 'em," Unser shrugged again. "Hale managed to convince the council to change my health coverage so that I have to meet a deductible before the insurance kicks in. Those meds are pretty damn expensive!"

"He wouldn't have gotten away with it if the council had debated the issue in public!" Ally snapped. "Too many people would've protested against it."

Unser shook his head. "Maybe, but the city isn't getting that group discount now; it's just me and a couple of other CPD retirees. Hale would've convinced folks it just wasn't 'economically feasible' to pay a higher premium for the benefit of a few old codgers."

"I sincerely doubt that!"

"Can't do anything about it now, darlin'," Unser sighed. "What's done is done and there's no going back to change it."

"Speaking of done deals, won't Della have anything to say about your selling the business?" Ally inquired.

Unser picked up the divorce decree and passed it to the lawyer. "I don't think so. This arrived in the mail today."

Ally skimmed through the document then gazed questioningly across the desk at him. "Is there any hope?"

Unser shook his head. "She took off to another state with some guy. She probably won't contest the sale, but I'd appreciate it if you'd handle the divorce and te sale for me."

Ally smiled reassuringly at him. "You know I will,and you won't have to pay me for it."

"Hey! I'm not that bad off!" Unser protested.

"Let's just put it down to my way of saying 'thank you' for serving Charming as long as you did," Ally replied. "It's the least I can do for you!"

Unser smiled at the young woman. He was proud about not accepting charity, but he recognized the sincerity in the lawyer's comment. "If you insist," he grumbled good naturedly.

"I insist," she stated firmly. "Now let's discuss how you want to come out of these two situations – the business and the marriage – and have a little something to live on."

---

The truck finally came to a stop and the bike engines silenced. The sudden stillness made 'Brownie' more apprehensive about his immediate future than he'd been during the ride.

He couldn't hear sounds of other vehicles. He could hear the ticking of the cooling engines and the occasional bird song. 'We're either out in the woods or the country. Probably some kinda field. Too much light to be a wooded area.'

He was unbearably hot both the burlap covering his head and his suit. The sun beat down on him without mercy. Sweat ran down his face into his eyes making them sting and water. His breathing was ragged from both his watering eyes and the burlap fibers he'd inhaled. His arms were nearly numb from being bound behind his back; his legs, also confined in zip ties, were a little less numb but still uncomfortable. 'I swear that bitch will pay for all this!' He vowed to himself.

He lay still, waiting for his captors to give him approval to move. He had no doubt that the one riding in the back of the truck with him would make good on his threat. Unlike similar confrontations he'd been involved in before, he'd never been faced with men as determined as the outlaws and the blond guy, nor with such a co - ordinated attack.

'This must be what the Terre Haute MC would've done to me after I beat Cat at the clubhouse. If they'd caught me then, I wouldn't be alive today,' he reminded himself. 'If she'd kept her nose outta my business, the club would've patched me in and I wouldn't have had to have taught her a lesson. Guess goin' public with it wasn't the best idea.'

When he'd learned from the Prez why he wouldn't be patched in by the club as expected, 'Brownie' had drowned his disappointment in a potent blend of alcohol and opiates. When Cat and her all girl riding group showed up for the club party, he'd lost his temper and beaten her nearly to death in front of the women and some of the hang arounds.

While the women attended to the injured woman, 'Brownie' fled the clubhouse property, hiding his bike and himself at his real girlfriend's house. Both the club and the police searched Vigo County for him, but they didn't conduct in home searches and his girlfriend protected him. He repaid her when the coast was clear by taking money and other sell-able items and fled the state.

The attack on Cat has cost him. 'The worst end result was havin' my own son turn against me!' He recalled angrily. 'The only good thing that came outta that time was my marriage, but even that blew up in my face! My whole life turned into shit and it's all that bitch's fault!'

He didn't stop to consider that his own actions might've put him in his current predicament. As far as he was concerned, it was another black mark against Cat. He remembered her admonishment to the group before they put him in the back of the truck and paradoxically clung to that comment like a drowning man held on to a life preserver. 'I'm gonna survive this; she told those fuckers her father didn't want 'em doin' any lastin' harm to me! They'll try to make me miserable, but she'll be the miserable one when I catch up to her!'

---

Cat waited until the truck and bikes left the parking lot to return inside the hospital. She stopped by the security office long ago to assure the head man that her friends had taken the miscreant away.

"I'm not sure I like this, Mrs. Trager," he informed her. "The police really should've handled this."

"Trust me, it's better this way," she advised him dryly. "My friends will make sure this idiot understands that he's persona non grata around here in any guise. Besides, do you really want to admit to the boys in blue that y'all fucked up?"

The security chief's face turned red as a beet. "I – I don't understand what you mean, ma'am."

Cat smirked and leaned on her side of the desk, bringing her face closer to the his. "Do I look like I'm kiddin'?" She growled, placing her hand on the incident report laying on his desk. "I know that one of my friends told y'all about the guy that appeared on Daddy's floor last night, but you guys didn't do a thing about it. I'm sure the cops won't look kindly at that."

The chief's face turned pale. "You have to understand that our resources are limited, and -"

"The only thing I have to understand," she interjected coldly, "is that my father could've been seriously harmed last night had I had not hired that special nurse because y'all chose to ignore a potential threat because it wasn't 'economically feasible'. I think that allowin' my friends to handle this little matter is a lot better than facin' a lawsuit."

"On what grounds?" The security chief growled.

"All I have to do is raise the possibility of a lawsuit to get the suits in admin in a tizzy," she purred. "There's somethin' about that word that makes 'em sweat."

"You wouldn't really do that!" He snorted derisively.

"Don't test me, bucko! I'll do whatever it takes to protect my family."

The words weren't shouted as most women would do in a similar situation. Her words were spoken in the same soft purr that reminded him of the way he'd seen video footage of panthers preparing to attack. He had no doubt that this woman would carry out her threat.

"I believe I see your point, Mrs. Trager," he murmured quietly. "There's no need to involve either the police or the hospital administration."

"I'm glad y'all are willin' to see reason," she remarked, resuming an upright stance and wiping her hands as if she'd touched something slimy. "I trust there won't be a need for y'all to read any further incident reports from now on."

"I'm sure I won't," he replied. He remained silent and seated until he was certain she'd left the office area. Then he stepped to the doorway, just to make certain the coast was clear. "Damn!" He sighed, wiping a sheen of perspiration from his brow with a handkerchief.

---

Zobelle smiled in triumph when his caller ID displayed the California telephone number for Lincoln Potter. He'd kept that number jotted down for future reference following their initial contact. "I trust you found Charming - if not living up to it's name - adequate as a base of operations?"

Potter was taken aback by Zobelle's directness. "How did you know I'm the caller? I wouldn't expect caller ID to work on an international call."

"I have ways of knowing these things, Mr. Potter," Zobelle informed the lawyer. "Just as I know that you've been to Charming and sampled the atmosphere of some of the businesses there."

'I should have such an extensive information network!' Potter mused to himself. "I see. Yes, I did visit Charming. You're right, it isn't entirely that way, but it will do for an outpost."

"Wonderful!" Zobelle replied. "I will inform Hale to contact you to determine your specifications for your war room. Money is no object. Order whatever you need to keep it secure."

"That is most gracious of you, Mr. Zobelle," Potter stated. "But I must caution you again that my acceptance of this offer will not make me one of your minions. I work with full autonomy or won't do this at all."

"I assure you, Mr. Potter, my only interest is to see the downfall of SAMCRO. Anything I can do to help as a concerned citizen I'm more than happy to do." Zobelle purred before ending the call.

'You have an agenda, just as I do. As long as it ends the NorCal gun operation, I'll make a deal with the devil himself.' Potter winced at the idea and snickered to himself, "I think I just did."

---

'Brownie' could hear the murmur of low voices not far from the truck. He didn't know if his companion was still in the truck bed with him or not. He strained his ears to listen in to the muted conversation but his eavesdropping wasn't successful. 'Either they're farther away from the truck than I thought, or they're deliberately keepin' their voices low!' He grumbled to himself.

To make matters worse, he started coughing from the amount of burlap dust collected in his nose. His misery was compounded by the bone dry feeling to his mouth. The last time he'd had anything to drink had been before he'd left Diane's penthouse.

"Sounds like the old boy's tryin' to croak on us," the voice of the biker that had been in the back of the truck with him laughed nastily.

"We can't have that!" The gruff voice of the husky, bearded biker replied.

"No shit!" Another voice added. "We haven't had any fun yet!"

"So get that damn bag off his head and give him somethin' to drink!" The husky one retorted.

'Brownie' felt the pick up bed move slightly under the weight of his guardian. Heavy footsteps announced the biker's approach. The bag was suddenly removed from his head, bringing his head up from the truck bed and then crashing back down. He winced and blinked in the sudden bright light as well as from the pain in his skull.

"Well lookee what we have here!" One of his captors smirked. He held the burlap bag in one hand, and 'Brownie's' wig in the other.

"Looks like a dead rat," another biker remarked.

"No, look at his head, he's blond!" The outlaw holding the wig insisted. "He was wearin' a wig!" He twirled the wig in one hand as he approached the side of the pick up bed. He looked down at 'Brownie's' obvious pain and snarled. "Awww! Did the liddle asshat hurt his head on the truck?" He smirked. "Shit! That's gonna feel like a love tap compared to what we've got in store for ya!"

'Brownie' glared defiantly at the biker. "Shit! I hear a lotta talk! If that was a love tap, everything else is gonna feel like a tickle!"

The biker responded by kicking 'Brownie' in the stomach with his steel toed riding boot.

"Did that tickle, shitheel?"

'Brownie' gasped and sputtered from the blow. "Just a little," he croaked, crossing his arms protectively with his arms.

"Awww, the poor little thing is ticklish!" The biker laughed, nudging the captive's leg with his boot.

"Cut the crap and free his legs!" The husky biker snarled.

Two pairs of steely hands grasped 'Brownie' by the shoulders and hauled up to his feet. The captive was still winded from being kicked and doubled over at the waist.

"Don't get even think about head buttin' me, asshole!" The biker who'd kicked him warned 'Brownie'. He squatted down, withdrew his belt knife, and cut the zip ties that bound the captive's legs.

The sudden freedom of his lower extremities caused him to stumble. He would have fallen face first into the dirt if two of the men weren't holding on to him.

"Easy there! Don't wanna damage that pretty face!" The husky, bearded bike chortled.

"Yeah, we're not supposed to leave any visible marks!" Another biker laughed

'Brownie' wasn't willing to rise to the bait. He blinked several times to get used to the brighter light and looked at as much of his surroundings as possible. They were in a clearing, but he couldn't tell whether they were in a park, a forest, or along some waterway. There were trees and plenty of wildflowers and leaves. A creek cut through one side of the clearing. 'Doesn't look like the woods, but it's no park, either!'

"Wonderin' where ya are?" The husky, beared biker holding him up on the right side inquired.

"I'm a little curious," he admitted somewhat reluctantly. "It's certainly secluded."

"Very," the biker agreed. "Don't worry, no one's gonna come up on us unexpectedly."

"I figured that much," he sighed resignedly. "So are ya gonna make this a fair fight and untie my hands?"

The bikers pretended to non verbally consult each other, then the one that had tied him in the first place withdrew his belt knife and cut the zip tie binding 'Brownie's' wrists behind his back. "No one's gonna say we didn't give ya a chance," the biker growled, driving his closed fist into the captive's stomach. "Though my brothers are gonna keep hold of ya."

'Brownie' exhaled gustily as the biker's fist sank into the softest part of his gut. He bent double and grunted in pain, straining against the twin steel grips that held him. That made two times that he'd been hit in the gut. 'I'll probably be hurtin' from several more places before they're done with me.'

"Man! If all we're gonna do is gut punch this fucker, we ain't gonna make much of an impression!" One of the bikers glumly remarked. "Are ya sure we can't mess up that face of his?"

"Ya heard Miss Cat," the husky bearded outlaw replied. "She said her daddy don't want us messin' this fucker up too much. That means nothin' in the face or any deep puncture wounds."

'Brownie' sneered at the courtesy the bikers applied to his foe. "You honestly think that cunt's good enough to be referred to as 'Miss?'"

"Watch your mouth, asshole!" The other biker holding him up growled, punctuating his warning with a knee right into the small of 'Brownie's' back. "Use your manners when you're talkin' about her!"

'Brownie' winced but kept his opinion to himself. 'Anything I say about her is just gonna make 'em more pissed off. If I don't react, they'll grow bored and leave me alone.'

"Can we cut 'im?" The wiry biker that had lamented being unable to do more damage than gut punches asked in a hopeful manner.

"I suppose it'll be okay to draw a little blood, as long as we don't hit any vital organs," the husky bearded outlaw grinned.

"A'right!" The wiry man laughed, withdrawing his own belt knife.

"Hold on a minute!" The blond who presumably drove the truck protested. "We might as well take that jacket and shirt off if we're gonna do that kind of stuff. No need to mess up his duds."

"The man's got a point," another of the group that had remained silent spoke up. 'Brownie' noted he had a bit of a British accent. "You gonna shuck 'em or you want us to strip ya down, mate?"

"I'd prefer to handle this myself," the captive replied.

"You try runnin' off, it won't go easy for ya," the biker that had kicked him in the back growled.

'Brownie' shrugged out of the coat and handed it to the blond who'd stepped forward to take it from him. "I'd be pretty dumb to try that when I have no idea where we are!" He snapped, unbuttoning his shirt.

"The guy's got some brains after all!" The wiry man sneered.

"Are we gonna talk, or we gonna get down to business?" The tall, tanned and broad biker snarled. He had been silent up until that moment. He pounded one balled up fist into his other hand with every other word.

"As soon as he pulls off those pants, it's clobberin' time!" The wiry one stated.

"Seriously?" Their captive sighed, rolling his eyes towards the sky.

"Like I said," the blond replied, snapping his fingers and pointing at the suit pants. "No need to mess up your duds."

"You're not shy, are ya, mate?" The Brit sounding outlaw grinned.

"We're all guys, y'know, and none of us are into fudge packin'," the husky, bearded leader assured him.

"Imagine my relief," the captive snarled as he undid his belt and dropped his drawers.

---

Her father was sound asleep when Cat returned to his room. She sank wearily into the chair she'd placed near his bed and rubbed her head with her hands. The confrontation with 'Brownie', though brief, had taken a lot out of her. 'I feel like a horse that's been rode hard and put up wet!' she remarked to herself. 'That guy holds a grudge longer than Mother could, and she could hold 'em for decades!'

She wondered idly over the comment 'Brownie' had made to her about not wasting all his time on hating her. 'He was starting to gloat about gettin' satisfaction, but he didn't complete the sentence.' She thought back over her ancient history with him, and could only determine that he must've been referring to the beating he'd given her. 'I just don't see anything beneficial to him coming from it!'

She wasn't worried that her father was sleeping so soundly on her return. He'd not gotten much rest the night before, thanks to 'Brownie's' shenanigans. 'At least I've put an end to that bullshit, though I'm keepin' the specials until Daddy's released.' The special duty nurse would be beneficial to her father's morale, which Cat knew was just as integral to his recovery as his safety.

She glanced at the clock on the wall in her father's room and calculated how much time had passed since her friends had taken 'Brownie' away. 'They've probably reached their destination by now. I hope they're able to make a suitable impression on him about stayin' away from here!'

Her thoughts turned to her eventual check in with Alex. She knew he wouldn't be happy that she'd put restrictions on the outlaws' dealing with 'Brownie'. 'If it were up to Alex, he'd be happier if the shitbird was put out of our misery! But Daddy didn't want him seriously injured. I just hope Alex will accept that, if he doesn't, it'll be a very difficult conversation!'

She was pleasantly surprised to have Bill's family come to visit that day. She hadn't seen her former in laws since her mother's death, months before she remarried Alex. She'd written to inform them of her remarriage which they'd graciously responded with cards of congratulations. She and Alex didn't visit them while they were in the state for her radio station reunion. She didn't want to rub the new marriage in their faces. There were also Alex's feelings to consider. She felt it wasn't fair to force him to meet her former in laws on top of meeting her father for the first time.

Her father didn't wake up when she announced to him that Bill's family had come to visit. That surprised her, as he'd always gotten on well with them, and they had always appreciated his calls when he was in town for his cancer treatments.

"Sorry about that, y'all," she stated apologetically. "He had a rough night last night."

"That's all right, kitten. There'll be other times," Bill's father replied gruffly.

"We came to see how you're holding up!" His wife added. "Where's your husband by the way?"

"Let's go to the lounge to talk," Cat suggested. "We can visit without disturbin' Daddy."

"What if he wakes up?" Bill's father asked.

"The nurses will come get me," she assured them, shepherding her former in – laws out of the room. She didn't speak again until they were comfortably settled in the lobby's lounge area. By that time, Cat had determined that her father hadn't shared what he'd learned about Alex with the McLaughlins. "Alex took a long – term security contract in Afghanistan before Daddy got sick. It's non military, so he can't get away until the contract ends."

"That's rough," Mr. McLaughlin acknowledged. "How'd your Alex get the job?"

"He's a former Marine. I guess some of those big corporations seek out ex military for these jobs. They offer good money, Alex felt like it would be a good thing to secure our future."

Cat felt uncomfortable glossing over the truth with her former in laws. 'They'd never understand how I could marry Alex after being with their son. Bill and Alex are as opposite as North and South!'

Just as she was about to change the subject, her mother in law stated, "We knew you'd eventually find someone else, but we didn't expect you to haul off and move so soon after Bill was killed!"

"You know why I had to leave, Mama," Cat protested.

"Yes, but it was painful to lose you after losing Bill," she replied. "We hoped you'd stay put until Bill's killer was found."

"I would've, had things been different. I can't believe the cops haven't found Bill's killer!"

"It's going to become a cold case if it goes much longer," Mr. McLaughlin sighed.

"I don't get it! They have the dude on film, so what's the problem?" Cat remarked angrily.

"Lots of murders in this town go unsolved for years, honey," Mama McLaughlin reminded her. "Many of those have more evidence than Bill's murder."

"I know. Doesn't make it right. I still have nightmares of the asshat deliberately pumpin' bullets into Bill. He didn't deserve it; he co operated with the thief, all he had to do was take the money and run to the waitin' car!"

The McLaughlins exchanged relieved glances. They'd feared Cat was no longer worried about their son's death with her remarriage. It lightened their hearts to know she still cared.

"We've wondered the same thing, honey," Mrs. McLaughlin admitted. "We viewed the tape. The hoodlum murdered Bill in cold blood. And for what? A few hundred dollars?"

"About that. The registers never had more than $100 at a time. The combined take wasn't a lot. It makes me think that there was more to this than a random armed robbery."

"That doesn't make much sense!" Mr. McLaughlin snorted. "Bill didn't have any enemies!"

"I know, Dad. But when y'all consider that no one's utilized 'crime stoppers' to turn in the shitbird, it's the only explanation that holds water," Cat explained. "With the economy the way it's been lately in this town, a thousand dollar reward should've tempted someone to come forward!"

"But who would want Bill dead?" Mrs. McLaughlin cried.

"I don't know, Mama," Cat sighed. A sudden memory flashed in her mind of 'Brownie' sneering that he'd gotten satisfaction before he clammed up. 'But I'm beginnin' to have a bad feelin' about a certain fucktard!' She didn't share the thought with her former in laws; it would just needlessly upset them. 'All I've got is a suspicion and nothin' to back it up. They deserve to know I'm 100% sure of it, providin' I ever tell them."

"That reminds me," Mr. McLauglin rumbled. "We have something for you." He withdrew a slim envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table to Cat.

"What's this?" She asked, holding the envelope in front of her.

"Open it and see," Mama insisted.

Cat carefully opened the envelope and withdrew a cashier's check. Her eyes widened when she saw the amount.

"It's your portion of the wrongful death suit we filed against the video chain," Mr. McLaughlin explained. "Consider it part of Bill's retirement that he would've gotten had he lived."

'It certainly makes up for what Dawn stole!' Cat thought, counting the zeros in the amount. "I never expected they'd settle, much less for somethin' like this!"

"Neither did we," Mama McLaughlin admitted. "We put our portion away for Bill's god children's future."

"This," she patted the envelope with the check stuffed safely inside, "is goin' straight into a few safe investment accounts first thing in the mornin'."

"It's yours to do with as you see fit, Honey," Mama McLaughlin replied.

The McLaughlins took their leave shortly after they presented the check to her and made plans to get together for lunch in a few days. "We still love you, and consider you a part of the family," Mama McLaughlin assured her.

"I know. You're still part of mine, too. I still miss Bill, but Alex - "

"We know," Mama interjected. "As long as he treats you good, that's what important."

"If he knows what's good for 'im, he'd better treat you like a queen!" Mr. McLaughlin growled.

---

'Brownie' leaned tiredly against the wall of the private elevator conveying him to Diane's penthouse. Every part of his body from his neck on down hurt. He was looking forward to a long, hot soak in Diane's hot tub. 'I imagine I'm black and blue all over!' He sighed inwardly. 'If not, it'll happen by tomorrow!'

What parts of him weren't bruised bore shallow cuts that stung but had stopped bleeding long before he was allowed to put his clothes back on and returned to Indy.

Thinking about the next day reminded him that his time in Indianapolis was officially numbered. The outlaws had made it clear that he was forbidden to show his face - or any of the disguises - at the hospital. They'd also let him know that he needed to get out of town, but unlike outlaws of old, he was given a little more time than sundown the next day.

"But if ya aren't outta town by sundown Saturday night, you'll find out that we can do a lot worse than what we've already done to ya!" The apparent leader of the bikers warned him when they surrounded the Cadillac at the gated entrance to the apartment building.

"Yeah! Especially since we know where to find ya!" The one that had cut into his plumbing laughed.

The bikers had insisted on following him back to the apartment building where he was staying when they brought him back to Indianapolis. "We just want to make sure you get home a'right!" The tobacco chewer chortled.

He felt a moment of panic when the group took him to the parked Cadillac. He held his breath, waiting for the men to recognize it from the 'chicken game' he'd played with them Saturday. If any of the outlaws recognized his vehicle, they didn't let on, and he wasn't about to confess to it. It came as a pleasant surprise that his captors took him back to town, though he was secretly glad for the ride. He doubted he would've been able to make the trek on foot. Not after the 'lesson' they inflicted on him. 'At least I got a few good licks in myself, so they know they were in a fight!'

After he'd stripped down to his drawers, the bikers insisted he remove his underpants as well. "So much for Miss Cat recallin' the shitbird goes commando!" One of the bikers chortled.

The outlaws dissolved into spams of laughter at the sight of his nakedness. The biker that wanted to cut him waved his belt knife over 'Brownie's' exposed manhood and remarked that it wouldn't do much good to use the knife on it. "Doesn't look like he's got much to spare!"

"It's not the size of the bone that counts, boys, but how ya use it," Ron observed dryly. "Knowin' our lady, she probably overlooked that particular short comin' because she cared for the guy."

"You're prolly right," the tobacco chewer mused. "Too bad she wasted her compassion someone who didn't deserve it!"

"Let's quit jaw jackin' and get this show on the road!" The apparent leader of the group snarled.

"Thought we already been on the road," remarked the youngest member.

"You know what I mean, wise guy!" The leader growled.

The short exchange gave 'Brownie' an opportunity to size up his captors. He was relieved that his hands and legs had been released from their restraints; it gave him more of a chance against them. He wondered if Cat had recalled his abilities in the martial arts, and if she'd informed her friends of that. The six men formed a loose circle around him, but weren't close enough to allow him to easily strike them. That told him they were aware of his martial arts abilities.

"This shitbird might be a couple of decades older than she remembered, but Miss Cat said he knows some of that kung phooey shit," the blond truck owner reminded them, confirming 'Brownie's' suspicion. "Watch yourselves!"

"You're not goin' to take a turn?" The British sounding biker asked.

"Nah," the blond shrugged. "I'll just watch and let y'all have the fun."

"Your loss, mate."

"I expect I'll manage to deal with the disappointment," the blond remarked dryly.

The 'lesson' didn't last long. It began with the bikers feigning a few punches at him, testing his reflexes, reach, and his abilities. After the first few feints, 'Brownie' determined they only knew about bare knuckled fighting and bar room brawling. He was able to fight off some of the fists, but the knife – wielding biker managed to get close enough to his right hip to distract him with a long scratch down his back.

White hot pain flashed up his spine, causing 'Brownie' to lose his concentration long enough for the Brit to land a solid uppercut to his face. 'Brownie' lashed out blindly with his foot, which sank into a mass of soft tissue. The grunt that accompanied the blow indicated he hit someone's belly.

The blow he landed galvanized the bikers, and they attacked at once. 'Brownie' was good at martial arts, but he was no Bruce Lee; the group got the better of him, and he felt to the ground, protecting his private parts by keeping his back to the group and crossing his arms over his nuts and dick.

The pummeling continued as the bikers used their feet, fists, and knives to inflict a great pain on their captive. Their blows weren't accompanied by any verbal taunts; the men saved their energy for the beating.

"OK, guys! Enough!" The blond called out after awhile.

The bikers were breathing heavy from their exertions. Sweat poured down their faces. It took a few more seconds for the blond man's admonishment to sink in as they each landed more one blow, kick, or stab to 'Brownie's' crumpled form.

"I don't think it's enough!" The knife wielding biker growled, aiming another kick at 'Brownie's' side. "Not when ya consider what he did to Miss Cat!"

"If it were up to us, I'd say meeting Mr. Mayhem is in order," the husky, bearded biker stated.

"Why don't we just introduce him to Mr. Mayhem anyway? How's Cat gonna know?" The knife wielder protested.

"Because we gave our word to a brother's old lady," the Brit sounding biker stated flatly. "We can't go back on it. It's against the by – laws."

"Lucky bastard!" The knife wielder spat.

"'E ain't gonna feel like gettin' up to much mischief from the looks of 'im," the British sounding one added.

The men forced 'Brownie' to his feet as the blond truck owner came up to them, holding out the man's clothes. "Better put these on him; I don't want to have to clean up any blood stains," he remarked, allowing the clothing to fall to the earth.

'Brownie' painfully dressed in the clothing, wincing as the material rested against the knife wounds the men had inflicted on him. None of them were deep enough to kill him, but they still hurt, and all had drawn blood. He knew the suit wouldn't be good for anything but the trash when he returned to Diane's.

'How the fuck am I gonna explain this to James?' He mused as the gang zip tied his legs and feet again and shoved him into the truck's bed. The burlap bag was placed over his head once more, causing him to wince once again. Though they'd not pummeled his face, there was a knife wound on the back of his head; it felt like a word or two had been carved into his flesh. The burlap wasn't soft by any means, and it irritated the scalp laceration.

The elevator stopped and the doors soundlessly opened onto the foyer to Diane's penthouse apartment. To 'Brownie's' dismay, James was waiting at the door for him. The house boy's expression changed from marked disdain to genuine concern at the sight of his guest's disheveled appearance.

"What happened sir?" James exclaimed.

"I was assaulted on the way back to the SUV," he explained. He had come up with the cover story during the trip back to Indianapolis. He didn't intend to go to the police; there was no statue of limitations on attempted murder. The age – old warrant from Vigo County would still be on his record and he had no doubt that Cat would've ratted him out to the locals. 'I'll just say I was mugged and didn't get a good look at the culprits. No one can force me to make a complaint to the cops!'

James shook his head and surprised 'Brownie' by pulling his arm around the house boy's shoulders. "I'll help you Miss Diane's room, then call the police!"

'Brownie' winced in pain and sucked air through is teeth in a hissing sound. "No police!" He gasped. "I can't give 'em a description of the muggers."

"But we need to report the SUV missing!" James protested, opening the door to Diane's suite and helping the injured man to the bed.

"It's parked down in the garage," he assured the houseboy, slowly removing the ruined clothes. "Check for yourself. All I wanna do is take a soak in the hot tub."

"You can't soak in the hot tub with those wounds and dirt!" James protested stridently. "Take a shower first, while I dispose of these garments; I'm afraid there's no way to save them."

"I figured as such," the injured man replied. "All right, fine. I'll shower first."

"Maybe I should take you to the emergency room," James mused, giving 'Brownie's' nearly naked body the once over. "You might need stitches on some of those cuts."

"I doubt that," he snorted. "Just toss that shit and let's see how I feel after the shower." He pulled down his blood stained drawers and tossed the underwear on top of the pile of ruined garments.

"Yes sir," James replied dutifully, picked up the clothing and holding them well away from his impeccable suit. "You'll find a well stocked first aid kit in the bathroom under the sink," he added before closing the door behind him.

'Brownie' padded into the bathroom, wincing with every step. He found the first aid kit, which was more like a plastic bin of supplies and drug it out onto the floor. Inside he found bandages of all kinds, hydrogen peroxide, antiseptic creams, and other items.

He started the shower running and set the massaging shower head to a gentle stream of water. 'Anything's gonna hurt like Hell no matter what settin' I use; no need to make the pain any worse than it is by tryin' to be 'Mr. Tough Guy'.

He hissed through his teeth again when the water and soap seeped into his open wounds. Considering all the dirt he'd picked up, the fact that the wounds stung was a good sign that the soap was doing it's job. He gently washed his bleached hair, feeling the back of his scalp to determine what had been carved there. His questing fingers didn't make out any words, just random long and short cuts.

Blood and dirt ran down his body to the drain. He was a little concerned by the amount of red blood he saw pouring off him, but he didn't feel weak or sick from the blood loss. Eventually the water ran pink, then clear from his body and he turned off the shower.

He dumped the entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide into the hot tub, then ran water into it before climbing in and starting the soothing jets. The water frothed around him, and he could see white foam appearing all over his body where the outlaws had cut him. Another good sign that the hydrogen peroxide was chasing any germs out of his system that the soap hadn't erased.

'The last thing I need is to get gangrene!' he observed wryly. 'Especially on my cock!' He relaxed in the hot tub and laid his head back in the water, aware that more foam would emerge from his scalp. He closed his eyes and listened to the steady sound of the pulsating water while he planned his revenge against Cat.

'She may think she's won this round. This war has just gotten started!'

---

"'Brownie's' been dealt with love," Cat reported that night when he called.

"He's met Mr. Mayhem!" Alex sighed in relief.

"No, but the 'Illinois Boys' impressed upon him the logic in stayin' away from me and mine," she informed him.

"That's not good enough!" Alex growled. "Why the fuck didn't they introduce him to Mr. Mayhem?"

"Because Daddy forbid it," she replied.

Alex's hand began massaging the bridge of his nose. "How does that man manage to get you to obey?"

"He usually can't!" She retorted. "I just gave in because he's sick!"

"Yeah, right!" He snorted. "And brown bears don't shit in the woods!"

"I pick and choose when to kowtow to that word," she laughed. "But honestly, love. I didn't have a choice. Daddy got really worked up over the thought of the guys takin' extreme action on that shitbird. He even tried to get up out of bed to follow me out to the hall! He didn't settle down until I promised to tell the guys to go easy on that fucktard."

"Jesus Christ!" Alex sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose again. "Did he hurt himself?"

"I don't know, love. He's been unconscious ever since I got back to his room after the guys left with 'Brownie'." She decided not to tell him about confronting 'Brownie' in the parking lot. 'He's gonna be upset enough when he finds out I exposed 'Brownie's' disguises!'

"Shit!" Alex groaned. "Did he stroke out?"

"The medical staff said he had another seizure," she admitted. "He's been on the bi - pap machine all day."

"Shit, woman! Why didn't ya just tell him the guys wouldn't go overboard? It's not like he was gonna know what really went down!"

"Because I just couldn't knowingly lie to him this time!" She exclaimed.

"But how in the Hell would he ever find out if the fucker met Mr. Mayhem?" Alex pressed.

"He'd eventually figure things out if there was a story in the news about 'Brownie' bein' missin'," she explained. "It would really disappoint him to find out I'd given him lip service and let the guys do what they wanted."

Alex winced at the sad note in her voice. It originally hadn't mattered to him whether Cat's father accepted him, but Blaine welcomed him as a son the moment they met. He didn't argue when she gave her father a carefully edited version of his history. What they told him was true - to a degree. He was a mechanic, in a club with other Harley riders, and had served in the Marines. The rest Cat considered 'fluff' that her father didn't need to know. "Damn!"

"Sorry, love," she replied apologetically.

"It's a'right, baby," he assured her. "I understand where your head was at."

"If it makes y'all feel better, the guys protested. A lot."

"That helps," he admitted. 'Blaine's always accepted me as family; better than my own parents. Sometimes between than my kids! Hell, if Dawnie took up with a character like me, I'd prolly go ballistic!' Rev. Marshall was one of the few men outside the club whose opinion Alex genuinely valued.

"It's not all bad news. The disguises he was usin' around here have been exposed. He knows security is on notice that no more slip ups will be tolerated, so he can't pull any more late night stunts," she reported.

"If the guys did their job right, he won't be up to pullin' any stunts!" Alex snorted.

"True; I was just thinkin' ahead to when he recovers."

"The guys had better have made him realize it'd be best to get outta town!" Alex growled.

"I'm sure they did, love," Cat replied soothingly, though she was fighting to suppress a laugh at her man's alpha nature rearing its' protective head. "He's run out of credibility here, that's for sure!"

"It sounds pretty quiet on your end," Alex remarked. "You at the apartment?"

"No, love. I'm still at the hospital," she explained.

"Why? I thought visitin' hours were over by this time!" Alex exclaimed.

"I've stayed after, love. Daddy's oxygen saturation level has been droppin' all afternoon. It doesn't look good, unless he makes it through the night."

"Shit!" Alex whistled sympathetically. "I'm sorry, baby. Why the Hell did you leave him to talk to me?"

"Because it's important to y'all," she replied. "Daddy wouldn't want me to ignore you."

"Hell, baby! It wouldn't have killed me to leave ya a voice mail!" Alex replied softly. The fact that she didn't begrudge him the time away from her father filled his heart.

A nurse appeared in the doorway to the lounge, urgently gesturing at the bikers that she needed to get Cat's attention. She had her back turned to the men as she stood in front of the window, looking out at the setting sun while she talked to her husband.

Cavey got up from the sofa and approached the nurse. "Is 'er father a'right?"

The nurse shook her head. "He's declining rapidly, sir. She should come back to his room immediately."

"I'll tell 'er, nurse," Cavey acknowledged quietly. 'This can't be good!'

The nurse nodded and hurried back down the hall to Rev. Marshall's room. Cavey sighed and moved silently to stand next to his friend. "Pardon me for interrupting Lady Cat. The nurse needs you in your father's room. You want me to talk to Tig about the shitbird?"

Alex heard his brother's comment. The announcement turned his stomach to ice. "Go to him, baby," he stated authoritatively before she could share the news with him. "Lemme speak to the charter."

He waited for the Brit sounding biker to take the phone, but Cat didn't hand the phone over to Cavey. She raced down the hallway with it in her hand as if she were holding onto a lifeline.

'Maybe I should hang up,' Alex thought to himself, but he kept the phone plastered to his ear, straining to hear the faint conversation between his wife and the medical personnel, hoping for good news and preparing for the worst.

"How's he doin'?" Cat inquired quietly. There wasn't a trace of panic in her voice, though Alex knew she was scared shitless.

"It's not good, Mrs. Trager. We're losing him," Alex heard the doctor reply just before the line went dead.

Alex closed his eyes in shared pain. "Ah, shit!" He moaned softly, leaning forward until his forehead touched the wall. "No!"