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

No copyright infringement is intended.

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

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

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

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

Charming Pawse

Book III

Chapter XXV

NS

This Charming Life

Jax drove Tara and Abel home in the van from his parent's house. Miles sat cross legged on the floor behind them. He would drive the van back to the clubhouse after dropping Jax at the crime scene to pick up his bike.

"I won't be long," he assured Tara. They were standing in the nursery where she'd just put the sleeping Abel in his crib. "I just need to get my bike."

"That's OK. I'll take a long, relaxing bath," she replied. "I'll keep the monitor on in case he wakes up before I'm out of the tub."

"Sounds like a plan," Jax kissed her soundly and departed. He knew they still had a lot to work out. For now, he was just content to her back.

He didn't say anything to Miles during the journey to retrieve his Harley. He pulled next to the parked bike and slid out of the van. He looked around the silent block, where remnants of crime scene tape fluttered lightly in the nighttime breeze. A grim smile of satisfaction crossed his face at the sight of a bit of that yellow tape wrapped around the antenna on Hale's car.

'So much for Salazar's last stand,' he mused. His thoughts turned to Agent Tyler's death in the back yard of the building. 'So much bloodshed,' he sighed to himself. He nodded at Miles and tapped the open window. "See ya tomorrow at the breakfast."

"G'nite, Jax. Glad ya got Abel and Tara back." Miles replied before putting the van in gear and inching away from the scene.

Jax strode to his bike, straddled it, and adjusted his helmet before slipping his clear eye glasses on his face. He keyed the ignition and listened to the reassuring roar of his bike's engine.

He put the bike into gear and rode to CPD. He hoped to catch up with Stahl before she left for the day. Now that Tara was safe, he needed to keep the Fed occupied so she wouldn't hunt his mother down. It was time to put the final stage of the plan in action.

Alex took a long pull from the ice cold beer his wife set in front of him. It was his third bottle since he'd gotten home, not that anyone was keeping count.

'Cat wouldn't keep 'em comin' if it was botherin' her,' he observed to himself. Between the marijuana and the beer, the edge of pain from letting his friend down and the continued grief of losing Missy was growing dull enough to handle.

Their drive home had been silent. He'd leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes, a clear indication he didn't want to talk. Cat accepted the gesture without pouting or trying to force a confidence from him. When they got home, he hung up his cut, then settled in his chair at the kitchen table.

Cat wordlessly limped to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of ice cold beer. She opened it and placed it in front of him, then turned away to dish up their meal.

He took his first pull from the moisture covered bottle, savoring the smooth texture of the brew. He didn't immediately dive into the heaping plate of slow roasted beef and vegetables Cat put before him. He emptied the bottle while she dished up her own, smaller portion.

"Would ya bring me another beer before ya sit down, baby?"

Her eyebrow disappeared into her bangs at his request. He cringed slightly, expecting a sharp edged retort. To his surprise, she quietly opened the refrigerator and withdrew a new bottle, opening it and setting it before him.

"I hope you intend to eat somethin' with that! Beer may have hops and other fiber, but man can't live off it for long!"

"Not a chance, baby," he assured her, hefting the bottle at her in gesture of thanks. "I just need to dull the pain."

"I accept that. Would ya rather be left alone? I could eat in the office," she offered.

"Don't!" He exclaimed, his eyes widening with hurt and surprise. "Where the fuck did ya get that idea?"

"OK, love. Take it easy," she crooned soothingly, settling into the chair next to his. "I'll stay with y'all as long as you want me to."

"Damn straight!" He muttered, dipping his fork into the contents of the plate.

They ate in companionable silence as usual. The cats begged treats from her, and she laughingly complied with their insistent demands. He watched under heavy lidded eyes, appreciating the fact that she didn't demand he confide in her regardless of his own feelings.

He felt bad enough about letting Kozik and the club down. He felt even worse that what might possibly be the last night they'd have together for some time hadn't gone the way he'd planned.

He had intended to take her away from Charming to one of their favorite spots in the country. They'd spend the night out under the stars, skinny dipping, fishing, sex under the stars in the wild. 'I wanted to give her somethin' special to hold on to while I'm gone instead of another night at home!'

He had two helpings of the slow cooked roast and trimmings, along with two more beers. It wasn't until he started on his fifth beer that Cat spoke up.

"I can tell you're still bothered about the vote," she stated quietly. "Feel like talkin' about it?"

"Not much to tell ya, baby. Clay wanted Kozik in, but it was just too soon for me."

Cat nodded and laced her fingers together on the table. "Y'all held Kozik responsible for it a long time. It's not fair for any one to expect you to do an abrupt about face with your perspective."

"Clay's not happy about it," he admitted. "Hell, I'm surprised he didn't rip me a new asshole after the vote." He took another swig of his beer and smiled grimly. "He sure looked like he was goin' to when he came outta the clubhouse."

"Oh, he did, did he?" Cat's voice held a chilling note of protectiveness in it.

"Don't be goin' on the warpath against Clay, baby!" Alex protested. 'She's like a lioness when she gets like that!' His eyes gleamed with delight at her display of fierce protectiveness for him.

'I suspect Kozik talked Clay outta rippin' into y'all. That's somethin' y'all don't need to hear from me, though!' She thought. Instead she retorted, "If Clay's as good a friend to y'all as you are to him, he has to eventually realize y'all couldn't vote in favor of somethin' he wanted at the expense of your own integrity."

'No need to remind her I've known Clay one Hell of a lot longer than I've known her! At least she's never questioned my ability to do my job for the club.' Alex frowned over her comment then growled, "What makes ya think I have integrity?"

"Y'all forget I see what others don't bother to see. They look at you and only see the bad ass outlaw."

"Sounds about right," he mused. "That's how I prefer it."

"Well, I don't see y'all that way. You're the one who does what has to be done because you believe it's the right thing to do, even if society's rules say somethin' different. That, my love, is what I think integrity is."

"And people think I'm warped!" He joked. Deep inside however, that ember that glowed where she was concerned erupted into a blazing fire, as if he'd just poured gasoline on it.

Cat favored him with 'the look'. She knew from the non - alcohol induced flush on his face that he was touched by her comment. As usual, he was covering his feelings with his own slanted sense of humor.

"C'mon, woman! Why are ya givin' me the hairy eyeball?" He protested innocently.

"You know why. Y'all need to take some of your own advice and learn how to take a compliment!" She growled. "Though there are times when I tend to agree with those who think you're a wee bit warped."

"Oh, ya do, eh?" He growled menacingly. "Maybe I oughta show ya just how warped I am!"

"Is that a threat or a promise?" She grinned mischievously.

"I never make threats, baby!" He reminded her. He rose from his chair to tower over her before leaning down to pick her up from her chair. He slung her over his shoulder and carried her cave - man style towards the bedroom.

"What about the dishes?" She squealed.

"Fuck 'em!" He growled.

"That doesn't sound very enticin'," she retorted. "They don't have any give!"

"Then fuck me, instead!" He pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot and tossed her on the bed.

It was very late at night when Jimmy O'Phelan's lieutenant finally returned to Putlova's hideaway. He carried a large duffel that he hefted onto the picnic table where Jimmy and Putlova had talked just a few hours earlier. He unzipped the duffel to reveal bricks of American money.

Jimmy felt a momentary rush of relief and elation, until his lieutenant reported he'd only been able to raise 712 thousand dollars. His stomach fell to his feet, but he managed to remain upright. He stared across the table at his lieutenant, thinking that his best friend and lieutenant had betrayed him.

A tense silence surrounded the trio. O'Phelan didn't dare look at Putlova. He continued staring at Donnie, whose gaze didn't waver from Jimmy's.

Putlova broke out into a delighted guffaw of laughter, clapping Jimmy on the back. He was pleased with the end result, and willing to overlook the fact that the total was a bit short of the 750 thousand.

Jimmy smiled in relief, sending his lieutenant a forgiving look. 'Ah shouldnae hev doubted ye, lad!' Jimmy thought to himself.

Putlova released Jimmy and closed the duffel, hefting it easily in one hand. "I'll just put this somewhere safe!" He announced, ambling towards the lighted entrance where his own lieutenant was standing watch.

The minute they were alone, Jimmy murmured, "Why were ye oot o'touch, lad? Ah wuz worried!"

"Afraid Ah'd run off wi' tha munny?"

"Aye. Ye wuz oot o'contact fer a long tyme, Donnie. Ah wuz worried tha' sumthin' bad might've 'appened ta ye!" Jimmy admitted.

"It took tyme ta liquidate our assets," the lieutenant explained. "Werd got oot tha' we needed ta layve. Tha sharks mayde thins muir difficult."

"Aye. Boot ye came through fer me, tha's whut matters!"

"We're not oot o' tha woods, yet, Jimmy!" Donnie replied. "SAMCRO's back. Werd is tha' tha Irish Kings hev put a boonty oot on ye. Thair noot 'appy aboot ye killin' tha fawthur. SAMCRO gits furst crack!"

"Tha' doesnae mean they'll succeed." Jimmy assured him. "We've gotten oot o' wurse scrapes before. We'll do it agin. After all, we hav Putlova's resources at our disposal! We'll be sayfe un soond in Sooth America afore ye kin it!"

Kozik trudged into the apartment he was sharing with Ima, unable to hide his disappointment from her.

"You didn't get the patch," she observed, moving into his willing embrace.

"Tig couldn't get past everything," Kozik sighed.

"I'm sorry, lover," Ima replied. She didn't ask what that meant for them. 'Now isn't the time to bring that up. He'll tell me when he's ready.'

Kozik sighed again and gently pushed Ima away so he could hang up his cut. "Dinner smells good. I'm kinda hungry."

"I made something that would stay warm without spoiling," she explained, leading him to the dining room table. He wearily sat down while she retrieved a beer from the refrigerator.

He gratefully accepted it and cracked it open, though he only took a small sip of the brew. He watched while Ima dished up the meal and set his plate in front of him. He didn't touch his plate until she sat down across from him.

"I'm surprised that Tig voted against you," Ima stated. "It looked like things were improving between the two of you."

Kozik swallowed his mouthful of food, washing it down with another sip of beer. "They were. You can't expect a man like Tig to change his attitude about something he's held firmly in mind for a long time."

"I imagine Clay wasn't happy."

"He mentioned it. He was gonna lay into Tig, but I talked him outta it."

Ima's face darkened with a frown. "Why?

"He's my friend," Kozik explained. "I kinda understand where he's comin' from. He loved Missy like he loves his daughters. Maybe even more so."

Ima frowned in consternation. "Look, I love animals and would love to have a pet of my own some day, but loving a pet more than your own flesh and blood?"

"Missy was safe for him to love, baby," Kozik replied. "No one would take Missy from him in a custody fight. He could give her all the love he had to give without worryin' about visitation schedules and shit like that. Then that accident took her away from him. An accident I caused."

"But he does realize now that you didn't do it deliberately!"

Kozik shrugged. "Yeah, he apologized to me after the vote."

Ima collected their empty dishes and rose from the table to could take them to the sink. She couldn't let him see the sudden fear that welled up in her eyes. "So what happens now?" She asked softly.

"Clay says I can still patch in under the 'hardship clause'," he replied airily. The beer had relaxed him a little too much, and the assurance slipped out before he realized it.

Ima turned around quickly, an intense frown crossing her face. "What hardship clause?"

"Shit!" Kozik scrubbed his face with his hands. "I wasn't supposed to say anything!"

"Since I won't be at the clubhouse for the breakfast tomorrow morning, maybe you'd better fill me in. It's not like I'm gonna tell anyone."

"You can't tell anyone, baby. Especially Cat. Even though this is gonna really hurt her when it happens."

Ima sat down at the table again and stared intently at him. "That bad, eh?"

"Yeah," Kozik replied grimly.

"Then I think you'd better fill me in, lover," Ima replied quietly.

After the press left, Jacob Hale realized he had no one waiting for word on his injuries, much less to take him home. He tried calling his secretary for a ride, but her line went unanswered. Nor did his crony at the clerk's office answer his call. He was so desperate that he called Croucher, only to have the man laugh and hang up on him. He finally called a cab to take him to the office building so he could retrieve his car.

He paid the cabbie, who deliberately didn't give Hale his change for the fare. 'Let him keep the money,' Hale thought tiredly. He was too exhausted to make an issue of it. He watched the cab pull away and walked across the street to his car.

The street where his business was located was quiet. The surrounding businesses were closed for the day. The street was an ocean of empty space. Most of the yellow tape that had cordoned off the area earlier had been removed, though some of it remained wrapped around a light pole and the aerial of his Mercedes.

Hale slipped into the driver's seat. He couldn't face going into the office alone to retrieve his coat and briefcase. The police had secured the building in his absence. Everything would be safe until the next day.

He drove to his silent home, grateful that he had that opportunity. If things had gone any differently, it could be him and Tara laying in the morgue instead of Salazar.

'Best not to think of that. I'm going to have a hard enough time getting to sleep tonight as it is!'

He unlocked the door and walked into the softly lit foyer. A single table lamp was set on a timer to come on at the same time every day, so he'd never walk into a dark house. He strode straight into the den, poured a full glass of bourbon and sank into his leather recliner.

Before he could even breathe in the liquor's bouquet, his cell phone buzzed insistently. 'Probably a reporter that wasn't at the hospital,' he thought wearily, digging the phone from his trousers pocket.

The caller ID showed an unknown caller. He sighed heavily, tempted to let the call go to voice mail. He didn't dare ignore Zobelle's call, so he pressed the 'answer call' button.

"You've had a busy day," Zobelle intoned before Hale could utter a greeting. "I trust you are realtively unscathed."

Hale glanced around his den, wondering anew if Zobelle had him under some kind of surveillance. He'd had the house swept for bugs and cameras twice, but nothing had been found. 'He must have one of the neighbors on payroll, telling him when I'm home!' He rubbed his eyes with one hand and replied, "A little bruised, but otherwise OK."

"That's not the impression you were trying to give to the media," Zobelle replied dryly. "A great acting attempt. One word of advice, don't quit your day job to become an actor."

"Very funny!" Hale snapped. "I'm sure you didn't just call to amuse yourself at the expense of my ego!"

"A mite touchy, I see. That's bound to happen when you've gone through such an ordeal and have no one to help you adjust and adapt."

"You don't have to rub it in!" Hale retorted, taking a sip of the bourbon to steady his nerves.

"I apologize. You're stressed. I've taken steps to help you with that," Zobelle replied soothingly.

As if waiting for Zobelle's comment, the front doorbell rang.

"What have you done?"

"Just taking care of your best interests at the moment," Zobelle stated. "Enjoy." The phone went dead as the doorbell rang again.

Hale struggled out of the leather recliner and limped to the door. He opened it to reveal a well dressed woman. She smiled enticingly at him and stepped inside before he could invite her in.

"Mr. Zobelle sent me," she explained, placing her expensive clutch bag on the hall table as she spoke. Her voice was low and sultry. She was dressed in an expensive dress that caressed her curvature without being skin tight. It flowed over her body like a waterfall, and Hale found himself responding despite his weariness.

The woman glided into his den and headed straight to the bar. She helped herself to a glass of whiskey and added soda water to it. She turned to face him and lifted her glass in a salute before taking a sip. "You don't look much the worse for your ordeal. I'm here to help you adjust and adapt," she purred.

"How?" Hale croaked, stepping into the den. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the subtle, expensive fragrance she left in her wake.

"Any way you wish," she assured him.

Jax slipped quietly into his home and stood in front of the closed door, just listening. A light cooing sound drifted down the hall from Abel's nursery. He walked down the hall and leaned against the door frame to the nursery, watching his son sleep.

He moved away from the nursery to his bedroom, where Tara was already in bed, sound asleep. She looked unscathed from her ordeal. Only a slight bruising on her face where Luisa had slapped her gave testament to the kidnapping.

'Tara's not going to have an easy time of it. I hope she seeks counseling at the hospital. If I could hold off on the plan for a few days, I would. Everything is set in place. Puttin' things off is gonna throw everything I've worked for in jeopardy. She's just gonna have to understand!'

He slipped out of his clothes, being careful to fold his cut in such a way that the brown file folder he'd received from Stahl remained hidden, and climbed into bed next to Tara. He wanted her so bad it hurt, but she needed rest more than sex. He settled for holding her in his arms as she slept. There'd be time enough for sex and to talk things out in the morning.

He frowned at the ceiling, thinking about his mother and the breakfast she'd insisted on having. He'd have to try to reign his mother in, and that was no easy job! 'I've gotta figure out a way to reassure Mom without tellin' her too much too soon!' He thought. He'd never considered the possibility that Gemma would take it on herself to confront Stahl and demand she kill their deal, much less threaten to recant the statement she'd given to the US Attorney.

'Tyler's death seems a little convenient, but I can't see Stahl bein' so ruthless as to have her own lover killed to keep Gemma's story intact!' He continued mulling the situation over in his mind, trying to find a balance that would satisfy Gemma, yet not give away too much of the plan.

Tara stirred in his arms. "Hi," she murmured sleepily. "When did you get home?"

"A little while ago," he whispered. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't," she replied, a little more awake now.

"I was afraid of that," he muttered, propping his free hand under his head.

Tara turned to her side so she could see him. She was careful about the stitched cut on the arm that curled around her. "You know we can't put this off forever, Jax."

"I suppose not," he sighed wearily. "I was hopin' we could just pretend that what happened before the club left for Belfast didn't happen."

"That's a little difficult, Jax. Of all the women in Charming, you had to use Ima for the 'dick move'?" Tara inquired dryly.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. She was there, and she's been chasin' after me a long time. I thought it would be the last straw if you caught us together," he explained.

Tara raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Were you that certain I'd come looking for you?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Part of me thought you might, but not to tell me you were pregnant. That is what ya were gonna tell me that mornin', isn't it?"

She nodded, hot tears welling in her eyes at the memory of finding him in the bed and Ima's clothes strewn about the apartment. "The minute she came out of the bathroom wearing your tee shirt, I decided there was no way in Hell I'd tell you about the baby," she admitted. "I should've known Gemma wouldn't keep it a secret!"

"She had a good reason to tell me, baby," Jax protested weakly.

"What could that possibly be?"

Jax detailed the purchased adoption Father Ashby had facilitated. "I was going to let Abel stay with the Petries. They were a normal family, Tara. I thought they could give Abel a happier, safer, and saner life."

"You seem to be doing a lot of thinking that you know what's best for others without their input," Tara retorted wryly.

Jax winced. "Yeah. I was just trying to do what I thought was best. When I came back to 'Ashby Alley' without Abel, Mom had a fit. She was so upset with me for givin' up Abel that the news of your pregnancy just slipped out."

"I'll just bet it did!" Tara snorted. "Gemma never says anything accidentally!"

"Well, she got her way. We went back after Abel, but Jimmy O'Phelan got to him first. The Petries were dead, and Abel was gone."

Tara sat up in alarm. "What on Earth did Jimmy want with Abel?"

"He used Abel as a bargaining chip with the Irish Kings. He offered to return Abel in exchange for a safe exit out of Ireland."

"And the Irish went along with that?"

"They really had no choice, and gave us just as much. Jimmy wasn't going to let Abel go without another shield. Father Ashby took Abel's place," he explained. "The Irish Kings have asked us to take out Jimmy. That will happen tomorrow. We know that Jimmy's under the protection of Victor Putlova, who runs the Russian NorCal gun business."

"Jesus Christ!" Tara whistled softly. "This is sounding more dramatic than a soap opera!"

"Except it's real, baby," Jax replied. "The Irish want Jimmy taken out. Putlova is loyal to one thing and one thing only. Money. Tomorrow, Otto's going to meet with Lenny the Pimp and find out what it's gonna take to get Jimmy from Putlova. It's not gonna be cheap."

"Do I want to know what's going to happen from there?"

"Probably not, but I'm not gonna hide it from ya. I'm done with secrets," he replied. He fought a twinge of guilt over the one secret he was keeping from her.

Ima shook her head in disbelief after Kozik finished telling her of Jax's plan. "You all voted in favor of this?"

"The Redwood guys did. I found out about it later."

"I don't get it. Why would Jax trust that Fed? She misused her authority to get back at Otto by raiding Caracara!" Ima informed him.

"It has to do with the Morado thing," Kozik replied. "Since some of 'em carried assault rifles, they're all lookin' at several years of Federal time. All the other charges were dismissed by the DA."

"So Jax is trying to get the Federal charges dropped?" Ima inquired.

Kozik shook his head. "He knows better. But he is trying to get Stahl to agree to a reduced sentence. They plea to the Federal gun charges and serve short time. That's better than what they could get otherwise, thanks to the three strikes rule."

Ima remained silent, thinking what that meant to the club and to the old ladies whose men would be incarcerated. "I don't care about Gemma and Tara, but I do feel for Cat! She and Tig haven't been married very long," she sighed.

"Tig thinks that if she finds out about it, she'll do somethin' to rock the boat without meaning to."

"Does he have good reason to think so?"

"You've not seen Cat in action!" Kozik grinned. "That woman makes things happen when she gets angry. Hell, she found the evidence that the guys never fired a shot at the Morado Christian Center for one. Then there was that Peace Rally she put together to spite Zobelle."

Ima nodded in understanding. "I remember the rally. So she's not to know until it happens."

"Exactly. None of the women were supposed to know anything until after the fact."

"You can trust me, lover. I won't breathe a word to Cat about it," Ima promised.

Kozik nodded and took a long pull from the beer. 'I've given Ima what she needs to know at this point. And that's more than the other old ladies are gettin'!'

Dawn painted the sky above Charming in dark pastel shades as the sun began it's climb the next morning. In many of the homes throughout town, families large and small began to wake and begin their day.

Gemma was up before dawn to prepare the breakfast. She made piles of pancakes and french toast, pans of cinnamon rolls, mounds of biscuits, muffins, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and scrambled eggs. Large aluminum pans of food were keeping warm in the oven.

She didn't worry about the beverages. She'd sent the Prospects to the store the night before for milk, creamer, sugar, and juice. 'Though I won't be too surprised if Piney doesn't have his usual tequila breakfast!'

Gemma worked on auto - pilot. Her mind was consumed with concern for her son. 'I thought this nightmare would be over after I confronted Stahl,' she mused wryly. 'Now her partner is dead and so is my threat to recant.' She had her suspicions about that fortuitous event. Though she had no way to prove it, Gemma suspected that Stahl had her partner killed, or did the deed herself, to keep control of the situation. 'I wouldn't put it past that gash to do it!'

Clay shuffled out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He leaned against the door frame to the kitchen, smiling as he watched his wife at work.

'Moments of domestic tranquility like this don't come often. Wish it could last all day, but it can't. As soon as we get the intel to retrieve Jimmy O, all Hell will break loose.' Pain flashed across his face at the thought of what turning Jimmy O'Phelan in to the Feds meant. 'I wasn't kiddin' yesterday when I told Unser about not knowin' when I'd see Gem again. 'Course, he had no way of knowin' what I meant.'

Gemma sensed his presence and looked over her shoulder. She smiled at him, looking endearingly grubby with a smudge of white powder on her cheek. Clay walked over to her, took his wife in his arms, and rubbed the smudge with his finger. "You're gonna wear yourself out before breakfast!"

"It's not that much work," she protested lightly.

"Did ya try to make 'Snicker Bar Muffins' for Tig?" Clay grinned.

"Nope. He'd just hoard 'em all so no one else would get any!" She remarked.

"That's true!" Clay laughed. "Any coffee?"

"Of course," Gemma grinned, pointing with the spatula to the full coffee pot. "Why don't you go back to bed for awhile? Breakfast isn't for another few hours."

"Can't sleep when you're not there," he replied, settling at the kitchen table with his coffee cup. 'Though I'll have to get used to that startin' tonight!'

Gemma's smile faded. "You'll have to get used it pretty soon, baby. Now that Stahl knows we're back, she'll come looking for me. I'm surprised she hasn't already stormed the place!" She turned back to the stove, flipping pancakes and french toast with one hand and stirring a pan of scrambled eggs in another.

"Stahl has other things on her mind right now," Clay murmured.

"Not for long!"

Clay took a sip of coffee and decided to change the subject. "Looks like you're makin' enough to feed an army!"

"You boys have good appetites!"

Clay winced inwardly, hiding his feelings behind his coffee cup. 'And we'll eat hearty, a'right. God only knows how long it'll be before we get another good home cooked meal!'

Stahl woke up screaming at the top of her lungs. She was sweating and panting as if she'd run a mile. She reached a shaky hand out to her bedside table, flooding the room with the lamp's glow.

She slowly turned her wild gaze upon the empty side of the bed next to her that had been Tyler's. The sheets were cool there and no indentation was on the pillow. She got up to check the spare room, then the entire downstairs until her racing heart calmed and she was assured that her partner was definitely dead.

She had dreamed that Tyler had survived the gunshot. Though rendered unable to speak, she could write, and wrote out a full declaration naming Stahl as her assailant. Gemma had followed up by recanting her statement to the US Attorney, claiming Stahl had pressured her to pin the murder of Cameron Hayes on her partner.

Tyler's written testimony and Gemma's recant of her previous statement had disgraced Stahl. She'd been led away in handcuffs by grim faced members of her own team while Opie Winston, Margaret Murphy, and Chibs Telford looked on in triumph.

'It must've been stress from that interview with IAD last night!' Stahl assured herself. Though she'd stuck to her claim that Tyler had been shot by a trio of Hispanic snipers, Jonas Carey had grilled her about her deposition once she'd completed her statement.

"Tell me again why you sent the CPD cops away?" Jonas Carey asked tersely.

"The SJSD tactical commander radioed that Jax Teller was chasing after Salazar. It made sense to pull the CPD officers from the back to cover other potential exits," Stahl replied.

"Why would you do that when you knew there were only two doors to the building?"

"A desperate man will try any possible means of escape, including jumping out of windows," she explained. "I made a judgment call. Was it the right one? Possibly not given the end result."

"You claim the Hispanics that ambushed you and Tyler were bikers. Yet they weren't wearing colors or patches?"

"I didn't see any cuts. They wore dark hoodies that covered any tell tale tattoos," Stahl insisted.

"Marcus Alvarez claims he only had three other club members with him," Carey observed.

"And you believe him?" Stahl snorted.

"All the members of SAMCRO backed him up. As did several civilian onlookers."

"They could've been Calavarez, contacted by Salazar to help him escape," Stahl replied firmly. "Or maybe some of the Mayans acting on Alvarez' orders."

Carey made a couple of notes and changed to a different line of questioning. "How do you account for only one shell casing being found at the scene, Agent Stahl?" Carey inquired coldly, glancing down at the sheath of incident reports in front of him.

"I can't. I only remember them sneaking up on us, firing, and running away down the alley to a late model grey Honda. Maybe they picked up the rest of the shell casings before they fled," Stahl replied smoothly. She couldn't ignore the irony in her giving a somewhat generic description of the get away car. She'd given Tyler quite a public dressing down for the same thing in the team debriefing the previous day.

"Ballistics show your service revolver hasn't been fired lately, yet you claimed to have fired a shot."

"I can't account for that. I know that I got at least one shot off."

"Then why wasn't a shell casing found that matches your service revolver? What did you use to return fire, Agent Stahl?"

Stahl shrugged her shoulders.

"I need a verbal response, Agent Stahl." Carey reminded her.

"I don't have an answer. I know what happened today and have reported it. Need I remind you that my partner was killed by those assholes?" She retorted.

"We're all suffering from the loss of a good agent," Carey winced.

"Not so good as she could've been," Stahl murmured.

Carey glanced down at his notes. Stahl had given a very convincing and emotional disclosure about her romantic liaison with Tyler and her confession to the death of Edmund Hayes in Galt. Something about that disclosure hadn't felt right to him.

"Yes, about that, Agent Stahl. You said that Tyler confessed before she died. Would you care to elaborate?"

Stahl blanched at the question. "Wh - what do you mean?"

"When exactly did she make this confession to you?"

"I told you, before she died!"

"Yes, but could you be more specific? Was it before she was shot or after?" Carey asked casually.

'You bastard! You're trying to find a hole in my story! Do you really think I'm stupid?' The camera was still recording her, but Stahl couldn't prevent her expression from mirroring her anger and frustration with Carey's thorough questioning. She drew a deep, shuddering breath and stammered, "I - it was just after she was s- shot. Just b - before the paramedics got there."

Carey wrote some more on his notepad, covertly watching Stahl's reaction. He didn't like what he saw, and he wasn't satisfied with her answer. "Is there anything else you wish to add?" He asked flatly.

"Nothing."

"You're dismissed, Agent Stahl. My condolences on your loss."

The ordeal finally over, Stahl drove home and went straight to bed. She didn't feel grief over the loss of her partner and one - time lover. Nor did she feel guilt for what she'd done to Tyler at the crime scene and during her debriefing. She wasn't even bothered by the fact that she'd lied to Jax in telling him the club would never find out about their deal. She had felt very satisfied with herself until she woke screaming from the nightmare.

Cat awoke to a dimly lit bedroom, and Alex snoring lightly beside her. His arms were wrapped around her waist and one of his legs thrown over hers.

Misty stirred at her feet and mewed inquisitively. "It's all right, little girl. The Lord and Master of the household is asleep."

"Not anymore!" He muttered groggily.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to wake y'all."

"I was awake anyway. What's that sayin' ya quote so often about drinkin'?"

He was referring to a comment a broadcast buddy of hers in Indianapolis always stated whenever he had to pee. "That y'all don't drink beer, just rent it space," she supplied laughingly.

"That's the one."

"Then may I suggest y'all quit talkin' about it and go take care of business? I really don't wanna have to change the sheets!"

He nipped her on the shoulder before reluctantly moving away from her. "You're all heart, woman!"

She grinned wickedly and retorted, "Aren't y'all glad it belongs to you?"

"I plead the fifth!" He stated, closing the door to the bathroom behind him.

Cat smiled, rose from the bed, and retrieved her nightgown from the rocking chair. She slid into it and padded down the hall to the guest bathroom. "Damn him! He just had to plant the notion in my head, and the bladder had to hear it!"

After taking care of her own business, she limped on to the kitchen. The plates were still on the table, but they had been licked clean of leftovers. Ming and Ebony were curled up on the couch looking quite satisfied with themselves.

"I'm surprised your tails aren't kinked, you pigs!" She murmured while stroking the cats' sleek fur. Ebony's eyes remained closed, though the tip of his tail moved slightly. Ming opened his eyes, blinked at her, flipped his scythe - like tail a couple of times, then stretched, turned around, and went back to sleep.

Cat moved away from them, Misty following at her heels, mewing plaintively that she'd not gotten to share in the bounty with her brothers. "I know y'all better than that!" She protested, giving the small one eyed feline a skritch under the chin.

Misty mewed again and butted her head against Cat's leg, insisting that she was so hungry she was barely able to keep body and tail together. Cat took pity on the small feline and scooped a few treats into her hand. Misty accepted the offering with dainty bites, licking Cat's palm for any crumbs.

"Damn! What's a guy gotta do to get that kind of treatment?" Alex complained. "Grow a tail?"

"I'd like to see that!"

"I might not have a tail, but I've got somethin' else that's growin'!" He retorted, standing with legs spread apart to show off his manly glory.

"So I notice. Better hope the cats don't mistake that thing for a snake and attack it! I don't think it's gonna look good with bandages on it."

"It might get a little sticky," Alex admitted. "Might be interestin'."

Cat rolled her eyes and collected the plates and utensils from the table. She put them in the sink and let the water run over them while she tested the temperature of the crock pot. It was still warm, but had cooled enough that she could put the ceramic crock in the refrigerator.

"Are ya gonna do domestic chores, or are ya gonna come back to bed?" Alex growled.

"Just give me a minute, I don't want this stuff to harden. Makes the dishwasher work harder."

Alex sighed and strode to the refrigerator to retrieve a beer. He glared at her while she rinsed the food off the dinnerware and stacked them in the dishwasher. "I dunno why ya bought that contraption. You do half the work it's 'sposed to do!"

"I've told y'all why. Old habits are hard to break. Y'all should know all about that!" She replied, wiping her hands dry on the dishrag.

"Are ya sayin' I'm an old man?"

Cat smiled evilly. "Why, love! I'd never say such a thing about y'all."

"That's more like it, woman!" He crowed, taking a long pull from his bottle.

Cat waited until he swallowed the beer before adding, "I'd never say such a thing about y'all because you did it for me!"

Alex choked and slammed the beer down on the counter. "You are so gonna pay for that woman!" He growled, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards the bedroom.

"What about your beer, love?"

"Fuck it! There are some things more important than beer!"

"Nice of y'all to realize that," she muttered.

Alex didn't respond verbally to her remark; he was too busy removing the nightgown that obscured his view of her body. He tried not to wince when he saw the multi - colored bruises on her legs and chest. 'I've grown used to the broken nose, but it hurts all over again when I see the other marks from that night!'

He pushed her towards the bed, then quickly but carefully covered her with his own long, lean, muscular frame before she could move. His mouth closed hungrily over hers while his hands roamed her body. His cock, already full and erect, rested between her legs, waiting for entrance as he nudged her legs apart with his knees.

Lyla lay awake in the large double bed, staring at the ceiling above her. Her mind whirled from Opie's sudden, but somewhat rambling proposal a few hours earlier.

They'd been sitting on the roof above the clubhouse, gazing at the stars over head. He'd pulled out a ring that he said had been his grandmother's, mumbling something about a lot of changes that were going to be happening. His tone of voice and comments about change worried her. She tried to get him to elaborate, but all he would say was that they needed to get married.

Married. To Opie. Something she dearly wanted with all her heart. Her throat had closed up, preventing her from being able to answer him.

He expectantly held the ring out to her. She took it but didn't put it on, holding it in front of her as if it were some kind of protective device.

Opie waited quietly for her to say something. 'It's either yes or no,' he thought. 'Or maybe, I guess.'

Lyla turned the ring over in her palm. The sodium lights caught the stone, making it gleam and glitter like a star in the dark. She cleared her throat and croaked, "Ope -"

"I know what you're going to say, Lyla," he interjected gruffly. "You're thinkin' that it's too soon after Donna died. You're thinkin' that the kids are just gettin' used to us bein' a couple."

"Y - yes. I'm thinking all of that," she stammered. "I - I'm also thinking of how sudden this is. You gave no indication that you were thinking about this before you left for Belfast."

"No, I wasn't. But I thought a lot about it while we were there. Especially after five of our brothers were killed," Opie replied. "That's what really got me thinkin' about us, and where we needed to be goin'."

Lyla knew about all the deaths that had occurred in Belfast. She and Cat had discussed it via the 'support group' after the prospects had been talking about it in her presence. She'd been upset and worried, and called Tig's wife from her car.

"The guys are whole, Lyla," Cat had assured her. "Tig would've told me if anyone had been killed. The prospects shouldn't have been talkin' so freely about somethin' they didn't have all the facts too. That's how rumors get started!"

"It doesn't sound like they're in a good place," Lyla observed.

"Ireland's not a safe place for anyone, includin' the Irish," Cat announced.

"Yeah. I guess so," Lyla admitted. "I'll be glad when they're all back home."

"So will I. In the meantime, keep calm and try not to worry. It's easier said than done, but y'all aren't in this alone."

She didn't know all the details about what had occurred in Belfast, but she knew that Opie had been shaken by it. Shaken enough to want to make their relationship permanent.

She turned to face him, placing her hands on either side of his face. "I - I don't know what to say. The obvious response would be 'yes', but -"

Opie inhaled sharply, but didn't remove his gaze from hers. "Go ahead," he replied encouragingly. His heart was racing with fear that she was going to reject him outright.

"I'm not saying 'no', either. Can I sleep on it?"

"Of course," he assured her, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply. His heart rate settled down now that he had an answer. It was a 'maybe'. That would have to do for now.

They'd gone home and spent some time with the kids before putting them to bed. The kids were happy and excited to have their father home, and begged for stories about his visit to Belfast.

Despite his fatigue and his dislike for the Emerald Isle, Opie hid his real feelings from the children, and spun tales about the Belfast charter and the scenery that had the kids enthralled.

"No," he laughed in response to Ellie's question about leprechauns. "There are no leprechauns in Ireland. Lots of children, and lots of rain, but no leprechauns. At least, I didn't see any."

"They were probably too scared of you to let you see them!" Kenny piped up.

"You're probably right, son!" Opie smiled. "They might've thought I'd take their pot of gold from them."

He tucked the children into bed, kissed them goodnight, and assured them he'd be there in the morning when they woke up. He watched Lyla say good night to them, then they, too, went to bed.

They didn't have sex that night. Opie fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow. Lyla gazed at him in fond sympathy. She knew he was tired from the trip and all he had endured while in Belfast. She lay awake beside him, listening to him sleep, and thinking over his proposal.

She still felt the spectre of Donna's presence from time to time, but it was growing less noticeable to her. Opie never talked about Donna around her, only when Kenny and Ellie asked about her. Then he would take the children out of Lyla's hearing so they could freely discuss their mother.

'Opie wants to be loved. He wants to be with me. I want to be his wife, there's no doubt in my mind about that,' she decided. 'I know I can make him happy.'

Decision made, she slipped the ring he'd given her on her finger. It fit perfectly. She fell asleep, smiling at the thought of Opie's reaction when he woke up and found her wearing the ring.

Jonas Carey continued reviewing Stahl's interview and his notes long after the agent departed. His cop's instincts were screaming that something wasn't right about the agent's story. 'There's more holes in it than a leaky sieve!'

He compared Stahl's recorded statement to Gemma Morrow's statement. There were several key phrases that were just too similar for his liking. 'Similar? They're word for freaking word!' Carey highlighted the similarities and listened to both recordings again.

'No doubt about it, even the intonations are similar!' He thought to himself. 'It's as if Mrs. Morrow was trying to let us know this was not her statement!'

He scrutinized the ballistics report. It didn't make sense to him that Stahl couldn't account for not firing her service revolver. 'How did she get off a shot and have gun residue on her hands without using her gun? Tyler's wasn't fired, either! Guns just don't get up and walk away!'

The ballistics report confirmed that the lone shell casing recovered at the scene and the bullet that had killed Tyler came from the same gun. The one recovered at the scene. The analysis of the gun residue test only confirmed that Stahl had fired a gun, but not any gun in particular.

The recovered gun had been tested for prints, but the test had been inconclusive. Someone had obviously wiped the gun before tossing it away, smudging the fingerprints so they were unusable. That raised another red flag in Carey's mind.

'A bunch of outlaw bikers aren't going to worry about wiping a gun for prints. They usually wear gloves when they use guns for a crime, and they don't drop their guns, much less pick up their shell casings!'

The voluntary statement Stahl had given, implicating that Tyler had confessed to the bad shoot in Galt made no sense. He gazed intently at the pictures of Tyler's mortal wound. He didn't think it would've been possible for her to speak before she died. 'I'll have to ask the Medical Examiner if that would be possible.' He picked up the office phone and dialed the coroner's office.

"San Joaquin County Morgue," the tired voice on the other end announced.

"It's Jonas Carey. I'd like to ask you a couple of questions about Agent Tyler's fatal injury."

"What do you want to know?"

"Is it possible for a person with that kind of injury to speak?" Carey inquired bluntly.

"The answer is no."

"No?"

"The bullet tore through the carotid artery, making her blood pump out with every heart beat. It rendered her unable to speak," the coroner explained. "She might moan, possibly mouth a few words, but that would be the extent of it."

"Would she be able to mouth a detailed statement?"

"How many words?"

"Enough to give a full confession to a bad shoot," Carey replied.

"Definitely not!" The coroner asserted.

"You're absolutely certain of this?"

"Dead certain," the coroner replied, his tone of voice dry despite the pun.

"That's all I need to know," Carey replied. He disconnected the call and placed the receiver back on the cradle. "She lied!" He growled to no one. "She flat out lied to me!"

It had been a last second inspiration to ask Stahl to specify when Tyler had confessed. He knew he'd caught her off guard. Her expression had told him that much. "I've got to give her credit, she's good at thinking fast on her feet, but not good enough!"

One lie wasn't enough to take to his superiors and have Stahl charged with murder. It was a start, but he knew how the union would work. They'd claim that Stahl's voluntary disclosure had been made under duress. He would need to find more concrete evidence to tie Stahl to Tyler's death.

"If she was willing to lie about her own partner and lover, what else has she lied about?"

Carey picked up the phone and called the records department. He demanded a copy of every report from the Galt incident, and of every one of Stahl's cases since then.

"That's going to take some time, sir," the clerk replied.

"I don't care how long it takes!" Carey replied hotly. "I want those copies as soon as you can get them to me. And this is for my eyes only. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" The clerk replied before ending the call.

Carey knew he had a long road ahead of him, and not much time to travel it. The answers were out there, he just had to find them.

Alex woke up just in time to hear the muffled thud of paws hitting the bedroom carpet. He smiled and raised himself up on his elbows, watching Misty and Ming race to the bedroom door. 'Guess they must've caught on to my thoughts!' He grinned wickedly, glancing over at his wife, who was still sound asleep.

Wife. At one time that word had meant goals that seemed beyond his reach. Things like a home where he was accepted and belonged. After the train wreck that had been his relationship with Colleen, he'd sworn off long term relationships with women. None of them seemed to be able to give him what he needed and wanted, to be loved without condition. The kind of love Missy had given him. 'These last few months with Cat have brought me everything I've ever wanted from a woman but never expected to get.'

He glanced at the clock on Cat's dresser table. The digital read out assured him there was still plenty of time before they had to appear at the clubhouse for Gemma's breakfast. Time enough for him to indulge in the pleasures his wife's body gave him.

His eyes feasted on her face as he peeled the covers away from her. 'Damn anemia! She's always burrowin' into the covers to keep warm!' A slow smile crossed his face as she unconsciously snuggled against the warmth of his body.

His hand lightly caressed her skin, tracing the curves and contours. Her skin always felt smooth to his questing fingers. Though they'd made love several times overnight, the light scent of her berry scented body lotion was still discernible.

He buried his face in her hair, breathing in the rich aroma of the tea and berry scented shampoo she favored. The silken strands tickled his nose. A lock of her hair caught in his beard stubble, momentarily linking him to her. It was a snare that wasn't unpleasant.

Cat moaned and snuggled closer to him. "I'll warm ya up, baby, don't worry!" He murmured reassuringly. His eyes turned a dark sapphire with want and need, and another emotion he didn't often admit to. Love.

His hand brushed against the stitches in her side. 'As if I need another reminder of that damn feud between Kozik and me!' He snarled inwardly. Kozik had visited her at the hospital and attempted to turn his wife against him. During the visit, Kozik had accidentally shoved her into the side of her bed, causing a lung to collapse. Kozik had only made their feud worse instead of turning Cat against him. 'Hell, if she wouldn't leave me after I admitted to killin' Donna, I doubt anything could turn her against me!'

He shoved his thoughts about Kozik aside, not wanting to re - examine the reason he'd voted against Kozik patching into SAMCRO for a second time. 'I don't wanna think of anything that's gonna bring me down right now. Plenty of time for that shit later.'

Alex ran his hands over his wife's pliant body, enjoying the rush of electricity that flowed through him. No other woman affected him the way Cat did. He might find physical release with another female, like he had with Amelia a few weeks earlier, but it wasn't the same.

'I wish I could've made that impassioned plea to Alvarez that Kozik made,' he observed ruefully. 'I couldn't put it into words, but he said everything I feel!'

He'd tried to apologize to Cat for his lack of telling her the things he felt she needed to hear. As usual, his wife understood him better than he understood himself. She accepted that he couldn't put into words the things he felt for her, though he tried to show her every day.

"I prefer words to action, anyway!" Cat had assured him. Remembering that made his eyes gleam.

'Speakin' of actions, it's about time I get a little action!' He turned his wife onto her back so he could pay homage to her breasts. He suckled each nipple until they were tight, taunt peaks in his mouth.

Cat moaned in her sleep, but she didn't wake up. He recalled that she'd gotten up soon after they'd had sex again to take a pain pill. Alex didn't mind that she was asleep, it would give him a chance to do something he'd wanted to try for a long time, and couldn't do with her completely conscious.

'I don't give a shit whether it's gay or not. It's not like anyone else is gonna know, and I've always wanted to know what we taste like!'

His hand slid down her belly to her thigh, then over to her mound. The curls were still damp from their last encounter. His hand stroked her dark pubic hair. He was quite grateful that she wasn't partial to shaving her pussy. He preferred it that way.

His mouth and tongue blazed a trail from her breasts down to her pussy. He breathed in the scent of her skin along the way. The slight aroma of her perspiration mixing with the body lotion was like an aphrodisiac. His cock hardened against her thigh.

'Take it easy, big fella! First things first!'

He lay his cheek on her thigh, his hand curled around her other thigh. The scent of their combined juices smelled better than he'd imagined. His hand slid along her thigh to her opening, then he stuck a finger inside.

Cat moaned again and opened her legs for him, granting him better access. He smiled slyly and inserted another finger, relishing the rush of heated moisture that coated his fingers.

He withdrew his fingers and brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply. He smelled spice. Not peppery spice, more like a heady natural scent. Better than the outdoors they both loved. Even better than the smell of the garage.

He put his wet fingers to his lips. The smell was heavenly so he could only imagine the taste. His male musky scent and her womanly aroma together was enough to make him want to come.

He lay still, willing his cock to obey him. He waited until the hard edge dulled a bit, then he put his fingers into his mouth, sliding his tongue around them.

'Shit! Pie and cream never tasted as good as this!' He savored the taste on his tongue like it was a fine, well aged whiskey. He sucked his fingers clean, then lowered his head so that he could enjoy a second taste.

This time, it was his tongue and lips that did the exploring. 'I wish Cat wasn't so squeamish about this! She doesn't know how much I enjoy this!'

His tongue brushed against the raised lump of flesh at her entrance. He traced it, fitting his teeth against the scar. 'This is why she's so scared of it. First that fuckin' bastard hurts her where no woman should be injured, and then I had to go and reopen the wound!'

He shuddered to recall that awful night when he'd accidentally killed Donna. He'd gotten drunk and picked a fight at a bar, trying to find a way to atone for his mistake. He'd won the fight and come home to the shelter of his wife's arms. He'd found solace in her body several times that night, but got carried away when he was eating her, literally tearing a chunk out of her.

She'd never held that against him, but she'd also never felt the same about accepting oral sex from him. He repeatedly and apologetically licked the scar tissue, then sucked on it as he could ease the long ago inflicted pain. 'If I could take away the memory of that from ya, I'd do it in a heart beat, baby!' He felt her stir against his mouth and raised his eyes to look at her.

Though her body twitched in ecstasy, her eyes remained closed. He couldn't tell whether she was keeping them closed from dread or sleep. There was one way he could find out.

Lowering his eyes, he buried his nose in her pubic hair and thrust his tongue up into her warm wetness. He nearly came as their juices flowed into his mouth. No beer, no whiskey, nothing ever tasted so good.

Cat gasped and her hands went to his head in an attempt to remove his face and tongue from her. "A -Alex! Please don't!"

He reluctantly lifted his head from her clit high enough that he could gaze longingly at her. "Baby, you don't turn me off. Don't you realize that your aroma is better than any beer?"

"It - it scares me, love," she admitted, hot tears tracing her cheeks. "Y - you've never been told -"

"Fuck that shit, baby!" He growled. "I've never told ya it smells rotten down there, and I never will!" His cock was rigid against her leg. "Can't ya feel what ya do to me?"

"Y - yes, b - but," she stammered and then fell silent. She knew he never asked her to let him 'down there' very often. The few times she allowed it, she'd tried to enjoy it for Alex's sake, but she'd endured it and waited for him to finish in secret, not wanting to interrupt his pleasure.

"No buts, baby. Not this time," Alex murmured. His voice was slightly muffled by her pubic hair.

"Y'all do realize that you're tastin' your own sperm, don't you?"

"So what? You've had pie with cream on it. That's what this is," he retorted, plunging his tongue into her again and allowing that cream to ooze inside his mouth.

"Not like this!" She gasped. Her traitorous body rocked under his ministrations, bucking against his mouth with a need that belied her dread.

Alex lifted his head and slid up so that his face was inches from hers. "Take a deep breath, baby," he murmured. "I want you to share what I smell. It's not a bad smell at all. It's us. It's natural. How can it be rotten?"

She held her breath, but Alex gently pushed against her chest, forcing her to exhale. He brought his face closer to her nose and breathed their aroma into her nostrils. "C'mon, baby. Breathe it in!"

Despite herself, Cat took a deep breath. His scent was there. All male. Musky and hot and sinful. There was another, lighter scent. She couldn't describe it to herself, but it was definitely not offensive.

Alex cupped her face with his hands and placed his lips against hers. "Taste us, baby. I want you to enjoy what we taste like," his tongue slid against her lips, seeking to gain entrance. Her lips parted slightly and he pushed his tongue into her mouth, sliding against hers so that she could taste their combined juices that he'd tasted.

Alex moved his hand slowly to her throat, rubbing it gently to make her swallow. Her eyes closed under his tender assault, and she finally obeyed his unspoken command. Her throat convulsed for a moment, then she relaxed.

He kissed the tears from her face, then lay his head on her breasts. "That wasn't so bad, was it, baby?"

She shivered all over. He could hear her heart racing, felt the sheen of sweat on her skin. "N - no," she whispered hoarsely.

"When someone does that with no other thought than to express how they feel to ya, it's not a bad thing." He continued. His hand moved along her side and slid along to her pussy again to rest on the dark curls. His fingers curled into the nest of hair. Her pubic hair was just as silky to his fingers as the hair on her head. It was also, he was gratified to notice, free of the grey color that stubbornly adorned the hair on her head.

"Every time I eat you, it's to show you what ya mean to me. It's never with the thought of hurtin' and degradin' ya. I'm not the fucktard that first hurt ya down there. When are ya goin' to let that go?"

Cat closed her eyes against the pain in his voice. She didn't have a problem in giving him head. She enjoyed the feeling of power the act gave her, how his hands would curl into her hair as she worshiped his shaft, licking it like she would an ice cream cone. She loved to hear the air escape through his teeth as he hissed with pleasure when she'd take him all the way into the back of her throat and swallow, or lap like a cat drinking cream at the beads of moisture that would seep out of the head of his dick.

'Is that how he feels?' she asked herself. Does he listen for sounds of pleasure from me? Does it make him feel powerful when he makes my body react to him?'

As if he could read her mind, Alex murmured, "Baby, whenever you suck my cock, it's like a good ride on the Dyna. I feel like I'm flyin', and takin' ya with me. That's what I want ya to feel when I'm eatin' ya. I want it to be as natural to ya as suckin' my cock."

'I wanted this to be somethin' you'd remember in the lonely nights that are comin'. I want to make ya come hard in my mouth, and remember that ya enjoyed it instead of endurin' it because I wanted it. Just this one time, baby!' He sighed and closed his eyes against the tears of pain over that long ago night. "Are ya ever gonna forgive me?"

Cat battled her inner demon, reassuringly stroking his wild mane. She felt hot moisture drop onto her thigh and knew that he was shedding tears over her rejection. It broke her heart and the last of her fear. "Oh, Alex, love! I forgave y'all the minute it happened!" She cried.

"Ya don't act like it! Every time ya refuse me, or just lay there and endure it, I feel like you're still holdin' it against me!"

"No, love," she stated firmly. "You don't ever need to feel that way."

Alex looked up at her, his eyes glistening with tears that made the blue of his irises shine like sapphires. "You're sure, baby?"

"Love, you've never used sex as a weapon for pain and hurt. Only pleasure. That time wasn't you, it was your grief and pain that was tryin' to push me away anyway y'all could. I know you'll never degrade me with your mouth, your tongue, your lips, your hands, or your cock."

His eye lids closed slightly, but the desire was there all the same. He wanted to bury his face into her pussy, but he wanted - needed her to invite him. "Tell me what you want me to do, baby," he ordered huskily.

"You know what I want," she replied, pushing his head where he wanted to go.

"No, you have to tell me what you want me to do to you," he insisted. His eyes, half covered by his eyelids, met hers in entreaty.

"Please, love, have your way with me. Put your tongue inside me," she whispered shakily.

Alex moved his head so that it hovered over her mound. His eyes caught hers as he savored her taste.

Cat didn't close her eyes or look away from him. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered his head and placed his mouth against her clit. He sucked it lightly, running his tongue along the scar tissue, watching her expression.

Her eyes remained locked with his. A slight smile lit her face. Her hand curled in his hair, guiding his head lower. Her body rocked against his mouth as he slid his hands under her butt.

He kneaded her flesh, holding her in place while he sought to make her come. He picked up the pace, thrusting his tongue inside her again and again, listening in triumph to her moans of pleasure. When she came, he lapped the cream, savoring each drop.

Without giving her time to recover, he slipped his cock inside her warm and tight pussy. He thrust slowly inside at first, then sped up as she quivered with aftershocks from her orgasm.

He drove deeply while his fingers sank into the hair on her head. His mouth found hers, his tongue plundering her mouth, sharing their taste.

He was able to hold off until he heard and felt her come a second time. He spilled inside her, moaning as her muscles clamped down on his pulsating shaft. He knew they'd passed a significant milestone and smiled triumphantly.

Keeping her injuries in mind, he slowly sank on top of her, burying his face in her shoulder and neck. His cock remained inside, and he hissed through his teeth when her muscles continued to squeeze every drop out of him.

'If I had my choice of prisons, I'd stay here for life!'

Jax had showered and dressed, allowing Tara to laze in bed after their lovemaking. Now she was in the shower, while he ventured into the nursery to spend some time with his son.

Abel gurgled and cooed as his father lifted him from the crib and sat on the couch with him. A fresh sense of gratitude washed over Jax to have his son in his arms once again.

His thoughts turned to the day ahead. He had a meeting set with Stahl later in the morning. He'd give her some of the names of the Irish Kings she needed, but not the main shot callers. 'Just enough to make her hot and bothered and not until I know she's set up the face to face for Otto and Lenny. No meet; no names.'

He knew he had to tread carefully with Stahl. He had no doubt that she had lied to him about the club never knowing that he'd been working with her. 'She'll be quite surprised when the tables are turned on her. I just hope this gives Ope the revenge he needs for Donna.'

He heard the water stop running in the bathroom and knew Tara would be looking for him soon. "Ready for a party, little man?" He asked his son.

Abel grinned at him as a particularly pungent odor filled Jax's nostrils. He grimaced then shrugged his shoulders and stood up, heading for the changing table. As ripe as the diaper had gotten, it was like a bouquet of roses to Jax.

"I'll take care of it," Tara offered from the doorway. She had changed into street clothes but her hair was still damp.

"I've got this," he assured her. 'After all, I won't get to do it after today.'

"I won't argue with you," Tara smiled.

"Wish ya'd remember that, woman!" Jax quipped good naturedly.

"I was referring to you pulling diaper duty, fella!" She retorted.

"Yeah, right!" Jax quickly cleaned his son, applied powder, and slipped a fresh diaper on his bottom. He tossed the dirty, loaded diaper in the covered trash can, then returned to his son to dress him in the onesie Tara retrieved from the drawer.

"I'll carry the diaper bag," she stated as Jax placed Abel in his car seat.

"I'm ridin' in with ya," Jax replied. "You can bring me back for the Dyna later."

Tara smiled brightly at the idea of them arriving to the breakfast as a family. "OK."

The ringing of his bedside phone roused Jacob Hale from a sound sleep. His hand automatically moved to one side as he glanced at his clock. The sheets were cool and vacant. There was nothing to show that a woman had shared the night with him except for a faint trace of expensive perfume.

He lifted the receiver and grunted sleepily, "Jacob Hale."

"I trust your companion performed adequately?" Zobelle inquired.

Hale cleared his throat. "Extremely."

"Good. I felt you needed companionship after your rather 'harrowing' ordeal. Quite a write up in the San Joaquin Chronicle, by the way," Zobelle replied. "They're calling you a hero."

"It was nothing," Hale stated.

"I'm sure it was," Zobelle intoned dryly. "You've made significant gains in your bid for the Mayor's office. Only a fool will oppose you."

"Speaking of fools, there's Cat Marshall's candidacy to deal with."

"There will be no 'dealing' with it," Zobelle announced flatly.

"What do you mean? She could throw all kinds of obstacles in my - I mean - our way!" Hale protested.

"You need her presence on the city council."

"What? Are you nuts?" Hale cried.

Zobelle didn't respond right away to Hale's pronouncement. When he did speak, the coldness in his voice made the Transatlantic communication crackle with ice. "I'll excuse that comment this time, due to the early hour. Do not test my benevolence."

"I'm sorry, sir. I just don't see how -"

"If you listen, you might learn something," Zobelle interjected. "The populace will accept your 'reforms' more readily if the city council isn't stacked in your favor. The citizenry tends to grow stubborn and irate when too many questionable things are automatically approved by the governing body. Mrs. Trager will serve as the balance in your regime, but she will not be a hindrance where it counts."

"You sound awfully sure of yourself. What can you do from there?" Hale challenged.

"The better question is, what can't I do from here," Zobelle answered before the line went dead.

Hale stared at the receiver, then shivered as a chill raced up his spine. He returned the receiver to the cradle and burrowed under the covers, seeking warmth and solace from the fear Zobelle's calculating assurance had instilled in him.

James Windover draped his suit coat over the back of his chair and stared at the pile of mail on his desk. He shrugged his shoulders and strode to the break room to pour his first cup of coffee for the day.

He carried the coffee carefully back to his desk, settled in his chair, and began sorting through the envelopes. He paused when he came to a hand addressed legal envelope with the words, 'personal mail, do not open in mail room!' written on the bottom.

He tossed the other envelopes on his desk and carefully opened the intriguing letter, removing several pages of small notebook paper. 'This looks like it came out of one of those notebooks police officers use!'

He quickly scanned the pages, read the signature, then returned to the first page. He read the entire letter, jotting notes in his own 'reporter's notebook.' After he'd read the letter through a few times, he made a copy of it and stuck the pages in a file folder that he put in the locking file drawer of his desk.

He sat back in his chair,debating whether he should assign the story to one of his reporters, or handle it himself. 'It's best that I handle this own for now. If I turn it over to one of my reporters, the ATF will try to squash the story. At least I have a chance of keeping it alive for awhile!'

He logged into his computer to perform a search on the area ATF, looking for a local contact number for their Internal Affairs division. Once he found it, he dialed the number and waited.

"Agency of Tobacco and Firearms, Internal Affairs," a crisp voice announced.

"I need to talk to the agent investigating the death of Agent Tyler," Windover stated.

"Whom should I say is calling?"

"James Windover, assignment editor at Channel 2 news."

The agent sighed wearily. "Agent Carey isn't giving statements over the phone. A press conference -"

"I'm not calling for a statement," Windover interjected. "I have intel about Agent Tyler's murder."

The agent's eyebrows rose at the reporter's statement. No one outside the Agency had referred to yler's death as a murder. Carey had muttered aloud that he had suspicions that all wasn't right with Stahl's statement. The agent made a quick decision and replied stonily, "Agent Carey will be with you in a moment."

The agent punched the hold button and called out, "Carey! You'd better take this call on line two!"

Agent Carey looked up blearily from his coffee cup. "Who is it?"

"The assignment editor at Channel 2. He's calling with intel on Tyler's murder."

Carey's eyes gleamed from his fellow agent's comment. "Yeah, I think I will take this one."

There was no hold music. Only the lack of dial tone indicated to Windover that he'd not been disconnected.

"This is Agent Carey. I understand you have some intel for me?"

"Yes," Windover replied. "But this is something that shouldn't be discussed over the phone. Can we meet?"

Carey sighed wearily. He had poured over the photos and other evidence from the scene of Tyler's death for hours, trying to find the elusive evidence he needed to proceed with an investigation against Agent Stahl.

Sensing the agent's reluctance, Windover added, "I think you'll want to see this evidence, and will appreciate why I'm being cautious about it."

"All right. Are you familiar with 'Hannah's Place' in Charming?"

"Very," Windover replied.

"Meet me in the parking lot in an hour," Carey replied. "Try to be inconspicuous."

Agent Stahl's eyes darted open, blinking from the morning sunlight streaming through the bedroom curtains. The nightmare that had broken her sleep hours earlier seemed less menacing in the daylight. She stretched her hand out to what had been Tyler's side of the bed, reassured by the cold sheet and pillow. 'Tyler's dead, and there's nothing that can tie me to it. Carey might have suspicions, but he has to have evidence to move against me. He won't find any.' A smile of satisfaction crossed her face.

It irked her that she'd had to clear Gemma in order to pin her own dirty deed on Tyler. She's thrown the dice and was stuck with the lot she'd rolled. Part of that was arranging the meet between Lenny Jankowitz and Otto Delaney. Otto was the last person she'd do any favors for, but it was a necessary evil. Thanks to Otto, she had inurred a hefty dental bill just a few months earlier when he'd caught her off guard and banged her face into a table. 'But it'll be worth it if it keeps Teller off guard and gets Jimmy O'Phelan in custody!' She reassured herself. "Jax may think he's got everything under control, but he's got a big, nasty surprise coming his way as soon as I get Jimmy! He and his precious club are going to do quite a few years in Stockton!"

That idea bouyed Stahl, so that she had a spring in her step as she got ready for work. 'I have to remember to present a somber facade in public. They'll expect me to sad about Tyler!' She practiced several forlorn expressions in the mirror until she felt satisfied that she'd fool her co - workers and supervisors.

She skimmed the paper, shaking her head over the gratuitous write up on Jacob Hale as she drank her coffee. She didn't even bother reading the story about Tyler's death. 'Wait until the reporters find out that she's not the good agent gunned down in the line of duty everyone thinks she is! That will be a story worth reading!'

She tossed the paper aside, pulled out her cell phone, and selected a contact. "This is Stahl," she announced briskly. "I need to arrange a meeting today for two inmates."

Cat 'graciously' allowed Alex to drive the PT as consolation that there would not be any 'Snicker Bar Muffins' at the breakfast.

"I offered, but Gemma wanted to do it all herself," she explained, easing herself into the passenger seat.

"Remind me to say somethin' to Gem about that," Alex grumbled, waiting until his wife buckled the safety harness.

"Y'all really like to live dangerously, don't you, stud?"

"Comes with the cut, baby!" He grinned, laying his hand on her thigh.

"So I notice!" She retorted, glancing down at the hand that began wandering up her thigh and over towards her nether regions. "Didn't y'all get enough this mornin'?"

"Shit! Any other woman would be complainin' that her man wasn't payin' enough attention to her!"

"I'm not any other woman, love!"

"I accept that!" He grinned, sliding his hand higher.

Cat snorted and grabbed his wandering hand in hers. "Y'all need to concentrate on your drivin', love. I'd like to get to breakfast in one piece!"

Alex squeezed her hand, then brought their joined hands up over his chest. "I wouldn't mind skippin' breakfast for another piece, baby!" He leered.

"I don't think I could survive another encounter, love! It's a wonder I'm not walkin' funny!" She retorted.

"You're still limpin', so anyone else is gonna think it's cause of your injuries," Alex grinned slyly as he signaled the turn into the compound. He couldn't wait for her reaction to the Challenger. He'd called the body shop to arrange to have the car delivered to the compound while his wife had showered.

'I'll have one of the prospects bring the garage van after me and drive the PT home, then I can ride the Dyna back,' he decided.

"Wow! Looks like the whole gang's here!" Cat whistled, taking in the full parking lot.

"I hope not!" Alex muttered. "There's one person that doesn't need to be here today!"

"You're referrin' to Ima," Cat noted.

Alex nodded, pulling the PT into a parking space and shutting off the ignition. He turned to look at his wife and added, "Tara's not gonna be happy to find out Ima's hooked up with Kozik."

"Not our problem, love. Tara's gonna have to learn to accept Kozik's choice," Cat observed dryly.

"Damn! That's kinda cold, baby!"

"Perhaps. Ima's smart enough to know her showin' up on Kozik's arm this mornin' wouldn't be a good idea - not right after Tara's ordeal with Salazar."

Alex stared over his sunglasses at her in surprise. "I'm surprised you're on her side!"

"Why?"

"Have ya forgotten how that porn gash and her buddies tormented ya?"

"Oh. That," She shrugged. "Hell, love, just because y'all come across a few bad apples is no reason to get rid of the whole bushel."

"Wanna run that by me again in English?"

Cat shook her head and grinned at him. "I am speakin' English, lover."

"Then why the fuck are ya sidin' with Ima against Tara?"

"I'm not takin' sides, love. It's just that I refuse to hold the bad deeds of one or two against a whole group of people. If I did, I doubt we would've hooked up."

Alex pondered her statement for a moment. "I'm beginnin' to think that you not bein' like 'other' women is a good thing."

She opened her door and retorted, "Knew y'all would catch on eventually!"

Alex grinned and opened his own door. He met her at the rear bumper and grabbed her elbow, just above the cast. "You are gonna pay for that, woman!"

"Gee, I'm so - o - o -o scared!" She laughed, leaning her head against his chest for a moment.

Alex took advantage of the gesture to pull her into his arms and reward her with a hard kiss.

"Shit! Get a room you two!" Kozik growled. "The whole clubhouse is losin' their appetite from watchin' ya on the monitors!"

Alex released her to glare at his friend. Kozik leanedagainst the clubhouse doorway watching them. He held a cup of coffee in his hands and wore a bemused grin on his face.

"Don't give this man any ideas!" Cat retorted. "He might take me away to one of the unused rooms!"

"Fuck that!" Tig growled, still holding his wife close to him. "The hatch of the Cruiser will work fine!"

"Don't even think about it, brother!" Kozik pointed warningly at the SAMCRO SAA. "The rest of us are hungry and tired of waitin' on ya!"

Tig glanced longingly at the door leading to the dorm rooms over the garage. "Damn! I hate havin' to make choices!"

"Then I'll make this one!" Cat replied, limping towards the clubhouse. "I need coffee!"

Tig kept his arm around his wife's waist as he fell into step with her. "Where's your old lady?" He asked Kozik.

"She decided not to come," Kozik replied.

"Don't you start, woman!" Tig growled.

"I wasn't goin' to say a word!" Cat grinned innocently.

"Bullshit!" Tig glared at Kozik, who was still leaning against the doorway to the clubhouse. "Ya make a pretty good door there, brother. If I'm not gonna get one hunger satisfied, get the fuck outta the way so I can satisfy the other!"

"With pleasure!" Kozik grinned, giving Cat a wink before he turned to precede them inside. "Look who's finally decided to join us!"

"About damn time!" Clay growled. "You two are hard to watch on an empty stomach!"

"Nobody held a gun to your head!" Tig retorted. "You could've turned the monitors off!"

"Hell, if he'd done that, we'd never get breakfast!" Juice complained.

"When I say everybody's gettin' fed at the same time, I mean it!" Gemma added, giving the SAA a mock scowl.

While Tig endured Gemma's scolding, Chibs rushed up to Cat and enfolded her in a bear hug, taking her out from under Tig's protective arm. "Lady Cat! Ye look much better than tha' last tyme Ah saw yer!"

Cat returned the hug, ignoring Tig's jealous glare. "I'm feelin' better, brother! But be careful, I'm still a little sore!"

Chibs carefully set her down, his face full of concern. "Did Ah hirt ye?"

"I'm fine, Chibs," she assured him. "I missed y'all, too. How's Fiona and Kerrianne?"

"Foine. Thair stayin' in 'Ashby Alley' where tha club kin watch oot fer 'em."

"I'm glad they're safe."

"Tha' maykes two o'us!"

Tig snorted at them, "Hey! Remember me?"

"Of course I do, love. Surely ya'll aren't jealous!" Cat assured him.

"Don't call me 'Shirley'!" Tig grumbled. "Guess you two have got a little catchin' up to do." He stormed across the clubhouse to the bar where Chuckie was pouring coffee. His stern expression prevented his brothers from teasing him.

"OK! Now that everyone's finally here, let's eat!" Gemma announced.

Tig shrugged innocently and moved towards the table where the food waited. He gazed intently at the array of muffins. "Gem, I've got a bone to pick with ya! There's no Snicker Bar Muffins!"

"It won't kill you not to have a Snicker Bar Muffin for once!" She retorted.

Tig snorted and grabbed a plate. He glared across the clubhouse at his wife and growled, "Get your ass in line, woman! I'm not servin' ya!"

"Don't recall askin' y'all to!" She retorted good naturedly. She stepped into line on the other side of him, offering him a cheeky salute as she made her selections. She took her plate to a table, then limped to the bar to accept a cup of coffee from Chuckie.

Tig piled his plate and moved to a table where Kozik was already sitting. He put his plate down and settled into the chair with a snort.

"Dontcha wanna sit with your woman?" Kozik inquired.

"Nah. She's gonna want to talk with Chibs for a bit," Tig replied, digging into his pile of scrambled eggs.

"You OK with that?"

Tig shrugged, then swallowed and replied. "Yeah. They've been friends a long time. Hell, they've damn near adopted each other!" Tig sipped some coffee and added, "You a'right bein' here without your old lady?"

"Yeah," Kozik sighed. "I appreciate her thinkin' of the big picture. She's catchin' on fast."

They glanced across at Jax and Tara, who were sitting with Gemma and Clay. Gemma had Abel in her arms, looking every inch the protective mama tiger.

"Yeah, I guess so. Time will come that those two are gonna have to come to terms with it," Tig observed.

"Doesn't mean it has to be today," Kozik retorted.

"True dat."

Chibs followed Cat from the serving line, raising an inquiring eyebrow when she chose to sit at an unused table a few feet from Tig and Kozik. "Why dinnae ye go sit wi' Tig? Aire ye still feudin' wi' Kozik?"

"Nah. We're cool. He and Tig buried the hatchet - and not in each other's backs. Kozik has his good qualities," Cat replied.

Chibs gazed thoughtfully at her.

She grinned and added, "But if y'all tell him I said so, I'll deny it!"

"Tha's muir lyke it!" Chibs grinned, sipping his cup of tea. "Noot as gud as yer tay, boot it'll do."

"Besides, Tig knows I wanted to talk to y'all for a wee bit. Seems like it's been ages, darlin'."

"Aye," Chibs agreed, setting his cup down in front of him. "Ye still look a wee bit colorful."

"That's an understatement!"

"Whut wuz tha' verdick on yer eye?"

"I didn't lose sight out of it," she pointed to the tinted insert behind her eyeglasses.

"Ach! Tha glass maid yer light sensitivity wurse Ah gather."

"Much. I'm gettin' new prescription cheaters in a couple of days, then won't need the insert."

"Is it permanent?" He asked worriedly.

"Too soon to tell, darlin'," she shrugged. "Enough about my aches and pains. There's better news!"

"Whut in 'Ell could be better?"

Cat informed him about about the Stockton concession as they ate. "I'm goin' to start the deliveries this comin' Sunday," she added.

Chibs choked on his mouthful of tea. He covered for his momentary lapse by inquiring worriedly, "Ye airn't taykin' on ta much?"

"You're soundin' like Tig!" She sighed. "Relax. My employees are goin' to be doin' the bulk of the bakin'. It's not goin' to be any more work than our regular bakin' day. The only difference is that the Stockton items have to be shrink wrapped," she explained.

Chibs glanced over at Tig, then back at his friend. "Whut does Tig 'ave ta say aboot it?"

"He's worried that I'll overdo, but he's in favor of it. It does mean a little more income for the club."

"Ifn it gits ta be ta much fer ye, we'll send tha prospects oot ta help!" Chibs promised. He then told her of his reunion with Fiona and Kerrianne. "It isnae goin' ta be easy on 'er, 'gettin' ta know me agin after all this tyme!" Chibs mused. "Boot we seemed ta mayke sum progress."

"She's a smart girl, Filip," Cat replied. "She knows it wasn't your fault that you couldn't be with her. She knows her Daddy always loved her."

A light mist brightened Chibs' eyes. "Aye," he croaked.

"I was sorry to hear about Padraic," she added softly. "If it helps, I doubt he felt anything once the blast went off."

"'E wuz a gud bhoy, Cat. Ah wist ye coulda met 'im."

"If it's too -"

Chibs held up a hand to stop her. "It is, but it isnae. Does tha' mayke sense?"

Cat nodded. "It does, but if it gets to be too much, just tell me and we'll change the subject."

"Whot Ah 'ated most wuz 'avin' ta layve 'is boddy in tha' field," Chibs mourned. "Jimmy 'as a loot ta pay fer!"

"I'm sure that SAMBEL will retrieve them and give them the farewell they deserve," Cat assured him.

Their conversation was interrupted by a chorus of cheers. Bobby was holding Abel and Clay put his light blue SAMCRO beanie on Abel's head. It was, Clay stated, a little bit small, indicating how much the child had grown in his absence, but it was still a welcome sight.

When the cheers subsided, Chibs gazed mournfully back at his companion. "Aye, they did. Ahfter we left ta cum 'ome." He shook his head and quickly changed the subject. "So tell me, Lady Cat. 'Ow's me liddle sweet'eart?"

"She's fine, but Misty's been missin' y'all," Cat smiled. "She perked up a bit when I told her you were comin' back soon."

"Ah'll be shure ta cum by an' see 'er tomorrow," Chibs promised. He looked up as Tig approached them.

"Hey, baby, ya haven't eaten much," he observed, clapping a hand on Chibs' shoulder.

"Just takin' my sweet time, love," she assured him.

"Bullshit! I've been watchin' ya flap jaws!" Tig grumbled. "That's why I'm gonna take him away."

Chibs grinned across at Cat. "Sorry, darlin'. Ah'll talk ta ye later." He stood up and followed Tig towards the apartment.

'Now's my chance! I can tell Miss Cat, and she'll be sure to tell Tig about my boxes!' Chuckie scurried over to the seat Chibs had vacated. "Mind if I sit down?" He asked.

"I accept that!" Cat smiled, gesturing for Chuckie to join her.

As soon as they crossed the threshold into the apartment, Tig withdrew the mini cassette player and held it out to Chibs.

"Aire ye plannin' on recordin' us?"

Tig shook his head. "This is for Cat. For afterwards."

Chibs nodded and accepted the silver machine. "Ah wondered 'ow ye wuz gonna break tha' news ta 'er. Ah'm surprised ye dinnae ask Koz. Seems like tha' two o'ye bin bondin'."

"We have some. Workin' together to rescue Tara kinda helped."

"Boot not enough," Chibs replied, referring to the previous night's vote.

"Yeah," Tig hung his head a moment, then shrugged. "Besides, Cat's not completely comfortable with him."

"Aire ye shure, Tigger? She seemed pretty chummy wi' tha' lad oot thar."

"She's gettin' along with him to make me happy, brother," Tig explained, his face turning slightly red by the admission. "She trusts you more than anyone else in the club besides me." He paused before adding a bit uncomfortably, "I'll feel better knowin' she's got you to lean on when she finds out what happened."

Chibs glared at the SAA. "Aire ye sayin' she'll tayke it badly? Cat's not tha' kinda gurrl."

"She's not gonna be happy about it, but she' ain't gonna fall apart and act up about it, either," Tig retorted. There was a note of terse pride in his voice. "She'll wait until she's alone to bawl like a baby. Prolly huddle up with her cats. I - I just don't want her to be alone."

That slight stammer said a lot to Chibs about Tig's true feelings. He understood how the SAA felt about leaving his woman behind. "Ye kin boof count on me, brutha," Chibs assured him. "Ah'll do me best ta keep an eye on 'er while ye're in Stockton."

"That might be a big job, Chibs. You know how stubborn my girl can be!"

"Aye," Chibs sighed. "I saw tha' cair ova tha' monitors. She's a beaut!"

"Cat's gonna call it 'he' and give it a name of some sort," Tig grinned, accepting Chibs' praise for the mechanical work.

"Aye," Chibs grinned. "Wunder whut she'll nayme it?"

"Guess we'll find out soon."

They engaged in the 'bro hug double back tap', then strode out into the common area of the clubhouse. Cat was still in deep conversation with Chuckie, so Chibs joined Tig at Kozik's table.

"Hev ye given usin' tha' 'ardship clause' enny muir thought, Kozik?"

"A bit. Still haven't decided," Kozik replied. "I've got a good reason for wantin' to stay. I can't help feel like usin' the 'hardship clause' is the bitch way of patchin' in."

"Aye. 'Eard aboot tha', und gud luck wi' 'er, ifn she's whut ye want. Ye shuld gie tha idea aboot patchin' in tha' way a lettle muir consideraythun," Chibs advised. "We need ya, mon. The 'ardship clause' isnae dis'onerable. Ifn we didnae need ye, Clay wouldnae 'ave suggested it."

"That's what I've heard all mornin'," Kozik stated. "All I can promise is that I'll think on it."

Chuckie made certain that he kept Cat's attention on him instead of the monitors. "Do you need anything, Miss Cat?"

"No, I'm good, Chuckie. Why don't y'all relax a spell? It looks like you could use the rest!"

"I accept that!" He grinned good naturedly.

"Are y'all enjoyin' your work here?"

He nodded his head. "I'm not just clean up man in the clubhouse. Piney put me to work in the office, getting all the records straight. I really like it. It's steady work, and I have a comfy place to sleep."

"Better than the room at our house?"

He shook his head. "Not quite, even though I never got to use it. I've got a mattress in the storage room."

"What?" Cat glared across the room at Piney. The founding member looked back at her with an innocent expression, then saluted her with his glass of tequila. "Why not one of the dorm rooms over the garage?"

Chuckie held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Now don't go getting hissed off, Miss Cat! It was my idea."

"For cryin' out loud! Why?"

"Security. If I sleep here, I can keep an ear out for trouble. And now I have a cell phone in case the landline goes out," Chuckie assured her.

Cat shook her head. "But y'all deserve more than a mattress on the floor!"

"I really don't mind, Miss Cat. I've slept on less."

She sighed and rubbed her head with her hand. "I guess I have no choice but to accept that."

'One good thing about being in charge, you don't have to tell someone where you're going!' Windover mused. He drove his own car to 'Hannah's Place' insteadof one of the news vehicles. For a meeting like the one he'd set up with Agent Carey, the news vehicles would stand out like a sore thumb. He parked behind the restaurant, out of sight of the restaurant windows and the highway. He was still able to see the only entrance to the parking lot. He was fifteen minutes early for the appointment.

He reached down to retrieve the 'to go' cup from the cup holder beside him. He sipped at the brew, wincing at the bitter taste. He wished he'd stopped at 'Charming Pawse' instead of 'Latte Da' for coffee. He'd gone to the other coffeehouse because they didn't know him there. He didn't want his presence in town getting out to the wrong people.

He sipped the coffee and thought about the letter he'd received. 'If it's true, the ATF has a major rouge on their hands. It's one thing to enforce the law, it's another to manipulate people and events for personal gain!'

He recalled being put off by Stahl's self satisfied smirk when the ATF announced the arrest of Jimmy O'Phelan's second in command, Lucas, a few days ago. One of his other reporters covered the press conference, but he'd previewed the story before it aired. He remembered thinking at the time that something didn't seem on the up and up about Stahl's apprehension of the Irish thug. 'I couldn't put my finger on it. She just acted like the cat that had eaten the canary and enjoyed every minute of it. Now I know that Lucas was handed to her on a silver platter in an under the table deal!'

He caught sight of a government issue Crown Victora rolling slowly towards his car. He remained seated, content to allow Agent Carey to make the first move. The Crown Vic pulled up beside Windover's car, which had backed into its parking space. Windover rolled down his window at the same time Carey down rolled his. The Crown Vic was parked nose in so that the drivers were face to face with just a few feet separating them.

"You're Windover, I presume," Carey stated bluntly.

"And you're Agent Carey."

"So much for the introductions. You said you have some intel on the death of Agent Tyler. What makes you think it was a murder?"

Windover passed the opened envelope across to Carey. "This," he replied.

Carey stared at the envelope, then reached out to take it from the assignment editor. "You've obviously read this."

"It was addressed to me, why wouldn't I read it?" Windover countered.

"Don't be a smart ass!" Carey growled. He scanned the letter, eyes widening in surprise when he read the signature. "I understand why you refer to her death as a murder."

"I trust your IT or CSI's can get into her computer?" Windover asked.

"If Stahl hasn't thought to have it wiped or destroyed." Carey admitted. "Do I have to get a court order to keep you from running the story?"

"That depends on you," Windover stated. "I'm the only person in the newsroom aware of this."

"But you made a copy of this letter and have it under lock and key," Carey noted grimly.

Windover flushed. "How'd you know?"

"You're a news reporter. One of the better ones from what I've seen," Carey replied. "Any reporter worth his salt would've made a copy. So what are your terms?"

"That you give Channel 2 first crack at the story when you have the evidence you need," Windover offered without pause. "And that we can be there to film the arrest."

Carey thought carefully over the assignment editor's offer. 'If I don't agree, there's nothing to keep him from going on air with what he has. It'll take awhile to get a court order to prevent the broadcast and he knows it. I've had to agree to worse.' He gazed across the small space between them and nodded, extending his hand out his car window.

Windover clasped the agent's outstretched hand and shook on the deal. When the agent drew his hand back into the car, he had the assignment editor's business card in his palm. "I'll be in touch," Carey stated, starting the car and backing out of the parking space.

Windover didn't start his car right away. He chose to wait to leave a few minutes to allow the agent to make a clean get away.

He knew he'd done the right thing. It was the exact opposite of how his predecessor would've handled the situation. 'I suspect Carey will find the letter useful; something about his lack of reaction tells me so.'

Tig frowned when he saw Cat lean her head wearily into her hand. 'I'll wring Chuckie's neck if he's tired her out!' Before he could get up to go to her, Lyla and Opie announced their engagement. The news was met with a chorus of toasts and congratulations.

'Damn! Another man bitten by the matrimonial bug!' He grinned to himself, watching the security monitors out of the corner of his eye. The workmen had removed the refurbished Challenger from the flatbed. It sat in the middle of the compound, but no one was paying any attention to it. That included his wife, who gingerly stood and limped over to congratulate the happy couple.

'Guess she's OK after all. The sooner I get her outta here, the better off she's gonna be! This could tire her out too soon and then she won't be up to showin' any gratitude for the car!'

Chuckie had been prepared to tell Cat about the contents in the boxes stacked in the office when Lyla and Opie shared their good news. Cat hastily excused herself to give the pair her best wishes, leaving Chuckie high and dry and a little disappointed. 'I accept that Opie and Lyla are engaged. I just wish someone would take the time to listen to me! All I want to do is help the club in exchange for helping me!'

He watched Cat limp across to the couple to shake hands with Opie and give Lyla a hug. Instead of returning to the seat she'd vacated, she wandered over to join Chief Unser. Chuckie sighed in resignation and went to the kitchen to check the coffee urn.

"Do y'all need any help packin' up your office, Wayne?" Cat inquired as she lowered herself into the chair across from him.

"No, all my personal stuff was packed last night by my officers. Stahl's still got an office in the building, but after 5pm, CPD will cease to exist," he replied solemnly.

"I'm sorry," she observed wryly.

"Don't be. I hear you and and Oswald tried your damndest."

"I wish to Hell there was still some way to stop this," Cat growled. "But like Coach Knight said decades ago, when it's inevitable, just lay back and endure it."

Unser's eyes twinkled at her. "I don't think that's exactly what he said!"

"So I paraphrased a little!" She grinned.

He swept a professional eye over her features. "You're looking better, been getting enough rest?"

"Slept a lot yesterday; Tig's been like a watchdog in keepin' me chained to the bed," she chortled.

Unser nearly spewed coffee on himself. "So many jokes, so little time," he choked.

"True." She looked up as Clay sauntered over, laying a hand on the Chief's shoulder. "Mornin', Clay. Welcome home."

"Thanks, Cat. I heard ya really stepped up to the plate to help spring Tara from Salazar." Clay rumbled.

"So did a couple of the other 'old ladies'," she pointed out.

"It's good to know our women have our backs," he agreed.

"We have do our uses," Cat stated.

Tig wandered over to stand next to his best friend. "It's here. I'm about to take her out to see it," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Clay nodded and grinned knowingly. "Go for it, brother."

Cat glanced up at her husband. "Somethin' tells me y'all are up to somethin'!"

"You'll find out in a few minutes. C'mon, woman!" Tig took her hand and pulled her gently from the chair, holding her steady until her sore legs accepted her weight.

"Where on earth are we goin'?" Cat protested.

"Just outside. Got somethin' to show ya." Tig replied, placing his hand in front of her eyes.

She reached up to move his hand, only to hear him growl menacingly at her to put her hand down. "All right!" She sighed ungraciously. "Have it your way!"

"I intend to!" Tig retorted. He moved behind her and kept his hand over her eyes. "No peekin'!"

"How can I see anything through that gigantic paw in my face?" She grumbled. "Lead on, McDuff!"

Tig guided her through the common area and out the door, expertly piloting her around the chairs and tables. Chibs and Kozik followed behind them, but stood in the doorway to prevent the other denizens of the clubhouse from leaving. "Give 'em a minute of privacy," Kozik stated.

"It's gonna take Tig more than a minute!" Piney muttered to the delight of the others.

Tig heard Piney's comment and grinned wickedly. "Put your sun cheaters on, baby." He instructed.

Cat reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the wraparounds, placing them over her eyeglasses. "Now what?"

Tig positioned her just right so that the gleaming Challenger would be the first thing she'd see when he removed his hand. "Are ya ready, baby?"

"Love, I was born ready!" She snorted.

"OK, look!" Tig dropped his hand and took a step back.

Cat couldn't believe her eyes. Sitting directly in front of her on four brand new black tires was a dark purple dream. She was so surprised she couldn't speak.

"I think Hell done froze over," Kozik drawled from the doorway.

"Aye," Chibs agreed. "Ah've nevah seen Lady Cat left speechless like tha'!"

The sun shone on the dark purple paint and glinted off the rust free chrome. The car looked bad ass just standing still.

"It's all yours, baby," Tig stated softly, placing the keys in her hand. "Wanna check it out?"

"I sure do!" She whispered.

"Open the trunk first," he instructed. "There's somethin' ya gotta see."

Cat walked slowly towards the vintage car, admiring the handiwork. She knew a lot of work had to have gone into it, and not just in the paint and body work. She inserted the key into the trunk and turned it, hearing the satisfying sound of the catch releasing. The lid opened with just a touch to reveal a clean, carpet covered interior.

Tig moved to stand next to her, watching her appreciation of his gift. He pointed to a carpet covered hump between the tail lights. "Pull on that, baby."

"I hope the car doesn't fart," she muttered, gingerly lifting the carpet.

Instead of a loud, obnoxious sound, she found a secret compartment built into the trunk, reminiscent of her 'rum running' college days. She gazed inquiringly up at her husband. "It's wonderful, but why the secret hidey hole? I've not bootlegged alcohol in decades!"

Tig chuckled while Chibs choked on his cigarette. "Ya never know when somethin' like that might come in handy, baby!" He closed the compartment for her, then the trunk and escorted her to the driver's seat.

Chibs and Kozik moved out of the doorway to allow the rest of the group to see Cat's new toy and watch her start it. A chorus of "Oooo's' and "Ahh's" showed their own appreciation of the Challenger.

Tig's shoulders straightened with pride as he listened to the appreciative murmurs. 'Wait until they hear the thing roar!'

Cat slid behind the wheel, breathing in the 'new car' scent. The interior was all black, another reminder of her original college car. The dash shone from detailing and polish. Supple black leather covered the seats, and black carpeting was on the floor, covered by clear floor mats.

The instrument panel was uncluttered. One round panel showed temperature, fuel, and the car's speed. Another round panel contained the tachometer and odometer. The center panel between the driver and passenger housed the stereo system, which consisted of CD, cassette player, and AM/FM radio. The radio antenna electronically raised and lowered from the front fender, so it couldn't be broken off while parked. The car had automatic transmission with a panther's head knob on the floor shifter. There were twin bucket seats in the front and a long bench seat in the back.

Cat snorted in disdain at the sight of the shoulder and lap safety harnesses.

"Snort all ya want, baby. That thing won't start unless you're wearin' it the right way!" Alex smirked.

Cat stared at him over her eyeglasses. "Are y'all serious?"

"As a heart attack, baby. If you're gonna drive this monster, you're gonna be wearin' that harness. Ya can't cheat this like you do the PT!"

Never willing to back down from a dare, Cat slipped out of the car and snapped the safety harness latch into place. Then she slid behind the wheel and stuck the key in the ignition. The key turned, but the engine didn't engage.

"You - you - you male!" Cat stuttered angrily. "That is not fair!"

Tig shrugged, much to the amusement of their audience. "Ya keep tellin' me all's fair in love and war, baby!"

"I wasn't aware we were at war! This just isn't right, if y'all ask me!" She hissed.

"I didn't ask ya," he retorted. "But it is right if it keeps ya safe! So sue me!"

"I'll call my lawyer in the mornin'," she growled, climbing out of the cockpit to unlatch the harness. She sat down in the driver's seat and latched the harness around her chest and lap.

"Y'all do realize that I'm not goin' to rest until I find a workaround!" She advised him.

'I'm countin' on it!' He grinned and leaned on the open driver's window. He reached out a hand to stroke her hair. "Just start 'im up, baby."

Cat turned the key and was rewarded with the engine firing on the first try. She applied a slight amount of pressure to the accelerator pedal, allowing 440 cubic inches of Hemi horsepower to roar in defiance.

"Wow!" Juice cried. "That is one badass engine!"

Cat shut down the engine and climbed out of the car. She was over her momentary snit at Alex's overprotective tinkering with her new toy. She also didn't care that the entire club would witness her public display of affection as she threw her arms around his waist. "Thank you, love! I've already come up with a name for him!"

Alex grinned slyly. "Ya gonna call it 'The Purple Flurp'?"

"Hell no!" She smiled, gazing up at him with an expression of warm frustration. "'The Rum Runner II."

Alex felt a wave of pleasure rush through him. It wasn't just her obvious delight in his gift, but the compliment she'd given his work. He knew how much the original 'Rum Runner' had meant to her and considered her naming the Dodge after it the ultimate compliment.

Chibs had a moment of deja vu as soon as he heard Cat utter the car's name. He recalled the weird dream he'd had while recovering from his head injury. He stroked his chin in thought. 'Tha' draym jist myte 'ave a ring o' truf ta it afhter all! It'll cum in handy in tha' next few months.'

Agent Tyler's parents hadn't slept very well after learning of their daughter's death. A representative of the ATF had come to their door, accompanied by their minister. Wade Tyler immediately knew they were delivering the worst possible news about their daughter.

It didn't matter to him and his wife that their daughter had died in the line of duty. She was their only child and had come along when they'd given up trying to build a family. They'd been proud of all of her accomplishments. Nor did it matter to them that she came out of the closet while she was in college.

"All we want for you is to be happy. If another woman's love is what it takes, then you have our support," Wade had informed his defiant daughter.

Tyler had melted into his welcoming arms, sobbing in gratitude over her parents' acceptance. The last time she'd called, she'd mentioned that she was in a relationship and seemed happy. Now he'd never get to talk to her again.

He sat at the kitchen table, cradling an untouched cup of coffee in his hands. He'd been on the phone with the local funeral home his family had used for generations, making arrangements for his daughter's funeral.

"I'll make the arrangements with the San Joaquin County Coroner's office," the funeral director assured him. "It might be awhile before they release her, though."

"Why?" Wade inquired angrily.

"She was killed in the line of duty. There's going to be an investigation," the funeral director explained gently.

"Oh."

"You need to be prepared for the possibility that the law enforcement community will want to be involved in the service," the funeral director added.

"Can't they do their own thing and let us have our own service? She is -" his voice hitched over the present tense word. "She was our daughter!"

"I'll see what I can do," the funeral director replied. "You two feel free to come in anytime convenient to you and we'll work out the service."

His wife found him in the kitchen when she stumbled in, yawning and blinking sleepily. She'd been so distraught by the news of their child's death that he'd given her a sedative so she'd sleep. "I was hoping you'd sleep awhile longer, honey," he stated softly.

"I don't know if I'll ever sleep soundly again. There's a hole in my heart the size the Grand Canyon," she replied, pouring a cup of coffee and settling into her usual chair next to him.

Both of them avoided looking at their daughter's seat. Though she'd moved out of the house long ago, they still considered it 'her' chair. She always sat there for meals whenever she came home for visits. Now it just served as a grim reminder that she'd never sit with them again.

"I've started the arrangements," he informed her.

"I figured you would."

They sat in silence, then she added, "How long will it take for A - her body - to be released?"

"The coroner indicated they're conducting a murder investigation, it might take a little time for them to let her go."

"I hope they don't intend to drag it out!" She snapped irritably. "We have rights, too!"

"I know," he replied soothingly, placing his hand over hers. "The funeral director is going to do everything he can to assist us. He said that law enforcement is going to want to participate."

"Haven't they done enough?" She spat angrily.

"Honey, you're upset. This isn't like you."

The telephone rang, causing her to jerk her hand out of his as if she'd been stung by a bee. She sprang from her chair, which clattered to the floor behind her. "Don't be so sure about that! They've taken my only child from me, and now they're wanting to be a part of our private grief! You deal with those fuckers, because I'm not in the mood!" She raced sobbing down the hall to their daughter's former bedroom and slammed the door after her.

Wade glared at the telephone, then stood up and walked down the hall after his wife. The answering machine could field the calls for awhile. His wife needed him, and he needed to be there for her.

Jimmy O'Phelan managed to get a few moments alone with Donnie before Putlova and his own lieutenant joined them for breakfast. "Try ta git tha' rest o' aire businesses liquidated as soon as ye kin an' git back 'ere. Ifn possible, Ah wanna git outta 'ere tonight."

"Aye," Donnie muttered. "Tha sooner we're outta 'ere, tha' easier we'll both rest!"

Neither man felt it necessary to verbally acknowledge their mutual distrust in their host. They'd not slept well the previous night. They'd taken shifts to watch the other's back in case Putlova or one of his henchmen tried to pull a double cross.

Putlova and his lieutenant entered the kitchen, both dressed in what constituted casual attire for them. "I'm sending my second with yours today, Jimmy."

"Tha's noot necessary," Jimmy replied.

"Aye," Donnie added. "Ah kin git muir done on me own."

"But I insist," Putlova smiled coldly. His voice held a no nonsense tone that dared Jimmy or Donnie to disagree with him. "The Irish have put a death warrant out on both of you."

Jimmy and Donnie exchanged uncertain glances. They knew the Irish Kings would seek retribution for Kellan Ashby's death; they'd not anticipated the red mafia would work so fast! Nor had they anticipated that Donnie would be included on their hit list. Apparently torturing one of Father Ashby's bodyguards was an unforgivable sin to the Irish Kings.

Putlova broke into a smile that didn't reach his eyes, which remained ice cold. "Don't worry, Jimmy! We have an agreement that the Irish Kings haven't beat. Yet."

Putlova's lieutenant wasn't smiling at either of the Irishmen. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, watching both men with an icy stare. He gave the impression of a coiled cobra waiting for the wrong move in order to attack.

Donnie nodded at Jimmy and stood up. "Then we'd best git ta it so we kin git back."

"Keep in tech wi' me," Jimmy advised.

"Aye."

Donnie and Putlova's lieutenant exited the room, headed for the waiting car. Putlova settled into the seat Donnie had vacated with a sigh of satisfaction.

"It's a glorious morning, Jimmy! The sun is out, the birds are singing. It's great to be alive!"

"Aye," Jimmy replied unenthusiastically.

Putlova laughed and smacked Jimmy on the shoulder. "Don't worry, my friend. The new credentials for you and Donny are being prepared as we speak! You'll be out of the States in a matter of days."

"I'd be happier if that could be in a matter of hours," Jimmy stated frankly.

"I'll see what I can do."

Agent Stahl kept her head up and her eyes straight ahead of her as she strode through the ATF headquarters. Her forbidding frown prevented most of the other agents from offering condolences on Tyler's death.

The agents had been discussing the news that Stahl and Tyler had been involved in a personal relationship. The minute Stahl appeared in the doorway, the agents scurried to their desks, becoming hastily occupied with entering their reports from the previous day's hostage situation.

Stahl rolled her eyes and continued on to her desk, deliberately ignoring the empty one Tyler had occupied. She knew her co - workers had been gossiping about her relationship with Tyler. 'Not that I give a damn about their opinions, anyway!'

No one glanced at Stahl or at Tyler's empty desk. The tension in the bullpen was so dense it could've been cut with a paper knife. With the exception of clicking keys and an occasional ringing telephone, the bull pen was too quiet for Stahl's liking. She was used to the background noise of an active office. She would've welcomed the distraction a busy office provided. The empty desk across from her didn't help matters.

She tossed her briefcase on her desk and stormed out to the break room for a cup of coffee. The coffee pot was cold and empty.

"Great!" She snorted, filling the basket and pouring water into the reservoir.

"Sorry," Agent Mendes muttered from the door way. "I cleaned out the pot earlier and forgot to make more."

Stahl pointed to the sign above the coffee station. "You were supposed to make a new pot!" She snarled, storming back to her desk.

Mendes gazed compassionately at her retreating back. Stahl wasn't the type to throw a tantrum about an empty coffee pot. Mess ups on the job were more likely to earn her ire. 'She really shouldn't be here today; not after losing her partner. She probably couldn't handle being alone if they were living together.'

The aroma of fresh brewed coffee alerted him the brew cycle was complete. He poured coffee into two cups, and took one to Stahl.

She looked up as Mendes stopped beside her desk and placed the coffee cup in front of her. "Sorry for snapping at you," she stated softly.

"It's OK. Yesterday was rough on you," he replied.

"Yeah. It was difficult for all of us. Has Tyler's family been notified?"

Mendes shook his head. "I don't know. Want me to find out?"

"Please," Stahl nodded. "If no one's informed them, I'll do it. I just don't want to rub their faces in it if they've been told."

"I'm on it," Mendes assured her. The phone on her desk rang as he departed.

"This is Stahl." She listened for a moment, then nodded and replied, "Very good." She replaced the receiver and sat back, taking a drink from her coffee cup. The meeting between Otto Delaney and Lenny the Pimp had been set up. Everything was in motion to close in on Jimmy O'Phelan and put a major hole in the NorCal gun operation.

'It'd be nice if I could pin something on Victor Putlova,' she observed. 'That would really boost my career!' She shook her head and picked up a report to review. Fanciful dreams were fine to indulge in, but only hard work would make them come true. She needed to pin down Jimmy O'Phelan first, then she could cast her line for a bigger fish like Putlova.

Jonas Carey was blown away by the contents of Agent Tyler's letter. 'It's as if she's reaching out from beyond to point me in the right direction! But why would she reach out to a reporter?'

The minute the question entered his head, he knew the answer and pull off the road before he ran into another vehicle. Tyler had reached out to a member of the media because she didn't trust anybody in the agency.

'I've seen it happen before. A subordinate witnesses their partner, usually someone with more experience, doing something that's not on the up and up. The agent doesn't know what to do or who to go to. They're afraid of being disbelieved if they point a finger at a superior officer, so they stay silent.'

He picked up his cell phone and dialed the IT unit. "This is Carey from IAD. Can one of you internet gurus obtain something from an email for me without access to the account holders computer?"

"Agent Carey, there's nothing my people can't do with computers and the internet. What do you need?"

Carey explained what he wanted from Tyler's personal email account. "I'd get a search warrant for Tyler's computer, but there's a complication that might tip the wrong person off."

"Say no more. It's not going to be easy, but we can retrieve it. It'll take some time, though."

"The sooner the better. For my eyes only."

Once he had Tyler's copy of the original duty roster for the Hayes stake out in Galt, he'd have enough evidence against Stahl to take to his superiors. Tyler's letter would also help prove that Stahl had gone bad, and probably been going bad for a long time.

'What made you take the wrong turn, Stahl?' Carey thought to himself. 'Money? Prestige? Are you working for someone? Or are you just out for your own gains?'

Carey realized he still had a lot of work to do. He picked up the phone again and dialed the IT department.

"We don't have the intel you wanted yet, Carey," the department head remarked. "We just started working on it!"

"I've got another job for you. I need you to look for any recent transactions Agent Stahl might've made on a personal basis."

"What about anything work related?"

"No," Carey stated emphatically. "Just any personal money transactions, withdrawals and deposits, no matter how large or small."

"While you've got us working on the impossible, do you want us to turn some water into wine?" The department head smirked.

"I prefer beer," Carey replied, deadpan. He planned to search all the files and reports on the cases Stahl's team had worked since she'd been assigned to the San Joaquin headquarters. It was going to take a lot of time for him to sift through all that material, but he now had Tyler's letter to guide him.

The breakfast accomplished all that Gemma had hoped in reminding the club of all the good they had going for them. Abel was back, Lyla and Opie were engaged, and Tig's present to his woman had been well received. She felt quite satisfied with herself while she walked around the clubhouse, picking up discarded plates and cups.

The other three 'old ladies' had offered to help. Gemma allowed Lyla and Tara to do so, and put them to work covering left over pans with foil and putting them away in the refrigerator. She declined Cat's offer, much to Tig's relief. "You need to go play with that new toy," Gemma advised her.

"But I want to do my part!" Cat protested.

"From what I've heard, you've done more than your part. Now scat!" Gemma nudged her towards the impatiently waiting SAA. "I'm still the queen around here!"

"Yes, your majesty!" Cat smirked, limping hastily out the door before Gemma could throw something at her.

Chuckie had already departed for the garage office. The Croweaters had left for their jobs while the men had gone into the garage to start the day's work.

Tig shrugged his shoulders at the interplay between his wife and Gemma before following her outside. He paused beside Phil to issue some terse instructions to the prospect. "Wait about 45 minutes after we leave, then swing by the house to pick me up. I'm gonna follow the Challenger with the PT."

"Why the long wait? Why don't I just follow ya now?"

Tig favored the prospect with 'The Look'.

Phil flushed and nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat like a piston. "OK. Got ya. Forty five minutes."

Tig nodded and sauntered on out of the clubhouse. He found Cat standing next to the Challenger talking to Kozik. They were both examining the bright, shiny engine.

"I can't believe that Tig did all this work on his own in such a short time!" Cat stated. "A complete overhaul like this would've taken my high school auto shop class an entire semester!"

"That's because ya only got to work on it an hour at a time," Kozik replied. "Tig worked on it between every job. He really kept the parts washer full!"

"I can tell!" Cat ran a reverent hand over the gleaming chrome valve covers. "He did a fantastic job! This baby is almost too purty to drive!"

"You'd better change your tune on that real quick, woman!" Tig snarled, leaning against the front of the car and glaring at her. "I didn't put all that work in this heap to have it sit around and get towed to car shows!"

Cat favored her husband with a glare of her own. "Better not be callin' the 'Rum Runner II' a 'heap' if y'all know what's good for you! I thoroughly intend to put this bad boy through its' paces and see what he's made of!"

"Metal, naturally. None of that fiberglass shit," Tig replied. He was totally unphased by her cautionary advice. "I rebuilt the damn thing, so I can call it any fuckin' thing I wanna call it!"

"Y'all best keep a civil tongue in that head of yours and be respectful to my cars, buster!" She informed him.

"What if I don't?"

"That's for me to know and y'all to find out later," she grinned.

"Oh, Hell! If you two are gonna start that shit again, I'm gettin' outta here!"

"What's the matter, Koz?" Tig grinned evilly.

"It's kinda hard for a guy to watch you guys pawin' your women when mine can't be here!" Kozik snapped. "I feel like odd man out!"

"You're catchin' on!"

"OK you two clowns, can it!" Cat ordered, stepping in between the pair. "Kozik's right, love. We really shouldn't be rubbin' salt in his wounds."

"Then he can make like a tree and leave!" Tig growled, slipping an arm around her shoulders.

Cat shrugged out from under Tig's arm and turned her back on him. "I'm sorry, Kozik. I know it's not been much fun for y'all not to have Ima with you. That day should come soon."

"I hope so. She just felt it wouldn't go over well with Tara for her to be here this mornin'."

"She's got a good head on her shoulders," Cat stated approvingly. "Trust me, Tara will eventually grow up enough to accept the fact that Ima is your choice and no threat to her."

"I hope you're right, kitten. Catch ya later."

Kozik turned and sauntered away from them. He entered the garage, shrugging out of his cut and donning a work shirt to start on the day's repairs.

"Ready to go, baby?"

"I'm ready to give this beast a try out on the highway!" She replied.

Tig sighed inwardly. He'd been prepared for that. "I knew ya would; just for a few minutes, though. I don't want ya overdoin' it first time out."

Cat had expected him to advise against the idea. She wrinkled her nose at his easy capitulation. "Y'all agreed pretty quick to that. Do y'all have a county mountie waitin' to catch me somewhere?"

Alex broke out in a wide innocent grin. "Who, me?"

Cat glared at him for a moment, then shrugged and slid behind the wheel of the Challenger. "Guess not, since your feet don't fit a branch and y'all don't shit through feathers despite that hootin' noise."

She started the engine and called out a laughing challenge at him through the open window. "I'd offer to race y'all out of town, but the PT's engine isn't designed for it. See y'all when I see ya!"

She put the Dodge in gear and performed a perfect 'donut' in the parking lot. White smoke billowed from the back tires, enveloping Alex in a cloud of burning rubber. She pointed the front end towards the street, hit the gas, and flew out of the compound.

Alex coughed and waved his arms to clear the air. "Damn show off!" He raced to the parked Cruiser. "And you're gonna see me a Hell of a lot sooner than ya expect, woman!" He muttered while backing the PT from it's parking spot and rushing out onto the street after her.

Alex expected that he'd have to track her down. To his surprise, the Challenger was idling just a half block from the compound entrance, waiting for him.

As soon as Cat saw the PT turn out of the compound, she pulled back onto the street and led the Cruiser towards the edge of town, following all the posted speed limits.

"Good Lord!" Unser whistled, staring across the parking lot at the massive Dodge. "Has Tig lost his mind?"

"That's still bein' debated, Chief," Clay grinned, leaning against the wall and watching the entire scene play out.

Unser shook his head. "That just seems like a lot of horsepower for a woman like Cat to handle!"

"She does well with that rice burner of hers," Clay reminded the cop.

"That's when she's at 100%. She's still pretty banged up!" Unser fretted.

"Relax. Tig won't let her get herself hurt," Clay assured him. "C'mon, I'll buy ya a cup of coffee. I need to talk to you."

Unser shook his head again and followed Clay back inside the clubhouse. Clay motioned for the police chief to follow him into the chapel, where they could talk in private.

"What's up?" Unser inquired, closing the door behind him and sitting in Jax's chair at Clay's unspoken invitation.

"Our bail revocation hearing is comin' up tomorrow, but it's likely we won't be there," Clay announced. Unser drew a deep breath to protest, but Clay raised a hand to prevent it. "Lemme finish. We won't be there because we'll prolly be in Stockton by sundown."

Unser let the indrawn breath out like a fighter who'd just taken a sucker punch in the gut. "I suppose you intend to fill me in?"

Clay outlined the details of Jax's plan to Unser, including how the club would get justice for Donna and Opie. "We've known for some time that Stahl was the cause behind Donna's accidental killing," he added.

"Why are you telling me this? I'm still a cop!"

"Because I figured you'd want to be in on it," Clay replied stoically. "As you know, Stahl whisked Opie and his family into protective custody for a few days."

"Yeah. So?"

"Stahl went on to set Opie up as a rat, paid off outstanding debts and planted bugs in his truck and cell phone, knowing we'd find 'em and take him out."

Unser's eyes widened with horrified comprehension. "Opie was supposed to be driving the truck instead of Donna that night."

"Yeah," Clay acknowledged. His face reflected the deep pain he still felt for that major error. "Stahl's hurt a lot of people. She got revenge on Otto by shuttin' down Caracara. Look what she's done to Gemma! And the number of bodies! Half - Sack, Edmond Hayes, Donna, maybe even her partner. She's like a rabid dog."

Unser sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands. "You're seriously going to kill her, aren't you? And you're asking me to take part in it!"

"You'd shoot a rabid dog to keep it from hurting innocent civilians, wouldn't you?" Clay inquired coldly. "Just because the bitch runs on two feet instead of four doesn't make her any less of a hazard."

Unser couldn't come up with an argument to that. Stahl's broadcast lie that Gemma had killed Edmond Hayes had led to Able's kidnapping and Half - Sack's murder. 'Add what happened to Donna and what was supposed to have happened to Opie, plus all the other havoc she's caused since she came here, and Clay's idea doesn't seem so far fetched.'

"I know this isn't easy for you, Wayne," Clay stated. "You've had to walk a fine line for decades and taken a lot of shit from me. The only people who will ever know ya had a part in this will be the club - and we won't tell!"

"Unless I do something to piss you off," Unser replied wryly. "Then you could do a lot to harm me."

"What good would it do for the word to get out after today?" Clay stated. "CPD won't exist, and you'll be a retired cop."

"A retired cop who could do you a lot of harm if you ever rat me out," Unser reminded him.

"That's true," Clay admitted. "We need your help to make this happen. But don't answer right now. Give it some thought - at least until I get back from Stockton."

"Gee! You're all heart!" Unser grimaced. "Why are ya goin' to Stockton?"

"To meet with Otto. We need to get some intel from Lenny the Pimp."

"Good luck with that." Unser sniffed.

"It's already bein' arranged." Clay grinned.

"Why am I not surprised?" Unser sighed. "OK. Call me when you get back. I'll have an answer for you then."

The two stood up and shook hands, then Unser shuffled towards the door. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, as if he wanted to say something else, then he opened the door and stepped out of the chapel, closing the door behind him.

Jax planned to take Tara and the boys back home, then take his Dyna to the meeting with Stahl. All the coffee and food had finally worked it's way through his system, so he made a pit stop in the apartment's bathroom.

Though the ATF file was still in his inner cut pocket, Jax tossed his cut on the bed as he headed for the bathroom. He wasn't concerned about anyone finding it. The entire club was behind him and had been from the start. None of the club would have reason to mess with his cut, anyway.

Gemma entered the apartment, holding a half filled garbage bag in one hand. The apartment wasn't as bad off as she'd feared, only a few cups and plates had been left there. She noticed her son's cut lying haphazardly on the bed amongst some discarded plates and moved it aside to get to the plates. To her surprise, an ATF file folder stared up at her from the inside of Jax's cut.

She picked up the folder and leafed through it. Pictures of some of the Irish Kings stared back at her. Though she didn't know their names, but she knew the faces meant trouble. 'I've got a real bad feeling about this!'

The warm feeling turned to ice as she skimmed through the pages. 'This deal is bad on so many levels, I don't even know where to start! It won't take long for Clay and the club to find out about this! Stahl can't be counted on not to tell! She'd enjoy it too much.'

Gemma knew all about the fight Stahl had helped instigate against her husband and son while they were at the SJCCF. Clay had been more bothered about it than he'd realized and had talked in his sleep about it. Gemma had listened avidly to his mutterings, aghast that the relationship between the men had deteriorated.

'Gettin' gang raped was not my first choice to smooth things over between them, but it certainly did the job!' She mused ruefully.

The toilet flushed as Clay's voice called for her and his heavy boot steps approached down the apartment. Gemma hastily returned the folder to the inner pocket of Jax's cut, arranging the vest so that the folder was covered. She was industriously scooping up discarded plates and cups into the garbage bag when Clay walked into the apartment.

Jax chose that moment to step out of the bathroom, warning his mother not to go inside. He acknowledged his meeting with the Wahewa to Clay as he shrugged into his cut and kissed his mother goodbye.

Gemma gazed worriedly after him and started to follow. She wanted to ask him point blank about the folder and the deal he'd obviously made with Stahl. Before she had a chance to go after Jax, Clay intercepted her to talk to her.

He gently forced her to sit on the foot of the bed and sat next to her. He was silent for a moment, then shared the new gun deal he'd made with the Irish and why it was a good move for them as well as the club. He explained that it was also part of the price the club had to pay to get Abel back.

Gemma listened intently, though part of her mind was on her son's well being. 'Maybe it's not such a bad idea for Jax to rat the Irish out to Stahl! It shouldn't surprise me they wouldn't help us get our grandchild back without putting a price on it!'

The mention of the club's bond revocation hearing reminded her that she was facing serious jail time for killing Polly Zobelle and fleeing the country.

Clay didn't look too happy about the idea of his wife having to serve time. 'She's had her share of scrapes with the law, but she's never had to do more than a day or two in the local lock up. SJCCF is gonna be a different ball game for her! Not that I have any doubts about her ability to take care of herself in there!'

Gemma didn't relish the idea of doing time any more than her husband. She'd miss out on so much of Abel's growth. First words, first steps, birthdays. 'I don't know how much time Stahl will try to tack on my sentence, but I can count on her trying to throw the book at me.'

Clay sensed his wife's distress and tried to assure her that things would work out. 'I wish I could tell you everything, baby. You'll know everything when the time comes. Now just isn't the time.' He managed to get her to promise not to do anything rash the rest of the day. He needed to be able to concentrate on the task at hand, and wouldn't be able to do that if he had to worry that Gem might stir up a hornet's nest that could bring everything the club was working for down like a house of cards.

Cat was in automotive Heaven. The Challenger performed like a dream. The Hemi engine roared with power, gaining quite a few startled and admiring looks from Charming's residents as she passed them.

Alex followed right behind her, keeping a wary eye on the Challenger. He knew her well enough that he anticipated she'd throw caution to the wind as soon as they were on open highway. He had the two - way handy, right in the center console where he could easily grab it.

The Dodge roared as it passed the town line. "Dammit! I knew it!" Alex grumbled as the Challenger began to pull away. Within seconds, it was a tiny purple dot ahead of him.

Cat watched the speedometer edge to 80 MPH as the car seemed to glide along the asphalt. She glanced in the rear view mirror, smiling in delight at the small toy - like appearance of the Cruiser. "Alex is probably havin' kittens at the moment!" She chortled.

Being left in Cat's figurative dust, Alex pushed the Cruiser as hard as he dared to keep the Challenger in sight. He knew better than to try to match the Challenger's speed. 'I'd have no trouble on the Dyna, but this damn engine isn't capable of matchin' the Challenger!'

Though his eyebrows were knit with concern for her, he couldn't help grinning indulgently over her behavior with her new toy. 'At least she appreciates the work that went into it!' He reassured himself. He maintained a watchful eye on the Challenger's back end. "The second ya start weavin' that thing, I'm gonna be callin' this off, baby!"

They were following a two lane highway that wasn't used as much as the bypass. There was little traffic to get in their way, and less chance of a county or state highway cop interfering with her fun.

"I gotta admit, she might be sore and stiff, but she's handlin' the damn thing well," Alex observed. "Guess it shouldn't surprise me. She's never given me reason to worry about her behind the wheel."

He shook his head to clear his mind of images of the wreck that had nearly taken her from him. She'd survived and she had her sight. "I gotta start lettin' go of that memory. She's never gonna like bein' fenced in."

He noticed that the Challenger was growing larger in his field of vision. He eased up on the accelerator as Cat pulled the Challenger to a stop in a large dirt area on the opposite side of the road. As the PT neared the spot, Cat executed a two point turn, pointing the Challenger back towards Charming.

Alex pulled up next to her, the Cruiser pointing in the direction they'd been following. "You a'right, baby?"

"Just fine, love!" She sang out over the Dodge's Hemi rumble. "Just figured y'all were gettin' unduly worried and decided to save you the trouble of tellin' me to head home."

Alex couldn't suppress a triumphant grin. "I might get ya trained after all!"

Cat let the engine rumble her defiance as she saluted him with her middle finger. "Fuck y'all!"

She put the Challenger into gear and sped away from the Cruiser, leaving a large cloud of dust in her wake. Alex pressed the power window button, raising the window before the dust could enter the Cruiser's cockpit. He picked up the two - way and snarled, "You are so gonna pay for that remark, woman!"

"Ha! Y'all gotta catch me first!" Her voice retorted through the two - way's speaker. That mischievous laugh in her voice that he'd missed was quite audible.

"I consider myself challenged, and I never back down from one!" He stated, returning the two - way to the center console. He piloted the Cruiser in a tight U - turn and took off down the road after the Dodge.

Though she had a considerable head start, Alex knew he'd be able to keep her in sight, and would follow her until she returned to the house. He'd be right behind her and keep her from escaping his punishment.

Otto watched Clay and Bobby walk out of the visitation room. The farther they got from him, the more blurry their forms became. 'At least I could kinda see them while they were sittin' in front of me,' he mused. 'That's a little improvement. Stronger lenses in these cheaters might help matters.'

"Delaney! Let's go!" A guard called out.

Otto stood up from the table and turned in the direction of the guard's voice. "Yeah, comin'!" He muttered, walking carefully towards the doorway. "I suppose I'm goin' back to my cell?" He asked the guard after he crossed the threshold into the hall.

"Nah. Infirmary."

Otto turned his face towards the guard. "I didn't put in an infirmary request!"

"I was told to take you to the infirmary, Delaney, so you're goin' to the infirmary. The question is, are you goin' under your own power, or do I have to have you strapped onto a stretcher?"

"When you put it that way, guess I'll go to the infirmary," Otto replied, allowing the guard to handcuff him. It was another one of the many indignities heaped upon him after he'd killed the skinhead that had gouged out his eye. He'd given Clay and Bobby the impression that he'd not known the prison library was monitored when he committed the act.

'I didn't forget. I wanted the guards to witness me killing that peckerwood.' Otto mused. "LuAnn's dead, the club's changed too much under Clay's rule. I just want to die and be put out of my misery.' He had no idea what was going to happen in the infirmary. He didn't really care.

The guard unlocked a door and held it open for him. Otto stepped past the threshold and waited for the guard to unlock the handcuffs.

"Wait here. Don't bother looking for any drugs or sharp objects. They're all locked up in another room," the guard advised before slamming the door shut.

Otto shrugged and looked around the room. There were two exam tables, a cabinet and counter, and a few medical posters. 'All the comforts of a normal doctor's exam room!' He sat on the edge of one of the tables to wait.

Elsewhere in Stockton Prison, an orderly wheeled Lenny Jankowit, another founding member of SAMCRO, towards the same infirmary where Otto Delaney waited. Unlike his brother, Lenny knew why he was going to the infirmary and what awaited him there. His lawyer had contacted him with the intel just that morning.

"A private meeting has been arranged for you and Otto Delaney for later this morning," the lawyer announced when Lenny placed his daily collect call to him.

Lenny placed a hand over the device in his larynx, gulped air, and croaked, "What for?"

"For you to talk. Otto will have the details. I'll be waiting for your call after the meet, as I'm sure there will be something you'll need me to do," the lawyer replied. He was used to Lenny's speech pattern. The laryngectomy he'd endured for throat cancer required a great deal of effort to speak. Economy of words was common for Lenny.

"A'right," Lenny replied, replacing the receiver onto the prison payphone and lowering himself into the waiting wheelchair.

Though weakened by his condition, Lenny could walk and stand for short periods of time. The manual wheelchair made it easier for him to get around the vast facility. He rolled himself down the hall towards the orderly that waited for him.

He rolled to a stop before the orderly and glared up at the white clothed figure. "You know where we're goin'?" Lenny inquired.

"Yes sir," the orderly replied, stepping behind the wheelchair to pilot it to the infirmary. Lenny clasped his hands in his lap and relaxed, enjoying the ride.

'I'm lookin' forward to seein' Otto, even if it's only for a few minutes. The fucktards in charge around here don't allow me many visitors these days. It'll be good to see someone that isn't afraid of me!'

The wheelchair came to a stop in front of a door. The orderly unlocked it, opened it, and pushed Lenny inside.

Across the small exam room, Otto Delaney was perched on the edge of one of the tables. One lens of Otto's eyeglasses was blacked out, covering the empty socket where he good eye once existed.

Lenny glared behind him and barked a sarcastic inquiry at the orderly. The white garbed figure backed out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Cat backed the Challenger into her driveway, parking to the farthest side. She wanted to be sure there'd be room for the PT and the motorcycles to maneuver around it. She shut down the engine and unlatched the safety harness, sliding out of the driver's seat and closing the door after her.

She heard the PT's engine as it pulled into the driveway. She turned and waved at Alex as he stopped the Cruiser in front of the Dodge and climbed out of the driver's side.

"Hey, love!" She grinned, leaning against the front grill of the Challenger.

"Hey back, woman!" He grinned slyly, striding towards her with an intensity that intrigued her. He stopped directly in front of her, leaving very little space between their bodies. "I believe ya gave me an invitation a little earlier."

"I did?" She inquired innocently. "I can't imagine what it was!"

"I don't have to imagine!" He retorted, fitting his body against hers so that she could feel exactly what he had in mind.

"So I notice," she smirked. "Would y'all be interested in 'baptizin' the back seat?"

"Why do ya think I parked the Cruiser in front of the Dodge?" He growled.

She shrugged, then wrapped her arms around his waist, laying her head against his chest. She could hear his heart race under her ear while her traitorous nipples grew as hard as his cock.

"Feels like you're definitely interested," he murmured, slipping his hand inside her shirt. "Why wait to get in the back seat?"

"I'm not that much of an exhibitionist," she snorted in laughter. "It's all I can do to offer to get in the back seat in my own driveway in daylight!"

"It's that trainin' I've been givin' ya," he stated proudly.

"Aw, fuck y'all!" She growled.

He pulled her to the passenger side of the Challenger and opened the front door. "That's exactly what I intend, woman!"

Stahl couldn't take any more sympathetic glances from her fellow agents. 'If one more person asks if I'm all right I'll scream!' She thought uncharitably.

She decided she'd rather work out at CPD headquarters than spend another minute with her own team. She had a meeting with Jax Teller later in the morning, so it made more sense for her to be in Charming. She wasn't relegated to desk duty since she hadn't killed any of their assailants the day before.

She grabbed her keys and sunglasses and strode out of the bullpen. No one stopped her so that she nearly skipped happily out of the quiet office building. She remembered at the last minute to maintain a slow, measured gait as if she was carrying a heavy emotional burden until she reached her car.

"Whew!" She sighed, sliding into the sanctuary of her car. "It's good to get out of there!" She checked in the rear view mirror to make sure none of her team were watching, then she started the car and backed out of the parking spot.

She turned in the opposite direction of where she needed to go. Stahl felt she needed to indulge in subterfuge, just in case Agent Carey had someone watching her. She kept watching her mirrors for a possible tail until she was assured that no one was following her.

'Carey has suspicions but there's nothing he can act on,' she reminded herself. Assured that no one was tailing her, she headed towards Charming.

Filthy Phil waited the full 45 minutes the SAA had prescribed before he left the compound in the garage van. Some inner sense told him he didn't want to rush the assignment. 'Heaven only knows what he'll do if I get there too early!'

He noticed the van's gas gauge was hovering dangerously near empty. One of the prospect's jobs was to keep the tank topped off at all times. 'I doubt he'll object if I stop and fill up,' Phil observed wryly.

He took his time about filling the van's tank, making sure that he checked the oil and air pressures as well as topping off the tank. He also thoroughly cleaned the windshield. Once he ran out of small jobs to do with the van, he reluctantly climbed into the driver's seat and headed towards the Trager's home.

'Maybe I should warn him that I'm on the way!' Phil thought to himself, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his own burner. He punched in Tig's number and held the phone to his ear.

He listened in consternation to the phone ring, then sighed when he was forwarded to voice mail. He ended the call without leaving a message. 'That should be good enough!'

He turned onto the street that led to Cat and Tig's house and pulled slowly to the curb. Phil glanced up the driveway, noting that both the Cruiser and the Challenger were present. The Cruiser was empty, but the Challenger appeared to be vibrating.

Phil slid out of the van and inched towards the driveway, wondering if something was wrong with the Challenger. He placed a hand over his eyes and squinted at the car, then flushed when he saw Tig's head bobbing up and down with the Dodge's vibrations. 'Holy shit! Guess he's takin' breakin' in the car seriously!'

Phil scurried back to the van and slid behind the steering wheel, hoping that the SAA hadn't seen him. He opened the glove compartment, pulled out the van's owner's manual, and began studiously reading the contents.

Lenny waited patiently in his wheelchair for a payphone to become available. There wasn't a long line, but it was long enough to make him feel a bit anxious.

An inmate hung up the phone nearest Lenny and shuffled away in a huff. Lenny piloted his chair to the phone and picked up the receiver, punching in his lawyer's number.

"Lenny," he breathed into the receiver. The automatic operator recorded his voice and would announce the collect call to his lawyer's office. He waited for the call to be accepted, holding the receiver in one hand and his other hand over his trachial device.

"What's the story, Lenny?" The lawyer asked as soon as the connection was made.

"Need to reach out to our red friend up North," Lenny croaked. "He's got a visitor from across the pond that our Southern Cal associates are interested in. They need to know how soon and where they can pay a courtesy call."

"That kind of thing won't come cheap," the lawyer remarked. He made notes while Lenny was speaking. The former SAMCRO SAA was telling him to contact Putlova to find out how much it would cost to give up Jimmy O to them, how soon it could be done, and where they could meet."

"They're aware of that," Lenny barked. "You know who to contact with the details."

"I'm on it," the lawyer assured Lenny and disconnected the line. Once he got an answer from Putlova, he was to call Rosen's office to get the intel to SAMCRO.

The lawyer dug his pre paid cell out of his pocket and dialed the contact he had for Putlova.

"Ja?"

"There's an interested party in your bosses' visitor. They need to know how much, when and where," the lawyer announced.

"I'll call you back in a few minutes."

The lawyer sat back in his chair, relaxing for a few moments until the return call came in. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply to keep himself calm.

In Northern California, the contact person called Putlova's own burner, speaking in quick Russian when the mob leader answered. Putlova was alone in his home office, but spoke in terse Russian to his associate, giving the needed intel and adding that he would wait one hour for an answer.

The associate called Lenny's lawyer and provided the information, giving lattitude and longitude, along with a dollar amount. "If the deal is on, the answer is true. If not, the answer to two million is false."

"I've got it." The lawyer ended the call then used his burner to contact Ally Lowen's pre paid cell. "Write this down exactly as I give it to you. SAMCRO has an hour to respond."

Alex and Cat were too busy with their own delights in the Challenger's back seat to realize or care that they had an audience.

As soon as she got into the back seat of the vintage car, Alex had unzipped her jeans and hooked his hands into the waistband of both her pants and underwear, sliding them off in one fluid motion. He'd unzipped his own jeans while he climbed into the back seat to join her, his cock already standing at attention.

"Have y'all been takin' Enzyte or Vitamin E?" Cat remarked slyly, running her hand along it's length.

"Nope. I keep tellin' ya I don't need that shit!" Alex retorted.

"Sorry, love. It's just that most of the guys I associated with didn't have such a sexual appetite."

"Like ya say, baby, I'm not like most of those guys!" Alex leered.

"Thank God for that!"

"We don't have a lot of time, baby, so this is gonna be fast and furious."

He guided her down onto the seat, careful to make sure she wouldn't hit her head on the door handles. Cat lay under him, surrendering to his need with an arousal that equaled his. She slipped her arms around his waist, guiding him to her opening that was already hot and ready.

He plunged inside, settling into an even, steady rhythm, not caring that the car's shocks were moving in time with his thrusts. His hands slid under her shirt and bra to grope her breasts.

Cat returned the gesture, running her hands all over his chest and tweaking his nipples between her fingers. He hissed with pleasure and gave her own nipples a tweak that made her inner muscles clamp down on him.

"One good deed begets another," she murmured slyly, clamping her muscles in time with his thrusts.

Alex closed his eyes with pleasure, losing himself in the moment. He decided not to make it fast and furious, prolonging the moment as long as he possibly could. 'It'll have to last a while!'

When he was sure that she was good and ready to come, he picked up the pace of his thrusts, driving them both to a climax that made them both cry out. He relaxed on top of her, enjoying the feel of her aftershocks against his softening cock. "Ya a'right, baby?" He whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

"I think so," she replied. "Though I don't know if I'm gonna be able to get out of here!"

Alex kissed her deeply before rising up on his arms. He saw the van sitting at the end of the drive through the corner of his eye. Cat's inner muscled clamped down on him again, causing him to groan, "Shit!"

"What's wrong, love? Did I hurt y'all?"

"Fuck no!" He assured her. "I keep tellin' ya there's no such thing as squeezin' too hard; we've got company! Phil's here with the van to take me back to the clubhouse."

She bit back on her disappointment. She knew and accepted that he couldn't stay with her all day. It just seemed to her that their time together never lasted long enough.

Sensing her feelings, Alex looked down and kissed her again. "I feel the same way, baby. Duty calls and all that shit."

He reluctantly pulled out of her and slipped his jeans back into place. Then he opened the door and backed out of the rear passenger area. His eyes never left his wife's gleaming nakedness. He used the door as camouflage and kept his back to the street while he zipped up his jeans.

Cat wanted to lay on the back seat and never move again. Instead, she eased herself up, sliding her bra and shirt back into place. She flung her jeans legs out the open door and slipped her legs through them, easing them up to her waist and zipping them up.

"Ready or not, here I come!" She slid across the leather to the door, sticking her legs out so that she could exit the back seat.

Alex stood ready to help her out, watching out the corner of one eye to ensure that Phil stayed with the van. The prospect seemed to be engrossed in a book of some kind so Alex was able to slide his arms around his wife and hold her close once she was safely out of the car.

"I think we managed to do a pretty good job of baptizin' the back seat," he murmured.

"I agree, love," she grinned back, leaning her head on his chest. "Y'all certainly wore me out!"

"That was my intention!" He smirked. "I figure you'll go rest awhile instead of tearin' off in the Challenger!"

"I really hate it when you're right," she grumbled.

Alex placed a finger under her chin to raise her head up. He gazed intently at her for several moments, then kissed her fiercely. "I'll be late tonight, baby. Real late. Club business."

"I'll be right here, lover."

"You'd better be!" He warned her. "Is my personal stock still hidden in the garage?"

She nodded and stepped back. "I put it away the day you brought it back."

"That's my girl!" He replied, striding into the garage to retrieve his personal cache of guns. Cat secured the Challenger and waved at the van.

Phil didn't return the wave, as he was holding the owner's manual in front of his face. She limped down the drive to speak with him and tapped on the closed window to get his attention.

Phil didn't see her approach and jumped in surprise when she tapped on the window. The owner's manual flew out of his hands onto the floor beneath him. He looked out the window and flushed as he met her amused gaze. She pantomimed rolling down the window, and he complied with a weak grin.

"Hi, Miss Cat! Did ya have fun breakin' in the Challenger?" He winced the second the question was out of his mouth. 'Jesus Christ! Why don't I just stick my entire leg in my mouth?'

Cat struggled to keep from laughing at the prospect's chagrined expression, as well as the innocent double entendre in his inquiry. "I sure did!" She assured him with a warm smile.

Phil's face was flushed in embarrassment. "That's good," he mumbled. "Um, where's Tig?"

"Gettin' his personal stock. He'll be along shortly to rescue y'all," she replied, unable to keep from grinning at the prospect's discomfort.

"C'mon baby! Give the guy a break!" Alex called out as he approached the van. He carried a long canvas bag in one hand.

"I'm bein' nice!" She protested.

"Yeah, sure! And if ya believe that, Phil, I've got swamp land in the desert to sell," Alex retorted, opening the back of the van and placing the canvas bag inside.

"That sounds pretty valuable," Phil stated, not understanding the joke.

"It would be if it existed, darlin'," Cat informed the prospect. "It's Tig's way of sayin' that anyone willin' to believe I'm not misbehavin' will believe anything!"

"Oh," Phil looked down at the owner's manual. He wasn't sure if he liked being teased, even by someone like Tig's old lady.

Cat laid a hand on the prospect's arm and squeezed it conspiratorially. "Don't let it bother y'all, darlin'. Remind me to tell y'all about the times I've pulled the wool over Tig's eyes!"

"It'll be a short story!" Tig growled menacingly.

"Of course!" She beamed at him, using her middle finger to push her glasses back up onto her nose.

"I do understand digital communications, woman!" He informed her caustically, coming around from the back of the van to stand in front of her. He had his hands balled into fists against his waist and glared down at her. "Ya could show a little respect for me in front of the prospect!"

"As little as I can get away with!" She taunted merrily.

Phil gazed at the couple in awe. He'd only been exposed to the SAA's tough side since he'd patched in. 'He behaves like a human being around her! If I hadn't seen it, I'd never believed it possible!'

"Put your eyes back in your head and be ready to roll in a few," Tig growled at the prospect. "I'm takin' her to the house, otherwise we'll never get outta here!"

"Hah!" Cat snorted in disdain. "I'm perfectly capable of walkin' up my own driveway!"

"That might be, but I wanna make sure ya go in the house!" He retorted, taking her by the elbow and leading her away from the van. "Say goodbye to the prospect!"

"See y'all later, Phil!" She called over her shoulder, giving the flustered prospect a friendly wave.

"Yes ma'am!" He called after her.

"Ya didn't give him too hard a time about catchin' us doin' the dirty, did ya?" He asked when they reached the back gate. He opened it waited for her to go through the gate before following behind her.

"Nah. He was doin' a good enough job of embarassin' himself, poor thing," she grinned.

"And you were enjoyin' it!" It was a statement, not a question, but she nodded in agreement.

Alex backed her into the wall of the house next to the back door, holding his arms out palms flat on either side of her so that she was trapped. "Too bad I gotta go, baby. I'm sorely tempted to give the back seat another try!"

Cat laughed and shook her head, laying her palms against his chest. "You are insatiable, mister!"

"Yeah, and it's gettin' so you're the only woman that comes close to satisfyin' me!" He murmured, lowering his head to hers.

There was something about his kiss that did more than take her breath away and leave her weak in the knees. It felt different, as if he were trying to put a lifetime of feeling in it.

Cat's arms wrapped around his waist. Her hands slid up under his shirt and up his back, caressing the warm skin. She felt bewildered and just a little scared by the intensity of his kiss.

"Alex? Is there some kind of danger to that club business y'all haven't shared with me?" She whispered when he broke the kiss. He was holding her in a fierce embrace, as if he were protecting her from some unseen danger.

He laid his hand on her head, guiding it to lay against his chest so she couldn't see his expression. He wanted to tell her everything, but he was bound by the vote the club had taken. He closed his eyes against the internal pain. Taking leave of his wife reminded him of the way Jax, Clay, and Opie had taken leave of their women before the fight with Westin at Timberland. He now knew exactly how they felt at the time. Those same feelings were coursing through him. "There's always some danger, baby,' he reminded her huskily.

Cat could hear his heart beat. It was racing, but she wasn't sure how much of that was caused by her and how much was apprehension over the club business. "If it makes any difference, I have every confidence in your ability to come home unscathed."

He sighed and increased the strength of his embrace, nearly forgetting that he could re injure her ribs. He relaxed his hold on her and held her away from him so that he could look into her eyes. "Take off the shades for a minute, baby," he ordered. "I just wanna see your eyes, even if they're waterin' from the light."

Cat complied, surprised that her sensitive eyes didn't squint closed against the sunlight. 'Guess the shade of the house is helpin' a bit.'

Alex placed his hands on her cheeks and laid his forehead against hers. His eyes locked with hers, then he kissed her again before suddenly turning and striding towards the gate.

"I'll see ya when I see ya, baby," he called over his shoulder. He closed the gate behind him before she could reply and ran to the van.

He slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door after him. "Go!" He snarled at Phil. He stared straight ahead as the prospect started the engine and pulled away from his home.

Gemma's mind reeled with fear for her son's well being. Clay acted as if he knew the club's bond for the Morado incident would be revoked, and that would put Jax in a vulnerable position. She felt that she needed to take drastic action, regardless of her promise to Clay.

After Clay concluded meeting with Unser in the chapel, he and Bobby had left for Stockton. Jax was off on an errand of his own, though Gemma didn't believe that he was going to the reservation. She felt certain that he had a meeting set up with the treacherous ATF agent.

Gemma tossed the garbage bag into one of the trash cans behind the clubhouse, then grabbed her purse. She needed to find Unser before he left. She glanced at the monitors, relieved to see that Unser's patrol car was still parked in front of the office.

Unser waved absently at the garage van as it moved past him. He was sitting outside the clubhouse in the shade, his mind pouring over Clay's request. He wasn't sure if it was a request or an order. Either way, he felt like he had little choice in the matter.

'Frankly, Clay's dead right about Stahl. Not that it makes it any easier for me to accept the idea of being involved in killing another officer!' He felt like he was between the proverbial rock and a hard place. No matter what choice he made, he was going to feel like shit about it.

He sighed and rose from the picnic table where he'd been sitting. 'I might as well check in at CPD, see what needs to be finished up.'

Tig and Opie strode across the parking lot, each carrying assault weapons in their arms. Tig called him 'Chemo Sabe' as Unser passed them, a snarky reference to his cancer situation as well as his status with the club.

Unser informed Tig he wasn't funny, only to get a bark of laughter from the SAA. The police chief shook his head and climbed wearily into his patrol car. He'd just started the engine when Gemma thumped on the hood of his cruiser before rushing around to the passenger side and climbing in.

'Oh, Lord! Please tell me she's not goin' on the lam again!' Unser pleaded inwardly, raising his eyes to the Heavens.

Gemma informed him she was turning herself in and sat back in the passenger seat.

Unser stared at her, then shrugged his shoulders and drove out of the complex. He'd call Clay about Gemma's latest escapade once he had her safely in a cell. He wondered if Stahl would be in her temporary CPD office. 'If she is, I'm going to put the two of them together and make them work out their differences!'

Clay and Bobby walked to their bikes from the visitor's door to Stockton Prison. The visit with Otto had them concerned. Otto was showing all signs of giving up on life.

"He's really down," Bobby remarked.

"First thing I want to do is find out why Rosen's office isn't handlin' his defense!" Clay growled, digging his burner from the front pocket of his jeans.

"It sounded like it was his decision," Bobby observed.

"I don't give a shit! Otto's not payin' for his defense, the club is!" Clay snarled. The cell phone started vibrating in his hand from an incoming call. "What?" He roared into the phone.

"It's Unser. Thought you'd like to know that your bride is sitting in one of my cells. Her idea, not mine," Unser replied. "She insisted on turning herself in. Stahl's here and is about to meet with her. The murder charges have been dropped."

"At least you're deliverin' some good news!" Clay barked in frustration. "I'll be there in a bit. We're leavin' Stockton." He closed the phone with a snap and straddled his bike, adjusting his helmet in preparation for the trip home.

"What's wrong, brother?"

"Gemma's coolin' her heels in CPD's lock up. Turned herself in to Unser," Clay replied tersely.

"Are ya shittin' me? Why would she do somethin' like that?"

"How the fuck should I know? Why do women do any of the shit they do?" Clay roared indignantly. He started his Harley and put it in gear, racing out of the parking lot without waiting for Bobby.

The SAMCRO secretary pulled on his helmet and started his own bike, shaking his head over the latest catastrophe in what was already a busy day for them. He closed the distance between himself and Clay in just a few moments. 'I hope Gem's got a good explanation for this!'

Agent Carey walked out to the coffee room and glanced into the bull pen as he passed. Both Stahl's and Tyler's desk were empty. He was intrigued by Stahl's absence. He'd heard that she'd reported in to work. 'Maybe it was too much for her. That will make my job a little easier with her out of the office!'

He poured a cup of coffee for himself and started back to his office. As he passed the bullpen again, Agent Mendes beckoned the IAD agent to his desk.

"Why didn't you recommend Stahl take some time off?" Mendes challenged the agent. "She's really taking Tyler's death hard!"

"What makes you think I didn't?" Carey retorted. "I can't force her to take time off if she doesn't want to!" He pointed to Stahl's desk and added, "Don't see what the uproar's about; looks like she's left!"

"Not to go home. She radioed that she was going to CPD," Mendes explained.

Carey shrugged. "Maybe she's gone to pack up her office there. I hear CPD is shutting down at the end of the day."

"Maybe. Anything you want us to do about the assailants?"

"Not right now. It's likely their getaway car was stolen and wiped clean by now," Carey replied. "That's going to be a very cold lead."

"We - the team - want to check it out anyway. We want to contribute to finding Tyler's killer." Mendes insisted.

'Maybe you should look in your own bullpen!' Carey thought. Aloud he replied, "It's your time. Do with it what you want."

"We will!" Mendes assured him, glaring at the IAD agent's retreating back. He gazed around at the team and added, "You heard the man. Let's find that car!"

Lenny walked slowly around the fenced in exercise area. His sentence for killing three ATF agents during a long ago raid on the SAMCRO clubhouse didn't give him many privileges. Being out in the general population for exercise wasn't one of them.

Despite being lonely, he enjoyed the feel of the sun on his face and the wind in his remaining hair. It was the closest he could get to the feeling of freedom he used to get from riding a bike.

Lenny had found the events that occurred in Belfast Otto shared with him difficult to believe. The hardest part was learning that Jimmy O'Phelan had recruited both the SAMBEL Prez and SAA to assist with his nefarious plans.

"McGee founded SAMCRO with Clay and JT for fuck's sake! How could he, of all people, turn against the club?" Lenny wondered aloud, mourning the death of his old friend. McGee had kept in contact after he set up the Belfast charter, and even occasionally sent a letter to the imprisoned former SAMCRO SAA. "I'm gonna miss that big lout!"

He walked slowly around the exercise yard, thinking of the deaths of the five SAMBEL members ordered by Jimmy O, and orchestrated by Liam O'Neill. Lenny had no personal knowledge of Liam, except that McGee had trusted him in the SAA position.

'What on Earth could've been caused two brothers - and officers at that - to betray their brothers?' He couldn't fathom the idea. Brothers might not always get along, but betraying the club and killing brothers was inconceivable.

Death wasn't an unfamiliar concept to Lenny. Death had taken many of the First Nine in the last few years. JT was the first to die, but the Grim Reaper had claimed all but three of the founders. Only he, Clay, and Piney remained. That thought made him feel old and sad.

The problems facing SAMBEL with the death of their president and SAA meant little to Lenny. Nor did the fact that the majority of the mother charter would be residing in Stockton soon. 'It's not like I'll see much of 'em. They'll be in gen pop, while I'm whilin' my time away in my own little secure corner of the prison!'

He kicked a stone towards the fence, watching it roll until it stopped in the chain link. 'Hell, it prolly took an act of God just to get face time with Otto! One Hell of a lot of favors had to have been called in for this!'

What bothered Lenny most of all was Otto's demeanor during their meeting. Though they'd joked about their respective physical deficiencies, Lenny sensed that Otto was in a deep state of depression, and not just because of the loss of his good eye.

'Otto had somethin' to live for as long as LuAnn was waiting for him on the outside. He had hope, even if he was imprisoned for years,' Lenny mused to himself. "Now that LuAnn's dead, he's given up the fight and wants out. Guess it's a good thing I never got attached to any one woman. As far as I'm concerned, no woman's worth bein' willin' to bite the big one just cause she's dead.'

"Janowitz! Time's up! Back inside!" A guard shouted from the doorway.

Lenny waved a hand and turned back towards the doorway. His time in the sun was over for another day.

Unser escorted Gemma through the back door of CPD. "Most of the unis are out on their last patrol. It's like a ghost town in there."

"I'm not here to socialize, Wayne," Gemma snorted. "Just put me in a cell and leave me alone until Stahl gets here."

"She might not come in. Her partner did get killed yesterday," Unser reminded her.

"Excuse me for not shedding any tears of sympathy!" Gemma retorted.

Unser winced and decided to change the subject. "You don't have to do this, honey. I can take you back to the clubhouse. No one will know."

"Are you going to lock me up, or do I have to do it myself?" Gemma inquired angrily.

Unser sighed and took her purse from her, then led her to the cell block. "I'll tell Stahl you're here waiting for her, if she comes in."

"You'll probably call Clay, too," Gemma observed dryly.

Unser closed the cell door and walked away. His shoulders slumped as if he were carrying a large weight. 'I'm gettin' too old for this shit!'

He did call Clay, who wasn't pleased to hear that Gemma was in a cell. He winced at the harshness in Clay's voice. 'Can this day get any worse?'

Stahl strode past his door at that very moment without greeting him. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead. If any of the few employees still in the building wanted to offer their condolences to the Fed, her forbidding demeanor would've prevented them from doing so.

Unser sighed and rolled his eyes towards Heaven. "Whatever I did to deserve this, I'm sorry!" He got up from his chair and trailed Stahl into her borrowed office.

"Don't start on me Wayne!" Stahl snarled as he stepped across the threshold. "I'm not in the mood!"

"I didn't intend to. You have someone waiting for you in lock up." Unser announced coldly.

"Who?"

"Gemma. She turned herself in this morning."

Stahl snorted and threw her briefcase onto her desk. "Well, how nice of her! Not that it's going to do her a lot of good!"

"What do you mean?"

Stahl gazed at him with an expression that made Unser feel like a bug stuck to a slide under a microscope. "You might as well know. Tyler admitted to killing Edmond Hayes before she died. Gemma's clear of the murder charges."

Unser hadn't played poker for years with the club without developing a good poker face. He pretended to be surprised by the news. From what he'd heard about Tyler's mortal wound, it would've been impossible for her to speak, much less make a full confession.

Stahl pulled a blue folder out of her briefcase and handed it to Wayne. "Here's my statement from yesterday, exonerating Gemma. Read that if you don't believe me."

"Oh, I believe you finally cleared Gemma," Unser replied. 'I just wonder why you're shitting all over your dead girlfriend.' He shrugged and turned away from Stahl. "Come on, I'll take you to Gemma's cell.

He approached the lock up with Stahl following on his heels. Gemma was sitting on a bunk in the cell he'd locked her in. He unlocked Gemma's cell door and gazed intently at the two women. Stahl assured him that they would behave like ladies. Gemma's answer was to reach out and close the cell door, putting the bars between them.

Wayne turned away and left the women to talk alone. He felt unclean from being in Stahl's company for such a short time. Her behavior had helped him make up his mind about helping Clay.

Stahl pushed the blue folder with the ATF seal into Gemma's cell. Gemma refused to accept it, looking at it like it was a cobra getting ready to bite.

Stahl smirked at Gemma, then announced that she was clear of the murder charges, adding that Gemma would do six months house arrest with an electronic monitor for the charge of international flight. The house arrest was due to her recent heart flare up, but Stahl made it sound like she'd moved Heaven and Earth on Gemma's behalf.

Gemma wasn't about to accept Stahl's generosity. She stated that she'd still recant in order to save her son from the IRA or the club.

Stahl stared triumphantly at her adversary. 'The woman's got a steel set of balls, that's for damn sure!' She reminded Gemma that her sworn statement was already on the record, leaving Gemma with little choice but to trust the agent where Jax was concerned. Stahl turned away, file folder in hand. 'As much as I enjoy taunting her, I've got a meeting with her son. He'd better come through for me!'

Gemma snorted in disdain. 'Me trust her? Hah! If the situation wasn't so serious I'd laugh my ass off!' She settled back onto the bunk with a heavy sigh, muttering that trust wasn't an option.

That made Stahl turn back with an inquiring gaze at her adversary. Gemma looked defeated and tired all of a sudden. She explained that deals based on lies would get someone hurt before the day was out. Her words came out in a flat tone, nearly a monotone. It was far different from the belligerence Gemma usually showed to the agent.

Stahl shrugged and walked away. Her steps were light and quick. Nearly too light for someone who had suffered a loss of her own. It made Gemma wonder if Stahl was as ice cold inside as she was naive.

Stahl wasn't worried that Gemma would ask to speak to the US Attorney and recant. Her threat now held as much water as a leaky sieve. Stahl's statement was recorded and on record. Gemma was in the clear, and Tyler would soon be written off as a rogue agent for the bad shoot.

'All I need now is for Jax to deliver some IRA names for me, and I'm home free!' She thought to herself. She stuffed the blue folder back in her briefcase and shouldered it, striding out the back door to the parking lot.

She surveyed the lot carefully, looking for any vehicles that shouldn't be present. Then she went on to her car and slid behind the wheel.

Instead of driving directly to the cemetery where she was set to meet with Jax, Stahl turned in the opposite direction. She wanted to be sure that Carey hadn't put a tail on her. She drove towards the downtown business district, watching both side mirrors and the rear view to make sure she wasn't being followed.

Once she was satisfied that she was clear, Stahl turned off Main Street and headed for her meeting with the SAMCRO VP.

Jax stared at his father's grave stone. Just a few weeks ago, he'd sat huddled against the slab, mourning the loss of his son. The SO ring he'd left on top of the stone was still there, looking the same as the day he'd left it.

'I said some pretty harsh things about you in Belfast, Dad. I was hurt to find out you had another family while you were still married to Mom. I believed in your words, only to find out you betrayed us,' he sighed. 'Guess it's hard to be put on pedestal when you have feet of clay.'

He gazed at the NS ring that still adorned his finger, then removed it and laid it beside the SO ring. It was a token of love and apology to the memory of his father.

Jax turned and walked away, stopping a moment at Half - Sack's grave. The bare ground made the former Prospect's grave stand out from the other military markers. He strode on to his bike and straddled it, but didn't start off right away. He had a strange feeling from the meeting with Stahl. Though she'd acknowledged that Otto and Lenny's meeting was set up, she'd also made it clear to him that she'd been the one who'd killed her partner.

'How can you set up someone you're supposed to love to take the fall for you?' He wondered to himself. He couldn't conceive of doing such a thing to his club, or to his mother or Tara. Yet Stahl seemed proud of herself, and of the masterful way she'd cleared his mother at the expense of her partner's good name. 'Tyler doesn't deserve that just for makin' the mistake of hookin' up with Stahl! That woman brings chaos everywhere she goes!'

Jax had given the agent names of lesser members of the Irish Mafia, names that wouldn't be of much help to her by the end of the day. 'Mom's right about us not bein' able to trust Stahl. She prolly doesn't trust us to deliver, either. She'll be surprised when we do.'

The one thing Jax knew for certain was that Stahl would rat him out to the club. It was part of her nature and he'd anticipated that when he'd first taken his plan to the club. 'On the other hand, she can't shit on the deal. It's all in writing and can't be changed to suit her!' He smiled grimly.

That left his mother as the only fly in the ointment. Stahl had been quite triumphant when she told Jax that his mother had tried to screw up her part of the deal. 'Mom thinks I'm a rat and the club will find out. We all agreed not to tell the women anything until it was over. At least she can't do any more damage while she's in the CPD hotel!'

He felt better about Gemma's situation, knowing that she wouldn't be going to SJCCF after all. 'She might bristle over home detention, but she'll be able to be with her grandson. It'll keep her happy while we're gone.'

Clay understood exactly how Tig felt whenever he muttered that he didn't know whether to kiss or kill his wife after she'd done something reckless. 'This is not the time for Gem to go off half - cocked!' He observed wryly as Unser led him to the cell his wife occupied.

"I'll leave you two alone," Unser murmured, leaving the cell unlocked and returning to his office with the San Joaquin Chornicle.

Clay decided not to use either option on his wife, choosing instead of listen to her explanation. Then she informed him that Stahl had already informed her that she was cleared of the murder charges.

"So what the fuck are you still doin' here?" He growled.

"There's still the international flight charge. She arranged for me to be on home detention for six months. I can't go anywhere until someone from SANWA fits me for a monitor," she explained. "Wayne put in a call to Rosen's office, but Ally's not in."

That was good news to Clay. It meant she had gotten word from Putlova's people and was on her way to the clubhouse to deliver it. As much as he wanted to stay with Gemma, he had to get back to find out the cost to the club to obtain Jimmy O.

"Are ya gonna be a'right?" He asked.

"Yeah," Gemma replied non commitally. She'd lived with Clay long enough to recognize the signs of pressing club business. "Go on. It's not like I'm goin' anywhere soon!"

He kissed her and murmured, "I love ya, baby."

"I know," she replied, watching as he exited the cell and closed the door behind him.

"I'll see ya later," he assured her before departing the cell block. Once he was out of Gemma's hearing, he pulled out the burner to call Tig.

"Ally there yet?"

"Nah. She's on the way out?"

"I believe so. Gem's in CPD lock up. Turned herself in, but she's clear of Edmond's murder."

"Good. What's she doin' in a cell?"

"International flight charge. She's gettin' home detention, needs Ally to get her out and take her to get fitted," Clay replied.

"Shit!" Tig muttered.

"Keep Ally occupied until I get there. Need to touch base with our soon to be retired chief."

"A'right," Tig assured him.

Clay leaned against the door frame to Unser's office. He felt distressed by the barren walls and desk that once held the chief's awards and military service momentos. "Looks kinda dreary in here," he remarked.

Unser looked up from the newspaper. "Yeah, it's gonna be real dreary come 5pm," he sighed.

"What's the town gonna do after that for law enforcement?"

Unser tossed the paper on his desk. The article about Jacob Hale's involvement in the previous day's hostage crisis, along with a picture of him emerging victorious from his office building was prominently featured.

'Shit! What a glory hound!' Clay grimace.

"This is how I'm learning what's going to happen to my town!" Unser snorted, pointing at the offending story. "According to that, SJSD will have two patrol stationed in Charming overnight, then three during the daylight hours!"

"At least it's better than nothin'," Clay remarked, sinking into the chair across from Unser. "Though I think the whole thing stinks."

"That makes both of us," Unser sighed. "What really grates on my nerves is that Hale's promised SJSD a new building when - not if - he becomes mayor!"

"Shit! You've only been tryin' to get an expansion for this place for the last decade!"

"No kidding. Three stories, jail in the basement with more than three cells!" Unser retorted angrily. "You should have seen that fucktard holding court in the hospital lobby yesterday!"

"Big crowd of press?"

"No," Unser admitted. "The broadcast media pretty much ignored him; just the Chronicle fawning over his every word like it was gospel."

"That's only because he's one of their biggest advertisers," Clay pointed out.

"Whatever," Unser shrugged. "You didn't come here to ask about Charming's continued law enforcement, though. My answer is 'yes'."

Clay nodded appreciatively. "I was hopin' that'd be the case. I don't have specifics for ya yet; we're workin' on that right now. Tig will get with ya about the particulars later."

"Don't you want to know why I decided in your favor?" Unser inquired as Clay stood up.

"Nah. The important thing is that you're on our side," Clay stated before he strode out of the office.

Cat shook her head over her husband's abrupt departure and let herself into the back door of the house. It was strangely quiet with the cats over in their room at the coffeehouse.

She walked into the library and turned on the stereo for background music. She didn't mind being on her own, but the stillness in the house was unnerving. She returned to the living room while the stereo played a tape of some of her favorite 70's hits, relaxed in the recliner, and picked up the paper.

"I swear to Gawd this paper isn't even worth usin' to line the litter boxes!" She exclaimed when she saw the banner headline proclaiming Jacob Hale a local hero. She shook her head and skimmed the puff piece, noting that Hale had formally declared his candidacy for mayor.

"If this story is any indication, he seems to think he has the office in his pocket already!" She observed dryly. "I guess he thinks makin' extravagant promises about the future of public safety will seal the deal for him. What a whanker!"

She yawned widely and stretched, wincing slightly from her injuries and deliciously sore bottom half. Between the excitement of the Challenger and all the physical attention Alex had given her, she could barely keep her eyes open.

"Hell, it's not like there's anyplace I need to be at the moment. The staff knows how to reach me if they need me. There's no law against me takin' a nap!"

She limped to the bedroom, removed her boots and jeans, and slid between the sheets. Alex's pillow held his scent, as did the covers from his side of the bed. She sighed in contentment, breathing in his natural aroma of smoke and the outdoors. A few breaths later, she was sound asleep.

Ally Lowen was enjoying a cup of coffee in Juice's company when Clay entered the clubhouse. Juice had been showing her the web pages he built for Charming Pawse and Teller Morrow, and was planning to make for Lumpy's Gym.

"I also made a pretty neat website for Caracara; too bad it burnt down," he added.

"You do good work, Juice. Maybe we should have you rework the law firm's website," Ally replied.

"I'd like that."

"Later, Juicey," Clay announced, heading towards the chapel where the rest of the club was already gathering. "Inside, now!"

"See you later, Juice!" Ally called out as Juice leapt towards the chapel.

"C'mon, Ally. We need to hear the intel you have for us."

Ally knew not to cross the threshold of the chapel. She leaned against the door frame with a sheet of paper in her hands. She held it on top of a plain manilla envelope. She read the cryptic message aloud to the club, who seemed to know what it meant.

Clay dismissed her for the moment, assuring her she wouldn't have to wait long. She grinned knowingly and closed the door behind her as Juice began working his computer magic. She decided to check in with Chuckie while she waited. 'He might have some questions about the legal aspects of the garage I can help with.

The mechanics who weren't club members were hard at work in the various bays. They waved at her as she passed and she smiled and waved back at them. She walked into the office where Chuckie was working at the desk on some invoices.

"How's it going, Chuckie?"

"Busy. I accept that, though."

"Looks like it. What's in the boxes?" She asked, pointing to the pile of boxes sitting against the wall.

"Something for the club, if I can ever get someone to look at it!" He explained ruefully. "Everybody's kinda preoccupied."

"So I notice. That's why I'm here. Waiting to deliver an answer for the club and thought I'd see if there was anything the garage needed my help with."

"Not at the moment, but I'll certainly keep your offer in mind!" Chuckie replied.

"You do that," Ally grinned. "I'll just go back across the lot, then. See you later."

"Bye, Ms. Lowen!"

As soon as Ally returned to the shaded picnic area, Opie burst out the clubhouse door to tell her the answer was true. She acknowledged the information amd walked on to her car where she could contact the other lawyer in private. She pulled her prepaid out of her purse and dialed the number she'd been given for the lawyer.

"You have an answer?"

"True," she stated flatly.

"Very well. I will pass that along to the appropriate party," the voice on the other end of the line announced. The line went dead before Ally could reply.

Opie was watching her from the picnic area. She gave him a thumbs up, which he returned with a slight nod. She sighed and shook her head before starting her car. Before she could put it in gear, her regular cell phone rang.

"Ally Lowen," she announced in her most professional voice.

"This is Unser. Are you busy?"

"Not at the moment. What's up?"

She listened as Unser told her that Gemma had been cleared of the murder charges, but needed to be taken to SJSD to be fitted for an ankle monitor.

"That's right. They're taking over Charming's law enforcement detail today," Ally observed. "I'm sorry, Wayne. You and your people deserve better."

"That seems to be the prevailing sentiment, except for where it really counted," he sighed.

"Is Gemma at home?"

"No, she's here in lock up. I'll explain when you get here," he replied.

"I'm on my way," she stated, turning off her cell. She put the car in gear and drove out of the compound. Jax pulled in just as she approached the gate. They exchanged friendly waves as she turned onto the street.

"I'm certainly earning money from the club today!" Ally mused wryly.

Jax rode on into the compound, parking his bike against the metal post between Clay and Bobby's bikes. 'Looks like the gang's all here.'

Chuckie wasn't willing to accept being blown off by everyone about his boxes any longer. 'I'm gonna follow the next person that ignores me and make 'em listen!'

He came out to the parking lot when he heard Jax's Harley roar into the compound. Chuckie walked up to him as the VP started towards the clubhouse. Though he was nice about it, Jax also disregarded what Chuckie had to say in favor of getting an update from Opie.

Neither Jax nor Opie paid attention to Chuckie. Both were intent on the situation at hand. As soon as he heard that the club needed two million dollars, Chuckie raced off to the office. 'It's now or never!' He thought to himself, grabbing the topmost box in his arms and scurrying back outside.

Opie went on into the clubhouse as Tara walked up to Jax. "Everything OK?" She asked.

"Fine. Mom's in lockup at CPD."

"Do I want to know?"

Jax shook his head. "Where's Abel?"

"At the house with Lyla and Neda."

Chuckie rushed up to the couple and dropped the box on the concrete, letting out a huge gasp from the exertion. Jax looked down at the box and asked pleasantly, "What's this?"

"Something I've been trying to share with you guys for ages!" Chuckie panted, ripping the tape from the top of the box and spreading the cardboard flaps apart.

Tara let out a gasp of amazement. "I've never seen something like that except on TV!"

"Is there more of this stuff in those boxes in the office?" Jax inquired.

"Sure are!" Chuckie grinned triumphantly.

Jax bent down, picked up the box, and hefted it in his arms. He strode into the clubhouse towards the chapel with Chuckie and Tara following on his heels. "Get the door, Chuckie," he stated.

Tara moved to the bar where the prospects were waiting for the club to come out. Jax rushed into the chapel and placed the box right between his chair and Bobby's while the door swung shut behind them.

Chuckie explained that part of his job while working for Henry Lin had been to dispose of the imperfect printed bills. He'd squirreled away a large number of the misprinted pages, figuring they might come in handy some day. He was offering the entire five million dollar stash to the club.

They greeted Chuckie's contribution to the cause with great delight. This was the answer to their problem of raising the two million dollars Putlova had demanded in return for turning over Jimmy O.

"This sure beats robbin' banks or havin' our old ladies scrape up the dough!" Tig crowed. He grabbed Chuckie by the waist and pulled him onto his lap, offering to lend the club's mascot a hand to jerk off right then and there. Chuckie's loss of fingers had cured his masturbation compulsion, but Tig felt his friend deserved a treat.

"Hold on, guys!" Bobby cried, examinging the topmost page of printed twenties. "Chuckie wasn't kiddin' about these bein' imperfect. There's a lot of blemishes on 'em!"

The celebratory mood quickly froze from Bobby's announcement. "Bad?" Clay inquired gruffly.

"If I can tell, it won't be hard for Putlova to see it. He's got a good eye for that kind of thing," Bobby replied.

"Check all the pages!" Clay ordered.

The club waited tensely as Bobby scanned each page that had been in the box. Every single page had blemished bills on it.

Chuckie's face fell as he realized that his solution wasn't much of a solution after all. "I'm sorry, guys. Guess I shoulda kept my mouth shut after all."

"Are ya nuts?" Tig growled. "This shit would've worked with a fucktard like Salazar who can't tell his ass from a hole in the ground!"

"Agreed," Kozik added. "How were you to know Putlova would be able to tell the difference? It was a good idea, Chuckie. Ya never know when it might come in handy."

"Give that Russian a money sandwich," Happy grunted.

Bobby and the other club members looked quizzically at Happy.

"I get it!" Jax exclaimed. "We put the bad bills between good ones. Putlova's not gonna check the money at the meet; he'll have his goons do it. I doubt they'll know the difference."

The patched members gazed around the table at each other. They all felt it could work, but it was also a very risky move.

"Guess I can get that money Cat put away, we could put a few bricks of real money on the top, then sandwich the rest," Tig observed.

"There's the money Lyla and Ima loaned us for Salazar," Kozik added. "It's thin cover, but it's real dough."

"No," Jax stated firmly. "We're not puttin' our women's money at risk like that. At least with Salazar's ransom, there was a chance they'd get it back."

"You got a better idea?" Clay grumbled.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Jax replied, striding out of the chapel.

Tara stopped him just outside the chapel entrance. "What happened?"

"Not now, baby. I've gotta run an errand."

She followed him out to the parking lot, insistent on getting an answer. "I heard you guys whooping it up in there, then it went all quiet. What happened?"

"That money of Chuckie's is all misprints. If we give that to Putlova, he'll know in a red hot second that it's fake. I gotta get us some real money to camouflage the fake."

"I'll go to the bank and get some," Tara offered.

"We need more than you can spare," Jax replied. "I've got this. Why don't ya go on home for awhile?"

Tara stared at him, then nodded and started towards her Cutlass. Jax grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him for a quick goodbye kiss. He let her go and strode to his bike, quickly adjusting his helmet and starting the engine. He put the Harley in gear and roared off to the street. He intended to get the get the $250 grand Stahl requisitioned for Tara's ransom.

"Agent Carey," the IAD agent spoke tiredly into his phone's mouthpiece.

"Got some news for you," the head of the agency's IT department replied. "Still working on Tyler's email, but did check into Stahl's finances. If she's dirty, she's not getting any big money. No astronomical withdrawals or deposits. No indication of any false accounts beyond US borders."

"Damn!" Carey sighed. 'That blows that idea to Hell!'

"Why are you so interested in Stahl's finances? She said Tyler was killed in an ambush."

Carey made a quick decision. He had to tell someone his suspicions. He knew the IT department head well. The man wouldn't blab what he knew to the entire agency. "Stahl's statement had more holes in it than Swiss cheese," Carey explained.

"So she's on your radar. Do you think she did it?"

"We'll know more when your team recovers that email," Carey stated.

"I see," the IT manager replied. He knew then that Carey was basing his entire theory on that email's recovery. "I'll be in touch soon."

Carey hung up the phone and stared at his notepad. It was full of notes he'd jotted pertaining to the case, and his belief that Stahl had killed Tyler. 'Stahl could easily explain away all these inconsistencies if I bring them to the higher ups now. Without hard evidence - other than the coroner's report - they'll just shove it under the rug.'

He glanced down at the coroner's report. It clearly indicated that there was no way, based on the fatal wound, that Tyler could've made a death bed confession of the type Stahl claimed she made. 'I know Stahl is responsible for that dirty kill in Galt! Proving it is the bitch!'

He pulled out the transcript of Stahl's status report from the Galt shooting and settled back to read it again.

Jimmy O'Phelan stood in the middle of the guest room he'd occupied overnight. He'd packed what few belongings he'd brought with him from Ireland. His new credentials were spread out on the bedspread.

'Putlova did a gud job on 'em. As gud as legal!' Jimmy observed to himself. 'Tha sooner Donnie an' Ah are oot o' 'ere, tha better Ah'm gonna feel! Sumthin' just doesnae seem ryte!'

Putlova suddenly appeared in the doorway to the guest room. He announced that all the arrangements had been completed for the flight to South America. Jimmy and Donnie would leave that night out of San Jose.

"Gud," Jimmy replied. Before Putlova could turn away, Jimmy added, "Did ye call Donnie an' tell 'im?"

"I thought he would appreciate hearing that from you," Putlova replied.

"Ye did gie Donnie 'is paypers befur 'e left?"

Putlova stiffened slightly, then turned around to face Jimmy. "Of course!"

"Ah wunder why 'e didna mention it," Jimmy mused.

A benevolent smile crossed Putlova's face, though the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Relax, Jimmy! You worry too much!"

Jimmy nodded at his benefactor, though the coldness in Putlova's eyes gave him chills. "Ah guess yer ryte aboot tha'."

Putlova turned away and lumbered back down the hallway to his office, closing the door behind him. He pulled out his pre paid cell and dialed a number.

"The answer is true." The voice on the other end of the line announced.

"Excellent," Putlova replied. He shut off the phone and put it back in his pocket. He felt nothing about betraying Jimmy. It was nothing personal, it was just a matter of economics and SAMCRO had provided the better economics.

Jimmy dug his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed Donnie's number. He frowned when the phone continued ringing. 'Tha's noot lyke Donnie. Ah kin always count on 'im ta answer!" He turned off the phone and tried unsuccessfully to keep his nerves from getting the best of him.

Chief Unser looked around his office for the last time. It was bare of everything that had made it his. Only the desk and chairs remained. The computers had already been taken down and carried away.

The dispatchers were still at work and would stay at their posts until the phone lines were forwarded the the telephone company at 5pm. They had offered to remain on the job until they were assured that the calls had forwarded to SJSD dispatch.

"We just don't want our residents to get nothing but ringing when the time comes," the senior dispatcher informed him. "Doesn't matter if we're paid the extra few minutes or not."

"It's likely the city won't agree to it, but I'll do my best to make sure you're paid," Unser replied, forcing the words past a lump of emotion. He handed a sealed envelope to all of his dispatchers and added, "This is a letter of recommendation to go to your next employer. If it's not SJSD, I hope one of the surrounding towns can give you work. You're the best!"

He hugged each dispatcher before retreating to his office. Before he could allow the sadness of the moment to overcome him, his cell phone vibrated in his pocket.

"Wayne Unser," he stated.

"Clay here," the SAMCRO Prez replied. He closed his eyes in sympathy for the Chief. 'Guess I've gotta start gettin' used to referrin' to him as a civilian.'

"Everything set?"

"Yeah. We're meeting Putlova about forty minutes away to get Jimmy. We're going to bring him back to the compound."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stahl will come here to get Jimmy. That's when we're goin' away to Stockton. We'll be in for fourteen months."

"How can you be so certain of that?" Unser inquired.

"This has been in the works for weeks, long before we went to Belfast," Clay explained. He outlined the deal Jax had made with Stahl to secure easy time for the club.

"Stahl's going to want to take Jimmy to the ATF building to question him about the Irish," Unser advised. "Anytime the Feds transport a major player like Jimmy O'Phelan, they use a two car convoy of unmarked vehicles. Stahl will be riding in the same car as Jimmy. They'll take the old national highway to their HQ since there's less traffic."

"Appreciate the intel. I know that road. There's a large pull off for Southbound traffic about 10 miles outta town. That's still in the jurisdiction, ain't it?"

"Yeah." Unser replied. "Is that where you want me to create a diversion?"

"Exactly. We're gonna make it look like the convoy was ambushed. It's gonna be bloody. Think ya can handle it?"

Unser thought about that for a few moments. He had no problem with the idea that Stahl was going to die. What bothered him about the ambush was the death of innocent agents, possibly good people who had the misfortune of having to work with Stahl.

"Are ya havin' second thoughts?" Clay inquired tightly. The last thing he needed was for Unser to back out on him at this point.

"Not about Stahl. There's been enough innocent law enforcement blood shed on account of her," Unser assured him. "How about if I chase the convoy down and force them to pull over at that point? I can tell her I received an anonymous tip that Jimmy's people are going to ambush the convoy further up the road."

"Will she believe ya?"

"Hey, I'm still a brother officer," Unser snorted. "Why wouldn't she believe me?"

Clay shrugged his shoulders. He was standing just outside the chapel. The doors were open so that his crew could hear his side of the discussion. They were busy preparing the counterfeit money for Jax's return with 'clean' money. "She might be suspicious that you didn't radio her."

"CPD dispatch is going to be shutting down at 5pm," Unser stated. "The car radios will be broadcasting on SJSD frequencies before then. All I have to do is tell her I didn't want to put it on air and didn't have her cell phone number to call her."

"Do you have her number?"

"We never got that chummy," Unser admitted with a dry laugh.

Clay chuckled dryly in return. "My crew won't have any problem puttin' the shoot on Jimmy's men. But how will that keep the 'innocent' agents from gettin' knocked off?"

"She'll send the other car off to check out the ambush point. She's too paranoid to let anyone else stay with Jimmy. That's when your crew makes their move."

Clay shook his head in admiration. "Glad you're on our side, Chief!"

"I'll see you in a bit," Unser stated, closing his cell phone to end the call. He shoved the phone into his pocket and sank into his desk chair. There was no turning back now, his course was set.

Stahl reluctantly handed over the knapsack full of cash to Jax. It was the same knapsack that Tig had used to carry the $250 thousand Salazar had requested in exchange for Tara Knowles' return. Stahl found a certain symmetry to that idea, which made her smile more grim than usual.

"Relax, Stahl," Jax assured her as he placed the knapsack over one shoulder. "You won't be without this cash for long."

"You'd better be right about this, Teller," she replied.

"Just remember the plan. You and your agents hang around on the main road. We'll bring Jimmy O'Phelan to ya in the van. We leave the van behind and you let us go. You get Putlova, Jimmy O'Phelan, and counterfeit cash off the street, plus your $250 grand." Jax grinned widely and added, "Seems like a pretty sweet deal if ya ask me."

"I don't recall asking you anything!" Stahl retorted. "You're the one who came to me with this crazy idea!"

"No one's holding a gun to your head," Jax replied evenly. 'Yet,' he added to himself.

'You won't stay that way for long. I could almost hope you fuck this up, Teller. I'd love to see you do hard time!' Stahl glared at the SAMCRO VP. "Just remember Teller, if one thing goes wrong, our deal for your club is off."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Jax retorted over his shoulder as he strode out the door of CPD.

Stahl remained in her office for a few more minutes, fuming over Jax Teller's cocksure attitude. She stood up, grabbed her briefcase, and took one last look around the borrowed office. The ATF was giving up the borrowed CPD office.

She marched out to the parking lot and slid behind the wheel of her government issue car. She needed to gather her team together and brief them on the latest mission.

Jax grinned triumphantly as he tossed the knapsack of money onto the conference table. "There ya go, boys. Two hundred thousand legitimate dollars."

"Ya got that from Stahl, didn't ya?" Tig grunted, recognizing the knapsack.

Jax grinned and lit a cigarette. "I figured it was time to let her do something for us for once!"

"I'm sure she didn't see it that way," Opie grumbled.

Jax nodded. "She wanted in on the action in exchange for the funds."

"Shit!" Tig growled. "We shoulda just used the women's money! That gash will fuck up and get us all killed!"

"No, she won't. I already worked it out. She and her crew will be waiting five miles from the transfer point. We ditch the van and Happy bitch rides back with one of us. Stahl and her crew will keep Putlova from chasing us any further. She goes after him for her money and the counterfeit cash, we come back here."

"And she gets Jimmy?" Opie inquired dryly.

"Nope. I already covered that. Tara's gonna be waitin' for us a mile from the drop point with the Cutlass. We transfer Jimmy from the van to the trunk, bring him back to the compound. The prospects will ride back with her."

Jax's brothers exchanged worried looks. They didn't doubt that the Cutlass would carry Jimmy back to the compound. What worried them was the fact that Tara was just a day out of the kidnapping. They shared the same concern that Jax's old lady might break down at a crucial moment.

"Clay, I need to talk to ya in private," Tig stated, getting up from his seat. He'd correctly determined that the club was looking to him to discuss their concerns with this part of the operation with their Prez.

Clay nodded slightly and walked out of the chapel, followed by his SAA. "You guys get to work on the money sandwiches!"

"What's the problem, Tig?" Clay asked as soon as they stepped outside the clubhouse.

"The guys are worried about usin' Tara for this mission. It's too soon after the kidnappin'."

"Tara's a doctor, she's used to operatin' under less than favorable conditions," Clay stated. "I'm sure she's capable of handlin' the 'O'Phelan Operation'!"

Tig vehemently shook his head. "I'm tellin' ya, Clay, it's a bad idea!"

"I don't agree, Tig," Clay replied, blowing a plume of cigar smoke through his nose. "Tara's come a long way in the last few weeks. She'll be fine."

"She's still got a way to go," Tig retorted, his eyes flashing blue fire. "We've got to have someone we can rely on in a pinch. You know my woman's used to this kind of thing. I'm speakin' for the club in sayin' that we need to rely on her. Besides, the Challenger has that false bottom, why not test it out on Jimmy?"

"Look, Cat would've been my choice, but she's not at 100%," Clay replied. "Granted, she handled the car OK here, and maybe on that short test run, but this is a longer run. I need ya focused, not worryin' about her."

Tig's eyes narrowed in anger. "I can do my job while Cat's doin' hers! Besides, one of the prospects can drive for her!"

Clay had just inhaled a large bit of smoke when Tig made that comment. It made him cough and choke. Tears streamed from his eyes as he glared at his friend. "Shit, man! Give a spew alert before ya say somethin' outrageous like that!"

Tig thumped his Prez on the back. "Sorry, man. Ya know my woman almost as well as I do!"

"She'd never allow anyone other than you to drive her car!" Clay wheezed.

"True dat. Especially the Dodge," Tig sighed in resignation. "And I can't drive the Challenger cause ya need me ridin' to run interference with the Russians."

"You catch on fast, bro!" Clay laid an understanding hand on his friend's shoulder and added, "Lissen, your wife's already done a lot for this club. It's time for Tara to give back. Besides, she's already here," he indicated the monitor that showed the black Olds pulling into the compound.

"Shit," Tig agreed reluctantly. "I hope this doesn't fuck us in the ass."

"It'll work out a'right. Let's get back inside. We've got guns to pack and money to stack."

Inside the chapel, Bobby carefully cut the sheets of counterfeit money into individual bills, then trimmed each bill so that they looked as uniform as if they'd been processed at the US Treasury.

The other club members counted and stacked the bills into bricks, sandwiching the flawed bills between real ones. The sandwiched bills were placed into the bottom of two duffel bags and camouflaged with bricks of the real bills.

"If Putlova has his lieutenants check the bag, they might be lulled by the real bills on top," Bobby explained. "If Putlova checks 'em, we'll be in deep shit."

"That's why we'll have the guns ready in the van," Clay growled, sliding a cartridge into one of the AK - 47's."

"But they could easily take out a few of us before we get the guns," Juice moaned.

"That's what the Kevlar's for, baby!" Tig laughed grimly, tossing the bullet proof vests on the table. "Ya might be bruised and sore, but sure as Hell beats takin' a bullet."

"All of ya goin' to the drop point are wearin' it," Clay announced. "No one's takin' one for the club this time!"

Once the two duffel bags were filled with money, the club members removed their shirts and put on the Kevlar, then put their shirts and cuts on over the vests.

Tig walked out of the chapel with two more vests, tossing them to the prospects.

"What are these for?"

"Just put them on and don't ask," Tig retorted. "It might just save your life!"

Miles and Phil exchanged wary glances, then quickly removed their cuts and shirts, put on the vests, and put their shirts back on.

Opie walked outside with a map of the surrounding area, to show Tara where she needed to wait with the Cutlass. Tara watched carefully as Opie explained her part in the operation.

"OK, I've got it," she assured Opie, glancing up as Jax approached with a Kevlar vest.

He helped her put it on over her shirt. It wasn't really necessary for her to cover the vest like the rest of them, but she had a hoodie with her, and would put it on once she reached her destination. "I figure that will raise less attention from anyone that might happen to pass by."

"Let's hope no one does. We can't afford for some do gooder to stop and help you," Jax observed dryly.

"It'll be OK," she assured him, leaning into his embrace. They were kissing as the rest of the club walked to the lot. The prospects and Happy walked past the couple without comment, carrying the duffel bags to the van.

Tig rolled his eyes at Jax and Tara's touching moment. "I hope to Hell Cat and I aren't that revoltin'!"

"You're not as cute," Kozik grinned. "But definitely revoltin'."

"You're full of shit!" Tig replied. 'I really hope Tara comes through!' He shrugged aside his doubts. There was no more time to have doubts. He needed to be on top of his game this time. Their lives depended on it.

He watched the Cutlass disappear and Clay walk over to talk with Unser, who'd just pulled into a parking space. Tig noticed that Unser wasn't wearing his badge and wondered if Clay had noticed that.

"Ally Lowen sprung your bride out of CPD a bit ago," Unser announced to Clay. "They're on their way to SJSD to fit that ankle monitor on her. Everything else is ready."

Clay expressed his gratitude for the help Unser was giving the club. He went a step further to enfold the police chief in the 'bro hug double back tap'.

Unser was pleased by the gesture, but also a little surprised as well. Things between Clay, the club, and him had changed dramatically since the confrontation in the hospital parking lot. He felt like he now belonged to something special.

Clay and Jax approached the other club members, who were gathered in a loose circle in front of the van. It was apparent to the entire club that this would be the last moment they would have together to say a proper goodbye. They had a role to play out in front of Tara when Stahl came to take Jimmy.

Tig, Jax, Clay, Juice, Happy, and Bobby gave their other brothers and the prospects fierce hugs. There was little they could say to each other without getting emotional. Though there would be occasional visits, it would be 14 long months before they'd really be together again.

Chuckie and the mechanics watched the leave taking. It occurred to them that something dire was going to happen soon. Though they were worried, they knew that one of the patched members would fill them in when the time was right. They stood quietly in the garage bay entrances, giving a silent tribute to the club that employed and protected them.

Unser also watched the leave taking from his patrol car. He wished that he could also give the club his best wishes for their endeavor. Instead, he silently witnessed the bond between the men. He wouldn't leave until they did.

Jax took the prospects aside and explained what he needed them to do for him after the Feds took them away. "One envelope goes to Mom, the other to Tara. Don't lose 'em."

Phil accepted the envelopes and slipped them into the inner pocket of his cut. "I've got this," he assured the VP.

The club looked around at the compound, then strode to their bikes and prepared for their last ride together. Harley engines roared to life, then one by one, the bikes pulled away from the garage and out onto the street.

Neither Gemma nor Ally spoke much on the way to SJSD headquarters. Gemma was nervous and upset about Jax. Ally's thoughts kept going over the cryptic message she'd delivered to the club earlier. 'I'm not paid to guess about things like that. Why am I so fixated on it?'

Ally couldn't find any answers to her introspection. She decided it was best to quit dwelling on the matter. What she didn't know couldn't be used against her later, and despite the saying to the contrary, ignorance was definitely bliss in situations involving SAMCRO.

The women walked quietly into the SJSD building. Gemma waited while Ally announced their presence to the desk sergeant on duty.

"Someone will be with you momentarily," the sergeant stated.

Ally walked away to sit with Gemma. In her experience, that meant they would be waiting anywhere from five minutes to an hour.

"You've been awfully quiet, Gemma. Is everything all right?" Ally asked softly.

"No, but this isn't the time or the place to talk about it," Gemma admitted. "Too many ears."

"Then feel free to bend my ear on the way back to Charming."

A plain clothed officer walked up to them, preventing Gemma from responding. "Which of you is Gemma Morrow?" He asked in a bored manner.

"I am," Gemma replied tersely.

"I'm her lawyer," Ally added.

"Then follow me," the officer retorted, turning towards a door leading to the interior of the building. He didn't wait to see whether the women complied, just walked to the door and pulled it open.

Ally and Gemma scrambled to comply with the officer, though Gemma felt her temper start to rise at his callous behavior. "The least he could do is look at us!" She snapped.

"Take it easy, Gemma," Ally assured her as they approached the bored officer. "I've got this." She glared at the officer, who gazed inquiringly at her. "You need to lose the bored attitude, kiddo," she snapped. "We're people, not cattle to be herded. A little respect is expected by both of us!"

The officer's eyes widened in disbelief. "You said you're her lawyer?"

"Yeah. You have a problem with that?" Ally replied icily.

"No, ma'am. If the two of you would come this way, please?" The officer's voice had lost its' bored edge. There was something about Ally Lowen that warned him not to get her riled.

"You go girl!" Gemma whispered appreciatively. Her estimation of Ally's ability to handle club matters had ratcheted up several inches.

The officer led them down a hall to an interview room. A small box rested in the center of a table. "If you'll both just have a seat," the officer stated pleasantly.

The women sat down in the two chairs provided on the other side of the table. The officer sat down, opened the box, and removed the ankle monitor. "This is the monitor. It's designed to go around the ankle, and will be loose enough for you to easily put on and take off socks, shoes, and hosiery, though it's suggested not to try to wear panty hose with this!" The officer grinned at his joke.

Ally and Gemma looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "Can we get on with this and skip the fashion advice?" Gemma growled.

The officer swallowed convulsively and continued, "Any attempt to remove or otherwise tamper with the monitor will automatically send an alert to our office and to your parole officer."

"She doesn't have one. I'm the contact person to be notified along with SJSD!" Ally stated flatly.

"Oh! I just assumed - "

"Don't assume. If you don't have the right information, now's the time to get it!" Ally snapped.

"Yes. Absolutely!" The officer swallowed again, his Adam's apple looked like a piston working in overdrive. "In fact, let me get the correct information right now, so it can entered into the system."

"I faxed that over two hours ago!" Ally exclaimed. "Honestly, a call to the DOC is in order if this is an example of the kind of attention your department is going to give this matter!"

The officer was beginning to sweat. He had never encountered such opposition to a monitor fitting before. Most criminals getting fitted for a monitor were happy to get it and didn't say a word to him.

"Let me get that paperwork!" He suggested, getting up from his seat and disappearing out the door as if a rabid pit bull was chasing him.

Gemma smiled evilly at the officer's hasty retreat. "You've got balls, girl. I like that. You'll do well handling the club's business."

"Thanks, coming from you, I'll take it as a compliment," Ally grinned back. "I'm not usually so abrasive. Bureaucratic bullshit like this really gets on my nerves."

"Am I supposed to be confined to the house for six months?" Gemma asked. "That will drive me nuts!"

"No. Stahl wanted it that way. I put in for you to be able to go back and forth to work, to Jax's house to see Abel, and to any doctor's appointments. They're supposed to connect the monitor to your cell phone and landline."

"What about shopping and that kind of thing?" Gemma asked.

"Sorry, darlin'. There was only so much I could do. Someone will have to do your grocery shopping and other errands. You can have visitors at your home, and you're not allowed to enter the clubhouse."

"Shit! It's almost as bad as jail!" Gemma huffed.

"Almost, but not quite," Ally assured her. "You get all the comforts of home, just limited mobility within certain parameters."

The officer returned before Gemma could ask about visiting Clay and Jax in Stockton. 'That probably won't be allowed! I don't know if I could last without seeing them, especially if Clay finds out that Jax made a deal with Stahl!'

The officer settled into the chair he'd vacated and placed a sheet of paper in front of Ally. "This is what we entered into the system for Ms. Morrow. Is there anything missing?"

Ally glanced over the print out, then opened her briefcase to remove a copy of the information she'd faxed the department earlier. Everything on the two pages matched. "You said all this has been entered into the system already, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Ally nodded and returned the paper to the officer. "Get on with it. I already explained the basics to her while you were gone."

"Then all we have to do is attach it, and you're free to go," the officer replied.

Gemma stood up and sat on the edge of the table. "Which leg do you want?"

"Whichever you're most comfortable with," he replied airily.

"I'd be comfortable with neither," she growled. A warning hiss from Ally made her stick out her left foot. "This one."

The officer quickly slipped the monitor around her boot, allowing a bit of slack to enable her to remove her boot later. "How does that feel?"

"Awful," Gemma replied. "But if you're asking if it fits OK, it does."

"Thanks," the officer sighed, locking the mechanism in place. He activated it and ran a check, which caused Ally's cell phone to ring. "That's the system calling you," he explained to her. "You don't have to answer this time. Just be advised that any call that forwards to voice mail will result in a patrol car being dispatched to bring Ms. Morrow in."

"Understood," Ally replied. 'That means leaving the cell turned on while it's on the charger every night!'

"It's not too late to change your mind," Gemma murmured.

"I'm OK," Ally replied.

"All right!" The officer stated brightly, clapping his hands once in front of him. "You're all set. If all goes well, you only have to return here in six months to have the monitor removed."

"I can't wait!" Gemma retorted wryly. Her tone of voice indicated she was less than enthusiastic about the whole idea. 'Still, it beats bein' cooped up in a cell!'

"You'll need to give us a little time to get back to Charming. She has to close the garage."

"As long as she is back in at Teller Morrow Garage within an hour. Any longer than that and a patrol car will be sent out," the officer advised. "Don't forget that she to be home from 8PM to 8AM every night."

"Not much wiggle room, is there?" Gemma muttered.

"Hush!" Ally hissed again.

"Ladies, we're done here," the officer stated. There was an obvious note of relief in his voice. He opened the door to the interview room, waiting for the women to follow him out. He escorted them to the lobby, then retreated back to his desk.

'Thank God that's over with!' He sighed as he settled behind the safety of his desk.

"Care to tell me what's on your mind, Gemma?" Ally inquired once they were on the road back to Charming.

"Plenty. How much has Jax or Clay told you about their up coming bond hearing?"

"Nothing. I delivered some information from Lenny the Pimp's lawyer. Have they told you anything?" Ally glanced out the corner of her eye at her client.

That didn't surprise Gemma. The club was always reaching out to Otto or Lenny. "I haven't heard a peep out of them, except not to worry."

"But something's bothering you. What is it, Gemma?"

Gemma sighed and poured out her fears for her son to the sympathetic lawyer. "I tried several times to get Stahl to kill the deal and threatened to recant my testimony to the US Attorney!"

"Why would you do that?"

"Because her partner, Tyler, was never at that house in Galt. It was another of Stahl's lies!" Gemma replied.

Ally nearly ran off the road in reaction to that revelation. "But you said -"

"Stahl gave Jax my testimony. The lie was that Tyler shot Edmond Hayes. Stahl came out of hiding after I shot Polly. She made me drop my gun, then told me to leave after she tossed the gun she'd used to kill Edmond into my hands."

"Thereby establishing your fingerprints on the gun that killed Edmond."

"Yeah," Gemma nodded grimly. "While I was hightailing it back to Charming so I could say goodbye to my family, she was putting out the broadcast about me shooting Edmond and Polly and getting away."

"God damn, Gemma! I didn't realize that bitch had already set up her partner for the dirty kill!" Ally exclaimed. "Considering her shock when you said it in your statement, she's one Hell of an actress!"

"No shit. I have a feeling she killed her partner yesterday to keep both her and me quiet."

"Why do you think that? Stahl's obviously a liar, but a killer?"

"It's not that big of a step to go from setting up someone for a kill to killing someone outright," Gemma stated flatly.

Ally glanced at her passenger again, then back at the road ahead. "Want to run that by me again?"

"Stahl made it look to the club like Opie was ratting them out, even held Ope's family in 'protective custody' for a couple of days. Paid off their past due mortgage and put a major deposit in the bank for them. The club got nervous. Opie was supposed to be the one that died when Donna was murdered."

"Holy shit! I've got to take this to the ATF's internal affairs, Gemma!"

"No, you can't! You'll sign Jax's death warrant!" Gemma pleaded. "She'll tell Clay Jax fed intel to her, whether he did or not. You know what was supposed to happen to Opie. I can't let that happen to my son!"

"Oh, shit!" Ally moaned. She was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place. She was bound by client confidentiality, but she didn't know if she could live with herself by allowing Stahl to literally get away with murder.

"Tell me about it. If I can get through their bond revocation hearing tomorrow, things might turn out OK for all of us."

"Now I know why Rosen turned the club over to me to handle," Ally murmured.

"Oh?"

"He's a straight shooter, no pun intended. He sees things as black and white. Doesn't believe in gray areas," Ally explained.

"And you do?"

"Being a lawyer isn't about justice. It's about manipulating the law to clear your client. I don't have a problem with that, as long as I know that I'm doing it for a good reason. The club is a good reason."

"I'm glad you're on our side!" Gemma snorted. "So you won't say anything to the ATF about Stahl?"

"Not with such high stakes involved," Ally assured her. "Besides, if their internal affairs has any kind of brains in their heads, they're going to see the holes in Stahl's latest story."

"I hope you're right."

James Windover dived back into work when he returned to the newsroom. There was plenty of other news in the region to cover besides the possibility that one of the ATF's own had gone rogue.

He met with his reporters in the conference room where they discussed all the day's follow up stories and new reports. Two of his top reporters would be working out of Charming that day.

Mark Royalty was handling the follow up on the hostage situation that had occurred at Jacob Hale's office. "Hale announced his candidacy for the mayor's office when he was released from the hospital yesterday," Windover announced.

"Guess the San Joaquin Chronicle scooped us on that one," Royalty shrugged.

"Not much of a scoop there. No one's announced they're running against Hale. After that article in the paper, it's likely no one will," Windover replied dryly.

"So if it quacks like a duck, has feathers like a duck, and limps like a duck, it's likely a lame duck," Royalty laughed.

"It does look way. Since you'll be covering the Charming election circuit through election day, keep your eyes and ears open. We'll treat Hale's run for the mayor's office as a sidebar to the hostage follow up."

"There's another aspect to the hostage drama," Beth Robins interjected. "Two bodies were found near Highway 18 yesterday. One was a cop. The other was just identified as the girlfriend of Hector Salazar."

"Interesting," Windover mused.

"Very. The cop was killed on the scene for her car. The girlfriend had been killed several hours earlier. Apparently bled out from a slash to the throat. I'd like to talk to those two women he kidnapped, see what they have to tell."

"Go for it," Windover replied approvingly. "OK, people, let's roll!"

The reporters started filing out of the conference room. The morning round table had been one of the first changes Windover had implemented as assignment editor. The reporters appreciated being able to bounce ideas off each other, as opposed to having the content of their stories dictated to them.

Windover motioned for R Jay Payne, who was covering the story about Agent Tyler's murder and the search for her killers to remain behind. He waited patiently for his co - workers to depart.

"What's up, boss?" Payne asked when they were alone.

Windover removed the letter he'd received from Tyler from his clipboard. He'd removed it from his locked drawer before the meeting. "I'm going to share something with you that might come into play in your story."

Payne took the paper and skimmed it, then his eyes widened and he re - read the letter, taking a little more time to absorb its' meaning. "Hole lee shit!"

"Definitely lead story territory if it pans out," Windover nodded.

"What do you mean, 'if' it pans out?"

"ATF's Internal Affairs got the original from me this morning. The investigating agent is working to substanciate Tyler's claims as we speak. If he does, he's going to call me with the go ahead."

"Takes the sting out of the paper's scoop on us, doesn't it?" Payne observed.

Windover grunted assent and added, "This stays in the newsroom with me. I'll film a few seconds of footage for 'B' roll text you the minute I hear from the Fed."

Payne gazed in admiration at his companion. "You realize that Pesta wouldn't have shared that with the ATF, don't you?"

"I don't give a shit. Pesta had the morals of Hitler. We do things the honorable way in this newsroom and still get good ratings."

The club arrived at the arranged meeting point with Putlova with minutes to spare. It gave them time to take up a strategic position in the clearing, so that their collective backs weren't exposed and Putlova's men couldn't get the drop on them.

Clay and Jax stood beside the van, along with Juice and Tig. The duffel bags of money lay on the ground in front of Jax and Clay. Happy and the prospects stood just behind the van, while Bobby leaned against his bike, watching the dirt road.

Tig leaned against the van's open passenger door with an arm draped through the window. The duffel bag of extra weapons was lying on the passenger side floorboard, open and ready if needed.

The club had decided that they would carry their pistols after all. Juice and Clay didn't carry their guns. They would be handing over the money to Pullova's henchmen so they were likely to be searched. The club as a whole felt a little more positive about their chances, but they were still wary.

The club tensed when they saw the dark SUV's approach. Jax leaned down and picked up the duffel bags, hefting them in his arms to better distribute their weight. He and Clay walked past Bobby to stand slightly in front of the parked bikes where Putlova could see them.

Jimmy O'Phelan hadn't wanted to leave Putlova's home without Donnie. Continued calls to his lieutenant's cell phone continued to go unanswered, making Jimmy increasing anxious.

"We have to go now, Jimmy. It's a long drive to San Jose. My men can bring Donnie," Putlova finally insisted. "We can't wait any longer."

Jimmy reluctantly agreed to leave with his benefactor. The bad feeling he had was getting more intense. Putlova insisted on having two vehicles, though he was riding with Jimmy in the back seat of one of the SUVs. That only helped increase Jimmy's apprehension, causing him to jump in his seat when Putlova's cell phone rang.

"Speak in our mother tongue. He's right beside me." He spoke in Russian so that Jimmy wouldn't know what was being discussed.

"The errand boy is dead," the lieutenant announced matter of factly.

"Any trouble?"

"Nyet. He never knew what hit him. We wrapped the body in plastic. No blood evidence will be found. We're taking the body to be disposed of."

"Excellent," Putlova closed the phone and returned it to his pocket. He grinned in satisfaction and glanced at Jimmy, who sighed in frustration and pushed his cellphone back into his coat pocket.

Jimmy had hoped that the call was about Donnie. When Putlova started blathering in Russian, Jimmy decided to try his friend one more time only to achieve the same result. "Whut's wi' tha' bhoy!" Jimmy snapped.

"It'll work out, Jimmy," Putlova assured him.

Both Cadillacs slowed down to make a turn off the highway. Jimmy's eyes narrowed in suspicion over the unexpected detour.

Putlova shrugged, explaining they needed to pick something up. As soon as the small motorcade rounded a bend in the dirt road, Jimmy stared in disbelief at Putlova. 'Ye basturd! Ye sold me oot ta SAMCRO?' He was disappointed in Putlova. He'd put his faith, not to mention his money, into the man to get him safely out of the country. Not to have the Russian mobster turn him over to the highest bidder!

"Tsk, tsk! You look like I just sold you into slavery! SAMCRO made me a better offer. It was strictly a business decision."

Jimmy glared at the Russian. 'Business me bleedin' arse! Now Ah unnerstand why ye wanted two cairs!'

The SUV's pulled to a stop a few yards from the cluster of bikers. Putlova's operatives in the lead vehicle got out and waited for their boss to join them from his own vehicle.

The driver and bodyguard in Putlova's vehicle got out of the second SUV with their guns drawn. They motioned for Jimmy to get out while Putlova climbed out of his side of the SUV.

"Here goes," Clay murmured to Jax. They moved slowly forward, arms held out from their sides in a non threatening manner. Jax held the hefty duffel bags slightly in front of him.

Behind the club's top officers, their brothers prepared themselves for possible battle. They straightened their postures and appeared more alert to what was taking place in front of them.

Putlova moved around the van to greet Clay and Jax, flanked on either side by his henchmen. Another minion remained next to Jimmy to prevent him from running away.

Jimmy's jaw was clenched tight, but he stood erect and proud next to the SUV. He wasn't going to give the club or Putlova the satisfaction of seeing him beg.

Putlova's henchmen from the lead SUV moved forward, patted Clay and Jax down, then accepted the duffel bags from them as Clay murmured how the bags were packed. Putlova graciously expressed his gratitude to the two outlaws as his cell phone rang again. Putlova excused himself while his henchmen examined the money.

The outlaws watched tensely as the Russians examined the money. Putlova conducted his phone conversation, appearing unconcerned bout the money his underlings were checking. He turned his back on the club and faced Jimmy as he talked.

One of the men from the lead car barked to Putlova that the money was good. Putlova motioned to Jimmy's guard as he walked back to face the outlaws. He shoved his cell back in his pocket.

Jimmy plastered a brave smile on his face and adjusted his jacket as he was led to his new captors. Neither Clay nor Jax returned Jimmy's greeting. Clay pulled Jimmy away from Putlova's crew, handing him off to Bobby, who took a firm grip on Jimmy and led him towards the van.

Clay shook his hands with Putlova to seal the deal and complete their transaction. Clay turned away as Bobby turned Jimmy over to Happy and the prospects. Jax stepped forward to grasp Putlova's hand and add his formal conclusion to the deal.

Though they gave no outward sign of it, the bikers inwardly relaxed. They were nearly home free. All they had to do was get out of the clearing and make the exchange before Putlova took a look at the money and gave chase.

The 'ping' noise from his computer speakers and a flashing icon on his screen alerted IAD agent Jonas Carey to a new email. His interest was heightened when he saw that it was from the director of the IT department.

He opened the email which had no message to it. There was an attachment icon, so he clicked on that and waited for the file to download. He clicked on the 'open' command and leaned forward in his chair.

"Hot damn!" He crowed in triumphant relief. "They got it!" He saved the file to his computer then sent it to the printer. He now had the final piece of evidence he needed to prove to his superiors that Stahl was a detriment to the agency by killing a good agent for no other reason than to cover her own bad behavior.

He retrieved the important document and added it to the file he'd prepared that contained the autopsy report and Tyler's letter to James Windover, along with the original reports of the Galt shooting Stahl's team had prepared before she turned them in. He tucked the file under his arm and strode determinedly to the his supervisor's office.

"Do you have your report on Tyler ready?" Carey's supervisor inquired as the agent paused at the threshold.

"I sure do. You need to look at this right away!" Carey announced, entering the office and closing the door behind him. He placed the folder on his supervisor's desk and sat down in the chair opposite him without being invited.

The supervisor's eyebrows rose on his forehead at the agent's unusual behavior. He picked up the file folder, skimmed the report, then glanced inquiringly at Carey.

The IAD agent nodded and indicated the supervisor should re - read the report. The supervisor sat back in his chair and began reading the contents in earnest.

Carey waited patiently, hands clasped before him in his lap. He was content to wait as long as it took for his supervisor to review the file.

The supervisor looked up after several long minutes and whistled soundlessly. "I had no idea she'd gone off the deep end like that! Are you prepared to take this to the director?"

"Yes, sir." Carey replied. 'I've been prepared for that the minute I took Stahl's statement.'

The supervisor sighed, picked up the receiver, and called the director's office. "Agent Carey and I need to meet with you immediately," he announced when the director answered. "Yes, sir, it's important. It's about Agent Stahl murdering Agent Tyler yesterday."

The supervisor listened intently to the voice on the other end of the line. Carey couldn't hear the director's reaction, but he knew the official wasn't happy. He lifted a finger and murmured, "Better tell him to contact the US Attorney. This might have ramifications on the death of Edmond Hayes and that statement Gemma Morrow gave him."

The supervisor nodded and offered the suggestion to the director. This time, Carey had no difficulty hearing the director's response.

"Shit! This has more layers to it than an onion and it stinks just as bad!"

Carey had to work hard not to grin wryly at the director's comment. He found it described the situation quite well. It was definitely multi - layered and it most certainly did stink.

Kozik, Chibs, Opie, and Piney rode with their brothers past the Charming town line, then broke off towards the Wahewa Reservation. Charlie Horse, the tribal chief, waited for them beside a dusty yellow school bus.

"Welcome," he intoned solemnly as the quartet walked towards him. "Which of you is Opie?"

The large, bearded young man stepped forward to shake hands with the tribal chief. "I'm Opie Winston. Clay told you I'll be acting Prez, correct?"

"He did," Charlie Horse replied. "I look forward to continuing our working relationship with SAMCRO."

"Same here. Everything ready?"

'A man of few words. That's good,' Charlie Horse mused. He nodded and pointed over his shoulder. "Full tank. We only ask that you return it in the same shape you got it."

"Including a full tank, I suppose," Opie grinned.

"It would be appreciated," Charlie Horse remarked in absolute seriousness.

"What say we get this show on the road?" Piney growled. "Or are we gonna stand around gossipin' like a lot of old women?"

"Speak for yourself, old man!" Kozik retorted with a nervous grin.

"A'right. Settle down, men! We've got a job to do!" Opie barked.

"Good luck with your mission," Charlie Horse stated, turning to walk away from the bus.

"You heard the man!" Piney instructed, climbing onto the bus and sitting in the driver's seat.

"Who said you're drivin'?" Kozik challenged as he and the others boarded the bus.

"I do. Have you ever handled somethin' like this?"

Kozik shook his head. Box trucks were one thing, buses were something else. "Don't tell me you're licensed for this crate!"

Piney started the bus' engine and shut the door. "I won't," he replied, putting the bus in gear.

'Don't celebrate yet, we're still not outta the woods!' Tig firmly instructed himself as the club rushed to the transfer point. Jimmy might be in their possession now, but there was still a chance that the whole operation could go to shit.

The club was 'riding casual' from the meet so the Russians wouldn't know there was any problem. 'Putlova's gonna be pissed when he finds we're a few million dollars short!' Tig observed wryly as they neared Tara. 'Hope the doc's ready to roll! Wish to Hell it was Cat waitin' on us. I'd feel a whole lot better about this part of the operation if she were here!'

Tig scanned the area ahead of them, watching both for trouble and for signs that the Cutlass was prepared for them. He rolled his eyes towards the Heavens and swore inwardly. "Dammit! Cat would've had the trunk unlocked and raised for us!'

Tara was leaning against the driver's side fender, looking at the approaching bikes. The trunk lid to the Olds was closed tight. At first, Tara didn't move from the fender, but then she started towards the back of the car as the outlaws brought their bikes to a halt.

'She's gonna open it up!' Tig thought, but his relief was short lived. Tara merely stood a few feet from the trunk, watching the club park their bikes while Happy and the prospects clambored from the van. Tara seemed to be confused and uncertain about her part in the mission.

"Shit!" Tig muttered darkly. He leaped from his Dyna and started to race towards Tara, but his progress was impeded by the pace of Jax and Clay in front of him. He snorted in frustration but had no choice but to adjust his stride to match theirs. He couldn't break formation, no matter how pressing the matter.

Tig barked at Tara to hand him the keys while Jax and Clay watched the road behind them for signs of Putlova.

Tara fumbled with the keys and finally tossed them to Tig. He swiftly unlocked the trunk and held it open so that Happy and the prospects could dump the blindfolded and bound Jimmy into the trunk.

Tig closed the trunk and tossed the keys to Tara. She caught them, but didn't move to the driver's door. She remained standing still, wordlessly beseeching Jax for reassurance.

Tig strode to his bike and mounted it, angrily jamming his helmet onto his head. 'She should already be outta here!' He snorted to himself. "I knew she wasn't gonna be able to handle this job! Cat wouldn't put us all in jeopardy waitin' for a goodbye kiss!'

Tig's anxiety increased as Tara continued to linger near her lover. "C'mon Doc! Move it! We don't have time for huggy body kissy face!' Tig thought disgustedly. 'Putlova's gonna be here any second!'

Clay picked up on Tig's sense of urgency and slid between the couple before they could lock lips. "You need to get going, doc," he ordered, guiding Tara to the driver's seat.

Miles was already in the back seat and Phil was climbing into the front passenger seat while Tara continued to 'tread water' between the van and her car. She finally seemed to come to her senses, slid behind the steering wheel, and started the engine. The Cutlass was taking a route that would take it well away from the Feds.

Tig sighed in relief when the tail lights of the Olds disappeared around a curve. 'That took too fuckin' long!' He could tell by the sudden release of breath from his brothers that they shared his sentiment, though none of them voiced their feelings to the VP. There'd be plenty of time for 'Monday morning quarterbacking' later.

Putlova didn't get into his Cadillac right away after completing the transaction with the club. He received yet another call and stood beside the hatchback of his SUV. His henchman placed the duffel bags of money in the back seat of Putlova's SUV while he listened to the caller.

Putlova was pleased with the way the transfer had gone, leaving him two million dollars richer. He completed his call and climbed into the back seat of the SUV. The bodyguard turned to watch his employer examine the bricks of bills, while the driver waited for the order to move.

Putlova didn't doubt his henchmen's eyesight. If they said the money was good, it was good. He just wanted to see all that green for himself. He withdrew a random bill and looked at it, then crumpled it into a useless wad in his fist.

'They think they can double cross me and get away with it? Nyet!' He ordered his driver to find the club.

Tig and the rest of the club were waiting tensely, watching over their shoulders for the Russian vehicles to give pursuit. A mere minute after the Olds had gotten safely away, the twin black Cadillac SUVs careened around the curve.

The line of Harleys and the garage van roared to life, pulling away from the transfer point just a few yards ahead of the approaching SUVs. The van was at the back of the line, offering some protection to the bikers.

Tig reached into his cut pocket with his left hand, withdrawing his revolver from his holster. Bullets pinged off the van's body, which Happy managed to keep between the bikes and the pursuing Russians until Tig was ready to return fire.

Tig twisted his upper body in the saddle, his left arm raised and pointed behind him. Happy eased to the van to the right to give his brother a clear shot at their pursuers. Tig didn't have time to aim. He had to keep the bike upright and on the road while avoiding taking a bullet or colliding with the van. One of his shots took out the passenger headlight of the lead SUV.

The Russians in the lead SUV lurched from one side of the highway to the other to avoid Tig's bullets. They returned fire, forcing Tig's bike to wobble as he negotiated a curve and passed the van.

Stahl and her team waited in a clearing a few miles from the transfer point. Stahl had received a text from Jax that the club was waiting for Putlova at the drop site several minutes earlier. She was growing more anxious with each second. She stormed away from the highway where her agents were prepared to form a roadblock. "Get ready to roll if they don't show soon!" She snapped over her shoulder.

"They'll be here," Mendes assured her.

Stahl shrugged and stormed off to her car. She climbed into the driver's seat of her Crown Vic, glaring furiously at the empty asphalt ribbon.

Several minutes later, unable to bear sitting and waiting, she stormed out of her car and back to the highway. She was about ready to tell her team to pack it up when she heard a distant roar of approaching Harley engines.

She stared off in the direction of the sound to see the line of Harleys coming near, followed by the van. "Close it off!" She barked, racing back to her car.

A Crown Vic and the ATF paddy wagon pulled across the highway, creating a roadblock. A scant few inches, just enough room to allow a motorcycle to squeeze past, separated the vehicles.

Stahl slid into her own Crown Vic, but didn't pull near the roadblock. The rest of her team stood on the asphalt, guns drawn and ready to fire.

The Harleys drew into sight, the SUVs in close pursuit. The outlaws braked to a stop as Happy pulled the van off to the side of the road a few yards from the roadblock. He ran up to Tig's bike, leaping onto the saddle. He placed his hands on Tig's shoulders. Tig yelled for his brothers to ride on out. The bikes roared through the small opening in the blockade. He relaxed and smiled grimly. They'd escaped whole! 'Just wait until Stahl looks inside the van!'

"Turn around! Turn around!" Putlova screamed when he saw the plain clothed officers waiting for him. "I'll get those bastards some other time!"

The SUVs skidded to a halt, turned, and fled back in the direction from which they'd come, retrieving Jimmy O'Phelan and punishing the motorcycle club forgotten in their haste to make their escape.

Stahl and her team rushed to the abandoned van. They had time to retrieve the Russians, though Stahl ordered an all points bulletin be put out on the SUVs and Putlova. She didn't want to lose the quarter of a million she'd given Jax Teller.

The agents kept their guns drawn and leveled on the van, creeping cautiously to it. One of the agents opened up the back and lowered his gun, his face pale with shock.

"It's empty!" He stated.

Stahl ran up to the side of the van and wrenched open the door. She gazed inside at the empty cargo area. There was nothing to show that Jimmy had ever been in the van. It was cleaner than a whistle.

"Go after those SUVs!" Stahl screamed, glaring fiercely at her team. The agents scrambled to their vehicles and took off in pursuit of the fleeing Russians.

Stahl glared down the road after the long departed motorcycles. The Harley engines were no longer audible. "You are going to pay for this one, Teller! As soon as I have the money back, I'm coming for you!"

Tara pulled the Olds into the vacant garage bay and turned off the engine. She had a slight headache from the mission and from the pounding issuing from Jimmy O'Phelan in the trunk.

"You did good, Tara," Miles informed her as he climbed out of the back seat. He had been in the 'orchestra section' for Jimmy's one man percussion session. His back was sore from Jimmy's constant pushing against the back seat in an attempt to get out.

A renewed thumping issued from the trunk. Jimmy's muffled voice could be heard pleading to be let out.

"I've got this!" Phil muttered grimly. He moved to the trunk and pounded a meaty fist on top of it. "Shut the fuck up, asshole!" He growled. The impact of Phil's fist against the metal of the car must've made an impact on Jimmy. Phil's directive was met with blessed silence.

The trio walked out of the bay into the parking lot. Phil lowered the doors on all the bays and moved across the parking lot with Miles. Tara ventured into the office where Chuckie was filling paperwork away.

"Any idea when Gemma will be back?" She asked, settling onto the sofa.

"Haven't heard a word, doc," Chuckie replied.

"How's your hands? I haven't had a chance to look at those burns in a few days."

"You've been a little busy," Chuckie grinned. "They're fine. I've been doing what you told me to do to treat them and they're nearly healed."

"Mind if I take a look?"

"I accept that!" He closed the file cabinet and sat down on the sofa near her. He used his mouth to remove the leather gloves that covered his hands.

Instead of gauze wrappings, Chuckie's burns were covered with regular adhesive bandages. The scabs where his fingers had been cut away were replaced with a layer of healthy skin. The burns were much improved.

"Your hands do look much better," she noted approvingly.

"I accept that!" Chuckie replied, getting up from the sofa and returning to his work.

Tara glanced across the office, noting that the pile of boxes was gone. "What happened to the rest of your stash?"

"Bobby suggested I lock them in a storage room for safe keeping, so I did."

Tara nodded distractedly. She was growing concerned about Jax. What was taking the club so long to get back? She glanced outside at the prospects. They didn't seem worried about the patched members. 'So why do I have a bad feeling about this?'

Putlova turned slightly in his seat to glance behind him. An unmarked Crown Victoria was giving chase after his small convoy. A raucous siren blasted from the car, which had a red rotating bubble light on its' hood.

"Elude them!" Putlova snarled to his driver while he dialed the phone number of his lawyer.

The driver flashed his lights at the lead vehicle in the convoy, giving a pre - arranged signal to pick up speed. Both SUV's surged forward in an attempt to get away from the police vehicle. The Crown Victoria stayed right on Putlova's Cadillac's rear bumper.

"We're being chased by cops!" Putlova snarled harshly when the lawyer answered.

"Why?"

"SAMCRO!" Putlova spat.

"Can you be a little more specific?"

"They ratted us out to the Feds and paid for Jimmy with counterfeit bills sandwiched between real bills! The club gave Jimmy to the Feds, and now they're chasing us!"

"Then pull over."

Putlova glared at the pursuing police vehicle. "I pay you for bullshit advice like that?"

"The last thing you want to do is have a charge of resisting arrest tacked on. The Feds have no proof that you were paid for Jimmy O'Phelan," the lawyer explained patiently.

"We have the money!"

"So you have counterfeit money! That proves nothing. I'll have you out within two or three hours."

Putlova glared about him. He didn't like the idea of allowing the Feds to capture him. But he knew his lawyer was right. "All right," he replied reluctantly. "I am counting on you to have me home for dinner!"

He snapped the burner closed with an angry snort. "Pull over!" He growled.

The driver immediately complied. The lead vehicle complied just a few yards ahead.

"Attention drivers of both cars!" The announcement issued from a PA in the Crown Victoria. Agents poured out of the car, standing behind the doors for protection with their guns drawn.

"Turn off your engines and throw the keys out the passenger window!"

Both drivers quickly complied with the directive. Two sets of keys clattered to the asphalt.

"Occupants of both vehicles, put your hands up where we can see them! Any failure to comply will be taken as a hostile action!"

Putlova and his henchmen slowly raised their hands, making sure that their hands could be seen through the back windows.

The voice then directed each driver to get out of their vehicles, keeping their backs to the agents. One by one, the drivers were told to walk backwards until they were past the twin SUVs. Each driver then had to kneel, then lay on their stomachs with their hands stretched out from their bodies.

Once each driver complied, an agent rushed forward, frisked each driver, and handcuffed the drivers' hands behind their backs.

The Federal paddy wagon had pulled up by the time Pulova's driver was handcuffed. Two more agents joined their comrades. One agent opened the paddy wagon door and ushered the drivers inside.

"Stay seated," the agent barked.

Each of Putlova's henchmen were given the same treatment. When they ran out of handcuffs, the agents used zip ties to bind Putlova's men.

Finally, Putlova was forced to obey the same directives as his henchmen. He grunted once when his hands were placed behind his back. He grunted in protest again when two agents helped him to his knees, then his feet, but he said nothing to the Feds as they walked him to the paddy wagon and secured him and his henchmen with chains before shutting the door.

"We've got 'em!" Mendes called over the portable radio.

"What about the money?" Stahl replied tensely.

One of the other agents extracted the two duffel bags from Putlova's vehicle. He held them triumphantly up by the straps.

"We recovered it. Two duffel bags."

Stahl relaxed behind the wheel of her car. "Have the paddy wagon take Putlova and his men on to headquarters. Tell the driver to book them for trafficking and possession of counterfeit money for now. I'm sure we'll have more charges to add to it."

"Where do you want me and the rest of the team?"

"Get another paddy wagon and wait. I'm going after SAMCRO to get Jimmy O'Phelan and will text you to bring the paddy wagon and the team to Teller - Morrow."

'You sound awfully sure of yourself,' Mendes thought. Aloud he responded, "Will do."

"Sorry, Gemma. I know you're going to miss Clay and Jax when they go to prison. Unfortunately, Stockton is going to be off limits to you during your detention," Ally explained sorrowfully.

"Not even at Christmas? Their birthdays?" Gemma pleaded. "Clay's and my wedding anniversary?"

"I don't know, Hun. Let me see what I can do about those occasions. Maybe Christmas, but I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Gemma sighed in resignation. The lawyer's answer hadn't surprised her, but a small part of her had hoped for a miracle. 'Stahl will do something to keep that from happening! She enjoys making me miserable!'

"I'll start working on it first thing tomorrow," Ally promised, sensing her client's thoughts. "Stahl won't get her way if I can help it."

"Thanks," Gemma replied glumly. She gazed at the Charming town limits sign as they passed it. She was home, but she didn't feel at home. She wondered if she'd ever feel comfortable, much less safe, in her home.

The ATF regional director supported his head with his hands. His elbows were held up by the conference table. Agent Carey, his supervisor, and the US Attorney who had taken Gemma Morrow's statement at the hospital sat just as quietly though not as demonstratively.

The US Attorney was astounded by the discovery of Stahl's duplicity. 'This doesn't just affect Gemma Morrow's detention; we'll have to go back over every case Stahl has ever worked!' He sighed. 'That means a shit load of work!'

"Where's Stahl now?" The director asked at last, raising his head from his hands.

"Out in the field somewhere. We've been trying to raise her by radio, but her team's not responding," Carey replied.

"Bring her in. As of now, she's suspended without pay pending further investigation. Have Mendes take over her team," the director ordered.

"Once we bring her in, what then?" Carey's supervisor asked.

"At minimum, we're looking at filing a false report. There's also suspicion of the murder of Agent Tyler. That ought to be enough to keep her in custody for awhile," the director stated.

"I'm on it!" Carey announced, leaping to his feet and racing from the conference room.

Carey's supervisor shrugged and followed his agent.

The director let out an explosive sigh, gazing in sympathy at the US Attorney. "I don't envy you, man. This has to feel like you got hit in the gut with a lead pipe."

"More like a wrecking ball to the nuts. Looks like I'm going to be burning the midnight oil tonight," the US Attorney mused grimly. He stood up, gathering the file Carey and his supervisor had copied for him.

"I know what you mean. Carey's thorough, I'll give him that. He's got all the evidence we need in black and white."

"It's a good thing he recalled Stahl's report from the Galt shooting, and compared it to her claim about Tyler," the US Attorney observed. "I wonder if anyone else would've noticed the discrepancy."

The director shrugged. "It was chance that he assigned to the Tyler shooting. Anyone else wouldn't have been in a position to recognize the error like Carey."

"Not even you or one of your supervisors?"

"Do you know how many agent involved shootings I examine a week?" The director snapped. "On top of the other reports! It pains me to admit it, but I wouldn't have caught on that minor detail, and the reputation of a good agent would've been tarnished because of it."

Carey quietly gathered his own team, hand picked agents he trusted implicitly, to go after Stahl. "We'd best wear Kevlar. She's already killed one agent, once she realizes why we're after her, she's bound to try to take one or two of us out."

The agents glanced warily at each other as they prepared to go after one of their own. Arresting a fellow agent was the one thing any law enforcement officer dreaded most. It was especially difficult when that fellow officer was accused of murder. That person had nothing to lose and knew all the methods their pursuers used to entrap them.

"I know what you're thinking," Carey stated quietly. "I feel the same way. We can't allow Agent Stahl to continue to paint us in the same rotten color as herself. Let's bring her in alive and bring ourselves back the same way!"

James Windover glanced at the text message he'd just received. The story on Agent June Stahl was a 'go'. He took his copy of Tyler's letter and a mini cam out to the parking lot to shoot the few seconds of 'B' roll he'd promised Payne.

No one came around to find out what he was filming or why he was doing the filming in the first place. He took the time to call Payne about the Stahl portion of the Tyler story.

"It's a go," Payne observed before Windover had a chance to tell him. "You wouldn't be calling otherwise."

"I just got the confirmation. The ATF Internal Affairs is hunting her down as we speak," Windover acknowledged. "I recorded the 'B' roll, so it'll be ready to run from the studio when you do your stand up. You'll be live."

"Do you want me to report that they're looking for her?"

"I'll have to keep you posted, so keep the earplug handy. It's likely we won't know until the last minute," Windover explained.

"You're not going to break in with coverage right now?"

"No. That might tip off Stahl too soon. We're the only place with the story anyway, so there's no need to break into regular programming."

"The bean counters and promo department might not like it," Payne advised him.

"Tough shit. It's my call now. I say that we can afford to sit on it!"

"You're the boss!" Payne laughed dryly.

Stahl was livid when she reached the agreed upon meeting place with Jax Teller. Though her team had recovered all the money and Putlova and his cronies were in custody, she wasn't happy at being double crossed.

Jax fully expected the Fed to be displeased with the end result of mission. He laughed at Stahl's childish behavior in tooting her siren at him when she pulled up.

Their meeting was short and tense, with considerable verbal sparring on both sides. Stahl wanted to know where Jimmy was, since he wasn't in the van as Jax had promised.

"Jimmy's safe," he assured her. "After you loaned the money to me, it occurred to me that it might not be a good idea to leave Jimmy in the van," Jax explained. "Putlova has a reputation for being nasty when he's double crossed."

"Yeah, right," Stahl scoffed. "Where is Jimmy?"

"You'll get him when I have proof that the club is out of danger," Jax replied.

"Then we have a problem. I'm not willing to sign off on this without having Jimmy in custody," Stahl retorted, holding up a blue legal sized folder. It was similar to the one she'd given him that had held Gemma's statement about the Galt shooting.

"And that is?" Jax prompted.

"My recommendation that sentence for the weapons charges be reduced from 15 to 3 years. With good behavior, you'll be out in 14 months. All it needs is my signature."

Jax crossed his arms over his chest, gazing expectantly at her. He was waiting for Stahl to drop the other shoe and was willing to wait all day if necessary.

Stahl smirked, held up another blue folder, and extended it to Jax. "This is your statement of cooperation, detailing the Irish Mafia's and Jimmy O'Phelan's involvement in the NorCal gun running operation. All it needs is your signature."

Jax stared at the two folders. He really wanted to secure that recommendation, but he didn't want to give Stahl an easy win. Recalling their conversation earlier that day, and her betrayal of her own partner, Jax asked her how could he trust that she wouldn't tear up her part of the deal.

Stahl's smirk grew wider, reminding Jax of a shark rising from the ocean ready to make a meal out of an unsuspecting swimmer. Stahl countered with her own issues of trust in him. "After that little stunt you pulled earlier, how can I trust you not to kill our deal? I've come through several times for you, now it's time for you to reciprocate."

'She's got me by the short hairs on that one!' Jax mused wryly. He took the statement from her and turned to the back page. There was a long line above his printed name for his signature. He accepted the pen she held out to him and scrawled his name along the bottom of the page. "I've now officially become a rat," he stated.

'And your club is soon going to know that!' Stahl thought maliciously, closing the folder containing Jax's signed statement. She didn't sign the recommendation. "Take me to Jimmy, then I'll sign."

Jax winced, but he had no choice but to agreed. Stahl had just tightened her grip on his short hairs. "Follow me," he shrugged, striding nonchalantly to his bike.

Stahl slid behind the steering wheel of her car and quickly entered a text to Mendes' phone. "Mt me Teller - Morrow. Bring team & paddy wagon. JO is there. We're bringing him and SAMCRO in 2day."

Tara looked up as a line of Harleys roared into the compound. Everyone was present except for Jax. She rushed up to Clay as he dismounted from his bike. "Where's Jax?"

"He'll be along shortly," Clay assured her. "He had to run an errand."

Tig was shaking from adrenaline. He needed the calm that it seemed only his woman could give him after a harrowing run like they'd just had. Some of those bullets had come a little too close to him. He glanced at Juice and muttered, "Give me some space, will ya?"

Juice nodded and moved discreetly away from the line of bikes. The rest of the club were congratulating themselves on a job well done. It was just a matter of time before they had to play out the last act.

Tig dug the two - way out of his pocket and activated it. 'Good thing I didn't leave this behind after all! I'd feel funny usin' the office or club phone for this!'

Cat fought her way out of a nightmare in response to the insistent ringing of the two - way. Dark, gloomy images of Alex being pursued by shadowy evil forces had plagued her rest the moment she'd entered the REM state. She fumbled for the two - way and finally managed to get it open. "Hey!" She croaked sleepily, panting from the effort it took to wake up.

Alex frowned at the breathless, nearly panicked tone in her sleep thickened voice. "Hey back, baby. You a'right?"

Cat cleared her throat and gazed about the security of her familiar bedroom. The stereo was playing 'The Night Chicago Died' from her 'Story Songs from the 70's' tape. She could tell from the hallway and the absence of the cats that it was still daytime. "Yeah," she assured him, her voice less panic stricken. "Just had a bad dream."

"No wonder when you're listenin' to that shit while you're sleepin'!" He snorted.

"Shut up or I'll make y'all listen to 'Billy Don't Be a Hero'!" She growled.

"Hell, no! I'll hang up first!" He threatened.

"Yeah, right! And if I believe that, y'all have desert land in Florida's Everglades to sell at a cheap price!" She retorted.

"Sounds like a great investment to me!"

'The mission must've been more harrowing than he's willin' to admit; he's full of piss and vinegar!' She smiled at his banter, though it didn't fool her. "Are y'all OK, love?"

"Is that what the bad dream was about?"

"More or less," she admitted. His voice sounded huskier than normal. She hadn't heard that particular note in his voice since she'd come out of the coma after the wreck.

"That doesn't sound like ya have much confidence in me!" He retorted, forcing a light, bantering note in his voice.

"Y'all know better than that," she replied.

"You're s'posed to have good, naughty dreams about me!"

"Good and naughty don't go together well, love," she countered.

"So if the music didn't cause nightmares, did ya take too many pain meds?"

"Didn't take any. Might've been all the excitement from gettin' the Challenger."

"Ya sure?"

"Quite, love. The sleepin' mind can do some weird stuff at times," she stated firmly.

"Yeah. You've got an active imagination!" He retorted.

"Hello, pot? Meet kettle!" She laughed. "At least my imagination doesn't run in the X rated category!"

"I'm consistent."

"Try predicable! You, my love, have a one track mind!"

"Ha! Got ya to admit I've got one!"

"So is everything done?" She asked in a hopeful tone.

"The worst of it's behind us," he admitted. "It's still gonna be a late night."

"So what else is new?" She replied. "I'll be here waitin'."

'That means more to me than you can ever know,' he thought, wincing at the sound of Jax's Harley approaching the compound. He didn't have much time left with her, as usual. "You'd better be!" He growled instead.

'Somethin' must've gone knockers up during the mission. This isn't like him at all!' Cat frowned. "Alex, are you certain y'all are OK? Anything I can do to help?"

'You already did, baby!' He cleared his throat and stated airily, "Just wanted to check in, baby. Make sure ya weren't out gettin' into mischief."

"The day's still young, sport!" She taunted lightly. "Thanks for remindin' me!"

"When am I gonna learn?" He groaned. His heart ached from their by - play. It felt so normal, like any other phone call between them. He felt calmer just from teasing her and getting teased back. He sighed in resignation as Jax's Harley grew closer. "Lissen, baby. I've gotta go."

"I'm not surprised!" She laughed. "I'll see ya when I see ya, love!" She turned off the two - way without giving him a chance to reply.

Tig stared at the silent two - way. He dismounted from his bike, unconsciously mimicking his wife's gesture of patting the Dyna on the tank. "See ya when I see ya, baby," he murmured before he strode across the parking lot to join his brothers.

He handed the two - way to Chuckie. "Give that to Chibs when he gets back."

"Why?"

Tig glared at his friend and growled. "You'll soon find out."

Gemma rushed from the passenger seat of Ally's car the moment the lawyer stopped in a parking space at the compound. Concern was etched deeply in her face. 'Where's Jax?' She didn't see him or his bike!'

The roar of a Harley provided the answer. Jax's bike raced into the compound towards' its customary parking spot. Gemma's eyes widened with horror when she saw two Crown Victoria sedans and a Federal paddy wagon enter the compound right behind him.

'I've got a bad feeling about this!' Gemma moaned to herself.