Charming Pawse From NS to Out Chapter Chapter 11 Tornado

by wanderingchat

As Cat and her family try to accept their loss, Tig also wrestles with issues stemming from Blaine Marshall's death. Not all are sorrowful over the minister's passing, as yet another attempt on Cat's life is made by her nemesis.

No copyright infringement is intended.

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

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

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

Author's note: My apologizes to the readership for the seven month absence. A lot of things were going on in my life that took away from my writing time. Thanks for hanging in there.

---

Charming Pawse

From NS to Out

Chapter XI

Tornado

The shrill ring of his cell phone yanked Kozik out of a sound sleep. "Shit!" He moaned, rolling onto his back to grope for the annoying device on the night stand next to the bed. He put it there on the charger a few hours earlier before indulging in the pleasures Ima's body promised and delivered.

He hated moving away from Ima's warmth, but the burner kept ringing. Eyes still shut, his hand closed over the phone, opened it, and brought the receiver to his ear. "Kozik!" He growled through a voice thick with sleep. "This better be damn fuckin' good!"

Beside him, Ima stirred slightly and buried her head under the pillow. 'Club business,' she thought sleepily.

"'Tis, bro," Chibs' voice announced quietly. "Ye kin Ah wouldnae bawther ye this early."

"Then get the fuck on with it!" Kozik complained through a yawn.

'Why do I suddenly have a bad feeling about this?' Ima thought. A shiver moved up her spine as she rolled onto her back.

"Cat's Da is dead," Chibs announced mournfully. "Ah jest got tha' news frum Samchi's prez, Dope."

Kozik sat up straight, sleep driven away by the news. His eyes opened wide and blinked against the soft glow of the light they never got around to turning off. "Are ya shittin' me?"

Ima came fully awake from Kozik's exclaimation. The feeling of dread grew more intense and she shifted into a reclining position against the head of the bed. She pulled the covers up around her shoulders to ward off the chill.

Kozik slid an arm around her, drawing her closer to him. She didn't mind that he sensed her fear and was offering as much comfort as he could at the moment.

"Why did Dope call ya? Has something happened to Cat?" Kozik growled.

That alarmed Ima. She moved snuggled closer to him, her eyes wide with concern. He squeezed her reassuringly and rested her head against his shoulder. Ima remained quiet, holding her questions until he got done with the call.

'Thank God she's not the type to annoy me with questions at a time like this!' Koz thought to himself, glancing admiringly at her.

"Nay. Dope said she's a'right accordin' to his bhoys. Ah kin she's jest got thins on 'er mind. Dope's bhoys felt we needed ta know an' git tha' news ta Teeg."

Kozik breathed a sigh of relief. "That's a relief. You goin' to the pen later to tell him?"

"Aye."

"Then I'm comin' with," Kozik announced.

"Ah 'oped ye'd say that," Chibs replied. "Ah'm goin' oot ta 'Charmin' Pawse' after it opens ta tell 'er staff."

"Good idea. They need to know. They'll prolly take it better from you than anyone else."

"Aye."

"Lemme know when ya wanna head to Stockton," Kozik stated, flipping the burner closed. He tossed it on the nightstand and sighed heavily.

"It's Cat's dad, isn't it?" Ima inquired softly.

"Yeah," Kozik confirmed. "He's gone, baby."

"Cat's going to be devastated," she observed. "She told me she'd been preparing for the possibility for years, but you can never be ready to lose a loved one."

"True dat," Kozik replied. "Poor Kitty."

"Wht do you mean, lover?" Ima frowned.

"Well, she's pretty much on her own with Tig locked up," he explained.

"She's got a couple of step brothers that she's close to," She gently reminded him. "The one that works as a long haul trucker will probably race back to Vincennes the minute he gets the news."

"Glad she's got some family there," Kozik mused, running his hand up and down Ima's bare arm. "But she's only got the charter guys until he gets there. Isn't her step mom in a nursing home?"

Ima nodded. "Yes, but if the way the Rogue River charter feels about her is any indication, the Illinois group has probably grown just as fond of her."

"I hope so, baby," Kozik sighed.

"She's got a lot of support there, lover. Friends, blood family, step siblings, and even her former in laws," Ima reminded him.

"And she'll be home soon for us to help her."

Ima shook her head. "I wouldn't expect her back right away after the funeral."

"Why, baby? I'd think she'd wanna hightail it back here as soon as possible."

"You've never had to settle an estate, lover," Ima replied. "She's going to have to sort through her father's personal things and papers before she can come home. That's going to take time, even with the charters helping."

"How come you know so much about Cat's family business?" Kozik inquired half jokingly.

"It's a long drive to the Washington border, lover. We've talked about a lot of things on those gun runs," Ima informed him. "I like her. She doesn't look down her nose at me like that doctor bitch!"

"I'm glad of that. At least one of the club's women is on your side! But I thought you and Tara were gettin' along since we hooked up!" He protested.

Ima shook her head. "As long as we stay away from each other. That's why I don't come around the clubhouse. Even if I hadn't had that stupid crush on Jax, she would still look down at me because of the way I make a living."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kozik frowned.

"And cause more trouble?" Ima snorted. "I know my place in your world."

Kozik started to protest, but Ima stopped him by placing a gentle hand over his mouth. "It's all right, lover. I'm happier having you here, away from the clubhouse. It's much better that way."

Kozik nodded and placed a kiss against her palm before moving her hand from his mouth. "If ya ever change your mind-"

Ima sat forward a bit, still holding the bed covers about her chest. "Why don't we talk about something else."

"I can think of something I'd rather do than talk," Kozik grinned slyly.

"Take it easy, fella!" Ima laughed. "The night's still young." A thoughtful frown crossed her features for a moment, bringing Kozik's assault on her lips to a halt.

"What's the matter? Is it my breath?"

"No, lover. I was just thinking about Cat and the job ahead of her."

"Are ya thinking of going out there?" Kozik asked, his voice nearly cracking at the idea of being without her for awhile.

"I'd like to, but it might do more harm than good for her," Ima sighed.

"There's gotta be something we can do to let her know we care!" Kozik exclaimed. He wanted a cigarette, but respected his woman's wish to have a smoke free home. He didn't want to leave the bed just to indulge a craving for nicotine when there was something more satisfying right next to him.

"It's got to be hard for her, being so far from home," Ima added

"Whaddya mean, woman?" Kozik yelped incredulously. "She's from there for fuck's sake!"

"This is her home, now, lover. Her heart is here. And with Tig in jail, she's got to be feeling lost and alone."

Kozik shifted in the bed so he could face her. "Too bad we can't send a little bit of home to her."

Ima's eyes widened and she sat straight up, allowing the bed covers to fall to her waist. "That's it!" She exclaimed.

"Huh?"

Ima placed a quick, hard kiss to Kozik's lips before turning to grab her own cell phone from the night stand. "I'm going to order a couple of plane tickets for the red eye out of Las Vegas."

"Change your mind about goin' to Indiana, baby?" He asked. 'And who's gonna go with ya?'

Ima shook her head, scrolling through her contacts list for the airline she liked to use on her occasional travels. "Call Chibs, he knows Cat's employees. He'll know who to send to her."

"I get it!" Kozik's eyes widened with admiration and flashed with relief that she was staying put. "Good thinkin', baby!"

She flashed a smile at him and began making arrangements for the plane tickets. Kozik picked up his phone and pressed the quick dial button assigned to Chibs' burner.

---

Chuckie snorted and opened his eyes, staring in confusion at the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Relax, Chuckie. We're in the Las Vegas airport," Adrian assured him.

"Guess I fell asleep," he grinned apologetically, inching into a sitting position in the chair. He'd slid down until his head rested against the back and his nose pointed to the ceiling. He rubbed the back of his neck to ease the stiffness. "How long was I out?"

"Not too long," Adrian replied, pointing to the arrival/departure monitor nearby. "Our plane just pulled in."

Chuckie looked around the gate area. It was very early in the morning and none of the restaurants or kiosks were open. He was hungry and a bit thirsty from his nap. "Think I have time to get a drink of water?"

"That's about all you're going to find, buddy," Adrian replied. "I took a walk while you were napping and couldn't even find a vending machine."

"I accept that," Chuckie sighed. He stood up and his stomach growled.

"Doesn't sound like your stomach does!" Adrian laughed.

Chuckie patted his stomach and grinned with embarrassment. "Maybe we'll get fed on the plane," he remarked before trotting off in search of a water fountain.

"I wouldn't hold my breath," Adrian murmured. He'd read that many airlines had cut out meal services on long flights like the one they were taking. If meals were offered, the customer had to pay extra, and neither of them had a lot of cash, just what they had in their wallets and the amount Chibs had given them. 'If we're lucky, we'll get a snack on board. The restaurants will be open by the time we get to Chicago!'

He wished again that they could've stopped at the coffeehouse to pick up some snacks for the trip. Food was the last thing on his mind when Chibs called to tell him to get dressed and pack a bag. "Be shure ta include sumthin' sootable ta whare at a fooneral," the acting VP added.

Chibs' comment saddened Adrian. He had a good idea the club was sending him to Indiana to help his employer with her father's estate. He was ready and waiting outside his apartment building when the garage van pulled up.

Chuckie opened the side door to admit Adrian, who tossed his duffle on the floor behind the bench seat and climbed in. He was glad to have someone going along with him. He'd been nervous about riding all alone with the outlaw, though a young Oriental looking man was sitting in the front passenger seat.

"This is V-Lin, o'tha hangaroonds," Chibs murmured.

Adrian nodded a greeting at the passenger. "I've seen him at the coffeehouse a few times."

"'E's agreed to coom along fer tha' ryde."

"You're sending us to Miss Cat," Adrian announced.

"Aye," Chibs sighed. "'Er Da died last night."

"I kinda figured that from your instructions. It still sucks, but what made you decided to call me?" Adrian inquired.

Chibs glanced into the rear view mirror at his passenger, then back to the dark road ahead. "Ah called Pete. 'E suggested ye. Chuckie 'as bin stayin' at tha' cloobhowse, so Ah volunteered 'im."

"I'm happy to help Miss Cat," Chuckie added through a yawn. He was excited by the trip and saddened by the news about his friend's father passing away.

"Where are we going?" Adrian asked as Chibs piloted the van in a westward direction. He'd expected they would be going to Stockton.

"Ah'm taken ye ta tha' Las Vegas airpurt," he explained. "Tickets aire waitin' fer ye at tha' coonter. Yer booked fer tha' red eye ta Chicago. Tha Stockton un isnae open yet."

"How is Miss Cat holding up?" Chuckie inquired.

"Ah dunno," Chibs admitted forlornly. "Tha' SAMCHI Prez called me wi' tha' noose."

"She's probably just tied up with making calls to family and other arrangements," Adrian assured him. "She's sure to give you a call once she's had a chance to take it all in."

"Aye."

The two young men and the hang around fell asleep during the trip. Chibs let them sleep until he pulled the van to a stop at the departure entrance to the airline. He reached under the visor and removed a manilla envelope that he passed back to Adrian.

"Tayke gud cair of this until ye get ta Vincennes," he instructed. "Tha' envelope 'as pictures Lady Cat may find useful."

Adrian nodded and stuffed the envelope into his bag. He wasn't about to ask how the outlaw had gotten into his employer's home. 'More than likely Cat or Mr. Tig gave him a key.'

V – lin passed a smaller envelope over the seat to Adrian. "A little travel money," he explained.

Adrian slipped the envelope into his shirt pocket and slid along the bench to join Chuckie on the sidewalk. The club's mascot had retrieved their bags from the back of the van.

"Be safe, lads," he stated before Adrian closed the side door. The pair waved as Chibs pulled away to return to Charming.

"Do you think Chibs and V-Lin will make it back ok?" Chuckie asked as he returned to his seat.

"I hope so. Guess he's used to long trips on little sleep when they ride," Adrian observed. "He also has that guy with him to keep him awake."

"V-lin. Yeah. Real quiet guy. Been hangin' around the clubhouse lately with another young guy," Chuckie replied. "I expect they want to become prospects."

"I wish them luck," Adrian shrugged.

"Being a member of the club isn't a bad thing," Chuckie pointed out.

"I didn't say it is!" Adrian protested.

"No offense taken, it just sounded like you didn't approve," Chuckie explained.

"The club's been good to Miss Cat, Chuckie, so it's okay with me. It's just not something I desire to be an active part of," Adrian explained.

"I accept that," Chuckie nodded. After a brief silence, he added, "The club is like a family to me, Adrian."

"Don't you have a family of your own?"

Chuckie shook his head. "My parents died a long time ago, but we never got along after I left high school. My - um - quirks were a little hard for them to take."

"Sorry to hear that," Adrian stated sympathetically.

"Fact is, nobody really liked me until Big Otto befriended me at Stockton. He kept me from getting beat up and shit. When I got out, he made arrangements for me to hook up with SAMCRO, but I fucked it up. They gave me a second chance, a job, and a place to live."

"Why didn't you take Miss Cat up on the job she offered you?"

"I planned to, then Half Sack got killed, Abel was kidnapped, and Gemma went on the lam. Miss Cat left the hospital and I wasn't needed at the coffeehouse."

"She's never taken you off the roster," Adrian remarked. "Pete says you're a big help with the prison concession."

Chuckie beamed at the compliment. "I do what I can."

"You do pretty good," Adrian grinned.

The attendant appeared at the desk for the gate that would lead them to the plane. They got up and presented their tickets to the agent. She clicked several keys, then returned the tickets to them with their seat assignments in the coach section. "We'll be boarding shortly," she informed them.

"It won't be long now, Chuckie," Adrian stated as they returned to their chairs to get their bags and stand in line at the gate.

Chuckie nodded and swallowed convulsively. His face was very pale. "Maybe it's a good thing I didn't eat," he moaned, placing his palm over his stomach.

"Have you ever been on a plane?"

"No. This is my first time," Chuckie admitted.

"Nothing to worry about. Most flights go very well, it's only the crashes that you hear about," Adrian reminded him.

"That's what has me worried," Chuckie moaned.

"I was going to let you sit next to the window, but if it's going to add to your distress -"

"It might make it easier for me," Chuckie interjected. "I'd kinda like to see what it's like."

"You might not see much," Adrian chuckled. "It's kinda dark right now."

"I accept that," Chuckie grinned. "But it will get lighter the farther East we go!" He clutched the armrest so tightly that the knuckles of his real fingers turned white during take off, but relaxed once the plane was safely in the air.

There weren't many passengers on the flight, so guest services went smoothly and fast. Both men accepted cups of complimentary coffee and tried to nibble on prepackaged Danish.

"Miss Cat's confections must've spoiled me," Adrian murmured. "This just doesn't taste as good."

"I accept that," Chuckie agreed vehemently. "The coffee tastes kinda flat."

"Have you been drinking the whiskey blend?"

"That's the only coffee the club lets me serve!" Chuckie admitted.

"No surprise there."

Much to their displeasure, they had to hustle from one end of Chicago's Metro airport to the other in order to make their connecting turboprop flight to Indianapolis. That left them no time to purchase any of the tempting foodstuffs to take with them.

"It's only an hour to Indianapolis from here. We can get something after we land," Adrian assured his companion as they settled into the smaller planes seats assigned to them.

Chuckie patted his growling stomach. "I hope so! All those tempting smells made me hungry!"

"I noticed." Adrian grinned.

"So do you think Chibs or one of the other club members will tell Pete about Cat's Dad?" Chuckie asked some moments later.

"Probably not; they'd feel it was Miss Cat's duty to do so. I'm off until tomorrow anyway, so they'll have to know by then," Adrian explained. He hoped he'd get to look over some of the more recent photos of Cat's father, he was itching to draw a portrait to hang in the memorial gallery with Half Sack's, David Hale's, and Lumpy Feldstein's portraits. 'He was as supportive of the coffeehouse as the club; always ordering over the phone. I liked talking to him!'

It didn't take long for the plane to take them from Chicago to Indianapolis. The minute they departed the plane, they headed straight to the closest food kiosk to satisfy their hunger.

Adrian used the time while they waited for their order to check his cell phone for messages. He found a text from his employer indicating she was waiting out front for them.

"Chibs must've given her the flight info!" Chuckie remarked. "It's nice of her to be waiting for us."

"Sure saves us cab fare!" Adrian laughed. He had stored his boss's Indianapolis address in his phone.

"Guess this is a walking meal," Chuckie observed, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and grabbing his order.

Adrian picked up his order and the two walked to the arrival pick up area, munching their food as they passed through the terminal.

"Did Miss Cat tell you what type of vehicle she's driving?" Chuckie inquired when they stepped out of the airport onto the sidewalk.

"No, she didn't," Adrian moaned. Buses, cabs, and all manner of other vehicles pulled up to the exit to pick up new arrivals. He reached into his pocket to call his boss when Chuckie nudged him in the side.

"Here she comes now!" Chuckie pointed to a familiar figure rushing up to them.

"I accept that!" Adrian sighed in relief.

---

Tig was unusually silent during breakfast. He barely acknowled his brothers' greetings as they gathered around their usual table.

"Everything a'right, Tig?" Clay asked when his SAA didn't respond to one of Juice's more obnoxious comments.

"Huh?" Tig jumped as if he'd touched a live wire, nearly spilling his coffee into his untouched food. "I hope so," he grunted, draining the contents of his cup. "Gotta go."

He left the table before any of the club could get up and go with him. Clay nodded at Happy, who scampered after the SAA, falling into step beside him.

Clay watched the duo exit the cafeteria, then turned a menacing eye on Bobby. His stare demanded an explanation.

"He's been like that ever since he made last night after he got back from the pay phones," Bobby shrugged. He had gone along with Tig the previous evening, but didn't know what had transpired between the couple.

"Did they have a fallin' out?" Clay growled.

"Not that I could tell. He just looked really grim when he hung up. I couldn't even get a grunt outta him until lights out."

"Shit!" Clay rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. "That doesn't sound good. But if he didn't fight with Cat, what could be wrong?"

"Maybe it's her dad," Juice offered.

"Is that possible?" Clay didn't remove his stare from the club's secretary.

Bobby shook his head, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I couldn't tell ya for sure, brother. You know how he gets when he talks to her, keeps his voice down and only has attention for her."

"Yeah," Clay sighed. "Maybe Hap will be able to pry it out of him. We'll know more at lunch I suppose."

Happy wasn't any more successful at drawing Tig out of his funk than Bobby had been. "You hardly ate anything brother," he observed. "Eat too many Snicker Bar Muffins and spoil your appetite?"

"No," Tig grunted, keeping his gaze straight ahead.

"I know the food sucks around here, but you're gonna be ravenous by lunch!"

Tig snorted and continued walking.

"It's a little early to report to work, brother."

"Jesus, Hap! You're bein' a chatterbox!"

A guard appeared in front of them, causing them to halt their progress. Happy glared at the guard, who wasn't phased by the former Nomad's expression. "24601, come with me!"

"Where to?" Happy challenged.

"None of your business, unless you wanna do a week in the hole!" The guard snapped.

"It's a'right, Hap," Tig assured his friend. "I'll see ya later."

Happy shook his head in disbelief as Tig followed the guard without question. 'It's as if he was expectin' this!' He didn't move from the spot where Tig left him, watching as the pair journeyed towards the visitors area. A chill ran down Happy's spine. 'I've got a bad feelin' about this!'

---

Tig wasn't surprised by the guard's appearance nor by the summons to follow him. He had been expecting such a summons since the wake up bell went off. Even though the visiting area had just opened and it wasn't the club's usual visiting day, he knew why he was being led there. He didn't know who would be delivering the bad news. 'Hell, there's only two possibilities, either Lowen or one of the guys,' he mused. 'I'll know soon enough.' He didn't relax until Chibs and Kozik entered the visiting room. Their somber expressions confirmed what he'd dreaded all night long.

"Blaine's dead," he stated flatly as the two outlaws settled onto seats opposite him.

"Aye," Chibs replied sadly. "SAMCHI's Prez delivered the news. Cat's Da wint peaceful. 'E nevah regained consciousness."

"Shit!" Tig sighed wearily, scrubbing his face with his hands. "How's my girl holding up?"

"Dunno, Tig. E' didnae say."

"We haven't heard from her either, Tiggy," Kozik added.

"Ah'm surry, brutha. Ah kin tell it 'urts ye."

"But ya don't look too surprised," Kozik observed.

Tig swallowed hard to clear a lump in his throat. "I was talkin' to Cat when one of the Illinois charters interrupted us. I heard him tell her Blaine was doin' worse. She didn't hang up on me, and I heard the doctor tell her he was failin' before the line went dead," he explained brokenly.

"You act like you liked the guy," Kozik stated.

"I did," Tig replied quietly before Chibs could draw breath to admonish his companion. "Blaine accepted me the minute we met."

"'E didnae kin yer true background," Chibs observed.

"Nah. Cat glossed over the club shit."

"And he just bought it?" Kozik asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Tig growled, giving his friend a menacing look. "Don't let that fool ya. He is – was – a pretty smart guy. If he didn't buy it, he was damn decent enough not to let on!"

"Aye, 'e soonds lyke a gud mon indeed. Mykes me wish Ah'd met 'im," Chibs replied.

"He is - was," Tig sighed, annoyed by his difficulty with tenses. He dropped his gazed to the table, then slammed both fists onto it in frustration. "Dammit to Hell! She needs me and as usual, I'm not able to be there for her!"

"Take it easy, Tig!" Kozik advised, waving away the guard that started to move their way in response to Tig's outburst. "We don't need the uniforms haulin' ya off to solitary!"

"She unnerstans tha sitchuaythun," Chibs added. Chibs reminded him. "She always 'as."

'Maybe she shouldn't have to,' Tig thought darkly. It wouldn't help to voice those thoughts to his brothers. 'They'd just put it down to grief talkin.'

"What makes you think you can't be there for her?" Kozik asked. "They let Big Otto out for LuAnn's funeral! You're in for far less serious shit than he's done."

"Aire ye daft, boy?" Chibs groaned.

"Think about it, Koz! There's no way in Hell the DOC is gonna let me travel to Indiana, no matter how much money is put up!" Tig snarled at the same time.

Kozik hit his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh, shit! I forgot!"

"I wish Cat didn't have to deal with this alone," Tig sighed.

"The charters are with her," Kozik pointed out. "SAMCHI's Prez said the guys won't leave until she's ready to head home."

"That's not what I meant," Tig growled in frustration.

"'Tis a'ready 'andled brutha," Chibs stated. "Chuckie an' Adrian should be thair by noo."

Tig's shoulders straightened slightly. "How the fuck did the club manage that?"

"My old lady provided the airfare. They left on the the red eye," Kozik replied. "They'll stay close to her and bring her home safe."

"Aye," Chibs added. "Ifn tha' arsehole gits werd o' Cat's Da passin', e's lykely ta cause 'er trooble. Between tha' charters an' tha' bhoys, she shuld be sayfe."

Tig scrubbed his face with his hands to cover his amazement. There was no mistaking the telltale shine in his eyes. "That's damn decent of Ima! Thank her for me, Koz."

"Be my pleasure!" Kozik grinned slyly, He sobered at the glare his quip earned from his brothers. "Sorry. I'll tell ya this, Tiggy; My girl thinks Cat's decent people. She wanted to do somethin' for her on account your old lady treats mine like a person – unlike the VP's old lady!"

"Tara has kinda had good reason to dislike Ima," Tig pointed out reasonably. He still had his doubts about the VP, despite Jax's successful plan to get even with Stahl. Tig was loyal to Clay first and it still rankled that the VP had openly questioned Clay's leadership of the club a few months ago. It was going to take awhile for Tig to trust Jax as he had before. He shoved those feelings aside as he added, "They were rivals for Jax."

Koz snorted in derision. "She's with me now. Tara needs to quit bein' jealous." Kozik would never forgive Jax for using his old lady's affections. He just wasn't going to allow his personal feelings on the matter affect his involvement in club business.

"Aire ye gonna be a'right, brutha?" Chibs asked worriedly, deciding it best to change the subject.

"It's not like I've got much choice," Tig pointed out.

"Aye," Chibs sighed.

"Guess hearin' that shit made for a long night for ya," Kozik sympathized.

"It was prolly worse for her," Tig remarked. "Glad ya sent the guys to help her."

"It was the least we could do," Kozik shrugged.

"Wish't coulda bin muir," Chibs added.

"It's enough," Tig replied softly. 'One Hell of a lot more than I can do!'

"I know what you're thinkin', Tiggy. Don't beat yourself up. Cat's gonna be countin' on you when you call tonight," Kozik observed.

"I know," Tig stated. He stretched his arms across the table to his brothers, who instantly clasped his hands in both of their own. "Thanks for comin' to confirm the news, guys."

"Aire ye goin' ta tell tha' bhoys?" Chibs inquired.

"Yeah. Prolly after lunch."

"Why wait?" Kozik asked.

"It's hard enough to eat what passes as food here without havin' that shit on their minds!" Tig snorted.

Kozik nodded wisely. While not familiar with Stockton's cafeteria fare, he was well aware that institutional food tended to have a universal lack of appeal.

"Let us know what else we can do for ya, brother," Kozik replied softly as he and Chibs rose from the table.

"You've a'ready done a lot more than I could've dreamed," Tig replied.

---

Mrs. York rushed around her desk to enfold her friend in a fierce hug. It saddened her to learn she was losing tenants, but the news about Cat's father was more upsetting. "I'm so sorry, honey! Is there anything I can do?"

Cat returned the hug before falling into the chair across the desk from Mrs. York's. "No. The guys and I will be leavin' this afternoon. I've got to get to Vincennes and start puttin' things in motion."

Mrs. York returned to her chair, gazing sorrowfully at her friend. "I really liked your father when we met at your wedding to Bill. He was still going to the IU Classic back then, and we'd always meet at half time to catch up."

"He always looked forward to that," Cat smiled wistfully at the memory.

"He was really interested in my prison ministry. I really appreciated his prayers and the financial support."

"He had a lot of good things to say about y'all, Mrs. York," Cat admitted. "It amazed him that you put so much time and effort into the community when most landlords would just sit back and collect rent."

The other woman flushed from the compliment. "Do you have a date for the service?"

"Not yet. Some of Daddy's family needs time to get there. Things are in a state of flux," Cat replied.

"Reminds me of something Blaine liked to say," Mrs. York remarked. "'Nothing like having your feet planted firmly in mid air'!"

"Exactly!" Cat smiled slightly.

Mrs. York wasn't blind to the fact that the smile didn't reach her eyes. They were glistening with tears and reflected her friend's inner grief and pain.

Mrs. York's heart ached for her former tenant and long time friend. 'There's a saying about the Lord not putting more on us than we can handle, but I wonder if this is one of those times when He has more faith in Cat than He should!' She shook her head and turned her attention to the computer screen on her desk. "I won't hold you to the remainder of the week on either apartment, given the circumstances."

"The rest of the guys are cleanin' up as we speak!" Cat acknowledged.

"If you can give me a moment, I'll cut a refund check."

Cat raised her hand in protest. "In all fairness to you, I'd rather y'all keep it."

"It won't take long to rent out again, honey," Mrs. York assured her. "Downtown rentals are in high demand these days. I have a waiting list for those two units. They'll be filled by nightfall."

"That may be, but y'all are still tryin' to make a livin'!" Cat retorted. "You're entitled to the remainin' rent, and y'all are keepin' it!"

"At least accept the security deposits back!" Mrs. York protested.

Cat shook her head. "Consider it a donation from Daddy for the prison ministry or the youth center."

Mrs. York decided not to press the issue. She didn't want to upset her friend. "Will your friends be going back to their homes?"

"No, they're stayin' with me," Cat sighed, hauling herself out of the chair. She felt like she was carrying the weight of the world on her back and shoulders, making every movement difficult. "They were pretty adamant about it."

She didn't add that they were intent on protecting her from the menace that 'Brownie' represented. 'There's no reason to burden her with somethin' that's never goin' to affect her. Thank God the fucktard never knew where I was stayin'!'

"Let me know the date for the funeral. I'll be there," Mrs. York assured her.

"I'll probably post it on my personal Facebook account," Cat murmured.

"Are you going to be all right?"

"No," Cat sighed as she trudged to the door. "And it's goin' to be a long time before I'll be all right again." Once outside the office she added, "If ever."

Mrs. York watched her friend's exit, then picked up her address book where she kept certain telephone numbers for her residents. She found what she was looking for, dialed, and waited for an answer.

"I'd like to speak with Dr. Pinkerton, please. Tell her it's Mrs. York calling on behalf of her patient, Cat Marshall. Her father died last night and I'm very worried about her."

---

Tig's guard stood silently in the doorway of the visiting area, witnessing the visit between the prisoner and his visitors who were members of the same motorcycle club the prisoner belonged to. He wasn't listening in to the conversation, he was just there to maintain order and make sure no contraband was passed from the visitors to the prisoner. Monitoring equipment picked up all conversations, even those that were whispered.

The visit seemed to go well until the prisoner suddenly banged his fists on the tabletop. The guard started to move forward but a wave from the dirty blonde headed visitor froze him in his tracks. He nodded and resumed his 'at ease' stance. 'Must've gotten some bad news, though he didn't seem too shocked by it. His friends seem more upset than he is.'

This guard wasn't on SAMCRO's payroll. He was under orders from the incarcerated Mayans MC to help protect the Charming men. He could tell whatever the visitors had told the prisoner had upset him greatly. The prisoner remained seated at the for several minutes after the visitors left. His head bowed and resting on his folded hands on the table. The guard couldn't be sure, but it looked like the prisoner's shoulders and back were shaking. 'Must've been really bad news. Men here don't act like that unless someone close to 'em died.'

Normally, the guard would snarl a warning for the prisoner to get out of the visiting area. The fact that the prisoner was grieving stirred a sympathetic nerve in the guard. He allowed the prisoner a few moments to compose himself.

Eventually, Tig sat up straight, his face a mask of stone. He stood up and stepped away from the table to joini the guard in the hallway.

The guard didn't speak as he and Tig walked away from the visiting area. Tig welcomed the silence. He didn't trust his temper not to erupt if the guard insulted him as most of them tended to do. Though Clay had warned them to play it safe around the guards after their two week stay in solitary, Tig's temper was stretched to the breaking point. If the guard tormented him, he would strike out, which wouldn't help the club since this guard was on the Mayans payroll. The last thing Tig wanted to do was jeopardize the shaky alliance that kept the club safe, so he was justifiably surprised and suspicious when the guard stopped at the entrance to the pay phone bank. "You wanna call your woman?"

Tig glanced out the side of his eye at the guard. "What's it gonna cost me?"

"Nothin'," the guard shrugged. "Just thought you might need to reach out to your wife."

"You heard us?" Tig growled menacingly.

"No," the guard admitted. "Didn't have to. Your brothers were upset about the news they delivered. You seemed to anticipate what they told you. An observer doesn't have to be a genius to figure out you got some really bad news."

"The worse a guy can get about family," Tig confirmed.

"I'm sorry, man. Go ahead and make your call," the guard offered, indicating the vacant bank of pay phones a few feet down the hall from where they were standing.

"Thanks," Tig grunted over his shoulder as he ambled to the phone farthest from the entry.

"No problem," the guard murmured. "We have families, too."

Tig picked up the receiver and punched Cat's cell number into it. He waited impatiently for the system to process his phone card and put the call through.

"Please enjoy this ring tone while your call is connected," a cheerful operator's voice announced. Alex rolled his eyes towards the heavens, though he had to admit Lady Antebellum's 'I Need You Now ', was more pleasurable than ringing.

He winced as the lyrics flowed through the phone line. 'I know ya need me baby! There's nothin' I can do except give you a long distance shoulder to cry on!'

That turned out not to be an option; the call rolled into her voice mail. "Thanks for your call about Daddy. All I can tell you right now is services are pendin' in Vincennes. He went peacefully, and we can all rejoice that he's no longer in ill health. If you'll leave your name and phone number, I'll be sure to return your call when I can. If you're on Facebook with me, info will be posted there and on line in the Vincennes newspaper."

'Can't blame her for makin' it. She sounds exhausted. Prolly still asleep and left the phone turned off.' He closed his eyes in mute protest against the pain and sorrow in her voice. 'She must've recorded that last night,' he mused. He drew a shaky breath just as the beep sounded. "Hey, baby. I just found out about Blaine. I'm really sorry. He was a good man and I'll miss him. I'll call ya at the usual time tonight."

Alex's voice broke towards the end of the message. There was so much he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the right words to express his feelings. He felt guilty that he couldn't be with her when she needed him. 'I'm not gonna leave that kind of intel on a message!' He fumed to himself. 'It'd just upset her, and she's got enough on her shoulders without my guilt trip shit!' He hung up the phone and trudged back to the guard.

The prisoner's posture told the guard the call hadn't been successful. "Sorry, fella."

Tig shrugged. "I left her a message. I'll try again tonight."

"She's probably making arrangements," the guard replied soothingly.

"Yeah," Tig muttered. He was trying desperately to hold on to his own pain and sense of loss. He wanted to go back to his cell and grieve in peace. That also wasn't an option. He had to report to his work assignment.

The guard felt a rush of sympathy for the prisoner. "I'll talk to your supervisor and tell 'em what happened. Go on to your cell and grieve."

Tig stopped to stare in disbelief at the guard. "Why are ya doin' this?"

The guard looked Tig directly in the eye. "You lost a family member, dude. You aren't gonna be any good on the job in your condition. No sense risking an unnecessary injury."

Tig searched the guard's face for any sign of duplicity on his part. After several moments, he nodded in gratitude and turned towards the cell block and the relative privacy of his cell. Genuine acts of kindness like the guard's were extremely rare in prison and not something to be taken lightly.

Tig stepped into the empty cell he shared with Bobby, relieved to have some precious time to himself. The entire cell block was deserted; all the inmates were busy performing their assigned tasks. "Shit, I'm exhausted!" He sighed, climbing onto his bunk and stretching out. He yawned and clasped his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling just a few feet above his nose.

---

Happy remained standing where Tig and the guard left him until he knew the SAA was safe. 'They're goin' into the visiting room. Who'd be wantin' to see him this early?'

Happy didn't waste time pondering matters that didn't have a ready answer. He needed to report this situation to Clay post haste. He found the Prez, along the remainder of the club, clustered around their table in the cafeteria and tersely informed him of what he'd seen. A look passed between Bobby and Clay.

"OK, boys. I need to talk privately with Hap. Go on about your business," Clay announced.

The rest of the club glanced at Happy, then back at their Prez. "I've got dishes to do anyway," Jax remarked, slipping from the table. The other men followed his lead, walking past Happy without speaking. Clay motioned Happy to join him at the table. "What's goin on?"

"Not sure. Tig wasn't talkin'. Neither was the Mayans' guard that waylaid him."

Clay's eyes narrowed in suspicion. None of the Mayans had told him about this.

"Tig went along without protest. It was as if he expected someone would be comin' for him this mornin'. He went to the visitin' room," Happy continued. "I came right back to let ya know what was goin' on."

"I imagine it's Lowen or one of the club with intel about Cat's dad," Clay remarked gruffly. "I don't think Tig's gettin' good news."

"Maybe that's why he's been so quiet," Happy observed. "Strange, but I never thought Tig had it in him."

"You'd be surprised what love can do, Hap," Clay remarked.

"Maybe," Happy shrugged. "Don't think there's a woman out there I can tolerate for any length of time without killin' her. Guess no woman could tolerate me for long, either. Croweaters and porn stars are about all I can take. Fuck 'em and leave 'em behind without a backward glance."

"That's the easy way out," Clay grinned.

"Safe," Happy growled. "Women are too complicated to get involved full time with just one."

"They may be complicated, but when ya find the right one, it's worth it," Clay snorted, rising from his chair to head off to his work detail. Whatever was going on with Tig, he hoped to get answers at lunch.

---

Tig barely made it onto his bunk. His eyelids felt as heavy as iron. He'd spent most of the night lying awake thinking over his relationship with Cat's father, and how different that had been from the one he'd had with Colleen's. Those memories alternated with concern over his wife's reaction to her loss. 'They might've had disagreements and rough patches over the years, but they were close. They had the relationship I should've had with my girls,' he mused during the early morning hours. 'Blaine definitely loved her. I don't doubt he was proud of the woman she'd become. She's gotta be devastated by this. I know it'd kill me if I lost one of my daughters.'

But the loss of a child was nothing like the loss of a parent. It was the only event Tig could think of that came anywhere close to what his wife was going through. He had no illusions about how he'd feel about the death of his father. 'Hell, I haven't seen 'em for years. He and the old lady want nothin' to do with him, and I'm just as happy to return the favor!' He snorted. 'Maybe havin' a shitty childhood was what made me decide to marry Colleen,' he'd mused. 'I hoped her family would give me what mine wouldn't. I was dead wrong on that one!'

That thought led him to compare his relationship with Blaine Marshall to the one he'd had with Colleen's father. The differences between the men was as obvious as the difference between night and day. Blaine Marshall and Colleen's father were like apples and oranges, Blaine had been openly friendly where Colleen's father had been closed and remote, caring only about himself.

His relationship with Colleen's father had never been good. Colleen's relationship with him was precarious at best. He only came around when he needed money to get him out of a gambling mess. That's when he would call Colleen at all hours of the day and night, begging and pleading for help she couldn't give. Whenever she would turn him down, he'd show up at the house, pounding on the door and threatening her with bodily harm until she gave in and emptied the joint bank account.

'Colleen didn't tell me about her father's problems when we married. She just went ahead and gave him what he needed without askin' me. The fucker knew better than to show up when I was around; I'd have killed him!'

Colleen couldn't hide the empty bank account from him for long. She tearfully confessed to him when he came home from the club. Tig had wanted to go find the old man right away, but Colleen had begged him not to go after her father because he'd take it out on her. He'd reluctantly given in to his wife's request.

Then came the day he walked in on a volatile confrontation between Colleen and her father. It was the first time Tig met him, and he wasn't impressed with the bloated, ham - fisted bully.

'Colleen was terrified of him because he'd beaten her for years just because he could. And people think I'm nuts!' Colleen was crumpled on the floor of their living room, her father standing over her with his fists clenched at his sides. Colleen was holding a hand to her cheek and crying from pain.

Tig didn't waste time with asking questions. Colleen had shown him a few pictures of her father, so he knew the bully's identity. He stormed up to the man, applied a solid knee to his soft gut, then followed it with an uppercut to his jaw.

The blow sent Colleen's father staggering backward, arms flailing in an unsuccessful attempt to keep his balance. He fell onto the floor, landing on his ample ass, glaring up at his son - in law.

Tig helped his wife rise from the floor and sent her to the bathroom to clean up. "Don't worry, baby. I've got this," he growled.

As soon as the door closed behind Colleen, Tig withdrew his long blade from his side and advanced menacingly on his father in law. He smirked as the bully crab walked on his hands and butt across the room, attempting to get away from the advancing menace. Colleen's father backed himself into a corner and Tig stood right in front of him, blocking off any escape.

"Listen to me and listen to me good, old man," he stated coldly, his voice a low growl of menace. He placed his blade against the man's neck to emphasize his threat. "I'm only gonna say this once. If you ever bother Colleen again by phone or by comin' around, I'll dismember you and throw your worthless, bloated body parts in the ocean!"

Tig pressed the sharp end of the blade firmly against the man's fleshy neck, careful not to draw blood. He wanted to scare the man, not kill him. Yet.

Colleen's father stared up at him in fright, but there was a glint of belligerent anger in his eyes as well. "You and what army, punk?"

Tig took a couple of steps back and removed his cut, turning it so that the Reaper was visible to the cowardly bully. "This army, asshole!"

Colleen's father's eyes widened in horror at the sight of the Reaper. The Sons of Anarchy was well known in the Sanwa area. His daughter's husband was a patched member, and that meant he was now on the club's radar.

"I get the message," he muttered angrily.

"Now get the fuck out of my house, and don't come back!" Tig snarled, stepping aside so the man could leave. He returned the knife to his side holster, but maintained a ready stance in case the coward tried to make one last stand.

Colleen's father scrambled to his feet, emitting a loud fart during the effort. As soon as he was upright, he scampered to the front door without looking back.

'Colleen was pretty grateful at the time,' Tig recalled to himself. 'She never heard from him during the remainder of our marriage. We didn't even tell him about the girls. He would've been a disappointment to them.'

He had no idea if Colleen's father made contact with her after their divorce, and he had no interest in knowing. If he'd reached out to the girls, they'd not told him about it, which was probably just as well. It was the unpleasant experience with Colleen's father that made him uncomfortable with the idea of meeting Cat's father decades later.

"Daddy's a great guy. You'll like him because he's into sports, military history, and Mopar," Cat assured him on the drive from Terre Haute to Vincennes.

"But he's also a Bible thumper, baby. My bein' an outlaw biker won't sit well with him," Alex pointed out.

"He doesn't know you're an outlaw biker and we're not goin' to tell him!"

"What the fuck are ya gonna tell him? That I'm a door to door salesman?"

"Hardly," she grinned. "You don't look that sleazy!"

"Watch it, woman!" He growled teasingly.

"I am," she grinned slyly, glancing at his lap.

"You're gonna pay for that, woman!" He sneered.

"Yeah, right! So far, y'all have been all talk and no action!"

Alex waggled his eyebrows at her and pulled the rented PT convertible onto a country road off the highway.

"What are y'all doin'!" Cat exclaimed, though she had a good idea and her heart raced with anticipation.

"Just wait, woman!" He growled, searching for a deserted area that would do for his purposes.

"I know what y'all are thinkin' of doin', and it's about damn time you got off this enforced abstinence kick!" She grinned. "I just wish you'd decided on that when we were at the hotel."

"Shit!" He pounded the steering wheel in frustration, braked, and turned into a nearby driveway. He threw the gearshift into reverse and backed out of the drive, retracing the route he'd taken from the highway.

"Should've kept my mouth shut," Cat grumbled.

"No, I'm glad ya reminded me," Alex sighed. "That bite mark I gave ya the night Donna died isn't healed yet."

"How do you know when you've not looked at it or touched it?" She remarked huffily.

"Trust me, baby. I know," he stated regretfully.

Cat shrugged back her disappointment with an effort. "I told y'all it doesn't hurt! Why are you punishin' both of us for that night?"

Alex shrugged but didn't give answer. He couldn't tell her what he'd done for fear she'd leave him for good.

'She did find out that I killed Donna, thanks to those 'shrooms of the Wahewa's. She chose to stay.' Tig reminded himself. "That's when I knew I could trust her with everything goin' on with me."

Once the rented PT convertible was back on the highway, Alex stated, "Seriously, baby. How are we gonna explain me to your straight-laced father? He's gonna know just by lookin' at me that I'm a biker."

"Already covered, love. I told him that you're a Harley enthusiast who owns his own bike and rides with a bunch of mechanics who own and ride Harleys," she explained.

"That's never gone over very well," Alex pointed out. "It didn't fool Zobelle or the Feds."

"All y'all were wearin' your cuts when you tried it on Zobelle, and the Feds had your arrest records. Daddy's not connected with law enforcement, so it'll work this time," Cat assured him.

Alex frowned in thought. "Are ya sure? Your father doesn't sound like a gullible fella."

"He's not," Cat admitted. "He'll accept it because I'll make it believable. He won't go lookin' for answers he doesn't want."

'I hope you're right, baby," he sighed.

If Tig could've had his way, they would've stayed put in Terre Haute or gone back to Indianapolis instead of spending the rest of their vacation with his father-in-law. He found it difficult to refuse Cat's request to see her father, especially when he considered the man's deteriorating health.

"Cat kept assurin' me her father was nothin' like Colleen's old man, but it wasn't until I met him that I felt a'right with him.'

The minute they walked into the house, Alex found himself enfolded in a giant bear hug from the frail, white - haired minister. "I'm very happy to finally meet you, son!"

Alex stood in shock, arms lowered to his sides. This was no 'bro hug double back tap' like he was used to getting from his brothers or affiliated club members. This was a full, hard, manly hug that Alex often wished he'd received as a child from his parents. It communicated unconditional love and acceptance. After a few seconds, Tig's arms encircled Blaine's frail shoulders and he awkwardly patted the man's back a couple of times.

To his consternation, his wife was standing off to the side, grinning like the Cheshire Cat at his predicament. "I'd say he likes you, love."

"You think?" He mouthed to her over Blaine's shoulder.

"Why wouldn't I like the man you've married? He's making you happy!" Blaine laughed, releasing his hold on his new son - in - law.

"Sometimes I'm not very likable," Alex muttered.

"We all have those moments, son," Blaine assured him. "Including me."

"That's a little hard to believe!" Alex replied.

"Trust me, love. We had differences when I was growing up," Cat explained. "But we ain't killed each other yet!"

"I don't think Alex would find that reassuring, honey," her father scolded. "It never made me comfortable to hear Bill call your anniversary that!"

"It doesn't bother me, Rev. Marshall," Alex replied. He smiled slyly at Cat, who suddenly appeared interested in the artwork on the wall opposite her. "'We ain't killed each other yet', eh? I like that!"

Unaware of the wicked gleam in his new son in law's eyes, Rev. Marshall replied, "Just call me Blaine, son. Or Dad, whichever you feel comfortable with."

Tig sighed and turned over in the darkness. 'I never got comfortable enough to call him 'Dad', but he was the closest thing to it I ever had. I'm really going to miss him.'

He finally got to sleep a few hours before the alarm went off to announce the start of a new day. He felt out of sorts from the lack of sleep, but wasn't willing to tell his brothers what was bothering him until he had confirmation. The minute the guard had appeared, he knew that his worse fear was confirmed.

Tig's heart ached for his woman. He felt an incredible sense of loss for himself. He'd finally known the love of a parent for a child, but now it was gone. The love of his brothers, and the love his daughters had for him wasn't the same. Hot tears ran down the sides of his face into the pillow as he felt into an exhausted sleep.

It seemed like a few seconds had passed when the alarm announcing lunchtime snatched Tig from the grasp of a nightmare. He sat straight up in his bed, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling. Sweat poured down his face and the back of his neck and he was breathing heavily.

'Shit. It was just a dream!' He assured himself, struggling to get his breathe and heart rate under control. 'It seemed so fuckin' real!'

He slid from his bunk to run water in the stainless steel sink. Though the temperature was lukewarm, the splash of water in his face washed away the remnants of the nightmare, returning him to a physical state of normalcy.

Tig took a deep breath to calm himself before he ventured out of the cell and headed to the cafeteria. He was reluctant to join the club and didn't have much of an appetite, but he didn't want to worry them, either. 'If I don't show up, they'll worry that someone shanked me. Might as well make an appearance and keep 'em happy.'

---

Cavey accompanied Cat to the rental office, waiting outside on his Harley while she discussed terminating the lease on the apartments with Mrs. York. His brothers had stayed behind to clean both apartments in preparation for their departure.

"Pack any foodstuffs, beer, and any other shit for the trip. We'll need it in Vincennes," he reminded the group.

"We can't all stay at her father's house!" Mud Ball pointed out.

"No shit, Sherlock!" BZ growled. "I've got a call in to the Prez. We're gonna need some housing money. Likely there's some kinda 'no tell' motel we can stay in."

Cat appeared to handling her loss like a trooper as far as most of the charters could tell. Only BZ and Cavey believed otherwise. They were worried by her quiet demeanor and the slight droop in her shoulders, as if the weight of the world lay across her back.

"Do ya think she's in shock, Cavey?" BZ inquired while they were waited for Cat to exit her room that morning.

"I dunno, mate. She's too quiet."

"I noticed. I didn't hear a sound from her last night, dunno if she was lettin' it out into her pillow or not. She just shut the door when we got in and didn't come out until the coffee was ready."

"Did she say anything?"

BZ shook his head. "Just grabbed a cup of coffee and shut herself up in her room."

"I don't like it, BZ!" Cavey exclaimed. "It's like bein' around a shaken beer bottle that some fucktard's pointin' right at you before 'e opens it!"

"Good point," BZ grimaced. "I'm afraid it's gonna hit when we least expect it, and more than likely it's gonna come durin' the trip to Vincennes."

"That's not good," Cavey agreed. "She doesn't need to be drivin' on 'er own. When's 'er older brother due in?"

"Sometime this morning I think. He was making flight arrangements from Arizona to Indy last night," BZ explained. "I'm hopin' she'll wait long enough to pick him up. I don't want her drivin' on her own, either." BZ frowned as his burner vibrated against his leg, signaling an inbound call or text.

"It's not like one of us can leave a bike 'ere, even if Ron or Vic would be willin' to guard it," Cavey observed as BZ dug his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen.

"I don't think that's gonna be a problem," BZ replied, glancing at his cell phone. "The Prez texted that Mother's sendin' a couple of her friends out. They took the red eye, so we need to pick 'em up from the airport pretty soon."

"I'll tell 'er we gotta go to the airport after she sees Mrs. York about the apartments," Cavey decided. "I'll make sure she hangs around to pick up her brother."

"Sounds like a plan. I didn't even think about reachin' out to Mother for help," BZ admitted sheepishly.

"That's why you're not the Prez," Cavey grinned. "Hope those employees are easy on the eyes!"

"If Mother sent 'em, it's best to keep hands off!" BZ warned.

"Doesn't mean a fella can't look!" Cavey grinned slyly.

Cavey shifted on the saddle, allowing his thoughts to return to the evening before last, after they'd returned from punishing 'Brownie' for his misdeeds against Blaine and Cat. Though the outlaws wanted to introduce the miscreant to 'Mr. Mayhem', Cat's father had been vehement that they not cause permanent harm.

"It was the last thing he asked of me," Cat sighed brokenly when she entered the lobby to inform him of Blaine's passing.

"I'm sorry, Kitten," Cavey replied sorrowfully.

Cat nodded acceptance of his condolence. "I'm goin' to stay with him until the funeral home people pick Daddy up. They're on their way, so it'll be a few more hours."

Her father's doctor stood solemnly behind her. He exchanged glances with Cavey, who looked a little pale from her announcement. "The nurses are preparing the – your father – for the trip," he explained, more for Cavey's benefit than Cat's. "The air conditioner will be running and set quite low. It's perfectly acceptable for her to wait with him if she wishes and can keep herself warm."

"Dont ya 'ave to do an autopsy?" Cavey inquired. The mere thought of the elderly man being taken to the morgue gave him the willies.

"No, son. The cause of death is obvious; between the cancer and his compromised immune system, he just couldn't fight the infection."

"I doubt that," Cat muttered darkly. "His concern over that fucktard that visited did him in!"

"We don't know that, Mrs. Trager," the doctor replied consolingly.

"I do! Daddy was really upset about it and wouldn't settle down until I assured him my friends would make sure that asshat left the area in one piece! When I returned to his room a few minutes later, he was unconscious!" She retorted angrily.

"The fact remains," the doctor continued patiently, "that the infection and his compromised immune system took his life. Not the visitor you speak of. That's what I'll be putting on the death certificate. Your father's upset over the visitor was just a minor contributing factor to his demise."

"All y'all are entitled to your opinion. I know what – or rather who - killed him," Cat muttered determinedly, turning away from the men to return to her father's room. "If all y'all need me, I'll be sittin' with Daddy and makin' the necessary calls to alert family."

The doctor was aware that it would be a few minutes before the nurses were finished with cleaning the patient's body and removing all the fluid lines. He opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when he felt Cavey's hand on his shoulder.

"Don't try to talk 'er outta it, Doc," he murmured. "She wants to be with 'im, no matter what shape the body's in."

A few hours later, the elevator doors opened to reveal a man wearing a dark suit. Cavey looked up from the television as the man pushed a stretcher ahead of him. 'That must be the guy from the funeral 'ome.' He followed the man to the nurse's station, just to make sure 'Brownie' wasn't trying to play another trick.

The stretcher bearer man asked for the room number where he could find Rev. Marshall, which confirmed his intention to Cavey. 'Thank Gawd 'e didn't bring a casket!' The idea of a casket rolling down the hallway sent shivers up and down his back.

Cat appeared in the lounge entry a few minutes later, carrying her electronics bag and a plastic hospital bag containing her father's few possessions. "The guy didn't want me in there while he preps Daddy for the trip," she explained, setting the bags on the couch next to Cavey. "I'm goin' to talk to the staff for a minute, then we can take off."

Her voice didn't hold it's usual light note, and he noticed the slump in her shoulders. 'That girl's behavin' as if she 'ad a part in 'er father's death!' He observed.

Cat returned to the lounge a few minutes later. Cavey jumped to his feet and grabbed the bags before she could touch them. "I've got this, Kitten," he stated. "Let a guy do somethin' nice for ya for once."

"Y'all already did, darlin'," she sighed. "But I'm too drained to argue with you."

The sound of the rental office door opening roused Cavey from his reverie. He gazed expectantly at Cat as she approached. "Everything a'right, Lady Cat?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "We're good with Mrs. York. I'm just goin' to sit in the car for a bit before we head for the airport."

"What route are we takin'?"

"I haven't decided yet. Just follow my lead when we leave," she replied before turning to the Chrysler.

Cavey watched her trudge to the vehicle, settle into the front seat, and lay her head against the steering wheel. He hoped she might finally be reacting to her loss. Upon closer examination, he realized that her body was still; no shoulder shaking to indicate she was indulging in grief. He sighed heavily and slumped against the bike's gas tank.

"I feel the same way, Mister-," a feminine voice stated beside him.

"Cavey. Just Cavey," he replied, turning slightly in the saddle so that his face was turned to the woman. "And you must be Mrs. York."

"I am. It's a pleasure to meet you, Cavey," she replied, holding her hand out to him.

The biker clasped her hand gently in his. "Sorry it 'as to be this way," he stated.

"So am I," Mrs. York sighed. "I'm worried about her."

"So are we."

Mrs. York shook her head and held out a slip of paper to the outlaw. "She needs to see her doctor; I called and made an appointment for her."

"Is she sick?" Cavey asked sharply.

"Not physically," Mrs. York replied softly, turning her gaze to her friend.

"I don't understand what you're gettin' at woman," Cavey snorted. "If she's not sick, why see the doctor?"

"She's depressed, Cavey." Mrs York held up her hand to stop his protest. "It's not just over losing her father. She's battled depression for a long time. Severe emotional trials like this makes it worse. Her doctor is aware of Blaine's death and wants to see her. The medication that helps her may need to be adjusted."

"Shit!" Cavey whistled through his teeth. "Oops! Sorry, ma'am," he added with a touch of embarrassment.

"No need to apologize, Cavey," Mrs. York smiled softly. "But if you want to make up for your verbal slip, please get her to her doctor."

"Oh yes I will!" He exclaimed vehemently. "Even if I have to duck tape 'er to the back of me bike!"

They were startled by the sound of the Chrysler's engine starting. "I hope it doesn't come to that," Mrs. York retorted.

"So do I," Cavey replied, adjusting his helmet and bending to turn the key in the ignition of his Harley. "'Cause I don't 'ave any duct tape on me!"

---

'Brownie' lay in Diane's large, comfortable bed with his arms crossed behind his head, gazing at the ceiling and mulling over his earlier encounter with the MC. His body ached from the beating the outlaws had given him, though the pain wasn't as intense as he'd anticipated. 'Soaking in that hot tub did a lot of good,' he observed 'Addin' hydrogen peroxide to the water apparently helped. None of the cuts look infected.'

He was relieved not to find any redness or warmth from the various cuts the outlaws had inflicted on him, including the family jewels, which he certainly didn't want to lose from a severe infection! 'At least it's still useable and should heal quickly!' He mused, gazing ruefully at his injured member. It was covered with several non stick gauze pads. 'Glad I didn't have to use any first aid tape. The poor thing's been abused enough!'

His thoughts turned to the people he blamed for his aches and pains, Cat Marshall and her father. Thanks to her and her biker friends, he didn't dare show any of his faces at the hospital again. Both the divinity student and the janitor disguises were compromised, and he doubted that his current disguise that he'd used at Diane's would fare much better.

'They're likely gonna be eye ballin' every man that steps onto that floor, includin' the damn doctors! I'm not about to open myself to more abuse at their hands!'

Staying away from the hospital meant that he couldn't torment Cat's father, which he had thoroughly enjoyed. 'Though I can still play like I'm his brother on the phone and get intel on his condition!' He reminded himself. 'Maybe it's better to leave him alone for awhile anyway. Raise both their hopes that I've given up so I can pounce when they're not watchin'!'

He grinned with evil satisfaction at the idea. Waiting just made the inevitable win that much sweeter, and he fully intended to win this time! The smile left his face at the sound of a discreet knock at the door. "Enter!" He called.

The door opened to reveal James, the houseboy, carrying a large silver tray covered by a silver dome. James didn't speak as he crossed the room to the desk and placed the tray on it. He turned as if to leave the room, but paused a moment to gaze in concern at the visitor. "How are you feeling, sir?"

'Brownie' was caught off guard by the inquiry. The houseboy had barely tolerated his presence in the penthouse. James usually favored the visitor with the hairy eyeball and heaps of disdain. "A little sore in places," he replied, quickly recovering from the unexpected concern shown him.

"Has sir reconsidered seeing a doctor?" James inquired. "If for no other reason than to rule out any internal injuries."

"Nah, just shallow cuts and a bunch of bruises. Nothin' that'll kill me. Why the sudden interest in my welfare? You generally treat me like a dust bunny," he grinned slyly.

"You're Miss Diane's guest, and your welfare is part of my job," the houseboy explained. "She would be quite distressed to learn you'd been injured and left to fend for yourself."

'Brownie's' sly grin widened. "I'll be sure to let Diane know that you were quite diligent in that area. Will she be comin' back this weekend?"

"No sir," James replied stiffly. He didn't appreciate being mocked and his tone of voice reflected that dislike. "Is there anything else?"

That'll be all, James,"

"As you wish sir," James replied stiffly, turning on his heel and departing the bedroom. The door closed with a quiet 'snick' that reflected the manservant's disapproval.

'Brownie's' smirk turned into a full smile of delight. 'I wish I could be a fly on the wall when his employers hold him accountable for the stuff I'm gonna take! That'll knock him down from his high horse!' He swept the bed covers aside and stood up to stretch, wincing slightly as his sore muscles protested.

He padded to the desk and lifted the tray cover to examine his breakfast. 'The old boy might not like me, but I can't complain about the food service!' He planned out his day as he ate. He had a few hours to kill before he had to get out of town at the outlaw's edict, but he had no intention of obeying it. 'Those fuckers never saw the pick up! Those asshats aren't gonna come around here to ask about me!'

He was further encouraged that the outlaws never saw the pickup. He would be able to use it to run around town as long as he stayed away from the hospital. He could continue using his current disguise without fear of discovery.

'I'll have plenty of time to prowl around here, and can keep tabs on the old fuck via phone!' He laughed nastily, recalling how superior the outlaws felt about beating him. 'I'm gettin' the last laugh!'

---

Cat trudged from the office entrance to Cavey's Harley. He sat up in preparation to head for the airport, but she held up her hand in a preventative move. "I'm not ready to leave yet, darlin'." Cavey told her of her employees' impending arrival before she'd entered Mrs. York's office.

"Everything go a'right in there?" Cavey asked worriedly.

"Yes, darlin'," she sighed. "It just took a lot out of me."

"Ya must've 'ad too much to drink last night," Cavey grinned.

"Probably should've skipped the anti anxiety pill. I don't think Jack and the pill are doin' me much good now," she yawned. "I'm goin' to sit in the car for a few minutes to regroup before we head to the airport."

She turned away from the biker and trudged to the driver's side of the Chrysler. She slid behind the wheel, closed the door, and lay her forehead against the steering wheel.

She was pleased with the outcome of the meeting with Mrs. York. Everything had gone as she's expected with vacating the two apartments. She felt good about donating the security deposits to her friend. She had no need for it thanks to the wrongful death settlement money Bill's parents had given her.

Despite the momentary lift the gesture gave her spirit, her spirit deflated into annoyance with the world in general and the Conference in particular. She couldn't understand how the world could continue along its' merry way when her's had been shattered to pieces.

'It doesn't help that the Conference hasn't gotten back with me about Daddy, and the office has been open for hours!' She complained. 'Bad enough no one could be bothered to pay a pastoral sick call, but to put off gettin' in contact with me about his death is unforgivable!'

She perceived the continued silence on the part of her father's employer as a snub. Plenty of people had managed to reach out to her after they learned of Blaine's passing. Her phone had been turned off during the meeting with Mrs. York, but the voice mail would've taken a message and the caller ID would've shown the missed call.

She felt hurt and angry on her father's behalf. It was making her head ache, which she didn't need on top of fatigue. 'No amount of caffeine in the world is goin' to get rid of this headache, but it won't hurt to get some on the way to the airport.'

She was looking forward to seeing her big brothers. Though Daniel and Jan were technically her step brothers, she felt as close to them as if they were blood relatives. She briefly wondered why Chibs hadn't called to tell her two of her staff were being sent to help out. Then she snorted a derisive laugh as she realized why he didn't. "He knew I'd argue against it so he just went ahead and did it. Typical alpha males!"

Though the addition of her two staff members would make her father's house a little crowded for a bit, she welcomed the gesture the mother charter had made. The chore of sorting through her father's personal papers and other possessions wouldn't take as long as it would've with just her and her brothers doing the work. She intended to get started on it as soon as she got to Vincennes.

"We'll be there to help with that too, Cat," BZ reminded her when she and Cavey returned to the apartment and announced her father's passing to the rest of the group. "When do ya wanna set out tomorrow?"

"As soon as Jan gets in and I settle the rental with Mrs. York. If I wait too long, it's just goin' to make the job harder than it needs to be."

The trio were sitting out on her front porch, discussing the game plan for the next day. Cavey and BZ were enjoying a cold beer when Cat surprised them with a request for a shot of Jack Daniels.

"You don't normally drink, kitten!" BZ exclaimed.

"This isn't a normal night, darlin'. It'll help, trust me."

BZ shook his head then went upstairs to retrieve the club's bottle of Jack and a Styrofoam cup. He watched in avid interest as she poured the amber liquid into the cup and hefted it in the bikers' direction. "Mazeltov, or bottoms up from right to left!"

The two outlaws lifted their beer bottles at her and chugged. To their surprise, she took a hefty swallow of the alcoholic beverage, instead of a lady like sip.

"Her eyes aren't waterin'!" BZ exclaimed approvingly.

"Just because I choose not to drink doesn't mean I don't know how!" Cat growled. She poured more of the liquid into the cup, but didn't throw it back like the first one. The second round was intended to be a sipped.

Their conversation was continually interrupted by condolence calls from her family and friends that had gotten the news. Her emotional burden grew heavier with each call. She'd yet to have a chance to fully process her father's death. Discussing it didn't get her any closer to that place. She finally recorded a voice mail for callers and turned off her iPhone. "I just can't do this any more!" She sighed.

"Won't ya miss another call from Tig?" Cavey asked.

Cat shook her head. "It's too late. The phones are turned off at a certain time."

"Whankers," Cavey muttered on Tig's behalf. Dopey, the SAMCHI prez, had been informed of the news and would get it to the mother charter. Unfortunately, Tig wouldn't get the sorrowful intel until the following day. 'Nothin' to be done to change it.'

"They mean well, kitten," BZ reminded her, motioning to her phone.

"I know, it's just hard to keep repeatin' the same thing," Cat replied brokenly, taking another sip from the cup. She'd hoped throwing back the first shot would have an immediate numbing affect. She wasn't at the 'comfortably numb' state. She wasn't even close to it yet. 'It's probably not a good idea to mix booze and the anti - anxiety medicine, but one time shouldn't make a difference!'

The light of day proved that hypothesis wrong. 'Maybe that's what has me so tired!' She straightened up in the seat and prepared to drive to the airport.

She didn't notice Mrs. York standing next to Cavey's bike when she checked the rear view for clearance to pull out of her parking spot. Nor did she realize that the Harley wasn't running. She entered the traffic lane, certain that Cavey would follow. Her attention was focused on finding coffee.

---

"Well, well, well! This is unexpected good news!" 'Brownie' crowed after calling the nurses' station on Blaine Marshall's hospital floor. "The old fuck is dead!" He grinned in delight, imagining Cat's reaction to the loss. 'She'll be headin' back to Vincennes. I need to hightail it outta town and get there myself. I'm gonna enjoy fuckin' with her mind!'

He knew he'd be unable to use the 'Evan' identity in Vincennes. Not after Cat had nosed around and thoroughly destroyed it when she uncovered his divinity student and janitorial disguises. 'Guess her experience as a reporter wasn't wasted. At least the disguise I used with Diane is still good. I'll just hafta stay away from campus so the bitch doesn't see me.'

Traveling reminded him that he needed to add to his fund stash. He searched Diane's suite for anything that was valuable as well as small, lightweight, and easy to pawn. One drawer in her massive closet revealed a treasure trove of gold chains and other jewelry.

'The chains will sell easy. None of the gold buyers are gonna be suspicious of 'em,' he thought while scooping each chain out of the drawer. He left the rings and other valuable gems. As tempting as they were, he knew the buyers would demand some kind of proof of ownership. He added a few plain gold bracelets to his hoard, knowing their simplicity wouldn't arouse anyone's suspicions. He also found a large number of small electronics – iPads, ereaders, and a couple of laptops that he could pawn for extra cash. He stuffed the booty in the bottom of his backpack.

James and the rest of the household staff weren't in evidence when he ventured out of Diane's suite. He slipped stealthily into Diane's parent's suite and conducted a thorough search. 'Brownie' made sure nothing was disturbed or misplaced and soon exited with several more gold trinkets and small electronics to add to his stash.

The study/office provided 'Brownie' with his greatest find; more than 100 leather folders stuffed with crisp $100 bills in an unlocked desk drawer. Each folder contained $1000. Grinning maliciously, he slipped a quarter of the folders into his shirt before sliding the drawer closed and wiping the desk drawer clean of any prints he might've left behind.

'This shit will keep me quite comfortable!' He crowed, patting the folders that settled against his stomach. He slipped from the study and back to Diane's suite, adding the folders to the hoard in his backpack. He placed his clothing over the stash so it wouldn't be easily seen, should anyone get curious enough to want to inspect the inside of it.

He felt no remorse stealing from Diane and her family. He had a need; they were a way to fill it. He felt confident that it would be days - maybe even weeks - before anyone discovered the theft. 'The longer no one notices the small shit, the better! I'm gonna have a hard enough time changin' the truck's license plate so Diane won't get suspicious if she sees it!'

A light tapping at the door caused his heart to skip a beat. He shoved the back pack into the closet, closed the door, and hurried to the desk chair. "Enter!" He called, turning on the desktop and hurriedly accessing the internet. 'What a time for that asshat to show up!'

"Will sir be requiring lunch?" James inquired haughtily.

"Nah, I'm goin' to the hospital to visit my friend, figured I'd pick up somethin' on the way," he replied smoothly without looking up at the houseboy. 'This will cover the theft of the pick up! No one will look for it until tomorrow!'

"Very well sir. I'll leave your nighttime repast and the appropriate alcoholic beverage in the refrigerator as usual," James sniffed.

"As you should," 'Brownie' grunted.

Waves of displeasure radiated from James' ramrod straight back as the door closed softly behind him. 'Brownie's' grin grew wider. 'I'm gonna miss baitin' the old fuck!'

He played a few hands of internet solitaire until he felt that he could safely leave the penthouse. He didn't want to encounter James or any of the other staff. A half hour after James' visit to the room, 'Brownie' retrieved his back pack and slipped soundlessly into the hall and into the marbled foyer. He stopped along the way just long enough to grab the keys to the pick up, then pressed the button that would summon the private elevator.

He sighed with relief when the doors to the elevator slid shut on the empty foyer. He'd escaped scott free and nearly skipped with joy to the pick up. He threw the knapsack into the cab and climbed inside, laughing in triumph as he made his last exit from the secure garage.

---

Kozik's thoughts remained on Tig all the way back to Charming. He felt bad for his friend. 'It's gotta be rough bein' stuck behind bars when ya lose a family member.'

He and Chibs went right into the clubhouse to report to Opie. They found him sitting at the bar, smoking and nursing a beer.

"Seems strange not to see Chuckie behind the bar," Kozik muttered.

"Aye, boot thair wuz no stoppin' 'im tha minnit 'e kin aboot Cat's Da," Chibs explained. "The lad thinks a lot aboot me sis."

"There's a lot of that goin' around," Kozik remarked.

"How's Tig?" Opie inquired as Chibs and Kozik joined him at the bar.

"As a'right as anyone who lost someone close to them can be," Kozik replied, accepting a cold bottle of beer from Filthy Phil. "He's definitely not happy about bein' unable to be with Cat."

"Not much he can do about it," Opie shrugged.

"True dat," Chibs acknowledged, sliding onto a bar stool and lighting a cigarette. He pointed to the bottle of Jameson on the top shelf. Seconds later, Miles set a shot glass and the bottle in front of him. "Tha lad wasnae surprised by tha' nooze. In fact, 'e seemed ta be expectin' it."

Opie exhaled a long plume of smoke through his nose. "Why do ya say that?"

"He heard one of the Illinois patches tell her she was needed in her dad's room last night. The line stayed open and he heard the doctor tellin' her they were losin' the old guy."

Chibs smacked the back of Kozik's head with the palm of his hand. "A lil respeck, lad! Tha 'auld guy' is Cat's Da!"

"No disrespect meant, brother!" Kozik whaled, rubbing the back of his head.

"Teeg appreciated tha' we sent Adrian an' Chuckie out to 'elp," Chibs added.

"We owe your old lady one for makin' that possible," Opie tipped his beer bottle in Kozik's direction. "Speakin' of, they got to Indy a'right. Chuckie called a bit ago. Cat picked 'em up along with her brother."

"Dat wuld be tha' one frum Arizona," Chibs informed them.

"It's good she's got family with her along with the charters," Kozik added.

"The charter's family, aren't they?" Miles interjected.

His inquiry earned hard stares from Koz and Opie.

"Easy bhoys!" Chibs stated soothingly. "It's a gud question." He turned his gaze on the prospects and added, "Tha shert answer is aye. Boot at a tyme lyke this, she needs blud famly."

"Are you going to reach out to her?" Opie asked.

" She's gotta 'ave a lot on 'er playte. I'll prolly call 'er tonight or sum time termorrow," Chibs stated, throwing back a shot of Jameson.

"Wish there was something else we could do since we can't attend the funeral," Kozik observed.

"May I make a suggestion?" A soft, sensual voice asked from the club entrance.

---

After he took over the Mayor's office, Jacob Hale alternated time in the mornings between there and his real estate office. He started at his business, going through work orders and dictacting memos and other tasks for his personal secretary to implement. The remainder of the day was spent in City Hall conducting Charming's business.

Before his secretary arrived for that day, Hale updated a personal project intended to improve the his beloved town by bringing what he felt was most needed revenue to it. He sat back in his chair, grinning in delight as he reviewed the list of commercial and residential properties that belonged to dead or incarcerated members of SAMCRO and their friends.

"What a slap in the face it would be to SAMCRO if I took ownership of those properties!"

He had accessed the website for the county recorders office, conducting a search of all the deeds and tax records of properties delinquent in tax payments. An hour later, Hale had his spread sheet complete and color coded. Red indicated those addresses that were not in default and likely never would be in default on property taxes.

He was disgusted that the locations he was most interested in - Lumpy's Gym, Charming Pawse, and the Teller – Morrow compound - taxes were up to date. So were the residences for the Tragers, Jax Teller, the Morrows', and the house now owned by Dr. Knowles. So was the former location of the Caracara studios.

There were a few SAMCRO affiliated properties highlighted in yellow. Those were delinquent in their property tax payments, but were in limbo because the five year waiting period hadn't elasped. 'Those properties might become available in a few years', provided the owners don't make up the payments'. He would have to keep an eye on those properties in the months ahead.

A very small number of properties were marked in green. Those were the commercial and residential properties that were not only in default, but had passed the required five year waiting period and were eligible to be sold at auction. Most of the residential properties were near his Liberty Street revitalization project, including the home of Tina Lou, a SAMCRO widow.T

Hale had already taken the first step in his plan to acquire her property long ago. He'd requested the quarterly tax bill be forwarded to a private mailbox in Oaktown. It had been easy for him to change the mailing address for the bill; all he had to do was submit the request online. No other proof was required by the county tax office's website. The bills went to that PMB instead of to Tina Lou. 'She might have paid the mortgage off, but she'll have quite a surprise when the foreclosure notice arrives!'

With a tried plan in place, he set his sights on two other residential properties under SAMCRO's wing; the Delaney's home and Lowell, Sr's property. Lowell, Sr., had been a mechanic at Teller Morrow but had disappeared during the Mayan/SAMCRO war of the 1990s. His son, Lowell Jr., had quickly fallen into a morass of drug abuse, and forgotten about his family home. Hale was just waiting to snap it up.

He found it interesting that SAMCRO hadn't kept 'Big' Otto's property taxes up to date. 'The club makes so much noise about being a brotherhood, but they've really dropped the ball this time!' Hale snorted derisively. 'Guess LuAnn didn't tell them she hadn't paid the taxes before she died.'

Otto Delaney had been in prison for years and wasn't likely to get out any time soon. In fact, he'd received added time to his lengthy sentence for pounding the late Agent June Stahl's face into an interview room table. 'From what my contacts in the Sheriff's department indicate, Delaney's likely to die in prison!' Hale smiled slyly. The Delaney home had been vacant since LuAnn's murder, but hadn't been put up for sale after SAMCRO packed the Delaney's personal possessions and put them away in storage.

'That house will bring a nice, tidy sum!' Hale thought before turning his attention to the house owned by the missing and presumed dead Lowell Sr. 'Come to think of it, Lowell Jr. hasn't been seen around town for several months,' Hale mused. 'No surprise that the club, much less Teller - Morrow hasn't raised an alarm. They don't give a damn that he's not shown up for weeks!'

He laughed harshly at his own naivete. 'Why would the garage be concerned about Lowell, Jr? The whole town knows what a druggie he is! He probably got a needle full of bad dope and is lying decomposing somewhere. That's what will bring the local media out in droves!'

Lowell Sr.'s house wasn't as large as the Delaney home. It had an attached garage, a small kitchen area, a couple of small bedrooms, and a bathroom. Hale decided that it would make a good rental property.

There were also some prime properties on Main Street that he had plans to buy and make available to big business, including a vacant ice cream/candy store and the former cigar shop Ethan Zobelle had rented. The ice cream shop was just the right size for a Starbucks. Though it wouldn't be able to offer drive through service, Hale has already promised the company that he would arrange for preferential parking for their customers. Starbucks headquarters was still mulling over the idea, though he knew it wouldn't take the company long to decide in favor of setting in Charming.

'Mrs. Trager's establishment has done well without one. A Starbucks with parking out front would give her a run for her money! She's enjoyed a coffee monopoly ever since 'Latte Da' folded! She needs to be taken down a peg or two and I'm going to enjoy doing it!'

Hale set calendar reminders for the dates the green marked properties would be available for sale. He was quite satisfied to be doing something for himself without Zobelle calling the shots. In fact, he was doing this behind Zobelle's back! Hale felt more like a man instead of a puppet attached to a string dancing to Zobelle's tune.

He downloaded the files to a flash drive attached to his key ring. When it wasn't on his person, he kept it locked in the glove compartment of his car. After leaving the print out of the day's assignments on his secretary's desk, he left the real estate building to start his day as Mayor Hale.

---

Tig ached inside for his wife and from the pain of being unable to be with her to ease the pain he knew she was enduring. The nightmare didn't help his disposition any, much less his appetite. He couldn't even eat his beloved 'Snicker Bar Muffins', much less the unappealing food on his tray. He knew he should tell his brothers about the visit from Chibs and Kozik, but was unable to get the words past the lump in his throat.

'Shit, I can barely wrap my mind around this! How can I tell my brothers without losin' it? Plenty of time to share the intel once I can handle it!' He pushed away from the table and trudged to the waste bins without a word to his brothers.

Clay stared at the retreating SAA's back. "OK, this mood of his is getting old real fast! It's not normal for him!"

"What is normal for him?" Bobby smirked.

"This is different," Clay growled. "I didn't act on Hap's intel earlier because I thought Tig would fill us in on his own. He's clammed up like an oyster guardin' its' pearl. Bobby, go talk to the Mayans' guard, see what you can find out about this mornin'."

"I figured you'd call Ope for intel," Bobby observed.

"I might still have to, but let's see what the guard knows."

Bobby nodded and ambled off to find the guard. It wasn't a difficult job, all Bobby had to do was ask one of their brown friends for the guard's whereabouts. Within minutes, the Mayan brought the guard to Bobby.

"Two of your crew were here at 8AM. One of 'em had scars on his face and looked like he'd been rode hard and put away wet," the guard stated.

'Chibs,' Bobby thought to himself. 'Sounds like he was up most of the night. I've got a bad feelin' about that.'

"The other one was dirty blonde, kinda small, but looks like he could handle his own in a fight," the guard continued. "I couldn't hear what they said, naturally."

"Of course," Bobby growled. 'The other guy was Kozik. This definitely feels bad!'

"Both of your crew were pretty glum lookin'. 24601 didn't seem surprised by whatever they were telling him. The convo didn't last long, maybe about 10 – 15 minutes. They shook hands and the prisoner left the visiting room."

"And that's all you know?"

The guard knew more than he cared to tell. There were some lines he wasn't willing to cross. It was up to the prisoner to share his burden with his club, not his. "Your friend wasn't very talkative on the way out," the guard retorted. "Are we done?"

"Yeah," Bobby sighed. The Mayan nodded at the guard, who shrugged and walked away.

"Satisfied, esse?"

"For the moment," Bobby replied.

---

Kozik turned in surprise at the sound of Ima's voice. "Hey baby! You don't usually come in here! Everything a'right?"

"Sure, lover. I had a few hours off and thought I'd stop in for a bit, especially since Gemma's not here yet," she assured him. "I wanted to make sure Tig got the word about Cat's employees going out to help."

Opie and Chibs picked up their drinks and began to move away from the bar. They intended to give the couple some privacy.

"Don't go, fellas!" She pleaded. "I'd like to get your opinion on something."

Chibs and Opie exchanged glances, shrugged, and leaned against the bar. Their faces held expressions of polite inquiry.

"What's up, baby?" Kozik urged, sensing her uncertainty and drawing a protective arm over her shoulders.

"I was thinking about Cat, and what else we could do for her," Ima explained, glancing sideways at the other two outlaws to gauge their reaction.

Chibs' expression softened slightly at the mention of his heart sister. He'd been trying to think of a gesture the club could make and come up empty. He was encouraged to find that he wasn't the only person thinking along those lines.

Opie remained silent, his expression unreadable. He wasn't willing to encourage or discourage Ima from helping, nor was he willing to make it easy for her. He held her just as responsible for the rift between Jax and Tara that developed before the trip to Belfast as the VP. 'It takes two to tango; she should've just stayed with Kozik that night.'

Ima drew a deep breath and stiffened her spine. "Would anyone object to all of us chipping in to send a floral arrangement to the funeral home in Vincennes?"

Chibs and Kozik nodded approvingly. "Ah donnae belayve it shuld be frum da club," Chibs added. "Cat's da kin nothin' aboot us. T'would be better ifn it were frum tha garage."

"Oh yeah, that's right," Ima sighed. "I forgot about that. She said she'd taken the route of least resistance so her father wouldn't be upset."

"Aye," Chibs sighed. "Speakin' of roots, Ah find meself wantin' ta call 'er, boot donnae wanna interfere."

Ima shook her head. "She'd never think that of you, Chibs!"

"I agree," Kozik stated. "She needs all the support we can give her."

"I agree that we should reach out," Opie intoned gruffly, setting his empty bottle down on the bar with a resounding thud. "A floral arrangement from the 'Teller - Morrow garage' is a good idea. See to it, Ima."

Ima was startled by the sound of the bottle hitting the bar. She wondered if she'd angered Opie, until he issued approval of her suggestion. "I've got this, Opie," she assured him.

"Not so fast, sweetheart," a terse, female voice announced from the entryway. Ima's eyes grew round at the sight of the Biker Queen standing near the end of the bar, hands crossed over her chest and one hip cocked slightly. She glared at the small group. "I'd like to know what exactly you've got." Her eyes narrowed balefully at the blond actress.

Kozik turned to confront Gemma, drawing his woman closer to him in a protective and comforting move. He could feel Ima tremble. "It's a'right, baby. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he murmured.

Ima swallowed her fright and managed to look Gemma in the eye. "I guess you haven't heard the bad news yet," she replied quietly.

Gemma's flinty expression softened a little. "Cat's dad?"

"Aye," Chibs affirmed. He briefed the Queen on the early morning call he'd received from SAMCHI and the reason for Chuckie's absence. "Ima mayde it poosible fer Adrian an' Chuckie ta git ta Indiana."

Gemma's eyes narrowed in suspicion for a brief moment. "Yeah," she murmured. "That was nice of you."

"Th - thanks," Ima stuttered. "We were just talking about sending a floral arrangement to the funeral home in Vincennes."

Gemma's features softened further. She hadn't forgotten Ima's previous ploys to take Jax from Tara, but she admired the girl's loyalty to Tig's wife. "I heard Opie mention it should come from the garage. He's right," she took her wallet out of her purse, removed two $20 bills and laid them on the bar. "This is from Clay and me."

Her gesture broke the men's temporary paralysis. They dug out their wallets and piled bills on top of Gemma's donation. "Gemma's pretty good with plants," Opie remarked, realizing that the queen needed to do more in this endeavor than donate funds. "Would you mind letting her handle the floral arrangement, Ima?"

The younger woman glanced from Opie to Gemma, and then to her man. Kozik squeezed her shoulder. "It's up to you, baby," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear.

Ima nodded and pushed the money across the bar towards Gemma. "I think that'd be lovely."

Gemma nodded and gathered the bills together in a neat pile. "I'll call the florist from the office. Cut flowers are nice, but I think a planter of some kind might be better."

"I like that idea. It'll be a living memorial," Ima whispered, her eyes shining with tears. "Did you know he grew up on a farm?"

"Cat mentioned it. She said she didn't inherit her father's green thumb," Gemma remarked. She nodded cordially at Ima before turning and striding out of the clubhouse.

"Ah'll call Lady Cat later," Chibs called out to the departing Queen. "Ah wanna gie 'er tyme ta set tha' date an' playce fer tha' service. Ah'll be shure ta let ye kin."

Gemma waved her hand as she stepped outside without turning to acknowledge she heard his comment. She continued striding across the lot to the office.

Chibs gave Kozik and Ima a wink before setting his empty shot glass down on the bar. "We'll let ye two 'ave a liddle private tyme," he grinned, nudging Opie in the side to come with him.

"You two prospects go clean the outside lot," Opie growled.

"We did," Miles protested.

"Do it again!" Opie roared.

The prospects scampered out of the clubhouse as if the Devil himself was chasing them. Their exit was followed by the amused laughter of the two officers.

"That was a damn decent thing to do, baby! I know Gemma's not one of your favorite people," Kozik stated.

"It's hard to forget that she and Tara used my Toyota for target practice," Ima pointed out. "That makes me cautious around her."

"Did you give in only because of that?"

Ima shook her head. "I did it for Cat; she would've done the same thing. She'd have realized that Gemma needed to be involved."

---

"Gawd, bro! You're a sight for sore eyes!" Cat exclaimed, engulfing her older step – brother, Jan, in a fierce hug.

He returned the hug, being careful not to bang her in the back of the head with his cane. "I'm sorry about Dad," he whispered as he kissed her cheek.

"So am I," she replied, slipping out of his embrace to open the car door for him. The Chrysler was parked near the sidewalk at the airline arrival area. Cavey had ridden in from the cell phone lot with her and was busily loading Jan's bags into the trunk.

"Who's the dude and what's Alex think of you gallivanting around with him?" Jan inquired jokingly.

Cat grinned slightly but didn't respond until Jan was safely settled in the front passenger seat. She slid behind the wheel while Cavey climbed into the back seat, sliding into the middle between them. "Tig knows. He sent Cavey and his buddies over to keep an eye on me. They're fellow members of his ridin' group," she explained, giving Cavey a significant look.

Cavey snorted with laughter and covered it up with a weak cough. "Must've swallowed some dust!" He explained, holding out his hand to Jan. "Cavey's the name, mate. Good to meet you, but 'ate the circumstance."

"Jan. Same here. If Alex sent you and some other friends to protect Lil' Sis, you must be good people," he replied, grasping Cavey's hand in a firm grip.

"We try," Cavey muttered.

"Don't we all," Jan nodded, glancing out the side of his eye at his sister.

"Watch it, brother. Y'all don't want to hiss me off," she hissed.

"Can't shoot a man for telling the truth, sis," he grinned before sobering to ask, "Does Mom know?"

"Not yet," Cat shook her head. "I wanted to wait until we spoke to Daniel. He's due in later today."

"It won't really matter when we tell her; she'll forget within five minutes," Jan murmured. "Damn Altzheimers!"

"The funeral is goin' to be difficult for her, even with her condition," Cat observed wryly.

"So are we headed straight to Vincennes from here?" Jan asked.

"Not quite. We're waitin' on a couple of my employees. They just disembarked a few minutes ago."

"Oh, man! Gonna be quite be a car full," Jan sighed, thinking of his back and legs.

"Not for long," she assured him. "Cavey's bike is in the cell phone lot. He'll follow us back to the apartment so we can pick up my bags."

"Hey, I see a pair of blokes lookin' lost over there," Cavey interjected, pointing past the front seats towards the exit doors Jan had just passed through.

"It's Adrian and Chuckie!" Cat exclaimed, opening her car door to greet the newcomers. "And Chuckie's got hands!"

"What does she mean by that?" Jan asked Cavey, who slid to the passenger side of the sedan to help load the trunk.

"Dunno, mate. We'll soon find out," Cavey replied while getting out of the back seat.

Cat raced up to the pair, enfolding them both in giant hugs. "I'm so happy to see you two! Welcome to the Crossroads of America!"

"Hi, Miss Cat!" They both squeaked over the pressure on their Adam's Apples from her hug.

She grinned and released them from the tight embrace. "Sorry, guys!"

"At least we don't have to worry that you're not happy to see us!" Adrian grunted.

"I'm very happy to see you both!" She exclaimed.

"We accept that," Chuckie replied. "Though we don't accept the reason for it."

"Welcome to the club, darlin'," Cat stated grimly. "There's a lot of that goin' around." She introduced Cavey to the men. "Chuckie, when'd you get the fingers?"

He held up his hands and wiggled the plastic in traditional 'jazz hands' manner. "Like 'em?"

"They stand out," she observed.

"Gemma bought 'em for me. She was a little weirded out by my having only one finger on each hand," he explained. "It's taken a little getting used to."

"How do you like 'em?"

"I accept 'em. Now I can carry things easier and might even start driving again!" Chuckie grinned. He demonstrated how well his new hands worked by opening his own back door.

Cavey shuddered but didn't comment about the newcomer's plastic hands. He concentrated on loading the additional baggage in the trunk. 'I hope the guys don't try to take a lot of shit to Vincennes that we can't carry on the bikes! This trunk is gettin' kinda full.'

While Cavey loaded the trunk, Cat introduced her brother to her employees. "Chuckie works for me on occasion. I loaned him out to Alex's garage," she added.

"Mr. Tig," Adrian whispered to a confused looking Chuckie.

"I accept that," he whispered back.

Cat glanced in the rear view mirror at the trio, then at her brother before starting the Chrysler and pulling into traffic. No one spoke until they reached the cell lot to let Cavey out to collect his bike.

"Did you have any trouble getting out of your lease, sis?" Jan asked as Cavey mounted his Harley.

"Nah," Cat replied, pulling out of the cell lot and back onto to the service road that would take them to the main street and on across town. "Bill and I rented from Mrs. York for years before we bought the house. She gave me on a week to week rental on the two units."

"The Brit guy isn't staying with you?"

"Quit tryin' to make mischief, brother!" She growled warningly. "Cavey's from British Columbia, by the way, and the 'Illinois Boys' stayed in the apartment above mine. They'll be followin' us to Vincennes on their bikes."

"Jesus! Dad and Mom's house won't hold all of us!" Jan exclaimed.

"True. It's gonna be cramped enough with all you men and lil' ole me," she observed wryly. "The bikers have opted to stay at the 'no tel' motel near the house. I called and made the arrangements while you were at baggage claim."

"Thank God!" Jan sighed. As likable as Cavey seemed to be, Cat's older step – brother wasn't sure about hosting a large group of people in the house, especially a bunch of bikers. 'Daniel can stay at his place with his daughter and the kid,' Jan thought. 'I don't know what we're going to do with these other two guys. Blaine's house only has two bedrooms!'

"Penny for your thoughts, big brother," Cat observed.

"I was just thinking about accommodations," Jan admitted. "I can share Dad's bed with one of your employees."

Cat tried not to wince at the idea of anyone sleeping in her father's bed. The thought hadn't crossed her mind until Jan mentioned it.

Jan noticed the slight tension in her jaw and laid a comforting hand on her arm. "Shit, that was really insensitive of me, Lil Sis. Maybe Daniel can put me up at his house."

Cat shook her head. "No, brother, you're simply bein' logical. The bed's there, it might as well be used. No sense in makin' it a shrine, for fuck's sake!"

"I'm more than happy to sleep on the couch, Miss Cat!" Chuckie piped up. "That way Adrian can have the bed with your brother."

"What if I don't want the bed?" Adrian inquired hotly.

"Behave yourselves, boys, or you'll sleep out on the deck!" Cat snorted.

"I don't accept that! At least I have a cot at the clubhouse!" Chuckie muttered mutinously.

Cat glanced out the side of her eye at her brother, but if he'd heard Chuckie's slip, he gave no indication of it. She moved her gaze into the rear view mirror in time to see Adrian nudge Chuckie in the side before leaning forward to whisper in the other man's ear. Chuckie's face turned bright red.

"C'mon you two! Stop squabblin'!" She advised warningly. "We'll work out the sleepin' arrangements when we get to Daddy's."

Chuckie couldn't meet her gaze. He was embarrassed by his verbal slip.

"You got that, you two in the back seat?" She added with a mock growl.

Adrian nudged Chuckie again and pointed at the rear view mirror. Chuckie warily looked up and caught his friend's reassuring wink.

"We got that, Miss Cat!" Adrian replied.

"I accept that," Chuckie smiled.

"Good," Cat snorted approvingly. To avoid any other slips of the lip, she turned the radio on, allowing the classic rock station to fill the silence.

---

Gemma shook her head in disbelief as she settled into her office chair. For all her antipathy for the blond porn star, she couldn't suppress a grudging respect for the girl. 'I didn't think she was capable of that kind of compassion,' she thought while she perused the local flower shop's internet site for a suitable planter.

She sniffed in derision to think that Ima might just be grateful to have one of the old ladies on her side. 'It figures that Cat would be in that bitch's corner. She has a bad habit of rooting for the underdog.' Lyla and Ima definitely fit that model as far as she was concerned.

Though Opie seemed to genuinely care for Lyla, Gemma had reservations about the girl. Time would tell if she would be a good old lady for Opie, much less for the club. Ima was an entirely different matter. Gemma didn't see anything good for the club that would come out of Kozik's hooking up with her.

'It would've been better if he'd just fucked her and forgotten her. Moving in with her sent a definite message and not a very good one!' Gemma shook a cigarette out of the carton and lit it, inhaling deeply before letting the smoke out through her nose.

'I never thought Kozik was the type to accept sloppy seconds!' Gemma observed dryly. 'The bitch fucked Jax when he was on the outs again with Tara. Finding Ima in the apartment with my boy really hurt her. I'm never going to trust the gash and can't forgive her for hurting my girl.'

Gemma sighed in irritation and stabbed the half smoked cigarette into an overflowing ashtray. "There's nothing I can do about it now. Kozik's chosen her. It's his business where he wants to stick his dick. But if it interferes with the club or my family, it'll be my business!'

She reluctantly gave the porn star some credit for knowing that she was persona non grata with the club's female royalty. Despite Kozik's claim on her, Ima kept herself as scarce from their presence as she could. Her absence from the 'family breakfast' after their return from Belfast with Abel was proof of that.

Gemma had been unpleasantly surprised to find Ima's new car sitting in the compound parking lot. That was her main reason for entering the clubhouse before going into the office. She overheard the tail end of Ima's conversation with her boys and felt a moment of jealousy that she'd not been consulted about sending an arrangement to the funeral. That was when she'd felt it necessary to announce her presence.

'I'm surprised she backed down!' Gemma admitted to herself. 'The girl's got some brains in that blond head after all! I hope Lyla doesn't ask her to be a bridesmaid!' Gemma shuddered at the thought. 'That would definitely send the wrong message. Maybe I should have a little chat with Lyla about that somewhere down the road.'

Gemma finally found a planter that suited her as well as the occasion. She filled out the online order and entered the billing information for the garage, adding a note that the date of the ceremony was yet to be set. Seconds later, she received an email confirmation of the order, along with the shop owner's personal assurances that the transaction would be personally handled.

She smiled in satisfaction and logged out of the internet. It was just as she'd explained to Tara during the lock down; the town owed respect to the club and its' women. Gemma had enjoyed that benefit for years and even relished the fearful respect the townspeople gave her.

She felt considerably jealousy where the Charming Businessowners Association's easy acceptance of Cat as a leader. TM was a long time member, and Gemma had been a member much longer than Cat. Yet the business owners deferred to Cat more readily than they did Gemma. It rankled so much that she often sat stoney faced during the meetings, refusing to participate in the discussions or chat with the business owners that weren't friends of the club.

'Maybe I need to use this time to smooth things over with the CBA,' she thought. The calendar on her desk indicated there was a city council meeting that night. She only had it noted in order to make sure someone from the club attended. With the officers in prison, Tara or Chuckie had been attending the meetings and reporting back to her and Opie.

'I think it'd be a good idea to sit in on tonight's meeting,' Gemma decided. "Time to remind this town and the Mayor that I'm still a force they need to respect!'

---

Mayor Hale didn't look forward to many council meetings due to Cat Marshall Trager's presence. Every time he tried to introduce motions that would allow big business to gain a foothold in Charming, she was there to burst his bubble and prevent them from moving in.

"It is a lot like planning an attack on the opposing side of a war, Jacob," Zobelle once informed him. "That is the reason that you and your father have never been able to conquer SAMCRO's opposition to corporate retailers operating in Charming. You have to plan your attack and then carry it out when it is least expected."

The evening's upcoming meting was going to be an exception. His nemesis was thousands of miles away and wouldn't be able to oppose his latest motion; use imminent domain to acquire a large parcel of Elliot Oswald's land. It was the same parcel the lumber mogul had put up as collatoral for SAMCRO's bond after the incident at the Morado Christian Center with Zobelle, Westin, and LOAN.

'Too bad Zobelle can't enjoy the delicious irony of this move!' Hale mused. 'But this is another thing that he doesn't have any involvement in, and I don't intend to tell him about it! Not after the last time I involved him in a land scheme!'

Hale had tried before to use imminent domain to obtain that 300 acres from Elliott Oswald for his luxury residential neighborhood he intended to call Charming Heights. Hale had invited Zobelle to invest in the housing development along with other prominent SANWA County citizens. It would be located outside of Charming's town line on that parcel of Elliott Oswald's land.

Zobelle refused to do any major business with Hale until and unless Hale joined LOAN. It disgusted him to become a member of the group, but it was the only way he could get Zobelle to invest in the project.

Jacob Hale submitted his application and was admitted to LOAN's membership roll, but the investment never came through. His now deceased brother, David, had joined forces with Clay Morrow to halt the land grab before it got off the ground. Zobelle became so centered on his war with the MC that 'Charming Heights' died a quick death when the LOAN shot caller fled the US.

'Now I'm stuck with a membership I don't want, and none of Zobelle's money for my trouble!' Hale complained to himself. 'The only good thing to come out of this is no one in Charming knows about my membership in LOAN. That could have an adverse affect on the labor force.'

Hale often used illegal aliens that lived in Oaktown for construction labor. They weren't protected by labor unions, and were willing to work for cash at a lower rate of pay then their American counterparts. Hale saved a lot of money by using the illegal aliens not only through reduced wages, but also because he didn't have to provide health and retirement benefits to them.

Hale was smart enough to hire a more expensive crew of legal residents for his construction sites. Those workers usually held supervisory positions and had little contact with the manual laborers. The legal residents' presence kept ICE and the IRS from poking their nose in his business. He'd managed to stay off their radar for years and intended to continue to do so while Charming Heights was being built.

Hale was privy to knowledge that no one else in Charming knew; that the county and state were considering building a new highway off ramp in San Joaquin County. It was the perfect tool for Hale to use to bring major retail chains to Charming. All he needed was for the council to approve the use of imminent domain on Oswald's land. There was enough space to provide for the retail businesses, the off ramp, and Charming Heights. Before the powers that be decided to locate the off ramp near Charming, however, the land had to be available. Hale intended to make that happen that evening.

'If she were here, Mrs. Trager would fight against me by claiming local jobs and businesses would be adversely affected. Her buddies on the CBA would follow her like lemmings leaping off a cliff. With her gone, I'll be able to sway any doubters to my way of thinking, and she won't be able to do anything about it!'

He felt certain things would go his way once he pointed out how negligible the local job loss would be compared to the additional construction jobs that would be immediately available, along with the future influx of retail jobs. It would be a win for Charming in the long run; the housing development would bring new blood to the town, and the businesses would bring in more tax dollars.

'That will enable me to get Charming Heights out of the planning stages at last! Plenty of people will want to live in luxury housing close to the highway and the best thing of all, Cat Trager's absence will allow 'people's business' to progress!'

---

Vic and Big Bird were waiting at the apartment building when they arrived. "More friends of yours?" Jan inquired.

"Yes, they are. Vic was the mechanic on my Yamaha, and Ron was my best ridin' buddy. They won't be makin' the trip with us," she added dryly, sensing her brother's unspoken question.

"I wasn't worried!" He protested.

"Yeah, and brown bears don't shit in the woods!" She slid out of the car and walked up to her two friends. Big Bird was the first to embrace her.

"I'm sorry, hon," he murmured. "Never met your father, but he sounded like a great man."

She rested her head against his chest for a moment before withdrawing. "Thanks, Ron. He was a great Dad."

"How ya holdin' up, honey?" Vic added, giving her a quick hug of his own.

"By a thread," she admitted. "It doesn't seem real, but Jan's bein' here kinda makes it unavoidable."

"Is there anything we can do for ya?" Vic inquired.

"You've already done it by showin' up," she replied. "Considerin' I'm headin' back to Vincennes in a bit."

Jan extracted himself from the front seat of the car and limped up to the group. "You must be Cat's friends," he stated amiably. "I'm her big brother, Jan." Short introductions were given and handshakes exchanged. "Thanks for being here for my lil sis," Jan added, leaning on his cane.

"We couldn't think of anywhere else to be at the moment," Ron explained.

They followed her into the apartment building, but were surprised when Cat didn't go into her unit. She unlocked the door and turned towards the stairs.

"Don't you have to pack, Miss Cat?" Adrian inquired as she started towards the stairs.

"Already done. My bags are ready to go and waitin' in the bedroom."

"What about the coffeepot, microwave, and foodstuffs?" Cavey asked.

"The appliances are stayin' here," she explained. "The foodstuffs are packed in a box and waitin' in the fridge to be loaded in the car."

"That's my sister!" Jan laughed, lowering himself gingerly onto the sofa.

"Hold on a second, Cat!" Cavey called as she mounted the stairs. "Don't go up there!"

She stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. "Why? Do all y'all have a bunch of porn stars hidden away?"

"There's porn stars in this town?" Cavey grinned wickedly.

"You wish!"

Cavey moved up a couple of steps to speak more quietly to her. He saw no reason to broadcast her business to everyone in the building. "Forget about supervising the clean up, we've got this. You've got something else on your agenda."

"Oh?" She inquired silkily, raising both eyebrows.

"Yeah," he replied. "Mrs. York was worried about you. She called your doctor and you're expected there. Now."

"Damn! Not a lot of notice there, spud!" She whistled, giving him 'The Look'.

"OK, not right this minute, but you don't 'ave time to 'ang around 'ere," Cavey retorted. "Besides, we men can do 'ousework when we 'afta!"

"Yeah, right! And people in Hell don't thirst!" She snorted, but she turned away from the upper apartment and slipped past Cavey to the ground floor. She opened the door to her apartment and stuck her head past the threshold to announce the change of plans to her brother and visitors.

"Do you want company, Lil Sis?" Jan inquired.

"Nah. Y'all just got off a plane. Take some time to rest for the car trip ahead," she assured him. "Vic, I need to use 'Blackie' for a wee bit."

"It's still yours, hon. Why not take the car?"

"Got an errand to run, thought keepin' the car here would allow the guys to get it loaded so we can leave when I get back," she explained.

"Besides, she's not going alone!" Cavey assured them over her shoulder. "I'm sending Grim Bastard and Mud Ball with 'er!"

Cat glared over her shoulder at him. "Is that really necessary? All y'all took care of that issue yesterday!"

"Seriously?" Cavey retorted.

"I'm so much in dead earnest you'd mistake me for a maggot," she replied.

"You're not a maggot, and you're not going off on your own!" Cavey informed her. "Grim and Mud are going with, and that's it!"

"OK!" She sighed, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. "I give! Jesus Christ!"

"Grim! Mud! Get your asses down 'ere ready to ride!" Cavey shouted up the stairs.

Seconds later, the two outlaws joined them in the foyer, helmets swinging from their hands.

"We leavin' for Vincennes a'ready?" Grim asked a little breathlessly from his rush.

"Nah. Cat's gotta make a doctor visit. Just go with."

"Copy that!" Both Grim and Mud Ball replied before hurrying out to their Harleys.

Cavey handed his helmet to her. "Better wear this, darlin'. We've already seen 'ow crazy the cagers are around 'ere."

Cat sighed and accepted the helmet. She preferred not to use one if she didn't have to. 'Sometimes it's just easier to give in and let 'em have a win!' She consoled herself.

"Ride safe, Lil Sis," Jan waved.

"See you soon, Miss Cat!" Chuckie added

The men settled into chairs in the living room after Cat and the two bikers left. Jan gestured for Cavey to join them. He leaned forward in his seat, gazing intently at the outlaw. "You'd better fill me in about why my sister needs protection."

---

Tig upended his tray, allowing the uneaten food to fall into the garbage can, then tossed his tray onto the conveyer belt that would carry it to the kitchen. He strode out of the cafeteria towards the exercise yard without a backwards glance.

"Want me to follow him?" Happy asked Clay.

"Nah. He needs some time to himself. No one in their right mind is gonna fuck with him," Clay replied.

"How can you be sure?" Juice asked worriedly.

"Didn't you see his face when he left?" Clay responded. "Anyone dumb enough to confront him when he's in that mood deserves whatever he dishes out to 'em."

If Tig's stormy expression didn't ward off potential trouble, his reputation when it came to fighting did. Following the fight between the Russians and SAMCRO after Jax was shived, the prison gossip mill made it known that 24601 was a vicious fighter who wasn't afraid to bite off his opponent's ear or nose to win.

The prisoners wandering around the halls of the prison hastily scattered out of Tig's path. He paid no attention to his surroundings, keeping his gaze fixed straight ahead without making eye contact with his fellow inmates. He had a destination in mind where he might find some peace and quiet to shake off the bothersome nightmare. His cell was out, that was the first place Clay and his brothers would look. He headed for the prison library.

'They don't have the selection we have at home, but there should be somethin' worth readin' or listenin' to in there!' He mused as the door to the library loomed ahead. 'Hell, I'll even listen to some of that classical shit if it keeps me from havin' to listen to the voices in my head - or any one else!'

He also hoped to find either Lenny the Pimp or Big Otto in the library. Though Otto had been moved to death row, he still had a few privileges, such as one hour a day out of his cell. Due to his vision problems, Otto usually spent that hour in the library, supplementing his library of books on tape.

There weren't many prisoners in the library. Neither Otto nor Lenny were present, to Tig's disappointment. 'Doubt Lenny would've been much help anyway,' Tig snorted. 'Otto would've had better insights into this shit.'

He roamed the shelves, examining the various titles. No porn was allowed in the library, but there were plenty of legal text books, westerns, and other novels. Most of the books were pretty old and held no interest to him. Tig turned to the music library and sifted through the meager offerings until he found some tapes that looked promising. 'Maybe this shit will keep my mind busy for awhile.'

He removed the tapes from the bin and took the cases to one of the desks where the tape players and head phones were bolted down. He chose the desk closest to the wall so that he could keep his back to it and his eyes on the library around him.

Tig inserted the tape into the player, placed the headphones over his head, and turned on the tape. He'd chosen a tape of 'The Doors' greatest hits. He tried to let himself get lost in Jim Morrison's lyrical growl, but couldn't find solace in it as he usually did.

He snorted in frustration, removed the headphones, and tossed them onto the table. "Shit!" He fumed, hitting the 'stop' button on the tape player and shoving his chair away from the table.

The other few prisoners in the library gave him a brief glance at his outburst, caught one look at his dark, forbidding expression, and hastily returned to their endeavors. No one called him out for breaking the library code of silence.

'Too many people around for my taste!' He decided. He rose and strode out of the library, leaving the tape for someone else to return to the music area. He felt confined inside the library. He needed fresh air and some sun. He needed to let his thoughts roam where they wanted. 'I gotta find a way to get a handle on my own feelin's before tonight!'

He strode out of the darkness of the prison into the bright sunlight streaming into the dusty exercise yard. He was relieved not to find any of his SAMCRO brothers present. He didn't want to talk to any of them yet. He walked past the weight equipment where the Aryan Brotherhood were flexing their muscles and the other prisoners gathered in their groups, keeping his gaze turned away from them all. He was searching for a place where he could sit, smoke, and think.

A slight smile briefly lit his face as he passed the basketball court. He recalled the pick up game between the Redwood Originals and a group of the charters Cat had participated in at the compound. She'd endeared herself with Rogue River by helping them tie the score with the mother charter before he'd stepped in to take over for an injured Redwood player. 'I didn't want her on our team cause they were without shirts. Naturally I was the person guardin' her!'

He grimaced good naturedly, recalling how she'd used his height against him to get the ball inbound to her team. He hadn't expected her to try bouncing the ball off him, but it had worked and one of the charters had caught it, converting the pass to a bucket. Then she'd had to guard him on the inbounds pass, which he'd casually lobbed over her head and outstretched arms so that one of his brothers was able to score the winning basket.

'I'll bet her dad would've been proud of her for tryin'!' He thought, remembering how much Blaine enjoyed basketball himself, even though he'd never played except a few rounds of H-O-R-S-E with his daughter.

Tig finally found a remote spot in the exercise area, well away from the rest of the populace. It was the very same place he often came to on visitation Sunday at the fence where he could see the main road. Rain or shine, he would stand at the fence until the 'Black Beauty' cruised past, listening for the cheery toot of the horn as Cat and Pete made their way back to Charming.

'How that woman can manage to tap out a tune on that car horn is beyond me!' He mused, lighting a cigarette and leaning his head against the fence, staring at the wide ribbon of asphalt hundreds of yards away. He wished with all his heart that the 'Black Beauty' would miraculously appear and the horn would give off its' merry tune.

"Shit!" He snorted, turning his back to the road and crossing his arms over his chest. "If wishes were wings, we could all fly outta here! The PT won't be comin' here for a few days, and Cat won't be in it when it does! Get hold of yourself, Trager! You're actin' like you're the one who lost someone special! Cat isn't gonna need ya bein' all emotional and shit!'

Tig accepted that he had indeed lost something special in his life. He hadn't recognized it when he was in Indiana with his wife, but it had smacked him upside the head with the power of a wrecking ball. He had lost family that meant as much to him as his daughters. He would miss the minister's quiet strength, friendly demeanor, and bravery in the face of a long term illness.

'I'm really goin' to miss hearin' him say he loves me,' Tig admitted. 'A phrase my own father never said to me, yet Blaine said it without hestiation.' He slid into a squat with his back supported by the fence. The lit cigarette dangled in a corner of his mouth as his gaze stretched across the prison yard. He wasn't really seeing the dusty ground and the wire fence. He could only see the few moments of genuine companionship he'd experienced with Cat's father - moments that were rare gems to him now as he grieved his loss.

---

Kozik gazed in admiration at his woman and grinned lopsidedly at Ima's claim that she'd done the same thing Cat would've done. "Ya really like Tig's wife."

"You sound surprised," Ima replied.

"I am, a little," he admitted sheepishly. "I know Gemma hasn't exactly put out the welcome mat for ya."

"She probably never will," Ima shrugged. "That doesn't bother me. Cat treats me like a friend."

"Don't you get along with the other porn stars?"

Ima almost hooted in derision. "A nest of vipers would get along with each other better, lover!"

"How so?"

Ima sighed and shook her head. "Don't get me wrong, if some outsider gives one of the girls shit, we back her up. But now that Caracara is shut down, all the girls are in competition with each other for good parts. Dondo has his favorites and loves to pit us against each other."

"Didn't that go on at Caracara?" Kozik asked.

"Hell no! LuAnn didn't tolerate that shit. She gave everyone a fair chance for juicy parts. She did come up through the ranks, so to speak."

"What about that Georgie shitheel? What was he like to work with?"

Ima flushed guiltily. "A real asshole. He and his goons treated the talent like whores instead of talent. The male talent had it a little easier with Georgie, though most of them were gay."

Kozik nearly choked on his cigarette. "Say what?"

"Actually, the male talent swung both ways, lover," Ima smirked, thumping his back between the shoulder blades. When Kozik's brief choking spell ended, she continued, "To be honest, the gay men were easier to work with. They didn't have dick issues, and their companions were less prone to jealousy than their female counterparts."

"Didn't they enjoy the sex?" Kozik snorted.

"It's hard to enjoy something when you've got cameras in your face and lights pouring heat on you. Not to mention having to 'perform' the same act the same way several times," Ima explained. "Trust me, there's nothing pleasurable about sex as a job. You get to a point where you just go through the motions."

Kozik frowned at the comment, causing Ima to hastily add, "Only when you're doing it in a group setting like that, lover. There's nothing mechanical about what I do with you!"

"I'd think not! But ya look like you're havin' the time of your life on screen."

"That's why it's called acting, lover!"

Kozik waggled his eyebrows at her, then his expression turned serious. He decided the time had come to get a few things out in the open with Ima about her work. "So tell me why ya went to work for Georgie before LuAnn got killed?"

Ima was startled by the abrupt change of subject. She shook her head as if to clear her mind, wondering why he'd suddenly asked such a question of her. 'It had to be something either Chibs or Opie said to him. I wouldn't be surprised if Gemma wasn't behind it, though Opie probably didn't need much prompting! I'm surprised they waited this long!' She gazed intently at Kozik and replied, "I was too scared not to," Ima admitted.

"Didn't you think SAMCRO would protect you?"

"At first I did," she replied softly. "But Georgie and his goons seemed to be everywhere. They had our addresses and phone numbers. We were followed, then that guard dog that Jax brought to Caracara was killed. I was with her when Georgie's big, black goon beat the living shit out of Lyla. The big ape looked right at me and promised I'd be next if we continued to hold out."

Kozik's eyes narrowed, though Ima wasn't sure whether he was getting angry at her or upset about the threat against her. "It seemed like Georgie had eyes and ears all over the county. Things escalated after Lyla was beaten until a few of us decided it was better to give in and give Georgie what he wanted. SAMCRO couldn't protect us 24/7."

That made a lot of sense to Kozik, but he needed more intel. "Did LOAN and Westin apply the same pressure on ya to make you assist 'em in setting Jax up for a prostitution charge?"

"Whew! Someone's been telling you a lot of stories!" Ima sighed. Her eyes glistened with tears.

"I'm just tryin' to get the full story, baby," Kozik felt his heart break, but he had to know for sure. Experience had taught him that there were two sides to every story and it was best to have full intel before making a decision. He loved Lyla, but he needed to be sure that she wouldn't betray him. Not after what he'd learned that morning.

Chibs insisted on filling him in on Ima's escapades while they waited for Tig.

"Where is this comin' from all of a sudden?" Kozik growled. "Gemma?"

"Nay," Chibs replied.

"Then what's the deal, brother?"

"We didna expect this thin' wid Ima ta be muir than a oon nyte thin'," Chibs explained. "Ifn yer gonna be livin' wid tha' woman, 'tis best tha' ye kin wha yer gittin' inta. Ah'll tell ye wha' tha club kin. 'Tis up to ye to git tha rest outta 'er."

Kozik refused to believe that Ima could be disloyal. She had already shown her loyalty to him and the club through helping with the big gun hauls, with the gym, and showing up at the clubhouse to help them figure out a way to support Cat in her time of need. There was no denying her previous behaviors were suspect, though it attributed that to Ima's ill fated crush on the club VP. Kozik needed Ima's help to put the past in the past, no matter how much it hurt them.

"Westin used more intimidating tactics then Georgie and his goons," Ima admitted brokenly. "I guess that makes me too much of a chicken shit to be a decent old lady to you."

"No, baby," he reassured her. "You didn't have anybody to turn to then. I understand why ya did those things; it obviously wasn't just because you had the hots for Jax."

"Do you?" She asked hoarsely. She refused to cry in front of him. She'd never used tears as weapon and she wasn't going to start now.

"You're not a fighter like Gemma, and I don't expect ya to be," he explained. "You made decisions that kept ya safe from harm. I don't blame ya for that. Just promise me that you'll come to me if anyone threatens ya like that again."

"Just like that?" Ima asked in disbelief.

"Just like that," Kozik assured her. "It's in the past where it belongs."

Ima melted into his waiting embrace. She'd felt sure their relationship was coming to an end from his intense questioning. "I hate to bring up a sore subject," she stated after several minutes. "Has anyone informed Tig's girls about Rev. Marshall?"

"I don't think so," Kozik frowned.

"Maybe you should. That is, if Chibs hasn't," Ima suggested.

Kozik gazed quizzically at her. "Why me?"

"From what you've told me, you're about as close to the girls as blood family. They might take the news better from you than anyone else," Ima explained.

"What about Gemma?" Kozik asked. "She's known them all their lives."

Ima wrinkled her nose in distaste. She couldn't be sure, but she had a feeling that the inquisition she'd just endured had something to do with the biker queen. "Would you want to hear such bad news from Gemma?"

Kozik snorted with laughter. "Point taken, baby. Guess I'll try reachin' out to the girls."

---

Cat enjoyed riding motorcycles. She silently thanked her male cousins every time she rode. They had taken her for rides on their Harley when they were teens and she'd loved it from the first ride.

They'd ride through the back roads of Harrison County, Cat holding onto either Alan Jr's or Geoff's waist while the wind blew through her hair. She loved the sound of the powerful Harley engine. It was the closest thing to human flight. As soon as she was old enough, she'd purchased her own bike, though she'd purchased a Yamaha instead of a Harley.

"A bike's a bike," she haughtily informed her two cousins when they laughed at her choice. "It doesn't matter what y'all ride, just as long as you ride."

"She's got a point, brother," Geoff admitted as his older brother inspected the bike.

"It's all right, for a rice burner," Alan Jr agreed. "It's goin' to be Hell to work on; everything's metric!"

"I'll just have the dealership handle the repairs for me," Cat shrugged. "Keepin' the Rum Runner goin' is enough work!"

"Y'all better hope Uncle Blaine doesn't find out about your using the car for runnin' booze at school," Alan Jr. warned. "He might not approve."

"Gee, y'all think?" Cat snorted. "It's not illegal in Illinois; I'm just bendin' the law by sneakin' it back into Indiana!"

The ride to her doctor's office was as enjoyable for her as any other ride. City riding wasn't quite as exhilarating as highway runs, but it was riding. She just needed to be a little more vigilant of the cars and trucks in the other lanes.

'It's a lot more important to be on guard these days then when I first started riding," she observed, easing up on the throttle to make room for a car drifting into her lane. The driver was looking at an electronic gadget instead of paying attention to driving and didn't realize that his car was drifting from lane to lane.

The shrill blast of a semi truck's air horn startled the driver, causing him to wrench the steering wheel to the right in order to avoid colliding with the large truck. He over corrected the move, causing the vehicle to skid on the dry pavement.

Cat slowed down enough to leave plenty of escape room between herself and the unfocused driver. She expected him to over correct again and continue careening across the northbound lanes. She glanced into both rear view mirrors to make sure her companions were safe. Grim and Mud had also reduced their speed to match hers, maintaining their triangle formation.

"Asshat cager!" Cat muttered. She felt better knowing that her companions were as alert to the hazard as herself. 'They're probably just as used to stupid Illinois drivers!'

They were traveling northbound on Interstate 65, easily accessed from downtown. It was faster than going through the city as far as Cat was concerned. No traffic lights to worry about until they left the multi lane highway. The only street riding they had to contend with was between the apartment building and the entrance ramp and again when they left the interstate to get to the doctor's office. They traveled in a triangle formation in the middle lane so they wouldn't have to watch for traffic entering the interstate. There was also less opportunity for the cars and trucks to try to 'lane share' with the bikes.

The sign indicating their exit was a mile away flashed past them. Cat signaled her intent to merge into the right lane, followed by her two companions. The trio exited the interstate, made the hard left turn on the green onto Lafayette Road, and continued in the far left lane towards Georgetown Road. A left turn at that corner would take them to her doctor's medical building.

They were forced to stop at a red light that controlled the interchange for the exit to a shopping center on their left and a secondary street to the right. The roar of the idling bikes drowned out the other traffic noises.

Ever since the box truck had deliberately collided with her the night of the Peace Rally, Cat had fallen into the habit of watching the moving traffic at red lights. She saw a pick up truck make a fast lane change before she heard the increased roar of its' engine. There was no mistake that the truck was heading right at her.

---

'Brownie' swaggered triumphantly to the pick up, reassuringly patting the wad of bills stuffed in his inner jacket pocket. He had heard part of a radio advertisement about an event at the west side mall. There were multiple buyers set up to purchase gold jewelry, expensive watches, and other valuable items for cash. "Might be worth checkin' this out. Those gypsy buyers never check credentials. The pay off might be better than a pawn shop!"

A large number of buyers had rented vacant space in the mall on the side facing the interstate. It was easy for him to get to and get away from. He parked the truck but left the hoard locked in the cab while he canvassed the event space. He wanted to check out the various buyers before he made any any deals.

'This is gonna be great!' He enthused on his first trip back to the truck. 'I can dump all this shit right here with different buyers and not have to worry about it! They're payin' pretty damn decent money!'

He returned with the boxed silver service he'd lifted from Diane's apartment and strolled casually towards the silver buyer he'd chosen. He didn't have to wait long to be assisted. He worked up a plausible cover story to give the vendor while he waited.

By the time it was his turn to present his potential sale, 'Brownie' didn't have to say much of anything. The vendor opened the box, grunted approvingly, and uttered a price without asking him why he was selling.

'Brownie' knew from his observations that the vendors had set up shop in that mall for a particular reason; the sellers would be willing to take whatever they were offered with little haggling. Had the vendors wanted to part with a more princely sum, they would've chosen a different setting. That particular mall had lost several anchor stores and other businesses and was located in an economically depressed area of town.

"I'll take it!" 'Brownie' replied enthusiastically, acting as if he thought he'd been offered the moon. 'These fuckers aren't goin' to tolerate hagglin'. No sense creatin' a stir and arouse suspicions.'

He held out his hand while the vendor counted out the amount in small denominations. "I'll need ya to sign a receipt. Taxes ya know," the vendor added, shoving a paper across the table in front of 'Brownie'.

"Sure. Need to see ID?" He inquired.

"Nah, just sign and print your damn name and be quick about it!" The vendor growled, placing a cheap ink pen on top of the paper.

'Brownie' nodded and scrawled a name on the bottom of the sheet, then printed 'Blaine Marshall' under the scrawl. He felt a sense of perverse pleasure at tarnishing the dead minister's good name. 'If anyone happens to investigate the stolen goods, it'll only lead 'em to a 'dead' end!'

He turned away from the vendor's table, walked out of the event, and returned to the pick up. He opened the passenger door and locked the money in the glove compartment. Next he withdrew all the jewelery he'd hefted from Diane's apartment, stuffing his jeans and jacket pockets as full as possible without creating tell tale bulges.

He locked the passenger door and sauntered back to the vendor event, walking past the more 'legitimate' vendors that he'd observed checking ID to one that operated like the silver buyer. He only offered a few items to the next vendor for sale, accepted the offer, and scrawled Rev. Marshall's name on the receipts with a flourish before walking away from that vendor to conduct his next transaction.

An hour after he first entered the the event, 'Brownie' walked out several hundred dollars richer. 'Not a bad payout for an hour's worth of effort!' He grinned. The truck was a little warm from sitting in the sun, so he turned on the ignition to run the air condition while he retrieved his earlier pay out and stored all the bills with the rest of his cash stash.

He had enough money to purchase gas to return to Vincennes, and obtain another fake ID from his mercenary contacts. He contemplated his image in the sun visor's lighted vanity mirror. 'I think a really radical change is necessary if I expect to attend the funeral service,' he mused. 'Maybe get a couple of spray on tans so my skin is real dark and go bald. That'll throw the bitch off!'

Considering the thrashing he'd taken from the outlaws, 'Brownie' knew she would be keeping an eye out for him at the funeral home. He'd have to be careful not to arouse her suspicions. 'It'd be better if I just hang around the funeral home. There'll be too many people around there for me to do anything to her. Likely those fuckin' bikers will be around. She'll eventually be left alone, and that's when I'll strike!'

He was consumed with the need to get revenge. He knew he'd made a big mistake in disregarding Cat Marshall's abilities. 'She's no longer the easily led fat ass I could wrap around my little finger. I won't make that mistake again!'

Now that he had plenty of cash on hand, there was no reason to stay around Indianapolis. He needed to get to Vincennes before his prey. But before he could leave town, he needed to swap the truck's license plates. Though there were plenty of trucks in the mall parking lot, it was too exposed for his taste. He knew of some better places downtown where he could switch plates.

'Brownie' exited the mall parking lot onto northbound Lafayette Road. He planned to catch I-65 south to the downtown area. He had a habit of scanning approaching traffic from a distance, and grinned in delight when he saw Cat Marshall sitting on the motorcycle she'd been riding a few days earlier when he'd played 'chicken' with her. She and two companions were stopped in the southbound left lane.

'I can't believe this luck!' He thought in momentary panic. Then he remembered that the outlaws had never seen the pick up and a bold idea came to him. He slowly came to a stop at the traffic light for a large shopping center on his right and a city street on his left. Cat and her companions were catty – cornered from him. He smiled as an idea came to mind. Luck had placed an opportunity right in his lap, he'd be a fool not to take advantage of it.

'Brownie' placed the truck in neutral and applied pressure to the accelerator, watching the digital read outs showing the wheels speed. White smoke billowed from the tires as they raced in place on the asphalt. The engine roared in anticipation.

'Brownie' glanced in either direction for oncoming traffic, then popped the transmission into drive, making a hard left turn towards the stopped bikers, directly for Cat's idling bike.

---

Kozik sighed as he flipped the burner closed. Fawn's voice mail had answered, but he wasn't comfortable with leaving such bad news in a message. 'It's the kind of thing that needs to be delivered in person!' He tried Dawn's cell number only to receive a recording that the line was being checked for trouble. "I can't believe it! She rips off Cat and doesn't pay her cell bill! Jesus Christ!"

"Maybe she just hasn't had time," Ima mused. "It takes awhile to get used to a new town."

"I suppose so, but they're not makin' it easy to tell 'em what's goin' on!" Kozik complained. "I can't keep callin' those girls all day!"

"What about your daughter?"

"What about her?" Kozik frowned.

"You sent Dawn to stay with your daughter, didn't you?" Ima reminded him.

"You know I did, woman!" He snorted.

"Why don't you call her and ask her to have Dawn call you – or even better – have her tell Dawn the news?"

Kozik carefully considered Ima's suggestion. It made a lot of sense. He wouldn't have to keep taking time out to call the girls, and Kendra would be right there to comfort Dawn. It was a win/win situation. He kissed her soundly and grinned at her. "Baby, you're as smart as ya are easy on the eyes!"

"I'll take that as a compliment," Ima smiled. "How about if you walk me out to the car and then you can call your daughter in private?"

"Afraid Gemma might be lurkin'?" He grinned wickedly.

"Yes," she admitted. "You're my shield against the big bad biker queen."

"Just as long as you don't call me your knight in black leather!" Kozik muttered, matching his stride with hers as they left the clubhouse.

---

Cat's mind rapidly considered the possible options open to her to avoid being turned into a grease spot. She could try to accelerate from a standing position and turn right onto the secondary street, which meant crossing two other lanes of stopped traffic and moving in front of the speeding pick up. Or she could accelerate from the standing stop and make a left turn across three lanes of oncoming traffic and the out of control pick up.

She rejected both the minute they crossed her mind. Either would've worked if she'd been riding on her own. There was too much of a chance that one or both of the two bikers with her could be hurt. That left the third alternative; dropping the bike and darting across the three lanes of northbound traffic. 'It might mean doin' a bit of a dance to avoid oncomin' traffic, but it'll keep the guys from bein' hit by that frackin' pick up!' She shut off the engine and quickly dismounted the Yamaha, letting it fall as she stepped onto the concrete median.

"Cat! What the fuck are ya doin'?" Grim shouted. He and Mud saw the pick up truck barreling towards them at the same moment and prepared to take evasive action.

She didn't answer him; she was too intent on getting to the relative safety of the opposite curb. A loud warning blare of a car's horn went off before a vehicle struck her in the side and knocked her to the asphalt.

---

BZ and Cavey exchanged glances with their brothers. Jan's question didn't catch them off guard. They just weren't sure how much they could tell him.

"Let me make it easy on you," Jan added as the silence drew out "Lil Sis once dated and even lived with a real asshat decades ago. The guy nearly killed her in a doped up rage. He fled the state and stayed away. Dad and Cat thought he was gone for good, but the fucktard resurfaced a few years after she married her first husband. Guess he figured there was a statue of limitations on attempted murder."

The 'Illinois Boys' knew all that back story. It didn't give them any insights into how much they should share with Cat's brother.

Adrian and Chuckie were startled by Jan's admission. They'd never heard this bit of history about their employer. They had believed the attack by Weston and LOAN was the first time Cat had been nearly killed by an enemy.

"Our boss must have nine lives," Adrian murmured to his companion.

"I accept that," Chuckie whispered. "And damn glad of it!"

"Dad told Dan and I all about it after he married Mom. The fucker continuously harassed Dad to tell him how to find Sis, but Dad wouldn't budge. He eventually took out a restraining order on that shitheel's ass," Jan added grimly. "I have no love for that bastard, if that's what you're worried about."

"We 'ad to be sure, mate," Cavey replied.

"Her husband knew she might be in danger in comin' back to the state from that asshole," BZ continued. "So he asked our charters – which are the closest – to watch out for her."

"It was a good thing we were 'ere," Cavey added, relating to Jan and the other new arrivals of 'Brownie's' harassment of Blaine in the hospital, Cat's unmasking of 'him and how the club and her two riding buddies punished the miscreant.

"If it weren't for her stubborn need to be certain, we'd have taken care of business a lot earlier!" Shank muttered.

"But she was right in the long run," Ron spoke up. "Her research left no doubt in any of our minds that we were doing the right thing."

Jan nodded slightly in affirmation of the information Ron didn't verbally give. He agreed that the men had handled it right. 'I just wish they'd finished the job!' He thought grimly. "That sounds like my sister!" He grinned wryly. "If there's something that needs research, she's on it like a dog after a favorite bone!"

"Is it goin' to be a problem that we're comin' to Vincennes?" BZ inquired.

"No," Jan replied after a few moments consideration. "I'm happy that Lil Sis is bein' so well looked after. Just because you guys whupped his ass doesn't mean he's going to give up getting back at her."

"Why does he want to hurt Miss Cat in the first place?" Chuckie asked.

Jan sighed deeply. "It's a long story, Chuckie."

"It's not like we have anything else to do while she's at the doctor's," Adrian pointed out.

Ron and Vic nodded in agreement. "We only know that he's held one Hell of a long grudge," Ron added. "It'd really help to know the full story."

Jan gazed at the men, wanting to make sure they wanted to know for his sister's sake, and not just to satisfy some sense of morbid curiosity. He nodded slightly and relaxed. "You might as well get comfortable, this is going to take awhile."

---

"OK, Daddy. I'll tell her," Kendra Kozik assured her father after he explained the need for her assistance. "She probably hasn't gotten around to payin' her cell bill yet. She's been rather busy lately."

Kozik winced at the acid in his daughter's voice. Kendra sounded a bit like her mother used to talk whenever he said or did something that pissed her off, which was all the time towards the end of their marriage. 'She's a lot like her mother in that regard. I'm not sure if I like that!'

"We're getting together tonight," she added, unaware of her father's mental comparison to her and her mother.

"I thought she was stayin' with you!" Kozik exclaimed. He was sitting outside the clubhouse under his awning. He'd gone there to talk privately with his daughter after seeing Ima safely to her Mercedes.

Gemma watched them through the open office door, but other than rolling her eyes, the biker queen didn't acknowledge Ima's departure. She watched Kozik walk away from the car and sit down at the picnic table. Before she could move to go to him, Kozik had pulled out his burner. She continued to watch him while she worked.

"She moved out yesterday. Got her own apartment and a car," Kendra stated flatly.

"Oh really," Kozik drawled. "That was fast."

"Well, it's not like she was flat broke busted," Kendra remarked dryly. "She wants to show off her new digs. Figured I might as well get it over with."

"As much as Cat would want her to know this, I hope you won't rub Dawnie's nose in it just to get back at her for flaunting her wealth," Kozik mused.

"C'mon, Daddy!" Kendra protested. "I'm not that mean!"

'Her mother would've been!' Kozik breathed an inward sigh of relief from that admission. At least his daughter was completely like her mother!. "I know, honey, but it never hurts to make sure. Maybe the news will nudge Dawnie's conscience!"

"That's another thing, Daddy. She changed her name and is called 'Margeaux' now."

"Margo?"

"She puts an 'X' at the end of it. I helped her get her a job at my studio and she's gone total diva. Won't answer to Dawn at all!" Kendra snorted.

"There's always a first time," Kozik pointed out.

"I suppose so," Kendra replied doubtfully. "Frankly, I doubt 'Margeaux' would care one bit about a step grandparent she never met."

"Maybe they never met face to face, but they spoke on the phone a few times. Accordin' to Tig, Cat's father expressed genuine affection for Daw – er, 'Margeaux'," Kozik explained.

"Only because he never had to spend any face time with her!" Kendra huffed.

"Was puttin' her up that hard on ya?"

"I'll put it this way, a double root canal would've been less painful," Kendra admitted ruefully. "I'll be honest with you, Daddy; 'Margeaux's' thievery might've been a good thing."

"How the fuck can ya say that?" Kozik exclaimed.

"Because she moved out in time to keep me from killin' the gash!" Kendra laughed.

'She's her mother's daughter a'right!' Kozik rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I really appreciate ya doin' this, Kendra. Cat will appreciate it too."

"I'll let you know what happens, Daddy. Give 'Uncle Tiggy' my love when you next see him."

"I will. Love you, baby."

"Love you, too, Daddy," Kendra closed her cell phone and stared intently at it for a few moments. "I seriously doubt Cat could give a shit whether 'Margeaux' knows about her father kickin' the bucket! She's turned into one selfish bitch!"

Within a week of arriving in LA, Dawn landed a talent position with Kendra's producer, purchased a car, and found an apartment nearby. She paid a year's rent for the apartment, paid cash in full for the car, and then went on a spending spree to outfit herself and her new digs.

To celebrate her new lifestyle, Dawn began referring to herself as Margeaux. Their employer suggested the name change when he hired Dawn.

"Why can't I use my name?" Dawn inquired hotly.

"Security for one," the producer explained. "There's too many strange fuckers out there. It's best for you to have a stage name. Lots of entertainers do it."

"What's the other reason?" Dawn challenged.

"Because I said so," the producer grinned.

"If that's the case, I'll just use it all the time," Dawn huffed. From that moment on, everyone was required to refer to her as 'Margeaux'. If they called her by her real first name, she pretended not to hear them.

'I don't know how much money she took from 'Uncle' Tig's wife, but she's been spendin' it on herself like it grows on trees!' Kendra thought a bit jealously. Except for paying her three times the amount of rent for staying with her when she moved out, Kendra hadn't reaped any other benefits from her friend's windfall.

It was hard for Kendra not to feel envious over 'Margeaux's' deep pockets when the other girl strutted around showing off her new clothes and jewelry. Kendra had to scrimp and save for any luxury. She made fairly good money but the cost of living in LA was high. The producer she worked for didn't give his talent any percentage of sales, just a flat fee per film. By the time she paid her rent, insurance, and other incidentals, there was little left for frivolous spending.

'It's better than workin' for a pimp, but not much!' She observed wryly. 'He's better than most, especially those Far Eastern producers. Some of those are real assholes and treat their women like dirt.' Which was the reason she refused to work for them, despite the lucrative income they offered.

'I could get a roommate to split the costs, but if I learned anything from lettin' 'Margeaux' crash with me, it's that I prefer not havin' to share space!' Kendra winced, recalling the pitfalls she encountered over the days after 'Margeaux's' arrival. Some of her habits got on Kendra's last nerve, though she tried not to let things get to her. It was quite a relief when 'Margeaux' announced she was moving out.

Kendra didn't have many friends in LA. She got along well enough with her fellow porn actresses, but she didn't trust them. ''Margeaux' can be selfish and thoughtless, but she's the best friend I've ever had! I hope this news doesn't devastate her.'

---

Brownie' chortled when he saw his nemesis dismount the bike and let it fall to the pavement. 'She's makin' it easier for me!' His glee changed to curses when she darted into the northbound lanes in an attempt to race across to the opposite curb.

"Shit!' He swore, hitting the brake and wrenching the steering wheel hard to the left. 'Just once I wish things would go my way where that bitch is concerned!' He glared up at the heavens, cursing at the Creator he didn't believe in. 'Thanks for nothin'!' The pick up's tires squealed in protest against the hard turn. He let up on the accelerator and kept his foot off the brake in a desperate attempt to keep the truck from rolling over from the force of the turn.

The Creator he'd mocked seemed to be looking out for him. The truck didn't roll over, nor run off the road into the metal sign supporting the gas station sign at the corner. 'Brownie' held on tight to the steering wheel and laid his forearm against the horn to warn a car exiting the gas station of his presence.

The car screeched to a sudden stop as the pick up sped by, missing the front bumper by a few inches. The driver of that car laid on the horn, raising his middle finger in protest at 'Brownie'.

The only other bit of good luck was that the bikers weren't in a position to give immediate pursuit. They were hemmed in by the stopped traffic to their right and the fallen motorcycle in front of them.

He heard a car horn blare and the unmistakable sound of a motor vehicle hitting a body behind him. He didn't dare move his gaze from the road ahead to check the rear view. 'Maybe some lucky bastard did the deed for me!' He laughed at how quickly his luck had changed for the better.

He relaxed his iron grip on the steering wheel and sped away from the intersection. He was then able to spare a glance into the rear view mirror and grinned wickedly at the chaos left in his wake.

---

Grim and Mud turned off their bike engines and put the kickstands down to the pavement in one motion. They hopped off their bikes and started running towards the pick up truck. They were upset and angry over the driver's carelessness and were going to let him know it.

Their attention turned from their mission when they heard the blare of a car horn followed by the sound of a body being struck by a moving vehicle. "Shit!" Grim screamed.

"She's been run over!" Mud cried at the same moment.

They stopped and turned back to face the intersection, dreading the worst. To their relief, Cat was rolling back to their side of the median, away from the car that had struck her. That vehicle had stopped and put its' warning lights on.

Mud turned back to glare at the rapidly retreating pick up. "Shitbird!" He yelled, shaking a fist in anger at the driver.

"Forget him! We need to check on Miss Cat!" Grim retorted, rushing towards the fallen woman. He was concerned because she was laying on her back next to the concrete divider. He feared that she might have sustained injuries from either the fall or the impact.

Cat lay staring up at the sky, working to get her breath back from the impact. A shadow passed over her face as Grim gazed down at her. "I'm OK," she assured him, slowly sitting up. "Just scared a few years life out of me!"

"You don't look a'right to me!" Mud Ball retorted.

"Ya scared a few years' life outta us, too!" Grim added, holding his hands out in a gesture to assist her from the ground. "It's a good thing you're on the way to the doc's, now she's gonna have to treat ya for road rash!"

Cat grunted and put her hands in Grim's, allowing him to help her stand up. "Don't worry about me, all y'all get after that idiot driver before he finds a hidin' place! There was nothin' accidental about this!" She fought back a grimace of pain. Her palms were scratched and bleeding from impact with the concrete and her body was beginning to hurt from being hit by the car.

"What the fuck were you thinking, bitch?" The male driver of the car that hit her yelled as he stormed from his car, cell phone clenched in one hand.

"Didn't ya see that fuckin' truck try to hit her?" Mud growled, balling his hands into fists and turning to the scared, angry cager.

"Take it easy, darlin'," Cat admonished quietly enough that the driver didn't hear her. "You two follow that truck; I'll deal with the cager. He's probably called the cops."

Mud and Grim exchanged worried glances. A tussle with local law enforcement was something they didn't need.

"Ya think?" Grim snarled.

"She's right. I'll got after the shitbird," Mud growled, racing to his bike. "Stay with her, make sure she gets to the doc's!" Mud ran the greater risk in hanging around; Grim didn't have as many felony counts against him.

"No, go with him," Cat informed Grim. "I can get my bike up on my own. There's too many places that asshat can hide!"

Grim shook his head. "No sense in me tryin' to follow," he rumbled. "No way we're takin' any more chances with your safety!"

Cat started to protest, but Grim held up a restraining hand. "No arguin', woman!" He retorted sharply.

'Frackin' alpha attitude! I don't need this right now!' She glared icily at the biker, who smiled wolfishly at her.

"Guilty as charged, but don't worry. Mud's good at findin' needles in a haystack."

The outraged driver glared at the two bikers and pointed at the small dent in his car. "Who's gonna pay for that?" He demanded.

"That little thing?" Cat growled angrily, adrenaline still coursing through her from the near miss. "Y'all have bigger hail dents in the roof! Go get one of those pop dent things!"

Mud Ball's bike roared from the intersection as the distant wail of an emergency vehicle sounded in the air. He raced up the secondary road in the direction the pick up had taken.

Cat hoped he'd catch up to the crazy driver before he found his way to 38th Street and hid in one of the many shopping centers located on either side of the multi – lane road. 'Those shopping plaza's have a lot of nooks and crannies that would give Alex a run for his money in findin' the fucktard!'

---

Gemma left the office door open to allow a little fresh air in and keep watch for Ima's eventual departure. She sniffed with disdain when she saw Kozik escorting the porn star to her car. 'Thank God the gash has never been one for excessive PDA," Gemma sighed in relief as the pair said goodbye to each other. She got up from behind the desk to confront Kozik once the Mercedes was rolling towards the street.

As Gemma started out of the office, Kozik strode to the picnic table under the awning in front of the clubhouse, sat down, and withdrew his burner. She leaned against the doorway of the office, and lit a new cigarette. 'I have a feeling he's callin' Tig's girls. This might not take long, but we'll see.'

She finished her cigarette while he spoke into the phone on his second attempt. When he closed the burner, she tossed the cigarette to the ground and strode across the lot.

Kozik sighed in resignation as Gemma approached. 'I suppose she wants to get on my ass about Ima. It's not happenin' right now!' He decided to beat her to the punch by announcing, "I wasn't able to reach Fawn."

"Looked like you managed to talk to Dawn," Gemma replied.

"No, her cell's turned off for non payment. I asked Kendra to relay the news."

Gemma frowned and sat down across from Kozik. "Is that wise?"

"You know Kendra will handle it right," Kozik bristled.

"That's not what I meant," Gemma replied consolingly. "I just wondered if Cat would want Dawn to know given the circumstances."

Gemma didn't need to elaborate. Nor was Kozik surprised that she knew about the theft Dawn had committed. Gemma had her ways of learning club business that she didn't need to know about. The patched members were used to it.

"Yeah, she would," Kozik sighed. "Cat tends to be more forgivin' then the lot of us."

"Yeah," Gemma sighed. "Kendra say how Dawn's fairing?"

"She's got her own place, a job, and a car," Kozik explained. He'd completely forgotten about Dawn's new name.

"Well, she works fast," Gemma drawled. "I would've thought she would've taken her time and mooched off your kid for awhile."

"Kendra's place is kinda small," Kozik growled. "Obviously Dawn felt it wise to get her own place and not have a fallin' out with my girl."

Gemma wasn't deaf to the implied warning in Kozik's remark. She decided it would be prudent to change the subject. "The planter's been ordered. All the florist needs is the name of the funeral home and it'll be delivered."

"Good," Kozik barked. He stood up and turned away from the biker queen. "I'll tell Chibs," he added over his shoulder, disappearing inside the safety of the clubhouse.

Gemma frowned at the biker's audacity at growling at her and leaving so abruptly. She had intended to make her dissatisfaction known to Kozik, but it was obvious he wasn't going to let that happen. 'There'll be other chances. That gash might've included me in the club's funeral plans for Cat, but that doesn't get her off my shit list!'

---

'Brownie' relaxed as the pick up raced around a curve and out of sight of the chaotic intersection he left behind. 'I hope she got squashed like a bug against a windshield!' He smiled broadly at the mental image his words provoked. 'There might even wind up bein' a double funeral!'

He glanced back into the rear view mirror and nearly choked. One of the Harleys that had been traveling with Cat was following him at breakneck speed. 'Shit! I'd better make tracks!'

His foot came down on the accelerator, sending the pick up truck lurching down the straight road towards the busy 38th Street corridor. "If I can get enough of a lead on that fucker, I can hide out in one of the shopping centers! He'll never find me there!"

The light changed to yellow as the truck approached the intersection with the wide major street. 'Brownie' didn't let up on the accelerator as he wrenched the steering wheel to make the right turn.

The tires screeched in protest as the truck fishtailed around the corner while the yellow light changed to red. He continued accelerating as the truck straightened out of the turn, smoke pouring from the tires. He raced towards the next intersection, rapidly changing lanes to avoid rear ending the slower moving vehicles ahead of him.

He glanced in the rear view mirror again after shooting through the intersection on green and laughed in relief. The pursuing Harley was no longer chasing him. It was stopped at the intersection he'd just left by the red light and the procession of traffic following in his wake.

His relief was short lived as the Harley made a sudden right on red in front of an box truck onto 38th Street. A box truck's air horn blared an angry protest after the pursuing motorcycle. The rider didn't acknowledge the horn. He was too busy darting from one lane to another in an effort to catch up with 'Brownie'.

He estimated that he had about a block and half lead on the approaching bike. He put more pressure on the accelerator and raced on down the busy street. He looked anxiously for an escape route.

Rescue arrived in the form of a sign indicating a mega grocery/department store entrance was coming up to his right. A dual lane road led from 38th Street to the lot housing the large building. 'If I can reach that parking lot, the fucker won't have a chance in Hell of finding me!'

'Brownie' negotiated the right turn without slowing down and raced along the pot hole filled roadway. The truck's shock absorbers did little to diminish the vibration of the tires entering and exiting the chuckholes at high speed. He wasn't wearing a seat belt and had to hold tight to the steering wheel to keep from being jostled out from behind it.

'Brownie' checked his rear view again. 'This road's in such bad shape that outlaw won't take it as fast. Not if he doesn't wanna lay it down on the first pot hole!'

The road led him to the acres large parking lot. Most of the parked vehicles were clustered between the two entrances of the behemoth building. Instead of parking out in front, 'Brownie' directed the pick up to the back of the building where delivery trucks were parked. 'I'll stand a better chance of not bein' found back here! That fucktard will never think of lookin' here!'

He pulled between two large semi trucks, rolled down the window on the passenger side of the cab, and turned off the ignition. It was strangely quiet in the back of the store, allowing him to hear the traffic beyond the building. A few minutes later, he heard the Harley roar into the parking lot and idle for a bit.

'Brownie' smiled as he imagined the biker's expression of dismay at the sight of all the vehicles. The low roar of the engine comfirmed his belief that the biker would ride up and down the rows of parked vehicles in search of the truck.

'This is my best chance to make a clean getaway!' He started the truck engine and rolled slowly back the way he'd entered towards the road way, made a right turn, and headed back to 38th Street.

He glanced into the rear view mirror several times as he approached the intersection, making sure the Harley wasn't following him. His progress was halted briefly by the red light at the intersection, then he turned right and proceeded along 38th Street towards I-465, which looped the city.

'Brownie' continued to relax as he drew near the interstate exchange without the Harley showing up in the rear view. 'The fucktard must still be scourin' the parkin' lot!' He chortled as he piloted the truck onto the exit ramp and merged safely onto the interstate. He headed southbound, intending to travel around the loop back to I-65, where he could travel northbound to the downtown area.

'Brownie' pumped a celebratory first in the air. "You'll never find me now, buttmunch!"

---

Mud Ball swore as he traveled down the last row of parked vehicles, looking for the pick up truck that had tried to run over Cat. He engaged the clutch and revved his engine in frustration. The engine's roar seemed to echo his frustration.

A few pedestrians gazed inquiringly at him before turning their attention back to unloading plastic bags from their carts into their vehicles. Mud ignored them and piloted the bike towards the back of the mega box store. 'Dunno why I'm botherin' to look. The asshat's prolly long gone!'

The search proved as fruitless as he expected. He snorted in frustration and pulled to a stop at the delivery lane entrance. "Shit!" He pounded his leg and contemplated calling the police. All he had to offer the cops was a general description of the truck and the last known direction it was traveling. 'Like they'd go lookin' for the shitbird for messin' with a few bikers!' He snorted dryly. He pulled his burner from his pocket and tapped out an inquiry to Grim.

Grim righted the Yamaha while Cat dealt with the angry car owner and the investigating officer. The Yamaha didn't look too bad, though some gas had escaped out of the tank while it was down. 'I'll let it alone for a bit; make sure the gas dries up before we try to start it.'

He expected Cat to call him over to bolster her story to the police officer, but it never happened. Several other drivers had stopped to make sure she was okay and had given statements to the cop that matcher her version of events.

"I suggest you go ahead and get out of here," the cop informed the outraged driver. "Seems like the lady here is all right and the damage to your car is negligible."

"Negligible!" The driver snorted. "Look at it!"

"I've seen worse hail damage, sir," the cop replied. "If we find the responsible vehicle, you're welcome to file a claim with his insurance. I wish someone had managed to get a full license plate number." He turned away from the car owner and added to Cat, "Are you sure you don't want an ambulance?"

"I'm sure," she assured him. "My doctor's office is just a couple of blocks away, and if my bike isn't runnin' my friend will get me there." she pointed over her shoulder at her uprighted bike and Grim, who was standing next to it.

The cop nodded reluctantly and handed her a white card. "That's the case number in case you need it."

"I won't hold my breath waitin' for all y'all to catch the idiot," Cat replied, tucking the card in her jeans pocket. "He's probably long gone by now." She didn't mention that her other companion had gone off after the pick up.

She walked away from the still protesting car owner, stepping gingerly onto the median. She was growing more stiff and sore by the minute and winced from the pain that radiated through her.

The cop shouted orders for the crowd to disperse and clear the intersection. Car doors slammed behind her as they reluctantly obeyed.

The car owner that had hit her continued verbally badgering the police officer, who tersely informed the man that he had no beef with Cat and he needed to leave the area. "If you keep this up I'll have no choice but to arrest you for loitering!"

The car owner huffed in frustration and returned to his car, slammed the door closed, and raced the engine a couple of times. Then he sedately pulled away from the scene.

The cop nodded at Cat and Grim on his way back to his cruiser. "I'll wait long enough to see if your bike starts," he explained. "If you need to move it to the gas station lot, I'll stop traffic for you."

Cat mounted her bike and turned the key to the 'on' position. The spilled gas had dried and Grim had put the transmission in neutral. "C'mon baby, start for me!" She murmured encouragingly, pressing the electronic ignition with her thumb.

The Yahama obeyed her, engaging on the first try. She revved the engine, listening for any engine damage. Satisfied that it was fine, she gave the officer a thumbs up and glanced at Grim, who was mounting his Harley.

The cop pulled away as the light changed to green. The two bikes moved smoothly forward as the police car pulled off in the opposite direction.

Tig didn't show up at dinner, which worried the club. Bobby had reported earlier to Clay on his findings from the Mayan's guard. He shared intel with their brothers during the meal.

"Chibs and Koz were here this mornin'," Bobby informed them. "Guard couldn't say what they were talkin' about. Said Chibs and Kozik both looked sad about somethin' and Tig wasn't talkin' when they left."

"I've got a bad feelin' about this," Clay muttered. It was unusual for Tig to shut himself off from his brothers. In prison it could be downright dangerous. Even with protection in place, they weren't willing to make themselves easy targets by being caught alone.

After Jax was shived by one of the Russian mafia while waiting on his own to use a payphone, Clay decreed that no one was to travel about the prison unaccompanied. Everyone had obeyed that directive until now. The Prez ordered a thorough search of the prison to locate their missing brother. They split up to make the search go that much faster.

Clay eventually found his friend sitting alongside the fence near the highway, as far from the other inmates loitering in the exercise yard as he could get. A lit cigarette that had nearly burned to the tip was hanging from his mouth. His arms were draped over his knees, which were drawn up against his chest.

'Now how in the Hell did we manage to miss seein' him out here earlier?' Clay huffed, prowling towards his SAA.

Tig didn't acknowledge Clay's presence, though the Prez' shadow blocked the sun's glare. He saw Clay approach, but didn't feel like talking.

Clay stood looking down at him for several long minutes. "What's wrong, brother?" He rumbled inquiringly.

'Shit! He'll stay after me til I talk!' Tig glared furiously at his friend, but Clay didn't flinch. "Everything," Tig finally huffed, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and grinding it viciously into the dirt.

"Must be to have you mopin' around like this," Clay replied, crossing his arms over his chest and inhaling on his cigar. "Care to share?"

Tig's expression melted into one of pain and anguish. "Cat's father died last night."

"Shit!" Clay groaned, sliding down the fence to sit next to his friend. "I'm sorry, brother."

"Thanks," Tig sighed, recognizing that the Prez was sincere in his sympathy. "He was one Helluva man."

"You respected him," Clay observed, taking a long pull from his cigar.

"Yeah. Like a lot," Tig acknowledged quietly. "Don't usually give a shit about civilians' opinion of me."

"But his mattered," Clay observed. "Apparently he didn't just accept you because of his daughter."

Tig shrugged. "Maybe he did. Doesn't really matter now. He just welcomed me into the family."

"That's rare, a'right," Clay remarked. "Nate never accepted me. He was barely tolerant of me."

Tig nodded, recalling Nate's reaction to seeing Clay and Jax in his kitchen months earlier. "Blaine didn't have all the facts about me like Nate had on you. Cat gave him a heavily edited version."

Clay shook his head in disagreement. "From what I've heard, Cat's father was smart. He prolly knew Cat was tellin' him a fairy tale."

"Ya think I've not thought of that?" Tig growled. "If he did, he never confronted her or me about it."

Clay took a long drag on his cigar. "Man, it's obvious to anyone with eyeballs in their head how much ya love the woman. He went along with it because he could see she was happy."

"And Nate couldn't see that JT and you make Gem happy?" Tig countered. He'd been wondering about that ever since he and Gemma visited Rev. Madoc after Rose died.

"Dunno about how Nate felt about JT. Don't care, either. None of my business," Clay replied on an exhale of fragrant cigar smoke. "He didn't like it that she ran off in the first place and married a biker like JT. It was pretty hard on him when she chose to stay in the life instead of comin' back to her family."

"Gem's got a lot of love for her dad," Tig remarked. "Even though his mind was foggy, he loves her just as fierce."

"Always has. Maybe she would've spun a tale about me to Nate if things had been different." Clay inhaled again and added, "I respect Nate. Always have."

"I feel – felt – the same way about Blaine," Tig replied, struggling with tenses. It was hard for him to accept that the gentle, kind man he'd let into his life was gone. "He's - he was - strong in his belief, but he doesn't force it on people. Not like some of those Bible thumpers that point at ya and holler that you're goin' to Hell if ya don't repent. He has – had my respect."

"Seems to me he had more than your respect," Clay observed. "You loved the guy."

Tig remained silent as he contemplated Clay's remark. "Yeah," he sighed. "Guess it doesn't really matter now."

"It matters," Clay rumbled gruffly. "Any word on your old lady?"

"None. She's not reached out."

Clay nearly swallowed his cigar. "Not even to Chibs?"

Tig glanced out of the side of his eye at Clay, then turned his gaze back out across the exercise yard. "Guess she's kinda busy makin' arrangements. It's prolly keepin' her from climbin' the walls."

Clay nodded sagely. "That sounds likely," he rumbled, thinking about how she 'took charge' when Gem went on the lam and Half – Sack was killed. The clubhouse has been full of civilians the club was protecting during the show down with Zobelle. Cat signed herself out of the hospital in order to provide them with a safe, quiet place to mourn their loss and Abel's kidnapping. "You'll be talkin' to her tonight."

"Absolutely," Tig replied. "I know she's capable of handling this shit, but I hear her voice, assure her I give a shit."

Something in Tig's voice set off alarm bells in Clay's mind. "Listen, brother. I know ya feel bad about bein' stuck in here – "

"It's not just about this particular instance, Clay," Tig retorted. "Seems like every time somethin's happened to disturb Cat, I've not been there for her because of the club."

"What are you saying, brother?" Clay couldn't believe his ears. As much as he loved Gemma, he'd never think about giving up the club for her; not that she'd ever ask him to do such a thing.

Tig sighed wearily. "I'm not sure what I'm thinking, Clay. Someone I respected has died, and it's hurtin' the woman I love. She's dealin' with this all alone, and she shouldn't have to."

"True dat," Clay agreed reluctantly. "So are ya sayin' you're gonna leave the club?"

"It's been on my mind the last few hours, brother," Tig admitted.

Clay inhaled on his cigar, then blew a few smoke rings, watching them dissipate into the air above them. "Cat's dad would still be dead," he observed. "You droppin' outta the club wouldn't change that."

"Least next time somethin' happens, I'll be there where I should be!" Tig retorted.

'Man, he's takin' this to heart!' Clay sighed inwardly. He remained silent for a few moments before observing, "You're hurtin', brother; that's messin' with your thinkin'."

Tig turned his head to glare fiercely at the Prez. "Yeah, I'm hurtin', and so is my woman!"

"You leavin' the club won't change that, Tig," Clay stated gruffly. "I'm not denyin' you're in pain, and ya feel guilty for not bein' with your woman. I understand that."

"A person can change," Tig stubbornly insisted.

"And there's a lot of sayin's about leopards not changin' their spots and teachin' old dogs new tricks," Clay responded.

Tig's lips twitched into a sardonic grin. "Who you callin' old, man?"

"Both of us," Clay grinned back. "Hell, brother, we've all thought about goin' straight at one time or another. Anyone who says otherwise is a lyin' through his teeth. You're hurtin' right now, I got that. But don't make a life alterin' decision on account of that hurt."

"Easy for you to say," Tig growled. "Your woman isn't thousands of miles away nursin' her hurt alone."

"Have ya had a chance to talk to her yet?"

Tig shook his head. "Tried earlier. Voice mail. Figured I'd try at the regular time."

"You'll prolly feel better after ya talk to her. Cat's a strong woman, brother. She doesn't strike me as the type that needs someone else to fight her battles for her – literally and figuratively. Kinda like Gemma in that respect."

"'Cept mine doesn't hit first and ask questions later," Tig remarked wryly. He sighed and tossed the butt of his latest cigarette in front of him. "A'right, brother. I'll see how I feel later tonight. That's all I can promise for now."

Clay sighed inwardly with relief. He knew time healed all wounds, even the spiritual ones. He believed Tig would make the right choice in the long run. 'He'll decide to stay in the club. He doesn't know any other way.' He stood up, trying not to groan from the effort. "C'mon."

"Where we goin'?" Tig squinted up at him.

"There's a few guys who've been lookin' for your sorry ass," Clay growled. "They've been worried someone might've shivved ya."

Tig grinned crookedly and stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants. "My ass has a little dirt on it, but there's nothin' sorry about it!"

---

'Brownie' continued driving southbound along the loop, intent on getting to the downtown business district and the covered parking lots there. 'I don't think those dimwits had time to copy the plate, much less give it to any investigatin' cops. I'm not takin' any chances. The sooner I switch these plates, the better!'

He was also trying to determine which of the many routes between Indianapolis and Vincennes he should take. 'If Cat isn't a grease spot in the road or laid up in the hospital, she'll be hightailin' it back there herself. Those fuckwads will be followin' right behind!'

He didn't intend to wait around to see which route Cat and her posse would take. He'd just take the longest route as soon as he switched plates and be done with it. He believed Cat would opt for the quickest one in order to get to Vincennes as soon as possible.

Curiosity got the better of him and he turned on the truck radio, tuning it to the local all news station. The top of the hour might have something on the incident at the intersection. The top story of the hour was the traffic jam on 38th Street. Instead of delivering the good news he wanted to hear, the newscaster announced no fatalities or major property damage had occurred.

"Shit!" He screamed in protest, pounding his fist on the steering wheel. He grimly pushed his frustration over his continued bad luck in removing Cat Marshall as an obstacle in his life to manuever onto I-65 North and then the Washington Street exit. He followed the old National Highway into the downtown area, cruising the area until he found an unattended parking lot where he could make the plate switch.

Many of the downtown parking garages were either private parking and accessible only with a coded card, or had an attendant stationed at the entrance. He found what he needed at Meridian and 10th Street; an ungated, unmanned, and very poorly lit parking lot under the interstate overpass.

He pulled into the lot and cruised through it, taking note of the different kinds of trucks like his and the plate numbers until he found one to his liking. 'Brownie' also looked for security cameras. It wouldn't do for the plate exchange to be caught on camera for police to see. Once he was assured he wouldn't have a 'candid camera' moment, he parked the pick up in a vacant space and walked to the rear of the vehicle he'd chosen.

Seconds later, he walked towards the vehicle he'd chosen and squatted behind the bed to unfasten its license plate. He replaced his pick up's plate for the stationary one and returned to his truck to attach the stolen plate. The entire process took less than five minutes. 'Brownie' pulled out of the parking lot and continued towards Monument Circle. He planned to pick up Interstate 70, and hook up with US 231 so he would avoid Terre Haute.

---

Cat dismounted from the bike, leaving her borrowed helmet setting between the gas tank and handle bars. She ran her hands through her hair to fluff it up. "This is one of the reasons I don't like to wear helmets!" She grumbled.

Grim pointed to the scratches on it. "I shudder to think what would've happened if ya hadn't been wearin' it this time!"

Cat shrugged and began limping from the parking lot towards the building entrance. Grim trailed reluctantly after her. He didn't like doctor's offices and avoided them whenever he could, but he had a job to perform and he was going to see it through, no matter how uneasy it made him.

They waited for the elevator to arrive from the second floor. The building was only two floors high, but Cat was too sore to try to use the stairs as she normally would.

Cat limped from the elevator to the reception area to check in, Grim still following behind her. He was visibly sweating, though the air conditioner was running full force.

"My goodness! I thought you were just here to talk to the doctor!" The receptionist exclaimed the minute she laid eyes on the scratches on Cat's face and nose.

"Had a little incident on Lafayette Road," Cat explained. "Out of control pick up truck tried to make me part of the pavement."

"I'd hate to see what you'd look like if he'd hadn't missed!"

Cat shrugged and took a seat in the waiting area. Grim pushed his fear aside to wait with her. His knees knocked together in double time, the only outward sign of his nervousness.

"Relax, Grim, y'all don't have to wait with me," Cat assured him. "I suspect you'd be more comfortable waitin' outside with the bikes."

"Ya sure you don't mind?" Grim asked as he stood up.

"Go on with your bad self!" She grinned.

"I'll see ya outside!" Grim raced out of the office as fast as his feet would carry him, leaving Cat smiling ruefully over a big bad biker being fearful of a doctor's office waiting room.

A few moments' later, the nurse stuck her head out of the exam area door and called Cat's name and watched as she limped towards her. "My goodness! What happened?"

"Almost got hit by an out of control pick up truck. I had to abandon the bike and try to get across the street to avoid gettin' hit and got struck by a car."

"Why didn't you go to the hospital?" The nurse exclaimed as she led Cat to an exam room.

"I was already comin' here," she replied. "Why go to the hospital for minor injuries? The car had just made a turn and wasn't going very fast."

The nurse shook her head and proceeded to take Cat's vital signs. After she made some notes in an electronic notepad, she removed a gown from a drawer and laid it on the table. "You'd best get undressed so Dr. Pinkerton can exam and treat your injuries," she instructed while closing the blinds.

"Do I have to get starkers?"

The nurse grinned slightly. "You can leave your undies and footware on. Everything else comes off." She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Cat gingerly removed her pants and shirt, grimacing when the shirt rubbed against the road rash on her arms and face. She grimaced again when she saw a large, purple and black bruise on her hip where the car had hit her. 'Damn! That's goin' to smart later!' She shrugged into the hospital gown and sat down on the edge of the exam table to await the doctor's arrival.

A few moments later, Dr. Pinkerton rapped on the door and entered when Cat bade her to do so. "I understand you're having quite a time of it!"

"That's the understatement of the year!" Cat remarked wryly. "Guess y'all are aware that Daddy died last night."

"I'm so sorry, Cat. That's why I suggested you come in," the doctor replied softly, giving her patient a warm hug. "This has to be rough on you."

"I've experienced easier times, that's for sure!"

Dr. Pinkerton opened the gown and ran a practiced eye over the scrapes and bruises. "Most of these are superficial, but I don't like the look of that bruise, so you'll be making a stop at imaging before you leave the building."

"If you insist," she sighed in resignation.

"I insist. You sound pretty unhappy, and it's not a wonder! Why don't you lay back on the table and relax while I treat these wounds?"

"Sounds good to me," Cat replied, sliding back on the table until she could rest her head against the pillow. Dr. Pinkerton helped her lower her upper body against the table.

"So tell me about your life in California. My cousin has told me a few things, but it's nice to hear it from the horse's mouth."

Cat was well aware that her doctor and friend was redirecting her thoughts away from her current concerns. She appreciated the gesture and knew she could tell the doctor what was reallygoing on in her life. She chose not to tell her doctor any details about the club and its' business, just that Alex was a one percenter and currently in jail. Nor did she mention the trouble she was having from her ancient nemesis, 'Brownie'.

Dr. Pinkerton listened closely while she cleaned the various cuts and scrapes on Cat's body. None of the injuries required stitches, but a few pieces of asphalt imbedded in her palms had to extracted. Though the doctor tried to be gentle, Cat hissed air through her teeth from the pain.

Except for the very dark bruise on her patient's hip, the doctor wasn't too worried about Cat's physical condition. Her concern for her patient's mental well-being grew when the woman began weeping.

"I'm sorry," Cat sniffed. "I don't mean to be a crybaby."

Dr. Pinkerton patted her arm in a consoling manner. "You're not being a cry baby, my dear. Considering everything on your plate, you're entitled to be emotional. Go ahead and let it out; that's what I'm here for."

She murmured comforting phrases as Cat continued crying. 'She's really been handling a lot of stress, lately!' She frowned. 'Having an outlaw biker for a spouse isn't easy in the first place, much less having him in prison at a time like this!'

She bandaged the deeper wounds on Cat's palms and chin, then helped her sit up before she sat down to write the orders for the X-ray. "Sounds like you're definitely leading an interesting life!" She mused. "There's certainly nothing boring about it!"

"You've said a mouthful there, sister!"

"I sense that despite the current enforced separation, this husband of yours makes you happy," the doctor added.

"He does," Cat replied softly.

"He's quite different from Bill," the doctor noted.

"Bill and I were quite opposite in a lot of things. It lasted a long time," Cat pointed out.

Dr. Pinkerton nodded and handed over the X-ray paperwork. "I'm going to give you an antibiotic shot, and call in a prescription to your pharmacy for pain pills - both for night pain and daytime. Do you want me to use your pharmacy up here?"

"Can you call it in to the one located in Vincennes? I have to leave as soon as we're done here to start plannin' Daddy's funeral."

"I can do that," Dr. Pinkerton made a note on the electronic chart. "I'm also going to give you a couple of samples for the time being and we're going to increase your PTSD medication a wee bit, just to compensate for everything you're going through."

The doctor left her to dress after giving her another hug. "I'll be thinking about you, and don't hesitate to call while you're in the state if you need anything."

---

It occurred to 'Brownie' as he approached the exit for US 231 from I-70 that changing the license plate wouldn't offer enough protection from Diane's scrutiny. He needed to change the truck's exterior color before he got to Vincennes. 'Wish I'd thought of that while I was still in Indy!' He grumbled. 'It's goin' to be harder to find a decent shop out here in Bum Fuck Egypt!'

His luck seemed to be changing for the better as he found a commercial car painting shop in Bloomfield. He stopped in to see when they might be able to repaint the truck.

"Sorry, fella. All booked up today," the counter jockey informed him. "Got an opening first thing tomorrow morning."

'Probably better to get it done here than tryin' to go somewhere else,' 'Brownie' wryly mused. He nodded to the clerk, "I'll be back tomorrow mornin', then."

The counter assistant took down his fake name and accepted partial payment for the work. "Seems a shame to cover off that nice blue with all black, but if that's what you want, we'll do it."

"It's what I want," 'Brownie confirmed dryly.

He found a 24 hour truck stop where he could park and sleep in the truck without being bothered. He didn't mind sleeping in the truck; he'd slept in worse places.

He didn't expect to get pulled over, but he also believed in covering his ass. Experience taught him that a driver could raise the curiosity of a patrol officer by driving too carefully as one who drove too fast or erratically. Changing the truck's color would give him a little more breathing space.

He wasn't worried that the outlaws had reported him to the police. 'The cops wouldn't give much priority to the word of a bunch of bikers, anyway! Diane's another matter. She'd get suspicious if she saw something that looked like her family's truck back home. Gettin' the paint job will be a good investment.'

He had plenty of money in his stash to enjoy a good meal at the truck stop. He took advantage of the bathing facilities to wash, clean the wounds, and re bandage them. He didn't have to purchase first aid supplies; he'd taken the entire stock from Diane's bathroom when he left.

He was relieved to find that none of the wounds showed signs of infection. 'As long as I keep 'em dry and clean, they should heal pretty quick.'

The one wound that most concerned him was the most difficult and uncomfortable to bandage. After trying several ways to cover it, he settled on smearing a good amount of antiseptic ointment on it and covering it with a loose gauze wrap. 'It's easier than havin' to peel tape off my dick!'

That wound was deeper than the others and caused him a great deal of pain whether he was sitting or standing. The only time he got any relief was when he was laying down. The cut didn't begin bleeding during his shower, and didn't show signs of infection

'Brownie' plotted his plan of action for the next few days while he showered. He wasn't worried about his son arresting him for violating Rev. Marshall's restraining order. Not with the new disguise he was planning to adopt. 'It's too bad the ID I bought has been compromised. It did a good job foolin' 'Mouse'. This new one ought to do the same.'

For all he knew, the restraining order might not have any teeth to it with the good minister's passing. Not that it mattered to him. One way or another, he was going to get revenge on Cat Marshall once and for all.

---

The waiting room to the imaging center wasn't too full when Cat limped inside. She signed in at the reception desk, then took a seat to wait for the office staff to call her back to check in.

Just as she got seated, the receptionist called her to the window. 'It figures!' She grimaced, hauling her aching body out of the chair and back to the window. She handed her insurance card to the staffer, then signed the necessary forms for the X-rays.

"You can have a seat. They'll call you back shortly."

Cat decided she'd just as soon remain standing; it just hurt too much to get up from the waiting room chairs. She didn't have long to wait when a technician stuck her head out the door and called her name. Cat limped towards the tech and nodded cordially at her.

"Follow me," the technician instructed, turning to lead Cat to a changing room. "You can leave your underwear on, but we need you to change into this gown," she instructed, pointing to the gown laying on the bench. The bottom of the bench held two drawers with keys sticking out of them.

"OK," Cat acknowledged. She was familiar with the procedure from the many times she'd had mammograms performed there.

"Let me know when you're ready," the technician replied, closing the drapes to the changing room.

Cat gingerly removed her clothes again, placing them and her cell phone in one of the drawers and locking it. She shrugged into the gown and opened the drape.

The technician came out of one of the X-ray rooms at the sound the drape made. "This won't take long," she assured the patient.

'No, but it'll be uncomfortable!' Cat observed wryly. 'X rays and boob pics always are for me!'

The first couple of pictures weren't too difficult on her. She merely had to stand still with the bruised area to the film table, then turned so that her front was against it. Next she had to lay down on a hard, unforgiving surface for three more pictures. Laying on her sore side was the most uncomfortable, but it didn't take long.

"Just relax a moment, while I review these images," the technician stated.

"Lookin' for anything in particular?" Cat inquired as she waited.

"Broken bones or internal injuries," the technician replied.

"Wouldn't I know if there was somethin' broken?"

"Not necessarily. A hairline fracture might not cause you pain at first. Dr. Pinkerton is just being cautious given the injuries you received a few months ago."

"Understandable," Cat murmured. She lay flat on her back, fingers crossed over her stomach, waiting for the technician to review the films and contact the doctor.

"Did you get your prescription samples and the treatment instructions for a deep bruise before you came down here?" The technician asked.

"Sure did," she replied jauntily. 'Sounds like I passed!'

"Yes, you're good to go," the technician acknowledged.

"Thanks," Cat replied, sliding off the hard metal surface and limping back into the changing room. Several minutes later, she was fully dressed and making her way out to the parking lot.

---

Mud roared into the medical building parking lot and pulled into the space Grim's bike occupied. He was relieved to find Grime outside, leaning against his bike. He didn't want to have to talk about his failure in front of Cat and a lot of civilians. He shut off the engine and removed his helmet, placing it on the rear view mirror. "How's Miss Cat?"

"Road rash is the worse I've seen. She's still inside," Grim pointed back at the building. "Just got a tweet that she's getting some X-rays."

"That doesn't sound promising," Mud frowned.

"Cat said it was just a precaution," Grim assured him, holding out his burner so the biker could read the text for himself.

"Hope that's all it is," Mud sighed.

"You look like ya lost your best friend," Grim remarked.

"Hardly. The shitbird got away from me!"

"How'd that happen?" Grim inquired angrily. Cat wouldn't be happy to hear that; she'd tried to get Grim to go along to help catch the errant cager. Now he'd disappeared like a fart in a tornado.

"Fucker hid out in one of those superstore parking lots. I looked all over for him, but there were too damn many vehicles!" Mud fumed.

"Nothin' we can do about it now, brother. Just one of those random things."

"Frankly, I think it might've been that fucktard we beat up for messin' with Cat and her father," Mud retorted.

Grim frowned intently, giving careful consideration to his friend's observation. "Ya might be right," he acknowledged. "It would take someone with more balls than brains to pull somethin' like that after the smack down we gave him."

"Some people never learn, and 'Brownie's' one of those types," Cat interjected, limping towards the borrowed Yamaha. The bike was parked in the space next to the two Harleys. "I heard y'all say that the shitbird got away."

Mud looked down at the pavement, his face red with embarrassment. "Those damn fuckin' superstores give asshats plenty of places to hide!"

"Whether it was 'Brownie' or not, the guy had an advantage over y'all, Mud," she consoled him. "He knows the city better. Doesn't mean it was 'Brownie', but it's not that you didn't try."

She limped around 'Blackie', examining the superficial damage from the fall. She gazed mournfully at the scratches embedded in the side of the gas tank and side panel. 'Nothin' that Vic can't easily repair. I'll just have to shave some off the askin' price."

"Sorry about that, Kitten," Mud stated sympathetically, pointing at the bike.

"Not your fault. How could we know some fucktard would want to play chicken today? Some cagers are stupid!" She winced and leaned against the Yamaha's seat.

"Are ya a'right, Cat?" Grim asked anxiously, noting her eyes and nose were red. Though he didn't have an old lady, Grim had been around women enough to know the indications of a recent crying spell. 'Shit knows the woman's entitled, considerin' everything goin' on!'

"Ya need to bitch behind one of us?" Mud added. He winced in sympathy at the number of bandages visible on her nose, chin, and hands.

"I'm good, darlin'," she assured them. "Doc gave me a pain killer to take the edge off until we get to the apartment. I'll have one of the 'kids' drive to Vincennes so I can take a stronger pain pill and crash."

Grim threw a questioning look at Mud Ball. "I think she's referrin' to her employees," the biker explained.

"Give that man a beer later," she acknowledged with a wry grin.

Grim shrugged and shook his head. "Are ya sure you don't wanna have Vic come out for the bike?"

"I'm sure. Let's just get back to the apartment and get out of town. Got too much to do to dilly dally around," Cat replied, gingerly climbing onto the Yamaha and strapping on the scratched up helmet.

The two shrugged their shoulders and mounted their Harleys to prepare to leave. They would feel better once they had her safely back to the apartment.

---

"Wow! Poor Miss Cat!" Adrian sighed after listening to Jan's story about 'Brownie' and Cat's past.

"I don't accept that someone could be so vicious to a person that cared for them," Chuckie added.

"Dad believed the guy was evil incarnate, and he never said that about anyone in his life," Jan replied.

"It sounds like he fits the bill to me!" Vic snarled angrily.

"What I don't understand is why he asked us to spare that asshat's life!" Shank growled. "If anyone deserved to meet Mr. Reaper, that guy's one of 'em!"

Jan smiled grimly. Though he didn't know who 'Mr. Reaper' might be, he had a pretty good idea what the biker meant. "I couldn't agree more, but that's Dad for you. He is – " Jan grimaced at his use of the present tense in speaking of his step – father. "I mean, he was a very forgiving person."

"Yes he was," Cat added as she limped into the apartment, followed by Grim and Mud Ball. "Glad to see I'm not the only one havin' that trouble, Jan."

The men leapt to their feet at her entrance, shocked at the bandages on her face and hands.

"What the Hell happened to you, Lil Sis?" Jan exclaimed, struggling to his feet.

"Almost met up with a runaway truck," she replied. "I'm fine, just some road rash and bruises."

"That shitbird we roughed up did it, didn't he?" Yum stated, glaring at Mud and Grim for confirmation.

"We think so, but Miss Cat didn't see the driver clearly," Grim replied.

Grim and Mud gave the group the details on the attempt to hurt their charge. "He managed to get away from me!" Mud complained.

"Only because whoever the driver was knows the city better than you," Cat reminded him. "Besides, drivers of four wheeled vehicles tend to get nervous when someone on a bike chases after them."

"Especially someone as intimidating as Mud!" Vic laughed.

"Yeah, I'd likely piss my pants if I saw that face in my truck's rear view!" Ron grinned.

"The bike's OK," Cat assured Vic. "But I need to talk to you about it."

"If it's about the price, I'm not changing it," Vic replied.

"We'd better step inside my office," she growled, indicating the front porch. "Once I'm done in here, we should be ready to head out," she added over her shoulder to the group.

Vic grinned and followed her to the front porch. "There's no changing my mind, Cat. It's not your fault that the bike got damaged."

Cat grimaced and shook her head. "It's not fair for you to absorb the repair cost!"

"It's what I do for a living, darlin'," he reminded her gently. "If they're only surface scratches, the repair will be minimal."

"But the person responsible will probably never be caught!" She protested. "I'll just call in a claim to my insurance, and reimburse you."

"No, you won't," Vic stated firmly. "You don't need your rates to go up because of some stupid maniac."

Cat started to protest, but he cut her off with a wave of his hand. "No 'if's, and's, or but's'," Vic insisted. "We agreed on a price a long time ago. I'm not going to take anything off that price, so get that idea out of your mind!"

Cat frowned at him. "Damn male! All right, have it your way. You still have the title, I suppose?"

"Sure do," Vic grinned. "I'll put a date to it and take care of business with the government tomorrow."

"Enjoy 'Blackie'. I know y'all will treat him right."

Vic stared intently at her. "Are you sure you're all right, Cat? You look like you're hurting."

"I've felt more comfortable," she quipped lightly. "I'm goin' to let Adrian drive us to Vincennes and catch some snooze. Got some pretty potent pain killers for when they're needed, and I could use one right now!"

"I don't doubt it," he replied, giving her a light hug.

"Is it safe to come in there?" Ron inquired, sticking his head past the porch door frame. "We didn't hear any explosions, but just wanted to be sure," he added with a grin.

"It's safe, fuzzball," Cat growled. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to say goodbye to ya without an audience," Ron replied, striding over to her. "If you need anything, feel free to call us."

"And let us know when the funeral will be," Vic added. "We want to be there."

Cat exchanged hugs with the tall, blond rider, who was careful of her injuries. "I'll do that," she choked.

The two walked out of the building and around to the back parking area. Cat returned to the living room and asked, "Everything loaded in the car and on the bikes?"

"We're all set," BZ assured her.

"Adrian, would y'all mind drivin' the car? I'm kinda sore, and don't trust myself to handle it. It's got all the same stuff as the PT."

"Sure, I've got it," He replied.

"Which route are we takin'?" BZ inquired.

"That's easy! Whichever one that shitbird took!" Mud growled.

"Not so easy, spud," Cat drawled. "There's several routes between here and Vincennes, the only one he won't take is I-70 and US 41."

'He's still avoiding Terre Haute even after all this time! Maybe there's some good to biker clubs afer all!' Jan observed wryly. "Is the I-69 extension done yet?"

"Just to Bloomington. The bikers would like the scenic route between Bloomington and Crane Naval, but it might confuse Adrian," Cat sighed.

"No more than State Road 67 would," Jan pointed out.

"Plus he has us to keep him from makin' the wrong turn!" Yum pointed out.

"I can handle it, Miss Cat," Adrian assured her. "I have GPS on my phone, and Chuckie is real good at reading directions. You can rest easy!"

"I accept that!" Chuckie added.

"OK. Plug in this and Daddy's address, and follow the route we've been talkin' about," Cat instructed. "As soon as I'm out of the necessary, we're hittin' the road."

"Hey, Cat!" Cavey called out to her. "Are we leavin' the apartment keys here or taking them to Mrs. York?"

"Shit! I forgot!" She removed the apartment key from her key ring and handed it to Cavey. "Since you talked to Mrs. York, do y'all mind takin' them to her and catchin' up with us?"

"Be glad to. She'll be pleased to know you saw the doctor, anyway," Cavey winked. "I won't say a word about the incident."

"Please don't," Cat sighed. "That's one less thing she needs to worry about."

"Man, I just had a thought," Adrian muttered to Chuckie.

"I did too. It's going to be a long drive, and we drank all that coffee on the plane."

"So did I," Jan spoke up.

"Good thing we've got access to two bathrooms!" She shook her head and proceeded to what had been her bathroom. "Maybe y'all better check here, Cavey, in case we haven't left yet!"

Cavey responded with a cheeky salute as Cat closed the door to the bathroom. Adrian and Chuckie rushed up the stairs to the biker's apartment and restroom.

---

Daniel drove nonstop from the Tennessee/Alabama border after he got the news about Blaine from the dispatcher. He was tempted to leave the trailer and just drive his cab back. The dispatcher requested he put off his return long enough for the trailer to be loaded.

"We'll have another driver meet you at the Indiana/Kentucky border, and you can take your cab to Vincennes from there," the dispatcher explained. "That way you can get paid for the return trip."

Daniel appreciated the dispatcher's assistance, but bristled at the delay. He asked for and received several PTO days so he could assist his step - sister with the arrangements and settling their father's estate. Once he disconnected his cab from the trailer, he disregarded all the rules and regs about rest periods to make up for the lost time.

He called his daughter during a fuel stop to advise he'd be staying with her until after the funeral, even though the house technically belonged to him. Christine now owned his former home free and clear, while Blaine had transferred his retirement home to Daniel after his mother moved to the nursing home.

"The company only allows three 'bereavement days' for a parent's passing, and that's just not going to be enough time!" He informed Christine. "I have to use some of my paid time off to help your aunt settle the estate."

"That stinks, Dad," Chris sympathized. "Seems like employers only care about the bottom line these days!"

"Tell me something I don't already know, honey," Daniel sighed. "But I'm not about to leave your aunt and uncle to handle this on their own."

"Maybe it'd be a good idea to sort through Grandma's things too. We know she's not going ever return home."

"I know. I'm just not sure if Cat would be able to handle that on top of settling her father's property," Daniel sighed.

"If I know Aunt Cat, she's not going to want to go through that a second time. She'll be more than willing to do it with all three of you present than have to make similar decisions later on her own," his daughter pointed out.

"That's true. I'll talk with Jan and see what he thinks."

"I'm glad you're going to be staying with us," she smiled.

"I want to spend some time with you and the kiddo," Daniel admitted.

"You know you're always welcome, Dad. You also know we'll help with sorting through Grandpa and Grandma's things."

"I hoped so, but didn't want to assume. Want to come to the house with me to see your aunt?"

"I'll wait until tomorrow, Daddy. She's probably overwhelmed as it is and not up to a lot of company."

Daniel found himself wishing for Christine's presence when he arrived at the house that was now his. There was so much of their parents' heart and soul in the house; he expected to hear Blaine's voice call out to him at any minute.

"I don't see how we're going to get all this done!" He mused, settling into the recliner near the picture window to watch for his brother and sister. "Even with Chris' help, it's going to be quite an endeavor!"

---

Rev. Jack Kite, Superintendent of the Indianapolis Central district of the South Indiana United Methodist Conference, stared at his computer screen in disbelief. 'I'd had gone to the hospital had I known of this!' He scrubbed his face with both hands, wishing the damning words would magically disappear from the screen when he opened his eyes.

God's answer to his silent prayer was a resounding "No!". The black and white lettering hadn't vanished. The daily conference wide update was still open as he'd left it. The notice about Blaine Marshall's passing following hospitalization at the Select Specialty hospital in Indianapolis as plain as the nose on his face:

"Rev. Blaine Marshall, retired elder of the Conference, died at the Select Specialty Hospital, Indianapolis IN yesterday, following a brief illness. Services are pending in Vincennes, where Rev. Marshall retired. Condolences may be sent to his wife in care of Mrs. Cat Marshall Trager, at Rev. Marshall's home."

The update listed the assignments Rev. Marshall had served during his 30+ year ministry in the conference, as well as the mailing address. Rev. Kite didn't need to read on to recall that the minister's second wife was an Altzheimer's patient living in a nursing home and that Cat had two step - brothers. He knew a lot about the Marshall family. He had served as the campus minister in Vincennes when Cat had attended college there, and later was her pastor during her marriage to Bill.

'Blaine was quite supportive of the Campus Ministry once Cat discovered it. I learned a lot from him. He was truly a man of faith, despite all the trails he faced,' Rev. Kite mourned, gazing at the shelf filled with study guides Cat's father had given to him during his Campus Ministry days. Those resource books had been helpful to him in dealing with the many years of a diverse young adult population, and later at his assignment in Indianapolis.

Rev. Kite had away from the district office for an out of state vacation. He had taken his family to Nashville TN to visit the been on a week's vacation from the conference. He had taken his family out of state to Nashville, TN. They had visited both Opryland and the Grand Old Opry along with the Upper Room complex. The relaxing aura he'd achieved during the vacation crashed to Earth when he read the sad news about his friend and mentor.

He walked out of his office to the seretary's reception area. "Did anyone get assigned to visit Blaine Marshall during his hospitalization?"

The secretary shook her head. "There wasn't a request made here. I'll check with the Conference Office."

Kite nodded and returned to his office, closing the door behind him. There was no way for Cat to have known that he was a District Superintendent as the appointment had come after she'd left Indiana following Bill's death, otherwise he knew she would've reached out to him. 'Why do I have a bad feeling about this?'

A tap at the door preceded his secretary's entrance into his sanctum. Her grim expression told him what he needed to know, but he waited for her to verbally confirm what he knew in his heart was true. No one had been assigned to that hospital for visitation during Blaine's stay. The request had gone unanswered.

"Thank you. As soon as the date for the funeral is announced, clear my calendar for the viewing and service," he replied quietly.

The secretary nodded before leaving the office, closing the door behind her.

Kite returned to his desk chair, his heart heavy with grief. He knew Cat would be angry and hurt over the apparent snub to her father, and with good reason. 'She might consider my presence too little too late where the Conference is concerned, but I hope she won't see me in the same light as the Conference!' He promised himself that he would make it clear to her that he wasn't going as a Conference representative, but as her friend.

---

The mighty roar of motorcycle engines entering the drive made him look up in surprise. "Holy cow!" He exclaimed as Blaine's Concorde led a six pack of Harleys to a stop in front of the garage. "Looks like a biker parade!"

He opened the screen door and stepped outside, frowning when he didn't see his siblings. He sighed with relief as Jan climbed out of the back seat, grimacing slightly from the effort.

"Good to see ya brother! Where's Sis?" He gave his brother the 'bro hug double back tap', being careful to keep Jan's disabilities in mind.

"She's zonked out in the back seat," Jan motioned to the open back door with a wave of his head. Adrian and Chuckie had gotten out of the car and were standing next to the passenger side front door.

"Who are those guys?"

"Adrian and Chuckie. The latter is the guy with one finger on each hand. They're Cat's employees and have come out to help us," Jan explained.

"I don't know how much help that guy's going to be given his lack of fingers," Daniel murmured just loud enough for his brother to hear.

"Don't you know not to judge a book by its' cover? Chuckie can carry as much stuff as any man with ten digits!"

"Well, their help will be welcome," Daniel sighed. "I'm tired just thinking of all the work ahead. I can't blame Cat for being wiped out from this ordeal."

"You don't know the half of it, brother," Jan replied. "She got all banged up in a motorcycle accident earlier today. She had to lay it down to avoid getting mowed down by a truck."

"Owtch!" Daniel winced in sympathy.

"We're pretty sure it was deliberate," Jan replied, nodding at the two bikers standing nearby.

"Who in the Hell would want to hurt our sister?"

"Who do you think?" Jan countered grimly.

"Jesus Christ! You're not saying –!"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. The asshole was messin' with Dad in Good Sam and in the hospital in Indianapolis!" Jan stated affirmatively.

Daniel wiped his face with one hand. "Shit! Poor Cat, havin' to deal with that!"

"Actually, her biker friends dealt with him," Jan grinned slyly. "I'll tell you all about it in a minute."

Daniel nodded sagely. The bikers' presence made plenty of sense to him now that he knew Cat's nemesis was on the prowl again. "Where are we going to put 'em all?"

The two bikers walked up to the brothers to introduce themselves and responded to Daniel's inquiry. "We're staying at the 'no tell motel' around the block," the burly, bearded biker stated, holding out his hand in greeting. "I'm BZ."

"And I'm Cavey," the other man added. "Cat's 'usband sent us to watch out for her."

"You must be members of that club he's in," Daniel replied. "But I doubt you rode all the way here from California!"

"We're from the Illinois charters. Chicago and Rockford," BZ explained.

"Been to Chi a number of times with the truck, can't recall seeing the 'Sons of Anarchy' riding around," Daniel stated.

"We don't ride on the interstates and expressways if we don't have to," BZ grinned. "Plenty of streets in and around the Windy City without the added hassle."

"I can appreciate that!" Daniel laughed. "Maneuvering an 18 wheeler through that can be a nightmare no matter when you're passin' through!"

"Cagers treat bikes and 18 wheelers with a lot of disrespect," BZ acknowledged.

"It never fails!" Growled a voice from the back of the Chrysler. "Get a few men together and they gossip like a bunch of old biddies in the church yard!" Cat crawled out of the back seat, yawning and stretching. "Owtch!"

"Serves you right for callin' us a bunch of biddies," Jan grinned slyly.

"Just callin' 'em like I see 'em," she retorted. "So are all y'all goin' to play Quaker meeting out here in the drive, or are we goin' inside like civilized people?"

"Ladies first!" Daniel chortled, gently embracing his sister. "It's good to see you again, just sorry it had to be for this reason."

"Ditto, big brother," she replied softly. "It's so hard to believe that he's gone." She turned out of his embrace to limp to the front door. "All y'all come on in and find a seat, but leave your smokes outside."

The entourage had stopped at the hotel to check in and drop off their duffel bags, beer, and food. The bikers hovered around the trunk of the car as Adrian and Chuckie unloaded it. They silently grabbed bags and boxes and carried them into the house.

---

The club was relieved to find that their SAA was safe and sound. They watched in silence as he and Clay walked up to them in the exercise yard.

Happy rushed up and engulfed Tig in a fierce hug. "I'm sorry about your father – in – law, brother," he murmured brokenly. He could only imagine how Tig was feeling at the moment. He'd been living with the possibility of his mother dying of cancer for several long months. 'She's in remission now, so maybe she won't die while I'm stuck in here. This has to suck for him!'

Tears of sympathy welled in Hap's eyes. Of all the patched members, he felt closest to the SAA. They shared some of the same interests that made their brothers cringe.

"Thanks, brother," Tig replied quietly, returning the embrace with the 'bro hug double back tap'. "I hope it's a long time before ya have to go through this."

Happy reluctantly dropped his arms from around his friend's shoulders and stepped back. He was having a hard time keeping his emotions in check. "Bobby told us what little the guard gave him. We kinda put two and two together."

"It's a'right, brother. I'd have gotten around to tellin' ya," Tig stated. "Just needed a little time to process this."

One by one, his brothers walked up to hug Tig and express their condolences. "Glad you're safe, brother," Bobby murmured. "You had us worried."

"No need to," Tig growled to cover his overwhelming emotions. "I'm headin' for the cell. Wanna get my head together before I talk to my woman."

"Go with, Hap," Clay murmured. "Make sure he makes it a'right."

"Oh yes I will!" Happy exclaimed gruffly. He took off after the SAA, maintaining a discreet but watchful distance.

The group remained silent until the pair passed through the door into the cell block. "He's really taking it hard," Jax observed, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"Dunno why you sound so surprised!" Clay growled.

"He usually doesn't give a shit about civilians, other than his kids and Cat," Jax explained with a shrug.

"He doesn't give a shit about what most civilians think of him," Clay retorted. "Cat's father was different. He liked Tig the moment they met."

"He obviously didn't know everything about Tig!" Jax snorted.

Clay turned an icy glare on his step son and VP. "Cat told her father a heavily edited version of Charming life. Maybe if your grandfather had gotten such a story about JT, he would've given us a warmer reception."

Jax frowned at his stepfather, but didn't pursue the subject. It was a constant source of personal pain for him that his grandfather had openly shown his disappointment in him. 'Gramps never liked it that I followed in JT's and Clay's footsteps.'

Clay turned his gaze upon the rest of his crew. "These next few days are gonna be rough for Tig. He's hurting. Like a lot."

"Is he feeling guilty for being stuck here?" Juice asked.

"Duh!" Bobby snorted. "It's written all over his face! He's wants to be there."

The club walked away from the exercise yard towards their cell block. They walked in a group, each alone with his own thoughts.

Clay decided not to tell the club how much guilt Tig was wrestling with. He felt confident that the SAA would eventually see that the club was as much his family as his woman. 'I hope Cat doesn't put him on a guilt trip! She didn't went Westin arranged that attack, but Death can bring out the worst in people!'

---

Kendra grit her teeth during the brief tour of ' Margeaux's' apartment. It was the same size as hers, but everything in it was brand spanking new. Dinner turned out to be Chinese take – out and wine, which was served on the brass and glass table located in front of the window that looked out on the street.

Kendra decided to wait until after dinner to tell her friend about her step grandfather's passing. 'Why ruin her appetite with bad news?'

'Margeaux' was happy and relaxed during dinner, chattering like a magpie about her new apartment and everything she'd done to it. Kendra just let her talk while trying to enjoy her meal.

"I got approached by a producer today," 'Margeaux' added, taking a sip from her wine glass. "He says I can make better money with him than I can with your producer."

'I've got a bad feelin' about this! The Iranians approached her!' Kendra thought. She expected the Far Eastern producers would reach out to 'Margeaux', she just didn't expect it to happen so soon. She carefully placed her utensils on her plate. "What's the producer's name?"

'Margeaux' gazed inquiringly at her friend, but provided the producer's name. "How come you don't work for them?"

"Because the money isn't worth the treatment you get!" Kendra explained darkly. "I know all about those guys. They're bad news."

'Margeaux' frowned petulantly. "Oh, please! Just because they're foreign doesn't make 'em bad men!"

"Their nationality has nothin' to do with it," Kendra insisted. "They always approach new talent; including actresses from the legitimate studios! Believe me, you don't wanna get mixed up with them."

"How do you know?" 'Margeaux' retorted challengingly.

"They approached me after I signed with my producer. The offer sounded too good to be true, so I asked him about the guy. He said they allow their talent to physically abuse their girls, even torture 'em! The producer's male family gets their share, too."

"He just told you that to scare you away from 'em!" 'Margeaux' snorted. "I can't believe you'd fall for that old trick!"

"You must think I'm really stupid!" Kendra hissed. "I asked around, got proof. These guys promise the stars but give you grief. Trust me, Da - 'Margeaux'. Maybe I got you into a few scrapes when we were kids, but I always got you outta 'em, and with little damage. Why would I do otherwise now?"

"Because you're jealous that I've got a chance to make more money than you!" 'Margeaux' exclaimed hotly.

"Really? Do you think so little of me to say something like that?"

"Why else wouldn't you tell me about this possibility?"

"Because you're lucky enough to have people in your life who care about what happens to you!"

"Name one!" 'Margeaux' retorted challengingly.

Kendra intended to say she cared, but instead snapped, "Your step grandfather!" "At least he did!"

"What do you mean by that remark?" 'Margeaux' growled.

Kendra flushed and lowered her eyes to her still full plate. She couldn't meet her friend's gaze after making such a slip.

A flash of comprehension crossed 'Margeaux's' features. "So the bitch turned him against me! I knew he was lyin' when he said he loved me!"

Kendra squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. She hadn't intended to blurt out the sad news so soon into their visit; she'd let her annoyance with 'Margeaux' persistence about the Far Eastern producers get the better of her. 'She just won't listen! She's always been that way when she's got an idea in her head!' She sighed in resignation and gazed directly across the table at her friend. "This wasn't the way I wanted to tell you - ."

"Shit, it's nothin', girlfriend. Just proves Mother was right about that bitch," 'Margeaux' interjected dryly. Her voice sounded like she didn't care, but a sudden brightness in her eyes betrayed her hurt feelings.

"This doesn't have to do with Cat dissin' ya, babe," Kendra replied softly. "Rev. Marshall died last night."

'Margeaux's fork fell to her plate with a loud clatter. Her face went white and her eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "I know you didn't get that from 'step mommy dearest'! Figures she wouldn't bother to tell me herself!"

"I got the news from Daddy. He and Chibs broke the news to Tig this morning," Kendra explained. "She probably didn't call you yet 'cause she's still makin' arrangements."

"I suppose so," 'Margeaux' sighed. She pushed her plate away and stood up, moving to a shelf that held several framed pictures. She took one down and gazed mournfully at it before returning to the table and handing the picture to Kendra. "That's Grandpa Blaine. I think it was taken before he retired. Cat gave it to me."

Kendra gazed down at the smiling face looking up at her. The eyes were kind, with plenty of laugh wrinkles around them. The smile itself was open and friendly, not the fake smile people usually make for a photographer. He wore a suit with a carefully knotted tie around his neck. A small American flag pin was attached to the lapel of his suit coat.

"Wow! He was handsome for an older guy!" She exclaimed. "He looks like he was really nice, too."

"How do you mean?"

"He looks like someone who genuinely liked people – all kinds of people," Kendra replied. "He looks the way a grandparent should look. Was he really that nice?"

"He seemed to be," 'Margeaux' admitted. "Even when he wasn't feeling real good, he always sounded happy to talk to me when he'd call Cat and she wasn't available. He has - had - a really warm and kind voice."

"Wow," Kendra whispered, passing the photograph back to her friend. "I never knew my grandparents. I do envy you for that!"

"You know the really weird thing about him?" 'Margeaux' inquired, not even waiting for an answer. "He came right out and said he loved me, even though we only talked on the phone. He said because Cat loved me that made it easy for him to."

Kendra's eyes widened in surprise to hear 'Margeaux' admit she knew her step – mother loved her. The girl spoke so scathingly of Tig's wife that the admission came as a shock. "The man sounded pretty wise," Kendra remarked softly. "Wasn't he a minister?"

"Retired," 'Margeaux' admitted reluctantly. "But he never tried to convert me like some of those Bible thumpers do."

"Oh?" That was unusual to Kendra. All the street corner ministers she'd run into always told people they were going to Hell for being sinners. She always tuned them out and kept on walking. The media preachers weren't much better in her opinion, so she'd never given religion much thought.

"Yeah. The only time he ever mentioned religion to me was when we were gettin' ready to end a call," 'Margeaux' continued softly. "He'd say he loved me, and so did God."

Tears pooled in her eyes as she spoke of her grandfather. 'Margeaux' suddenly realized she'd never hear from him again. She felt as thought she'd lost something special while tears fell onto the picture's protective glass.

---

Tig knew Happy was shadowing him, but he didn't acknowledge the former Nomad's presence. He wasn't up to conversation, though he sensed Happy wanted to do something to help. All Tig wanted to do was get to the cell and think things over until it was time to make his nightly call to his wife. He paused in front of the open cell and turned to Happy. "Thanks for havin' my back, brother."

"Anytime. If you wanna talk –"

Tig shook his head. "Not much to talk about right now, Hap."

"Ya know where to find me," Happy replied. He leaned against the opposite wall while Tig slipped inside his cell, climbed onto his bunk, and lay down.

Satisfied that Tig would be safe, Happy moved away from the open cell door. He assumed a watchful stance near the cell where he could come to Tig's aid if the need arose.

Bobby walked towards the cell he shared with Tig to find Happy standing guard nearby.

"He's quiet," Happy reported. "Maybe he's asleep by now."

"Prolly not," Bobby observed. "He wouldn't want to miss callin' his wife. Especially tonight."

"True dat," Hap nodded.

"Thanks for keepin' an eye on him," Bobby added. "I wouldn't put it past some fucktard to attack him when he's not at his best."

He walked into the cell to find Tig laying on his bunk and smoking like a chimney. Both cold and still smoking butts lay on the floor around the toilet.

'Wouldn't want him playin' basketball with that accuracy rate!' Bobby mused, stifling a sigh of frustration over the litter. He silently scooped up the butts and tossed them into the commode.

"Sorry about the mess, brother," Tig muttered through a haze of smoke.

"No worries," Bobby replied, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "The guard said he let ya make a call this mornin'. I guess Cat wasn't available."

"Voice mail," Tig sighed. "She left intel for family and friends on it."

"That's rough for both of you, man," Bobby observed.

"Just don't go tellin' me she was prolly busy makin' arrangements!" Tig snarled.

"Wasn't gonna go there, bro."

Tig slid from the bunk and moved towards the door, sliding past his brother. "Sorry, man. Everyone's been tellin' me that. It gets old."

"It's about that time, ain't it?"

Tig nodded.

"Give her our love."

"Copy that," Tig muttered as he slipped out of the cell. Bobby watched the SAA departure. Tig's walk didn't incorporate the usual swagger and his shoulders slumped as if he carried a heavy burden on them.

'He is carryin' a burden in a way,' Bobby thought, relaxing on his bunk. He watched until Clay fell insto step next to Tig en route to the pay phone bank.

Bobby sighed and lit a cigarette of his own, wishing he had a little reefer to go with the tobacco to help him relax. 'It's not like we don't understand his pain,' Bobby mused. 'Half - Sack's death is still fresh. He was like family.'

Bobby had no idea what it was like to feel close to an in - law. Precious' parents had been killed in a wreck long before he married her. His relationship with his first set of in laws had been anything but pleasant.

'They felt I wasn't good enough for their daughter,' Bobby recalled dryly. 'A Jewish kid from Vegas with a lower rank than her child wasn't their idea of a perfect match. It might've been Dad's mafia connections that unnerved them the most, not that he'd have been able to put out any hits on them!'

He snorted and looked up at the mattress above him. His mind's eye flew back over the years to the time he'd spent in the military and meeting his first wife.

He was in his late 20's when the military uproar in Grenada broke out. Following a lackluster high school career and a brief stint in college, he decided to enlist in the Army as a way to see the world.

'It was either enlist or get busted and sent to prison. I chose the military because prison wasn't somethin' I felt prepared for.'

Prison didn't concern him these days. Back then, however, the sexual molestation he'd endured in his early years made prison the stuff of nightmares. It also brought about a large gulf between his father and himself, as his old man's mafia connections made it impossible to believe that a trusted friend had abused his only son.

The military taught him a sense of order, though he had intially chafed at the many restrictions. He never let his Drill Sergeant see his discomfort and he eventually came to accept the rigors of military life. He even looked forward to going to Grenada.

Following basic training, he was sent to Ft. Campbell, KY. His first weekend there, he got a pass and traveled to Graceland to indulge his lifelong love of all things Elvis. He made the 3 1/2 hour one way trip and back several times during his assignment at Ft. Campbell.

To his great disappointment, Bobby's unit was never activated to Grenada. He never left Ft. Hood after basic. Instead he was assigned to the motor pool where he learned valuable skills in motor vehicle repair in the motor pool. He enjoyed repair work almost as much as he enjoyed accounting.

'There's just somethin' satisfying about working with your hands and making something broken work again.'

He found something at Fort Campbell that he didn't expect. The love of a good woman. Ruth was a fellow 'grunt' assigned to the motor pool. A promising mechanic, she had the ability to help Bobby learn the ropes without making him feel any less like a man. They spent a lot of time together in theirwork. Their conversations eventually drifted from all things mechanical to topics of a more personal nature.

It turned out that Ruth was also an Elvis fan, and accompanied Bobby several times on his pilgrimages to Graceland. They grew closer on those trips, and that closeness grew into love.

When it became evident that she wouldn't be deployed to Grenada, they decided to get married

'Ruth's parents were pretty elated about it until they found out that I was raised as a Jew, even though I hadn't been practicing for years.'

The fact that his father had ties to the mafia and that Bobby hailed from Las Vegas did little to endear Bobby to his potential in – laws. It didn't matter to tem that he hadn't seen his father since he'd left Vegas for boot camp. His decision to avoid jail by enlisting and staying out of the 'family business' had angered the elder Mr. Munson, so that he wanted little to do with his son. Bobby doubted that would change when he and Ruth were married.

Fortunately for Bobby, she refused to listen to her parents' protests and overruled their concerns about their potential grandchildrens' religious upbringing.

"They'll be brought up to know about God, and they'll be baptized - "

"And the boys circumcised," Bobby had interjected.

"That too," Ruth agreed. "But it'll be up to them when they're ready to choose their religion."

Her parents had been distressed by Ruth's announcement, but she wasn't willing to budge. Her parents grudgingly accepted the marriage, but were barely civil to Bobby and would become downright hostile whenever Ruth wasn't around.

Bobby bore their hostility in silence. He was aware that Ruth loved her parents dearly. It hurt her that they wouldn't accept her choice. Bobby didn't see any reason to add to her pain by complaining about them to her.

"It would've just put her in the middle, as if she wasn't a'ready!' He snorted. 'She knew how they were actin', but couldn't do anything to change it. Guess that's why we saw them as little as possible.'

That blew up in Bobby's face when his wife was killed in a freak accident on base. They acted as if the accident were his fault and tried to have him barred from the funeral. The military intervened and he was allowed to attend.

Bobby didn't opt to re – enlist when his tour of duty ended. He bought a motorcycle and left Ft. Hood for the California. He hoped to find a place where he could start over. He eventually found his way to Charming, and the club.

Bobby sighed and turned over. Tig hadn't returned yet, which meant to Bobby that his cell mate had successfully reached his wife. 'They need each other right now. Hope to Hell things don't change between them. Ya never know, though. Death has a way of tearin' things up, worse than a tornado.'

---

The 'Illinois Boys' and Cat's brothers, Jan and Daniel, opted to bring dinner to the house instead of expecting her to cook that night. After deciding on the type of food they wanted, the two brothers drove to the restaurant to pick up the order and brought it back to the house. Blaine had a supply of paper plates and plastic utensils stored in the pantry, so Cat didn't even have to worry about clean up.

"I appreciate this, guys," she informed them while they were chowing down around the hastily cleared dining room table. "I'll probably be more up to par tomorrow."

"Don't count on it, luv," Cavey observed. "You might be more stiff and sore after a full night's sleep."

'That's what I'm afraid of,' she thought. The doorbell rang as they were clearing up after dinner. Cat peeked out the front door window to find her father's next door neighbors standing in front of it. The woman carried a large cold cut platter. The man with her carried a bag of groceries.

The Illinois Boys'scampered into the garage, along with Adrian and Chuckie. "We'll come out when the visitors leave," BZ explained. "No need to give the gossips something to talk about!"

The last thing Cat wanted to do was entertain guests. The neighbors had done a lot for her father in the last few years of his life, so she felt she owed it to them to be hospitable. She opened the door and welcomed them with a brightness she didn't feel, gesturing for them to enter the house.

"We heard about your father from Christina," the woman explained as she and her husband stepped into the front entry. "Then we saw all the vehicles and knew someone was here. The entire subdivision wanted to give you a little something to help out."

"Looks like you got a little banged up, little lady," the man added, staring at the

bandages on her face and hands.

"Had a fall on some asphalt," she shrugged. "It's just some abrasions."

The woman winced in sympathy. "You poor thing!" She placed the platter on the coffee table in the front room then stood wringing her hands. "Your father would sometimes fall like that, and get the most nasty looking bruises and abrasions! I always felt bad for him."

Jan and Dan moved up to talk to the neighbors. Dan had prior experiences with the wife enjoyed long visits. 'Sis isn't up to that; her patience might wear thin enough to make her snap at the lady!' He interjected himself into the conversation the moment the woman drew a breath. "That's very nice of you folks to do! Cat will certainly appreciate not having to cook for us!"

"We felt it was the least we could do!" The woman chirped. "Your father was such a wonderful man and so helpful around the neighborhood. He's going to be missed."

"Yes, he is," Cat replied softly.

"From all the vehicles parked here, looks like you have a houseful," the man stated. "We won't overstay our welcome." He took his wife's elbow and began leading her towards the door.

"I didn't realize Rev. Marshall knew so many people who ride motorcycles!" The woman gushed.

Cat tried not to frown at the woman's obvious imitation of 'Gladys Kravitz'. "He knew a lot of people from many

walks of life," she replied quietly.

"You will be making arrangements soon for the service?" The woman pressed, stopping in the open doorway.

"We're meeting with the funeral home tomorrow," Daniel informed the neighbor. He was beginning to feel a little irritated by her inquisition, though he knew she meant no harm. 'And she's my neighbor now!' He thought wryly.

"Thanks again for the groceries," Cat added sincerely. "We're just a bit tired and upset or we'd visit longer. It's been a long day for all of us."

"Of course!" The wife sympathized, allowing her husband to usher her out the front door to the drive. "I forgot that you all came from long distances!"

The couple turned back towards their house while Cat shut the door behind them. "Whew! Bad news travels fast!"

"She's a sweet lady, but tends to be talkative," Daniel informed her.

"I remember," she acknowledged. "I just hope she's not gossipy; the house might get a bad rep with one woman and all these men here!"

"Probably gossips no more than any other woman," Daniel grinned.

"We're in trouble, then! At least the gossip won't be able to hurt Daddy!"

The bikers had gone on outside to the side yard to smoke and discuss plans for guard duty that night. Cat, her employees, and her brothers gathered in the living room to relax and listen to music on the stereo.

The television worked but the cable had been shut off when Blaine was transferred to Indianapolis. "It's not hi def, so y'all wouldn't get anything but snow. The VHS and DVD players work if y'all want to watch movies," she explained to Chuckie and Adrian.

"Maybe a little later, Miss Cat," Adrian replied. "The quiet is kind of nice right now."

"I accept that!" Chuckie grinned.

Cat's cell phone erupted with the unique ring tone that announced Alex's calls. Her tired smile widened as she limped across the room to the patio door and the back porch.

"Where you going Lil Sis?" Jan grinned knowingly.

"Just outside to take this call," she called out over her shoulder. Not only did she want some privacy during the call, she needed to have a stress smoke.

---

Tig leaned his head against the cool concrete wall next to the pay phone. He squashed another feeling of guilt over the ring tone. 'Please, baby, answer! I need to know you're doin' a'right!'

"Relax, Tig," Clay murmured. He was leaning against the wall behind his SAA, keeping a wary eye out on the other prisoners in line. "She'll answer. She always does at this time."

Just as he was resigned to leaving another voice mail, Alex heard her soft voice sigh in his ear, "Hey, love!"

"Hey back, baby!" He crooned with relief at the sound of her voice, though he frowned to hear the slight 'snick' of the cigarette lighter in the background. He knew very well what that sound meant, but decided not to draw attention to it under the circumstances. "I'm sorry about Blaine. Guess you've had a few rough hours."

Cat lit one of her flavored cheroots as she settled gingerly on the back deck's wooden steps. 'He's not goin' to be happy about me smokin' again, but it's either this, or breakin' out in hives!' She inhaled deeply, savoring the taste of white grape in her mouth, then exhaled the smoke through her nose. "That's one way of puttin' it! I got your message. It helped. A lot."

"Apparently not enough!" He remarked dryly. "I heard your lighter; you're stressed." He winced and smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. 'So much for that idea!'

"Thing's have been a wee bit stressful, love," she acknowledged. "Please don't be upset about it."

Alex didn't want to spend precious phone minutes arguing about her indulgence in one of her cheroots. She didn't smoke often, just when she was stressed. Arguing about it would just make things worse for her. "So are ya in Vincennes now?"

"Yeah we're at Daddy's -" Her voice broke with the realization that it was no longer her father's house. "Shit! Make that Daniel's house," she sighed. "We got here a few hours ago, along with Adrian and Chuckie. Did the club send 'em?"

"Kinda. Ima made it happen," he replied. He closed his eyes against the evident pain in her voice from her verbal stumble.

"That was damn nice of her," Cat murmured, flushing at the gesture and the compliment behind it. "I'll get a refund to her first thing in the mornin'."

"Like Hell you will! The woman considers you a friend. Kozik says she wanted to do somethin' for you because you don't treat her like shit," Alex growled softly.

"Oh," she was taken aback by his explanation. It had never occurred to her to treat Ima any less than she'd treat any other person, just because of the girl's occupation. "Well, if y'all say it's not necessary, then I'll abide by that."

Alex tapped the mouthpiece with his finger. "Hello? Did I get a crossed line or something? Did ya really just say you're goin' to obey me?"

Clay grinned broadly at Tig's remark. 'Things must not be too bad if he's crackin' jokes.'

"No, y'all didn't hear me say that word," she retorted dryly. "You know that's a four letter word to me!"

"Can't blame a man for tryin'," he shrugged.

Cat rolled her eyes before adding," I hope y'all passed my appreciation to Koz for her."

"You gotta ask?" He asked in mock surprise. "Why wouldn't I?"

She smiled indulgently at his playful nature. She was aware that he was just trying to cheer her up the only way he knew how. "Just checkin', love. You know what happens when you make assumptions."

"True dat," he chuckled. He quickly sobered to ask, "Seriously, though. How ya holdin' up, baby?"

"Not well at all," she admitted brokenly. "I can't believe Daddy's gone. The house seems so empty without him, and everywhere I turn, there's somethin' to remind me of him!" Fresh tears at her loss seeped down her cheeks.

"Yeah, but you've got people there with you," Alex reminded her. "That's a Hell of a lot better than tryin' to go it alone."

"It'll be worse tonight."

"Why?"

"I won't hear his snorin', or his alarm goin' off for his 'biological routine'," ," she murmured thickly.

Tig didn't know what to say to comfort her. "That sucks." It was the best he could come up with.

"Yeah, it does. It's been difficult enough to get used to just hearin' the cats snore with y'all locked up," she admitted.

"I don't snore!" Tig protested hotly.

"Sure, you just breathe heavy at night," she retorted.

"Prolly 'cause I'm dreamin' of you," he countered.

"I suppose so," she sighed wearily, all her energy for banter exhausted. "Havin' a full house does kinda help."

"The charters stayin' there too?"

"Oh, no!" She laughed through her tears. "The house would be filled to the rafters. They're stayin' at the 'no tel' motel around the block."

"I dunno if I like you being in that house with so many men!" He growled protectively.

"Oh please!" She chuckled mistily. "My elder brother Jan, along with Adrian and Chuckie? They're no competition for y'all!"

"Damn straight!" Alex's chest puffed out with pride. "Are the charters gonna hang around the house at night?"

"They're in the side yard right now makin' plans. They'll probably have a couple of guys on me every hour on the hour," she retorted.

"Now's not the time to relax, baby. That shitbird might not obey the club's warnin'," Alex cautioned.

"He hasn't," she replied. "Oh, damn! You weren't supposed to hear that!"

"Well I heard it, so start talkin' woman!" He growled. 'I've got a bad feelin' about this!'