Charming Pawse Bk III Chapt 20 Dark Shadows Uncovered

by wanderingchat

Cat's left eye is undamaged from the wreck, but head injuries from the past combined with the current injuries worry the physicians. A neurologist is called in, who leads Alex to call on June to tell him what really happened between Cat and the 'lone wolf' she'd loved long ago. The truth he uncovers is worse than any horror movie.

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

No copyright infringement is intended.

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

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

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

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

WARNING! At the very last part of this chapter, dear reader, is a graphic (for me) and potentially disturbin' rape scene. It might be a little too disturbin' for some. My apologies in advance.

Charming Pawse

Book III

Chapter XIX

Alex glanced from Dr. Gallagher to Dr. DeSoto. "So are you two sayin' my girl's gonna be a'right?"

"Actually no, Mr. Trager. The tests showed something that has us concerned."

Cat tensed under Alex's arm. She frowned at the two doctors, wordlessly pleading with them to stay silent about the ancient injuries the tests had uncovered. 'If I'd known they were gonna go on a scavenger hunt, I wouldn't have taken that frackin' pill!'

Alex felt her reaction to the doctor's words. Alarm bells went off in his head, reminding him of the message June had left. 'Could this have somethin' to do with that message?'

Dr. DeSoto couldn't miss the plea in Cat's face. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Trager. This is something that your husband needs to know," he stated sadly.

She moaned slightly and shook her head again. "Please don't! It's very ancient history and doesn't have a damn thing to do with the here and now."

"I appreciate your feelings, Mrs. Trager," Dr. DeSoto replied. "However, that 'ancient history' does have an impact on the here and now. Your husband deserves to know what happened to you then and what might happen in the future as a result."

"The damn cat's already outta the bag, so ya might as well 'fess up, baby," Alex added.

She glared balefully at the three men, desperately trying to think of a way out of telling Alex the secret she'd never shared with him. "I am really beginnin' to re - evaluate my opinion about men!"

"Go ahead," Alex replied. "Meanwhile, you can tell me what the fuck they're talkin' about!"

"If you don't tell him, we'll have to," Dr. Gallagher stated. Cat fumed inwardly. She'd never intended for Alex to know the full extent of harm 'Brownie' had done to her all those years ago. 'But how can I explain these injuries to him without the doctors callin' me out on the lie?'

Mistaking her silence for stubbornness, Alex put a hand under her chin to force her to turn to look at him. "Baby, I'd really rather hear it from you," he murmured softly. His eyes held a silent plea that she not shut him out. That expression hurt her heart. "Damn you," she swore softly. "I don't know why y'all are makin' such a big deal outta it! " She sighed in resignation. "Those injuries y'all are so concerned about came from my bein' a clumsy toddler. I also laid my first bike down a few times while learnin' to ride it. One of those falls resulted in my face makin' contact with the pavement!"

Both doctors' eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. They knew she was lying. The injuries the tests had uncovered were more traumatic than any simple fall from a short distance would cause.

'Oh, shit! They're not buyin' it!' Cat hastily added, "What can I say? I'm just hard headed in more ways than one!" She joked feebly.

Alex wasn't paying attention to the doctors. His focus was entirely on his wife. If he'd been watching them, he'd have seen the pair exchange another wary glance before they shrugged in unison.

'If that's the way she wants to play it, that's her right,' Dr. Gallagher thought to himself.

Dr. DeSoto didn't share his colleague's opinion, though it was obvious to him that the patient didn't want her husband to know the extent of those previous injuries. 'She doesn't want him to know they were deliberately caused for some reason. I won't pursue it now, but I certainly intend to get to the bottom of it!'

Alex grinned and shook his finger in a warning manner in front of her nose. "I can't believe ya got all worked up over somethin' so simple, woman!" He glanced up at the doctors and shrugged.

"Sometimes the fairer sex feels a need for drama, Mr. Trager," Dr. DeSoto replied dryly. He gazed intently at his patient, who glared triumphantly back at him. 'Point won, but the match isn't over yet, lady!'

"True, dat. So what kind of trouble can a few minor bumps and bruises from years ago cause now?"

This was the moment Cat dreaded. The physician's next words had the potential to send Alex into a rampage. 'He'll want to get revenge for what was done to me all those years ago. That part I can live with. I can't take the frustration that will come because he won't be able to act on it!'

'Your wife has had a number of head injuries in her life. Those combined with this most recent one could cause chronic migraines, and other issues as she gets older," Dr. DeSoto explained. "We want to run some more tests tomorrow. Then we can determine the best course of treatment."

Cat breathed an inward sigh of relief that the visiting doctor hadn't spilled the beans. She didn't like the sound of what might happen to her in the future.

"But you said she doesn't need surgery, right?" Alex asked worriedly.

"That's correct, Mr. Trager. There's no pressure or fluid on her brain. However, the headaches could cause her a great deal of pain."

"Like the migraine she had when she got sunstroke a few months ago?"

Dr. Gallagher nodded. "They'll be similar, at times they might be worse."

"I accept that," Alex sighed with relief.

"Well I don't!" Cat exclaimed. "I'm gettin' the feelin' that y'all are dancin' around the possibility that there might be brain damage. If not now, it'll manifest itself in the future." An image of her in years to come having the same memory issues as her step - mother flooded her mind, making her shiver with apprehension. Alex drew the blanket up over her, drawing her closer to share his own body heat. "Are ya cold, baby?"

"No, I'm scared of what they're not sayin'!"

"Whaddya mean?"

"Is there a possibility that I'll become demented in my old age?" She spat.

"That's what we want to find out, Mrs. Trager," Dr. DeSoto replied gently. He nudged his colleague and added, "We're going to do some research and consider the treatment options. The tests will tell us more."

"I know this sounds trite after all this, but try not to worry for now," Dr. Gallagher stated.

"That's easy for you to say," Cat retorted dryly. "I'm goin' to have nightmares about this!"

"I'll be here to chase 'em away, baby!" Alex assured her.

"We'll leave you two alone for now," Dr. Gallagher stated, grinning at the outlaw's unflinching support of his wife. "Your wife could use some rest, I suspect."

"I won't argue with that!" Cat exclaimed tiredly. She was still worried about her future, but relaxed that the truth about Brownie's physical abuse was still a secret.

"I figured you wouldn't," DeSoto observed wryly. He nodded at the couple before following Dr. Gallagher out to the hallway. The minute the door shut behind them Gallagher launched into a quiet tirade. "So just what are we going to do now?"

"What we said we'd do, research our options. And we'll wait until we can talk to her husband without her present," DeSoto sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand.

"She won't be happy with that!"

"That's tough! You know as well as I do that those injuries were caused by blunt force trauma!" DeSoto struggled to keep his voice under control.

"But why doesn't she want her husband to know she was physically abused in the past?" Gallagher asked.

DeSoto merely shrugged, he had no idea why their patient kept such a ghastly secret to herself.

They walked down the hall towards the nurses' station. "Maybe because she knows he would lose his temper and go after whoever hurt her. Men like him have a tendency to seek vengeance when someone they care about have been hurt."

"I suppose that's true," DeSoto sighed. "One good thing is that he's not the culprit; they haven't been together that long."

"I'm glad you said that. I was afraid you were going to accuse him," Dr. Gallagher observed.

"Do you think he bought her story?"

"Hard to tell. Probably for now, but if she doesn't tell him, he's going to have to know the root cause."

The doctors wrote orders for the next day's series of tests, and Dr. Gallagher also wrote an order for a stronger does of the anti - stress medicine. "Give her this one immediately," he instructed the nurse.

"Yes, doctor," the nurse replied, picking up the phone to order the medicine from the pharmacy.

Alex slid off the bed and stood next to it, crossing his arms over his chest. He glared down at his wife. "What the fuck is goin' on, woman?"

"Just what they said, love," she replied, staring him right in the eye. "Apparently all the knocks I've had to the head in life have caught up with me. I'm sure they're goin' to figure out treatment options that'll keep me from turnin' into a bitch on wheels."

'Why do I have a hard time believin' ya, baby?' he wondered to himself. 'Cat doesn't hestitate from keepin' shit from me if she thinks it's gonna upset me. This feels like one of those times.' He snorted and pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I dunno, baby. Ya seemed really tense for a while there, like ya thought they were gonna expose some deep, dark secret."

"I was just afraid they were going to tell you I might start havin' seizures in the future," she replied airily.

He gave her 'The Look'.

"C'mon, love!" She protested. "I've told y'all everything there is to know about me."

"Have ya?"

She stared at him in surprise. "Why would y'all ask such a question?"

The frown left his face to be replaced with overwhelming concern. "I've just got a bad feelin' about this, baby. It sounds serious."

"I know, love. I'm worried about endin' up like either of my mothers."

He shook his head in denial. "Ya won't ever be like your birth mother! I won't let it happen!"

"But what about dementia? It sounds like that could be a possibility!" She didn't voice the question uppermost on her mind. 'Will y'all still be with me if I forget who you are?'

Alex sat on the side of the bed and took her hand in his. "Baby, that's a long way off, but ya aren't gettin' rid of me that easily!"

A tap at the door interrupted them, followed immediately by the nurse's entrance. "Medicine time, Mrs. Trager!"

Cat raised one eyebrow. "Really? It's a little early isn't it?"

"Dr. Gallagher prescribed it. He felt you were a little stressed," the nurse assured her, holding out the small paper cup that contained the pill.

"Take it, baby. You are pretty stressed right now, and ya know ya need the rest," Alex urged her.

She accepted the cup and tossed the pill to the back of her throat, chasing it down with some of the lukewarm white chocolate coffee. The nurse smiled at them and departed.

Alex reached across the bed to lower the head to a more relaxing position for her. "You relax, baby, and close your eyes. I'm gonna eat." He pointed to the bag and small box sitting on the bedside table.

"Will y'all be stayin' around awhile?" she inquired sleepily.

"I said I'd stay the night, and that you're not gettin' rid of me easily!" He growled. 'What brought that on? She's not one of those clingin' females!'

She smiled ruefully, removed her glasses and the shaded insert, and placed them on the rolling table. "I know y'all did. Just needed to hear you say it again," she murmured. "Guess this latest news sorta rattled my confidence."

He leaned down and drew the covers over her, running his hand over her hair. "That's understandable," he whispered. "Sorry I barked at ya, baby," he pressed his lips against hers in apology.

"It's OK," she breathed into his mouth. "Your bark isn't as bad as your bite!"

He gently nipped her upper lip as a reminder that he was just as capable of biting as he was of barking.

---

Ima looked up from her laptop at the sound of a key grating in the lock. She was curled up on her couch, working on her internet coursework. She welcomed that sound. It told her Kozik had returned for the night. The door swung open just as she looked up to see him framed in the doorway. He stepped across the threshold, a wide smile crossing his face at the sight of his girl as he closed the door behind him.

"Hi, gorgeous!"

"Welcome back! How was your day?" She replied.

"Not bad."

"You could've fooled me!" She frowned, turning off the laptop and setting it on the coffee table.

"What do you mean?"

She pointed to his face. "Looks like you went a couple of rounds with Evander Holyfield!"

"Oh, that!" He grinned guiltily. "Not quite. Challenged Tig to a boxing match at Lumpy's."

"Is Tig as bad off?" She took him by the hand and led him through the bedroom to the bath.

"I wish. He pulled some fancy moves on me he learned from his old lady, of all people!" Kozik admitted. "Somethin' called 'tai chi'."

Ima pushed him onto the closed commode lid, looking over the dried blood on his face and hands. She shook her head and opened the medicine cabinet. "Is that legal?"

"Lumpy says there isn't a law against it, since we weren't havin' an official bout."

She pressed her lips together in disapproval while she removed a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, cotton pads, and adhesive tape from the medicine cabinet. She set the items on the counter and ran warm water into the sink, adding some soap in order to clean his face and hands.

"Is it that bad, baby?" He asked.

"Look for yourself," she replied while removing a clean washcloth from the linen closet. She swished it in the warm, soapy water.

"Whew!" He whistled, getting his first good look at his wounds.

"Now I want you to hold still. This might sting a little," she admonished. She started with his knuckles, gently dabbing the washcloth on the injuries. Kozik hissed through his teeth, but didn't squirm as she bathed his hands. Once the dirt and grime were removed, the injuries on his knuckles turned out to be minor scrapes. She didn't want to take a chance with infection, and thoroughly doused a cotton pad with the peroxide.

"That ain't gonna burn, will it?" He asked guardedly.

"No. It'll froth, but you won't feel a thing," she assured him. She gently dabbed the pad on his scrapes as he watched. His hands were tense under hers until he realized that the liquid indeed didn't sting.

"Never saw that happen before," he mused in astonishment. "And it doesn't stink!"

"No, it doesn't," she smiled. "It'll disinfect the wounds just as well as any other disinfectant."

She rinsed the washcloth out in the sink and began cleaning his face. She winced at the sight of the cuts so close to his eye on both sides of his face. "Does this hurt?"

"Nah. You've got a nice touch," he murmured.

She gazed at the cuts on his face. Though bruised as well, the cuts didn't appear deep enough to need stitches. "I'm going to put an anti – bacterial cream on these cuts, so they'll heal quicker," she explained, holding out a tube of the ointment. "Don't worry," she added as he drew breath to ask. "It doesn't sting."

"No, but it's cold!" He protested, shying away from the cotton swab she used to dab the cool ointment on him.

"Sorry, lover. Heating this up renders it ineffective." She laid a hand against his cheek to keep him from turning his head and applied the ointment to the cut. She repeated the same action on the other side of his face. Then she applied a fresh sterile pad to the cuts, holding them down with strips of adhesive. She also put cotton pads on his skinned knuckles, holding those down with pieces of tape. "All finished!" She announced, stepping back to view her handiwork. "How do you feel?"

"Like a mummy," he grinned. "All wrapped up. Thanks, baby," he drew her against him and kissed her soundly. "That's 'hello'," he announced, gazing into her eyes. "And this is 'thank you'." He repeated the gesture.

"So, are you hungry?"

Kozik's stomach gave off a resounding gurgle.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'!" She laughed. "C'mon, lover. Dinner's ready. You can tell me about the rest of your day."

"Hmmm. I actually had somethin' else in mind," Kozik leered.

"Well, you'll perform better with a food in your stomach, mister!" She frowned in a mock – seriousness manner. "Can't have you fainting on me, can I?"

"That's true!" He followed her out to the kitchen, settling into the same chair he'd occupied at breakfast that morning.

Ima placed an open beer on the table in front of him, then proceeded to place warmed plates on the table for them.

"You don't have to wait for me, baby. If you're hungry, eat. There's gonna be times when I might not be home til late," Kozik stated.

"I don't mind," she assured him with a smile. "My schedule is often all over the place. I'm sure there'll be some nights when I'm out later than you!"

"I don't doubt it. But don't starve yourself on my account!" He glanced at the laptop on the coffee table behind him. "Were ya workin' on your studies?"

She nodded around a mouthful of food.

"Hmm," he murmured, praising the food and indicating he understood what she'd been doing when he walked in.

"Was it boring at the clubhouse with everybody gone?" She inquired.

"Not really. The garage is always busy, and Clay's always willing to hire another set of hands. Tig's got a rebuild of a vintage Challenger going on. It's gonna be a beaut when he finishes it!"

"I've heard he's a good mechanic," Ima replied.

"I kinda made workin' on it a little difficult for him," Kozik admitted.

"How?"

"I kept takin' tools outta his box, instead of usin' the community toolbox. Every time he needed somethin', I had it! Drove him nuts!"

Ima tried not to smile, but was unable to suppress it. A small grin crossed her face. She could imagine the temper tantrum the SAA would've engaged in! "I'd say it's no wonder Tig tried to mop the boxing ring up with you!" She chortled.

Kozik grinned back. "Prolly."

They ate in companionable silence before Kozik brought up the Liberty Street area. "Have any of your co – workers heard anything?"

"Just rumors," she shrugged. "Something about the business owners being forced into selling. Dondo was afraid they might come after him, since his studio is close to that area."

"Has anyone approached him?"

Ima shook her head. "Not a word."

Kozik sighed inwardly with relief. "Then the studio's a'right. It just seems to be that one block of Liberty Street that's affected. Lumpy Feldstein's the only hold out."

Ima gazed at his worried expression. She realized that Lumpy must be someone close to Kozik. "Is he a friend?"

"Yeah, and not just of the club," he admitted.

"You're worried about him."

"Well, yeah. He's been gettin' these veiled hints to sell. He won't."

"Shouldn't you be with him, in case something happens?" Ima asked gently, laying her hand on top of his.

"I thought about it, but Tig left one of the prospects behind. This is the kind of thing they have to do to earn their patches. They don't need me underfoot."

Ima sensed that Kozik's feelings for the boxing master went deeper than for a friend. "Would you feel better if you went there for a bit to visit? Make sure he's OK?" She asked softly.

"Nah. He's in good hands. I'll call him in the mornin'," he assured her, turning his hand over so that his fingers ensnared hers.

"I really don't mind. He sounds like someone you look up to and respect."

"What makes ya think that, baby?"

She gazed intently at him. "I can tell from your tone of voice. He's important to you. That makes him important to me."

Kozik gazed at her in surprise. He'd gotten an earful from the garage employees about Ima, and none of it had been favorable. He'd eventually gotten to the point where he'd told all the guys off if they uttered one more unkind comment about her. Despite the fact that the mechanics had called her shallow and uncaring, Ima was demonstrating a gentle and compassionate nature to him. He doubted it was an act. "Baby, I appreciate that more than you can know. Thanks, but I'm content where I am, unless you need to get rid of me to study!"

She smiled and shook her head before getting up to clear the table. "I'd just finished the assignment when you got home. I'm all yours for the night!"

"Now that's the best news I've heard all day!" He grinned.

---

Dr. DeSoto opened the door to Cat Trager's room and poked his head past the door frame. He smiled slightly to see that the patient was sound asleep while her husband was chowing down on his dinner. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt your meal," he apologized as he backed out the door. "I'll just come back."

"Ya might as well stay, doc," Alex waved him inside. "You're obviously here for a reason."

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you," Dr. DeSoto replied, stepping into the dim room and closing the door behind him. He carried a large manila folder under one arm and leaned against the door, watching the outlaw watch him.

Alex glanced longingly at the cake box, then set it aside and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He stood up, tossing the food bag with the remaining sandwich in it onto the table and walked over to stand in front of the doctor. "Those Cat's test results?" He pointed to the folder.

Dr. DeSoto nodded. "Would you mind stepping out into the corridor with me? I don't want to disturb your wife."

Alex glanced back over his shoulder. Cat was lying on her back, sound asleep. Her chest rose and fell with each breath.

"I think she's pretty out of it, doc. She'd prolly sleep through an earthquake!"

"That may be, but I don't want to take the chance of disturbing her," Dr. DeSoto insisted.

Alex shrugged and indicated the physician should precede him out of the room. He followed the doctor into the hall, blinking furiously to allow his eyes to adjust to the bright hallway from the dim room.

Dr DeSoto moved to a screen that protruded into the hallway near Cat's room. The screen was lighted from the back to enable the doctors to examine x rays and other films. He slid the films from the folder onto the screen and turned on the light. Dr. DeSoto turned to face Alex and explained, "These are the X – rays that were taken when she was first admitted. These others," he pointed out the multiple images on one sheet, "are the MRI and CT scans we took today. I know this is all pretty foreign to you, but I wanted you to see everything."

Alex was fascinated by his wife's skull structure. The frontal X - ray showed the silver of glass that had been caught in her eye, as well as the busted cartilage in her nasal cavity. "Whew!" She really took a beatin'!" He whistled softly.

"This isn't the first time this has happened to her, Mr. Trager," Dr. DeSoto replied dryly.

"What are ya talkin' about?" The neurologist pointed to the many black lines visible on Cat's skull. Some of the wavy lines were thick and jagged, other were thin but just as jagged. The smaller ones were on her face and the sides of her head. There was one large, very jagged one at the back of her skull.

"What the Hell are those?" Alex growled. He felt his body grow icy cold. His hands involuntarily clenched into fists at his sides.

"Those lines are fractures, Mr. Trager."

Alex glared in disbelief at the doctor. "All of 'em?"

"All of them," the doctor confirmed. "None were sustained from this incident, nor did they come from any falls, despite what she told you earlier," Dr. DeSoto explained grimly. "All of these fractures were deliberately inflicted."

Alex's expression turned menacing. "Are ya thinkin' I'm responsible for all that?" His growl was filled with deadly intent.

"If I did, you wouldn't be staying in that room alone with your wife," Dr. DeSoto replied fearlessly, meeting the outlaw's intense gaze.

Alex's expression softened. "Fair enough. Any idea how and when those happened?"

"The 'when' is quite a few years ago. I'd say at least two decades or more," Dr. DeSoto stated. "The 'how' is a more chilling matter."

"Least now I know how ya knew I wasn't responsible!" Alex smiled grimly. 'But I've got a damn good idea who did hurt her!' June's comment in her 'goodbye' message to him made much more sense.

"As for the 'how', I believe it's more of a 'why', and you're not going to like the answer, Mr. Trager. That's likely the reason that your wife blamed herself." He used a pen to point out the heavier black lines at the back of the skull and her face, "is evidence of blunt force trauma."

Alex closed his eyes in pain and sorrow, trying to shut out the sight. Though he felt chilled, hot anger rushed through him like fire. He groaned over the indignity his woman had suffered before they'd ever met. "Why would someone wanna do that to her, doc?"

"Whoever it was obviously wanted to kill her. She's damn lucky to have survived, and even luckier not to have sustained major brain damage!" Dr. DeSoto exclaimed. "I've reviewed her medical history. She went through a long period of rehab and came out of it to be the woman you know today."

"I've heard that women who go through somethin' like that tend to be afraid of men," Alex frowned. "That's not the case with my wife."

"It's not unusual. It depends upon the individual. Your wife is made of pretty strong stuff."

"True dat."

"I notice that since that incident, your wife has been treated for depression and PTSS. Her history also mentions a phobia of succumbing to the same chronic mental illness as her mother."

"Yeah. You saw some of that earlier," Alex admitted.

"It's good that she shared that with you. There's record that the injury caused a change in her behavior, specifically that she has a short temper."

"She can go a little wild when she's riled up, but it doesn't happen often," Alex replied.

"But when it does, I imagine it's like a long dormant volcano suddenly exploding," Dr. DeSoto insisted.

Alex grinned a little sheepishly. "You got that right!"

"The fact that she's aware of and watchful of her own behavior is a good thing. It enables her to seek treatment if or when she feels out of control."

"I know ya told her this, but what chance is there that she'll go nuts?"

"We honestly won't know the answer until we run the tests and determine a method of treatment."

"I accept that. I just wonder why Gallagher and that eye doctor called ya in on her case?"

"The symptoms she was experiencing concerned them."

"What symptoms?"

"The headaches she complained of when she was too active are the first symptoms she's admitted to. There were other symptoms that the lay person wouldn't know to look for."

"Such as?"

"Her pupils are unequal in size and there was that earlier inability to wake up from a sound sleep," Dr. DeSoto explained.

Alex thought about the two times he'd been afraid for her when he couldn't wake her. "Shit!" He muttered under his breath. "That happened twice! I shoulda brought her in after the first one!"

"You didn't know, and I doubt any harm was done in not bringing her in the first time," Dr. DeSoto assured him. "Though she suffered a mild concussion, the force of the accident forced her brain to move about in the skull. Picture a super ball bouncing all over a room after it's thrown."

"I follow ya," Alex whispered.

"The fact that she recovered from the earlier trauma is testament to her will."

Admiration and pride shone in Alex's troubled expression. "You don't know the number of times I've complained about her bein' headstrong, it sometimes frustrates me!"

"There's nothing wrong with that, Mr. Trager. What we all want to watch for are signs that she's having trouble with vision, hearing, and speech. Her temper getting shorter would be another danger signal. If any one of those occur, it's imperative to get her in for evaluation and treatment as soon as possible," Dr. DeSoto explained.

"You've got my word, doc!" Alex promised vehemently. 'Poor baby! I never would've guessed you'd gone through such an ordeal!' He pointed to the back lit films and glared menacingly as he vowed, "If I ever find the bastard who did that, I'll kill 'em!"

"I think that's what she fears most, son."

Alex glared at the doctor. "Why? She accepts the kind of man I am."

"You misunderstood me, Mr. Trager. She's not afraid you'll kill whoever did this. She's afraid whoever did this might kill you."

---

Miles and Filthy Phil were enjoying a rare moment of relaxation in the clubhouse. There wasn't as much work to do with most of the patched members away and Tig at the hospital with his wife. The garage had closed and their chores were completed. Filthy was sprawled out on the sofa while Miles relaxed in the leather armchair next to it.

We'd better enjoy this while we can, dude," Phil murmured. "When the guys get back, we'll be burnin' the candle at both ends."

"Yeah, I guess," Miles sighed.

Filthy opened his eyes and sat up to stare at his fellow prospect. "You still worried about Sebastian?"

"Guesso. He seemed pretty nervous when we left him at the gym. I've been thinkin' about callin' him."

"What good would that do?"

Miles shrugged. "Maybe nothin'. Maybe give him a boost of confidence. I just don't know. I just have a bad feelin'."

Phil waved his hand in the air. "It's up to you, bro. Thing is, if he's scared, he might try to talk ya into takin' over for him."

"Maybe that'd be a good idea," Miles observed. "He was actin' strange all day before we went to Lumpy's." He dug his phone out of his pocket and dialed Sebastian's number. It rang a few times before Sebastian answered. "Hey, dude. It's Miles."

"What's up?" The prospect's voice sounded less tense than earlier.

"Just thought I'd check in, see if you're doin' a'right with the assignment."

"That was because of the gun. Never touched one before. It kinda made me nervous," Sebastian admitted.

"Are you shitting me?" Miles cried. "You've never held a gun?"

"Say what?" Phil asked, alarmed by Miles' outburst.

"He's never touched a gun!" Miles mouthed.

"I heard ya the first time, just can't believe it," Phil moaned. "Jesus Christ!" He envisioned a trip back to Lumpy's Gym in his near future. 'If anything goes down tonight, he could do more harm to himself than any troublemaker!'

"It's OK, Miles! I've been getting used to it, handling it. Besides, everything's quiet," Sebastian assured him.

"There's more to usin' a gun than handlin' it, dude! What about shooting?"

"What about it?"

Miles rolled his eyes. "What are ya gonna do if someone comes around making trouble?"

"Call the police," Sebastian replied. That seemed the most logical answer to him. "That is what they're paid to do."

"Maybe one of us needs to go out and take over after all." Phil observed. He positioned himself on the couch so he could get up if he had to.

"I heard that," Sebastian snorted. "It's not necessary. I can handle this."

"Did you do an outside check of the building?" Miles asked.

"Yeah. Inside too. Everything's fine. I don't need a baby sitter!"

"Just stay alert, dude. If anyone's gonna try anything, it's gonna be really late tonight," Miles reminded him.

"Yeah. I know," Sebastian replied through a yawn.

"That means ya don't wanna fall asleep on the job!"

"I know!" Sebastian snarled. "I know! I'm staying out in the lobby so I won't be tempted to sleep."

Miles nodded. "Good idea. Look, if ya don't want us to come out, Phil and I will respect that. But you've got my number so don't hesitate to call if ya change your mind."

"I won't," Sebastian stated before he closed his phone, abruptly ending the call.

"That didn't sound promising," Phil observed. "Wanna go out anyway?"

"Naw," Miles replied, shoving his phone back in his pocket. "He's claims he's got it handled. We can't clean up after him all the time."

---

Alex was stunned by the neurologist's revelation. It had never occurred to him that Cat might harbor any fears of his safety. 'What kind of bastard is that 'Brownie' fella anyway? I've never come across an enemy that I can't beat - one way or the other!' He stumbled drunkenly to the visitor's lounge and sprawled into a chair in a corner. He sat with his head on his knees, breathing in great gulps of air. It felt like a vice constricted his lungs.

Dr. DeSoto followed him into the lounge, concerned over the outlaw's behavior. "Mr. Trager, are you all right?"

Alex looked up at the doctor and nodded. "Yeah. You threw quite a curve ball at me, doc. It kinda knocked the wind outta me."

Dr. DeSoto sat down next to Alex and placed a firm hand on the biker's shoulder. "Are you sure? If you feel a need to talk, I'd be happy to stay," he offered.

Alex shook his head. "Thanks anyway, doc. I kinda need to be by myself and think."

"Have the nurse page me if you change your mind." He replied, rising from the chair to return to the lighted screen. He turned it off and gathered the films in the manila envelope before casting one last inquiring glance at the outlaw.

Alex lifted a hand to indicate he was OK. DeSoto reluctantly moved down the hall towards the nurses' station.

Alex shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose with one hand. 'Jesus Christ!' He glanced at the clock on the wall across from him and added three hours. 'Still time to catch her awake.' He decided against using his burner. He needed to save the battery and the call was going to take time.

He stood up and returned to Cat's room, stealthily creeping around the bed to retrieve her iPhone. He saw the headset she preferred to use with it and took both items out to the lounge. No visitors were present and the nurses were busy with their duties. He could talk to June without anyone overhearing her part of the conversation.

'I've gotta remember to get one of these for my burner. It'll make calls placed in less than prime conditions one Hell of a lot easier.'

He sprawled in the strategically placed chair, stretched his legs out in front of him, and accessed June's telephone number from the contacts list. 'I just hope she answers!'

"Hey chick! How goes it?" June's cheery voice inquired. The ear piece made her sound as if she were sitting right next to him.

"It's Alex, Sweetheart," he replied tiredly. "It's goin' weird."

"I see. Apparently the neurologist consult has taken place and our girl tried to give you a cover story that all those fractures were caused by a lot of falls," she observed.

"You're good, sweetheart."

"Not really. I've just been around her a little longer than you. That's the same story she told her Dad when the hospital called him when she was hurt. He fell for it hook, line, and sinker." June assured him.

"Well, this is one shark that refuses to be reeled in," Alex retorted. "Would you believe the brain doc thinks Cat was afraid to tell me what really happened to her?"

"Yes. You do tend to be very protective of her," June replied. "Downright Neanderthal in fact."

"C'mon, sweetheart! Do you honestly think that fucktard could kill me if I went after him for hurtin' our girl?" Alex asked incredulously. "If I were a lesser man, I'd think you two had no faith in my abilities."

'Damn you, Cat! This should be your job! You're the one who's so confident Brownie will never find y'all!' June fumed inwardly. "Cat fully believes in you, stud," she continued. "It's just that she knows how evil the other guy is."

"June, I really need answers here. It feels like I'm treadin' water in a shark pool!" Alex pleaded. "At least tell me why that fucktard tried to kill her! Cat won't tell me, so you're all I have left for intel."

"Damn you and the bike y'all rode in on!" June swore. "Hold on while I grab some coffee. I'm gonna need it."

Alex settled back in the lounge chair. He was grateful for the little ear piece. It looked to passers by as if he were listening to music and kept him from being disturbed. He could hear sounds from the other end of the connection as June prepared her coffee. He had a feeling that she was hoping he'd either give up and hang up the phone from his end, or get called away on club business. 'Not gonna happen, sweetheart!'

Eventually, he was rewarded by the sounds of the receiver being picked up, then a 'click' and the unmistakable hollow sound of her voice through her own phone's speaker. "Y'all still there?"

"I am," he replied. A ghost of a smile crossed his face as he envisioned her disappointment.

"Can't blame a girl for hopin'," she grumbled. "Just understand that I don't like talkin' about Cat behind her back like this."

"If it makes ya feel any better, you're not talkin' about her behind her back. She's in her room, sound asleep. I'm in the lounge nearby."

"It figures," she sighed. She remained silent a moment, marshaling her memories together. "Lemme start by askin' y'all what you already know."

Alex closed his eyes and laid his head back against the back of the chair. "She told me how she and that asshat first met and how he left Vincennes under suspicious circumstances."

"Anything else? What about her time in Terre Haute with him?"

"Just that he came back and she eventually saw him for the fucktard he is," Alex replied. "I know he used her to try to get what he wanted, her money, and left her emotionally scared."

"Well, that's true, in one sense of the word. At least it's a start, so I won't bore y'all with those details," June sighed. "Did she tell you he prospected the local outlaw club there?"

"Yeah. I knew about that, too. It's why she's taken so well to my bein' in SAMCRO."

"You're lucky, stud," June stated dryly. "There's not a lot of women in this world who'd take the back seat to a club!"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! I've never relegated her to the back seat, sweetheart!" Alex protested. "Let's be clear on that."

"I'm not arguin' with y'all, just remindin' you of how lucky you are."

"Ya think I don't know it?"

"Just makin' sure, honey," June replied soothingly. "Cory - Brownie - becomin' a prospect was good for her in one way. If he hadn't been part of the club, and the club didn't think so highly of her, she wouldn't be alive today."

"Care to elaborate, sweetheart?"

"I'll tell y'all about it, but only if you promise not to go flyin' off the handle on me."

Alex made himself comfortable, willing himself to relax. "I promise not to yell at you," he stated flatly. "I make no promises where that bastard is concerned!"

"Guess that'll have to do," June retorted. "Buckle your seat belt, hon. This is gonna be a bumpy ride."

---

Luisa sat in the all night diner in Lodi, tensely waiting for Hector to return. She'd ordered coffee for herself, but instead of drinking it, she toyed with the cup, turning it around in her hands.

Hector pulled his bike into the parking lot of the diner, stopping right next to Luisa's Camaro. He was happy with the results of his night's work. He felt confident that claiming the Mayans had done the damage to the gym would force a war between the Sons and Alvarez' club. He sauntered into the diner and looked around until he saw Luisa sitting and waiting for him. A wide smile crossed his face as she slid onto the bench opposite her.

"Success, baby!" He crowed, holding up the Olympic medal he'd taken as a souvenir.

"What is that?" Luisa frowned.

"A memento," he replied, stuffing it back in his jacket pocket as the waitress came over with a coffee pot and menus. He indicated he wanted coffee and accepted the menu. "Have you eaten yet, Chula?"

She shook her head. "Been too keyed up."

"Then let's order! I'm starved!" Hector grinned.

Luisa picked up the menu and scanned it. She really didn't care what she ate, but would do so to make Hector happy. She relaxed for the first time since he'd left her to carry out the assignment. She knew it had been successful because he had come back to her.

Hector ordered a gigantic meal. Wreaking havoc always gave him an appetite.

Luisa wasn't as hungry and settled for soup and a half sandwich.

After the waitress left, Luisa announced that she'd driven by the SAMCRO VP's house. "It's still dark. No sign of the black Olds. I think she's not staying there, Hector."

"Damn!" He swore softly. "That's not good! We should have followed her to see where she was going."

"I took a chance and drove past Teller - Morrow," Luisa added. "The black Olds wasn't there either, so we can rule the compound out."

"That was dangerous, Chula!"

Luisa shook her head. "No, baby. They don't know my car. I was perfectly safe!"

"I just don't like the idea of you taking chances," Hector replied.

"I was fine, baby. My car was just one of many cruising past the garage to an unknown destination. No one paid any attention to me."

Hector rubbed his chin in thought. "It's not going to be easy to find her if she's not staying at the clubhouse."

"If we knew her name, we could try looking her up in the directory, find her house that way," Luisa observed.

"Unfortunately, Chula, we don't have that intel," Hector replied.

They sat quietly for a few moments, then Luisa's face brightened. "I think I know how we can get it!"

"How?" Hector inquired. Luisa leaned forward. "That gringo that hired you can provide it to us! He obviously knows SAMCRO well, and probably knows their old ladies!"

Hector mulled over the idea. What she said had merit. It sure beat their only alternative, which was cruising all over Charming in search of the Black vintage Oldsmobile. "I like the way you think, Chula," Hector grinned. Then he sobered. "The problem is, we don't know who he is or where to find him. We'll have to do a little cruisin' to find him!"

"True, but how many grey haired gringos drive German luxury cars in seedy areas of town? If he used his car to hire you, it's likely he's gonna use it to hire other people."

Hector stroked his chin as he thought. "That's true. It'll take time, so we have to decide if we're gonna look for her or the man with the bread."

"Why not both? If we find her, we don't need him!" Luisa exclaimed softly. "If we find him, he'll wind up pointing us in the right direction to find that bitch!"

Hector smiled grimly. "I like that idea, Luisa!"

"I knew you would," she replied softly. "What happened at the gym?"

He leaned back with a satisfied smile. "It went exactly as I expected. There was no police patrol outside, and none of the members of SAMCRO was anywhere around."

"How can you be sure?"

"Ha! If SAMCRO had anyone guarding the old man, he would have shot at me before I could've fired once! No one but the old man was in that gym!" Hector assured her. He then filled her in on what he'd done to destroy the lobby and to convince the owner to sell.

"Hitting the old man might not have been such a good idea, Hector," Luisa mused. "What if he dies?"

"All the better!" Hector announced. "SAMCRO will get the message that the Mayans did it; several civilians saw me speeding away from Liberty Street. They'll identify the bike and SAMCRO will immediately blame Alvarez!"

"So everything went as you expected, baby," Luisa crooned.

"Si. Now we move on to our next plan," Hector replied. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, baby. Let's go home."

Hector took their bill to the cashier and paid for their meal. He was in such a good mood that he left a $20 bill as a tip to the waitress.

---

One thing y'all need to keep in mind about that time is that Cat was battling major depression over the many sudden and permanent changes in her life. 'Brownie', who often went by the name of Cory, had left Vincennes under a cloud two years earlier," June explained.

"I know that," Alex stated.

"She was working full time at the radio station as the morning drive DJ and carried a full load ofo college courses as well. She told me she'd left the dorms to move into an apartment in order to start over again."

" Isn't that about the time her mother's schizophrenia was kickin' up?"

"It was," June admitted. "Her mother held her remaining neutral during the divorce against her for years. She had lost everything that had been stable in her life and was desperately unhappy."

"Just ripe for that asshat to strike!" Alex snarled.

"And strike he did. . ."

Cat settled into bed on a cold January early morning. She'd just returned home after her weekly night out with the Indiana Theatre Players when the telephone began ringing. She battled down a shiver of fright, as late night phone calls always meant bad news. She picked up the receiver with a guarded, "Hello?"

The operator informed her she had a collect call from Brownie and asked if she'd accept the charges.

"Of course!" She replied, relief and joy evident in her voice.

The operator connected the call and they talked for well over an hour, ending with them making plans for her to drive to Vincennes that next weekend to pick him up.

Two days later, she took another phone call from him when she returned home from her last class of the day. To her surprise and delight, he had started walking the very next day after their initial conversation until he reached a chain hotel near the interstate. Tired and foot sore, he waited in the lobby, calling every half hour until he could make contact with her.

"I decided not to wait. Think you could come get me? I know it's a big inconvenience -"

"Oh, hush!" She replied, her heart racing over his admission that he couldn't wait to reunite with her. "It's a lot closer than Vincennes! I'll be there shortly."

Ten minutes later, she picked him up and drove him back to her apartment. Her black kitten, Uhura, immediately befriended him by nuzzling his hand when he held it out to her.

"Cat took that as a good sign," June added, taking a sip of her coffee to moisten her mouth. "If her kitten didn't make strange with Brownie, she figured she was safe."

"I take it that fuzzball didn't take well to most people," Alex mused.

"She was shy with strangers, so the fact that she accepted 'Brownie' without coaxing made an impact on Cat. I still don't understand how he fooled them both!"

Cat fixed a celebratory meal for them. Her generous nature made sure that 'Brownie's' appetite was well sated. They talked well past Cat's bedtime, catching up on the news they hadn't covered over the phone. 'Brownie' had picked up her guitar and played soft, soothing music as she related all the trials she'd endured up to the New Year and appeared genuinely shocked and sympathetic.

"Whew!" He whistled soundlessly, putting down her guitar and holding his arms out to her.

She snuggled next to him, finding peace and solace in his embrace.

"I'm sorry to hear of that, honey. And sorry I wasn't there for you."

"You're here now," she assured him. "That helps a lot."

"Don't worry, honey. I'll take care of things from now on," he promised, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. He started to explain the reason for his abrupt departure from Vincennes and the questionable circumstances surrounding it.

Cat refused to dig up that particular subject. "I never bought into all that negative talk about you. It seemed like everyone at the campus Christian Center turned against y'all when you weren't there to defend yourself. They tried to tell me y'all just used me for money and a vehicle, but I knew it wasn't true," she stated. "You always had a good reason for all the things you did. I trusted y'all then, and trust y'all now. It's in the past and stayin' there!"

"He slunk away like a thief in the night!" Alex growled. "She welcomed him back with open arms and an open heart and he shit on it! He didn't deserve her loyalty!"

"Don't forget that she eventually opened her check book to him," June admonished him. "Cory behaved like a perfect suitor, kind and loving during the first month of their reunion. He put her needs and wishes ahead of his, accompanying her to all the free entertainment on campus and every Friday night at the Indiana Theatre. He went to the personal appearances held by the radio station with her, letting himself be introduced as her boyfriend. He acted like he was proud to be seen with her so that Cat thought her fondest dream had come true and they'd have a future together."

"Unfortunately for my girl, that dream turned into a nightmare, didn't it?"

"Yes, as soon as she told him she'd received an inheritance from her grandmother. She never expected him to ask for her help with money issues like she had helped in Vincennes. She thought he'd changed for the better."

A few days after her revelation, 'Brownie' came to her with a plea for money. He'd not been able to find a job since he'd come to Terre Haute. He'd picked up a few day jobs that paid enough to keep him in cigarettes but little else.

"Honey, I'm in trouble," he announced, handing over an official looking envelope from the county prosecutor's office in Bloomington.

She gazed intently at him, trying to ignore the knot forming in the pit of her stomach. 'I've got a bad feelin' about this!' She withdrew the official looking letter from the envelope to learn that Cory had fallen into arrears on child support for his son. The fact that he had a child was no surprise. She'd known about the child, whom he affectionately referred to as 'Mouse' during their time together in Vincennes. She'd never seen the child, except for the pictures Cory kept in his wallet and had shown her.

"If I don't pay them by the end of the week, they're gonna lock me up," he informed her miserably. "I hate to ask -"

The amount he owed wasn't astronomical, but it was more than he could pay. The court had taken his chronic unemployment and the good paying job 'Mouse's' mother had into considering, ordering him to pay a minimal amount each month. He was more than two years in arrears and given a short period of time to make good on the monies the child had received from the county in lieu of his support.

Cat couldn't look him in the eye. She felt guilty that he was in such a predicament in the first place. She was also feeling guilty by a feeling of déjà vu that settled in her heart the minute he broached the subject. 'OK, it seems similar, but it's not the same. I told him what's in the past stays in the past. I can't go back on my word, and it's not like I don't have the means to help him,' she sternly admonished herself.

Cory watched her reaction with shrewd eyes, though his expression remained hopeful. As her silence stretched out between them, he allowed his shoulders to droop and his hopeful expression turn to dispair. He turned away from her and mumbled, "It's OK, honey. It's hard to ignore the ghosts of the past."

She walked up behind him and pressed her cheek to his back, drawing her arms around his waist. "I'll write a check to the county to cover the arrears. You'd do the same for me if you had the means."

He shuddered the moment her arms went around him. Her touch sickened him, but he usually endured it by reminding himself of his ultimate goal. He held his breath, hoping she wouldn't misconstrue his lack of control. He covered for it by feebly protesting, "But 'Mouse' isn't your responsibility!" He turned in her embrace, removing her arms from his waist and holding them away from him. He looked intently at her, his ice blue eyes filled with wounded male pride. 'C'mon and fall for it, fat ass!'

Cat accepted his reaction as shame at having to ask for her help. "No worries, Brownie. Let me do this for you," she begged. "You can repay me by findin' a job instead of worryin' about the 'Sword of Damocles hangin' over your head'!"

He smiled at her reference to the song from 'their' movie. "OK, you win. But they won't accept a check from you."

"Since when?" That didn't make sense to her and her suspicions floated to the surface again. 'Anyone owed money doesn't care who pays it, as long as they get paid, especially the county child support divisions in this state!'

'Brownie' was prepared to counter her objections. "It's gotta come from me, honey. Can't use a personal check. Cashier's check or money order," he explained.

She carefully mulled that over. His claim made sense. Personal checks had a bad habit of turning into rubber. "Then I'll go to the bank in the mornin' and have a cashier's check drawn from my account and have 'em drop it in the mail for us!"

Cory nodded, pretending to agree to her terms. Then his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Damn! Sorry, honey. That won't work either. A cashier's check has to come from my account or a family member's account on my behalf."

"Someone like a wife,' she observed dryly.

He grimaced at her remark. Marriage was a touchy subject with him. He'd once told her he'd had one bad experience with marriage and wasn't in a hurry to try again. What Cat didn't realize was that if he ever did marry again, he had no intention of marrying her.

Cat tried not to let him know his reaction had hurt her, but he was quick to catch on and 'comfort' her. "It's not that I don't love you, honey. It's just that I'm not ready to try that again!"

"I know," she assured him. "OK, plan B. I'll get a coupla money orders, and we'll pay 'em that way. Maybe add a little extra to give y'all some breathin' room."

Cory seemed to agree once again, but quickly smacked his head with the heel of his palm. "Oh, shit! You've got all those exams tomorrow!"

"Crap! Plus the mornin' drive show!"

They fell into a mutually miserable silence, then he brightened. "You'll just have to go to the bank now before it closes, honey. I'll go with you. Get the money out, give it to me, and I'll take care of everything tomorrow."

Cat considered insisting they go ahead and get the money order while they were out. Just about any 24 hour convenience store sold money orders! She drew breath to make the suggestion, then caught the pained look on his face. 'I'm hurtin' him with all these objections! I shouldn't have confided in him about the money if I'm not willin' to trust him!' She agreed with him and allowed him to drive her to the bank.

She wrote out a check for cash, but marked the memo line with 'Cory's child support payment' as a precaution. He'd opted to wait in the car for her, so he had no idea that she had taken out the insurance.

The cashier cast an inquiring glance at her when Cat presented the check. Cat met the teller's gaze with 'The Look'. The bank employee quickly counted out the bills, then placed them in an envelope, passing it and her driver's license back to her.

Cat returned to the car and climbed into the passenger seat. She sat staring straight ahead, wondering if she was doing the right thing.

"Everything go OK, honey?" He asked worriedly.

She wordlessly handed the envelope to him.

"Thanks honey," he sighed in relief. "You're a lifesaver!"

He surprised her by kissing her passionately, right there in the bank parking lot! Up to that moment, he'd engaged in hand holding, kissing her cheek, or putting an arm around her shoulders in public.

They didn't speak about the money again. 'Brownie' never told her if he'd completed the mission and Cat never asked. They fell into a routine where she went to work and class each day while he stayed at the apartment to arrange interviews.

After that event, they no longer spent evenings together. Most nights, he'd take off in the car for a temporary job as a bouncer or fill in musician for a local band. He always made sure to be back to the apartment in time for her to go to work.

One morning, about a month after she gave him the money, he didn't return with the car in time for her shift. She had no idea where he'd gone; he'd taken the keys off the hook and left while she was in the bathroom. She'd stayed awake until after the late night news, worried that something might have happened to him. She'd even called the state police post and the county sheriff to make sure her car hadn't been in an accident or impounded. Both law enforcement agencies had nothing to report, which relieved and distressed her.

She finally drifted off to a troubled sleep. The sound of her alarm startled her from it after what felt like a few minutes. Her fear and worry grew when she realized Cory was still AWOL. The house was quiet and dark as she prepared for her air shift and fed the cat. She waited as long as she could before she trudged to the radio station, hoping with each step that 'Brownie' would pull up alongside her. She wouldn't even have minded if he was full of apologies and a logical explanation for not coming home or calling.

Cat made it to the radio station just in time to load the music tapes, tear wire copy from the newswire for her first newscast, turn on the transmitter, and sign on. After the newscast, she called the law enforcement agencies to request a run down of the overnight call log. The dispatchers were sympathetic and read through the logs so she could have some local news for her next newscast.

She gave the 10AM station ID and turned the control room over to the mid day DJ with a sigh of relief. She considered skipping class and going home. She decided against it because the station was close to campus.

Her car was sitting in its' usual space on the street when she finally reached her house. The sight of her car annoyed her to no end. 'He knows my class schedule! Would it have killed him to come by and pick me up?'

She was grumpy, tired, foot sore, and had the beginnings of a major migraine. The car wasn't damaged, but there was a significant amount of new mileage on the odometer that didn't make her mood any better. 'He'd better have a damn good explanation for this,' she grumbled as she trudged up the stairs to the apartment.

Brownie was standing at the stove, frying fish for dinner. He looked up as she stormed into the house and slammed the door. The anger radiated from her and sent Uhura scampering for safety.

"Don't start in on me, woman!" He thundered.

"Could say the same to you, asshole!" She snapped. "Where in the Hell did you go last night and what the fuck was the big idea of leavin' me to walk in the dark to work?"

'Brownie' glared over his glasses, turned off the stove, and advanced menacingly towards her. "Just because you paid that money doesn't mean you own me!"

She glared unflinchingly back at him. "The least you coulda done was give me the common courtesy of a phone call to let me know y'all were OK or delayed! I had no idea whether you were dead or hurt!"

"Would it have mattered?"

"Right now, I'm not sure!" She raged, flinging her backpack onto the sofa. "Don't you ever do that to me again!"

Next thing she knew, he hauled off and backhanded her across the face. The force of the blow sent her stumbling backwards against the wall. The back of her head hit hard against the unyielding surface. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs and sent her sliding to the floor. She lay gasping for breath as Cory towered over her, his face contorted with hate and rage. He drew his foot back and connected with her side. Then he bent over her with a closed fist reared back over his shoulder, ready to fly. His fist hit her right between the eyes. The force of the blow knocked her out.

"Was that the event that nearly killed her?" Alex growled.

"No, honey," June assured him. "She came to a little later, took care of herself the best she could, and took precautions so she could rest that night."

"What? She didn't get herself checked out?" Alex's hands clenched into fists. He wanted to badly to beat the jackass. As far as he was concerned, there was no justification for the brutality of 'Brownie's' attack.

Cat awoke to the gentle rasp of Uhura's tongue on her cheek and opened her eyes to complete darkness. She felt sore all over. Her head and face hurt.

"Brownie?" Her voice was raspy and dry.

Silence met her query. Cat was lying on the floor where she'd fallen. 'What a guy!' she thought ruefully, struggling to her feet and fighting a surge of nausea.

"Mew?" Uhura queried.

"Yes, darlin'. I know you're hungry. Just give me a moment to find my land legs again," she assured the kitten.

She shuffled into the living room to check on her car. She was relieved to find the car wasn't missing along with 'Brownie'.

"Mew!" Uhura insisted, loudly proclaiming that her tummy was very empty and she'd been extremely patient.

"All right, you win!" Cat stumbled into the kitchen, grimacing at the congealed grease and fish in the pan on the stove. Another wave of nausea shuddered through her. "I don't suppose you'd settle for a bowl of milk?"

"Neyow!" Uhura protested.

Cat smiled indulgently and held her breath so she could properly feed her little girl. Uhura rubbed against her leg as she dished kibble and wet food in a bowl and mixed the concoction before setting it on the floor.

The kitten plunged her muzzle into the bowl, munching contentedly and purring in gratitude.

She stumbled to the bathroom, wincing when the light nearly blinded her. She winced again when she looked in the mirror. There was a red palm print on her cheek. Her lower lip was split and swelling. There was dried blood on her face from a cut his ring had inflicted and more dried blood under her nose. She thought about driving herself to the hospital, but was too tired to deal with going to the ER or the campus health center for a few bumps and bruises.

She cleaned up the signs of the struggle and Cory's dinner mess. Then she ran a hot bath and tried to relax in the steaming water. It helped alleviate the physical pain, relaxing her sore muscles. She took inventory of her injuries. Besides her face, there was a goose egg on the back of her head and a nasty bruise on her side.

Though she knew that 'Brownie' had a temper, he'd never shown a tendency towards violence around her, or towards her. It was the first time she'd ever seen him react violently to a confrontation. The fact that she had been the focus of that violence concerned her.

"I can't believe he attacked me for bein' upset! What the fuck did he expect me to do? Shrug away his complete lack of courtesy as no big deal?"

Uhura merely mewed and cocked her head to one side. She didn't understand what had happened, but she knew her person was upset. She followed Cat throughout the apartment, watching with curiosity when her person stuck one of the kitchen chairs under the door.

Cat laid the baseball bat on the floor next to the bed and crawled between the covers. Uhura curled up in a furry ball next to her, purring contentedly. Cat's mind was whirling and her body hurt. That made sleep a difficult commodity. She didn't question her own feelings of anger and betrayal. She had every right to be upset with him.

The previous night wasn't the first night he'd left her stranded with only shanksmare for transportation, but it was going to be the last. She made plans to call the landlord to have the locks changed, and to take the car to a dealership to have the door locks changed.

She eventually fell into an uneasy sleep that didn't seem to last long before the alarm went off. She struggled out of the bed, feeling sluggish and tired. She was close to exhausted by the time she fed Uhura and dressed. She wasn't willing to call off from her air shift, but would take a 'mental health day' from classes.

Alex grinned at June's revelation about Cat keeping her baseball bat handy the night she was beaten. 'That's my girl!' His mind conjured up the image of her storming across the street, baseball bat in hand, to confront him for staking out the coffee house before the grand opening. 'Some things never change!'

---

Sebastian coasted into his parents' driveway and parked his Harley. He crept to the storm cellar door that served as his private entrance to his basement apartment. His heart was racing and sweat was pouring down his face and back. He knew he had to pack as much as he could carry and get out of town before daylight.

'What to take? What to take?' he asked himself. He needed clothes, a bedroll, the essentials for being on the road. Money and a way to get more when he needed it. His whole life was in that room, and most of it would have to stay behind. He'd have to make arrangements to have the things he most wanted shipped to him.

'Shit. My folks! How can I tell them I'm leavin' town? It's too late to talk to them!"

His mind was in a whirl as he threw clothes into a duffel bag. He found a milk crate and stuffed as much into it as he could. The crate could be attached to the back of his bike with a bungee cord. He covered the top of the crate with plastic wrap so nothing would fly out and duct taped the edges of the wrap to the crate.

He rummaged through his desk for his bankbook and some withdrawal slips. He hoped to be able to use them to transfer funds in whatever town he decided to settle down in. Those were stuffed inside the duffel for safe keeping.

He sat at his desk, running his fingers through his hair. Then he took out some paper and wrote a note to his parents:

'Dear Mom and Dad,

Sorry to have to leave word for you like this; I made a bad choice and have to leave town, probably forever. I don't know where I'll go, probably east and south. It has to be someplace where SAMCRO doesn't have a charter.

I can't go into details now. You should be safe, but if anyone from the MC asks you about my whereabouts, you can honestly say that you have no idea where I've gone. Don't show this letter to them. Even though I've given you minimal information, it's best to act surprised when and if they come around.

I'll call you tonight from wherever I stop to rest. Don't worry.

I love you and I'm sorry for letting you down.

Sebastian"

He crept up the basement stairs and into the dark, silent kitchen. Moonlight shone through the window over the sink. A patch of light brightened the tile floor, making it easy for him to find his way around. He propped the letter against the bread box on the table where either of his parents would be sure to find it. He sighed and turned away, creeping silently back down the stairs.

He quickly loaded his bike, secured the milk crate and duffel bags to it, and donned his jacket and helmet. Then he climbed onto the bike and backed it down the driveway. Once the bike was on the street, he started the engine and roared off without a backward glance.

---

"Sounds like Cat was takin' steps to protect herself. Did she get a restrainin' order on the fucktard?"

"No, Alex. She didn't. God alone only knows why," June explained wearily.

"Ya need a break, sweetheart?" The concern in Alex's voice gave her a needed jolt of energy.

"No, hon. I'm fine. Y'all need to hear this, and I'd rather get it all out and not have it hauntin' me later."

"Lemme know if ya need a break, we can leave the line open and come back to it after a bit," he offered.

"That sounds doable," June replied gratefully. "I'll let y'all know when I need to take you up on it."

Cat's face was black and blue where she'd been struck. Her side where 'Brownie' had kicked her was just as discolored. It hurt to take deep breaths. If she remembered to take shallow inhales, her side didn't hurt as much. 'I doubt he broke anything, the pain would be worse if he had," she assured herself.

She wasn't much for makeup, but she had a little used compact in her medicine cabinet and used it to cover the worse of her bruises. There was nothing she could do to cover the abrasions, but the camouflage helped her appearance. An university hoodie would also help hide the damage. 'There's nothin' I can do to keep him outta here while I'm at work until the landlord changes the locks,' she observed ruefully, hefting the baseball bat in her hand as she left for work.

She realized her attempts to cover her injuries might not past muster while she was running her police beat. The duty officer at the police department kept staring at her while she poured over the overnight call log and inquired, "What'd you do to your lip, girl?"

She jotted notes while keeping her face turned away from him. "Just clumsy. Fell down the stairs this mornin'," she replied, forcing an air of chagrin into her voice.

The cop gazed intently at her. 'That cut's too old to have happened a little while ago. Somebody hit you, didn't they?' Though he knew she was lying, he couldn't force a confidence from her if she wasn't willing to give it. "Looks uncomfortable. Maybe you should carry a heavy flashlight next time," he offered.

"I'll keep that in mind," she muttered as she pocketed her notebook and left the duty cop's office. She managed to get through her air shift, despite the pain. It hurt to move but that pain was more manageable than the pain she felt whenever she had to talk. By the time the office and sales staff arrived at 8AM, she was in agony and knew she'd never make it through her classes. She sighed with relief when she made her last announcement of the day and turned the control board over to the mid day announcer. She managed to slip out of the station before any of her co - workers noticed and could comment on her injuries.

She drove home, anticipating nothing more than a good rest and a call to the landlord. She sighed wearily when she spotted Cory sitting on the front porch, waiting for her. He was wearing a leather motorcycle jacket she'd never seen before. It was looked quite new.

Another unwelcome sight was a brand new, gleaming black and chrome 900CC Yamaha motorcycle sitting on the street in front of her building. The beast boasted twin saddlebags, a trunk, fairing, windshield, and stereo system. 'I'll bet that cost me a pretty penny!' She thought irritably. 'Either he faked the child – support warrant or he's been in my stash to pay for it! Of course, my name won't appear on the frackin' title!'

Cory grimly eyed the baseball bat she carried to the entrance. He appeared stunned at the sight of her face. She'd removed the concealing make up on her way home from work. The bruises and cuts were a technicolor sight to behold, as was the angry red palm print on her cheek. "I can see why you think you need that weapon, honey," he observed quietly."I don't know what possessed me to hit you."

Cat leaned against the porch railing across from him, holding the bat across her chest in case it was needed. Her position also insured he wouldn't gain easy access to the front door "I don't know either, cowboy. But I do know it's not happenin' again!"

"Guess I deserved that," he sighed wearily.

"No argument from me!"

They stared at each other across the porch. Cat's eyes were ablaze with anger while Cory's expression was contrite behind the dark tinted glasses he wore. "You had every right to be upset with me," Cory spread his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I didn't tell you where I was going, and didn't call you. That was wrong."

"No shit, Sherlock!" She retorted curtly. "That wasn't the first time y'all have left me stranded. I can't count the number of times you've left me with nothin' but shanksmare as a means of transportation!"

"I know, honey. I'm sorry. What more can I say?"

"There's nothin' you can say that I'll believe. It's a vicious cycle with you; you always apologize and swear you'll never do it again and turn around to do the same damn thing. It's uncalled for and yesterday was the last straw!" She raged, pointing the bat towards the motorcycle. "Looks like you've fixed the transportation problem. How much did that set me back?"

"Damn, woman! Aren't you a bit concerned about where I slept last night?" he grinned sheepishly, hoping to steer her away from the question of the bike's cost.

"Figures you'd try to make light of this," she snarled. "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn where you spent the night!"

"You should," he replied, reaching slowly into his inner jacket pocket and just as slowly withdrawing a bulging legal size envelope. "I spent last night getting your money back." He held the envelope out to her.

She stared suspiciously at it, as if she expected it to turn into a snake and bite her. "What'd y'all do? Rob a bank?"

He shook his head and continued holding the envelope out to her. "I'll be honest with you, honey. I've not been workin' at bars and in a band to get smoke money."

Her eyebrow disappeared into her bangs. She began tapping the bat against her palm. "Y'know, I've asked two questions to which you've yet to provide an answer. Why all the dancin' around the facts, bud?"

"I've actually been hanging around this motorcycle club, doing odd jobs for them. The other night when I took the car, I made a run to Chicago and back for them. I'd just gotten home from the run when you walked in the door."

"So instead of tellin' me what went on, y'all acted like a bear with a thorn in its' paw and smacked me around," she observed sourly. "Why not just tell the truth instead of lashin' out?"

"You didn't give me much of a chance, honey," he replied.

"Like Hell! I had every right to expect an explanation. Instead, you warned me not to start somethin', then smacked me around like I'm a punching bag! You had plenty of opportunity to tell the truth, but you chose not to. Why?"

"I don't know!" He wailed piteously. He was frantic to make the situation right with her. If she shut him out, he'd never get what he'd worked so hard to obtain!

"That's bullshit! You knew I'd be ticked, and went on the offense from the start!" She pointed at her head with the butt of the bat, indicating the bruises and swelling. "Take a gander at the evidence!"

He closed his eyes against the force of her fury. "I can't, honey! It hurts me to look at what I did!" He tossed the envelope at her feet and buried his face in his hands.

"Try bein' on the receivin' end!"

He shook his head in denial and moaned through his hands, "Don't you realize I'd rather cut off my nuts than hurt you?"

"Lemme find a rusty bottle cap for y'all," she sneered, using the end of the bat to pull the envelope closer to her. She picked it up and opened it to find a brick of 20 dollar bills inside. She whistled soundlessly. "Y'all weren't kiddin'. This is outlaw money!"

"Don't know what you're getting all worked up about. It's no different than the money you made bootlegging booze." He retorted. He shook his head and mumbled, "I'm sorry! That was uncalled for. Look, I've got a chance to prospect the club, but I can't do it in a car."

"Good! Because y'all aren't drivin' my car anymore!"

His eyes glittered with anger at her pronouncement. She was deliberately goading him, pushing at the limits of his temper. He was tempted to give her another taste of the medicine he'd dished out the day before. He visibly struggled to control his temper.

His attempt to bring himself under control didn't fool Cat into relaxing her vigilance. If anything, his flash of temper made her more determined to determine just how false his feelings really were for her.

"I wasn't planning to use the car anymore. That's why I bought the bike with some of my pay. Now I can come and go as needed, and not worry you or leave you stranded."

"Y'all are talkin' like you're gonna continue stayin' here," she observed, hefting the envelope in one hand.

"Where else would I stay, honey?" He inquired. "I know we can work this out. It's just a minor slip!"

She let that comment pass unchallenged. Her attention was on the contents of the package. There was more than enough money to repay the child support and his other debts to her. She wasn't going to be greedy and keep it all, though she was sorely tempted. She counted out what was owed her, withdrew the wad of cash, and threw the packet back to him. "I'm goin' upstairs," she announced quietly.

He looked up with a hopeful expression, adding a shiver to prey on her sympathy. "It is pretty cold out here," he stated.

"You're gonna get a lot colder!" She growled.

"What do you mean, honey?"

"You're stayin' right out here until the cops arrive. Then y'all can come up and pack your stuff."

'Brownie' looked at her in surprise. "You can't be serious! It was just the one time!"

"One time is once too often, spud. I think it'd be better if we didn't live together for awhile. We need space, and I need time."

He got up, intending to close the physical distance between them. He believed that once he had her in his arms, he could mold her like putty, just as he usually did.

Cat pointed the baseball bat at him, much like Babe Ruth indicating where he was going to hit the ball. "Do – not – move!" She snarled.

He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "OK! OK! I get the message!" He resumed his perch on the cold concrete, withdrew a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.

Cat kept an eye on him as she unlocked the front door. Cory was quick, and he might try to rush her to gain entry to the warm foyer and ultimately to her apartment.

He remained seated on the concrete railing, his arms crossed over his chest. Cigarette smoke curled up towards the porch ceiling.

Cat slipped into the foyer and shut the door behind her, sighing with relief that he hadn't tried to bum rush her. She trudged up the stairs and walked into her apartment where Uhura waited at the door. She stroked the cat's head for a moment, then walked to the telephone.

"Terre Haute Police, how may I direct your call?"

"To dispatch."

After a short wait, she heard a voice announce, "Dispatch. How can I help you?"

"It's Cat Marshall. I need a car sent out to my place. Domestic violence."

"Are you OK?"

"No, but I'll live. No need for an ambulance. Fight happened last night, but I'm sendin' the bum packin'. Want to have an officer here to keep things from boilin' over."

"The day officer was wondering why you weren't very talkative," the dispatcher observed wryly. "The make up didn't fool him, but it was a nice try."

"Yeah, subterfuge was never my strong suit," she'd replied ruefully. The patrol car arrived a few minutes later. Two well muscled officers got out, making Cat almost feel sympathy for 'Brownie'. He was tall, but slight of build and wiry. He knew self defense moves, but the two cops outweighed him. She felt confident that they could handle him if Cory got out of line.

The two cops talked to them separately. Cat told the officer interviewing her everything that had happened during the previous 48 hours, ending with her regaining consciousness where she'd landed, alone except for the cat. The only thing she didn't share was his trip to Chicago.

"Only a coward would take off and not make an anonymous call for help from a payphone," the cop replied, shoving his notebook in his shirt pocket. "Do you want to press charges?"

She shook her head. She knew it would make a bad situation worse. Cory would consider that a betrayal. He had a bad habit of never forgetting a slight.

"Well, you've got the right to throw him out; it's just your name on the lease, and he's not your husband. He's got no legal right to stay."

"Glad y'all see it that way," she remarked.

Cory trudged into the apartment followed by the other officer. His expression indicated his officer had spelled out his lack of rights in the matter. He began collecting his gear and shoved it in his knapsack. Cat took Uhura into the bathroom and shut the door. The cops kept a silent vigil in the entry while Cory quickly gathered his belongings and hefted his knapsack onto his back. With the cops present, he wasn't able to try to persuade Cat to give him another chance. They kept their eyes on him so that he wasn't able to pack any of her possessions he felt entitled to, including the cash she'd removed from the envelope.

"We're leaving, Ms. Marshall!" The cop who'd interviewed Cory called out.

She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the entry. Uhura remained in the bathroom, cowering behind the commode. Her opinion of 'Brownie' had undergone a marked change after he'd battered her person.

"Can you have him turn out his pockets? I want him to give up any keys he might've made to my car and apartment."

He complied before they could ask him, dropping the keys onto the floor. He turned a hurt filled gaze on her, letting her see the tears running down his cheeks. "I'm really sorry, honey. Maybe someday -"

Cat turned away and walked into the living room. Uhura scampered after her and leapt onto the sofa, purring and treading before settling down in a furry ball.

Cory sighed and opened the door, followed by the police officers.

"Be sure to lock up after us," the one who'd interviewed her advised.

"Yeah," she sighed quietly, watching as the cop pulled the door shut behind him. She locked the door, then watched from the living room window as the two cops talked to Cory.

He mounted his new motorcycle as the cops stood on either side of it. He started the engine and gazed over his shoulder up at the window. Cat didn't back away from the window. She stood in the exact center, allowing him to look at her. She met his gaze with her own stony, determined one.

He turned his face forward, put the bike in gear, and slowly pulled away from the house.

The next day, Cat hired a cab to take her to the local Yamaha dealership. She wasn't ready for a Harley, though the dealer had several in stock. Her cousins had taught her to ride on a Yamaha, and that's what she felt most comfortable with.

Cat fell in love with a certain bike the minute she walked into the showroom. It was shiny and red. A 1981 Yamaha Seca 750, with factory built trunk and stereo system. It had electric start and was less than $3000. She paid cash on the spot and piloted it proudly out of the showroom. Though she hadn't ridden for awhile, it felt as natural as walking.

It was cold outside. Winter hadn't yet loosened it's grip. Cat couldn't resist riding her new acquisition all over town. She wanted to get familiar with the bike, and to let it get to know her. Her skin was wind burnt and numb by the time she got back to her apartment, but she was also exhilarated. The ride had done a lot to alleviate her depression over the situation with Cory.

She nearly made a U - turn in the middle of the intersection when she came to her street and spotted Cory's s own Yamaha parked in front of her car. The last thing she wanted to contend with at that moment were more fake apologies and wheedling from him. 'If I don't face him now, he'll just keep comin' back!'

She parked her bike a few feet from the back of her car and dismounted, opening the trunk to remove a cover she'd purchased to protect her new ride from the elements.

"What the fuck is this?" Cory grumbled, ambling over to where she was fussing with the bike.

She slowly worked her way around the bike so that it was between them. "What does it look like?" She retorted.

"Monkey see, monkey do," he snorted.

"Not hardly. Mine's red. Yours is black," she pointed out. "Yours is 150CCs more powerful than mine."

'Shit! I'm here to make things right, not antagonize her! Think fast!' Brownie admonished himself inwardly. He quickly searched for something nicer to say. "I didn't know you knew how to ride!" He exclaimed.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not repeatin' my history. Think about it awhile, maybe it'll might come back to you."

He snapped his fingers and cried, "That's right! Your cousins taught you on something similar!" He walked around the bike, looking at it from all angles. "It's nice. You sure you can handle somethin' that powerful?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the back of her car. She favored him with 'The Look'. Inside, she was tense and watchful, but she gave the appearance of being nothing more than annoyed by his presence.

"Relax, honey. I'm not going to touch you, unless you want me to," he assured her. There was a hopeful note in his voice, as if he were hoping she'd give him an such an invitation.

She continued to stare at him, unwilling to move in any way that he might misconstrue. She winced inwardly at the disappointment that crossed his features. She didn't like causing him emotional pain, but she wasn't ready to return to the way their relationship had been before he struck her. 'Frankly, I don't think I want to be with him anymore!'

"You changed all the locks," he announced forlornly, pointing over his shoulder at the apartment building.

"Can y'all blame me?" It had cost her but she considered it money well spent. The landlord not only changed the lock on her apartment, but the main entry as well. She'd had to pay for new keys for the other tenants.

"Don't you think you're over – reacting?" He asked forlornly.

"Obviously you think so. The apartment and my car are my refuges from Life's annoyances. I'm willin' to do whatever it takes to keep those places safe havens," she explained. 'No matter how much it hurts.'

'"But I didn't intend to hurt you!" He protested. She shrugged her shoulders, an evident non - verbal 'so what?'. "Listen, honey. I was scared and frightened that you were seriously hurt."

"But you did! To make things worse, y'all took off like a whipped cur and left me lyin' on the floor! Didn't even call an ambulance after I passed out!" She was furious just from recalling the incident. "Y'all took off like a whipped cur, leavin' me unconscious on the freakin' floor!" She snapped. "Hell, y'all didn't even call an ambulance!"

"Shit, woman! It's not like I could carry you to a more comfortable place!" He retorted hotly. "I'd break my back just trying to lift you!"

She stared in shock and anger at him. It was the first time he'd ever made her feel like she was overweight and a burden. The knowledge cut deeply. 'So now the truth comes out!' Cat thought tiredly. Somehow, it didn't come as a surprise to her to learn Brownie's' true feelings about her appearance."Gee, thanks! I know I'm not Miss America, but even an ugly duckling gets taken to the vet when it's sick!" She snarled.

His eyes bulged behind his dark glasses and he clamped his hand over his mouth as he realized his mistake. "Oh, shit! I'm sorry, honey!"

"You apologize easily, but I doubt y'all really mean it," she murmured, turning away from him and walking dejectedly to the building entrance.

"I do mean it!" He called after her. "Let me come upstairs with you and we'll talk it out."

She turned and stared at him. "No. Not now. Maybe not ever. Just go away, please." She turned her back and unlocked the door, shutting it behind her before he could run up behind her. She limped upstairs to the safety of her apartment, closed the door and double locked it. Then she walked to the living room so she could watch the street from the window.

She stood away from it so that 'Brownie' wouldn't be able to see her. Her view of the street was unobstructed. She watched Cory stand on the porch steps, shoulders slumped in dejection. He stood that way for a few minutes, then shuffled to his bike. He turned around to gaze imploringly up at her window. She knew he couldn't see her, but she took another step away just in case.

He stood gazing longingly at her apartment for several long minutes before turning to mount his bike. Cat watched as he slowly pulled away from the curb. She continued standing at the window, gazing out at the street without really seeing it after the sound of the motorcycle's engine had faded in the distance.

---

The fire burned brightly in the stone fireplace. Blue tipped orange flames flickered around and over the pile of logs in the center. Though it looked hot, the flames were only an illusion. The logs were ceramic and the roaring fire a product of modern technology. It was designed purely for show instead of functionality or comfort. Much as all the decor in Jacob Hale's home.

The man himself sat in an oversized leather recliner, legs stretched out towards the hearth. He held a crystal brandy snifter in one hand. The golden liquer in the glass glowed in the false light.

Hale stared into the dancing flames of his fake fire, but his eyes were seeing something else entirely. He was anticipating the phone call he would receive sometime in the next few hours announcing the end to the freeze on the Liberty Street project.

He mentally practiced the required reactions; saddness and sympathy for Lumpy's decision would be the prime responses that the public would remember. Inwardly he was like a cartoon villian, gleefully rubbing his hands in anticipation of ill gotten gain.

He smiled in grim satisfaction, swirling the liquer in the snifter, thinking of the war that would break out between the Oakland Mayans MC and SAMCRO once Lumpy signed over the deed to his property after claiming a member of the Mayans vandalized his gym. With Lumpy's close ties to the Charming club, Hale had no doubts that those hotheads would leap to defend his honor.

He glanced down at an email he'd printed. It was from Zobelle, though he'd used a different name. "I'm pleased with your progress, my friend," the email read. "SAMCRO will be decimated by the fighting. The club will become a mere ghost of its' former self. A figurehead at best. With SAMCRO no longer serving as an obstacle, you'll be able to lead Charming into the 21st Century! Well done, my good and faithful servant!"

Hale had no qualms about the methods Salazar would use to convince Feldstein to sell. As long as the old man got the message, that was all Hale cared about. 'Well, also as long as I'm not implicated in it in any way!' He smiled to himself. The money he'd paid Salazar was worth ending the freeze on the project. Lumpy's holdout was costing him a large amount of money, more than he'd given to Salazar.

Hale glanced up at the clock over the mantel, lifted the crystal goblet to his lips and downed the remainder of the brandy. He licked his lips, then picked up the remote control to the fireplace, turning off the pleasant glow with the press of a button.

The fire winked out, leaving nothing behind to show it had ever been alive. The logs were cold as the fire had been. It was clean and quick, much the way Hale preferred all things in his world.

He stood up from the recliner, stretched, and walked out of the den, carrying the printed email with him. He turned off the light switch, plunging the den into a blackness as dark as his soul.

---

"Good for Cat!" Alex crowed. His expression darkened as he realized something was missing to the story. "That didn't sound like a bad enough beating to have nearly killed her!"

"It wasn't," June admitted. "There's more to the story, if y'all aren't bored."

"Lay it on me, sweetheart."

"Lemme get somethin' to wet my whistle, and I'll be back," June promised.

"I'll go check on Cat, make sure she's a'right," Alex replied. He put the phone down on the chair next to him, stood up and stretched. Then he ambled across the hall to his wife's room. He slipped inside and strode to the side of the bed, watching her sleep for a moment. He stroked her hair a couple of times, then turned, walked back into the lounge, settled in the chair and placed the ear piece back in his ear. "Been waitin' long for me?"

"Nah. Y'all don't drink coffee, or anything else. Just rent it space. Had to relieve the bladder."

"While It's nice that ya made it gladder, that really was TMI!" He groaned.

"Do y'all want to hear the rest of the story?" June growled.

"Yes, ma'am!" Alex grinned.

"Then behave yourself! So, during the rest of the winter, Cat kept as much emotional and physical distance from Cory as possible. . ."

She worked, attended classes, visited her birth mother once a week, and rode her bike whenever weather permitted. She sometimes saw Cory riding his bike around town. He was the only rider she didn't acknowledge with a friendly 'thumbs up'.

Cory continued to try to win her back by sending long letters begging her for forgiveness and another chance. He left presents outside the apartment; small trinkets like a new record album or book, some treats and toys for Uhura, or something for the bike. He showed up for the Indiana Theatre Players Friday nights for Rocky Horror Picture Show.

After the movie, the group always retired to a 24 hour restaurant for an early breakfast or late dinner and hang out. Cory tagged along, somehow getting a seat next to Cat. He paid more attention to her than he gave to the rest of the group, much to her embarrassment.

She had no idea where Cory was staying and had no interest or desire to find out. The man who'd struck her was a far cry from the person she thought she'd known and loved. Cat wasn't sure she could trust him again.

Cory was persistent, and wore her down by saying all the right words and performing all the right deeds. By the time Spring Semester ended, he was a daily visitor to her apartment, though she didn't let him stay the night or have a key.

As the weather grew warmer, Cat rode the motorcycle more often. Whenever he could get away from his prospect duties, Cory would go with her. They'd take rides to Evansville or Indianapolis, and rode to Louisville for Derby weekend.

They didn't ride together often, and Cat found herself yearning for company on longer rides. The stereo helped to dispel some of the loneliness, as did the many charity rides she participated in. She began toying with the idea of finding other local female owner/riders to hang out with, but didn't say anything to Cory about it. He was insecure enough where the status of their relationship was concerned. She didn't want to make him feel guilty for not having more time to spend with her.

While 'Brownie' was enjoying his prospect period with the MC, he was frustrated by the lack of progress in regaining Cat's blind trust in him. His insecurity brought out a new facet of his personality that concerned her; a jealous streak. He began acting out whenever she spent time with other men, whether it was study partners, the men in the theatre group, or her co - workers. He barely tolerated the time she spent with her few female friends.

Cat tried to assure him he had nothing to worry about, but he refused to be placated. When his jealousy began causing friction at her workplace, she decided to allow him to move back in, hoping it would be proof that she wasn't looking for someone to replace him.

"She did what?" Alex couldn't believe his ears. Did June really say Cat had let him move back in with her?

"Just what I said, stud," June assured him. "Even a rock gets worn down when consistently hit with drops of water. From her point of view, it was the only clear choice."

"She coulda sent him packin' again! Taken out a restrainin' order or somethin' like that!" He argued.

"True. But at the time, she was thinkin' with her heart instead of her head. She thought if she relented, he'd go back to the man she thought he was, not the monster he turned out to be."

Alex snorted in disbelief.

"Remember, hun, deep down inside, she still loved him," June gently rebuked him. "She convinced herself that the beating had been an aberration and he wouldn't do it again.

Cory seemed happier and less insecure after he moved back in. He still spent most of his time with the MC, so they had little time to be together. She was lonely, as most of her friends were leery of Cory's behavior when he saw her with them. He'd been too rude to them in the past for them to trust him. It was easier to leave Cat alone than to brave one of his tantrums.

When the Summer Semester began, Cat put an advertisement in the campus daily paper. The ad ran for a week and requested responses be sent to a private mail box in care of the paper. She arranged with the classified department to pick up the responses when the ad ended. She set things up in that manner as she suspected 'Brownie' would be hurt to find out she was looking for riding partners. She figured that once he saw that she was riding with other women, he'd be supportive of it.

Unfortunately, she didn't plan for the possibility that he would find out from the campus newspaper itself. One of his duties as a prospect was to obtain copies of all the local papers, including the campus paper. Because there were so few female owner/riders in town, it wasn't hard for 'Brownie' to deduce that she had placed the ad.

The club Prez was impressed with her idea but 'Brownie' was embarrassed, and told her so in no uncertain terms when he caught up with her the day the ad came out.

"You don't need to ride with other people! That's what ya have me for!" He stormed around the living room, waving the paper in one hand and glaring accusingly at her. His tantrum sent Uhura scurrying to hide under the bed.

Cat bit back the response that rose to her lips. It wouldn't do her any good to point out that he wasn't readily available to go for rides with her.

Brownie didn't pay attention to her unusual silence. "Ya gotta realize the Prez doesn't want any other ridin' groups in town. There's enough as it is. He's old school, and definitely won't accept a bunch of women gettin' together to ride!"

"It's not like we're gonna be outlaws, for cryin' out loud!" She protested at last. "It's just some women gettin' together to ride and support each other! Christ on a crutch, y'all think way to much of yourselves to be afraid of a bunch of girls!"

"Are you deliberately trying to jeopardize my position in the club?" He pouted, deciding to try a different attack.

She shook her head. "Are you saying that what I do reflects on you?"

"Exactly! The Sergeant at Arms told me that your group is not an option. If you really loved me, you wouldn't argue about this."

He didn't directly say so, but she got the impression that he wouldn't get patched in if she continued with her plan. She relented and agreed to drop the idea, but she was annoyed. How could a group as large as the MC be intimidated by a bunch of female owner/riders banding together? The more she thought about it, the more it didn't make sense.

She finally decided to check into the validity of Cory's claim and try to ask the Prez directly. That wasn't going to be easy, as Cory had forbidden her to come to the clubhouse to visit or to call him there. He claimed it was because women weren't allowed at the clubhouse. That was another piece of the puzzle that didn't fit.

' If women aren't allowed at the clubhouse, why does he come home sometimes smellin' of some expensive perfume? It sure as shit isn't my brand on his skin! Where is he pickin' up that scent and why does he bring it home?'

Once he got his way, Cory returned to spending hours on end away from home, presumably at the clubhouse. He only returned long enough to change clothes, eat, and on very rare occasions, have sex with her.

Cat was actually happy with that arrangement, despite the ache of being left to her entertainment. Try as she might, she could never really relax around 'Brownie'. Most of the time she felt as if she were walking on eggs. She'd been on the receiving end of his physical temper and had experienced the emotional temper several times since their reconciliation. It was easier to let him have his way than to constantly battle with him.

This made Cory believe that he had Cat wrapped around his little finger. His campaign to restore their relationship had succeeded in less time than he'd anticipated. All he had to do was keep pretending that he wasn't ashamed of her appearance and he'd have what he wanted all along. He felt no shame in lying to her about women being barred from the clubhouse or lying about his feelings for her.

In reality, he feared that her appearance would jeopardize his becoming a full patched member. He hated the extra weight she carried and the coke bottom glasses she wore. In private, he thought of her as 'Chubbin's', 'Fat Four Eyed Bitch', and 'Lard Ass'. The patched members' old ladies were more pleasing to the eye than her.

The only reason Cory had worked so hard to move back in with her was to gain access to her bank account. He had known of her grandmother's death long before he'd first called her. He'd planned out his campaign and mentally prepared himself for the actions he'd have to do with her to gain her trust. His ultimate goal was to take her money from her.

Cat wasn't the first woman he'd treated in this manner, and she would not be the last. The beating had been an unfortunate obstacle in his path, but he'd been patient and now was back on track. Once he had her money and was a full patched member of the MC, he believed the world would be his oyster. He'd have everything he wanted in life, and not have to work for it. He forced himself to fuck her on occasion so she'd remain ensnared in his web. After each sexual encounter, once she was asleep, he'd rush out of bed and scrub himself raw in order to get rid of any trace of her from his body.

Once the charade was back on track, 'Brownie' continued to alienate her from other people so that she would become more emotionally dependent on him. After he moved back in, he would remind her how lucky she was to have him in her life with her friends abandoning her. He pointed out that they did so because they were ashamed to be seen with her. He injected hurtful comments about her appearance into every conversation they had. He'd then act as horrified by the slip as he had the day after the first beating. He would apologize profusely, claiming fatigue from his prospect duties.

Cat would forgive each transgression. She knew what it was like to be tired and grumpy. Between the demands on her time from her work, class load, and her mother's mental illness, she was also tired and short tempered. When she refused to be readily forgiving a particularly nasty verbal assault, 'Brownie' would do something extra nice to keep her tied to him. All he had to do was present her with a sentimental trinket or take her out for a long ride in the country and she'd forgive him.

As a result, Cory had every reason to believe that Cat would cancel the ad that had upset him. He never asked her about it, and since the paper came out one day a week, he didn't feel it neceessary to call the paper to ask.

Cat didn't cancel the ad. The following week, she stopped at the campus newspaper office to pick up any responses. She was pleased and surprised at the number of favorable responses.

Cat renewed her determination to talk one on one with the club president. She felt certain that once he knew what the group was all about, the club would be in favor of the idea. She wanted the Prez's blessing before the women met.

She took to riding her bike around town, hoping for a chance to speak to him without Cory's knowledge. The problem was that Cory's bike was usually parked anywhere the rest of the club was hanging out.

In the meantime, she participated in a few charity runs. The MC didn't participate in the rides, but did donate money to the causes. This enabled Cat to talk freely with the other riders. They all assured her that the MC wasn't bothered by their existence.

She was distressed to learn that 'Brownie' had lied to her about that. 'It makes me wonder whatelse he's lied about!' Another, more positive lesson learned from the charity rides was that all riders - outlaws or not - were bonded by their love of riding. They all respected one another, sharing information and giving the 'thumbs up' to approaching riders to show the way they were going was clear of hazards and wishing a good ride.

Showing respect to the other riders had opened many doors that would've otherwise been closed to her. She met several of the female owner/riders at the charity rides. They exchanged phone numbers and made plans to get together after Cat touched base with the MC.

Cat seethed inwardly knowing that 'Brownie' deliberately undermined her project and had tried to isolate her from the people she trusted. She knew she was taking a big risk in taking her case to the Prez behind Cory's back. She would have to watch her words as she didn't want to jeopardize his standing with the MC.

"As if he deserved that kind of respect!" Alex snorted in righteous indignation.

"That's how she is, hon. She's loyal to a fault, and it takes a lot to break that loyalty. Once it's broken, though, there's no repairing it."

"Seems like she gives too many second chances to certain people!" He complained.

"Be glad she does, bucko!" June snorted. "Y'all might someday find yourself in need of that generous nature."

Alex didn't agree, but he didn't belabor the issue. "Go on, sweetheart. Did she ever talk to the MC Prez?"

Lady Luck eventually decided to smile on Cat when she spied the clubs' bikes parked outside a bar her radio station sometimes used for events. She parked near them and leaned against the back of her bike, waiting for the club president to come out. Her patience was rewarded when the president and his SAA walked outside, blinking owlishly in the sunlight after being inside the darkened bar.

"Sir! Mr. President!" She called out as she waved at him. "May I speak with you a minute?"

The two officers looked at each other, grinned, and sauntered over to her. "Nice lookin' ride, darlin'," the President drawled.

"Thanks, sir," she replied. She knew that some men didn't like the idea of women owning their own bikes, believing women should settle for 'bitch' riding, sitting behind a man and letting him control the bike. She hoped the Prez and his SAA weren't like that. She gazed directly at the Prez and held out her hand.

His massive paw enfolded her hand in his as they shook hands and introduced themselves.

"You're 'Brownie's' old lady, aren't ya?" He inquired.

She was surprised the MC leader had referred to her as Brownie's 'old lady'. He didn't even refer to her as his girlfriend, much less his 'old lady'! "Um, yeah,sure," she replied unsteadily. "How'd y'all know?"

"Not a lotta wimmin have the balls to own their own big ride," the SAA explained. "Your old man's been cock of the walk about ya doin' so! He's always talkin' about how well ya handle that machine."

Cat didn't know how to react to that news. She was encouraged that he'd been singing her praises to the club, but couldn't help wishing he'd shared that praise with her instead of constantly putting her down.

"How come ya just didn't come out to the clubhouse to talk to me, darlin'?" The Prez, whose name was Ken Owen, added.

"Seemed a little impolite to barge in someplace that 'Brownie's' prospectin'. Figured there'd be time for that when he's fully patched."

Owen and his SAA exchanged another significant look, both unable to avoid noticing that she said 'when' instead of 'if' in relation to Cory's prospects at becoming a full member.

"She's good!" Owen murmured to his SAA.

"The boy's taught her well!" The SAA returned.

"Bull shit! 'Brownie' doesn't have that kind of finesse and ya know it!" Turning his attention back to her, the Prez added, "I see you're not afraid to approach us on your own. What gives with that?"

"I needed to share some information with y'all, but didn't wanna jeopardize 'Brownie's' chances. I figured there's nothin' to be lost in approachin' y'all with respect. What's the worst that could happen?" She shrugged.

"Ya don't wanna know, woman!" The SAA snarled.

The Prez deliberately placed his metal toed boot on the SAA's instep, making him yelp in pain. "When my right hand man remembers his manners, he'll introduce himself," Owen observed. "I'm a workin' man, darlin'. Just call me 'Ken', and I'll refer to ya as 'Cat'. Makes things easier for both of us without all that formal bullshit."

"I agree - Ken," she replied.

Ken glared at his SAA, who was hopping on one foot and massaging the other through his own boot. "Whaddya say to the lady?"

"I'm - Glen - Kimmel," the SAA stated through gritted teeth.

"He'll be a'right," Ken assured her. "So what can I do for you?" Though his appearance indicated otherwise, Ken Owen wasn't a stupid man. He knew she was covering for her boyfriend. 'Likely he's afraid we'll razz him about her looks!' Ken thought dryly. 'She's really not a bad lookin' chick. He's a dick if he can't see that' He made a mental note to have a serious talk with the prospect.

"I'd like to start an owner/rider group. Not a MC, mind y'all. It's just gonna be a few of us women gettin' together and ridin'." She pulled the sheath of responses out of her inner jacket pocket and handed them to Ken. "As y'all can see from the responses, it wouldn't be a really large group, but there's a 'little' interest."

Ken sifted through the slips, making a swift count of them before handing them back to her. "A little? Woman, there's enough interest here to equal my club!"

Cat slipped the responses back into her jacket pocket. "I guess that could be a problem," she observed quietly.

"Not to me," he replied, folding his arms across his chest. "But why should my opinion matter?"

"Heard that all y'all wouldn't tolerate another motorcycle group in town. Especially one full of females."

Kimmel quickly overcame the pain in his foot and narrowed his eyes. "Where'd ya hear somethin' like that?"

"Talked to a few men's groups during a recent charity ride," she replied.

"And they told ya we don't want other groups around?" He growled.

Cat shook her head. She was heading into dangerous waters and needed to be very careful not to tell the officers their own prospect had tried to dissuade her. "All of 'em said that all y'all don't object to enthusiasts gettin' together to ride."

"That's true," Ken mused, stroking his beard with one hand. "What bothers me is that someone would tell ya we'd be against an all female riders group!"

"So was I," Cat admitted. "I read Hunter S. Thompson's book about the Hell's Angels a few months ago when I was runnin' Sunday program tapes at the station. It gave me a lot of good insights into the lifestyle."

"Oh?" Kimmel intoned, his brows knitting together in a fierce scowl. "Like what?"

She wondered if she'd just stepped in a big pile of shit. "What I most understood is that ya'll have a strong feelin' of brotherhood for each other, and share an interest in ridin' of course."

The SAA's scowl became less intense. "Go on, woman. What else did ya get out of your research?"

Cat looked over at Ken, who nodded encouragingly. He didn't seem upset about her mention of the book. 'Hell, I don't know of any civilian that would read about the outlaw lifestyle just because it was interestin' to 'em!'

"Well, it didn't glamourize things, so I don't have some romantic notions about y'all! I also didn't see any rules against female riders forming their own group," she added.

Ken grinned in a feral manner. He liked her spunk and wasn't offended. The more time he spent in her company, the more impressed he became with her.

"Ah, shit! I'm sorry, guys! I didn't want y'all to think I had stars in my eyes about what and who you are. Didn't mean any offense," she added almost pleadingly.

"None taken, darlin'," Ken assured her.

"Yeah," Kimmel added, though there was a rough edge to his voice. "You're right about there bein' no written rule. Ain't no unwritten rule, either. Don't suppose ya know who told that lie, do ya?"

She shook her head. "Dude didn't give his name. Just seemed to know what he was talkin' about." G

len's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why the Hell didn't ya ask your old man about this instead of trackin' us down!"

'This should be interesting!' Ken thought. 'I wanna see how she handles this; it's obvious to me that she's protectin' him!'

"It's kinda hard to ask him when he's busy doin' prospect duties," Cat retorted.

"She's got ya there, brother!" Ken laughed.

"Kinda looks like it," Kimmel growled.

"So tell me more," Ken encouraged her.

Cat outlined the idea and displayed the club patch that one of the members, Ally, had drawn up of a black panther cub astride a large sized bike. "Naturally, we'd like to have some kind of jacket or riding vest to identify us. This patch would be in the center, along with our name."

"What would ya call the group?" He inquired.

"We're thinkin' of 'Cruisin' Kittens'," she announced.

He grinned appreciatively. "Everybody likes pussy, darlin'. A center patch like that won't be a problem. Nothin' else, though."

"Not even the state or city?"

Glen glared at her. "Ya might wanna re - read that book, darlin'."

She frowned a moment, then her face fell as she realized she'd made a major mistake. "Oh! Too much like an MC rocker, isn't it?"

"That's a'right, darlin'. You catch on quick. I like that. 'Brownie' made a good choice in ya."

She squirmed with discomfort. 'Wish 'Brownie' felt that way!'

"Contrary to whatever ya heard on the grave vine, I don't have a problem with 99 percenters havin' their own groups," Ken informed her. "As for your club outfit, leather jackets would be better," Ken added, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "I always think wimmin look hot in leather!"

Cat's lips twitched into a wide grin, "I'll be sure to tell the rest of the group that!"

Ken pulled a piece of paper out of his inner cut pocket and scrawled something across it before handing it to her. "That's my telephone number and the clubhouse number. Feel free to call if you need any help – or if any men hassle you gals."

"Even members of your own club?" She retorted with a grin.

"Especially members of my own club!" He affirmed. "I don't tolerate any man disrespectin' a woman, period. I definitely don't cotton to that bullshit of wimmin should only bitch ride. We've got your back."

Cat stuffed the paper in her wallet and secured it back in her inner jacket pocket. "I appreciate that," she stated.

"Good luck, Cat," Ken added as she saluted the two officers before turning to mount her bike. Just before she started the engine, Glen called out, ""Keep the shiny side up!"

Cat gave him a thumbs up, started the bike, and put it in gear. She pulled away from the curb, merging expertly with the crush of traffic. She couldn't help wondering if she should've asked the two officers not to say anything to Cory. 'Nah. That would've raised all kind of red flags. If they tell him, I'll just deal with the consequences when it comes up."

The two MC officers watched her ride away, admiring her handling of the powerful bike. Once she was out of sight, Kimmel turned to his Prez and inquired, "You want me to talk to 'Brownie' about this? Stevie Wonder could see that she was covering for him."

Ken shook his head. "Nah. I'll handle it. He needs to be reminded that one of our by laws is to never disrespect any woman, includin' your old lady."

"Gotta admire her loyalty to him," Kimmel observed.

"Do I? Maybe it's not loyalty."

Kimmel cast a quizzical eye on his Prez. "D'ya think he's tryin' to keep her under his thumb?"

"That's exactly what I think!" Owen growled. "If she's with a group of her own, he can't control her."

"What makes ya think that, boss?"

"Cat was watchin' our reactions the entire time, man. She was very quick to make amends for any perceived slights. Those are signs of a woman that doesn't wanna rock the boat, not because she doesn't wanna get her man in trouble, but because she knows what'll happen to her if he does get in trouble with us!"

Kimmel whistled soundlessly. "Not good. Yet, she came and talked to us anyway. That takes guts!"

When Ken later approached 'Brownie' about the women's group, the prospect disavowed any knowledge of it, except what had been in the campus paper. "Don't tell me she bothered ya about it, Ken! I told her it would be OK."

"Wasn't a bother, Prospect. My old lady owns her own bike and has an interest in joinin' your girl's group. Makes sense; I can't always be with my old lady when she rides; we all know there's safety in numbers." Ken was cool and collected on the outside, but he was internally steaming mad at the Prospect's evasiveness. "How come ya haven't brought her over so we can get to know her? She's a pretty cool broad, ya know."

'Brownie' turned beet red. "Well, y - yeah, I know, man! I'm l- livin' with her!" He sputtered. 'What the fuck am I gonna do to cover this? Damn that fat assed bitch anyway!'

"That still doesn't explain why you've never brought her around," Ken insisted. He was enjoying watching the Prospect squirm.

"Erm, it - it just didn't seem right, man. I'm just a prospect after all."

"Doesn't matter if you're a prospect or a full member. The old ladies of our men are always welcome here. Next time we have a party, you need to bring her along." Ken didn't think it was possible for a man to get as red in the face as 'Brownie' was becoming and not have a stroke. His eyes were like blue ice, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides. Ken could also tell that the prospect's respirations were accelerated.

He grinned and slapped 'Brownie' on the back. He started to walk away, then paused, looked back at the trembling prospect, and walked back to stand nearly nose to nose with him. " "You know, I just might take it to the table to adopt this group as a little sister of our MC."

"You mean as in 'property of'?" 'Brownie' choked.

"Hell, no! Just that they'd be affiliated with us, and enjoy our protection when they're ridin'. In fact, You and Kimmel are gonna ride backup for their first official group ride! Make 'em feel safe!"

'Brownie's' Adam's apple bobbed up and down his throat like a supercharged piston. "S - sure! Sure! Want me to tell her?"

"Nah," Ken shrugged. "I'll tell my old lady, and she can let your girl know. I already gave Cat my phone numbers, told her to call me whenever anyone, includin' club members, gives her group a hard time."

'Brownie' couldn't miss the implicit warning in the Prez' voice. If any harm came to Cat now, the club would be on her side instead of his. He'd have to walk a very fine line now if he had any hope of patching in.

Buoyed by the approval of the MC, Cat set up another meeting with the female owner/riders. They met at the student union to make plans. Cat shared what she'd learned with the other women. To her surprise, they weren't intimidated by the idea of having the MC on their side.

"It'll be nice not to get hassled all the time!" One of the riders, Helena, noted. "Frankly, I'm sick of getting BS from men whenever I'm out on my bike!"

"Me too," Mimi agreed.

The group elected Cat as President. A VP and Secretary – Treasurer were also selected. Ally, who'd designed the patch, offered to make the patches in the campus art department. They'd be available to be attached to their own jackets in time for their first group ride, which was to be held the following weekend. They opted to ride to Indianapolis, including a ceremonial ride around Monument Circle.

After the meeting, Juanita, the newly installed VP, asked to speak to Cat privately. "Guess I coulda saved you some time and effort. My old man's the MC Prez," she admitted. "With him behind us, we're likely to be considered 'little sisters' of the MC."

"That sounds like it could be a good thing," Cat observed.

"It will be. We won't be considered the MC's property. But they'll be lookin' out for us. When we travel, we'll travel under their protection."

Cat tried to look enthusiastic, but the thought of Cory being included on one of their rides dampened her spirits some. "That's real nice of your old man. It was probably just as well that I came out and talked to him. It's a show of respect to the MC, and he wasn't hard to talk to at all."

Juanita raised an eyebrow at Cat's retience over the MC's protection, but chose not to make an issue of it. "Ken has a lot of respect for you. Not a lot of women would have the balls to approach him like you did." Juanita narrowed her eyes and added, "Just make sure that's as far as it goes!"

"Believe me, y'all have nothin' to worry about. One over testosteroned male in my life is all I can handle!" Cat grinned.

When she returned home from the meeting, Cat immediately felt that something was wrong. The door to her apartment was locked, and Uhura met her at the door with a mew and a demand for a pat on the head.

Cat moved about her apartment, trying to determine why she felt uneasy. She eventually discovered that some of her marketable knickknacks were missing. The loss was distressing as there was no sign of forcible entry. 'Record albums have gone missin' lately, some of my books, now these trinkets. I've got a bad feelin' about this!'

She went to her desk and opened the bottom drawer, almost afraid of what she'd find. Everything appeared to be in order. The file folders were in their proper place, and the false bottom hadn't been disturbed, as the small piece of tape she'd secured to the edge was still in place. If she had investigated further, she'd have found out that her lock box, which contained her cash stash and her checking and savings account books had been tampered with several times.

'Dammit, I'm gettin' as paranoid as Mother!' She berated herself. 'Brownie' has no reason to steal from me, not with all the cash he's makin' from the club!' She felt she'd already proven that he only had to ask and she'd do what she could to help him when it was needed.

'Brownie' didn't say a word that night about her clandestine meeting with the club Prez and SAA. She'd feared his reaction when he found out she'd gone behind his back. But she wasn't pleased that he'd outright lied to her about the club's position on a civilian riding group. It made her more cautious around him than before, though he seemed oblivious to any change in her demeanor.

The 'Cruisin' Kittens' first outing went well. Though she was surprised that 'Brownie' was one of the riders the MC assigned to accompany them, she didn't say anything about it and made sure the two men were made to feel welcome.

All the women had some kind of weapon on them in order to heighten their sense of safety. Cat had visited the military surplus store during the week and purchased a hunting knife and holster. The holster attached to her belt, and was hidden from casual observation by her jacket.

The group headed out from the student union with Cat in the lead. 'Brownie' and Kimmel brought up the rear. The group hadn't even reached the city limits before 'Brownie's Yamaha began acting up. The engine revved dangerously high as he shifted gears, causing the bike to buck like a unbroken wild horse.

Cat heard the commotion and noticed the Yamaha's erractic behavior in her rear view. She signaled the group to pull over, parked her bike, and walked back to him. "What's wrong, babe?"

"Damn thing's all fouled up!" Cory explained irritably. "Dunno what's causin' it, but there's no way I can take it to Indy."

"Can you get it to a garage for repair?" Kimmel asked.

"Yeah, but it probably won't be fixed until Monday!"

"Get goin', then. I can watch the women," Kimmel advised him. "I'll tell the Prez. No worries, brother."

Cory nodded, started the bike, and lurched away from the group. The Yamaha continued to rev wildly as it jerked down the street. Cat's worried expression followed after him.

Kimmel put an avuncular arm around her shoulder. "Don't worry, darlin'! He's a good rider; he'll get it safely to the repair shop. Lemme call Ken and let him know your old man needs a ride back to the clubhouse, then we'll hit the road."

While Glen made his call from a nearby phone booth, Cat explained the situation to the Kittens. They agreed to continue with their run with one less man at their back.

---

Dr. Gallagher looked up as the door opened to his office, admitting Dr. DeSoto. He closed the door behind him and flopped into the chair opposite Gallagher, tossing the manila envelope on the desk.

"So you told him," Gallagher sighed, moving the large envelope to one side of the desk. He leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "How'd he take it?"

"Pretty well, all things considered," DeSoto replied, slouching in his own chair.

"Did he go demand answers from his wife?" Gallagher asked worriedly.

"Nope. He seemed pretty calm, especially after I planted the idea that she didn't tell him about those injuries because she feared for his safety. It really knocked him down a couple of pegs."

Gallagher looked up at the ceiling, his brows furrowed in thought. "You know, Mrs. Trager's best friend was a temporary employee here, just left earlier today after the assignment ended. I wouldn't be surprised if her husband is bending that gal's ear about now."

"Why do you think that?" DeSoto asked with a frown.

"I met Ms. Kruckle. She knew Mrs. Trager when she sustained those injuries. How do you think I knew about 'em?"

DeSoto shrugged. "Thought they might've showed up in the X - rays when she was first admitted."

"Just the fractures in the front; we didn't have much reason to do any of the back, where the worst injuries were. The current concussion is at the side of her head," Gallagher pointed out.

DeSoto nodded. "I remember handling a number of similar head injury cases when I was a LA Paramedic. That's what led me into neurology."

"I thought your name was familiar!" Gallagher exclaimed, sitting forward in his chair. "What was it like, pioneering a program like that?"

"Nerve racking when we first started out," DeSoto replied. "We had to pick up a RN to assist us on every run until the state passed the legislation that enabled us to work via radiophone link up."

"I imagine emergency medicine has really changed since then," Gallagher noted. "But your program really saved a lot of lives. What made you decide to become a neurologist?"

A brief flash of pain flared in DeSoto's eyes. He looked away from his colleague to the line of diplomas on the wall behind him. When he finally spoke, his voice had taken a far away quality, as if he were speaking of an event learned in history clas instead of something that happened to him.

"It with a run where everything that could go wrong, did. It was just before the new fire captains were announced. My partner and myself had both taken the tests and scored pretty high, so we felt certain we'd get promoted." DeSoto looked down at his clasped hands as he continued. "We were sent out on what sounded like a normal accident rescue. Two vehicles met head - on. Two drivers were injured. I recognized one of the cars right away. My wife, Joanne, was one of the injured."

"My God! What did you do?"

"What could I do? I did my job. Johnny and I, along with the engine crew, worked to get the victims out of the cars, then stabilized them. We took the injured to Rampart General. I was with Joanne, Johnny with the other driver."

"How badly injured was she?"

"Since this was long before airbags were even considered, it was pretty bad. She had head and chest injuries. She was unconscious the entire time we were working to get her out of the car. She never came out of the coma and eventually died of the injuries."

A heavy silence permeated the atmosphere between them. "Man, I'm sorry!" Gallagher stated at last.

"It's all right. It's been years. The kids were in school when it happened. Otherwise, it could've been a lot worse. The other guy was drunk, crossed the center line and slammed right into her car."

"I suppose he came out of it with minor injuries!" Gallagher snorted. It seemed to him that most drunk drivers sustained less serious injuries than their victims.

"He died en route to the hospital," DeSoto informed him. "So after I got promoted to station captain, I worked on getting my PH.D, then specialized in neurology. The kids graduated from college the same time I did. Then I moved to Stockton and set up practice."

"Did you ever remarry?"

DeSoto shook his head. "Never had time for that. I've dated some, but there's never been that spark like there was with Joanne."

Gallagher shuffled some papers around on his desk. It never ceased to amaze him the reasons men would go into medicine. Sometimes it was a call to service felt as a child, sometimes it was to make right an ailment or injury to a member of their family. Whatever the reason, sometimes it seemed like there were still too few to meet the needs of the many.

"Anyway, enough about the past. What do we intend to do about our present patient?" DeSoto inquired.

"I've been doing some research," Gallagher replied, passing a folder of print outs to the neurologist. "I think you might find these results of interest."

DeSoto shook away the ghosts of the past to concentrate on what he needed to do in the present. His patient needed his full attention, and he would settle for no less.

---

The television was on, but Ima wasn't interested in what was on the screen in front of them.

Kozik was lounging on the couch next to her, surfing channels and not finding anything worth watching. "Jesus Christ! All these years later, and Springsteen's song still makes sense, only there's more channels!"

"Which song is that, lover?"

"Fifty Seven Channels and Nothin's On'," he grinned. "Nowadays it's more like hundreds of channels and nothin's on. Can't believe people pay for this shit!"

Ima laughed outright. "Thanks to the government, we don't have much choice. There's not a lot to see on so - called 'free' TV, either. The only difference is that the local stations have more than one feed, usually some kind of network programming."

"Yeah, that usually winds up on cable," Kozik grunted.

"I kind of like the old family comedies like 'Happy Days'. Even though it's set in the fifties, you get a real sense of togetherness from the characters."

Kozik glanced at her out of the corner of one eye. "You like 'Happy Days'?"

"Well, sure! Don't you?"

"Shit, woman! I haven't watched that show since - " he was about to say since he was a kid, but thought better of it. " - well, it's been a few years. I suppose you have a crush on 'Da Fonz'!"

"Don't all the girls?"

"Hmpf!" Kozik pouted, shutting off the television and sitting with his arms crossed.

Ima snuggled up to him, nibbling his ear lobe. "Now, now! Don't be like that, lover!"

"Well, it's kinda frustratin' to have your woman admit to havin' a crush on another biker!" He huffed.

"I suppose so," she giggled. "Still, he kinda reminds me of you."

"Oh, yeah?" Kozik's chest puffed out in pride.

"Except you're better looking!"

Kozik's face lit up with a wide grin. "Now that's more like it!" He drew her against him, rewarding her with a deep kiss.

"Are you ever going to fill me in on the rift between you and Tig?" She asked a few minutes later.

"Aww, ya don't really wanna hear about that, do ya?"

Ima drew away from him just enough to gaze earnestly into his eyes. "Yes, I do. Guess I just want to understand what can come between brothers."

Kozik got up and walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, and twisted the cap from it. He threw the cap in the trash can and returned to the couch, taking a pull from the bottle as he did so. "It was over a pet dog. Tig really loved the gal, named her 'Missy'. We found her while on the road, and she took to Tig like a duck to water. I grew to love her too, but there was no doubt she was Tig's girl." He related the entire story of Missy's accidental demise to a very horrified Ima.

"Oh, lover! How can he believe you did that deliberately?"

"He was upset, nearly mad with grief. I guess it was easier to blame me than anything else," Kozik shrugged. "That dog meant the world to him, and when she died because of a stupid mistake I made, it tore him up. That's why I transferred to Tacoma."

"I'm so sorry, Kozik." Ima whispered softly, stroking the back of his hand with hers. "The loss of a pet that you love, even if you're not the owner, can be devastating."

Kozik drew her against him again and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Thanks, baby. That's why I'm surprised Tig trusted me to check in on his wife. He voted against my patchin' back in. Dunno what to make of that."

Ima thought for a moment. She didn't know Tig at all. His dark nature and reputation had always frightened her, and she'd had that crush on Jax. She did know one thing about the SAA; he cared a great deal for his woman. It was evident in the way he often talked about her with his brothers. She'd also seen the way Cat Marshall's eyes would light up whenever he was in the coffeehouse. "Maybe it's his way of seeing for himself that he can trust you again," she offered.

Kozik stared ahead of him, not really seeing the blank television screen, or anything else. "It's possible," he agreed at length. "Just seems so unlike him. Doesn't matter at this point; he didn't go to Belfast, and there's no longer any reason for him to be testin' me."

"He doesn't need to be beating up on you, either!" Ima huffed indignantly. The protective tone to Ima's voice made him smile and warmed him all over.

"Give him a little credit, baby. After all, I did challenge him, right in front of Lumpy and the prospects. He had no choice but to wipe the floor with me."

"He certainly did a good job of it!" She exclaimed. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

"Still a little tender in places, but I'm kinda used to that," he replied. "I could probably stand a little more of your great nursin', though."

---

The hospital room was dark. The only illumination came from the window in the door that allowed a small bit of light inside to pierce the darkness around him.

Alex relished the lack of light; it matched his mood. His head swam from the intel he'd learned that evening - not just from Dr. DeSoto, but from Cat's best friend. His long call with June had left him extremely upset over Cat's history with 'Brownie'. 'The fucktard better never show his face around here,' he thought as he stumbled across the hall to Cat's room. 'I'll do worse than kill him!'

He took several deep, cleansing breaths before he slipped inside. "She'll just get all upset if she finds out ya know about it," he cautioned himself. The breathing exercises helped him gain a tremulous control on his emotions. At least he'd be calm if he encountered an awake and alert wife.

Cat was still asleep when he entered the room. He was able to plug the iPhone and charger into the electric socket near her bed, put the phone on the bedside table, and settle down in the chair near the bed without disturbing her. 'She might get a little hissed off about the minutes used on that call if she checks. She prolly won't think about it, and it won't matter much to the budget. She loses more rollover minutes than she uses.'

His unfinished meal was still sitting on the bedside table, but he was too upset to eat. He buried his face in the mattress next to his wife's body, allowing the tears of pain and helplessness to flow at last. He wanted to avenge what had been done to her decades before they'd ever met. He sympathized with the pain of her recovery and determination to get her life back from the devastating injury the man she'd loved had inflicted on her.

As he cried, he marveled that his wife hadn't lost her generous spirit. She gave her time and talent to him and to the club without being asked and without question. He was still surprised that she hadn't developed a fear of men in general or men like him in particular as a result of her experience.

Cat sensed his distress in her sleep and struggled to come out from under the fog the pain pill had induced. She moved her hand over to his head, and began stroking his hair.

"Oh, damn, baby! I didn't mean to bother ya!" He cried softly, turning so that her hand was stroking his cheek.

"Y'all may be many things, love, but a bother to me is not one of 'em," she murmured softly. "Besides, I was goin' to get woken up eventually." She frowned to feel wet tears on his cheek. "What's wrong?"

"Nothin' baby," he applied a kiss to her palm and placed his hand over hers. "Least not anymore."

"Did the doctors tell y'all somethin' upsettin' that they didn't tell me?" She persisted, reaching out to the bed controls to raise her head to a position that would let her look at him in comfort.

"Nah. Woke up from a bad dream," he supplied casually.

She didn't quite believe him. Whenever he had bad dreams, he'd usually rise up in bed and shout. Very rarely would he shed tears. She decided not to press the issue. "It has been a rather stressful day," she agreed.

Alex was grateful that she didn't press him for an answer. He could see that she didn't believe him, but he was saved from any further questions by the arrival of a nursing aide with her dinner.

The aide stood in the doorway, holding the tray and fumbling for the light switch.

"Give me a second to get my glasses on before you turn on the light," Cat advised. She glared at Alex and promised dryly, added, "We'll continue this conversation later." She slid her glasses over her nose, then placed the tinted insert between her eyeball and her lens. "OK, lights on!"

The lights made the room seem overly bright to Alex. He blinked rapidly until his eyes adjusted while the aide walked across the room with the tray. She nodded a greeting to him and quietly set the tray of covered dishes on the rolling table.

"I know y'all checked her stats earlier, how's she doin'?" he asked quietly.

"BP was a little low, and she's got a degree of temperature," the aide replied. "That kind of thing isn't unusual given all the activity she's had today. It's probably nothing, but we'll monitor it awhile."

"Hey! Y'all don't hafta be talkin' about me in front of me!" Cat protested.

"Sorry, baby, just takin' inventory." He winked at the aide and added, "Thanks for the intel."

"Don't mention it," the aide replied, closing the door behind her.

"Ya really think you need the inserts? It's not that bright in here," Alex inquired.

"Maybe to you. Those lights are as bright as the sun to me!" She replied.

"I knew that," he muttered.

"Of course y'all did!" She laughed. "Y'all were just testin' me."

"And ya passed!" He laughed, enjoying the light teasing. It soothed the pain in his heart.

"As if y'all had any doubt. Care to join me?" She pointed to the meal she'd just uncovered. It was full of comfort food; meat loaf, mashed potatoes and peas. A small carton of milk was present instead of coffee, and there was plastic wrapped cup of gelatin for dessert.

"Nah. I've got my own meal right over here," he indicated his sandwich bag and cake box on the bedside table.

"Thought y'all ate that already?" She frowned.

"Started to, fell asleep," he shrugged.

"I accept that," she grinned. "It's happened to me a few times." She turned on the television to the local classifieds channel so they'd have background music.

They ate in companionable silence. Alex's appetite had returned, so he not only wolfed down his own meal, but some of hers as well. "Guess I was hungry," he remarked.

"Obviously," she replied archly. "That's OK, waste not, want not," she tipped her still full, but now cool latte at him in a salute. "I see y'all have some fresh injuries," she added, glaring at the marks on his face. "Care to tell me what happened?"

"Had another fight with Kozik at Lump's," he murmured in a tone of voice that suggested it wasn't much for her to worry about.

"I hope ol' 'Herman' looks worse!"

"He does," Alex assured her. "No major damage. Don't even need any bandages."

"I hope y'all washed your face at some point after!" She barked. "The last thing y'all need is an infection!"

"I did, Mom," he grinned.

"They look quite ghastly to me, but I'll take your word for it about Kozik. Did Lumpy mention he's comin' to Sabbath supper?"

"No, and I wish ya'd postpone it a week or two. That seems to be puttin' a lot on ya right outta the hospital!"

"But it's been awhile since we've been able to get together with him, and we kinda owe him one, anyway," she entreated.

Alex cocked a quizzical eyebrow at her. "He read about us in the paper. I assured him we wanted to tell him but circumstances got away from us. He understood, but he was still disappointed not to hear it straight from us. Besides, he misses us."

"Yeah, I got that impression today," Alex stated. "Kozik, me, and the prospects went out to see him. He had another visitor today about sellin'."

This time it was Cat's turn to raise an inquiring eyebrow. "They must be escalatin' for him to call y'all."

"Not that so much as who paid the visit. It was Darby."

"Darby? Isn't that kind of thing outside his experience?"

Alex shook his head. "Doesn't appear to be. He didn't really do anything to Lumpy, but he definitely left a threat hangin' in the air."

"I hope y'all are goin' back tonight to keep watch!" She exclaimed.

'Ya don't know how much that means to me, baby, but wild horses won't drag me away from here!' He shook his head and replied, "No, baby. That's what the prospects are for. Sebastian's there now."

Cat's heart sank. Of the three prospects, she had very little faith in Sebastian. Not after her staff had told her of his behavior at the coffeehouse and the dressing down Chibs had given him.

"What's wrong, baby?" Alex couldn't ignore her look of consternation.

"Far be it for me to question a club decision, I just wish you'd given the job to Phil or Miles. Sebastian gives me a bad feelin'."

"He's gotta learn sometime, baby. It's not like I had a lot of choice. We need Phil and Miles at the garage; Sebastian is about as useful there as a left handed torque wrench to a man with only a right hand."

"That's not very helpful," Cat remarked.

"My point."

The nurse came in to check her vital signs and give her the night time meds, which included the anti – anxiety medicine and another pain pill. "Can't I skip the pain pill? I'm not hurtin' that much. Maybe a 4."

"Then you need the pain pill," the nurse insisted, handing over the cup of pills and standing next to the bed trying to stare Cat down.

"Good luck gettin' her to agree, nurse," Alex laughed. "She's stubborn!"

"So am I. And I've got doctor's orders backing me!"

"But if I don't have pain, why take the pill?" Cat argued. "

I'm gonna make a phone call outside," Alex stated. "I really wish ya'd go along with the program, baby. You'll feel better, and I'll feel better," he added, striding from the room while digging the pre - pay out of his pocket.

"Y'all don't fool me!" She hissed at his retreating back. "You just want to play 'United Nations' while I'm doped up and can't defend myself!"

"Damn straight!" He countered, letting the door close behind him before she could reply. He leaned against wall outside the room and called Kozik. "Did ya check in on the prospect?" He asked the moment Kozik answered.

"Yeah. He sounded OK. Said he's been handlin' the gun, getting' more familiar with it, did a couple of rounds in and outside the building. Sounded less uncertain. He's good."

"He better be," Tig growled. "I'm at St. Thomas."

"How's Cat?" "Improvin'. Keep me posted. Call me if anything happens."

He shut off the phone before Kozik could respond, satisfied that he wouldn't need to go back out to the gym after all.

The nurse stepped out into the hall, shaking her head and smiling slightly.

"My girl give ya any trouble?" "No," the nurse grinned. "She just has a unique perspective on hospitals! She's taking a sponge bath, so if you don't mind waiting out here – "

"Are you kiddin'? That's my wife in there! Think I ain't seen her nekkid before?" Alex asked incredulously.

"I'm sure you have, but –"

"No buts. Let the aide help someone else. I can handle her, wet or dry!" He grinned cockily and slipped past her into the room.

The sounds of water running in the bathroom sink turned his smiled into a lecherous leer. He considered slipping inside to watch and see what else would develop, but didn't trust an aide not to walk in at the wrong moment. Sighing in resignation at the missed opportunity, he opened the door the rest of the way and leaned against the door frame to watch her.

"Y'know, this ain't exactly a spectator sport!" She huffed.

"I ain't compliainin'," he countered.

She tossed a towel at him, which he caught easily in one hand. "Here, y'all can make yourself useful as well as ornamental!"

"As a towel rack?"

She wrung out the washcloth and hung it in the shower to dry. Then she turned and held her arms away from her body. "No, I figured y'all might want to get me dried off."

"I accept that, but I'd rather get you wet and hot," he growled, gathering her up in the oversized towel.

"One track mind," she replied with a reluctant grin.

"Just shows I'm a healthy male!" He rubbed her briskly with the towel, noticing that she was already shivering with cold. He wrapped the towel around her and led her out of the bathroom. "They got any clean stuff for ya to wear?"

She pointed to the closet where her street clothes were stored. "In the drawer on the bottom," she instructed.

He opened the closet and reached into the drawer, withdrawing a hospital gown. "Need help tyin' the back?" He asked, waggling his eyebrows.

"I can manage," she retorted. "Lord only knows what kinda mischief y'all would get into if I turned my bare back to you."

He pouted and slumped into the chair, stretching his legs out before him. "You can be a real spoilsport sometimes!"

"Y'all will appreciate me better when we're home and won't get interrupted," she replied, stepping over his legs and crawling back into bed. She sighed with relief to get under the sheet and blanket, still warm with her body heat. "Dammit! Don't know why they have to keep this joint so cold!"

"Don't worry, you'll be warm enough soon," Alex grunted as he removed his cuffs, rings, and knife holster. He placed them in the clothes closet along with his cut.

"There's an extra pillow and blanket up on the top shelf," she offered. "And you'll be pleased to know I took the fuckin' pill! It's the only way that witch would let me take a sponge bath!"

"I knew you'd see reason!" He grinned, taking down the bed items and tossing them to the chair. He removed his boots and placed them beside the closet, then crawled onto the bed beside her. He covered them both with the blanket.

Cat turned onto her side and snuggled contentedly against him, resting her head on his chest. "Y'all never said what the dream was about, love. Care to tell me?"

"I would if I could remember it," he suavely fibbed. "Been awake too long."

She yawned and closed her eyes. "True dat," she murmured. "Feel free to watch whatever y'all want; doubt it'll bother me," she added.

"You're not sleepin' in your glasses, baby!" He announced, reaching across her body to the bed controls. He'd turned off the overhead light, but the one behind the bed was still on. He removed her glasses and the tinted insert and placed them on the bedside table. Then Alex placed his hand under her chin and tilted her head up. "Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! Don't think you're gettin' out of givin' me a good night kiss!" He studied her face for a moment, noticing for the first time that one eye socket was indeed just a little bit higher than the other, a souvenir from her near death experience. He pressed his lips to hers, wishing again that they were in the privacy of their own home. It wouldn't bother him to be caught in the act, but he knew his wife would be embarrassed. That didn't stop his cock from making its' presence known.

"If I were only a little more darin', love," she sighed wearily. "'Cause I miss y'all, too."

"It's a'right, baby. We'll have plenty of time for fun later," he promised. He held her until she fell asleep, listening to her deep, even breathing.

The television remained on the local ad channel, the music from the local rock station played softly in the background, providing a back drop to his thoughts.

Cat turned to her other side in her sleep, allowing him to spoon with her back tucked against his front. He was terrified and totally erect. He tightened his embrace as if that act alone would keep her safe from harm. His head whirled with images of her horrible past until he finally fell into an exhausted slumber.

---

In a private residence a few miles from Ima's apartment, another household was winding down for the night. The bedroom was aglow with soft light from shaded bedside lamps. The television in front of the bed was tuned to a 24 hours cable news outlet, broadcasting the latest overseas atrocity man had committed against man. The volume on the television was muted as June Stahl relaxed on the bed, waiting for her lover to get out of the bathroom so she could shower. Her cell phone buzzed on the table next to her, and she glared at it momentarily. 'Just once I'd like to have an evening free of that infernal thing!' She grumbled.

She picked up the phone, glancing at the caller ID with a frown. There was a telephone number showing that was US in configuration but showed an Ireland origination. It was possible that Jax Teller might be calling, but her greeting was cautious, just in case it was someone else. The voice on the other end belonged to Jax Teller, and she lost no time brusquely informeing him that Gemma's stunt was piling more charges on her dossier and could jeopardize their deal.

'Yeah, you'd like that, bitch!' Jax thought to himself. He struggled to keep his voice neutral. Antagonizing Stahl at this stage of the plan would give him only a temporary satisfaction, and do nothing to bring the club closer to the desired end result. For once, his temper obeyed him and he ignored the Fed's taunt. Instead, he requested any and all intel she could get for him about Father Kellan Ashby.

June rose from the bed, pacing the small section of floor between the bed and dresser in agitation during her conversation with Jax. The name sounded familiar to her, then she realized why when Jax mentioned he was an IRA shot caller and at odds with Jimmy O.

Tyler had completed her nightly routine in the bathroom while Stahl was otherwise engaged. She'd started to open the door when she heard Stahl's voice and realized from the hushed conversation that her lover was up to something again.

Tyler stood silent in the doorway to the bathroom, watching her lover back and listening intently to Stahl's side of the conversation. She didn't like what she heard, especially when Stahl mentioned that there was no deal without Jimmy O. being returned to the US alive.

Stahl continued her animated conversation with Jax, not realizing that Tyler was listening in until she got a glimpse of Tyler in the glass covering a picture over the bed. She immediately changed the tone and volume of her voice to make it seem like she was talking to a colleague and abruptly ended the call.

Stahl placed her cell on the bureau and turned to address her lover, assuring Tyler the call was completely work related. Stahl slid next to her lover's body, bussing Tyler's cheek with her lips before continuing into the bathroom and closing the door firmly against Tyler's butt.

Tyler didn't move until she heard the reassuring sound of running water in the shower. Then she stepped over to the bureau and picked up Stahl's phone. She accessed the call log and gazed at the last call received. She repeated it to herself until she had it memorized. 'I'll have that traced in the morning. I hope it's nothing, but I can't be certain anymore.'

Stahl reached into the shower to turn the water on. She waited until she was certain Tyler had moved away from the door before she approached it and cracked it open. A strategically hung mirror on the opposite wall gave Stahl a complete view of the bureau where she'd set her phone. Her lips formed a thin line of distaste as she watched her lover pick up the phone and gaze for several moments at what Stahl knew was the received calls log.

She had deliberately chosen not to delete the number as a test. Tyler had just failed miserably. Stahl soundlessly closed the door to the bahtroom, disrobed, and stepped into the shower.

Between the exhaust fan and the running water, there was enough noise to mask the sounds of her sobs over the impending loss of her lover. 'I don't want to do this, but there's no choice. It's either her or me, and I've come too far to allow anything or anyone to ruin it now!'

---

The 'Cruisin' Kittens' encountered no other problems after 'Brownie's' bike trouble. They traveled along US 40 to the state capitol and rode around Monument Circle. Downtown Indianapolis was a complete ghost town. Only a few stores were open; there were no movie theatres, restaurants, or decent bars to visit. There weren't even any riders hanging around the Circle, though a few teens shouted and waved encouragement at them from their cars.

They made a stop for gas and a rest room break on the way back home. That was when Glen invited them to a party at the clubhouse. "We're gonna officially adopt ya as a sister club," he added triumphantly.

Some of the women frowned at his announcement as they weren't familiar with biker slang. Cat hastily informed them being a sister club was a positive thing, and didn't mean they were the club's property.

"It better not!" Helena hissed, glaring at Glen.

"Relax," Cat admonished her. "It means we'll continue to enjoy protection from the guys. It doesn't mean we're required to give 'em any sexual favors."

"Unless one of ya finds a guy interestin' and nature takes its' course!" Glen added with a sly grin.

A couple of the 'kittens' hooted derisively. "Yeah, right!" Helena drawled.

"OK, kittens! Play nice!" Cat admonished them, giving them the signal to mount up. "Looks like we've got ourselves a party to go to, and I'm sure none of us wanna show up covered in road dust!"

As soon as the 'Cruisin' Kittens' and the MC's SAA were no longer visible in his rear view mirror, 'Brownie's' engine miraculously quit misfiring. He glided towards the dealership, smiling triumphantly over his success.

Not only did the ruse get him out of riding with the women, it would give him plenty of time to spend quality time with his real girlfriend. It still annoyed him that the Prez had ordered him not to punish Cat for disobeying him.

Any other time, he would've inflicted punishment where they would do him the most good and not be visible. After the Prez placed her under his protection, 'Brownie' knew better than injure her in any way. It would jeopardize his patching for Ken would be all over him like flies on horseshit.

He grinned evilly in recalling how tentative Cat had been that evening when he came home. Silence had been golden that night. He'd actually gotten off watching her wait for his reaction.

By that time, he'd been channeling his energy in more lucrative ways. He'd forged a marriage license, complete with a forgery of her signature and a local minister's signature. It was on file with the county clerk's office if anyone wanted to look at it. He'd worried that someone might see the published record in the local paper and congratulate Cat on her marriage, but no one had paid any attention to it, including the fat, ugly bitch herself!

Armed with that forgery and her social security number, Cory had gone to the local bank where the majority of her inheritance was deposited to have his name added to the account. The bank hadn't asked once to speak to her to confirm the change! The next day, he began making small, systematic withdrawals. He used his own checking and savings account books, submitting a change of address so the monthly statements were sent to a rented PO Box.

Unfortunately, the out of town banks hadn't been as receptive. He'd taken the same documentation to those banks, but they had insisted that Cat be present to approve the changes. That had annoyed him, but the balances wasn't worth the time it would take to pursue. Brownie now had plenty of money between his income from the club and the money he'd taken from Cat.

Now that he had most of her money and a woman who was everything Cat wasn't, he wanted to get her out of the way so he could enjoy the fruits of his labor, and set up the new woman for the same fall. 'At least I can enjoy myself physically with this one! No blubber flapping around whenever we fuck. She's pretty, slim, and young. Believes everything I tell her and does everything I say without question. Cat's too fucking independent. That slapdown didn't tame her at all!"

He hated vandalizing his own bike, but it was necessary to maintain the ruse he'd used to get away from the women's group. He stopped at a chain grocery store, bought a box of sugar, then rode on to the repair shop. He stopped a block away, poured the sugar in the gas tank, started the bike, and managed to reach the shop before it quit.

"Man, that sucks!" Ken growled when Cory told him about the bike. Ken had personally driven his truck to the repair shop to pick up the biker. "Who the fuck would do such a thing?"

"Someone with a grudge against the club would be my guess," 'Brownie' shrugged.

Ken glanced out the side of his eye at the prospect. He'd been getting bad vibes ever since Cat Marshall had sought him out. 'Brownie's' comment increased his unease. 'We don't have any enemies that would do that kind of thing. Just what are you up to, prospect?' He had a feeling that patching him in would not be a good thing for the club.

"Sorry to hear that. How long is your ride gonna be outta commission?" Ken asked, returning his attention to the road.

"Middle of next week. Can you drop me off at the apartment? I'm going to file an insurance claim. Would rather do that from home instead of the clubhouse."

"Sure. You need a ride to the party tonight?"

"Nah. I'll have Cat drop me off," 'Brownie' replied expansively.

Ken nearly jumped in his seat, but managed to keep his body language from giving him away. "Did ya forget the 'Kittens' are comin' to the party?"

'Brownie's' face turned red over his verbal slip. "Yeah. I meant I'd ride in with her. She's really looking forward to it."

'That's bullshit! Glen's givin' the invite during the ride. Unless you told your old lady, she doesn't know a damn thing about it yet!' The MC Prez tucked that item away for future reference and remained silent during the remainder of the ride.

As they turned onto the street where Cat's apartment was located, he noticed a strange car parked directly behind her Plymouth Satellite. A hot looking babe sat in the driver's seat. "Anyone you know?"

'Brownie' shrugged. "Probably one of Cat's out of town friends." He slid out of the truck and shut the door, waving a casual goodbye to the Prez. "See ya tonight."

Ken rolled slowly away, glancing back in his rear view mirror as 'Brownie' advanced to the driver's door of the little sportster.

The woman behind the wheel of the sportster smiled brightly at him. "Who was that guy?"

"No one that matters, baby," Cory replied, leaning on the door frame and smiling down at her. He watched the slowly retreating pick up through his peripheral vision. It looked like the Prez was concentrating on the road ahead, so he leaned into the sportster to plant a passionate kiss on his woman.

Ken frowned at the scene unfolding behind him. He could see in the rear view without turning his head to it, and witnessed 'Brownie' kiss the sportster's driver. It looked like a very passionate kiss, not the peck on the cheek one would expect an old lady's girlfriend to get.

"Wow! That's quite a greeting!" The girl laughed shakily when Cory released her from the kiss. "I think you reactivated my tonsils!"

Cory smacked his lips. "That's not all I intend to reactivate, baby!" He opened the door for her, taking her hand to lead her to the apartment door.

"Isn't your sister going to be home soon?" The girl asked, stopping in front of the porch steps.

"Nah. She and a bunch of other biker chicks are on a ride to Naptown. Won't be back for hours. We have the house to ourselves - except for the cat."

"I hate that animal! It gives me the creeps!"

"It won't be much longer, baby. Soon I'll have a place of my own and we won't have to worry about roommates and pets. As long as Sis doesn't mind us usin' the place, why should you?"

"I just hate using her bed," the girl pouted. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. Why don't we go to my place for once?"

Cory was torn between bedding his woman in Cat's bed - something he enjoyed immensely because it was another way to show his contempt for her - or fucking her for hours in her own bed.

'Maybe I should check out her place; make sure it'll fit my needs in case I need a place to hole up,' he advised himself, gazing at his woman's adorable pout just begging for his kiss. "How can I say no when you look like that?" He grinned, throwing his arm around her waist and leading her back to the passenger side of the sportster. "I'll drive."

The 'Cruisin' Kittens' roared back into Terre Haute, stopping at the student union for a wrap up meeting. They agreed to arrive at the MC's clubhouse at 8pm, when the patch party would be in full swing.

As the majority of the group rode off to get ready for the party. Juanita caught Glen's signal and remained behind. They intended to talk to Cat about the earlier separation between her and the prospect.

"So how's everything between you and 'Brownie' these days?" Juanita casually asked.

Cat shrugged. "Pretty good I suppose."

Glen snorted. "C'mon, Cat. We're family. If you can't level with us, who the fuck are ya gonna be straight with?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" She hissed defensively.

"Would you quit runnin' interference for the fucker? Ken and I know somethin's not right. If they were, you'd never had needed to seek us out about the women's group!"

Before Cat could reply, Juanita added, "He forbade you to set up the group in the first place. What changed your mind?"

"I talked to some other riders, veteran bikers and the like. They all said the MC wasn't against non outlaw ridin' clubs. Lots of 'em had patches like ours," Cat admitted. "I wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth, so to speak."

"I thought so!" Kimmel snarled. "It didn't make sense that your old man wouldn't have told ya that himself, unless he wasn't tellin' the truth. Just like that breakdown his bike had today."

"Looked pretty real to me!" Cat retorted.

"You're smarter than that, girl! That bike's still new, barely broken in! No reason for it to fail this soon unless he made it fail!"

"You sayin' he did somethin' to his engine to make it act that way?"

"I'm sayin' it's suspicious. It worked fine until we hit the city limits, then it suddenly starts revvin' and backfirin'? No way!" Glen explained vehemently.

"Why bring this up now?" Cat retorted, leaning against her bike and glaring at the pair.

"Because I know things aren't what they seem to be with him, and because his prospect period is up!" Glen exploded.

"Seems to me it's a little too late to hold a come to Jesus meetin' about him!"

Juanita stepped up to Cat's face so that they were nose to nose with each other. She found it difficult to keep her eyes from crossing. "Listen, sweetheart. Loyalty to your man is a good thing, and I admire you for that," Juanita growled. "But I think it's misplaced."

"Why do you say that?"

"Look, we know you kicked 'Brownie' out a few months ago. He stayed at the clubhouse until you let him move back in," Juanita pointed out. "Why the long separation if he's such a prize?"

Cat stared at Juanita, then at Glen. The SAA stood with his arms folded across his chest, meeting her questioning gaze. "We wouldn't ask if we didn't care about you. You've been straight up with us from the very first. Unlike your old man, you've earned our loyalty and protection."

"Don't be ashamed that he beat you up all those months ago. You did the right thing in showin' him the door," Juanita added softly.

Cat's eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know?"

"We didn't," Kimmel replied. "Until just now."

"Y'all reeled me in hook, line, and sinker!" Cat sighed. "Fine! It happened when he took my car on that Chicago run. He left me stranded; had to walk to work in the dark. He lit into me when I confronted him about it and fled when he knocked me out. The cops helped him move his stuff out."

Glen's hands clenched into fists. His arms were still crossed over his chest, so his reaction was hidden from her. 'That lyin' sack of shit! He said she had the day off from her job and classes! If I'd known, we'd have found another car for him to use!'

Juanita could tell from Glen's body language that he was righteously pissed. She shared the sentiment. 'The Haute's not the crime capital of the world, but it's not safe for a woman to walk that far in the dark! How could a man who claims to love a woman leave her in such a situation?'

The idea occurred to her that it was very easy when the man didn't give a shit about the woman in question. 'He's using her for some reason! That's why he did that!' She exchanged a significant look with the SAA. "Relax, Glen. There's nothin' you or Ken can do about that now."

"Look, as far the Chicago thing, he was tired and I shoulda given him a chance to explain before yellin' at him," Cat stated. "As for not bein' in favor of the women's group, he didn't want me to do anything that would jeopardize his gettin' patched."

"That's no the issue, Cat," Juanita replied. "The MC has a very strong opinion about protectin' women. You don't abuse your woman's trust, or beat her."

"The thing about your car, we needed one to carry a lot of stuff without it gettin' on law enforcement radar," Glen added. "Your old man said your car had a false bottom, even bragged about ya bootleggin' booze across state lines when you were in college! He might not've been able to tell ya everything, but ya had every right to be pissed that he didn't at least ask to borrow it!"

"It's not like his name is on the title, is it?" Juanita pressed when Cat appeared to be ready to protest again.

"No, it's not," she reluctantly admitted.

"If he disrespected you about your own car, and beat you for being righteously pissed about it, what else is he capable of doin'?" Juanita inquired.

"And how can the club trust him?" Glen interjected.

"I took him back, didn't I?" Cat remarked hotly.

"That's what I don't understand!" Glen exclaimed. "Why in Hell did ya do that?"

"Because he apologized time and again until I felt like an asshole for holdin' a grudge!" Cat replied.

"Honey, that's not holding a grudge, that's self - preservation!" Juanita stated.

"And tell me ya weren't afraid that he'd mop the floor with you that day you sought Ken and me out!" Glen challenged her.

She couldn't deny it, and didn't try to. "I'll be honest with y'all, I expect it to happen again at any time. He has a worse temper than me, and mine's pretty short! It's just easier to go with the flow than to tempt fate."

"Well, tempt it all ya want now. The MC's got your back!" Glen informed her. "If that bastard steps outta line once and he's history!"

Cat straddled her bike and adjusted her helmet. "I appreciate that, and will keep it in mind," she started the bike and rode away, leaving Juanita and Glen shaking their heads in dismay.

"You are tellin' Ken," Juanita observed, glancing at the SAA.

"Absolutely. I'll debrief him right now. See ya later," he gave Juanita a peck on the cheek before they mounted their bikes and rode off in opposite directions from each other.

'Brownie' had his woman drop him off at the end of the block, well out of view of the apartment he shared with Cat. Her bike was parked out front, a sure sign she was home. He had to change and convince her to go to the clubhouse with him. It might take some doing, as he'd managed to keep her away for so long.

"Cory, when are you going to introduce me to your sister?" The girl pouted, sticking her face out the window as he walked around the front of the car.

"Soon, baby."

"You've been saying that for weeks. Lately it seems like all you do is screw me and borrow some money then go on about your business!"

'Christ! Does every woman have to sing that tired old refrain?' Cory sighed inwardly. "Look, baby. These things take time. Cat thinks no woman is good enough for me. You know how siblings can be!" Her brother had taken an instant dislike to Cory, informing his sister the biker was nothing but a no - good leech.

"My brother is a little protective," the girl admitted. "He thinks every guy I meet wants me because of Daddy's money."

"I love you. The money is just icing on the cake. Without cake, you've just got a sweet confection that doesn't last long."

"Flattery will get you everywhere!" The girl cooed.

Cory rewarded her with a passionate kiss, promising everything and anything she wanted. "I've got to go, baby. So should you. I'll see you tomorrow. We'll have the whole day together." He stood on the sidewalk, watching as she put the little sportster in gear and moved away from the curb.

She didn't toot the horn, but did wave a hand in farewell. He waved back, then stuck his hands in his pockets and trudged down the street to the apartment building. His thoughts were on the party. He knew Cat would jump at the chance to be with him. 'I just hope she doesn't want to take me on the bike! The damn thing barely supports her ample ass! Our combined weight might blow out the fuckin' tires!'

Cat was sitting in the living room, watching television and stroking Uhura, who was curled up on her lap. As soon as he walked in, Uhura jumped up and hid under the sofa.

"What's the matter with that damn cat?" he inquired angrily. "She's been afraid of me since I moved back in."

"I don't know. She's just skittish," Cat replied evasively. 'It's hard to relax around someone you don't trust!' She thought, adding aloud, "What'd the shop say about the bike?"

"Somebody put sugar in the gas tank. It's not going to be fixed until sometime next week," he shrugged. "Meant to tell you earlier that there's this big party at the clubhouse tonight. Want to go with me?"

"Sure," she replied carefully. She wasn't going to let on that she already knew about it. She was inwardly grateful that she didn't have to come up with a story to get him to go with her. She'd been pondering the fact that Glen and Juanita, and presumably Ken, knew Cory had beaten her.

Her nose wrinkled at the smell of perfume on his clothes and body as he kissed her hello. "It smells like you've been at the clubhouse. Did Ken drop you off?"

'Brownie' flinched at her easy use of the Prez' first name. "Yeah. We've been gettin' the clubhouse ready for the party. He'd have come up, but has to get cleaned up."

Cat nearly smiled wryly at the smooth lie. "That's OK."

"Well, let me get cleaned up and we'll go over. I have to be there a little early for a meeting."

"I can drop you off and find something to do at the radio station until the party starts. What time should I get back?"

"About eight," he replied, pulling his shirt off as he walked to the bathroom.

"OK. Hope y'all don't mind takin' the 'Rum Runner'. My butt's a little tired from the ride."

"Okay by me," he assured her before closing the bathroom door behind him. 'Hah! How can that lard ass be sore with all that extra padding?' He smirked contemptuously.

Uhura crept out from the sofa, sniffing the air to make sure it was safe. Cat picked the quivering feline up and placed her on the sofa next to her. "It's all right, baby girl. He won't hurt you - or me, for that matter."

The shrill ring of the telephone nearly sent the kitten skittering under the sofa again. Cat placed a comforting hand on the feline's back as she reached for the receiver. "Cat here."

"It's Ken, darlin'. Heard the ride went well."

"It did. Thanks for sendin' the SAA along."

"You're welcome, darlin'. But that's not why I'm callin'."

"I didn't figure it was," she sighed. "You've talked to Glen and your wife."

"Just Kimmel. I'm really sorry we voted to patch him, darlin'."

"Don't be.'Brownie' really wants it."

"Is he there?"

Cat frowned at the receiver, then put it back to her ear. "I'm confused. Thought y'all just dropped him off!"

"Somebody dropped him off a'right, but it wasn't me." The Prez' tone of voice set alarms off in Cat's mind.

"You know somethin', and you're tryin' to figure out how to soften the blow."

"You're good, woman," Ken sighed.

"Sometimes the best thing to do with bad news is just spit it out," Cat replied.

Ken filled her in on what he had witnessed when he'd dropped 'Brownie' off earlier. "Glen informed me that you knew nothin' about the party and covered up for him. I don't trust him any further than I can throw him, but we can't take back the patch. At least, not yet. Glen doesn't think his bike was vandalized. We don't have enemies that would do that."

"Kinda hard to have enemies when you're the only outlaw club in the region!" Cat snickered.

"True dat. Be very careful around him, darlin'. He's up to no good. Are you payin' his insurance?"

"Nope. He's makin' good money with all y'all to pay his own bills," she retorted.

"Good girl! I've already alerted the repair shop to see if they can prove he did it. It's a long shot, but it might be enough to delay a claim for him."

"Sounds good to me," Cat replied, stroking Uhura's glossy fur for reassurance. Her world felt like it was crumbling underneath her, and she couldn't do a thing to stop it.

"Another thing, darlin', and I hate to pile the shit on ya -"

"Might as well get it over with," she replied tiredly.

"Check your bankbook and other accounts. That woman he was with today seems loaded and he's been flauntin' more money lately than we've paid him. He could be robbin' ya blind and givin' it to her."

She heard the shower stop running and knew her time was limited. "I won't be able to do anything until Monday. Listen, it's not gonna be good to talk in a minute. Can you not let on that we talked about this tonight? He's gotta believe -"

"Say no more, darlin'. Can you do likewise?"

"Honey, I was a charter member of the Washington High School Thespian Society! You'll see my actin' chops in full force tonight!"

"Be careful, darlin'."

She hung up without replying as the door to the bathroom opened and Brownie strode out wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. "Who were you talking to?" He asked.

"No one. That was the television," she replied, pointing at the screen.

"Funny. Thought I heard your voice."

"Nope."

He nodded and headed into the bedroom to dress. Cat sighed and relaxed against the sofa. She wasn't looking forward to the party now, but was determined to 'Bogart' her way through it.

---

The night nurse opened the door to Cat's room and slipped inside, allowing the door to close softly behind her. Unlike most people, she didn't have to give her eyes time to adjust to the change in light. She was so used to going from the bright hall to dim rooms and back again that it didn't bother her at all.

She stepped soundlessly to the bed, smiling down at the sight of the outlaw stretched out on the bed, 'spooning' with his wife. She took the necessary readings on the slumbering patient, noting that the elevated temperature had gone down. The patient's BP, heartrate and respirations were also normal.

A light moan from the biker caught her alert ears. She glanced across the bed to find his eyes were twitching with deep REM sleep. His face was also flushed and bathed with sweat. He irritably pitched the blanket off him.

The nurse frowned slightly, as the room temperature was fairly comfortable. She slipped into the bathroom, ran cool water over a clean washcloth, and returned to the bed. The biker was still frowning in his sleep, yet he seemed more approachable to her than he did when he was awake. 'He can't be too much of an asshole. I doubt she'd put up with him for long if he was!' The nurse assured herself, glancing at the patient.

She moved to the the biker's side of the bed and gently cleaned the sweat from his face. The biker sighed in his sleep, mumbling, "Thanks, baby!' He didn't move when she replaced the blanket over the pair except to bury his nose into his wife's hair.

The nurse smiled indulgently before turning to leave the room. She dropped the washcloth in the laundry hamper on her way out.

A co - worker walked by her as she wrote the vital statistics at the fold out ledge next to Cat's door. "Everything OK in there?"

"Sure. They're asleep," the nurse replied.

"The biker's sleeping with her again?"

"Well, they are married! Frankly, I think it's kind of sweet that he's staying with her."

"He scares me! He's so intense looking all the time!" The other nurse shuddered.

"You wouldn't say that if you took a look inside," the night nurse stated. "He's really very protective of her. I wish my husband showed a bit of that once in awhile!"

"I'll take your word for it," the co - worker shrugged. "I've gotta get the 3AM meds dispensed."

"Ms. Marshall scheduled for any meds?"

The co - worker checked her clipboard. "Nope. Not tonight."

"That's good. She's resting well, and as she observed, 'Only a hospital wakes a body up to take a sleepin' pill'!"

"I'm glad I'll miss that particular offering!" The co - worker grinned, heading on down the hall towards the nurse's station.

---

Alex stirred in his sleep, moaning and burrowing his body as close to Cat's as he could get. He had no idea that a night nurse was in the room to take his wife's vital statistics. Nor did he know that the nurse had cleaned the sweat from his face with a cool washcloth and covered him with the blanket he'd thrown off. He was caught in the clutches of a brutal nightmare, reliving the events Cat had endured years before he'd become a part of SAMCRO.

"Thanks, baby," he murmured without opening his eyes, which twitched in REM sleep. He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling the comforting scent that was her. He clung to that scent just as he clung to her body, like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. He wanted to wake up from the dream, but for once, his will was overpowered by something else. All he could do was take the ride to its' inevitable, painful conclusion.

'Brownie' had anticipated getting patched that night. He had done everything he'd been asked to do and the prospect period was officially over that day. He'd anticipated the club meeting would end with him being invited to take his place at the table with the other patched members. He was sorely disappointed. When the door opened and the club spilled out, he sighed in resignation and reminded himself there were other meetings to come. 'It's gotta come before long! I've just gotta keep 'Chubbins' happy a little longer!'

Cat noticed his disappointment and tired to console him. She knew what it was like to look forward to something and not have it turn out as anticipated. He brushed her off with a snarled, "I don't want to talk about it!"

Before the party started, Ken announced that the MC had unanimously voted to adopt the 'Cruisin' Kittens' as a sister club. While the women riders and the rest of the MC reacted happily, 'Brownie' threw an expression anger and betrayal straight at Cat.

His stormy reaction made her shiver with dread. 'He holds me responsible for not gettin' patched!' She wasn't looking forward to going home with him that night.

Ken noticed both 'Brownie's' reaction to the annoucement. He also picked up on her fleeting body lanuage. He crossed to where she stood and held out his hand in congratulations, placing his back to 'Brownie' so the prospect couldn't witness their conversation. "Don't worry, darlin'. He's not gonna take it out on ya. He doesn't dare!"

She smiled wanly at the Prez, and pretended that everything was fine when 'Brownie' came up to congratulate her. Though he was outwardly calm, Cat knew otherwise. So did the MC Prez and SAA.

'She definitely has brass balls to face him without flinching!' Ken thought admiringly.

Glen kept 'Brownie' under close surveillance the entire night. Ken had briefed him on the phone call and Cat's brag about acting, while he'd informed his Prez about the beating. They'd agreed not to bring up the vote on the prospect that night in order to see how he'd react and make a final determination.

As part of adopting the women as an affiliated club, The MC promised to protect them from any and all harm, including from their own brothers. 'Brownie' swore to uphold the promise, but neither Cat nor the MC officers believed he had any intention of keeping it.

Cat continued to feel apprehensive about being alone with 'Brownie' that night. The minute they stepped inside the door and Uhura made her mad scamper under the sofa, he body slammed her into the bedroom and onto the bed. He angrily ripped her clothes off her body and raped her, slamming his engorged cock into her from behind. Cat refused to cry out, much less fight him off.

He hurled hateful, angry epithets at her with every thrust, spewing his venom as he spewed his semen into her. Everything he did to her that night was a vile act instead of a communion of love. Her continued silence angered him more than if she fought against him. She lay passively beneath him, allowing him to use her body until he finally ran out of energy and collasped on the bed, panting and sweating next to her.

Cat slid painfully to the edge of the bed, intending to get up and hide in the bathroom. His hand shot out, grabbing hold of her wrist in an iron grip. His fingers dug viciously into her skin.

"You aren't going anywhere, bitch! I'm not done with you!" He snarled.

"Cory, please! It's not my fault the MC didn't patch you in!" She protested.

He barked a harsh laugh of disbelief. "You honestly believe that, fatso? You're exactly the reason I didn't get patched! It's about time you learn to never ruin my plans!" His tone of voice held the promise of more degradation and humiliation.

He sat up and straddled her, massaging his cock in front of her face. When it was standing erect once more, he stuffed it into her mouth. "Don't even think of biting me, you fat slug! You bite me, you die!"

He held her by the throat with his hands as he rammed his cock as far back in her throat as possible. He released one hand from her throat long enough to slap her when she'd gagged and nearly puked. He continued thrusting in and out of her mouth, deliberately brushing his cock against her teeth in warning until he came in her mouth, spewing hot liquid down her throat, making sure she swallowed every drop.

When he was assured that she couldn't spit any of his cum out of her mouth, he allowed his limp dick to slide out of her mouth and lay on her chest. He reached across the bed where he'd left his knife and held it up in front of her face. He turned it so that the light shone on the long blade, then placed the point right under her ear. He allowed the sharp point to slide from one side of her throat to the other, not allowing it to break the skin.

He smiled as he felt her body shiver from fear that he'd cut her. He moved the knife blade back to the front of her neck and turned it so that the point rested right on her esophagus. "Yeah, I'm going to brand you, bitch. No one will ever want you once I'm done with you!" He jammed the knife into her throat and cut a narrow vertical slit in it.

Though Cat's eyes had widened when he promised to cut her, she still refused to say cry or scream. She'd learned to remain silent after she made that initial protest. She hoped that if she kept quiet, he'd eventually give up. Her muscles tightened when she felt the knife pierce her skin, but that was her only reaction.

'Brownie's' eyes gleamed manically when he saw blood flow from the shallow cut. He'd gone deep enough to leave a scar, but not enough that she'd bleed to death. He lowered his face to hers, as if he intended to kiss her, then moved his lips to her neck, placing them over the wound he'd made. He suckled the blood, savoring the coppery taste. He licked at the wound and sucked some more, making slurping sounds that nauseated her. The smell of copper assailed her nostrils as 'Brownie' forced his lips on hers, sticking his bloody tongue in her mouth so that she had no choice but to taste her own blood combined with his saliva.

Blood continued to ooze from the wound, running down to her breasts and stomach. "I'm surprised it's even hitting your tits as big as that gut is!" He laughed nastily, smearing the blood over her skin. He rammed his blood - covered hand into her pussy. "Is that how it feels when you're on the rag? I've never fucked a woman on the rag!"

His cock had gone rock hard again as he'd sucked on her neck. He took another mouthful of blood and lowered his body until he was sitting on her knees. He put his face to her sex and forced the warm, wet blood into her vagina. Then he moved between her legs and thrust up inside, enjoying the feel of the blood sliding against his rigid cock. "So this is what it feels like to part the Red Sea!" He chortled, slamming into her hard and fast while he took one of her nipples into his mouth and sucked hard. When he didn't get any satisfaction, he bit the tip of her nipple until he drew blood, which he sucked like a newborn.

The man abusing her body so nightmarishly was nothing like the man she thought she'd loved all this time. She winced when he bit her nipple, silent tears running from both eyes. Every time she closed her eyes to shut out his demonic appearance, he pinched or bit some other part of her until she opened them again. He continued ramming deep into her, spewing more hateful words to describe his real feelings for her. He shuddered his release and collasped on top of her, whispering a panted, "Ugly tub of lard!" in her ear.

He slid off her, keeping one hand locked around her wrist in that same vice like grip. Cat curled up in a fetal position on the bed, unwilling to watch him fondle his cock to punish her some more. 'Should I fight him? It's like he's possessed! I was hopin' he'd get tired and give up by now!' She moved slightly and the grip on her wrist increased, making her wince.

"Go ahead, bitch! Fight me! Give me an excuse! He taunted, rolling her over onto her stomach and drawing her up on her knees. "Just give me a reason to take your life!"

That was enough to make Cat forget about fighting. She wasn't sure if he meant to say that aloud or not. 'At least I know not to fight!' She supported herself on her elbows, muscles tightening against what she knew would be the next invasion of her body. 'How can he do this to me?'

He could be so abusive to her because he wanted to, and with the help of a psychotic drug he'd ingested before they'd left the party. It gave him stamina he didn't normally possess and unleashed the sadistic and cruel nature he'd kept hidden from her all along.

Holding her rear end against his dick, he impaled it into her rectum, not caring that he was tearing tissue. He slowly withdrew, laughing at the sight of shit clinging to his engorged cock. He put it up against her rectum again and impaled himself as far as he could go, slamming his pelvis up against her rear. He thrust fast and hard. The sound of skin slapping skin, his grunts and hate filled words the only sounds that broke the silence in the apartment.

Cock still impaled in her rectum, he flipped her over onto her side, then withdrew his cock and forced her onto her back. He waved his shit coated cock in front of her face, laughing nastily when she choked from the smell. Then he slammed his coat into her vagina again, mixing it with the blood and previous semen he'd shot inside her. He shuddered as the semen spewed inside her cavity. He collasped on top of her, dick still implanted inside her vagina. He panted and muttered obscenties in her ear until his body relaxed and the words tailed off into loud snores. His cock wilted and fell out of her vagina at last.

She lay on the bed with his dead weight on top of her. She wanted to be sure that he was asleep and not playing possum. She pushed him off her and he rolled onto his back, legs apart and arms sprawled out, the drug's effects finally exhausted.

Cat slid from the bed onto the floor. Her legs couldn't hold her up. She lay on the floor for a bit, then painfully crawled into the bathroom.

Sensing that her person was in pain, Uhura scampered into the bathroom with her. She rubbed her head against Cat's leg while she closed and locked the door. Cat then crawled to the toilet and hung her face over the seat, vomiting until she had nothing left to bring up. Dry heaves kept her crouching before the toilet, while Uhura rubbed against her side, trying to offer what comfort she could. side before she closed and locked the door.

"It's OK, little girl. We're safe." She assured the little feline. She tried to stand up and couldn't, her legs were too shaky and her body hurt. She managed to crawl to the tub and started the shower running. She used the side of the tub as a support and hauled herself over the side, collapsing inside while the hot water ran over her. She didn't cry over what 'Brownie' had done to her. She wanted to kill him, but was too weak to do it right. 'If I don't succeed, he'll kill me!'

She stayed in the shower, letting the water wash the filth of their combined secretions down the drain. Eventually she was able to stand up inside the shower and lather her body. She soaped and rinsed herself several times until the water ran cold and the lather clear of blood, shit, and semen.

Uhura had curled up in a corner of the bathroom, watching her with wide emerald eyes. Cat stepped out of the shower and wrapped her body in a fluffy beach towel. Another, smaller towel covered her head. She limped to the medicine cabinet and removed a bottle of over the counter pain medicine. She shook out four tablets, popped them in her mouth, and swallowed them with the help of a cup of water.

The bathroom was large with a tub/shower and sink made of black marble. There was a large shag rug in the center of the floor that served as bath mat and floor covering. Cat spread another large towel on the floor and used another beach towel as a cover. She placed two folded towels under her head for a pillow and gingerly lowered her sore body onto the make shift bed. Once she was settled, Uhura curled up next to her, purring in an attempt to comfort her person. Cat's arm wrapped around the cat, stroking the silky smooth fur.

"No worries, little girl. There's no way I"m goin' out there until the rat bastard is gone!" Her voice was husky and hoarse from the iron grip 'Brownie' had used while forcing her to take his cock in her mouth. It didn't seem that any permanent damage was done to her throat. She could breathe, and it had only hurt a little to swallow the tablets and water.

She hadn't looked at herself in the mirror, time enough to take inventory of her injuries in the morning. She couldn't make a rape report, all the evidence had gone down the drain. She laughed inwardly, scoffing at the idea. 'Like the police would even accept that someone you've been living with raped y'all anyway!' She knew she'd be covered with bruises that wouldn't show, except where his hands had gripped her throat.

---

Piney set the bottle of tequila on his kitchen table and picked up his burner. He didn't recognize the number, but knew from the origination locator that it had to be one of the club checking in from Belfast.

"Yeah," he breathed into the receiver.

"It's Bobby. Where's Tig? I tried to get him and didn't get an answer."

"St. Thomas. Cat was readmitted."

Bobby scrubbed his face with one hand. As if the club hadn't had enough excitement since arriving in Belfast! "Shit! She OK?"

"Yeah. Exhaustion. The good news is her eye is OK. Bandages came off today."

Bobby sighed with relief. "That's gonna make the guys breathe easier."

"Everything a'right there?"

"It's been an adventure," Bobby updated him on the attempted ambush that Gemma had foiled. "We put the fear of the Yankee Reaper in those cops!"

Piney barked a dry laugh. "Oh, I would've loved to have seen that!"

"Chibs is havin' a family reunion. His nephew patched SAMBEL, and Fiona and Kerrianne are stayin' with Father Ashby."

"That's Mo's brother. He'll take good care of 'em."

"There's somethin' you need to pass on to Tig and Kozik," Bobby brought the founding member up to speed on what the club had determined since arriving. Piney frowned at the news Bobby shared, but promised to share the intel with the SAA and Kozik the following day.

"Be careful, brother," Piney advised before the ending the call. He tossed the burned onto the table and picked up the bottle of Patron, pouring a generous helping into a glass. He raised the glass in a silent toast 'to absent friends' then tossed back a large swallow. The warmth of the liquid did little to melt the icy fear in his gut for his brothers.

---

'Brownie' was gone when she woke up the next morning and limped out of the bathroom. The bed was a wreck, and it was obvious to her he'd washed up in the kitchen sink. 'Nothin' a little bleach won't purify!'

She fed Uhura, stripped the soiled seats off the bed, and dressed. She winced in pain with every movement. She knew the pain would lessen with each stretch and step so she doggedly kept at her tasks.

She carried the soiled bedclothes down to the garbage can, and set fire to them with her lighter. The sheets and pillowcases wilted and curled up into themselves, turning black as the hungry blue - orange flames consumed them. without leaving a note regarding his plans. She watched the fire until the bedclothes were nothing but grey ash and the fire had died out, leaving tendrils of white smoke billowing from the trash can.

Cat was relieved to find her car and motorcycle were parked on the street. That meant the 'other' woman had likely picked him up. That didn't thought didn't bother her at all. It meant she'd have plenty of time to search his things for any documented proof of his duplicity. Her search was thorough but fruitless.

With Ken's suggestion ringing in her ears, Cat checked her hidden lock box to finally discover the tampering. She opened it to find the cash she'd stashed away for emergencies was gone, but the bank books appeared to be untouched.

She was more sad than angry that 'Brownie' had stolen from her. 'So much for provin' that he could ask me for help anytime!' She dryly observed. The small ember of love she had left went cold with that discovery. It hurt almost as much as the realization that he'd never loved her.

She eventually gave in to curiosity and looked at herself in the full length mirror. Her face was the only part of her that wasn't marked. There were two large, red hand prints around her neck. Both her rear and her vagina were sore and tender, as was the one breast where he'd nearly bitten the nipple off. 'Well, it could've been worse!' She consoled herself, unwilling to allow herself to dwell on the subject. She'd survived and that was the important thing.

She took the car first to the student health center, where she submitted to treatment for the wounds, had a tetanus shot for the bite, and accepted a prescription so that the excrement 'Brownie' had implanted in her vagina wouldn't lead to an infection. The doctor tried to convince her to contact the police to file a report, but she refused. She made a follow up appointment for the following week and left the health center. Her next visit was to a local hardware store where she purchased a new deadbolt lock and key set. She replaced the lock on her apartment door herself and made plans to get the extra key to the landlord.

Cat entertained the idea of throwing Cory's things out the window onto the lawn, but decided against it. It would anger him and tip him off that she knew of his duplicity. She wasn't ready to confront him until she had concrete evidence. 'I'm also pretty embarrassed to call the police to escort him away again.'

The MC Prez came by to check on her, worried about 'Brownie's' reaction to the lack of vote on his patching in. She covered her neck dressing with a turtleneck shirt before she let himi in.

He gave her a thorough once over, but didn't see any signs of injury. "Where is he?" he growled.

"'Brownie's' off somewhere, I assumed club business," she shrugged.

"Haven't seen him all day. He hasn't called, either," Ken replied, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Then if he's not doin' anything with y'all, he's probably with that other woman," she shrugged, wincing inwardly at the twinge in her abused muscles.

Ken stared steadily at her. "You're takin' that idea pretty well, considerin' how much he meant to ya."

"Meant is the operative word, friend. I've already changed the locks, so if he comes home tonight, he's in for a nasty surprise."

"Want one of us to hang around in case he blows a gasket?"

"Nah. Won't be necessary, but appreciate the offer. What's he gonna do, knock the door down?"

"It's possible. I've seen him do that martial arts shit. He can break boards, ya know."

She didn't know, but she wasn't going to allow herself to live in fear of him. '"Well, if he tries to break in, I'll just call the cops. I'll be fine," she insisted.

"I don't like it little girl, but it's your decision and I'll respect it. Feel free to call if ya change your mind." He rode back to the club and assigned one of the unmarried members to stake out the apartment the rest of that day. "I'll send someone else to relieve ya this evening. If that asshat shows up, find a phone, call me, and we'll take care of things."

The patched member didn't question the Prez, just nodded and rode home to get his car. It'd be easier and more comfortable to use on the stakeout then the bike.

To her relief, 'Brownie' didn't return to the apartment that night. She went to sleep with the baseball bat propped next to the bed. Her voice wasn't husky the next morning, so that her airshift went well, and none of the cops on her beat or her co - workers noticed anything was wrong with her.

She skipped class and went to her bank, asking to meet with the head cashier. She was directed to wait at a row of chairs along one wall. She complied, trying to appear relaxed. Internally, she was a bubbling cauldron of turmoil.

"I understand you've been waiting to see me," the head cashier greeted her as she came up to Cat's chair.

"Yes ma'am. Is there somewhere we can talk privately? I have a major concern about my accounts."

The head cashier led her to a large conference room. A large, shiny, wooden table took up the center with leather chairs surrounding it. They took seats and Cat expressed her concerns. "You can understand why I didn't want to inquire about this at one of the teller windows."

"Definitely. I'll just run a quick report, and we'll see what your current balances are."

"While you're at it, can you check into any address changes put in or any other changes? I've not seen a statement this month."

The head cashier nodded. "Do you want some coffee while you wait?"

"No, thanks. I'm good," she replied. Actually, her stomach was too upset to hold anything, including coffee.

Cat knew something was wrong the minute the head cashier returned. The bank employee had a look of bewilderment on her face. She carried a large print out in her arm. Cat had been pacing around the room while the head cashier gathered all the information together and slipped back into her chair at the conference table.

"I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Marshall. It appears that your accounts have a zero balance. Your statements are being sent to a PO Box," the head cashier stated evenly, placing the evidence on the desk.

Cat didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the documented evidence of 'Brownie's' theft. A photo copy of the forged marriage license, his signature card, a list of daily withdrawals from the accounts, and the change of address form were proof positive that he'd used her in the worst way.

"I can't explain how this happened, Ms. Marshall. Mr. Brown's paperwork was all in order and appeared legitimate!"

"Maybe y'all had better have a seat before you fall, darlin'." Cat advised the shaken woman. "It looks like we've got a little work ahead of us."

The head cashier fell into the chair she'd previously vacated. "We need to get our fraud department involved in this."

Cat nodded agreement. "The cops as well. I can assure y'all the license is as fake as a 'twee' dollar bill."

The head cashier called in the fraud officer and the three worked together during the afternoon to trace 'Brownie's' subterfuge. It took several hours, but the minister named on the license eventually verified by phone that he'd never met Cat, much less united the couple.

"That's all we need," the fraud officer stated with satisfaction. "All we have to do is file a police report and let the cops bust him."

Cat endured an interview with a detective from the fraud unit and gave him all the information she had about the theft, including that she had no idea he'd been stealing from her for so long. She informed the detective that Cory was a member of the local MC. "He might also be hangin' out with some chick that drives a sportster," she added, giving the description Ken had provided of the car.

"Don't beat yourself up, Ms. Marshall, lots of people get swindled, sometimes more elaborately than you were. There's plenty of evidence for an arrest warrant," the detective assured her, gathering his copy of the paperwork and heading to his car.

"I can't say that you'll recover your money, Ms. Marshall," the fraud officer walking beside her added. "The bank is also a victim in this matter. You should consider suing him."

"Y'all can't get blood outta a turnip, or money from someone who can't keep it in his wallet," Cat replied dryly. "Guess I'll need to talk to a lawyers." She stumbled out of the bank, surprised that the sun was shining. She'd expected the sky to be as stormy as her life had become.

She straddled the bike and rode to the clubhouse. She had no clear idea as to what she would do or say when she got there, except to advise Ken or Glen what was going to happen.

To her dismay, neither officer was present when she walked into the clubhouse. There were a few hang arounds at the bar and pool table. And the one person she didn't want to see.

"Hey, honey!" He greeted her with a wave, acting as if nothing vile had taken place between them the night of the party. "Thought you had classes all day!"

"Playin' hookey. Somethin' important came up," she replied stiffly. "Where's Ken and Glen?"

"Club business," he informed her guardedly. He'd taken the sportster to the clubhouse, staking it out until he saw the club members leave on their bikes. He suspected that the Prez and SAA might know about the other night, he wouldn't put it past that tub of lard to have ratted on him. His casual inquiries of the hang arounds hadn't produced any fruit, and he was worried about Cat's sudden appearance or her request to see the officers. Cat looked anything but happy to see him and that wasn't normal, even taking the brutal sex into consideration. "What's wrong, honey?"

His apparent disregard for the vile way he'd treated her hours earlier and use of the once loved endearment annoyed her. Her temper was already stretched pretty thin, and he was working on her last nerve. "Nothin' for y'all to worry about," she grumbled, turning to leave before she said something she'd regret - or give anything away.

He followed her outside, determined to find out what she wanted with the MC's officers. He didn't appreciate her demeanor towards him. It reminded him of the cold shoulder she'd turned on him after the beating. Cat was nearly to her bike when he caught up with her and grabbed her by the shoulder.

Cat shrugged out of his grasp and turned on him with a shouted. "Do - not - touch - me!"

"What the Hell is wrong with you, woman? You act like I'm a leper!" He cried.

His comment was the last straw. Cat didn't care if she tipped her hand or not. She had had enough of his lies. "Lepers are better company in comparison!" She growled, glaring fiercely at him. "Just get out of my way and stay away from me! I'm done with you!"

"I know what's the matter. Someone told you I was hanging around another girl," he replied suavely for the benefit of the hang arounds who'd come out to witness the squabble. "Women! Just talk to another skirt and they hink of lookin' at another skirt and they get all green eyed!"

The hang arounds chuckled in sympathy. Cat favored them with 'The Look' before turning her attention back on 'Brownie'. "Where y'all stick your dick doesn't matter to me anymore. Y'all can stick it in a power outlet for all I care!"

'If the gash isn't the trouble, what the Hell could have her on the warpath? It can't be the sex!' It didn't occur to him that she knew about his thievery. Her anger pushed at his temper so that he fired a verbal salvo of his own. "That sounds more stimulating than screwing you!"

"Really? Didn't hear y'all complainin' the other night!" She retorted hotly. "I had to get tested for STD's yesterday!"

"Believe me, fuckin' you was no fun for me!" He complained. The hang arounds laughed rudely, sympathizing with 'Brownie'. They whispered crude comments at her expense.

"Awww! Poor baby! Doesn't surprise me that you're playin' up to your audience!" She snapped, pointing at the hang arounds. "I'm not the only one who knows that y'all are cheatin'."

"Took you long enough to figure it out!" He scoffed.

"Next time, don't swap spit with your girlfriend in broad daylight in front of the house!" She snapped.

'Brownie's' face went pale. He knew then how she knew.

"Isn't it funny how a lot of things come clear once a body starts to really loook at what's in front of 'em!" She reached into her inner jacket pocket and pulled out a packet of folded papers. "I'm sure that the Prez and SAA will find this interestin'!"

Brownie reached out for it, but she held it away from him. "Don't tell me y'all really think I'm that stupid!"

"If the shoe fits, darlin'!" He turned to the hang arounds and added, "Can any of you blame me for preferin' a sweet butt to her?" The hang arounds laughed nastily.

"Go ahead and laugh. We'll see who gets the last laugh my dear," Cat replied smoothly, returning the packet to her pocket for safe keeping. She was certain the hang arounds would mention the paperwork to the officers, and they'd seek her out later.

"What's that supposed to mean?" 'Brownie' snarled. "Just what are those papers?"

"Proof that you've been violatin' the by - laws from the get - go, 'husband'!" Cat retorted. "Once he reads this, the Prez will kick y'all out of the club faster than than Uhura can run under the bed when she sees y'all!" She turned to mount her bike, satisfied that her verbal arrow had hit deep. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the concrete, looking up into the sky and 'Brownie's' angry face.

"I won't hurt you if you hand over those papers now and take off," he instructed coldly.

"Not happenin' in this lifetime," she retorted, struggling to sit up. When she was unsuccessful, she reached for the knife she had concealed in her boot.

'Brownie' quickly slapped her hand away. Her arm fell to the concrete and he placed his foot over her wrist, pressing down until he heard the bones crack.

"Wrong answer, honey. Now give me the papers like a good little fat slob," he squatted beside her to reach into the jacket. His foot was still holding down her wrist, crushing the bones under his centered weight. He hoped she'd scream or cry out in pain.

Instead, Cat brought her knees up to her chest, then pushed them into his crotch. He fell back on his ass, wreathing and grunting in pain. The hang arounds whooped and hollered encouragement to her while a few cupped their own balls in sympathy.

Cat ignored them, using 'Brownie's own pain and injury to her advantage. She struggled to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain in her wrist. It was going to hurt to operate the clutch, but she wasn't about the leave her bike where he could harm it. She didn't trust any of the hang arounds to prevent him from it.

She climbed onto the bike, started the engine, and tried to engage the clutch. She nearly screamed as pain radiated up her arm.

'Brownie' rolled to his knees, holding his bruised balls in one hand and gritting his teeth. There was no way he was going to allow her to get away with those incriminating papers. He stood on shaky legs, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain.

Cat managed to get her bike in gear and was rolling slowly to the street. She couldn't put the bike in another gear, so it began to lurch and buck.

'Brownie' raced after her, grabbing a handful of the leather jacket and 'Cruisin' Kittens' patch. He heaved his arm back, pulling her off the bike and onto the concrete again. The impact sent her glasses flying off her face.

The Seca continued rolling, wobbling from side to side without anyone to guide it until it fell over. The engine sputtered and died.

In the silence that followed, 'Brownie' straddled her body and let his rear end fall onto her stomach. The unexpected weight sent the air out of her lungs in an explosive exhale. He slapped her face with both hands. "Give me the papers!" He grunted with each blow.

"Go - to - Hell!" Cat snarled. She spit a wad of bloody saliva in his face and tried to block the blows. Her action was defiance personified, though it was also futile.

'Brownie' saw red and lost his temper. As the hang arounds watched in disbelief, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her head into the pavement several times, each push more forceful than the last. He screamed with rage, using his closed fists to pummel her head and face.

Cat literally saw stars dancing in front of her eyes. 'Brownie's' features were blurred, so she couldn't see the distorted hatred on his face. She could feel each blow. She took a deep breath when he stood up, only to choke and lose all her air again when he kicked her in the side. He continued to kicking her in the side, then kicked her in the side of the head, causing her to pass out.

One of the hang arounds came to his senses when 'Brownie' jumped on her stomach with both feet, then resumed kicking her in the side. The man bravely grabbed 'Brownie' around the waist and bodily heaved him away from the bloodied, inert form on the concrete.

"Enough, man! You're gonna kill her!" The hang around shouted.

'Brownie' glared angrily at the man, murderous hate blazing in his eyes. The hang around took an involuntary step back, but refused to allow him to resume the savage beating. "She's probably dead. You'd better get outta here before the Prez or the Sarge get back!"

"You didn't see this!" 'Brownie' shouted.

"No can do, bro. You're history. No one's gonna cover your ass. I'm puttin' my life on the line in lettin' you go," the hang around replied. "Best for you to get the fuck outta town!"

'Brownie' looked across the lot at the other hang arounds. They were milling around uncertainly, their hands stuffed in their pockets. None of them would look him in the eye. He looked down at Cat's body. Shock and horror raced through him at the sight of a pool of blood under her head. Her face, was nearly unrecognizable. Blood seeped from one eye and out of her nose and mouth. Her left hand lay limp on the concrete, the wrist showing his boot print.

He squatted next to her, reaching a hand out to the front of her jacket. He didn't care if she was alive or not, he needed that packet.

The hang around hauled him away from her before 'Brownie' could retrieve the papers. "Whatever they are, those papers aren't gonna do ya any good now!" The hang around assumed a protective stance over the unconscious woman.

He ran to the sportster, climbed in, and and peeled away from the clubhouse without a backwards glance. As he pulled onto the street, he heard the sounds of Harley engines approaching. He accelerated in the opposite direction from the oncoming motorcycles as if the devil was chasing him.

His mind raced. He'd need to get his stuff from the apartment, but he couldn't stay there very long. He felt confident he could hide out at the gash's for awhile. He'd have to get hide the bike until he felt it was safe to venture out of town. He knew once the Prez found out what he'd done, the club would come looking for him.

A nasty surprise awaited him when he reached his street. Marked police cruisers were sitting in front of the building, red lights flashing. Uniformed officers milled around in the yard. He knew they were waiting for him.

'She ratted me out to the police about the money!' He thought wildly, guiding the sportster on past his street. He kept his speed under control, waiting intensely to see if any of the patrol cars gave chase.

He relaxed a little when he realized the cops weren't giving chase. To be safe, he took several back streets to the gash's apartment. The garage door was open and he drove into it, then put the garage door down. 'I wouldn't put it past her to have given a description of the car. Ken would've told her about it, that's how she knew about the gash!'

The girlfriend had given him a key, so he let himself in and called out a greeting as he shut the door behind him. No one was home, so he made himself comfortable and thought up a cover story to convince the gash to let him stay with her.

A grisly sight awaited the Prez and SAA when they pulled into the clubhouse lot. The hang arounds were righting the fallen Seca, while others were gathered around a broken, bloody body.

They hurriedly shut off their bikes and lowered the kickstands, running to the inert form. "What the fuck happened?" The Prez snarled. The bike and the jacket looked familiar, but the face was unrecognizable.

"'Brownie' beat the shit out of his old lady," the hang around who'd pried the biker away from the woman explained. "She came here lookin' for you, said she had some intel you'd be interested in about him. He went nuts, knocked her down and crushed her wrist. She tried to leave and he went ballistic, especially after she spat at him."

"Did anyone call 911?" The SAA growled. "Why are you all standin' around?"

"We - we weren't sure that we should!" One of the hang arounds stuttered.

"If you ever hope to prospect, you'd better get inside and call 9-1-1!" Glen roared angrily. He pointed to another hang around and ordered him to bring some water and clean cloths.

"Is that a good idea?" The hang around inquired.

"Don't make me repeat myself!" Kimmel snarled, shoving the hang around in the direction of the clubhouse. In seconds, the hang round returned, carrying a pan of water and several strips of cloth over his arm.

Ken and Glen knelt down next to Cat, shuddering at the visible damage. They wordlessly dipped cloths into the water and began working on cleaning some of the blood from her face. Cuts from 'Brownie's' ring were all over her face. None of them were deep, but they bled profusely.

Sirens howled in the distance, the two officers hoped it was an ambulance. Ken turned to his SAA and began issuing orders. "Go look for him. Find a phone, call Juanita, have her contact the Kittens to join the search. I want him before the cops get him."

"Copy that," Glen snapped, tossing the wet, bloody cloth on the ground and striding to his bike. "We'll find him, boss!"

Ken nodded grimly. He reached into Cat's jacket and extracted the sheath of papers. 'She went through Hell to get these to me. They must be important!' He folded the packet and stuck it in his back pocket.

Glen whipped out of the lot just as an ambulance, followed by a cop car, turned in. Ken returned to tending his friend's wounds until the paramedics rushed up and took over. He rose to his feet, not caring that his hands were covered with blood. The wet, bloody cloth hung from one hand.

"She's still alive!" One of the paramedics exclaimed.

---

Alex awoke from the nightmare panting and sweating as if he'd run a mile. He'd kicked the blanket off again in his tortured sleep. It took a few seconds for him to realize he'd been dreaming about the events that led to Cat's near fatal beating and the beating itself. It had seemed so real to him, as if he'd been watching the entire thing but unable to prevent it from happening. His heart raced in his chest as he clutched his wife close to him.

Cat moaned softly in her sleep and snuggled against him. They were laying spoon style again, and it seemed to him that she needed the same comfort the physical closeness provided that he needed. Alex closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths until his heart rate returned to normal. Fresh tears welled in his eyes over the brutal assault his wife had suffered.

There hadn't been much to the story after June had graphically described the rape and beating. The MC's Prez had made a copy of the packet, which he turned over to the Terre Haute PD. They in turn began an exhaustive search for 'Brownie'. The MC and the women's group began their search within minutes of the incident. None of the searches were successful.

'Brownie' hid out in his girlfriend's apartment for a few weeks. He didn't even venture out when he learned his bike was fixed. He made up a story about being sick, and asked them to keep it until he could pick it up. He kept his club jacket hidden from the girl, so she would never make the connection between him and the man the police were hunting.

The local news reports identified him by a different name than she called him. He easily changed his looks by shaving his beard and mustache, getting his hair cut short, and having it dyed. He told the girl he had to change his appearance because he'd gotten a job.

He had her drop him off at the public library each day, where he claimed he was working. He was able to stay with her after the assault because he convinced her that Cat had suddenly and unceremoniously thrown him out of the apartment. Since his name wasn't on the lease, he'd had no choice but to leave.

He had one bad moment when the girl showed him the newspaper story the following day about the assault and asked if he couldn't move back in during her absence. He came up with a cover story, that Cat had taken out a restraining order on him, and that he would be arrested for trespass if he showed up at the apartment. The girl had no reason not to believe him, and because he dangled the ideal of them getting an apartment of their own in front of her nose, she didn't pursue the issue.

The local news coverage of his wanted status eventually died down, as did the constant search by the MC and the 'Kittens'. When he felt it was safe for him to leave town without being captured, he took advantage of the opportunity. Claiming an intestinal disorder, 'Brownie' called off sick from work. After the girlfriend and her roommate left for work, he stole the rent money they kept in the house, along with some items he could easily pawn on the road.

He called a cab to take him to Cat's apartment, telling the driver to take him to the back yard and wait. The police had ended the stake out at Cat's apartment, and neither the MC nor the 'Kittens' had anyone watching the back of the building. He was able to break in to retrieve his things, and help himself to what few small items of value she had that could be pawned. He had the cab take him to the dealership where he paid the bill for the storage; the insurance had already paid for the repair. He rode away from the dealership, taking back streets and little used county roads out of town to avoid both the club and the women's group. He didn't relax until he left Vigo County in the rear view mirror.

He continued taking back roads to Vincennes, where he crossed the state line to Illinois, and rode straight to a bank where he'd deposited the money he'd stolen from Cat and he'd made from the MC. He withdrew a considerable sum, explaning he had a new job in another state, and would send a change of address as soon as he was settled.

The Terre Haute police traced him to Colorado, but the trail went cold. The money he'd stolen had been transferred there and withdrawn in cash. The Yamaha had been sold as junk; damaged beyond repair.

Cat was in a coma for two weeks after the assault. Once she came to, the recovery process was slow and frustrating. The MC kept someone on guard 24/7 for several weeks, in case 'Brownie' tried to finish what he'd started.

The 'Cruisin' Kittens' were constant visitors, as were June and several other friends 'Brownie' had scared away. The radio station held out as long as possible, but after a month's absence, hired someone else for her job. She was dismissed from classes, due to her lack of attendance, earning incompletes on her coursework.

The bank refused to repay Cat the money that had been stolen, claiming that they were victims as much as she was. She couldn't get the money back from 'Brownie' because he had essentially disappeared. A lawyer who'd respected her broadcast work took her case to court and won a judgement against the bank, though the settlement was for far less than she was owed. He didn't charge a fee for his services.

Her father had been shocked that she'd been injured so terribly by someone she'd trusted. He was even more appalled by the elaborate theft Cory had perpetrated. He covered her rent until her landlord filed for and won a default eviction based on the number of police runs to the apartment and the break in. The judge frowned upon the landlord's cunning by filing while she was hospitalized and unable to appear. He had no choice but to award the default judgement because she'd been properly served.

June saw to the care and feeding of Uhura during Cat's absence from the apartment. She discovered the break in and reported it to the landlord and the police. June and the 'Cruisin' Kittens' packed her possessions and placed them in storage, which the MC paid for. June transported Uhura to Cat's father to be cared for until Cat was back on her feet.

Cat eventually fought her way back to physical independence. Not only did she miscarry because of 'Brownie' jumping on her stomach, the abuse caused permanent damage to her reproductive organs, rendering her infertile. That didn't bother her as much as the emotional scars. She was then diagnosed with the PTSD that would plague her the rest of her life, controlled through short - term counseling and medication.

Alex nuzzled her neck, breathing in the faint scent of her shampoo. The familiar smell comforted him. His arms tightened around her, though he remembered to be careful of her ribs. He considered himself very lucky that Cat's emotional scars didn't turn her against men, much less made her fearful of men harming her.

'I gotta remember to ask her about that,' he mused. He was also grateful that she'd not lost that giving, generous soul. 'I wonder if Bill knew everything that had happened to her, or if she gave him the same condensed version she gave me? I'd really like to know why she sugar - coated it.'

Those questions could simmer on the back burner for the time being. For now, he was content to be with her, and vowed to do all he possibly could to keep her safe before he slipped into a blessedly dreamless slumber.