She knew the Sons dealt in some illegal shit, but they kept the drugs out of Charming and they provided protection for several establishments, including her own bar, Belladonna's. She tended to look the other way when certain things happened in her bar, and today was no different. There were three large men with Russian accents drinking her top shelf vodka as they met with four of the members of the Sons of Anarchy.

The room suddenly felt tense. She knew by the set of the Sons' shoulders that things were not going as they had planned. The Russians seemed eerily calm as they sipped their vodka, seeming to not care about the tension rolling off the Sons. The eerie calm worried her more than the tension did.

She saw Happy's hand go for his gun a millisecond before the fat Russian pulled out his own. When she saw Happy get knocked down and his gun slide across the floor toward her, she knelt and grabbed it, sliding it back, reflexively. He caught it and had it up instantly, pointed at the large man in the suit who also had a gun trained on him.

She wouldn't remember the details later, the adrenaline took over as she watched her barroom explode with gunfire. A bullet whizzed past her ear, she grabbed her Glock 26 from the inner pants holster hidden under her Belladonna's polo. She had a Mossberg twelve gauge and a box of slugs under the bar, but the Glock got business taken care of much quicker. The shotgun was more for show these days. Drunks found their wallets pretty quickly when she laid the Mossberg on the counter.

Another bullet flew her way and the fat man in the black suit hit the floor, followed quickly by the man whose bullets had come entirely too close to her head. Finally, the man who had another Son she'd never met, pinned against the mirror that ran along the side wall followed his associates to the floor.

She hadn't consciously thought 'shoot these assholes' but given the broken glass and bullet holes that littered the room that was immaculate moments earlier, she didn't care. Her father had built this bar from the ground up, and in ninety seconds, it was a complete wreck. There had been confrontation in her bar before, but it had never resulted in this much damage. She'd never had to patch bullet holes or replace half the booze behind her bar.

She surveyed the men in her bar carefully. Once she was sure that the threat was over, she flipped the safety back on her gun and tucked it back in place. It virtually disappeared under her shirt as she reached for a broom to start cleaning up the glass. "I expect you boys'll be cleaning up the bodies?" She nonchalantly asked, as she made the first pass of the broom behind the bar.

Bullets whizzed around him as his gun was knocked out of his hand and he was shoved against a long mirror, 9mm barrel pressed tightly against his forehead. Before he could blink, the Russian and the gun were gone, leaving a fine spray of blood across his face. He blinked a few times, trying to get his bearings as he surveyed the room. Hap was on his back, gun still pointed straight into the air though no one was standing over him. The three Russians were on the floor, blood pooling hear their heads, and the bartender was standing there with a Glock in her hand, surveying the damage.

Kozik didn't move until the woman had tucked the gun back into her holster, unsure of how jumpy she was and unwilling to be the one who took a bullet to find out. The way the gun disappeared under her polo shirt was impressive. He couldn't help but snort as the only thing out of her mouth was basically an order to clear out the bodies as she began to sweep up the broken glass behind the bar.

That got the men moving and in seconds Hap was off the floor. Jax was on the phone, Kozik assumed with the prospects, and only Tig stood still. Kozik knew he didn't want to think of the things going through Tig's mind as the curly haired SAA was watching the brunette sweep booze, glass, and blood toward the center of the room. Tig could be a sick fucker sometimes.

Kozik grabbed a handful of napkins from the table and started wiping the blood spatter off his face. It really wasn't much but having someone else's blood on his face was just gross. He tossed the napkins down on the table and looked around the destroyed room.

"Gonna need a new broom after this," she mumbled as a prospect banged on the back door of the bar. The ends of the straw broom were soaking up the blood and alcohol that was splattered among the glass shards.

Once the prospects were let inside, the three bodies were quickly carried out the back door. Leaving Kozik in charge of the prospects, Happy, Jax and Tig took off in the van to make the Russians' bodies disappear. No one would be hearing from those three Russian thugs again.

The prospects coaxed the broom out of her hand and Kozik waived her over to the other side of the room. "What's your name darlin," he asked.

"Samantha, but before you go on your little spiel, I know not to call the cops, or the insurance company. This isn't this bar's first rodeo with the Sons," she answered.

Kozik raised an eyebrow. He'd only been patched in Charming for a couple of months so he didn't know every friend of the club, but he thought for sure that he knew the businesses. He'd never set foot in this particular establishment before the meeting today.

"My daddy built this bar. I grew up in it. Your brothers have used Belladonna's as a quiet meeting place since long before you came along blondie. Quiet meetings aren't always quiet when it comes to bikers, booze, and your associates. John Teller always took care of my dad and Clay Morrow takes care of me when the need arises."

"I've never seen you around." Koz stated bluntly.

"Well that blonde runs right down into your little brain doesn't it. You must make all the blonde jokes comes true. If I whored around at your parties then it wouldn't be very discreet for you boys to be 'casually meeting your business acquaintances' here, now would it?" Samantha said with a roll of her eyes.

One of the prospects snickered from the other side of the room, and Koz threatened to bury him in the chigger woods, much to Samantha's amusement. "What's your name sugar?" Samantha asked.

"Kozik," he answered. "Koz is fine too."

"Well Koz, she said with a smirk, "Make sure Clay knows he owes me a case of Soyuz Victan Supreme Silk." And she was off to the area behind the bar, removing broken bottles and shards of the broken mirror.

Kozik helped the prospects get the bar clean and then sent them to the hardware store to get the materials needed to patch the bullet holes in the walls. "Make a list of what you need replaced, including the case of Soyuz Victan Supreme Silk, and make the shitheads measure for new mirrors," he said as he wrote his cell number on a napkin. "Call me at this number if they give you any trouble."

Koz left on his bike, heading straight for the clubhouse. He grabbed the first long haired brunette he saw and drug her back to s dorm room, locking the door behind him. "On your knees," he ordered, leaning against the closed door and unfastening his jeans. Something about Samantha, the brunette bar owner with the smart mouth, had him twisted up, and it was that infuriating smirk that was on his mind as he came down the nameless croweater's willing throat.

Two days later and her bar was back to rights, other than the special order case of vodka that she was still waiting on. Clay had promised that it was on its way, and she had no reason not to believe him, but this was the perfect excuse for her to bother blondie. She grabbed the napkin from under the bar and tapped his number into her smartphone.

"Yeah?" Came the impatient answer.

"Well that's no way to answer when the object of your wet dreams calls, now is it, Koz?" she teased.

"Little busy, what's up Samantha," he asked, sounding distracted. If only she knew how close to the truth that her statement to him had been.

Just wanted to see if my case of vodka was in yet," she lied.

"Sam, I'm in Bakersfield working on some...shit I gotta go," he shouted as he snapped his flip phone shut and it popped in her ear.

She laid her phone on the bar and went to do inventory in the stockroom before the bar opened. It was Friday night and she knew it would be packed. All her bartenders were fighting over Friday night shifts lately, so Samantha had taken to doing inventory and then taking the evening off, opening her spot up to another bartender.

She'd been spending her Friday nights at the gym, followed by a movie on her couch, but tonight she had different plans. She was going to break her own rules and go to the SAMCRO party. She was hoping to find blondie and get to know him a little better. So much for not mixing business and pleasure.

Once she'd finished her lists and swept the storeroom, she headed out of the bar. She handed the keys over to Sara, her manager in charge, "See you Sunday morning," she said as she walked out the door. Sara waved at her boss as she started to set up behind the bar. Within the hour three more bartenders would be clocked in, and patrons would be making their way through the doors.

Samantha spent more than two hours at the gym. She ran until she was breathless, then spent a while lifting weights and doing leg presses. She finished off with another long run. She wasn't at the gym to bulk up or even get muscular, she just liked to keep her body healthy. Once she was off the treadmill for the second time, she headed home to get ready to crash her first biker party.

Freshly showered, she threw on her favorite comfortable jeans, a fitted t-shirt, and her flipflops. She had no intention of being mistaken for one of the whores who hung around Teller-Morrow. She left her hair down and let it dry in natural curls. She did a quick swipe of eyeliner and eyeshadow and headed out the door, ready to see what the night would bring.