Author Note

Feel free to R&R

Two

The tall black man dropped the box onto the desk before glancing around the room. This was to be his office for the foreseeable future. He had been briefed on the Local Biker gang, The Sons of Anarchy. The previous chief, it was suspected, had been in their pockets, turning a blind eye to a lot of their shit. Well now, there was a new Sheriff in town, Lieutenant Eli Roosevelt. He was considered an expert when it came to tackling gangs; he had a remarkable track record, and wasn't on anyone's payroll.

He removed a small pocket knife and carefully ran it beneath the tape keeping the top of the box closed. He lifted the flaps of the box and the first thing he removed was the photo of his wife. He looked at the picture for a moment; a smile crossing his face, then placed the photo on the desk. He carried on removing items from the box, mainly a load of paperwork, which he found new homes for. He didn't like mess in his office, never had. Once the box was completely empty he placed in against the wall next to the door and then took a seat in the chair at the desk. He looked around the room again. Simple but effective for his needs, he didn't plan on spending too much time in the room. He glanced up at the clock above the door, 1.30pm, time for lunch.

Roosevelt drove through Charming to a quiet diner, just down the street from TM; he ordered a cheeseburger, fries and a large coffee. He took a window booth and looked out into the street. There were cars coming and going from TM, plus a couple of motorcycles. He could tell from the cuts that these guys were members of SAMCRO. The waitress, a small blonde girl with her hair in a pony tail, brought the food over and placed it before him. Roosevelt figured she must have lost the smile along the way from the kitchen as it clearly wasn't on her face. He looked at the food and shrugged, he'd seen better, but he was sure he'd of eaten worse in the past.

The junk yard, where cars came when they died, Marcus Alverez, President of the Mayans Motorcycle Club stood next to his bike with his guys waiting for their guest. Alverez saw a big payday from this meeting, well, as long as SAMCRO played along. He glanced across at his VP before looking at his watch. The black SUV with its tinted windows rolled in, precisely on time. The vehicle slowly approached and then stopped before the bikers. Two men exited from the rear, holding AK47s, two men exited from the front, holding no weapons at all. Those men were Romero 'Romeo' Parada and Luis Torres, both high ranking members of the Galindo Cartel. The men paused for a moment, and looked around at the bikers assembled, glanced at each other, and then confidently moved forward, towards Alverez and his guys.

Alverez placed his hand out toward Parada.

"Thank you for coming here today, it means a lot ese," He spoke the words in a confident, yet respectful tone.

Parada looked at the outstretched hand, then shook it firmly, nodded his head, glanced back at Torres and allowed his number two to speak.

"How could we not Marcus, you made it sound like Christmas," Torres looked into the bikers' eyes.

Alverez nodded and smiled, then started to laugh.

"Ese what I'm proposing, is much better than Christmas, now, shall we talk inside the office, it's more comfortable in there" Alverez gestured toward the small building in the centre of the yard.

Parada looked back at his two men, the taller of the two nodded, the sign that he didn't spot any snipers. Parada wasn't really worried about an attack today, no biker club had the muscle to go to war against the Cartel, well there except one, but they were a long way from California. Parada took the lead and walked toward the small building; he stood at the door and allowed Alverez to lead the way inside. The two men with AKs waited outside, as did all the Mayans except the VP. The office contained a desk, which had four chairs positioned next to it, two on either side. Parada nodded and smirked slightly, it appeared Alverez was a little organised, which surprised him. He half expected the meeting to take place outside, on foot, with no comforts at all. When the men were seated they all glanced at one another before finally Alverez broke the silence.

"Ok here is the deal, word on the street is that the Cartel could use some pretty high standards of firepower" Parada's full attention was gained, word on the street. "Well I may be able to help you out with that." Alverez looked at his visitors, trying to figure out if he'd opened with the correct approach.

"You believe everything you hear on the street?" Parada asked.

Alverez slowly shook his head indicating no.

"Not everything ese, but this" He shrugged "This I did. You're at war with the Lobos Sonora Cartel ese, and word is that the Chinese are supplying them with some pretty hot firepower." Alverez paused allowing this to sink in. After a moment he resumed his speech. "We get guns from the Sons Of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, SAMCRO. They get supplied by the Irish. Now if you were to get supplied by SAMCRO, I'm sure they could get their hands on some nice firepower."

Parada sat in his chair, face expressionless, thinking this over. It sounded good, a new guns supplier, higher quality of weapons, what he couldn't see was the Mayan angle.

"What's in this for you Marcus?"

Alverez smiled, he wanted to hear this question, and he wanted to answer it too.

"You make SAMCRO an offer to smuggle Cocaine for you. They are anti drugs, but they also have money problems. I think they will take the deal. We then offer SAMCRO to help protect the cocaine shipments, putting money in Mayan pockets. Maybe then also we can get some kind of deal, a discounted rate, for cocaine from the cartel, like an employee discount" Alverez watched Parada closely

"I'm sure a deal could be agreed, but first we need to meet with SAMCRO, you're placing a lot of faith in their financial problems. I'll make you a deal Marcus. Set a meet with SAMCRO, if they can supply weapons to us, the cartel with give you either a finder's fee, or a one year discount on cocaine. If they agree to run the cocaine for us, the Mayans will have their discount for the duration of our business with SAMCRO" it was Parada's turn to watch Alverez.

Alverez looked at his VP, both men whispered amongst themselves then Alverez turned his head back toward Parada. He nodded then placed his hand out to shake on the deal

"I'll call Clay, arrange the meet" Alverez said as he shook Parada's hand.

Lost in the ride she had fallen behind the sleek black Harley in front of her. Angel could have caught up easily with just a twist of the throttle with her black leather gloved hand, but instead she decided to take a moment to admire her father, Sal Angelino. Despite the fact he was advancing in age he was still a solid brick house of muscle, his skin as toned as it had been when he was in his younger years, his complexion a beautiful olive color that gave him the look of a year round tan. His black Harley with its large tires, and chrome accenting cruised along the highway effortlessly at a high speed. The bike was like Sal, commanding, bold, and sexy without the need of unnecessary frills.

Angel finally hit the throttle of her own Harley, a smaller version of her fathers, to catch up. She handled a bike as well as any man in the club, actually better than some. When Angel had been a little girl her place had been on the back of her father's bike. Once she was old enough to learn though Sal had taught her to ride. She glanced over at him as she recalled the childhood memories with a smile, and gave him a nod as they rode side by side. He returned the smile nodding back at her, before both looked straight ahead again, accelerating the bikes simultaneously. Angel loved him, and could see herself with a man like her father. Hell, if Sal weren't her father she'd fuck him. A wry smile crossed her mouth as she thought about how a lot of people would run to church for confession at the thoughts that rolled into her mind at times. Fuck, it was the truth though, ain't no reason to confess what is true, she thought to herself. As far as Angel was concerned she was never going to find a man that measured up to her Daddy O'.

Sal looked over at his daughter, Angel, as they rode along the highway on the outskirts of Charming, towards the new building, and warehouses he had purchased as a surprise. The property was going to be AOM Charming headquarters, and no expense would be spared to make it as grand as the compound outside of New York. He loved his daughter. She was the spitting image of her mother, flawless porcelain skin, slender yet full figured in all the right places, intense blue eyes, full cherry colored lips, and jet black hair. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, and he was glad Angel reflected that beauty. It was one of the main reasons he never allowed Angel to be housed anywhere, but in the MC compound with him. Sal would never admit it to another living soul, but looking at her reminded him that time in his life had been real. He had received a lot of mumbled criticism from other MC's for having her by his side, but he didn't give a shit. Second reason Sal was a firm believer that a person should live in the life they decided for themselves with pride. He had given Angel choices, opportunities to distance herself from the MC, but still she came back time after time. Like him it was in her blood. His daughters name was Angel, but she was a killer, just like her old man. For a moment he felt a tinge of guilt, and wondered what her mother would think. Her mother, Jesus Christ, he allowed his mind to momentarily drift to the past, to memories of her, something he didn't do on many occasions.

Rebecca Martin's smile alone could light up the darkest room, she was truly an Angel. Under normal circumstances she never would have even met a man like Sal, he knew that fate, and her girlfriend insisting she attend a rally had pulled them together. He had never had problems attracting the ladies, hell he could walk into a room, and panties would fall to the floor. When he saw her though Sal knew what it meant to be pussy whipped. Becca hadn't made it easy on him at first, and had been one tough cookie to crack not giving an inch. Still though he was the 'Skull' and he wasn't going to walk away without the girl. He succeeded, even though a few of his crew bet against him. Stupid Mother Fuckers Sal thought should have known better than to bet against him. Despite the fact her parents disowned her she ended up on the back of his bike. He married her immediately, didn't see any reason in waiting when he knew she was it. His Becca had brought a peace into his personal life he had never known before. Sal was still one mean Son of a Bitch, putting anyone in the ground if they blocked the way, but when it was just them he was different.

They had been together about five years when Becca came into his clubhouse office announcing she was pregnant. Sal never had a doubt the child she carried would be a son. Sal toasted the birth of the future MC legion with his crew later, and sat back comfortably smoking a cigar. His legacy was secure, his club one of the top, a woman in his bed he loved, Sal Angelino was the master of his universe. Fate, he soon discovered was one cruel mother fucker.

The biggest fear with having Becca in his life had always been another crew seeking retaliation. To ensure that never happened Sal took every measure humanly possible to make sure she was well protected. Any member of the crew was willing, and prepared to lay their life down for her at anytime, just as they were for Angel. Word was also spread through the MC world that if any crew ever dared he would wipe their lousy existence off the face of the mother fucking earth. No one dared they knew Skull meant business.

In the end though Sal had no control over certain matters, a deep frown creased the corners of his mouth as he remembered the bright red blood that had already permanently stained the white tile floors of the bathroom suite. She never opened her eyes as he screamed for help. Sal had never recalled screaming before in his entire life for help. He was normally the person people called out to when they needed help. The doctors said it was as just a rare occurrence that killed his Becca, some stupid bullshit about the placenta detaching unexpectedly, which caused mass hemorrhaging. They went on to tell him the only reason his daughter had survived was the fact she was due to be born within just a couple of weeks. If he had been even minutes later both the child and mother would have perished. A fucking daughter, Sal would have been lying if he said he didn't feel somewhat bitter at the word when the Doctors told him the child was female. When he laid eyes on her though, she had him whipped instantly just as her mother had. The months that followed were hard, but the MC pulled together all taking a hand in raising her. He looked over at her once more, and then glanced ahead, he wouldn't trade Angel for ten sons.

Angel could feel her father's eyes on her and glanced back over at him just as his gaze was returning forward. She knew he was thinking about her mother by the look on his face, it wasn't as stone cold when he thought of that time of his life. Angel knew from everyone in the MC, and the pictures by her bedside that she was her mother made over. Sal had loved her mother, and never replaced her with another woman. He wasn't celibate by any means his bedroom door reminded Angel of one of those revolving ones at a department store. Despite some of the best efforts though, that revolving door always hit their ass on the way out if they attempted to stay to long. Angel wasn't shy either and made sure the stupid bimbos knew if they overstepped their bounds she would cut them up. Sal was her father, and no MC bimbo was going to take him away from her. Only once since her mother had a bimbo distracted her father's attention for any length of time, and it had cost her dearly. It had also cost Angel as well. They rode swiftly on the winding road leaning into the turns in almost perfect unison. Angel thought of that time in their lives, it was the first, and last time she had ever known the emotion called fear.

The summer prior to her graduation from college, which was her father's idea not hers, Angel had come home to spend time at the MC. It was a strange summer though with rival gang tension, her father bedding a stupid bimbo, and engaging in more than tactical training with 'Crash.' Her father didn't have a whole lot of rules, but one was no eating from the table he called it. Sal felt it would be extremely distracting, and unsafe for Angel to ever be involved with any man that was sitting around his table. So, when he had insisted 'Crash' accompany her that summer due to the tension he was unaware they were involved. The distraction along with Sal's head being buried in pussy created an open window for the rival gang to kidnap Angel. Three bastards held her for several days taunting, and beating her. They even spit out the vile things they were going to do to her before she died over and over again. Finally the President of the club finally arrived and made the fatal mistake of deciding to rape Angel. That was the scene Sal, and his crew walked in on when rescuing his daughter and the man paid a very heavy price for the pussy he had just taken at force.

The remaining three were gathered up and taken back to the AOM compound. Angel remembered asking her father to watch their punishment. She could still see the look upon his face, and she thought he would send her away, but he agreed. Angel remembered grabbing the gun from his hand, and walking over putting rounds in each of the men's heads. Sure she had been trained to kill, but until that moment never had. Pulling the trigger on that gun felt good, it felt right, and unleashed darkness in her, she was never able to bridle again. As she listened to the engine of her Harley sing to her she realized she never tried to bridle it anyway. She loved what had been unleashed. She loved her fucking life. Her leathered gloved hand hit the throttle again, and she sped past her father playfully flipping him off. She knew he wouldn't be far behind her Sal didn't even tolerate his Angel being ahead of him.

Angel walked through the building located on the outskirts of Charming, sizing it up. She stopped in the middle of the large room which she felt would make a good common area for the MC crew to spend time when not handling AOM business. Crews needed to blow off a little steam, get drunk, laid, dick sucked, whatever the hell they needed. She reached in her pocket pulling out a pack of cigarettes, and placed one in her mouth, lighting it with her Zippo.

"What do you think, Princess?" Sal watched his daughter take in the surroundings, as he leaned up against the wall, smoking a cigar, the sweet smell permeating the area.

Angel took a slow drag of her cigarette, before a satisfied grin came across her face.

"I think it will work, Daddy O'." She winked at her father as she continued to walk throughout the large building that was at least triple the size of Teller-Morrow's club house.

Sal gave a deep chuckle at her response, and pushed himself off the wall walking over to his daughter, as he reached inside his leather cut, and handed her an envelope. Angel reached her hand out as he approached to take it from him. Even though they had ended human life, her hands were delicate in comparison to his. She quickly scanned over the papers that were inside.

"Fuck me, are you sure?" Angel arched her brow looking her father in eye, her left hand held the deed to the property they stood on. "You know Clay isn't going to go down without a fight, and there's fucking Teller." She locked her intense blue eyes with his equally intense black ones. Then she took a slow drag of her cigarette, her hand had a slight tremor to it, and she wished to fuck she had put that joint inside her leather before leaving town.

Sal eyed his daughter curiously as she took a drag of her cigarette. He knew the signs all too well, Angel needed a kill it had been over three weeks since she had blood on her hands. Since her kidnapping years back, and the killings that followed, she had a craving that needed to be fulfilled on a regular basis. He glanced at her as he extinguished his cigar on the concrete floor, crushing it with his black leather riding boot. Shit, he hoped it was just a little bloodshed she needed, and not some God damned poetry bullshit.

"They ain't shit. We have taken down bigger, and you know it." Sal spoke in his normal tone, but the words still echoed loudly throughout the hollow building. "You've put bullets in men's heads way tougher than Clay, and you have carved up poet, pussy ass mother fuckers like Teller for lunch." He eyed her closer. "Is it the fact you may have to put the poet pussy out of his misery, Princess? You remember girl you are AOM. No mercy."

Angel dropped her own cigarette to the ground stomping her black boot on top of it, and twisting like it was a bug she was killing, never taking her eyes off her father. Teller had been a long time ago and nothing but a big damn mistake anyway.

"If someone needs to be put in the ground, Daddy O', I will do it. I don't give a fuck if it's Teller, his Ol' lady, his kids, Clay, Gemma or any of those Mother Fuckers. No hesitation and no fucking mercy. So, why don't you cut the Ward Cleaver bullshit lecture, and let's look at the rest of the property you have purchased for me."

She smirked at him as the words crossed his lips. Angel knew if any of the men had ever dared speak with her father in the raw way they communicated, they would be picking their sorry ass up off the ground. Well, they would be picking their ass off the ground, if he didn't kill them.

"Reel in it in, Princess." Sal smirked back at his daughter as he placed his arm over her shoulder. Together they continued to survey the property. Yeah, he thought to himself better than a damn son.