Every lead she chased down to help her uncover who Gemma Teller was ended up in a goddamn dead end.

Frustrated, Tara swept the papers off her desk, slamming her hand down on the study oak table. Of course her files were helpful for the personality part and her arrest history, but that told her very little about how deep Gemma's connections lied.

It also told her nothing about that infuriating, jackass son of hers, and there was something worth finding out about.

Looking at the empty desks around her, she huffed, bending at the waist to pick up her scattered papers. Everyone else was either out patrolling or on their lunch break but Tara didn't feel much like eating. She was too preoccupied with figuring out the puzzle in front of her, only it felt like a puzzle of a puzzle missing half the pieces.

Unser came gliding in the glass door, tipping his hat in acknowledgment of Tara's presence before slipping past her into his office. He did say if she had any questions to ask, and she was running out of leads to trace. This would be a lot simpler if the town wasn't living in the damn stone ages. Who the fuck didn't keep up with things electronically anymore besides Charming?

Tapping on his door, she waited until hearing a muffled command as she entered, "hey Chief, got a minute?"

"What's can I do ya for kid?" He sounded bored and uninterested, but still he invited her in.

Brushing off the horrid nickname chosen for her, she stepped into the office, leaving the door ajar, "I had some questions about Gemma Teller."

Unser visibly froze for a second, too quick for Tara to asses in full detail, "got her case file don't you?"

She nodded, "yeah but what's that good for besides a bit of light reading. The real stuff you wanna know about a person isn't on a piece of paper or on file, it comes from people who know them. You know her well right?"

"Well enough," he grumbled, "listen the only thing you need to know about her is in those files. Other than that," he looked directly at her, "keep your nose clean. Gemma and that whole family aren't people you wanna be gettin' involved with."

"Wouldn't it be better for me to know everything, I mean, she's my C.I. how am I supposed to work with her otherwise?"

Unser leaned back in his chair, stoic expression printed on his aging face, "Trust me when I say kid, that you don't want to know anymore. Don't go snooping around or you'll find things you wont like and don't wanna know."

With that he went back to the papers on his desk, scribbling away as Tara left his office.

Confused, she sat down at her desk for awhile, trying to process his pathetic and vague explanation, that sounded an awful lot like a threat. Don't go snooping around or you'll find out things you wont like and don't wanna know? Ha. She already knew a lot she didn't want to know about, but none of it was the important stuff. Like how Gemma got to be a C.I., there was some shady shit involved. Tara's been a cop for years now, and even before then, her instincts were always on point. She could practically smell the stink of it the first day she met Gemma.

Shaking the maddening thoughts jumping around in her head, she grabbed the keys to her finally assigned patrol car and left. Everyone else was already gone, minus Pat who returned after Unser. Loud mouth, annoying, squeaky voice Pat, and Tara highly doubted she would notice her missing.

If she couldn't get to the bottom of it looking through files, then she could at least ride through town to see what was going on.

Driving around, Tara rolled the windows down, letting the warm California air flow through the car, airing out the smell while at the same time cooling her off.

It got hot in Chicago, but not this kind of hot, not that Tara could remember. She preferred heat to the cold, but there was only so much a person could do to get cool, especially while wearing a starchy uniform that rubbed against her skin in all the wrong ways.

She had been in Charming for a bit now, and other than the first instance with Gemma, she hadn't heard from her since, except a random note left on her doorstep a couple days later.

The note only said 'we took care of it,' a vague message that would've creeped her out had it not been initialed G.T. at the bottom. Gemma was obviously referring to Wendy. Good, at least she was able to fix one fucked up thing in this town. She would roll over and die if that was her shining moment here.

Stopped at a red light, a few blocks away she heard the clear ring of a gunshot. Her eyes snapped towards the sound, punching the gas in pursuit. Caught up she opted out on radioing in until she could be sure it was worth looking into. For all she knew, it could've been two of the local hunters going around shooting things again, claiming they were hunting a bear.

A silence fell, like a blanket, over the area until she got right up on a warehouse, wire gate surrounding the outside of the place. Whipping her car in and in a parked position, she opened the door quickly, using it to shield herself as a bullet bounced off the hood, crackling sound echoing around her.

"Son of a bitch," she muttered to herself.

Pointing her gun at the direction the bullet came, the end of the gun peeped around the side of the car door, "get down on the ground now," she yelled forcefully.

The man holding the gun didn't bat an eyelash at her, continuing his pursuit towards her, firing off round after round, each shot ringing in her ear.

"Put your weapon down now and get on the ground," she shouted again, this time firing a warning shot close to his feet, watching as he artfully dodged.

Still not fazed, she looked around careful not to take her eyes off him long enough to see the other pools of blood indicating there had been on a full on firefight at 2:30 in the goddamn day. When she asked for excitement, this wasn't what she meant by it.

Snapping her eyes back to him, she held tightly to her gun, "take one more fucking step and I will not hesitate to shoot your ass. Now get on the goddamn ground, and put your fucking gun—"

The words tumbled out of her mouth as she crouched down lower. When the next bullet hit dangerously close, ricocheting off the top of her door, she couldn't let that shit fly anymore.

Quickly standing up, she aimed her gun at the center of his chest, only taking a single breath to steady herself as she pulled the trigger. Seeing the bullet make contact with his body, she ducked back down in case of retaliation. It was good enough for the moment to know she wounded him.

When she heard no more gunshots coming from him, she looked up to find the bullet lodged itself into his chest cavity, blood pooling around the wound as he dropped to his knees when two more bullets entered his body from beyond Tara.

Moving at a rapid speed, she crouched back down and pointed her gun at the door of the warehouse just as it closed shut. She didn't move from her crouched position while she looked around for more assailants.

Standing up slowly, she checked the perimeter for any lingering live bodies, but apparently they all scattered, and the one that didn't was now lying face down in a pool of his blood.

Just then she heard her personal phone ringing from the car. With one hand on the gun and the other reaching for the phone she opened it, "what?"

"Where are you, I want you to get to somewhere quick for me."

"Gemma?" Bewilderment laced her voice, "how…how in the hell did you get this number?"

She huffed, "that's not important right now, I want you to go—"

"Yeah well I'm a little busy right now, and you're old enough to where your 'wants' won't hurt you," clicking the phone off, she discarded it back into the passenger seat of the car.

Her eyes darted to the door, leading inside the building, when she heard noises coming from inside. The same door two bullets emitted from just minutes before.

Placing her hand on the handle, she took a deep breath before she turned the knob and flung the door open.

Before her stood many more men hovering around an old beat up couch pushed against the wall. The first one she came into contact with was the only one that had a gun in hand, "put the gun down and get on the ground."

He didn't look like he was giving an inch, until Jax's voice floated through the room, "Tara?"

Keeping her gun trained on the guy in her eyesight, her eyes widened when she saw a flash of golden blonde hair in the distance, "Jax?"

He didn't acknowledge her unspoken question but instead directed his statement to the shaved hair, gun yielding, tough guy wannabe in front of her, "Juice it's alright, she's okay."

It was only then the guy, Juice, the fuck kind of name was that anyway, lowered his weapon. He didn't seem to give a shit about a direct order from a cop, but a few soft-spoken words from Jax and he was all but rolling over on the ground like a damn lost puppy.

Not immediately trusting him, she didn't go over there directly; instead she waited until she was sure of the situation.

Finally, she stuck her gun in its holster as Juice spoke to her, "listen sweetheart, I understand you gotta do your job, but he's injured bad. What do ya say, can you help him?"

"Call me sweetheart again and the only person who'll be needing an help is you," she spat at him. She could already tell she hated his smug, douchebag face.

She looked towards the exit, mind going to the radio sitting on the dashboard of her car, but Jax shook his head, "it'll take them too long," it's like he could read her thoughts.

"I'll bleed out before they even get here. This is fucking Charming, there's one ambulance for the whole town."

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, "I'll do what I can then I'll call an ambulance."

She had extensive medical training that started in high school and carried on until graduation from the police academy. That knowledge saved her life, and the life of others, more than once while living in Chicago.

"Clear the area, give him some room to breath," she shooed them away with her hands, but none of them backed away, not trusting Tara.

"Back the fuck up or he's gonna die here on this piece of shit, raggedy couch. I can't operate under a microscope," she growled at them.

Of course, it wasn't until Jax nodded they backed away, some of them dispersing entirely, going back outside to clean the damage. She knew she should've told them not to touch anything, this was a crime scene, but for some reason none of those words left her lips. She doubted they would listen to her anyway.

Bending down in front of him, she peeled off the layer of white cloth, sticking to his drying blood. Feeling around his exposed back, she was relieved to see and feel an exit wound, one less thing to worry about, but he still lost a significant amount of blood.

Looking around she saw the medical supplies strung out around them, not the best, but she had worked with a lot less.

Digging through she found a needle and thread, gauze pads and sterilization alcohol.

Dabbing the alcohol on a piece of cloth, she pressed it against the wound, narrowing her eyes when he cried out, "well I'd suggest not getting shot if you want to avoid the sting."

Instead of being angry at her comment, Jax just chuckled until it turned into a violent hacking cough, "Do you feel like your lungs are taking on water? Could be blood in there."

The wound was awfully close to his lungs, too close for comfort, but Jax just smiled and shook his head, "nah it probably has to do more with the cancer sticks I smoke."

"If this gun shot wound doesn't kill you, there's a good chance that will one day," Tara humorlessly commented, going back to making sure the area was cleaned before sterilizing the needle.

Taking a deep breath, she could feel her own hands trembling. She wasn't a surgeon; this was the best she could do.

Noticing her shaking, Jax laid one hand on top of hers, chuckling when she jerked underneath his touch, "sorry, just trying to steady your hands before you fuck it up worse."

"Screw you, would you rather mole face over there did it?"

She jerked her head in the direction of where she was standing earlier with Juice. A lopsided grin spread across Jax's face, not answering her question, as he watched her work quietly.

Taking time, she carefully threaded the needle through his skin, thankful he didn't wince or groan every time she pulled it through.

"I'm surprised my mom hasn't called you already, you being her personal rent a cop and all," he said it as a statement, but his tone conveyed the obvious question.

Tara just mumbled, "don't get too surprised, she called me before I busted in here."

"Without backup, I'll add. You do realize that you could've gotten seriously hurt, you should think a little more before you go headfirst into things."

Pulling at the thread tighter than necessary she gritted her teeth, "I don't think I need a lesson in safety from the man lying with a bullet hole in his chest do you?"

Jax smiled and shook his head, "what did my mom want?"

"Oh just the usual, to be a pain in my ass. Wanted me to jump at her beck and call."

He nodded, looking down at her now steady hands pulling the thread like a pro, "what did you tell her?"

Tara shrugged, "I just hung up on her. I was up shit creek without a paddle, I didn't have time to deal with her at the moment."

Jax howled in laughter, causing his chest to clench in pain, but it was worth it. Not many people hung up on Gemma Teller, but he suspected that even if Tara knew all the skeletons in her closet, she would've acted the same way.

"What are you doing with my mom anyway?"

Jax asked Gemma a similar question after that first day, but she dodged his questions until he forgot about it, having to deal with bullshit club business.

Reaching for the scissors, she cut the string and shrugged again, "I saw her out the other day and I asked if she needed help. I wasn't convinced when she said no, so I helped anyway."

A good lie, a Jax could appreciate her ability to spin a tale, but he knew it was a lie.

"Cut the bullshit," he lowered his voice although no one else was close enough around to hear, "I know she's helping out with some police shit or whatever."

"Well if you knew then why did you ask?"

Jax pinched the bridge of his nose, "I wanted to know what she was telling the cops."

Tara threw her hand up nonchalantly, "I'd ask her if I were you, I'm new in town, can't help ya there."

She hated being the new guy, but damn if it wasn't a good scapegoat to use, and use it she did.

"Although if you're asking me, all she's giving me is a goddamn headache," she rubbed at her temples.

Jax couldn't help but smile down at her face as she placed the gauze on the wound, "how'd you wind up here?"

"Apparently someone decided to shoot up the place at 2:30 on a Tuesday to liven things," she sarcastically replied.

Jax sighed, "not here as in the physical location or Charming. Here as in doing this, police work?"

It wasn't that she didn't want to talk about it. It had more to do with the fact that she didn't know him well enough to be divulging childhood stories and secrets. Remaining quiet, she tore off pieces of tape to hold the gauze in place, sticking it to his skin, letting her fingers linger on his chest.

"That'll be good enough until you get to a real doctor," she stood up, discarding the wrappers in the trash.

"I'm not going to a real doctor," his gruff voice came from below as she turned around to look at him, "far as I'm concerned you're a real doctor."

"I'm a police officer, Jax."

"Like I said, good enough for me. Probably have the same amount of training," he sat up, leaning back against the armrest of the couch.

"Get your ass to a licensed doctor before you cough so hard you pop a stitch and ruin my handiwork."

When he didn't say anything, other than giving her a cocky grin, she shrugged her shoulders, "fine don't go to the doctor. I'll just call this in and have an ambulance come and escort you personally to the hospital. Maybe they'll let you turn the lights on and everything if you ask nicely."

"Alright fine," he growled, "as soon as mom gets here I'll make her take me to the doctor…satisfied officer?"

Just then the door burst open and in sauntered the devil herself dressed in tight forming jeans, plaid button down shirt, and her signature sunglasses permanently nestled on her head.

"What the hell happened here, are you all right?"

She immediately went to Jax's aid, but he just held up a hand and sat up further on the couch, "I'm fine mom, Tara here did nice work putting humpty dumpty back together again."

"At least I know she can use her hands to do something other than answer my urgent calls," Gemma threw her way, placing her hands on her hips as if scolding Tara like a parent.

"Yeah well I was a little preoccupied patching up your son, would you have rather me answered your 'urgent' call?"

The corner of Gemma's mouth twitched up into a smirk, "you got two hands don't you?"

"Yes and before I do something I'll regret with my two hands," she rolled her eyes, "I'm going to leave."

No one said anything to her as she passed, but she could hear Gemma let out a short chuckle. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, she heard Jax's voice, "Tara."

At the sound of her name, smoothly rolling off his lips, she turned around, "thanks again for helping."

A sickening sweet smile appeared on her lips, "you can thank me by going to the doctor," she threw back the same words she said upon first meeting him.

Shoving the door aside, she trucked back to the patrol car, now a little dinged up in spots due to bullets ricocheting off it. She was never more grateful that wasn't driving her own car when this went down, she would've been a lot more pissed.

Frowning, she got into the car, waiting for someone to respond over the radio but either everyone was busy, a laughable thought, or no one was answering. The second was more likely.

Instead she let out an audibly sigh mixed with a huff of aggravation as she drove in the direction of the station.

Climbing out of the car, she ignored the looks everyone gave her, continuing inside, not stopping until she was in Unser's office for the second time that day.

"Chief there was a problem off Route 99—"

"Yep I'm aware, got a call from a nearby worker who said he could hear gun shots coming from the Teller's clubhouse. Pat said you radioed in and were leaving there."

Well, someone heard her radio, good thing she wasn't seriously injured or dying because her life would've been in Pat's greasy, slimy hands.

She proceeded to tell him what went down in grave detail, excluding the part where she became an active participant, but his face never reflected any emotions or thoughts if he had any. He just nodded curtly when she mentioned after going back outside, everything was cleaned up.

Waiting anxiously for him to say something other than a 'hum' or nod his head around like some kind of bobble head, she tapped her foot against the floor. When she couldn't take anymore, she stood up, chair almost falling back in the process.

"There's a dead man out there," throwing her hand vaguely in the air, wildly gesturing.

"Who was shooting at the police right?"

She nodded once, not saying anything for a few moments because she could tell by the finite tone in his voice he wasn't looking for an answer. Then Tara decided, she didn't give a damn if he was looking for one, she'd give him one anyway.

"Yes but—" there was no time for her to even finish her train of thought before he opened his mouth, effectively cutting her off.

"So you did what you had to do, you made a tough call, and now I have to make one." Simple enough, he constructed it in such a way to convey the similarities in the two cases. Tara wasn't buying whatever he was selling.

She shook her head, brows furrowing, "this isn't a tough call. There were other pools of blood, meaning that their had to be other victims besides that one. Jax lost a lot of blood, but not enough to warrant all that blood. Are you really telling me we're going to do nothing about this? Just sweep this shit under the rug."

"I suggest you watch your watch kid, that might've been how you handled things in Chicago, but you're not in Kansas anymore. This is my town. I don't sweep shit under a goddamn rug. There's not enough evidence to support your theory, point blank."

Tara bit her tongue so hard she could taste copper hitting the back of her throat. If there wasn't enough evidence, then you started a damn investigation, even rookie cops would know the next logical step.

This was some backwoods shit operation they were running in Charming, but he was right about one thing, this isn't how they did it in Chicago. So this wasn't how Tara was going to do it now.

"You can take the rest of the day off, clean yourself up and rest," came Unser's voice, not bothering to look up at her from his desk.

Tersely nodding, her mouth formed a tight-lipped smile, "got it Chief."

Grabbing her jacket off the coat rack, she hurled the door open, not caring as it slammed shut, vibrating through the entire station.

Forcefully banging the car door closed, she put her hands on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening as she laid her head against it. She was beyond pissed at the brush off she received for doing her job. A job she knew damn well how to do.

She stayed in this position, calming her breath, inhaling slowly until she dug around in her pocket. Her fingers landed on the object she was searching for.

Dragging her phone out she quickly typed in the number, waiting until someone answered on the other line, "hey, listen, I need a favor."